Hawaii

by James Michener

  "Then the Secretary of Navy's hasty report that Pearl Harbor was betrayed by local Japanese was all hogwash?" Whipple asked.

  "Yes. But he can be forgiven. Excited admirals fed him the line. Now they know better."

  "Any disloyalty now?" Whipple asked.

  "Quite the contrary. The young Japanese seem to be burning to get into uniform. Had two of them in here the other day. Fine boys. Got kicked out of R.O.T.C. and now want us to use them as labor battalions, anything. They offer to serve with no pay."

  "You got their names?"

  "Right here."

  Colonel Whipple hesitated before taking the paper. "I promise you that I will not write down what you reply to my next question. But I need guidance. Will you state categorically that the local Japanese have not engaged in sabotage of any kind?"

  "I will state categorically that there has not been a single case of sabotage," the F.B.I, man said.

  Whipple drummed his fingers. "I'd like to see those names. Can you get the boys in here?"

  As a result of that meeting the Varsity Victory Volunteers were formed with Tadao and Minoru Sakagawa as first members. The V.V.V. were all Japanese, all boys of the highest intelligence and patriotism. They foresaw that the entire future of their people in America depended upon what they did in this war against Japan, and they decided that if they were prevented by hysteria from bearing arms, they would bear shovels. They would dig out latrines, and pick up after white soldiers, and build bridges. There would be no work too menial for them, and they would do it all for $90 a month while their haole and Chinese schoolmates earned ten times that much working for the government in civilian jobs at Pearl Harbor. As Tadao told Colonel Whipple, "We will do anything to prove that we are Americans."

  Colonel Whipple, when he recommended that the V.V.V. be established, drew a good deal of criticism from his fellow officers, but he pointed out that he carried a special command from Roosevelt to see exactly what could be done with the Japanese, and he was going to explore all possibilities; but when he next proposed that no Japanese be evacuated to prison camps, neither on Molokai nor anywhere else, the roof fell in.

  "Do you mean to say ..." a South Carolina admiral bellowed.

  "I mean to say, sir, that these people are loyal Americans and no purpose would be served by placing them in prison camps."

  "Why, goddamn it, California has shown us the way to handle these traitors."

  "What California has done is its own affair. Here in Hawaii we won't do it that way."

  "By God, Whipple! You're subversive!"

  But Mark Whipple was not deviated one degree from the true course he had set himself. When a convocation of his own family warned him, "There's a good deal of apprehension about you, Mark. Military people say you're imperiling your whole career," he replied, "In this matter, I have a special burden to bear which only I can bear, and I would prefer to hear no more gossip of any kind. Because what I am about to propose next is going to tear this entire military community apart. Maybe you'd better fortify your tired nerves."

  What he proposed was this: "I think we had better form, right now--this week--a special unit of the United States Army composed solely of Japanese boys from Hawaii. Use them in Europe. Throw them against the Germans, and when they perform as I know they will, they'll not only re-establish their credentials here but in America. They will give all free men a propaganda victory over Naziism that will reverberate around the world. With their courage, they will prove Hitler wrong on every single count of his philosophy."

  A gasp went up, which was duly reported by cable to Washington, where it was augmented: "Japanese troops in the American Army? And a special unit at that? Ridiculous."

  But one man did not think it ridiculous, the President of the United States, and when he had studied Colonel Whipple's report he issued a statement which read: "Patriotism is not a matter of the skin's color. It is a matter of the heart."

  In Hawaii there was still vigorous opposition to the formation of such a unit, but when the President's order reached Honolulu in mid-May of 1942 grudging compliance was obligatory, and one gruff general asked, "Who'd want to march into battle with a regiment of Japs behind him?"

  "I would," Colonel Whipple replied.

  "You mean . . . you're volunteering for the job?"

  "I am, sir."

  "You've got it, and I hope you don't get shot in the back." Colonel Whipple saluted and took prompt steps to assemble into one unit all the Japanese boys already in the army--men like Goro Sakagawa of the 298th Infantry--and to pave the way for later acceptance of others like those now in the V.V.V. or those like young Shigeo who were about ready for the draft. The Whipple family was distressed that their most brilliant son was imperiling his career by such imprudent action, but as he had told them earlier, in this matter he bore a special burden.

  It arose from the fact that when he was a boy in Honolulu no Chinese would speak to him, for he was the son, of the man who had burned Chinatown at the instigation of the haole merchants. He could never bring himself to believe that his gentle, courageous father, Dr. Whipple, had done such a thing, but the Chinese were certain that he had. To them the name of Whipple was ugly, and they were not reluctant to demonstrate this fact to young Mark. Finally, when his own haole playmates began to tease him, he accosted his father and had asked him point-blank: "Dad, did you burn Chinatown?"

  "Well, in a manner of speaking, I did."

  "In order to put the Chinese merchants out of business?"

  His father had stopped and bowed his head. "So now you've heard that? What did they say?"

  "They say there was a little sickness, and the haole storekeepers talked you into burning Chinatown and putting all the Chinese out of business."

  "Now exactly who said this, son?"

  "The haoles. The Chinese didn't say it because they won't even speak to me. But I know they think it."

  Dr. Hewlett Whipple was then a man of forty, and about as successful a medical practitioner as one could hope to be in Honolulu, but the weight of his son's charge was very heavy indeed upon his soul. He led his twelve-year-old son to a grassy spot under a tree on the lawn of his Punchbowl home and said, "Now you ask me all the questions that worry you, Mark. And never forget what I reply."

  "Did you burn Chinatown?"

  "Yes."

  "And did the Chinese lose all their stores?"

  "Yes."

  Mark had no further questions, so he shrugged his shoulders. His father laughed and said, "You aren't going to stop there, are you?"

  "You've told me what I wanted to know," the boy replied.

  "But aren't you concerned about the real truth? What really happened?"

  "Well, like the boys said, you admitted burning the place."

  "Mark, this is what truth is. Going behind what you hear first. Asking a hundred questions until you can make up your own mind on the basis of real evidence. Now let me ask the questions that you should have. All right?"

  "Okay."

  "Dr. Whipple, why did you burn Chinatown? Because a dreadful plague threatened the city.

  "Did burning Chinatown help save the city? It saved ten thousand lives.

  "Did you intend to burn the Chinese stores? No, the fire got out of hand. It ran away from us.

  "Did you do anything to help the Chinese? I ran into the middle of the fire myself and helped them to safety.

  "Were you sorry that the fire got out of hand? When I got home and looked back upon the destruction I sat down and wept.

  "Would you burn it again under the same circumstances? I would."

  A silence fell over the Whipples and they looked down at their city. Young Mark, in those moments, caught a glimmer of what truth was, but what his father said next exploded truth from a shimmering substance playing upon the edges of the mind into a radiant reality, for he said, "There are two other questions which have to be asked, and these require longer answers. Are you ready?"

  "Yes."

  "
Dr. Whipple, tell me honestly, were there not some haoles who were glad to see Chinatown burned? Of course there were. And some Chinese, too. Any good action in the world will be used by some to their own economic advantage. Any misfortune will be used the same way. Therefore, you would expect some to profit from the burning and to be glad that it happened. When the fire was over, these same men rebuilt Chinatown exactly as it was before, so as to keep on making a little money from the hovels. So if your Chinese friends say there were some who were glad to see the Chinese stores destroyed, they are correct. But I was not one of them.

  "Dr. Whipple, can you not, even so, understand why the Chinese hate you? Of course I understand. They believe falsehood, and it's always easier to accept a lie than to find out the truth. When I move through Honolulu, this is one of the burdens I am forced to bear. The Chinese hate me. But if they knew the truth, they would not."

  As a colonel in the United States Army, Mark Whipple often remembered that discussion with his father, and sometimes when he was required to make his men do brutal or unpleasant work, he knew that in ignorance they would hate him, whereas if they knew the truth they would not. So when he returned to Hawaii to deal with the Japanese problem, he was motivated by an acute desire that he, Mark Whipple, should, by dealing with the Japanese honestly, erase the stigma that his father Hewlett Whipple had suffered at the hands of the Chinese. In a sense, therefore, he did not volunteer to lead the Japanese troops; he was impelled by the entire history of his family to do so; for the Whipples of Hawaii were - people who tried always to keep history straight.

  His all-Japanese outfit, commanded by a cadre of haole officers, was known as the 222nd Combat Team, and it became a running joke in the unit for older men to ask newcomers, "What's your outfit, son?" And when the private replied, "The Two-Two-Two," the old-timers would shout, "Listen! He's playing train!" Later they would bellow, "What's your unit?" and the private replied, "The Two-Two-Two," they would growl, "Speak up, son! Don't stutter."

  The arm patch of. the Two-Two-Two consisted of a blue sky against which rose a brown Diamond Head, at whose feet rested one palm tree and three white lines of rolling surf. Below in block letters stood the pidgin motto: "Mo Bettah." It was a handsome patch, and spoke of Hawaii, but the outfit did not appreciate how much Mo Bettah home was than some other places until they set up their basic training camp at Camp Bulwer in the boondocks of Mississippi.

  On the first day in town Goro Sakagawa had to go to the toilet, and through ignorance stumbled into the "White" toilet. "Get out of here, you goddamned yellow-belly!" a native growled, and Goro backed out. Others had similar experiences, so that trouble threatened, but that night Colonel Mark Whipple showed the kind of man he was. Assembling the entire unit he shouted, "You men have only one job. Allow nothing whatever, neither death nor humiliation nor fear nor hunger, to deviate you from that job. You are here to prove to America that you are loyal citizens. You can do this only by becoming the finest soldiers in the American army and the most efficient fighters.

  "If the people of Mississippi want to abuse you, they are free to do so. And you will keep your big mouths shut and take it. Because if any man in this outfit causes even one shred of trouble, I will personally ride him right to the gates of hell. Are there any questions?"

  "Am I supposed to take it if some local yokel calls me a slant-eyed yellow-belly?"

  "Yes!" Whipple stormed. "By God yes! Because if you're so sensitive that you are willing to imperil the future of all the Japanese in America for such a cause, then by God, Hashimoto, you are a slant-eyed yellow-belly. You're a creep. You're a damned Jap. You're what everybody accuses you of being, and in my eyes you're no man."

  "Then we take it?" Goro asked in deep, stomach-churning fury. "Whatever they want to call us?"

  "You take it," Whipple snarled. "Can't you add, you damned, stubborn buddha-heads?" As he said this he laughed, and the tension was broken. "For the insults that one accidental man throws at you, are you willing to put into jeopardy the future of three hundred thousand Japanese? Don't be idiots. For the love of Christ, don't be idiots."

  From the rear ranks a sergeant grumbled, "I guess we can take it."

  Then Colonel Whipple said, "Keep this vision in mind, men. As a unit you're going to strike the German army some day. And when you do, you're going to win. Of that there can be no doubt, for I have never led finer men. And when you win, you will triumph over bigotry at home, over Hitlerism abroad, over any insult you have ever borne. Your mothers and fathers and your children after you will lead better lives because of what you do. Aren't these stakes worth fighting for?"

  Colonel Whipple laid down the most rigid rules and enforced them brutally: "Not a word of Japanese will be spoken in this outfit. You're Americans. Under no circumstances are you to ask a white girl for a date. It makes local people mad. You are absolutely forbidden to date a colored girl. That makes them even madder. And they have four long trains that haul beer into this state every week. You can't possibly drink it all."

  Remorselessly Colonel Whipple drove his men according to West Point traditions of military behavior and his own family traditions of civil decency. In all America no unit in training suffered more disciplinary action than the Two-Two-Two, for their colonel held them responsible both on the post and off, and at the slightest infraction, he punished them. There was only one flare-up. After a great deal of heart-probing consultation the good people of Mississippi decided that so far as public toilets and buses were concerned, the Japanese soldiers were to be considered white men and were thus obligated to use white facilities; but where socializing with the community was concerned, it was better if they considered themselves halfway between the white and the Negro and off-limits to each.

  This was too much, and Goro went to see Colonel Whipple. "I appreciate what you said, Colonel, and we've been abiding by your rules. But this directive on toilets is just too much. I can urinate like a white man but I've got to socialize like a Negro. The basic thing we're fighting for is human decency. Our men don't want the kind of concessions Mississippi is willing to make. We want to be treated like Negroes."

  Colonel Whipple did not rant. He said quietly, "I agree with you, Sakagawa. Decency is one unbroken fabric without beginning or end. No man can logically fight for Japanese rights and at the same time ignore Negro rights. Logically he can't do it, but sometimes he's got to. And right now is one of those times."

  "You mean we're to accept what Mississippi says, even though we know that given a chance they'd treat us worse than they do the Negroes?"

  "That's the tactical situation you find yourself in."

  "It's so illogical our men may not be able to take it."

  Again Colonel Whipple failed to bellow. Instead he picked up an order and waved it at Goro, saying, "And the reason you'll take it is this paper. The army has agreed to accept all Japanese boys who want to volunteer. Your two brothers in the V.V.V. will be transferred to the outfit tonight. Now if trouble were to start in Mississippi, all that I've managed to acquire for you fellows would be lost. So, Goro, you urinate where the haoles tell you to."

  In accordance with the new directive, the army announced that it would beef up the Two-Two-Two by adding 1,500 volunteers from Hawaii and 1,500 from the mainland, but the plan didn't work because in Honolulu 11,800 rushed forward to serve, stampeding the registration booths. Seven out of eight had to be turned down, including Shigeo Sakagawa, who wept. But on the mainland only 500 volunteered, leaving a thousand empty spaces. Quickly the army returned to Hawaii and filled the gaps left by the poor response of the mainland Japanese, and in this second draft, young Shig was accepted.

  When President Roosevelt compared the contrasting reactions of the two groups, he ordered Colonel Whipple to submit an explanation of what had happened, and Whipple wrote: "Far from being a cause for concern, the differential should encourage us in our devotion to the perpetual effectiveness of democracy. If the result had been any different, I should have be
en worried. That the Hawaii Japanese behaved well and that the mainland boys did not is to me, and I think to America, reassuring.

  "In Hawaii, Japanese were free to own land. In California they were not. In Hawaii they could become schoolteachers and government employees. In California they could not. In Hawaii they were accepted into our best schools, but not in California. In Hawaii they were built into our society and became a part of us, but in California they were rejected.

  "More important, when war came the Japanese on the mainland were herded into concentration camps and their belongings were ruthlessly stripped from them at five cents on the dollar. In Hawaii there was some talk of this, but it was never permitted to go very far. Right after Pearl Harbor a good many Japanese in Hawaii were rounded up for concentration camps, but my aunt tells me that she personally, along with other Caucasian leaders of the community, went to the jail and effected the release of those she knew to be loyal. In short, the Japanese in Hawaii had every reason to fight for America; those on the mainland had none; and the basic difference lay not in the Japanese but in the way they were treated by their fellow citizens.

  "So is it not logical that if you tell a group of Hawaiian Japanese who have not been thrown into camps or robbed of their belongings, 'You can volunteer to help us fight oppression! that 11,800 should leap forward? And is it not logical that if you go through concentration camps and tell the brothers of these same men, 'We have abused you, imprisoned you, humiliated you, and stolen your belongings, but now we want you to volunteer to fight for us,' is it not logical that they should reply, 'Go to hell'? I am astonished that so many of the mainland Japanese volunteered. They must be very brave men, and I shall welcome them in my unit."