by Homer Hickam
“I thought of escape, but there were so many guards, it was impossible. Then the colonel returned, though he made no attempt to speak to me or acknowledge my presence, even when I was ushered in to sit quietly in his office. He sat at his desk and issued orders to his officers as they came to see him. Or he met with native delegations, to whom he also issued orders. Then, one day, he called me again to his office and, through a translator, asked me for me advice. On the floor of his office was a native man, horribly beaten. Because his children were hungry, this man had refused to give food to a Japanese soldier when it was demanded. What, Colonel Yoshu asked, should he do with this man? I replied that a father’s first responsibility was to his children and that he should be released. Colonel Yoshu clapped his hands and it was done. Then he complimented me and said I had been a great help to him. He inquired if I might be willing to help him again. And so I did. I ate well the nights I gave him advice.” She shook her head. “More sin, but still far from me greatest.”
“But you were trying to help the natives!” Ready protested. “There is no sin in that!”
She continued, her steady eyes silencing him. “No. To me shame, I helped this monster so that I could eat and so that I wouldn’t be thrown back into that horrible cell. I began to learn Japanese, and I sat beside him each day, like some terrible white queen, and gave him advice. Some he took, some he didn’t, but I hoped I was softening his rule. At night, when I whispered me prayers, it came to me how wrong I was. When I suggested to Colonel Yoshu it was no longer proper for me to assist him, he said he would simply go back to his old ways of cutting off heads whenever it suited him. Then he raped me.”
Ready sucked in a breath and knotted his fists. Yet he said nothing. He waited because he knew there was more to come.
“He raped me over a period of three weeks. Day and night.”
Ready released his breath. Still he waited, though it felt as if she had reached inside him and torn out his guts.
“I fought back, but he beat me until I was covered with bruises. He broke both me wrists and cracked me ribs. He bit me on my shoulders until they bled. Afterwards, while I lay weeping on the bloody sheets, he would speak softly to me. He told me he had received a dream that he would return to Japan and I would go with him, that together we would build a dynasty that would control the country. He said that I would therefore learn Japanese even better. I agreed, sin on top of sin, and a young soldier was provided as a tutor. When I didn’t learn fast enough, Yoshu cut off one of the young man’s fingers. The rapes stopped soon afterwards. I was pregnant, y’see.”
Ready’s face had turned into a mask of repressed pain and rage. Still he held his words back.
“My daughter is eight months old. She was born in April. I named her Monessa.”
She allowed herself a quiet smile and went on.
“I was allowed to stay with her for a little while. Then she was taken away from me and a wet nurse supplied. It was only when I begged Yoshu that I was allowed to see her, and then for only a few minutes at a time.”
Now, finally, the tears came, streaming across her round, flushed cheeks. She waited until they subsided, then wiped them away with the back of her hand, then continued as if they’d never occurred.
“I was desperate. I went to Yoshu, begging him to let me see Monessa. He agreed, but the price was total obedience to him. And so I entered his household and went to his bed. It was some time later that a revelation came to me, and I’m certain it was a provision of the Holy Mother. My humiliation was complete, y’see. I could go no lower. I had finally reached the goal that had been mine since I’d become a nun. I was victorious because of me degradation! One night, while Yoshu was atop me—I beg yer forgiveness for such rawness, but I wish ye to understand—I began to laugh. I could not stop. It frightened Yoshu, and he ran from his chambers. I sought out Monessa, took her into me arms, and cradled her and sang to her until Yoshu set his soldiers on me. I was dragged away, thrown back into the cell where I’d spent those first awful months. And there I was until Nango and his fella boys came to me rescue, killing the guards. Before we went to the outriggers, I insisted on going to the chapel to retrieve a habit. I was still a nun, no matter me sins, and I felt the need to look like one, may God have mercy on me. So we put to sea, though we didn’t know where to go. Then we happened upon a fishing canoe from the Gilberts. The men in it said they thought the Americans were coming to those islands, so we headed there. You know what happened after that.”
Ready waited, and when she said nothing else, he said, very simply, “I love you.”
She studied him, and he could feel her in his eyes and in his mind. When she seemed satisfied with her inspection, however it was meant, she said, “I know. That is why I am asking ye to do something for me, something that will be terrible hard for ye. Me fella boys won’t do it, nor will Chief Kalapa, or Mr. Bucknell, or even Captain Thurlow. They do not love me enough, y’see.”
“I love you enough, whatever it may be,” Ready replied staunchly.
“I do not love ye, Ready O’Neal,” she said. “This ye must know.”
“Love can grow.”
“Yes, when there is room enough in one’s heart, it may. But this has nothing to do with love, but with what is practical, and best for everyone. I am asking ye with all me heart to do this thing for me. Take me to Ruka, slip in at night, and I will go ashore, there to give meself up to Colonel Yoshu.”
“No!” Ready cried. It was a howl of released pain.
She knelt before him and took his hands. “I should have never left him. That he would try to find me, and murder innocents to do it, was certain. I was blind not to see it.”
Ready steadied himself. He had to be strong with her. He knew she was under a terrible strain. He had to lend her his strength. “I will not do it,” he said and took his hands away.
“Ye must,” she replied softly. “If ye love me, this ye must do. And it must be done in secret, lest others try to stop us. Therefore, I have decided we should be married.”
Ready blinked. “Married?”
“Aye, so that our being together and our leaving together will not raise suspicion.”
“You ask too much!”
“I ask only what should be done. Nothing more. Do ye not wish to marry me?”
“Of course! I want nothing more.”
“Then cast aside yer doubts. Marry me and make me yer wife.”
“And then hand you over to a monster?”
“Yes. So that I may protect Monessa.”
“But he will… ”
“Kill me? Rape me again? I don’t think so. I can control him long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“Until I can kill him. Then I will escape with Monessa.”
Ready was incredulous. “I do not believe you could kill anyone.”
“A mother will do anything for her child.”
“No, Kathleen. Maybe I don’t love you enough, either. Not enough to let you commit certain suicide. But maybe…” He trailed off, frowning, thinking.
“Maybe what?”
He took a deep breath, let it out. “Maybe if I went with you, we could steal Monessa away and bring her back. I don’t know how, not yet, but maybe there’s a way to do that. At night, perhaps…”
She moved into his arms. Then she kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted her and nothing mattered, nothing save her taste, her touch. Forever and ever. He knew then he would do anything for this woman… nearly anything.
“Marry me, Ready O’Neal. Marry me, and together, we will rescue Monessa.”
He took her hands, and his face was wreathed with joy. “Yes! We will!” Then he took her again into his arms, and Kathleen placed her head against his strong shoulder and knew she would get her wish. She would marry, and her husband, besotted with love, would carry her to Ruka. The hand of Colonel Yoshu was extended, and she knew now God wanted her to take it, evil to evil, sin to sin, and damnation to them both.
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47
It was the saddest marriage ceremony Josh reckoned he had ever seen, or ever would see. The former nun was lovely, as always, though shrouded from neck to ankle in her terrible loose gown. Kathleen, as she called herself now, was not radiant. She was downcast throughout, and Josh’s heart went out to her, almost as much as it did to Ready, who stood there in his old, ragged utilities. He looked stricken, as if possessed by some terrible spirit.
Chief Kalapa presided over the ritual, placing their hands together and knotting them with hemp twine, signifying that they were forever joined. Mr. Bucknell then read from the Bible and, as a representative of His Majesty’s government, asked the couple if they agreed to follow the traditional Anglican formalities.
“Aye,” she answered. “ ’Tis near enough to me own.”
“Yes. All right,” Ready answered miserably.
Their heads bowed, they made their vows.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” Bucknell asked in a quiet voice.
“I do,” Josh answered, stepping up beside her. He was wearing his fresh khakis from the submarine.
Bucknell adjusted his half-glasses on the tip of his nose, scanned the Anglican text, and then said, “I see no reason to continue reading the ceremony. Chief Kalapa has already properly married you according to the beliefs of this island, and your hands are tied with the hemp. You’ve answered my ‘wilt thous’ with your T wills.’ Certainly, you take one another for better and for worse. As far as His Majesty’s government is concerned, I pronounce you man and wife.”
She raised her head and said, in a small voice, “I have a ring.”
Mr. Bucknell did not hear her clearly “What did you say, dear?”
She opened her left hand, revealing a simple silver ring lying in her palm. “I have a ring,” she said again. Bucknell recognized it as the one she had worn as a nun.
“Help us, Josh,” Ready said, the first time he’d ever called his captain by his first name.
Josh untied the hemp twine from their hands, allowing Ready to take the ring. Wearing a crooked smile, Ready looked into her eyes and said, “I love you.”
“Thank ye,” she answered as he slipped the ring on her finger. She turned to the assembly, which was everyone in the village. “Thank ye all for coming.”
Chief Kalapa smiled, though not broadly, and announced a feast. It would prove to be a pathetic one. No pigs were roasted, although several chickens were grilled. No kava was drunk, and only a little mangojack. People stood about listlessly and ate the meager fare, then wandered home or to dig in their gardens or wherever the evening took them. For their part, Ready and Kathleen proposed a few toasts with the marines and Colonel Burr, who, oddly enough, had shed a few tears during the ceremony. Then they walked down the path to the treehouse.
Josh went to sit in his chair in front of his house, and there he sat, drinking mangojack, wishing he might get drunk and swearing to himself not to. Rose came and sat alongside him. “You are sad, husband.”
“I am sad for Ready and I am sad for Sister. Kathleen, I mean. I am also frightened for them.”
“You? Frightened?” She smiled and touched his hand. “I cannot imagine such a thing.”
“Do you know she asked me to take her in a canoe to Ruka and give her to Colonel Yoshu?”
“Yes. She also asked Nango, Mr. Bucknell, and Chief Kalapa. I also have no doubt that she asked Bosun O’Neal, and perhaps he has agreed. That is why she married him. If so, it is a good thing. I wish you and the others would have done it.”
Josh was astonished. “You would have me turn her over to a monster?” “Before anything else, I wish for the safety of my family.”
Josh nodded agreement but said, “Nothing, not even Kathleen killing herself, would stop Colonel Yoshu from coming here. The colonel has had a long time to get thoroughly annoyed with this island. You can bet the coconut telegraph let him know early on she was here. And he’ll come, no matter what, to teach us a lesson for sheltering her.”
“Perhaps you are right. I will change my mind to match your opinion.”
“I have never known a finer woman than you,” Josh swore, taking Rose’s hand. Then he said, from a part of his heart he scarcely knew was there, “Will you marry me?”
She laughed. “We are already married.”
“So we are.” And Josh Thurlow was content, at least as much as any man whose family was in terrible danger.
She burned her candles, three brave flickering lights against the darkness. Ready sat in the breadfruit chair, a cup of mangojack in his fist. He was staring at nothing. Kathleen sat on the bed, fearful of the intimacy to come. She steeled herself for it and tried to act as any bride might on her wedding night. “Ready,” she said and patted the mattress, just once, and lightly. “Are ye not tired? Come to bed.”
He looked at her, then put the cup down and took off his boots and then stripped off his utilities. Tossing them aside, not bothering to hide his nakedness and therefore his clear lack of excitement, he heavily sat down beside her. She touched his shoulder. “Why are ye troubled?”
“It is because I don’t know who or what I am. I haven’t known it since the moment I met you.”
“What can I do to help?”
His tone was petulant. “You can turn back the clock. You can stay in Ireland. You can marry that boy who wanted you to marry him before you became a nun.”
“God would not allow it,” she answered. “I am sorry that I have become a burden to ye.”
“You’re not. It’s me. It’s what I see in my mind.”
Her heart pounding, her fear of his touch increasing, she climbed fully on the bed, laid herself down, and tugged on his arm. She was a bride and she would act like one, no matter how much she dreaded the act of intimacy. “Come. Lie beside me. Tell me what ye see in yer mind that troubles ye so.”
Feeling childish, he lay on his back beside her, staring at the roof he had built for her with such joy. “I see you with him. A man wants his wife… He shook his head.
“Pure? Unsullied? Virginal?” she retorted angrily, taking her hand away. “Is it not enough I come to ye with me sins as cleansed as I could get them? I confessed to that priest, accomplished my penance with nearly unending prayers on the voyage here. And when ye expressed yer love to me, was I any different than I am now? Ye are being most unfair, Ready O’Neal!”
Ready was into his misery and couldn’t stop himself from saying it all. “I married you under false pretenses. I cannot turn you over to that fiend.” He sat up. “I can’t stay here. I have to go.”
She pulled him back, held him. Continuing to act as she imagined a bride would, she kissed him until at last he seemed to melt. She pulled off her gown and then, trembling, let him feel the length of her body. “Ready, I am yer wife.” She waited but nothing happened. Then she asked brazenly, “Will ye not make ficky-ficky with me, boyo?”
“I can’t”
Angry now, and feeling rejected, she climbed out of bed and stood with her hands on her hips. “Do ye want me to put the habit on? Is that it? Is that the fantasy ye have in yer twisted mind?”
He looked at her in the glow of her little candles, and what he saw in the flickering light and shadows was a girl, a young Irish girl, who was beautiful. “I would love you even if you wore nothing at all,” he said.
Relieved, she laughed and spread her arms wide. “Well, yer in luck, Ready O’Neal!”
He stared at her for a long second, then, because he felt ridiculous, also laughed. “Come on then, me Irish lass. I have need of ye!”
She hopped on the bed and took him into her arms. Somehow, all her fear had been set aside. She felt, for the first time, like a bride and, better, was even glorying in the sensations it brought her. “Kathleen O’Neal, Irish lass at yer service, sor!” she cried and released herself from all care.
Kapura, a Ruka fella boy, placed on guard by Nango near the tree, heard the laughter coming from above and then the
other noises that meant the marriage night was successful. Then he heard the school bell knocked off its table. It fell with a clang and rolled ringing across the floor. Kapura grinned and allowed himself a long pull of mangojack. “You fella boy Ready ring fella sister bell plenty too much,” he whispered to himself, then moved to a tree farther away to give the happy couple a little privacy.
48
The story Kathleen told of the child she bore after being raped by the cruel Colonel Yoshu quickly became common knowledge. Everyone, especially the women, was sympathetic toward the former nun and thought she was very brave. The men thought she was brave, too, and understood now why the colonel wanted her back. Josh Thurlow once more tried to convince one and all to pack up and leave, but no one was amenable to it, including Rose. So Josh shut up about it and accepted the certain battle to come. If they were able to repel it, he rationalized, then perhaps he could convince one and all to run.
The marines, during this time, suffered. Colonel Burr gathered them at the boathouse, harangued them concerning their unauthorized departure from Tarawa, then yelled at them about their lack of discipline, their ragged utilities, and their women. “You have gone Turk!” he bellowed. “Drill, that’s what you need, and that’s what you’re going to get!”
Burr lined up Tucker, Garcia, and even Sampson on his crutch and made them march with him calling cadence. “Hup-hup!” he bellowed. “Get in step there, Sampson. You think because you only got one foot, you ain’t a marine? Once a marine, always a marine, son, don’t matter how many body parts you might lose.”