Just as my truck begins to move forward we receive a direct artillery hit to the cab. Our now driverless truck, cab on fire, careens down the embankment along the side of the road. The sensation of rolling over is the last thing I recall, along with burning sensations in my arms.
When I wake up, I find myself lying in a hospital bed. There is a bottle of liquid hanging to my left with a tube that runs into my left wrist. I am glad to see I still have a left wrist.
My head is bandaged, my right arm and leg are in casts. I tell myself to lift my left foot and relax when I see the blanket, where my left foot should be, lift from the bed. It hurts to breathe so I surmise I must have a broken rib. A very pretty Korean nurse, thermometer in hand, smiles as she addresses me in Korean accented English.
“Please open mouth Captain. I check your temperature, ok?” Korean Lieutenant-Nurse Sun Jin-Ho gently places the thermometer into my mouth.
Despite the pain from my wounds I am completely mesmerized by her. I can only describe what I feel as what it must be like when two long-lost lovers bump into each other in the dark, and upon recognizing each other it suddenly becomes day. I am at a loss for words and am embarrassed as I hear the first words I speak to her.
“Am I in Heaven?” I ask in Korean.
She smiles broadly as she removes the thermometer and replies in English;
“No Captain, you are in army field hospital outside Pusan and I am most pleased to report we have put stop to the invasion from the north. You still have slight fever so it be best if you rest.” She tightens up the covers around me and checks the bandages on my head.
“Lieutenant, I don’t recall how I got here. Last thing I knew I was in the back of a truck and we were rolling down a hill.” I continue to speak in Korean.
She checks the pitcher of water next to my bed, fills a glass and hands it to me.
“Here, sip slowly.” I do as requested.
“You arrived by ambulance truck two days ago. There were five men with you and they tell me no others survive. Corporal Kane and Sergeant Mathias have been inquiring about you. They each have broken leg, but are otherwise good and say they dragged you from burning truck.” She walks around to the end of my bed, makes notations into a chart.
“They can visit tomorrow but today you rest, you drink plenty water and you eat. You have three broken ribs so do not move much. Understand, Captain?”
As I seek to establish a dialogue with her I do my best to continue my side of the conversation in Korean. “Yes, I have figured out that much already. Can you tell me what time is it?”
She pulls a watch from her skirt pocket. “It is fourteen hundred hours, Tuesday. I will get you “Stars and Stripes” if you like.”
“Yes, that would be very nice, thank you, but how long is your shift?” I attempt to keep the inflection in my voice calm so as not to give away the fact my heart has been racing. I fear it only renders my Korean a little less polished. “I work to twenty one hundred hours so I will be here some time still. You be hungry?”
I want to tell her I am hungry, but not the manner of hunger that is fed by food. “Just a little. What time is chow?”
“Dinner is in three hour, but if you hungry now, I can make arrangement.”
She stands alongside my bed, an image of beauty, awaiting my answer.
“Three hours is fine, thank you. I am sure you have other patients who need your attention more than I do.” I watch the expression on her face. Perhaps, just perhaps, she harbors a small interest in me.
“I will return to check you later.”
She walks towards a small desk at the end of the ward and converses briefly with another nurse. In a little while she leaves the wardroom so I close my eyes and return to sleep.
Suddenly Ken leans towards Sun and gives her a gentle kiss. They spend a few moments simply looking at each other before Ken turns to Gary.
“You certainly know the rest of my life! You must have asked me to relate the story of how we met a thousand times. When you were very young almost every time you came over to visit you would ask one of us to tell you that story.”
Gary smiles. “I still get a kick out of hearing it.”
“Gary, help me refill the iced tea and put together some cookies.” Sun smiles, stands and takes the empty pitcher with her. She and Gary disappear through the French doors.
“I will wait here.” Ken raises his voice to make certain they hear him.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CONFRONTATION
Sun is carefully arranging three hand-blown glasses on a beautifully hand-painted china platter she bought at an estate sale on Maui thirty years earlier. She was taken by the craftsmanship of the set and when she realized it had been made in Japan, it was a done deal. There was no doubt in her mind Ken would appreciate that fact and they have made a great deal of use of the entire set over the years.
The glass pitcher is also hand-blown and skillfully painted by Sun herself. When she turned forty five, she found herself needing something additional to do with her life, as her youngest child was old enough to take care of himself. She took a series of classes and learned to make glassware. Over the next twenty or so years she made many sets of glasses, cups, saucers and pitchers, giving them as presents to relatives and friends. But this pitcher is special to her. It is the first one she ever made and though it has its small flaws it remains her favorite.
She has also set out a modest collection of cookies which are the efforts of three of her granddaughters. It is rare that at least one grandchild does not spend a weekend with them. Most of their children live within a few blocks of their home so it’s very easy for them to visit. Family has always been of utmost important to Sun and Ken.
As for Ken, the term ‘family’ always extended to include the employees of Ken’s Climate Control and their families. Frequent picnics at various state parks and beaches have been one of the hallmarks of Ken’s Climate Control for more than sixty years. Though Ken is no longer active in the business his sons and daughters continue the traditions.
Gary is patiently watching Sun as she goes about putting together little snacks. He enjoys watching her and thinks it’s unlikely his Kapuna even realizes she has been humming to herself the entire time. Finally, she appears satisfied, then frowns and adds a few napkins to the cookie tray. Smiling, she looks at Gary.
“Please carry this tray with the iced tea and glasses. It is just too heavy for me. I will bring the cookies. Oh, I almost forgot the plates and napkins!”
Sun stops in her tracks, reverses direction and walks to a glass-fronted cabinet. From there she chooses the style of plate she desires and counts out three of them. She places them on the tray with the cookies, looks it over and smiles.
“That’s better.” Gary follows her out of the kitchen and into Ken’s study. Just as she is placing her tray on the table alongside Ken, the doorbell rings.
“That’s strange,” she says, “I am not expecting anyone. Gary, go ahead and pour the iced tea for us and I will answer the door.”
“Of course Kapuna.” Gary proceeds to pour a glass for his grandfather, one for his Kapuna and one for himself. They can hear Sun talking to someone at the door as a man’s voice is just barely audible.
Momentarily she returns, her face drawn into a tight frown. Her voice is shaky.
“Gary, please go to the kitchen and bring us two additional plates and glasses for our unexpected guests.”
“Sure, Kapuna. Who’s here?”
“Two representatives of the United States Navy.” Her voice trembles.
Ken doesn’t even flinch at the news.
Gary, however, is in an immediate panic. “What!” His voice is a loud whisper as he doesn’t want to be heard by the visitors. “What are we going to do?”
“Gary, right now you are going to do as your Kapuna requests.” Ken’s voice is calm, too calm to suit Gary, but he dare not defy his grandfather.
“When you return, I will introduce you to ou
r guests. You can then take your iced tea and wait for us in the hall. At present your Kapuna will proceed to escort them in and should we need anything we will summon you. And, Gary, please, stay calm. There is nothing any of us can do.”
“I prefer not to be here at all and will wait in the hall.” Gary slips out into the hallway, careful to stay out of sight, but not beyond earshot. He overhears Sun at the front door:
“Commander, Lieutenant, please follow me. My husband is in the den where we were just sitting down to some homemade cherry iced tea and cookies.” Sun bows and motions for Pastwa and Yamura to follow her.
As they enter the den, Pastwa and Yamura, hats in hand, find Ken sitting in his over-stuffed arm chair. Pastwa is a bit taken aback at how small, and old, he looks. Ken appears to him as if he were a Buddhist monk, not a retired war hero.
There are three chairs arranged in a semi-circle around a small table upon which sits the pitcher of iced tea, a tray of cookies and three small dishes.
“Ken, these people have come to see you.” She turns to face Pastwa. “I apologize, but could you repeat your names?”
Pastwa and Yamura smile. “Of course, Mrs. Kida. I am Lieutenant Commander Chris Pastwa and this is Lieutenant Karen Yamura. We’re assigned to Rear Admiral Roman Reardon at Pearl Harbor.” When Pastwa mentions ‘Pearl Harbor’ he looks directly into Ken’s eyes, seeking a response.” Not discerning any change in Ken’s demeanor he briefly glances around the room, noting the orderly, almost military manner in which it is maintained.
“Captain Kida, please pardon our intrusion, but we would very much like to have a conversation with you, that is, if you don’t mind.” Pastwa is doing his best to keep his voice calm and friendly. He can well imagine the fear that is likely running through Sun and wants to defuse any situation before it develops. It’s his intention to confirm what his gut has been telling him about Ken and desires to keep the meeting on a friendly basis.
“Captain, we shouldn’t be too long.” Yamura flashes a reassuring smile.
“Please sit down. Do you mind if Sun joins us?” Ken’s voice does not convey any of the intense anxiety he is experiencing.
“Of course not, we’d would very much like to include her in the conversation.” Pastwa thinks to himself that this couple appear very loyal to each other, a trait he admires.
As they take their seats they can’t help but notice Ken’s framed medals on the wall which are flanked by dozens of photographs of family and friends. Pastwa finds himself feeling a bit anxious, not unlike being in front of Reardon when there’s bad news. Ken appears to be so small and harmless, yet he knows the heroics this man has accomplished both against and on behalf of the United States.
Gary cautiously enters the den holding two glasses and a pair of plates. He stops just inside the doorway, unsure as to whether he should enter.
“I have the extra glasses and plates.” Gary walks over to the table and sets them down. He’s about to begin pouring iced tea when Ken interrupts.
“Gary, first let me introduce you.”
Gary pauses and turns to face Pastwa and Yamura. He has the look of a school boy in the principal’s office.
“Gary, this is Lieutenant Commander Pastwa.” Pastwa stands and extends his right hand. Gary reaches out and exchanges a firm handshake.
“Good strong grip, Gary. I appreciate a man who knows how to shake hands.” Pastwa smiles and returns to his chair.
Pointing to Lieutenant Yamura, Ken continues, “This is Lieutenant Yamura. From her name I would gather she is likely Japanese/American?”
Yamura rises and extends her right hand. “Your grandfather is correct, I am third generation. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Gary’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“Gary has been accepted into your ‘Annapolis’ for the fall semester, so naturally we are quite proud of him.” Ken is beaming and his pride is obvious.
“That’s quite the accomplishment, congratulations!” Pastwa replies.
“That’s right, you should be quite pleased with yourself,” adds Yamura.
“Gary, please, if you don’t mind I would like you to wait for us in the living room,” says Ken.
“Yes grandfather. If you need anything just call.” Gary turns to leave, but pauses when Yamura interrupts.
“Gary, perhaps we’ll run into each other in the future. You never know, you could find yourself assigned to Pearl in a few years.” Yamura smiles, her voice and demeanor clearly friendly, which does help him calm down a little.
“Yes, Lieutenant, you never know what might happen.” Gary leaves the room, quietly closing the doors behind him resulting in a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Yamura takes a sip of the tea and breaks the ice.
“Why, Mrs. Kida, this is absolutely excellent. Do you grow your own cherries?” Yamura smiles as she looks directly into Sun’s eyes.
“Thank you Lieutenant,” replies a blushing Sun. “We have several cherry trees. In fact, my husband has always insisted we have cherry trees. They create particularly beautiful blossoms and they happen to be in full bloom right now.”
Pastwa clears his throat and turns to Sun. “I agree with Lieutenant Yamura. This is the best cherry iced tea I have experienced, thank you.”
Pastwa turns to face Ken. “Captain, Sir, can I assume you have been following the lead story of the Honolulu newspaper these last few days?”
Ken doesn’t flinch. “Ah, yes, a most interesting story indeed. Quite remarkable and if true I think it would make a great script for a Hollywood movie.” Ken answers in a matter of fact manner, providing no clue as to how nervous he is.
Pastwa attempts to convey the appearance he is comfortable and calm when he is actually quite the opposite. Since discovering Ken’s complete background he’s been seriously torn over what to do; his duty to the Navy or what he believes to be his moral duty.
“Sir, Lieutenant Yamura and I have been engaged in a great deal of research based upon the contents of a ship’s logbook we recovered from the grave. The log I refer to is the same one being reprinted in the paper.”
Ken appears interested, but not surprised.
“Really? I fail to understand what any of that would have to do with me.”
Yamura and Pastwa quickly exchange uncomfortable glances as Ken is not making this any easier.
“Sir, forgive me, but I really must be blunt.” Pastwa’s voice is firm, but calm.
“Commander, please proceed. Tell us what it is that has brought you so far from Pearl Harbor tonight.” Ken’s voice is equally calm.
“Lieutenant Yamura and I have reason to believe, in fact we have very good reason to believe you are Lieutenant Commander Masaharu Yokoyama, a Japanese national, a 1939 graduate of the Imperial Japanese Naval Academy at Eta Jima and commander of the Imperial Japanese Navy midget submarine, I-16-tou.”
Pastwa and Yamura glance, alternately, first at Ken then at Sun, neither of whom flinches. If this were a poker game nobody would guess the elderly couple is holding a losing hand. After a few moments of silence Ken takes a deep breath. Instinctively Sun offers him a hand which he firmly clasps.
“Commander, Lieutenant, I have great respect for your research and congratulate you both on your thoroughness.” Ken pauses as he gathers his thoughts. While on the one hand, Ken knew this moment was coming, on the other hand, he had been praying he would be proven wrong.
“You are correct, of course. I am that man. I assume you likely have many questions for me, but am I correct in thinking you must first place me under arrest and take me to your headquarters?”
Pastwa and Yamura appear genuinely surprised.
“Sir, we do have questions, but please, rest assured we have seen your service records with the United States Army. We are keenly, if not outright painfully aware you have served this country very well and without reservation. Sir, we have not come here this evening to place you under arrest, so please place yourself at ease.” Pastwa t
urns to face Sun.
“And you, Mrs. Kida, we did not come here to take advantage of your gracious hospitality only to arrest your husband.”
“That’s correct, we have no intention of arresting anyone here,” adds Yamura. “But Captain, we are very curious about how you could transform yourself from foe to friend in a relatively short period of time. After all, it is well known that when Kazuo Sakamaki was captured on December 8th and became Prisoner of War Number One he was quite fanatical and appeared intent on committing suicide, yet you volunteered to enter the Nisei brigade.”
“Yes, we have both conjectured about that,” says Pastwa. “We don’t seek to take anything away from your service record, but to gain a better understanding of you is our goal. So please, provide us with your thoughts.”
Ken sits a little further back in his chair as Sun adjusts herself so she can continue to hold at least one of Ken’s hands.
“When I was first here, and by here I mean on Oahu, I heard rumors to the effect Hawaii was to be invaded. As you can imagine I had very little knowledge with respect to the overall scope of the planned attack on Pearl Harbor so I considered the rumors to be plausible. My initial thinking was that failing to obtain transport to the I-16, I would need to stay undercover for only a short period after which my then-countrymen would storm ashore and I would be reunited with my fleet.” Ken pauses to gather his thoughts. “Of course that never came to pass.” Ken pauses yet again as he struggles to maintain his composure.
“After I buried my engineer, it was arranged for me to live on a small pineapple plantation owned by an elderly Japanese couple. Life on the plantation was very simple and straight-forward. The work I was assigned was mostly office in nature, but I had the opportunity to interact with the field workers when I made the daily rounds with the plantation’s owner. In that manner I witnessed, first hand, all the effort expended in running the plantation. I learned the names of all the employees, and, yes, they were all either Japanese Nationals or Nisei. Japanese was the language of first choice on the plantation so my practice of English was limited to private discussions with the owner and his wife, but I digress. If Gary was here he would confirm my tendency to carry my thoughts out on tangents, so please forgive me.”
Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 27