The Purple Heart

by Vincent Yee

  Everyone froze at that moment as the general surveyed the entire situation. He saw two Japanese men clobbering one of his soldiers. He saw women and children huddled along to the right of him. Then he saw Minami with her torn dress and holding her baby. He looked down just as Kiddache turned up his bloodied face and a glint of recognition resonated in the general’s face.

  * * *

  Peter suddenly looked up. Akira had appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t speak a word, but he wore an expression of immense shame and remorse as he looked down at Hiroshi and Peter. He silently bent down and carefully draped Hiroshi’s right arm over his shoulders. He looked at Peter and said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Peter nodded and hobbled down the slope and past a tree with Akira and Hiroshi behind him. He tucked Hiroshi’s bloodied letter into his inner pocket when his ears suddenly picked up a familiar mechanical grinding sound. He spun around in fear. Akira had just made it to the tree with Hiroshi, when a Nazi tank took up position right above the bombed-out bunker. The barrel of the tank pointed directly at them. It didn’t hesitate as it fired with a thunderous boom. A shell slammed into Akira and Hiroshi and propelled their bodies against a tree. The cataclysmic explosion engulfed everything around them. Before Peter could react from the horror of watching his two friends disintegrate before his very eyes, a large fiery part of the tree came flying at him, knocking him out.

  * * *

  “General! I’m so glad that you showed up just in time. These Japs just started to assault…” said Kiddache as he began to offer an explanation. The faint distinct impression of Hiroshi’s blue inked autograph could be seen on Kiddache’s swollen left eye.

  Minami quickly cut him off as her voice reached a crescendo that silenced everything in the room. “That’s a lie! He tried to rape me and threatened to kill my baby if I didn’t do as he said!” she protested.

  There was total silence in the room as the general looked at the stern but resolute face of Minami and then the bloodied and swollen face of Kiddache. A heavy breath came from the general’s mouth and he turned to the two MPs.

  “Take that soldier into custody and throw him in the brig.”

  Minami watched as the two MPs took a beaten Kiddache when her eyes suddenly focused on the wavering candle flame on the windowsill, right before it flickered out.

  T W E N T Y S E V E N

  Aiko’s grandmother and Mr. Tanaka had finished their horrific stories. The baseball sat on the coffee table with Hiroshi’s slightly faded autograph facing upward. No one had drunk much of the tea as it slowly went cold. The four of them sat around the coffee table as a shroud of silence descended upon them. Mr. Tanaka leaned slightly into his wife, who gently held her husband’s hands. There was a disturbed look on his face as the story unleashed a torrent of horror that could only be imagined in war. Aiko looked over at her grandmother, who was staring silently into her teacup. The ordeal that she had gone through was also disturbing, but her resilience was a testament to her strength.

  The silence was suffocating. Aiko reached out for her grandmother’s warm, slender hands, and she instinctively took her granddaughter’s hand in return

  “I never knew…” began Aiko as she paused, “How heroic Grandpa was.”

  Her grandmother continued staring down at the teacup, watching the reflection of herself stare back at her. In that dark reflection, despite the platinum hair, she could almost see the young and pretty woman she used to be. She nodded her head gently.

  “Even though he wasn’t there that night, he still saved my life,” said Aiko’s grandmother as a smile slowly crept across her face.

  “He was there to save mine,” said Mr. Tanaka quietly.

  Aiko’s grandmother looked up at the man before her who she had not known until a few hours ago but suddenly, there was a bond between them. Through sheer fate, she had learned the fate of her husband. Even though Hiroshi did not make it home, he made sure that someone else did. His selflessness was immeasurable.

  “That sounds like my husband,” said Aiko’s grandmother proudly.

  Mr. Tanaka then regained his composure as he thought about the man whom he had credited with saving his own life. There was a steadfast respect for the man whom he had known as “Home Run,” and it surged through him with confidence.

  “Mrs. Satoh, you should be proud of Hiroshi,” said Mr. Tanaka as his voice slowly built up strength. “Hiroshi was a man above men. He was by all account a true American hero.”

  Mr. Tanaka then reached into his inner coat pocket and produced the Ziploc bag. The last letter that Hiroshi ever wrote and the one that was never delivered. He gently held the letter between his hands, as his expression grew guilty.

  “I’ve held onto this for many years, but had forgotten about it. I promised your husband that I would deliver this to you. I feel deeply ashamed that I neglected that promise to Hiroshi, and I can only hope that you will forgive me,” said Mr. Tanaka as his voice began to tremble.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” advised Aiko’s grandmother reassuringly, though she didn’t fully understand what Mr. Tanaka was referring to. “The war affected many things for many of us. Everything has its time.”

  Mr. Tanaka nodded as he looked down at the letter once again. In the handwriting of his friend, it read, “To my dear Minami Satoh.” Without any further hesitation, he looked up at Aiko’s grandmother. “He also wanted me to tell you that he loved you,” said Mr. Tanaka. He then turned the letter around and extended the letter to her with both of his hands. “Please accept this letter from Hiroshi, your husband.”

  The letter surprised her. It didn’t seem possible, but in front of her was a man who was not only present on the last day of her husband’s life, he also had a letter from him. She calmly collected herself but found that she hesitated. For all these years, she lived her life without Hiroshi, but had always held him in her heart. Her own strength and the support of her family was what carried her through her difficult life and made her the woman that she was. But now, she was about to read the actual last words from her long-departed husband and she wasn’t sure what they would say. She was somewhat afraid of what the letter might say and how it would alter her own very life. Would there be a promise in there that she did not honor or were there expectations that would suddenly make herself question how she lived her life? Would the words from the past irrevocably change the present?

  “Grandma, it’s from Grandpa,” said Aiko softly. “He would want you to read it.”

  Aiko’s grandmother nodded and awoke from her conflicting thoughts. Her granddaughter was right. Her husband wrote the letter for her and he would have wanted her to read it. Hiroshi knew he was dying and entrusted the letter to his friend, whom he had saved so that the letter could be delivered. In that last moment, he was thinking of her.

  Aiko’s grandmother reached out with both of her hands. She noticed with embarrassment that her hands were trembling. But her fingers closed upon the letter as Mr. Tanaka let go and pulled his hands away. He had delivered the letter and completed his last duty. Aiko’s grandmother found that her eyes were suddenly locked on the letter as she drew it closer. Then for the first time, she read the writing on the envelope, “To my dear Minami Satoh.”

  It was an odd moment. Time seemed to slow down. Her eyes focused on the letter with keen interest from the yellowish tinged envelope to the dark brown splotches along the right side of the paper. She found suddenly a sense of sorrow when she realized that the dark brown splotches were her husband’s bloodstains. The letter had also brought back a part of him. Her right hand flew to her mouth to suppress her emotions.

  Aiko looked at her grandmother as her entire attention was focused on the letter. She couldn’t begin to understand the feelings that her grandmother was going through. But she knew that it was a moment that she needed to have alone.

  Aiko glanced toward the Tanakas and as their eyes met, she realized that they felt the same way. Aiko motioned to the front of the house
, where the hallway led into the family room. They understood, and they and Aiko stood up quietly. “It’s okay, Grandma,” Aiko said softly, “I’m just taking them to the family room to show them around.”

  As she heard the soft slippered footsteps of the others fade in the distance, the letter seemed to grow warmer, as if beckoning Minami. The plastic was a bit opaque from age, but the once-white envelope showed through clearly. She ran her fingers along the envelope and could feel the hidden letter within. It was almost as if she wanted to really confirm that there was something inside. Was it one page? Two pages? She wasn’t sure. She was feeling some hesitation once more but couldn’t explain it.

  She held the edges of the seal that had protected the letter for all those years. Slowly, she pulled it apart, as the sound of air seemed to escape from the bag. A stale smell soon emanated from the bag itself, unlocking a long-ago time. She reached into the plastic bag and held the envelope. It seemed exceptionally dry to the touch, brittle almost. She eyed the wrinkles that crisscrossed the outer edges and the creases that were like long crevasses over the terrain of the envelope itself.

  She slowly placed her right fingers onto the bloodstain itself, and a sudden sadness filled her heart. Then she saw the handwriting on the envelope: It was definitely Hiroshi’s. This gave the letter a profundity she had not expected.

  After sniffling a couple of times and composing herself, she straightened up and flipped the envelope over. She pulled away at the flap and found that the adhesive that had held the envelope closed gave way easily. It was a two-page letter in pristine condition. Not a stain of blood had soaked through. The fibers of the paper were a bit crisp but still soft to the touch. She unfolded the letter, and it finally yielded its secrets, the words of a man who had written it more than sixty years ago. Minami took in a deep breath and then began to read.

  Dearest Minami,

  Every letter that you received from me was my way of saying, “Don’t worry, I’m still here.” As long as you received my letters, you would know that I was still with you, and that I would be home soon. The one letter that I never wanted you to receive was from the War Department. I strongly believed that as long as I wrote, I could prevent that one letter from ever reaching you.

  But if you’re reading this letter, then I want you to know that I’ve put all my heart and soul into this last letter to you. It’s the one letter that I never wanted you to read but at the same time, it’s the one letter that I do want you to read if I couldn’t come home.

  Even if home were still in the prison camp, it would still be home as long as I was with you. I fought every single day longing for the day to come home to you and our son. Please tell Ichiro that I love him. Tell him I wish I could have been there for him. Tell him I wanted to play catch with him. Tell him I would have wanted to be the best father a boy could ever have.

  Tell our parents, Miho, Yuka, and Yoshi that I will forever miss them. Thank your parents for me for giving their blessing to our marriage.

  To my beautiful wife, I wish I could have had more children with you. I know you would have been a wonderful mother to them. I would have given you the best home to raise our many beautiful children in, enough to fill a classroom.

  “Me too,” whimpered Minami.

  I never wanted you to worry but I know you did, and for that, I’m thankful. I know that I didn’t have to go, but I hope you understand why I did. And if you hold some resentment, I hope that over time you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

  “I did,” said Minami softly.

  My greatest regret would be that I could not come home to you. At first I wanted to fight to prove to everyone that Japanese Americans were Americans as well. But now that I’m here and witnessed the horrors of war, it’s even more important that America and its allies simply win the war against the tyranny that I’ve seen. I hope that by the time you read this letter, America would have won the war and that Japanese Americans can live the American dream.

  “We did,” said Minami reassuringly.

  I hope that my life and the lives of so many other Japanese Americans will never be forgotten by America. I would want America to know that Japanese Americans also fought for America’s freedom.

  I’m writing this letter on the night before another battle and Minami, it looks like a hell that only the darkest of nightmares could ever conjure up. I looked up at the looming forest whose treetops were bursting with fiery explosions. The ground was rumbling and the trees were shaking. A sinking feeling gripped me. For the first time, I didn’t feel confident. I could not imagine how any man could ask another man to enter such a hell that seemed ready to devour anyone who would dare to foolishly venture into it.

  I look at the men around me. I’m now a sergeant, so I’m responsible for these young brave lives. They all still have lives ahead of them. They’re sons, brothers, uncles, boyfriends, husbands and some are just kids. I hope that I can get them all home.

  I miss Kenji. I will never forget that day when I failed him, and I hope that I will not fail if Peter’s or Akira’s life is at stake.

  “You didn’t,” said Minami as she wiped a tear away from her face.

  To my beautiful wife, I could write pages about your beauty that no book could ever bind, and even if one could, then no shelf could be large enough for the books I would then write, and if a large enough shelf could be built, then no library large enough that could ever hold them all. My love for you is boundless, yearning to be free like torn pages soaring into the vastness of an open blue sky.

  Thinking of the possibility of not coming home to you makes my heart sink like a pebble into the deepest depths of the coldest and darkest ocean. It would never rise to see the sun or feel warmth ever again, no matter how much it yearned to. It would be forever alone.

  Though I cannot be with you, to grow old with you, I want you to go on. I want you to live life for me and promise me you will live it to its fullest. I want you to enjoy the freedom that I know that I have fought for you.

  I want you to gaze up at the sky and remember each animal we ever saw and when you see Aquarius, I want you to remember me because that’s where I’ll be.

  “I have,” as a smile crept onto her face.

  I couldn’t make it home but this letter did. These words now carry every ounce of love that I have for you and they are now forever with you.

  My love will soldier on for you and I remain forever yours. In the short time we’ve had together, no man could have known a purer love than the one we shared together. For what you and I had was truly ours alone.

  Lovingly yours,

  Your husband,

  Hiroshi Satoh

  A tear slowly fell from Minami’s left eye and onto the letter. The teardrop splattered and expanded outward until the page soaked it up as if it yearned for it. “I love you too,” she whispered. Her head sunk forward as she pulled the letter to her heart and wept softly.

  Her emotions lodged in her throat. A mixture of sadness and happiness enveloped her and tugged at her heart. It was devastating to read Hiroshi’s final, grief-filled words to her, but the letter also confirmed everything that she could have hoped for from Hiroshi. She could only imagine what his last day was like and his last thoughts about her. Now she could finally have some comfort, knowing how much he loved her. Minami held the thought of her husband’s love, infused into the ink of the letter itself, ever more tightly as she gently rocked herself back and forth.

  A window had been left opened in the family room, and though it faced away from the coastline, an ocean draft still drifted in and filled the air with a salty scent. The Tanakas were quiet and suddenly felt out of place. Aiko immediately sensed this and offered them seats on the sofa as she pulled up a chair to the left of Mr. Tanaka. The man before her looked so calm, but behind his silent demeanor was a man of courage. Along with so many others, he had braved a war for a country that had only cast suspicion on him. But he was also her grandfather’s friend and now the bea
rer of a silent voice from their family’s dark past.

  “Mr. Tanaka, thank you so much for coming,” said Aiko as she beamed back at him.

  He was holding his wife’s hand when he looked up with a somber face, “It’s my last duty. Something that I should have fulfilled many years ago if I had known.”

  Aiko’s curiosity beckoned her once more, as the mystery as to why the letter was never delivered, was never finished. “What happened?”

  Mr. Tanaka looked up at her and then he looked ahead as if he was staring into something far off into the distance. He then calmly spoke. “When I awoke with that last day seared into my mind, it wasn’t a few days later but rather a few years later. The impact of that falling tree put me into a coma that I would not awake from for the next four years of my life. Those were dark years. I was told that I had no brain activity during my coma, but even so, my mind was haunted by so many images of the war. Especially the one that killed your grandfather and Akira.”

  “I wasn’t myself. The doctors soon discovered that I had partial memory loss. I could remember things, but not when they happened. It was like my mind was a jumble of memories. I had to go through rehabilitation, which was grueling. But the images haunted me every day, and I was a mess. I wanted to forget everything and shut the world out. You can’t possibly imagine what it’s like when all of your memories are not in order. It was enough to drive a person mad. But the one person who stood by me was my wife. Well at that time, she wasn’t my wife yet.”