“Of course Captain.” Pastwa finds himself unconsciously leaning forward, keenly interested in what Ken has to say.
“I was describing plantation life. It was a simple life and wages were low, but I was impressed by how well everyone conducted themselves and the extent of their happiness and contentment, even though they did not have an Emperor for guidance. I was, quite frankly, perplexed and bewildered.”
Ken leans a little forward, as if for emphasis.
“Then one day the United States Army appeared with rifles and trucks and they took us all to an internment camp. They said they were protecting us, but all the machine guns and guard towers faced inwards, not out. It was clear that we were prisoners.” Ken pauses as he lets out a soft sigh.
“At first I thought surely everyone would rebel, but it soon became clear that almost everyone understood the reason why they were not being trusted by the American Army. Oh my goodness! Some of the people I met in the first internment camp had even been in the Hawaii National Guard and there they were; prisoners. Everyone had been forced to abandon their homes and businesses without notice so I felt the situation would be ripe to foster a rebellion, but I did not yet understand the strength of the backbone my fellow captives possessed. Nor would I risk exposing myself when I was of the belief nobody would follow me.”
“We were not being treated all that unkindly, but we could not leave the compound. There were some guards who were openly hostile and prejudiced, but they never exhibited that behavior if an officer was around. I took that to mean prejudicial treatment was not actively sanctioned. All in all, it was not a completely terrible life in the camp, but it was most certainly a prison camp.”
Ken pauses long enough to release Sun’s hand and take a long drink of tea. He retakes her hand and gets himself ready to continue.
“After a little time passed, they moved us to California. The boat ride was extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. The conditions on board were near-barbaric; the food was scarce and barely edible and medical attention was non-existent. Some people died and after about three days at sea I calculated a manner in which we could take over the ship so I could sail all of us to Japanese waters. However, each time I carefully attempted to open the topic of mutiny, I was met with stiff resistance. I was consistently advised to be patient and eventually things would get better.”
“The conditions in California were much better, though the facilities were basically makeshift and temporary in nature. There were classes and various educational and social activities and I was learning the history of the United States, only it was not under the color of Japanese National dictum. And there were missionaries present who allowed me to familiarize myself with the concept of Christianity which seemed to convey a belief in love for man by his fellow man, not unlike Buddhism. Slowly my views softened and I came to formulate both an understanding and an appreciation for my fellow internees. And, of course, I was expecting to spend the rest of the war, perhaps even beyond, in captivity. However, one day the Army passed out questionnaires directed at all Nisei men of a certain age. After significant meditation and calling upon my ancestors for guidance, I completed the form and returned it.”
“To win admission to the Naval Academy I had to beat out ninety five percent of the candidates, so it was my opinion there was no way the United States Army would reject me.” Ken pauses as he looks from Pastwa to Yamura. “I can see from the expressions on your faces that you are perplexed at my application.” Ken resituates himself, smiles at Sun and continues.
“I considered myself a Samurai and, of course, had studied the way of the Samurai and conducted my life accordingly. My Father, his father and his father before that, and so on, were Samurai. Here I was, thousands of miles removed from the war in which I had been engaged and had no cause of my own for which to fight any longer. I was a Samurai relieved of his Master, so I acted as a proper Samurai and ‘borrowed the battlefield.’ Literally, I borrowed the cause of the United States and was under the impression that Germany and Italy would be my new enemies. Except, to my great shock and not without some dismay, the army chose not to send me to Europe.”
Ken pauses as he again looks at Pastwa and Yamura, both of whom are clearly taking in all he has to say and neither of whom, in Ken’s opinion, appears to be experiencing disbelief.
“As you probably know it was my language skills that caught the attention of Army Intelligence. In particular, I was noticed by an officer in the India-Burma-China theatre. So I found myself taking a very long trip to a very difficult arena in which to fight a war.” Ken pauses long enough to indulge in another sip of his tea.
“There were very bad living conditions in Burma. Infestations of biting insects and the diseases they brought with them were common among all of us. In fact I still carry the Malaria bug within my body. However, I felt very useful. Sometimes I would interrogate Japanese prisoners of war, but most of the time I was translating conversations between English speaking officers and Chinese officers. I was quite happy in my role with the United States Army and for the most part had been stationed to the rear of the front lines.”
“I am sure you are aware that in the United States Army the officers treat the rank-and-file as if they are human beings which is very unlike the Japanese army at the time. So, yes, I felt good to be with them and was proud to have been made a Sergeant. I was becoming ‘Americanized,’ as they say; perhaps you might call me an American Samurai.” Ken allows himself a small smile at his self-description.
“Despite papers that state I am Nisei and my service in two wars, I have never cast a vote in any election here. It is one thing to put my life on the line for this country, my adopted homeland, but I do not have the right to pretend I could vote, so I have never done so.”
“Following the Korean War I was able to bring Sun to Oahu and we were married without delay. We have been blessed with eight wonderful children, all of them born here. When Sun passed her citizenship examination and was sworn in at the Honolulu Courthouse we celebrated with a large luau, complete with traditional American fireworks. It was a great moment for both of us.”
Ken laughs and clasps both of Sun’s hands into his own.
“It was as if it were the fourth of July that night!” Ken pauses and turns more serious.
“I always knew that one day the body of my friend would be found. He was an excellent engineer, sailor, loyal friend and I still miss him. As you know, it was a torpedo I fired that sank your Oklahoma and to this day I am haunted by the memory of watching sailors desperately scrambling for their lives as they sought to stay above water while she rolled over.” An uncomfortable silence momentarily fills the room.
“Oh, forgive me.” Sun, noticing Ken’s fighting back tears suddenly releases his hand and seeks to lighten the tone. “Can I offer you some of these delicious cookies, or perhaps some cake?” Yamura smiles in response to the offer.
“Why that’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary. We really need to be leaving soon, Mrs. Kida.”
“Yes, Karen’s quite right. We have an appointment with an Admiral and we very well can’t leave an Admiral waiting, can we Captain?” Pastwa smiles as he looks towards Ken.
“Of course not, Commander. It is bad form to make your commanding officer wait.”
“There is one other thing,” injects Yamura, “speaking of Admirals, did you ever have occasion to meet Admiral Yamamoto?”
At the mention of Admiral Yamamoto, Ken perks up and smiles broadly.
“Yes, indeed. Admiral Yamamoto summoned us to his flagship, the Nagato. He gave a speech and then invited us all to dinner where he made many toasts and honored us with his story telling. He was very interested in each of us and knew our names, which very much impressed me and made it very clear he expected to host us again after completing our mission. I was humbled and proud to have met such a great naval officer. Indeed, in my opinion he was also a modest and most compassionate man.”
Meeting someone who
actually spoke with Admiral Yamamoto is quite a thrill for her, in part because she had made Yamamoto the subject of one of her theory papers back at the Academy.
“Thank you for that Sir. I’ve read a great deal about him and am of the opinion it was lucky for us Japan only had one like him.”
Pastwa stands, followed by Yamura.
“Sir, we thank you very much for your hospitality but we really must be going.” Pastwa turns to face Sun. “And Mrs. Kida I apologize for not having the time to sample what I am certain is your excellent baking.”
Sun smiles, but doesn’t say a word. She’s not quite sure what’s happening and believes it’s probably best to simply say nothing.
“Perhaps I will be seeing you again soon?” Ken asks.
“No Sir, that’s not very likely.” Pastwa retrieves his hat from a side table, picks up Yamura’s and hands it to her. “We must be off now. Again, Mrs. Kida, thank you for your generous hospitality.”
Pastwa, followed by Yamura, offer their salute to Ken. Surprised, he returns the salutes and looks towards the French doors where Gary is lingering.
“Gary, please escort our honorable guests to the front door.”
“Yes grandfather, no problem.”
Ken and Sun smile as they watch Gary escort them towards the front entry. In a few moments they overhear Gary bidding them goodbye, followed by the ‘clunk’ of the front door being pushed closed. Gary comes running into the study, appearing confused and scared.
“What the heck just happened here? Are they coming back? Are you under arrest?”
“Calm down. I don’t know the answers to your questions. However, they appear to be very honorable officers and they did state it is unlikely I will see them again.” Ken takes a deep breath, pulls Sun’s hands into his own and says, “We shall see what we shall see.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
A RETRACTION
Seated at three chairs lined left to right and directly facing Editor-in-Chief James Mori’s very large teakwood desk are Pastwa, Reardon and Yamura. Standing behind Pastwa is Clarke, who notices Mori’s wall clock is slow as it indicates it’s only 8 a.m., while Clarke’s watch clearly indicates it is actually five minutes later. He resists the instinct to adjust the clock. Two Shore Patrol Sergeants are blocking the doorway from any potential intruders.
Mori is sitting rather uncomfortably in his leather chair and Lani Gale is sitting on a folding chair next to him. She’s suspicious of the reason for calling such an early meeting and is of the opinion the Navy is about to try and muscle them into backing down from their search for Yokoyama. Gale is braced for a fight.
Reardon, wearing every medal and ribbon ever accorded him is dressed to impress. He also made certain Pastwa, Yamura, and even Clarke, are similarly attired. He pulls his chair slightly closer to the desk and leans towards Mori.
“Now Jim, I have known you a long time, but stealing classified documents and printing them along with the results of what was, at the time, an incomplete investigation is some mighty serious business!”
“Roman, let me…” Mori starts to speak, but Reardon cuts him off.
“Don’t even think about playing the friendship card with me Jim. If you’d simply taken a moment to call me and seek confirmation I would have made it clear you were toying with the commission of felonious and traitorous acts; I think the more accurate term may be sedition. To make matters worse, our tests results weren’t even conclusive yet.” Reardon pauses to let the words sink in. He glances at Gale, who’s beginning to appear a little uneasy.
“Guess what Jim? The lab results are in now!” He tosses a large manila envelope at Mori who catches it and lays it on his desk without opening it.
“This whole thing is a hoax and if I learn you’ve been a part of it, may heaven help you! I promise all hell and a whole lot more will come down upon your head and you’ll be shoveling wet shit for the next ten years!” Reardon’s veins are starting to protrude along either temple and his face is turning deep red as he motions to Yamura, who takes his cue:
“When my tests came back it was apparent the materials used in making the so-called ‘ship’s log’ were not available before 1972 and there was a chemical present on the metal case that would have the effect of speeding along the decaying process. In short, somebody put this together to look as if it had been buried there since 1941.”
“Thank you Lieutenant. And Jim, there’s still the matter of the body we recovered.” Reardon’s tone is menacing.
“Obviously some poor soul was murdered. We don’t know who, but since the body was not discovered on U. S. Government property we are obliged to turn the entire matter over to the local homicide squad.”
Reardon leans forward in his chair for additional emphasis.
“So you should be expecting a visit from Honolulu homicide soon.”
Reardon adjusts himself to face Gale. “And that brings me to the matter of charges against you and your newspaper.” Reardon angles himself so he can stare directly at a very pale-faced Gale. Mori looks to be on the brink of losing his composure, along with last night’s dinner.
“Wait a minute, please, Roman,” implores Mori, “we had no idea it was all a big fake.”
“Just how does that mitigate anything Jim? You and Gale pilfered ‘Top Secret’ documents and then you finished off your illegal, seditious and immoral activities by publishing them!”
“Roman, wait, what if we were to publish a complete retraction tomorrow? Full front page! We admit we were fooled and that we were set up by some clever people who intended to perpetrate a hoax.” Mori is pleading to the best of his ability.
Reardon sits back as he considers Mori’s proposition. Pastwa, Yamura and Clarke remain silent and without facial expression. Reardon, a hint of a glimmer in his eyes, leans forward ever so slightly and lowers his voice.
“I assume ‘Lois Lane’ here would write the retraction, with a by-line of course.”
Mori is obviously relieved.
“Of course, Admiral.” Mori turns to Gale. “Get on it! I want a draft in one hour! Oh, and you’ll be getting assigned to a nice cozy inner cubicle later this afternoon, so pack your stuff! Any questions Lani?”
“No Sir.” Gale mumbles her reply and squeezes herself between the two SP’s on her way out.
Reardon stands, followed by Pastwa and Yamura.
“Well that should do it. And listen Jim, don’t let this happen again.”
The four of them leave together and are in an elevator on their way to the first floor.
“Lieutenant Yamura.” Yamura’s body goes stiff. “I did some probing and discovered you placed an order to copy and bind your translation. The work order was pretty clear, you requested one copy be made and that both sets, the original and the photocopy be bound and marked as ‘Top Secret-Eyes Only, One of Two and Two of Two.’ However, it fell into the hands of a seaman who took it upon himself to make an extra copy, which, I assume, he proceeded to sell to Miss Gale.”
“We have suspected as much, Sir.” She quietly replies, expecting to be chastised, or worse.
“Well, you won’t be seeing him around the base anytime soon. He’s been posted to one of our weather stations in the Arctic Circle for a six month tour and that’s just his warm-up. Afterwards he gets eight months down at McMurdo Station, Antarctica.” Reardon startles the three of them as he suddenly laughs out loud.
“I visited one of those bases once upon a time. Miserable, simply miserable! Much worse than the brig could ever be.” The bell rings signaling their arrival on the first floor and Reardon leads the procession through the front doors and onto the broad sidewalk outside. At the same moment detectives Kane and Ooha are exiting their patrol car parked nearby. They notice the uniformed naval officers and pause before Kane chides Ooha, “Don’t not waste any time. Let’s just get in and get out.”
Pastwa, Yamura and Clarke pause outside the entry to salute, assuming the Admiral is leaving. He returns the salute and just
as they are about to turn to leave themselves, he calls out to them.
“Oh, almost forgot.” The three of them freeze. Thoughts run through their minds of working in the Arctic themselves for misrepresenting their findings to him. They each wonder how Reardon could have learned they faked the results.
“I just want to say I like the way you managed to tie up all the loose ends and clean up that mess. All three of you have twenty one day passes sitting on your desks, so I’ll see you then.” Reardon turns and walks over to a black Lincoln Town Car waiting for him. His driver is already pulling the rear door open as the three of them quickly make their way up the street.
“Damn Karen, I thought he was about to come down on us. Clarke, you didn’t need to run that risk, but we do appreciate your help,” says Pastwa.
“Thank you Sir. If you two don’t need me, I’d like to get myself on a plane to Maui.” Clarke’s smile is so big it’s as if he was walking into a donut shop.
“Have fun!” Yamura calls out as they watch him jump on “The Bus” bound for Pearl Harbor.
“Well Karen, we have twenty one days and my parent’s beach house over in Princeville is just sitting there empty.” She discerns a twinkle in his eye and knows he has a plan. “My boat’s moored in Honolulu Harbor so how about we sail over to Kauai today?”
Yamura smiles and nuzzles up a little closer.
“Sounds perfect to me. How about giving me an hour or so before picking me up?”
“Done deal. I’ll see you then.” He gives her a gentle kiss on the lips and watches as she hails a cab and disappears into traffic.
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