“So be it, my brave Samurai. Rest here the remainder of the day and after Sayuri feeds you a good dinner you can be off on your journey.” There is sadness in Nobuo’s voice as he clearly would have preferred retaining our company.
Following a wonderful dinner we start out for a residence located roughly twenty kilometers distant. Kamita has wrapped the sword with burlap and has tied our canvas sack to it. Our uniforms and some food are in the sack as we did not risk leaving anything behind that might be inadvertently discovered.
“Kamita, if we maintain this pace we can be at our destination before sunrise!”
“Aye, after two fulfilling meals today I feel I can walk one hundred kilometers tonight,” he replies.
Ken suddenly turns to face Gary and Sun. “When I returned to Oahu after the war, I attempted to determine what became of Nobuo and Sayuri. I discovered Nobuo passed away while in an internment camp on the mainland but I was unable to trace Sayuri. Given current events, it is probably a good thing I was not able to make contact with them again.
“Allow me to continue for I have digressed long enough.” Ken takes a sip of iced tea, makes himself a little more comfortable and continues relating the story of his first life.
Kamita and I establish a good pace as we walk in single file, staying to the left side of a single lane dirt road so we can quickly jump into the cane fields in the event of danger. We have been walking for hours when suddenly we hear a command from behind us:
“Halt! I say halt right now!”
Surprised, whirl around and discover a soldier is standing in the middle of the road, roughly a hundred meters away. We stop, but only momentarily, for the soldier begins to jog towards us.
“Kamita,” I whisper with an urgency in my voice, “run!” We turn and run as hard as we can.
“Halt or I’ll shoot!” Screams the soldier. But we keep running.
The soldier is not bluffing and soon enough we hear gunfire. I surmise he must be running as he fires, for there is a span of several seconds between the shots. I count six shots when I see a dense area of overgrowth approaching on our right. “Follow me,” I call out as I charge into the dense growth.
“Aye” I can hear Kamita gasping for air.
As Kamita overtakes me, there is another gunshot and he falls heavily to the ground. I help him stand, but discover he has been shot in the back. “Can you keep going?” I ask.
“Yes, but there is a burning sensation in my back.” He winces as he reaches behind him and feels the wound. “With your help I can still run.”
We continue to work our way through what proves to be very thick undergrowth as bullets pass nearby. After some time, I really do not know how long, the rifle shots stop. Apparently he has finally lost track of us or given up.
“My friend, I fear we must keep moving until I am certain we are not being followed.” Kamita is breathing too heavily to reply. It takes everything he has to keep moving for he knows there is no other choice.
We continue to press forward for another two hours. Finally, lying before us at the bottom of a small valley is a farm house with outbuildings. Everything is dark and I assume whoever might be inside is asleep. Do I risk going to the door? I look at Kamita’s face and decide he cannot go any further so I decide to run the risk. Glancing at the eastern horizon, I notice early signs of the approaching dawn. We make our way to the front porch where I help Kamita lie down. This is the first time I notice a large, dark red area on the back of his shirt and realize he is bleeding profusely.
I knock on the door and wait. Shortly, I hear footsteps. My breathing stops as the door slowly opens. What luck! I am looking directly into the eyes of a traditionally dressed older Japanese woman in a silk kimono who appears shocked to see me.
“Forgive me, ma’am,” I whisper in Japanese, “I am an officer in the Emperor’s Navy. My engineer has been shot by a sentry.” Her eyes follow my hand as I point to Kamita, lying quietly on her weather worn wood plank porch. She stares at Kamita, then back at me, bows and opens the door fully.
Speaking Japanese, she replies, “Please, bring your engineer inside where I have a cot he can rest on.” I lift him over my right shoulder and carry him into the house. We find ourselves in an open room with a cooking area off to the left where there is a large table and maybe ten chairs around it. The woman points to my right where I notice two cots along the wall. I carry Kamita to the nearest cot and gently lower him, face down.
I look at the woman and say, “If you speak English, I would prefer it please.”
“Please, you sit. Have some pineapple juice,” she says in English, while motioning to a pitcher on the table. “My name is Azumi. My husband Kuro is at another plantation until morning helping with some mechanical repairs.” She looks over at Kamita. “May I tend to your friend’s injury?”
“Thank you. Anything you can do is much appreciated.” Azumi smiles slightly, walks over to a cabinet and retrieves a first aid kit along with a stack of white cloths. “If you would not mind too much, could you fill that bowl over there with some water?”
“Of course.” I immediately take the bowl over to a sink and pump it full of delightfully cold water. I bring the bowl to her and set it on the floor next to Kamita. Azumi is carefully cutting open the back of Kamita’s shirt, revealing a hole in his back that is oozing a steady stream of blood. She soaks one of the cloths in the water, lightly squeezes it and places it upon the wound. Kamita groans in response.
“I believe he very much requires a doctor.” She replaces the first cloth, already soaked through with blood, with a fresh one. “As soon as my husband returns he can drive you to a Japanese doctor we trust. You will be safe with him but first I must attempt to stop this bleeding.” She presses another fresh cloth onto the wound, however Kamita has passed out and utters no sound at all.
“Azumi, what if your husband is stopped by the Army with us in his truck? I do not want to place the two of you in danger.” Azumi shakes her head from side to side.
“No, no, my husband’s old truck is seen all over the island as he performs equipment repairs on many plantations and processing plants. He even has occasion to work for the army. I assure you, he will draw no attention.” She looks at Kamita, as blood is beginning to drip onto the floor.
“In any event, your companion cannot afford any delays. I truly fear for him.” She stands and motions towards the kitchen table. “Please, take a seat and let me fix you some breakfast. The rice should be nearly cooked by now as I have been planning to feed my husband upon his return.”
I stare at Kamita until I discern he is, indeed, still breathing then take a seat at the table. Azumi is busy mixing vegetables, eggs and making some manner of a rice flour batter. She pours all the elements together and places them in her oven. It soon begins to smell very good and the aroma amplifies my hunger. I am also very tired as it has proven to be a very long and difficult night. As Azumi removes the pan from the oven I hear what sounds like a small truck approaching the house. She looks out the window and smiles.
“That is Kuro.”
In a few minutes there is the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the front door. Kuro steps inside and immediately notices me sitting at the table, frowns and stops in his tracks. Then he notices Kamita lying on the cot and an even larger frown crosses his face. Azumi runs up to him motioning in my direction.
“My husband,” she explains in Japanese, “these are two Samurai of the Empire in need of assistance. I am afraid one of them has been shot and requires a doctor.” She motions towards Kamita. Kuro walks over to him and shakes his head at the sight of so much blood. Slowly, he walks over to me. I stand in response but before I can say a word he raises his right hand to silence me.
“No need to speak. I can put two and two together, as they say. You both must have participated in the attack on the harbor. Where is your airplane?” He speaks in Japanese.
I reply in English: “Sir, on behalf of the Emperor, I thank you
for your hospitality. We are members of the Imperial Japanese Navy and our vessel was disabled when we were attacked by the Americans.” I pause long enough to allow him to digest my words.
“We have an immediate need and do not have the luxury of waiting for an invasion. My engineer urgently requires the attention of a surgeon.” I motion towards Kamita.
“What are your names?” Kuro asks.
“Sir, for your own benefit it is best you do not learn our names or our ranks. We do not desire for any harm to come upon you as a result of assisting us. There are people on this island who anticipate they will be called upon to help persons such as ourselves and we were on our way to meet with precisely such a person when my friend was shot.” I notice Kuro keeps staring at the blood dripping on the floor.
“Your wife has been extremely kind to us and I am afraid I must ask you to please transport me and my friend to a surgeon today. I do not believe he can survive the day without professional assistance.”
Kuro remains silent as his gaze switches from me to Kamita and back to me. He notices his wife appears to be silently pleading our cause. Finally, Kuro responds:
“Azumi has prepared us breakfast. It would be a dishonor to her and rude on my part not to invite you to join us so it is my suggestion we eat and then you go to sleep. I will wake you when it is time to leave. I have reason to believe Doctor Ito, who is a relative of mine, will be receptive to your situation, but he is getting up in years and does not open his doors before noon. So, sit and eat!” Kuro takes a seat and motions for me to do the same. Azumi begins to fill our plates, after first placing a pot of hot tea into the center of the table.
“These are very sensitive times in Hawaii. Since your attack the Americans have banned all Japanese language publications and they look upon every person of Japanese descent on the island as if we personally had a role in your handiwork! There is talk of an invasion, but I put little credence in such talk. I am a pragmatist. I base my life on what I can see and what I can control and do not believe our country can possibly move the necessary number of soldiers, tanks, equipment and supplies from Japan, thousands of miles across the Pacific, to here. I have seen how little one passenger ship can hold. It would take a thousand such ships for an undertaking of that magnitude and I do not believe there are one thousand such ships in the world.” He pauses and sighs deeply before continuing.
“No, there is no invasion force over the horizon. I have made the ocean voyage back and forth from Japan maybe five times in the last twenty five years. Unless you have personal knowledge of such a force, I would be planning on some other manner of transport to return to your friends at sea.”
“Sir, before my companion was wounded, a return to our rendezvous point was our first priority. But now, medical attention for his wound is the priority. Make no mistake, I do honor your opinion but I am very anxious to return to my fleet once my engineer is in safe hands.”
With each of us having said what is on our minds we turn our attention to the meal that Azumi has spread across the table before us.
“Azumi, this is a wonderful meal. I cannot express enough gratitude.” The smile on my face transmits more than my words.
Azumi breaks into a large grin and bows her head in modest embarrassment. “Thank you. It is truly an honor to cook for you.” Azumi returns to eating her breakfast and tries not to stare at me. I am of the opinion she considers us to be some manner of heroes of the Empire, not simply sailors seeking a way home.
I make quick work of the food and enjoy some marvelous mango juice. Though I am very tired, I feel good.
“Friend, time for you to get some rest. I will stand watch in the event someone might stop by,” says Kuro who points to an empty cot near Kamita. “Please, use this cot. It is simple, but comfortable.”
“Thank you. I am quite tired and the prospect of a rest is most welcome.” I fall asleep the moment my head hits the cot.
“Wake up! Wake up!” Kuro says as he shakes my shoulder. Instantly I jump up and look around. Kamita is still passed out though it appears Kuro has changed Kamita’s clothes and generally cleaned him up. As I come fully awake I realize Kuro has placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Time to take your friend to Doctor Ito. You hold him by one shoulder, I’ll take the other and we shall lay him in the back of my truck where Azumi will watch over him. You will ride up front with me.” Kuro helps me pick up Kamita and I am alarmed when the movement does not wake my friend or elicit even so much as a groan.
“Gently now,” says Kuro, as he and I place Kamita into the back of his old panel truck, the faded words “Kuro Ito Mechanical” printed on the side panels. Clearly he has had this truck a long time, so it is, indeed, a common sight on the island. I feel a renewal of confidence that he will safely deliver us to the surgeon.
I close the doors to the truck and join Kuro in the front seat. “We have about a ninety minute drive ahead of us, my Samurai friend. Should we be stopped by the authorities just appear to be unconcerned and allow me to respond to any inquiries, understood?”
“Yes I do.” He immediately starts the truck and points us towards the road. The first part of the trip takes us through many pineapple plantations, but the plantations soon give way to scattered houses. Within an hour we find ourselves in Honolulu maneuvering at only a few miles per hour through an extensive outdoor market.
I notice many Chinese among the Japanese, along with occasional Caucasians, but hardly a police officer or soldier in sight, which I take to be a good omen. Suddenly I see two faces I recognize and without thinking I blurt out, “Foruno! Yokoyama!” Both men look up, but fail to recognize from which direction my voice was coming. I think better of further trying to gain their attention and watch them disappear behind us.
“You know someone here?” Kuro asks.
“No, I found myself imagining I was back in Japan and thought two of my friends were in the crowd.
“You apparently need more sleep,” replies Kuro. I am relieved he failed to realize I noticed familiar faces in the crowd. It is much better for him that he does not know there are more here like me. Though I do wonder where they may be going and find myself hopeful we will see each other again, soon.
Eventually we reach our destination which proves to be a large, older home with a side drive. Kuro makes no hesitation and pulls into the driveway which winds around to the back of the house. He fights with the steering wheel as he forces the truck into a position which will allow exiting the rear doors without being visible from the street.
“Stay here and I will seek the doctor.” Kuro quickly makes his way to the back door, knocks twice and, after a brief pause, is allowed in. I exit the cab, walk to the back of the truck and open both doors.
Azumi’s voice conveys her concern. “He has not regained consciousness the entire drive.” I look at a pool of blood on the floor and wonder how much blood my unfortunate friend might still have remaining. I also note that the floorboards in the rear of the truck must be washed before we venture out again.
“Your husband went inside and advised we are to wait here.” Azumi affirmatively shakes her head as she changes the cloth on Kamita’s wound.
Finally, Kuro and two Japanese men carrying a stretcher emerge from the house. Without saying a word they gently place Kamita onto the stretcher and lower him from the truck.
Azumi exits, but does not come into the house with us as Kuro leads the two men carrying Kamita and I follow close behind. We are taken to a treatment room where, with the help of yet another assistant and a female Japanese nurse in a bright white uniform transfer Kamita to an examination table. He quietly moans in response to the movement, the first sounds I have heard from him all day.
Kuro tugs on my sleeve, pulls me to the side and whispers. “Only Doctor Ito knows who the two of you really are. All the staff are under the impression you both work for me and your friend had the misfortune to run afoul of the curfew. Understood?” “Yes, of course,” I reply.
<
br /> The nurse cuts away the remains of Kamita’s shirt, removes the makeshift bandages and cleanses the wound. As if on cue Ito enters, wearing rubber gloves and a magnifying lens over his eyeglasses. He immediately begins to probe the wound which causes Kamita to moan softly. Ito requests a series of instruments from the nurse and is cursing under his breath, in Japanese, of a need for more light.
When we first entered the house clock on the wall read two in the afternoon. At half past three Ito suddenly drops his instrument onto a nearby metal tray with a resounding ‘clank!’ He peels off his rubber gloves, removes the magnifiers from his eyeglasses and motions for me and Kuro to join him in the hallway. “Regretfully, I am unable to retrieve the bullet; perhaps when I was younger, but I seldom perform surgery these days. In any event your friend has lost so much blood I fear his passing has become inescapable.”
He allows me a few moments to absorb the information. “We cannot cremate this young Samurai as it would draw too much attention and involve too many people. Instead, I will arrange a burial and will send a messenger to the appropriate person. In the event he passes today, which is to be anticipated, I would suggest it would be best to bury him during the night. The sooner the better!” Ito is interrupted by his nurse who has appeared from the exam room.
“Doctor,” she says quietly, “the patient has passed.” She takes one step back, awaiting directions.
Ito shakes his head. “Please clean him and close the wound to prevent leaking as he will be transported soon. The nurse quickly disappears into the exam room.
“Doctor Ito, there is quite a bit of blood in the back of the truck. I suggest it be cleaned to avoid unnecessary questions.” I attempt to disguise my distress at Kamita’s passing.
“You make an excellent point and we will attend to it. I must tell you how much I regret your friend’s life could not be preserved. Considering where the bullet managed to lodge itself I doubt anyone could have saved him and you did well to keep him alive as long as you did.” Turning to Kuro, Ito continues: “I will need both the body and our mutual friend delivered to this address today.” He hands a small piece of paper to Kuro who only needs to glance at it.
Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 19