Our Sergeant is a man by the name of Yates, who only somewhat disguises his dislike for this assignment and of us. He is about six foot tall, one hundred eighty pounds, bald and wears what seems to be a perpetual scowl on his heavily scarred face. Our corporal is Nisei, a member of the Hawaii National Guard and much more approachable. The corporal enters our tent and announces we are taking a five mile “stroll” before chow and we are to fall out immediately.
Sergeant Yates is silently watching as we form up for the march. He slowly walks up and down our squad without saying a word. He mumbles something to the corporal, who quickly turns to face us and yells out: “Double time!” We are off for a five mile ‘stroll’ before chow. Given that we have been on a train for days, I don’t mind at all.
Adjusting to Army food is more difficult than the physical training. However, today I discover they have included boiled rice with our dinner though I have grown to enjoy potatoes and to tolerate overcooked vegetables that are completely absent of flavor. Most of the time I am not familiar with the meats served and long for some nice fish. Any kind of fish.
As we begin the second month of training we have spent no time actually firing our rifles. It is a very impressive weapon and is quite unlike any I experienced in Japan. Today, however, we finally find ourselves on the rifle range where Sergeant Yates is yelling derogatory comments at us. It is obvious that just about every one of my fellow volunteers is unfamiliar with firing a rifle. However, Sergeant Yates remains very quiet when I am firing. I do not understand if he stays quiet because I am such an excellent shot or because he is waiting for me to miss so he can belittle me. Either way, I much prefer when he is not yelling as I do not understand half the words that come from his mouth.
The countryside around the camp features rolling hills, thick forests and numerous dairy farms. We routinely embark on hikes of up to fifty miles, carrying huge amounts of equipment. I do not recall ever seeing soldiers in the Japanese army carrying so much equipment. Some of the local civilians stop and stare as we march past while others do not appear to notice us. We have not had any opportunities to venture into the local town and I wonder how the locals feel about us.
After more than two months living in tents the new barracks are ready. Just in time too, as the nights have been growing cold. We immediately begin setting up our bunks and footlockers. Of course, now that we are in a barracks, there are daily inspections which are even more thorough than when we were living in tents and we soon discover Sergeant Yates can create many more opportunities to hand out punishments. One of his favorites is to order the performance of one hundred push-ups, especially if it is raining. Sometimes he has another soldier sit on the back of the unfortunate private performing push-ups.
Today marks the end of five months of training and results in our first serious accident. While practicing on the mortar range our corporal was demonstrating the method of dropping the mortar into the tube, but failed to pull his hand out in time. The mortar fired and cut off his thumb. We find ourselves without a corporal and with only a month of training to go, it is unlikely he will return in time to ship off with us, if ever.
“Kida!” I jump off my bunk and stand at attention as Sergeant Yates stands in the doorway. “Here, Sergeant!”
“Meet me in my office!” Sergeant Yates does not wait for me to respond and immediately leaves. I grab my hat and run after him. When I reach his office I discover he is already seated and I automatically stand at attention.
“Relax Kida and grab a seat.” I sit on the wood bench he has set in front of his desk.
“As ya know, Corporal Sasaki isn’t likely to be rejoinin’ us for some time.” He pauses as he lights a cigarette. “I’ve been watchin’ you Kida.” He leans forward as he looks me directly in the eyes. “Now let me make one thing very clear here.” He takes three puffs, while staring at me the entire time.
“I’m no big backer of handin’ rifles to ya Nips and sendin’ ya’ll off to fight alongside the rest of us. Nope. After Pearl Harbor it makes me downright antsy knowin’ ya folks have guns and that we’re bustin’ our butts teachin’ ya’ll how to use ‘em. But I can’t control what them big shots in Washington tell me to do. All I can do is train ya’ll as best I can and trust in the good Lord and General Marshall that they know what the hell they’re doin’.” He finishes his cigarette and puts it out in a tin ashtray on his desk.
“But I gotta say this,” he lights another cigarette and leans back in the chair, “last month when those compadres of yours dived themselves into that half frozen lake and pulled out them drownin’ local kids, that told me all I really need to know about y’all’s loyalty, and bravery for that matter.” I realize he is referring to an incident where three of my fellow soldiers dove into a near-frozen pond and saved the lives of two young locals.
“I’ll fight them Nazis with your kind and have a little more piece of mind ‘bout it. Mind ya now, I’m not sayin’ I’d like it, but I’ll do it without complainin’ to nobody. Yep, yankin’ them young folks from that pond tells me y’all’s eyes might be slanted, but your’e a straight shoot’n bunch of American Nips.” He returns his cigarette to his mouth and takes a huge puff, blowing smoke rings directly into my face. I really don’t understand everything he just said, but shake my head in agreement.
“So, as of right now, Kida, y’all’s the squad’s new corporal and my new right hand man. Got anything to say?”
I am completely taken by surprise. So many thoughts are running through my mind as I attempt to digest everything he just said. I am going to be the right hand man to someone who might sooner see me confined for the entire war? At least he is being up front with me, which does provide me some comfort. I know where he stands and I know he is going to follow the rules without regard to his personal opinions. I admire him for being man enough to recognize that he can’t ignore bravery. Finally, I muster an answer.
“Thank you Sergeant. You will receive only my best efforts.”
A smile actually crosses his face. He lights another cigarette. “Cigarette?” He says as he offers me one.
“No thank you Sergeant, I prefer not to smoke, if you don’t mind.” Again, he smiles.
“That’s fine Kida. After some combat experience ya’ll might just rethink that.” I hold back an answer as I have been in combat and never felt a need to smoke. Of course, he cannot know so I remain quiet.
“That’s settled so meet me back here at eighteen hundred thirty hours. I need to begin reviewin’ company procedures with ya as there’s a shitload of stuff to learn. Now get along to the Quartermaster and pick up some new stripes and get ‘em sewn on pronto!” I rise and fight back the instinct to salute him.
“Thanks Sergeant. I will return at eighteen hundred thirty hours!”
I quickly adapt to my new responsibilities as the final month of training proves to be a whirlwind. Forced marches, rifle range, hand-to-hand combat drills, live fire drills and a great deal more. There is also time for baseball which I played as a youth and enjoy very much. Rumors abound as we near the end of our training; some say we are headed to the Mediterranean where we will join in the invasion of Italy while others say we are to invade Greece, and still others speculate we will be sent to England. Fumio, as usual, seems particularly well informed. We discuss the situation as we sit under a tree near the baseball fields.
“I hear we’ll be sent to Camp Shelby in Mississippi.” Fumio sounds depressed.
“Mississippi? That makes no sense.”
“That’s what I hear, and we’re going to be informed tomorrow. Mark my words, Ken, the big brass doesn’t trust us. I think it’s as simple as that, my friend.” We both grow quiet as we contemplate still more training.
“Hey, that was a good play you made at third yesterday.” Fumio nudges me and smiles. “If only you could hit!”
“If only I could hit?” I pretend to be offended. “My uncle taught me to play when I was only eight. He even took me to see an American League A
ll-Star team. I see no dishonor in two doubles which are more impressive than the two infield singles you managed my friend! I think the Americans call your hits ‘bloopers’” We both laugh and the change of topic helps me relax. I know Fumio has proven to be correct most of the time when it comes to what the Army plans for us. But there is nothing I can do, save to wait for my orders. My evening meditation will be more important to me than most as I expect my new assignment in the morning. Meditation is important for my soul and I recall the words of Buddha: “Just as a candle cannot burn without fire, men cannot live without a spiritual life.”
I awake to the chirping of many varieties of birds. The sky is revealing the first signs of daylight and I am anxious for the day to commence. Before anyone else in my platoon is awake I am dressed and ready for roll call. Surely, just once, Fumio could be wrong. Reveille, roll call, chow, all come and go. Still no word. Finally, Sergeant Yates makes his appearance.
“Corporal Kida!” “Yes, Sergeant!” I jump to my feet as I shout my response.
“Corporal, get over to Captain Sterling’s office, Hut B, and make it snappy!” His usual gruff voice seems to me to be softened slightly as he is wearing just a hint of a smile. That little smile troubles me as it is out of character for him.
“Yes, Sergeant, I am on my way!” Without making direct eye contact, I trot from the hut and, as soon as I am out of sight of the Sergeant, break into a full run. I slow down and compose myself as I reach Hut B. The front door is wedged open and I walk in to find a pair of Japanese/American lieutenants sitting on a desk. Surprised, I stop, go to attention and salute. They appear a bit amused as they return my salute.
“Something we can do for you corporal?” Asks one of the Lieutenants.
“Yes Sirs, Corporal Kida reporting to Captain Sterling as requested.” I remain at attention, awaiting a reply.
“Oh, so you are Corporal Kida.” Just as I am about to reply he raises his right hand and says “No need to answer that.” He is eyeing me very closely while the other lieutenant walks over to a closed door and knocks. From behind the door comes a response.
“Yes?” The voice sounds annoyed and I fear that must be Captain Sterling.
“Lieutenant Fuchida here, Sir. Corporal Kida has arrived.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant, send him in.”
Lieutenant Fuchida opens the door and motions for me to enter. The door is quietly closed behind me.
Sitting behind a wood desk that must be left over from a turn of the century school room is Captain Sterling. He looks to be in his late twenties, blonde hair, neatly cropped, a bronze star on his shirt, along with what I believe are engagement ribbons. I am not familiar with the patch on his shoulder which is in the shape of a shield. The upper portion depicts a gold Sun on the left side and a gold star on the right, over a blue background. There are five vertical stripes starting with red then gold, then red, then gold, then red. I have no idea what it signifies.
I stand at attention and salute. “Corporal Kida, as requested Sir.” The Captain returns my salute.
“Sit down, Corporal. Like some coffee?” He motions to a steaming pot sitting on a field stove next to an open window. “Thank you Sir, but I have already had my share today.”
“Well, I seldom take a pass on a cup of joe. Bad habit, I guess.” His voice is calm and helps me relax. I watch as he walks over and pours some coffee into a large ceramic mug with the relief of a cow painted on it. He returns to his chair and opens a file lying on his desk. He sips at his coffee as he sifts through the file. Finally, he pushes it away and looks me directly in the eyes.
“Corporal, I’ve been watching you for the last four weeks after your sergeant sent us a report about you which piqued our interest. To be clear, I am referring to Army Intelligence.”
With that statement, my heart drops into my feet. My God, I have been found out! Sitting still at this moment is tantamount to punishment. I feel my blood pressure rising and focus on the image of a cherry tree in full blossom. This image calms me, but just barely.
“Ever see a patch like this one?” He points to the odd patch on his left shoulder.
“No Sir, I have not.” I can barely get the words out. Sterling notices I am nervous.
“Well, no need to worry because you’re not in any kind of trouble. For your information this patch refers to the China-Burma-India theatre where I’ve been serving for the last eighteen months.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I see. So that is the Chinese insignia. Now I recognize it.” I reply, for in truth, I do recognize it now.
“Well, Sergeant, oh, excuse me, as I almost forgot, you’ve been promoted to Sergeant. We’ve had a great deal of difficulty coordinating air support, artillery support and the like due to a lack of interpreters over there. That’s where you come in.” Sterling finishes his coffee, walks to the coffee pot and refills his mug. He now leans against the window frame before continuing.
“I’ve put together five other Nisei soldiers with similar skills to your own from your class and they will form the basis of your squad. You can pick up the rest of your squad in Honolulu. In fact, you arrive there in about five weeks. From that point you and your squad will sail to Australia and eventually arrive in Burma. That will give you a good eight to ten weeks, perhaps longer, to get familiar with your men, study the field reports and prepare for your assignment in Burma.” Sterling gulps down the last of his coffee, places the cup on the window ledge and returns to his chair.
“You see, once there we plan to fly you and your squad over the ‘hump’ to join the Chinese. We’ll be starting a major campaign to connect our lines with the Chinese Nationals so we can carve an overland supply route from India which is critical to our success.”
“There’s going to be a critical push we’re coordinating with the Chinese and the interpretive skills for both Japanese and Chinese of you and your men may prove be critical. And that’s not to mention your superior training and discipline. In my opinion, and this is between you and me, the Chinese soldiers are brave, but poorly trained and their officer corps definitely lacks discipline.”
“You previously indicated, and we have quietly tested, you have a reasonably good command of Chinese. I see from your records you also have a decent command of Korean. You never know, that could come into play before it’s all over too. So, Sergeant, any questions?”
“Where do I meet my squad and when do we ship out? I want to get to work!”
“Good attitude. Your squad’s gathered outside the mess tent as we speak. Pick up your stripes and sew ‘em on before you meet them. First impressions Sergeant, always remember you only get one chance to make a first impression. So get your stripes on first because the men will wait. In fact, the longer they wait, the more scuttlebutt they’ll indulge in. It’ll afford you a great opportunity to go in there and set them all straight.” Sterling pauses, a smile on his face.
“Oh, I suggest you don’t choose your corporal until you have your entire squad together in Honolulu. You don’t want those fellas out there thinking they got short-changed at the promotion ladder simply because they’re in Hawaii. Got that?”
“Yes Sir. Anything else?”
Sterling stands, pulls out a sealed envelope from his center desk drawer and hands it to me. “Here’s your formal orders. Good chance I’ll see you in China sometime in the next year.”
I rise and accept the envelope. “Kida, read your orders carefully. You’ll find I have also included a brief rundown of your squad members. Unless you have any questions, that’s it. Good luck!”
I salute and just before I turn to leave, I say: “Thank you Sir. I trust I will see you in China!”
I exit and very quickly walk to the quartermaster and pick up a few sets of stripes for my shirts, jackets and helmet. The quartermaster anticipated my arrival and had everything I need including a new helmet with netting. He proves more than happy to help as he is Nisei as well. I consider the fact my father died while fighting in
China and now I will be journeying there myself. Is it an omen of my own death? Tonight’s meditation cannot come too soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
It is March, 1944, and my squad is assigned to the 150th Chinese Regiment. We are joining with the First Marauder Regiment of the famous ‘Merrill’s Marauders” and plan to attack a small village by the name of Lazu. The conditions are terrible and disease is rampant. All of us have, by now, contracted Malaria, but the Chinese are particularly short of medical supplies and it seems to me that untreated malaria is the accepted fate for the Chinese soldier. We are faring better as we are supplied with quantities of Atabrine. Though we are attached to the Chinese most of our supplies originate with our own army or the British. I cannot understand why the Chinese soldiers are so much worse off than we are and suspect some of the Chinese officers may be selling medical supplies on the black market.
The Japanese soldiers we manage to capture are surprisingly talkative. One young sergeant tells me that they have absolutely no medical supplies, no fuel and no reliable supply lines. By feeding him a hot meal of steamed vegetables and rice, he, in turn, outlines the locations of several machine gun positions in the area. The result is we save quite a few lives. After some brief but fierce resistance we capture Lazu and I am summoned to headquarters for de-briefing.
We are taking a short break as I watch an Army DC-3 coming in for a landing on a piece of ground that only weeks earlier was dense jungle. I have been ordered to attend a briefing at eleven hundred hours and am to serve as the interpreter for a Chinese General by the name of Weili. I have worked with him once before and recognize him as he disembarks from the DC-3. If he is here then something big must be brewing. I make my way over to the command Quonset hut a little before the briefing is scheduled to commence.
Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 23