A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  “I appreciate your concern, Lee. It’s friends like you that have helped a lot. I don’t need more leave time just now, but a couple of days off would be fine,” Jonathon replied, collecting his hat from the valet. “Good luck, Lee.”

  The air was warm and the skies above Tokyo were filled with stars glowing in the dark void. The half moon was hanging in the eastern sky on a base of cumulous clouds. Jonathon breathed easier. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. The officer’s club stayed open twenty-four hours a day offering good food and drink. He entered the club and served himself a hearty breakfast of pancakes, sausage, and lots of coffee. He ate alone near a window watching the sun climb over the skeleton-like remains of bombed out buildings within the city.

  Thoughts of his wife Hope and daughter Faith filled his heart and consciousness as soon as he left the intense atmosphere of the intelligence office. At work, he was able to apply himself to the task at hand. Once it was completed, his mind wandered to the loss he still mourned. Memories were priceless and painful. The club was beginning to fill with officers preparing for early posts. He saw an old friend of many years, Major Jim O’Hare, at the buffet line. Jim spotted him and took a seat at the table with his tray.

  “You look beat, Jon,” surmised Jim, a small wiry Irishman with flashing eyes. He went through life rarely taking anything too seriously, especially himself.

  “It’s been a rough night, Jim,” conceded Jonathon.

  “I’m glad I ran into you, Jon. I’ve got a staff conference in half an hour. After that I’ll be on my way to the airport for a flight to Okinawa. I’ve got a parked Jeep outside. Would you turn it into motor pool for me?”

  “Sure, I’ll be glad to, Jim,” answered Jonathon, suddenly smiling. “Lee just told me to take a few days off. How about if I take your Jeep for a couple of days? I’ve got a few errands to run in Tokyo.”

  “No problem. The Jeep is permanently assigned to my military police battalion. Use it as long as you want. I’ll be in Okinawa several days. You could use some time. Your friends worry about you,” Jim said sincerely. “The tank is full of fuel. Here are the keys.”

  “Thanks,” said Jonathon, preparing to leave. “I’ll see you around, Jim. Your Jeep has helped me make up my mind about something.”

  Jonathon left the club feeling better. He had decided to pay Mr. Taniguchi a visit! He drove through a main thoroughfare heading southwest out of the city. The picture-card panorama of Fujiyama rose from the relatively flat coastal plains to dominate the horizon. Solid and majestic Fujiyama loomed above the ash ruins of metropolitan Tokyo and its suburbs, like the fabulous Phoenix. Legend has it that the bird burns itself on a pyre of aromatic gum wood every five hundred years and rises from the ashes in renewed vigor and beauty.

  Tokyo had been destroyed several times and always rose from the ruins in greater splendor. As early as 1923, earthquakes and fires destroyed the city killing over 150,000 people. Now the recently bombed ruins were well on their way to rising again. Jonathon marveled at the tenacity and industriousness of the people. New homes were being constructed and multilevel office buildings were beginning to dot the barren landscape of broken bricks and mortar.

  Jonathon drove the Jeep to his quarters, where he showered and went to bed. He was exhausted. The minute his head touched the pillow his mind was filled with memories of Hope. Tears still came easy. Even now, five years after her violent death, he could hear her voice and knew that she was still with him. Her death in a train wreck had changed his life. More than ever he needed her soft and gentle presence. She was the inspiration and motivation for everything he did. Every memory, echoes from the past, she had called them, included Hope. Now, he was going through life like a lost soul without a rudder.

  For a long time, he drank more than ever. It all started at Pearl Harbor during the final days of his physical therapy treatment involving his leg and arm injuries from the Philippines. Old friends were worried that his drinking would jeopardize his desire to stay in the army. One night after a heavy drinking session, he started a fight in the officer’s club and had to be restrained by friends. Two days later he woke up in the navy hospital, where he had been treated for minor bruises from the brawl he had initiated. Deeply afraid of losing a way of life that he needed to cling to for his own sanity, Jonathon vowed to go on the wagon. For three years he had not touched a drop.

  The devastating train wreck had taken place in Pennsylvania when Hope and Faith were traveling from Maine to California so that they could be with Jonathon while he was recuperating from his injuries. Hope was killed instantly when the passenger train was derailed.

  Faith had only minor lacerations to her arm and back. Jonathon was unable to leave the hospital at that time, so his mother took Faith back to Monson so that she could continue in the same school system and keep her old friends, which became most important to her after the tragic loss of her mother. Just before the war started, Jonathon and Hope had moved into an apartment in Monson. They agreed that an apartment was more suited to their needs at that time. He had anticipated they would be together soon at the military installation he would be assigned to. The war came and destroyed all their plans, so Faith and Hope remained at the apartment in Monson.

  Jonathon knew that it was not the best arrangement in the world for Faith, yet, he failed to do anything about it. Then came his period of drinking heavily. It helped him forget that he had a responsibility to his daughter. He went home to be with her as often as he could, and they had spent some good days together, but he always came away from the furloughs missing Hope more than ever. He considered resigning his commission and was assured by the army that as soon as his tour of duty in Japan was over, he would be transferred stateside to at least a two-year tour of duty at some New England university teaching in the Reserve Officer’s Training Corps (ROTC). Jonathon and Faith both looked forward to that time when they could be together for an extended period as a family.

  In every letter he received from Faith or his mother, Jonathon was informed of Faith’s aptitude for music, and the piano especially. Jonathon insisted that she continue with her individual lessons on a regular basis. When he did make it home, he made it a point to take Faith out to musical shows, concerts, and other musical events. She was thrilled with their visit to the Boston Pops where Jonathon recognized Lisa.

  Jonathon awoke midday from a restless sleep remembering that he had wheels in the form of the MP Jeep. An hour later, he was on the road heading southwest to the Tokyo address Lee had given him. It was several miles in the country far from the sprawling city limits. Miles of rice paddies and sugar cane fields dotted the area, taking up every square foot of land not used by roads or buildings. The land was intensely cultivated by the industrious farmers for maximum production of foodstuff for the large population.

  Mr. Horio Taniguchi’s address turned out to be a very modest home surrounded by tall trees and landscaped with hundreds of miniature pine trees in various sizes and shapes. Jonathon parked the Jeep off the street and removed the ignition key, unsure if he should continue, or if this was the right thing to do. His hesitancy had increased with every mile he drove. For some reason, he expected a different kind of home rather than the orderly and beautifully landscaped one before him. Ever since Lee had described the man to him his curiosity had been honed. Reluctantly, Jonathon followed the walkway as it meandered through a meticulously maintained garden. Admiring the beauty of the lush vegetation, Jonathon almost tripped over a man kneeling beside the pathway planting flowers.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” exclaimed Jonathon. His knowledge of Japanese was very limited, so he did not even try to converse in the native language. He had knocked one of the plants out of the man’s hand and exclaimed, “Did I hurt you?”

  The Japanese man was slender of frame and build with a small mustache and white hair. He was dressed in a gray robe, a traditional Japanese garment, especially for home wear. The man did not speak until he stood in front of Jonathon and l
ooked up at him. “No, you did not hurt me,” the elderly man answered in English. “May I help you?”

  Jonathon’s mind frantically searched for the right words to announce his intentions. “I was distracted by the beauty of your garden and did not see you kneeling beside the path. I came to see a Mister Horio Taniguchi.”

  “I am Horio Taniguchi,” he replied, observing the array of ribbons on Jonathon’s uniform.

  “Sir, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Wright. I came to speak to you about your son, Major Toshio Taniguchi,” Jonathon stated in a direct voice though he was a bundle of nerves. There was a reluctance on his part not to continue the conversation and he was frantically thinking of some way to gracefully leave the garden.

  “Are you troubled by something, Colonel?” observed Mr. Taniguchi. “Would my son, by chance, be the source of your discontent? It is no secret that he has shamed our family and has been the source of much sorrow to his mother and myself. Please, come into my garden where we can share a cup of tea and discuss what is bothering you.”

  Jonathon was unprepared for such courteous and gracious informality. Part of the reason for the trip was to see what kind of man the cruel commandant had for a father. Jonathon had no guilt about being the instrument of his death, but he did have a lingering wonder if there might have been more to the man than he and the women prisoners had witnessed.

  “I accept your offer of tea and hope that my visit does not rekindle hurtful memories,” conceded Jonathon.

  “How could such a conversation not be hurtful, Colonel?” Mr. Taniguchi gently placed the dropped flower in a vase of water and motioned for Jonathon to follow him. “Come, I have a pot of tea being kept hot on my brazier.”

  Jonathon followed the lively steps of the elderly gentleman as the narrow path wound around a small pool of water with a wooden veranda built over one edge of the pool. Overhead was a wooden arbor covered with wisteria vines. Lush purple blossoms hung from the arbor and lattice overhead. Around the edge of the pool, purple iris flowers were in full bloom. It was a beautiful secluded retreat where he felt at ease and surprisingly at peace. He had not anticipated this! The beauty and serenity of the setting was contrary to what he had expected to find. There was more to the frail elderly man pouring tea into two small cups, than he had imagined, although he was not sure what he did anticipate. The sharing of tea in a garden setting had spiritual connotations for the Japanese.

  “I’m feeling your discomfort, Colonel Wright. Perhaps both of us need to talk openly so that we can put the past in order,” stated Mr. Taniguchi, passing the tea cup to Jonathon with a respectful bow. “Were you present when my son was killed?”

  Jonathon sat at the low table opposite Mr. Taniguchi, and accepted the tea with a bow. “Yes.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I wounded him as he was assaulting a woman prisoner at the compound. His death came an hour later at the hands of the women inmates.” Jonathon paused, uncertain if he should continue to be so graphic. Mr. Taniguchi’s face was a study in stoicism, registering nothing Jonathon was able to discern. “I could have stopped the inmates, but I chose not to. I felt that justice had been well served by the deed. I saw a look on your son’s face when the end was near, that has haunted me for the past five years. I know that he was a monster and that each of us must be responsible for the choices we make. What I’m trying to say and am probably doing it very badly, Mister Taniguchi, is that I saw, for a fraction of a second, a look of remorse and regret in your son’s eyes. Was there more to the man that we did not see?”

  “My son was a complex person, Colonel. Thank you for being honest and not judgmental. He was our only child and his mother and I worshipped him.” Mr. Taniguchi slowly sipped his tea, and held his gaze at the pool of water as if he were studying his own reflection. “If you wish to understand my son, then you must first understand what Japan was like before the war.”

  “I’d like to hear what you have to say, sir.”

  With that, Mr. Taniguchi reviewed the recent history of Japan. The depression of the late 1920s and early thirties crippled the economic structure of many countries, including Japan and the United States. In Japan, the depressions fueled the rise of fanatical nationalistic militarism, which gained control of the government in the early thirties. Their expansion policies were responsible for World War II. The gains made in national wealth and culture over the past centuries were reversed and lost forever. Ultimately, all that remained of the Japanese state were the home islands. In 1937 war was declared against China. Four years later, war between the United States and Japan proved to be the final attempt in establishing a greater Asian conglomerate of nations. The militarists had gone too far and ended up destroying the nation they had pillaged and raped for fifteen years.

  Jonathon listened in silence as the scholarly elder concluded his monologue by saying: “The United States was not Japan’s greatest enemy. The fanatical militarists’ takeover of Japan destroyed two hundred years of Japanese culture.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mister Taniguchi continued with a sorrowful expression on his face. “My son was caught up in that movement and, like others, became intoxicated with the lust for power and domination. My wife and I had lost Toshio long before he died on Luzon. His mother was killed in a bomb raid early in 1945. Maybe we have a chance to find ourselves again. General MacArthur has done a magnificent job of building a foundation for that revolution to take place again.”

  Jonathon watched the tears form in Mister Taniguchi’s eyes. Their eyes met for a second, then Mister Taniguchi quickly turned away and was silent for a long time. Jonathon felt like an intruder. “I’m sorry, sir. I did not mean to intrude.”

  “What did you expect, Colonel?” Mister Taniguchi questioned, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. “If I had the power, I would have prevented the outrages he committed, but his mother and I were helpless… Now she has gone and he has gone and I’m alone to bear witness to our failed attempts. I loved and respected Toshio’s mother and am still mourning her loss. My son’s death has been a source of pain greater than that for his mother because I’m partially responsible for the evil he perpetrated…”

  “No, sir,” cried Jonathon. “He bears that burden alone.”

  “A father does not pick and choose. By bringing Toshio into this world, I failed to indoctrinate him with the values his mother and I shared. That is our failure, not his. You claim that he raped an American woman under his care?”

  “Yes, sir. I was a witness to that despicable deed. According to the inmates, it had become a daily routine after he took over the prison.”

  “Do you know the name of this woman prisoner?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jonathon answered.

  Mister Taniguchi looked around at his garden. His eyes appeared to be half closed, and his facial features were strained. He began to breathe hard. “Would it be possible for me to apologize to the woman for the wrongs of my son?”

  “I don’t know, Mister Taniguchi,” Jonathon replied nervously. He had not expected this turn of events. “I’m not at liberty to give you or anyone else her name. I witnessed her disgrace and cannot disclose her identity without her permission.”

  “I respect your position, Colonel. I’m familiar with the hatred for Japan that still exists in your country. We’re trying to build a better Japan. In time prejudices may fade away and our two countries might become friends again.”

  “I’d like to think that it’s possible, sir.”

  “I’ve been to the United States and was well treated. You are an industrious people much like the Japanese. Perhaps I might go to America one more time before I’m too old to atone for my son’s sins. It’s the least I should do,” concluded Mister Taniguchi with a deep sigh.

  Jonathon believed that the man was sincere in his desire to apologize for the atrocities of his son. “Sir, if you want, I promise to deliver any message you may wish to prepare for the American woman your son violated
. There may be others that she would know of, and I’m certain she would pass on your message.”

  “Your offer can hardly be refused, Colonel. I’ll need some time to prepare a statement to the woman.”

  “You may drop it off to me at my headquarters,” suggested Jonathon, passing him his calling card. “If I’m not in, just have the duty officer place it in my mailbox.”

  “You’re very kind, Colonel. I appreciate your generous offer. I will personally take it to your headquarters. Would you like more tea?”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jonathon was able to relax and let the solitude of the garden work its magic on him. They talked for an hour more about world events and personal things. Jonathon shared his grief of losing Hope with the kindly elder. By the time Jonathon left the garden, he had a warm feeling of affection for his dignified Japanese host.

  Jonathon returned the borrowed Jeep to the motor pool and turned in for the night. The next morning he was rousted from a sound sleep by Colonel Lee, who had charged into his quarters announcing that the North Koreans had just invaded South Korea.

  “My God,” exclaimed Jonathon, jumping out of bed, dumbfounded at the unexpected news. “I’ll be at HQ as soon as I can get dressed, Colonel.”

  Ten minutes later, he joined a conference at the Far East Command Headquarters. Colonel Lee was at the podium. “I’m glad you’re here, Colonel Wright. Every officer with combat experience is desperately needed to command the units we’re sending piecemeal into Korea. Your Ranger background makes you more valuable right now as a regimental commander than as an intelligence officer. The Army is scraping together every available man to form battalions into regiments. I’m placing you in command of an ad hoc regiment. You’ll be assigned to regular army units already on the ground. Commandeer any equipment you need. Assemble Jeep radio crews capable of staying in touch with Eighth Army at Pusan. How soon can you leave, Jon?”