“My brother and I came by to say that we’re sorry about the things we said and did to Terry,” the older boy volunteered.
“I believe that you should say that to Terry instead of to me,” she said, motioning them into the living room where Terry was sitting on the couch. He was shy and uncomfortable. “Terry, these two boys have something to say to you.”
He stood up and looked down at the floor for a moment, then he confronted the two boys.
“Terry,” began the older boy. ”Me and my brother Tom apologize for the way we acted. My mother suggested that we should shake hands and put it behind us.”
Larry extended his hand to Terry who was anxious to shake. Thomas also stepped forward. “That goes for me too. We were wrong to say those things to you.”
Terry took his hand and asked eagerly, “Does that mean we can be friends?”
“Sure, if you want,” replied Larry with a grin. “My dad was a soldier and he told us that the most courageous soldiers in the army were the Japanese-Americans fighting in Italy. We didn’t really mean what we said. We thought that it would make us look big to our friends, but we were wrong.”
Lisa and Mrs. Holmes smiled at each other, pleased with the outcome. A lesson in tolerance and humility had just been learned.
“I want to thank you boys for coming by,” said Lisa, turning to Terry. “Is there something you want to say, Son?”
“No… except thanks for letting me be your friend,” replied Terry, beaming all over. To be accepted by older boys as a friend was a treat for a five-year-old.
“Later this fall after the leaves have fallen, maybe I could hire you boys to do some raking for me. I’ll pay the going rates in the neighborhood,” suggested Lisa. The boys eagerly looked up at their mother.
“The boys would be pleased at a chance to earn some extra money,” Mrs. Holmes answered for them. “We must be going now. I have a roast in the oven.”
Terry and his mother stood on the porch watching the boys get back into their mother’s Ford. Mrs. Holmes had given Lisa a hug before leaving. Terry waved from the porch as they drove down the street. Lisa was satisfied with the way Mrs. Holmes handled the situation, and Terry was pleased about the prospect of having older boys as friends. They were settling into the neighborhood on a positive note!
Lisa combed Terry’s black hair away from his eyes with her index finger. “You know son, as you grow older, you’ll find that people who say bad things about others really don’t like themselves. We feel good when others like us, but it’s just as important that we like ourselves. The things bad people say should not change that. Most people accept little boys like you when you're kind, respectful, and polite to others. If you listen to the little voice inside of you and act upon it, you’ll seldom be wrong.”
Terry did not understand all that his mother told him, but he knew that she loved him. “My teacher seems to like me.”
“Of course she does. Now, what do you say if we have a quick bite to eat. Afterwards, we can take a ride to a place where they make submarines. Go wash your hands and I’ll make some sandwiches.”
“Mom,” he asked, stopping at the screen door. “Do they make toy submarines or real ones?”
“Real big ones, Son,” she smiled.
An hour later, they left the house. Lisa was more quiet than usual. Two things weighed heavily on her mind. The first was Jonathon’s reaction to Terry. She had never mentioned him to Jonathon. Since she left the prison camp, most of her conversations were limited to their time on the hospital ship from Guam to Pearl Harbor. They had exchanged a few letters before the war ended, but not a word in the past five years. His unusual request for her to visit him had to be for something out of the ordinary. Jonathon Wright was not an impulsive person who would do rash things on a whim. She had detected a hesitancy on his part. The more she thought about it, the more she worried that it might have been better to have left Terry behind.
Lisa drove the Studebaker to the visitor center at the main gate of the navy yard. Two gray submarines were sitting in the water beside the center. Terry was fascinated by the ships. Workmen were moving about on the deck and a large crane was lifting pieces of equipment through an opening on the top deck.
“You stay in the car and watch the boat, Terry. I’ll be right back. Do you understand?” she insisted firmly.
Terry knew that when she used that tone of voice, she really meant what she said. “I will, Mom. Is that a real gun on the boat?” he asked pointing to the deck gun.
“Yes, Terry,” she replied, locking the Studebaker.
A few minutes later she returned with two visitor passes. She pinned one on Terry and clipped one on her blazer pocket and started the car. A marine sergeant at the gate stopped her.
“I have two passes to the hospital, sergeant,” she pointed to the passes. “How do I get there?”
“Just follow the blue ‘H’ signs ma’am. They’ll lead you to the left after the bridge. It’s just a few hundred yards. Enjoy your stay.”
Lisa drove over the narrow bridge following the signs and stopped in a parking lot for the hospital. “Come, Terry, Mom is going to meet an old friend, a soldier that has been wounded. He’s inside expecting us. I want you to stay close to me. Don’t be frightened of the sick and wounded men we may see.”
As soon as they stepped into the receiving area, Terry looked up at her and said, “It smells like medicine in here, Mom.”
“Yes, it does, but we must be quiet so that we don’t disturb those who are trying to sleep.” Lisa held his hand and stopped at the main desk. “I’m here to see Colonel Jonathon Wright.”
“Let’s see,” answered a pharmacist mate, running his finger through a roster list of patients. “Oh, yes. He’s our only army patient. We’re honored to have a Medal of Honor recipient. You’ll find his room down the corridor, 112. Normally we would not permit children under ten, but since the Colonel is in a private room, I don’t see anything wrong in letting the boy visit. They’ve just finished serving dinner. Enjoy your visit Ma’am. By the way, I need your name for the records.”
“I’m Lisa Carter and this is my son, Terry. Thank you for making an exception with Terry.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Carter.”
Lisa continued to hold Terry’s hand and slowly walked down the corridor checking numbers. The door for room number 112 was open. She could see a patient sitting in bed looking out the window. His upper torso was sheathed in plaster with his right arm in a sling. She stared at his left sleeve. It was empty!
Chapter Sixteen
Lisa was startled by the discovery and involuntarily held her breath. Jonathon heard her and turned his head. She saw sadness and loneliness in his face. He recognized her, and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Lisa. I was afraid you might not make it today.”
“What else would an old friend do, Colonel?” she insisted. “This little boy with me is my son, Terry. Terry, this is Colonel Wright, a very brave soldier and a good friend of mine.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Terry. You’ll have to excuse my unsightly appearance. I’d shake hands with you if I could, but I can’t. A lot of my friends have autographed the cast I’m wearing. Would you like to sign your name on it?”
Terry looked at the man wrapped in white bandages. At his young age Terry did not completely understand the severity of Jonathon’s injuries, but he was mature enough to know that the soldier had been badly hurt. “Yes, I can print my name,” he answered proudly.
“He’s a quick learner for a five-year-old,” added Lisa, taking a pen from her blazer pocket. “Here I’ll hold you so that you can put your name on Colonel Wright’s arm cast.”
“If you place your name on the cast, that means we’re friends. What do you think about that, Terry?”
“I think it will be swell,” he replied, carefully printing his name on the white plaster cast. When he was focused on doing something, he had a habit of holding his tongue between his lips. After he was don
e, he looked at the other names on the cast. “Are you going to sign it, Mom?”
“If the colonel doesn’t mind, I will.” Lisa placed Terry back on the floor.
“First of all, the colonel has a name, Jonathon. I like it when my friends call me Jon. Second, I’d be honored to have you sign my cast, Lisa Carter.”
Lisa opened the pen and signed her name below Terry’s. Her glance wandered to the empty left sleeve. It touched her not because it was offensive to her, but, because Jonathon did not deserve to be so grievously wounded.
Two nurses entered the room. One administered medication to a bottle with a tube feeding into his right shoulder. The other nurse gave him two pills by his mouth and held a glass of water with a straw for him to drink. When they left he laid his head back against the pillows and looked at Lisa. He smiled for a second, embarrassed that she was seeing him in this condition.
“I have to be fed every meal,” he confessed in a low voice. “You look good, Lisa. I remember how you looked when Faith and I saw you in Boston… You must be wondering why I asked you to come. Please, pull up a chair where I can see both of you. I get tired when I talk too much, so bear with me.”
Lisa did as he asked and directed Terry to sit beside her. “You don’t have to apologize, especially to me, Jon.”
“You’ll find an envelope in the stand beside my bed. The letter was addressed to me at my Tokyo address. I received it a long time after I left Japan. The mail followed me from Pearl Harbor, to San Francisco, to Portsmouth. Inside, you’ll find another envelope addressed: To Whom It May Concern. Please, open that letter and read it. I’ve agonized over the decision to let you see it. I know how difficult some things have been for you. Perhaps this letter will discuss things that you just as soon not know, but how will you be certain if you don’t read it? Remember, I am only the messenger, and I have been that because I believe you may find some answers to the questions you’ve been searching for. If the letter hurts, I’m so sorry, and apologize. I’ve done this thing praying that it might bring you some peace, Lisa. I’m the last person in the world to want to hurt you.”
“I believe you, Jon,” answered Lisa, fingering the inner letter.
“If you want to be private, Lisa, you may go into a lounge across from my door, it’ll give Terry and I a chance to get better acquainted. I believe you’ll find the letter self-explanatory.”
“If you don’t mind,” Lisa answered, looking at Terry. “Mommie will be right back. You can tell Colonel Wright all about your new school in Durham.”
Lisa exited the room with a lump in her throat and quickly entered the lounge. She devoured the contents of the letter holding her breath in anticipation:
Tokyo, Japan
June 25, 1950
To Whom It May Concern;
Yesterday I was paid a visit by a remarkable young soldier, Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Wright. We talked of many things and shared tea in my garden. He was troubled about the death of my son, Toshio, the prison camp commandant. Colonel Wright did not apologize for being the instrument of death, indeed he believed that justice was well served. Yet, the death troubled him because of the sadistic behavior of my son and the men under his command.
I am Toshio’s father and bear some responsibility for his actions. His barbaric behavior was contrary to every value his mother and I have embraced. He violated every virtue and standard of behavior that guides civilized man. I am sorry for that conduct and if it was in my power, I would erase the sordid acts and replace them with the healing grace of kindness and compassion which transcends every race and culture.
Five years have passed since the war ended and I have agonized every day over the death of my son. It would have been easier to bear if he had been a brave soldier defending his country. Death would have had meaning and we could honor his courage and sacrifice… Alas, that honor has been denied his aging father. Instead of honor, I hang my head in shame and regret that he was my son. At least his mother has not had to bear the shame. She died in one of the bombing raids and never knew the truth.
If he had lived, and I was to learn of his behavior, the justice which Colonel Wright mentioned would not have been carried out by strangers. I personally would have been the instrument of death.
Across the miles of a mighty ocean, I send you my apologies, and extend a hand in friendship. It is right and proper to detest Toshio’s actions, but, I beg of you, do not extend that hatred to all of the Japanese people.
I believe Colonel Wright will deliver this letter to you as he promised. I hope that you derive some measure of peace and consolation from my message. May God be with you.
Toshio’s Father
She read the letter with tears gathering in her eyes blotting out the pages. Quiet sobs filled the empty lounge. Sitting rigidly on the edge of a chair, Lisa cleared the tears with a handkerchief and went over the letter again, word for word. It did not anger her, instead, it comforted her that someone else in the world was sharing her sorrow. She was encouraged by its sincere, uplifting tone in perfect English. Now, she understood why Jon requested a visit in person. The news he had to share was a heartfelt message from a tormented father. She had empathy for the gentleman.
Several visitors entered the lounge and sat down. Lisa excused herself and went into a women’s restroom off the lounge and splattered water on her face. She did not want Terry to see that she had been crying. Lisa looked at herself in the mirror. Her thick auburn hair framed her small face. Earrings with an American flag dangling from a gold chain hung from her ear lobes. She thought she looked pale and squeezed her cheeks just before she darted back to Jonathon’s room.
Terry was standing at the window describing to Jonathon what he saw on the partially submerged submarine next to the hospital. He turned to look at his mother and ran into her waiting arms. He saw that she had been crying. “Why are you crying, Mom?”
“I’m all right, Terry,” she reached to pick him up and sat down on the chair with him on her lap. “You know how easy it is for Mom to cry when I’m happy and excited.”
Jonathon observed her closely as she embraced Terry, hoping that he had not made a mistake. The letter had to have been a powerful message from out of nowhere.
Lisa replaced the letter in the drawer. “It was certainly not what I expected,” she told him in a low voice. “The fact that you approached the man is not a surprise to me, Jon. I believe I would have done the same thing if I had been in your shoes. Thank you for being the messenger. Friends are a rare gift in this world.”
“I’m relieved, Lisa. I’ve been uncertain about it for a long time.”
“How did you perceive the man?” she inquired.
“I was surprised. He was not the person I expected to find. He’s a well-educated man who speaks excellent English. I had a hunch that he was an honest man tormented by memories of his son’s acts of cruelty. I spent a couple of hours with him and came away thinking that I had just been in the company of a fine human being. Sounds strange doesn’t it?”
“Not really, considering what’s taking place in the world today. One day a country is a friend and the next day it’s an enemy. Will you ever see him again?”
“I doubt it,” Jon replied. “Under normal circumstances, with an arm missing, I’d be discharged from the army. They’re making an exception in my case at the University of New Hampshire. As soon as I’m fitted with my artificial arm, I’m going to command the ROTC unit at the university for a tour of two years. So my travels to Japan are finished. Would you like to meet him?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve got to think about it,” mused Lisa. “Little Terry is too young to understand all the innuendoes taking place around him right now. Perhaps I could write a reply….” Lisa saw the deep lines around Jon’s eyes. He looked exhausted. “All we’ve been talking about is me. How about you? I sympathize with what your injuries have done to your army career. Sometimes I get wrapped up in my own worries without thinking of others. Is there anything I can do fo
r you?”
“Whenever you might have the time, a familiar face is always nice to see,” Jonathon suggested.
“I’d like that. It’s a short drive down from Durham. Has your wife been to see you?” she asked.
“No, my wife, Hope, was killed in a train crash several years ago. I thought you knew. My mother and Faith, my daughter, are coming for a visit at the end of the week. If you could make it then you could meet them,” suggested Jon. The pain killers were taking affect. He was getting drowsy.
Lisa felt stupid asking the question. For a man who does nothing but give of himself, he certainly has had his share of traumatic experiences. Her problems seem small by comparison.
“You’re looking tired, Jon. Terry and I’ll be leaving. Thanks for being such a good friend. Get well soon.” Lisa bent over him and gently kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep well Jon, sleep well.”
The sight of Jon covered with bandages and casts bothered her. She had been with wounded soldiers for several weeks before the war ended, and she was shipped out of the Pearl Harbor Hospital. Instead of being places of gloom and discouragement, they frequently were havens of hope and belief in a better future. Her spirits had been lifted by the support of one another in the wards. The most seriously wounded were given the most support of all. The other soldiers and sailors circled the wagons around those most in need. No one suffered alone unless it was by request.
Memories of Jonathon, when he led the raid on the prison compound, contrasted with the soldier she saw at the Navy Yard. On Luzon he had projected an air of tireless invincibility as did his fellow Rangers. Fearless and courageous in combat, they were models of compassion and sensitivity to the women inmates. She would always remember that part of Jonathon. She attributed her physical and emotional survival to the gentle decency he displayed to her in the first two minutes they met in the bedroom of the commandant’s house.
A Song For Lisa Page 14