A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  The sun had just settled in the west as they passed through Manchester on their way north. It was just as well that Terry had given up and fallen asleep. Tears filled Lisa’s eyes and rolled down over her cheeks, dropping onto her new green blazer. For the past nine years of her life, tears had frequently flowed. Wiping her eyes so that she could see the road clearly, Lisa recalled events that led to one of the most painful experiences of her life. It had all started when she left the hospital ship at Pearl Harbor.

  June Schenk’s husband had met the hospital ship as it docked at Pearl Harbor Navy Base, prepared to take her home to Pennsylvania. The former prisoners were held over for another week while being interviewed by navy and army intelligence officers and historians. All were given government vouchers to purchase new clothing and personal items. They were also tested and extensively evaluated to be certain that all that medical science could do for them was carried out. On the trip from Luzon to Pearl, the former prisoners had gained an average of twenty pounds each.

  Doctor Day insisted on being Lisa’s physician. When June and her husband were ready to leave Hawaii for the homeland, Doctor Day signed Lisa’s release so that she could accompany them to the states. Lisa could still hear his kind and encouraging words.

  “Good luck, Lisa Carter. Hold your head up high and never let anyone judge you by the child you carry. Don’t ever let anyone judge you who has never been tested to the degree you and your fellow prisoners have endured for the past three years. I’ve given you my address in Boston. I hope you’ll look me up when this ugly war is over. Go home now, dear lady, and put your life in order.” He embraced her like a father would a daughter and wished her a “Bon Voyage.”

  Lisa traveled to Philadelphia with June and her husband. It was a tearful parting at the train station. The two women had been inseparable during their incarceration, and Lisa soundly believed that she owed her life to the gentle and resourceful matriarch. An hour after she waved good-bye to June and her husband, Lisa boarded a train bound for Boston. The army headquarters at Pearl Harbor had given her Jeff’s address and location. The army also told her that they would send a special communication to Jeff’s commanding officer requesting that Jeff be sent home on a short furlough. They had forwarded her reservation itinerary to his command post. She was excited about seeing him. Her first visit with him in Boston was an experience she still could not believe. The hurt still lingered.

  Jeff had been promoted to captain and was busy training his company for combat. He had been alerted about the time her train would arrive in Boston. It pulled in at six o’clock in the morning. Jeff made sure to be there when the train rolled to a stop. He instantly recognized Lisa as she stepped down from the train. Her auburn hair was cut short just below the ears, the way she had worn it when they were going to school. This meeting, the first in four years, was the fulfillment of all their dreams and prayers. They embraced with an intensity reserved only for those who have teetered on the edge of life’s volcano and survived.

  Jeff had borrowed a friend’s automobile, a 1941 Buick sedan, and had parked it close to the station. He released her and told her that he had a vehicle. Once outside, he pointed to the car and opened the passenger door for her. He was like a little kid on his first date. His Lisa was alive and with him. He could hardly believe his good fortune. Now, anything was possible! He mentioned that he had only a twenty-four hour pass and limited coupons to purchase gasoline, so they decided to go to a nearby restaurant where it was quiet, spending hours reminiscing over steaks and coffee. Late in the afternoon, they ended up at a park near the Boston Shell beside the Charles River. They talked about changes back home. Lisa’s parents had caught pneumonia and passed away a few months apart. Lisa told him that her sister Angeline lived in the old house with her husband, Harry Lender. He had been medically discharged from the navy when he lost a leg on a destroyer that was torpedoed in the North Atlantic early in the war.

  Lisa held back from telling Jeff about her condition until the last few hours of his leave time. She did not want to spoil the rapture of the moment. The scene that took place was etched in her memory.

  “Jeff, I have something important to tell you,” Lisa began in a tremulous voice.

  “What is it, Lisa?” Jeff asked, perplexed at her somber tone.

  “On the last day at the Japanese prison camp, I was raped by a Japanese soldier…” Lisa stopped to catch her breath and searched for the right words to lessen the impact of the message. “As a result of that attack upon me, I’m pregnant!”

  “Pregnant with a Jap kid?” he cried incredulously.

  “Yes, Jeff… a Japanese…” Lisa heard the tone of his response and began to cry, afraid that she was going to pass out. She had trouble breathing and gasped for air. Jeff pulled away from her as if she were a leper. His revulsion horrified her.

  “I can’t believe that a man can impregnate a woman if she doesn’t want it,” he cried, disbelieving her story.

  Her world was crumbling around her. Jeff was like a stranger! The look in his eyes made her feel dirty and cheap. “I could not help it, Jeff,” she talked fast to defend herself, frightened of what was taking place. Jeff had changed! She was stronger than ever since her release from the compound but she was still relatively fragile. Several times she reached out to Jeff for physical support and was rejected each time. She felt weak and the fear of fainting and falling to the ground troubled her. Lisa was completely unprepared for his vitriolic response to her situation. She clung to a nearby tree for support and faced Jeff.

  “What are you going to do about it, Lisa?” he demanded in a high pitched voice. “You can’t have the baby. We’re at war with Japan. It’s unthinkable.”

  “It’s unthinkable… yes… but it’s a fact, Jeff,” she pleaded for understanding and begged him for some comfort, a touch, a kind word, anything to stop feeling dirty and immoral and cheap. She never dreamed that her Jeff could abandon her so abruptly and so ruthlessly. “I’m not to blame, Jeff. You have to understand what it was like…”

  “Are you going to keep the baby?”

  “Yes, I’ve decided to have the baby. I had hoped that you would support me in that decision,” she anxiously cried.

  There was a long pause. Jeff avoided eye contact with her and spoke in a softer tone. “Do you realize what you’re asking me to do? I don’t think I could ever condone your decision to keep the baby. Under the circumstances, I think it’s insane and unfair to you, me, and the child.”

  “Maybe I was wrong, but I expected you to support me, Jeff. I need your acceptance so badly. You’ll never know how much I’ve agonized over the decision. I won’t change my mind. Sure, I’ve thought of all the problems it could cause. I was hoping that our love for each other would be strong enough to overcome any obstacle,” she pleaded one more time.

  “It is, Lisa. I’ve been true to your memory and I’d do anything… but accepting a Japanese baby… I, I just can’t believe you’d ask such a thing of me.”

  “Well, Jeff,” cried Lisa, desperately drawing from her last vestige of strength. She presented an ultimatum to him. “Where do we go from here? It’s now or never, and it’s up to you, Jeff.”

  He was unapologetic. “I can’t imagine being with you, while you’re pregnant with someone else’s child. Don’t you know what you’ve done to us…?”

  Jeff never finished the sentence. Lisa, consumed by rage and pain, slapped him hard across the face. “How dare you blame me for my condition, how dare you? I expected more than this from you, Jeff. The memory of our love for each other gave me courage over the years when it was a rare virtue.”

  Lisa turned from him and ran hysterically across the park, anxious to get away from the stranger that Jeff had become. In the distance she could hear Jeff calling to her. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m sorry, Lisa…” He stood his ground watching Lisa run away from him without any attempt to stop her. A lifetime of dreams had just been obliterated!

  Lisa pulled the fait
hful Studebaker to the side of the road to wipe her eyes. It was a traumatic experience that still hurt. That reunion with Jeff five years before had shattered her sense of trust and belief in close friends. She never saw Jeff again. Something had changed him, and the agony she felt still lingered. It was difficult for her to accept that she was alone.

  Terry was sleeping on the seat with his feet resting on her lap. She brushed a few loose strands of hair from his face and patted him on the cheek. She loved him more than she could ever say, possibly because a few in the world hated him for what he looked like. Occasionally, when she was confronted with negative reactions, the thought would quickly run through her mind that maybe she had made a mistake bringing him into the world. Fortunately, those kind of thoughts never lasted too long. Just thinking about them angered her.

  Lisa pulled back onto the highway remembering all that had happened to her since she returned home from the war. She had lost Jeff, a large part of her world, but she had gained a staunch supporter and a personal friend in Doctor Day and his wife, Erin. Terry was born October 10, 1945, two months after the war. Doctor Day had been discharged from the navy and was continuing his practice in Boston at the Mass General Hospital. When her time was close, he strongly urged Lisa to come to Boston so that he could deliver the baby. She was relieved to oblige. The kind doctor was a man of his word. He and Erin became Terry’s Godfather and Godmother.

  That was the beginning of a friendship that was instrumental in guiding Lisa through parenthood without a husband. She taught the fifth grade at Twin Mountains Elementary School during weekdays. One weekend, when Lisa came to Boston with Terry for a checkup, Erin Day had arranged an audition for Lisa with the Pops Orchestra. Erin was an enthusiastic supporter of the orchestra and knew Arthur Fiedler, the conductor, personally. Erin and the doctor offered to babysit Terry while she kept the appointment for the audition.

  Fiedler was impressed with Lisa’s talent. She lacked the touch of professional discipline, but she made up for that deficiency by her unique interpretation of the musical selections. To many in the hall during that audition, it was as if they were hearing the music for the first time. It had a deep fresh appeal that touched emotions and feelings. They loved her simple style without frills. “Music with heart,” was the way Fiedler had described it.

  Soon, Lisa became a regular performer and soloed frequently. She was especially adept at accompanying singers and soloing violinists. Her modest and serious demeanor quickly earned the affection and respect of all of the orchestra members. She was a good team player.

  Life had been difficult those first years after the war. She recalled being in a constant state of exhaustion, with bills adding up to more than her teaching salary could pay. As soon as she accepted the weekend positions playing with the Pops, her financial worries lessened. During the summer months, she stayed in Boston so that she could participate in the performances at the Shell beside the Charles River. The Fourth of July performances were her favorites.

  Her sister Angeline attended every performance and insisted on looking after Terry during rehearsals and evening performances. Terry enjoyed the experience. With each passing year the boy absorbed the sights and sounds of the people of Boston celebrating their country’s birthday. On Terry’s fourth birthday, he was old enough to understand the role his mother had with the orchestra. He was proud of her. During the 1949 Fourth of July performance, Terry sat in front of the Shell with his Aunt Angeline. He saw his mother wave several times to him. He beamed all over, and returned her wave.

  When Lisa and Terry arrived home in Twin Mountains, she put Terry to bed first thing and then checked her mail. There was a letter addressed to her from a Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Wright. She used a knife to open the envelope and sat quietly to read the letter.

  June 10, 1950

  Dear Miss Carter,

  I’m not sure if you remember me or not. I was in Boston for a quick visit and attended a Boston Pops concert, a favorite of mine. I haven’t seen you since we said good-bye at Pearl Harbor on the hospital ship. That night in Boston the piano player looked familiar to me. And when you played one of your solo selections, I knew that it was you.

  Your playing is still a moving musical experience. Congratulations are in order. Now, the rest of the world can enjoy your special gift. I salute your accomplishments and am glad that you appear to be doing well. I wanted to stop by and say “hello,” at the end of the concert, but duty called… I had a plane to catch and did not have time.

  I remember that you had decided to carry your child. At the time, I was too involved with my own injuries to think about anything else. I want you to know how proud I was of you. I understood what a difficult decision you had to make. It was a privilege to escort you and your companions out of the Luzon jungle to civilization and freedom.

  As for me, I’ve made a complete recovery from my wounds. I fanatically fought the advice of several doctors who wanted to amputate my leg. The Lord was with me. It finally healed and with therapy, I’m as strong as ever.

  My mother and my daughter, Faith, accompanied me to the pops concert. She’s been playing the piano since she was four, and she’s now nine years old. She was mesmerized by your playing and remarked several times during the performance how powerful it was for her. Now, she’s an enthusiastic fan of yours.

  I’m currently attached to army intelligence based in Japan at MacArthur’s headquarters. I had kept your old address and hope this note finds you well and happy. Again, congratulations.

  Best Wishes

  Jonathon Wright,

  Lt. Col., USA

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tokyo, Japan ─ June 24, 1950

  Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Wright sat in the office of the Army Intelligence Evaluation Division, Tokyo, Japan, reviewing intelligent data from sources all over the world. He had read and reread the material in their files on the North Korean army. Something was up, but no one could connect the dots to predict what, when, or where. He wiped his eyes and leaned back in his chair. For hours he had tried to glean some clue that others had overlooked. His inability to predict explosive events angered him. He ceremoniously cleaned his pipe of cold ashes and filled it with Half and Half pipe tobacco. The first puff from a freshly lit pipe full of tobacco was always the best, and he closed his tired eyes to savor the moment.

  Colonel Henry Lee walked into the office and took a seat at a desk facing Jonathon. Lee was an American-Japanese officer with a short compact build and a round face with laughing eyes. His good humor and mild disposition masked a very determined man who drove himself relentlessly. He was a graduate of the University of Hawaii with a degree in law. He and Jonathon had become close friends. Lee looked at the haggard lines around Jonathon’s eyes and asked, “Any luck, Jon?”

  “None, Colonel,” Jonathon answered, carefully tamping his pipe so as to not let any of the live sparks land on his uniform. He already had several pairs of pants with burn holes. “Something is taking place, but I have to agree with the rest of you, I don’t know what it is or if it’s significant.”

  “Well, we can’t produce miracles unless we have the information,” sighed Lee, searching his briefcase for a notepad, which he dropped on his desk. “Do you remember the conversation we had a while ago about that prison commander on Luzon?”

  Jonathon looked up at Lee, remembering how it had been five years ago. “Yes, he was a major, I believe. Like I told you, I hauled him off an American woman and forcibly restrained him. The women inmates eventually killed him. I can still see his eyes just before he died. His haunting look has stayed with me. I’ve often wondered what kind of person he was. Have you been able to locate any information about his family?”

  “A couple of weeks ago, after our conversation, I started an investigation to determine what I could. Accurate Japanese military records are not easy to come by, but I’ve got something. The commandant was Major Toshio Taniguchi, a career army officer who did well in the pre-war Japanese
army. He was a demanding officer with a long record of violence and brutality. He occasionally beat his subordinates inflicting permanent deformities on a few. In that respect he fit in well as one of the bright young officers.”

  “I can believe that of him,” replied Jonathon, puffing his pipe.

  “His father is Horio Taniguchi, a renowned violinist in Japan. His address is on this pad,” said Lee, passing the notepad to Jonathon.

  “Thanks, Colonel. I appreciate the information you’ve dug up. I wonder if I’m making a mistake opening a can of worms capable of inflicting more pain. Old wounds can still hurt, I know that from experience,” mused Jonathon.

  “That all depends on how badly you want to put that period of your life to rest, Jon. Since you’re already in Japan, it might not hurt to pay the man a visit. The short bio sketches of him stated that he spoke some English and had visited the United States in the early thirties.”

  “You may be right, Colonel,” replied Jonathon, taking the sheet of paper from the pad and placing it in his tunic pocket. “I’m going to turn in for the night. If I look at one more page, I’ll scream. I’ll see you in the morning, Colonel.”

  “Take care of yourself, Jon,” said Lee again, looking at the weary lines under his eyes. “I wish we had more to offer General MacArthur on his daily briefing tomorrow. Why don’t you take a couple of days off? You should have taken a longer leave last month. I don’t know how you’ve been able to function as well as you have. If you need more time off just say the word.”