“My name is Mitsuo Fuchida!” he proclaimed loudly. “I served our Emperor with devotion and loyalty, as if he were my very father. I was proud to lead the attack on Pearl Harbor!”
Electricity shot through the air. Bystanders on the sidewalk came to a standstill and turned to look.
Fuchida’s heart pounded. “Yes, that’s right. I am Fuchida. I sent the message, ‘Tiger, Tiger, Tiger!’41 I believed in the war, that we were on a righteous path, that we were superior to other nations and races, and that we had a great destiny to fulfill.”
People cautiously moved toward the platform, almost in disbelief. Whispers trickled through the growing crowd as others pointed.
“For years we were told over and over that we stood high above all the nations of the world, but where did this proud idea lead us? Doesn’t Yamato mean great harmony? Yet, what harmony did we produce? In seeking honor for ourselves, instead we reaped disgrace.”
Kiniji was mesmerized. He never imagined Fuchida could speak like this. Then he nodded to himself with realization. This was the same determined warrior, only in a new battle – a majestic and powerful tiger flexing his newfound strength from deep within.
“After the war, our Emperor said he wanted to establish a peace that would last a thousand generations. I reflected on this over and over. How could we possibly do this? How could anyone establish a peace that could last a thousand generations?”
His eyes moved from face to face, each one waiting in anticipation for his next words.
“Some say if we get rid of weapons we’ll get rid of war ...”
Several people in the audience nodded with affirmation.
“... but this isn’t true. War comes from the heart, therefore peace must begin in the heart as well.”
Tim strained his neck to get a view of the growing crowd, now filling the lot and almost blocking the sidewalk. He looked over at Kiniji who shook his head in astonishment.
“I’ve seen the effects of the most powerful bomb ever created by mankind. I walked in the rubble ... among the tens of thousands of dead in Hiroshima the day after the blast of the devil bomb ... but I have seen something much more powerful, a power even able to overcome hatred, the most destructive force of all.”
Fuchida’s posture seemed to relax.
“I heard of a girl whose parents were killed by Japanese soldiers. But, instead of seeking revenge against them, she offered forgiveness. She traveled very far just to serve them. I couldn’t understand why she would do this. At first I thought she must have been crazy, that she should have taken revenge. But deep inside I was ashamed – ashamed because I knew she had a sincere love. I asked myself, ‘Where does this love come from?’”
The swelling crowd remained perfectly quiet, sensing they were witnessing something extraordinary.
“And I heard of an American prisoner who also found this secret, who somehow came to love his enemies, so I decided to study the book they studied, the Bible. And as I read, I began to understand.”
As the people standing in the streets began to block traffic, police proceeded to route cars around them, but they, too, found themselves captivated by what they heard echoing from the speakers.
“We were mistaken about God. The respect and honor that belongs to him, we had given to a mere man, like us. Even our Emperor must take his proper place among men. And we were mistaken about ourselves. There is no favored race. Yes, stronger animals dominate weaker animals, but people are made in God’s image. Those who believe they are no more than animals will live like animals, fight like animals ... and end up dying like animals.”
The late afternoon rush hour near the bridge was at a standstill. Tim turned the volume up as loud as it would go.
“Slowly I began to understand how these people could love like they did. They simply gave to others the love they received from their Father in heaven. And they could freely forgive because they had been freely forgiven through his Son.”
“I thought about how I waged war with hatred and revenge in my own heart, a war that led to the deaths of millions of people.” He paused to control his own, unexpected emotions. “I would give anything to take back my actions at Pearl Harbor ... but this is impossible. What can I possibly say to the God above, but to ask forgiveness? I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Several in the crowd nodded.
“We hate, and are hated in return, and then we hate even more. But when we love, we are likely to be loved in return, which begins the cycle of love. I have participated in the cycle of hatred for much of my life. But now, I want to begin the cycle of love as often as I can in as many places as I can.”
The fire in Fuchida’s heart seemed to blaze through his eyes.
“Our nation wasn’t destroyed by the Allied Powers. No, we destroyed ourselves ... by reaping the results of our own pride. We are all children of the same God ...” He lifted his hands and brought them closer together. “... therefore all brothers of the same blood – hakko ichiu – all people under one roof, one family.”
His eyes gazed across the crowd, who he felt as close to as his own family. “Japan still has a great destiny to fulfill in bringing harmony, but not through war. Now I finally understand.” He looked out with absolute conviction. “There can be no brotherhood of man – without the fatherhood of God.”
Chapter 131
A few weeks later. Southeast of Tokyo.
From his first memories of seeing the ocean, Fuchida had always loved it. The salty gusts blew his hair as he sat on the mountainside overlooking the bay, listening to the churning surf below and the calls of seagulls above. The beaches of Shimo-Yamaguchi lay on the opposite side of the peninsula where the Yokosuka Naval Base was located. Fuchida leaned back in the late afternoon by himself as the sun slowly descended on the far side of the ocean bay.
It was so calm, unlike the stormy waves crashing within his mind. He picked up a pebble and hurled it toward the ocean and sighed with exasperation. It wasn’t hard for him to see how he had gotten himself into this predicament, but it was exceedingly difficult to find a way out.
He knew what he should do. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was actually doing it and the pain it would cause the people he loved. The pain it would cause himself as well.
A Red-crowned Crane entered the sky from his left, and he followed it as it gracefully flapped across the sky until it left his vision. Perhaps it was a sign, he thought, as the bird had been long-believed to be a sign of luck and fidelity.
Fuchida ran his hands over his head several times, then headed down the rocky hillside. There was so much he was uncertain of now, but there was one thing he was certain of – he had to do this one thing.
Sitting in streetcar, he gazed out through the windows to the lighted businesses in the fading sky, yet he saw nothing. His mind was far away.
He slowly climbed the steps of the dark wood apartment building with heavy feet, opened the door, and entered a long hallway. A man and wife walked past him carrying bags of food from the market.
After an unhurried walk down the corridor, he came to a pale green door with cracked, peeling paint, and stood before it without knocking. He could only stare at the door number, which he had seen many times before.
Sighing deeply again, he knocked three times and waited.
Quick, small steps came into hearing and the door cracked open revealing an adorable four-year-old Japanese girl, who immediately broke into a smile.
“Daddy! Daddy!” The door swung open and she immediately latched onto his leg. “You’re back!”
Fuchida struggled to smile down at his daughter and entered, quietly closing the door behind him.
An attractive woman sat brushing her hair in front of a mirror, the woman who had served him confections in the office five years earlier. “You’re an hour late,” she said without looking.
He crouched down and hugged his daughter, wrapping his arms fully around her tiny body as tears formed in his eyes.
; “I want to try that new restaurant,” the woman said, “that just opened two blocks down,” She made a few touches to her hair, checking it from both angles in the mirror. “Finally, they’re rebuilding some of the shops.”
Fuchida silently released his daughter and stood upright, motionless.
As she gave a last brushing to the back of her hair, her head faced Fuchida for the first time since he entered. She saw his eyes. “No. Oh no you don’t! You promised me!” Fury swept over her face as she stood and ran from the room, beginning to sob.
The little girl looked up with fear at her mother, then at her father, who followed her into the next room.
“You said you would leave her!” she screamed holding a handkerchief to her face. “You promised you would divorce her and marry me! You promised!”
He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but it was batted away.
“Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t you dare try to take our daughter, either! She stays with me! You’ll never see her again if you do this! Do you hear me! Never!” She broke down into uncontrolled weeping. “You liar! You promised me!”
Realizing there was nothing more to say or do, he quietly exited back to the front room, where he saw his daughter’s trembling body and tear-stained face. He knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, but he could clearly she knew it was terrible. Muffled sobs from the other room filled the air.
Approaching her, she spoke with a trembling voice. “Daddy, where are you going? Daddy don’t go! Daddy!” She fell into tears.
Fuchida squatted down to her and wiped her tears with his hands. Then he grasped both of her hands in his. “Daddy will write you letters. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry.” It required all of his strength to control his own emotions as he looking into his daughter’s eyes. “I have made a terrible mistake. I have to go now. I will always love you. Forever.”
He released his daughter and reached for the door handle.
“I’ll never let you see her again! Never! Do you hear me?!” the woman screamed. A vase shattered against the wall beside the door. “Never!”
His daughter ran to the other room in tears.
Turning the handle, Fuchida opened the door and softly exited and closed the door of a room he knew he would never enter again. And he knew she was right. Japanese law gave all rights to the mother. He would never see either of them again.
That evening in his little farmhouse, Fuchida stood silently across the room from Haruko in their kitchen. The courage that propelled him to wage war and seek victory in national pride, now implored him to sue for peace in personal humility.
She wiped the same part of the counter repeatedly.
Staring without emotion, he spoke with a small voice, “Haruko, I ... I need to talk with you.”
He could tell that she knew. She’d known all along. It was a pain she’d learned to live with and had hidden just like he had, only she had no choice in the matter. She glared back at him, threw the dishrag down, turned and left the room.
His head lowered, Fuchida followed her.
Chapter 132
Early May, 1950. Tokyo.
Holding their six-month-old second child, John, on her lap, Florence sat beside Jake slowly swinging on a hanging bench in their small backyard garden. Paul, now three years old, curiously investigated orchids.
“I don’t want you to hurt your health, honey,” Florence said, playfully bobbling their son.
“No, I’ll be all right. I really need to do this.” Jake said.
Florence look worried. “Fasting for forty days? That’s a long time, and your body’s been through so much already.”
Jake looked at his wife. “Don’t get me wrong. We’ve seen some good things happen, but a lot of people just don’t seem interested.” He took his tea, blew over the surface and took a sip as Paul carefully disassembled a flower blossom.
“I’m a gaijin, a foreigner. Sometimes I feel welcome, but sometimes I feel kind of like ... like I’ve been invited to dinner, with no place to sit. They want to hear from one of their own. Maybe someday it’ll change.”
Stopping the swing from rocking, Jake turned toward Florence. “But I’ll tell ya, if the Japanese people ever show the same kind of zeal and devotion to God, the real God, that they’ve shown to their Emperor, they could do great things in this world for others. Great things.”
Florence stopped rocking the baby in her arms. “Forty days on only water? Are you sure?”
Jake smiled as he enjoyed the garden, then looked at Florence. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Chapter 133
May, 1950. Kashiwara.
The vegetable gardens in good order, Fuchida and Haruko took time to dress up the front of their little house with the planting of a few bushes and budding irises. Yoshiya and Miyako dutifully unloaded each plant carefully beside their parents as Lity tried to stay out of their way chasing chickens behind them.
In a wide straw hat tied with a ribbon under her chin, Haruko knelt while carefully hollowing out another hole between her and Fuchida. He delicately seated the iris with its bright purple blossoms just beginning to show as Haruko pushed the dark soil around it with her bare hands and patted it down.
Fuchida gently placed his hand on hers. “In time ... in time, this will grow into something beautiful.”
She was afraid to look into his eyes, but couldn’t resist.
“I know it will,” he said.
For the first time in a long while, Haruko smiled.
Inside their home, Fuchida wiped off his hands, scanned his little library, and pulled out a book on flowers and began flipping through the pages.
“Honey?” Haruko called from the front porch. “Another visitor is here to see you!”
“Send him in!” Fuchida shouted back, still poring over his book.
As time went on, more and more of his old friends had found out where he lived and came by to visit and catch up. All of those who’d been in the war shared a common experience and relished each other’s company.
A young man in his late twenties arrived in Fuchida’s study using a single crutch, poorly dressed in worn clothes, and missing one leg. He smiled and reached out his hand. “Mr. Fuchida, I’m Noboru Nakamura. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Fuchida smiled and glanced down at his one leg as they shook hands.
“Okinawa,” Noboru said. “I was a second lieutenant.”
“I’m sorry,” Fuchida replied, viewing the man somewhat askance. He wasn’t sure who he was or why he was there, but was willing to give him an opportunity to explain.
Noboru held out a pack of cigarettes and shook one toward Fuchida.
“Thank you, but I don’t smoke anymore.”
He smiled and put the pack into his pocket. “I’m the president of an organization for disabled veterans, but no one will hire veterans, though, all because of MacArthur.”
Fuchida nodded in sympathy. He, too, was disappointed in many of the new rules put in place by MacArthur, including the closing of military hospitals making crippled soldiers into street beggars. He was especially angered by the policy of denying pensions to all former members of the military, even those from before the war.
Noboru shuffled a bit closer to Fuchida. “Is it true, what the newspapers say about you? I’ve always respected and admired you, but I can’t believe that you, you, would become a Christian. Christianity is just the camouflage of America’s occupation policy!”
“I am a Christian,” Fuchida stated flatly. “This is true.”
Noboru’s eyebrows lowered and he nodded as if his suspicions had been confirmed. “You were once brave when you served the Emperor. But now ... now you’ve become a weak coward and a traitor.” He looked at Fuchida with disgust. “You’ve betrayed our people. You led thousands to their deaths, men who trusted you and followed you! Now you’re following the Yankee demon bastards!” He suddenly drew a knife to Fuchida’s throat. “How can you turn your back on your own people, your own ance
stors, and become a Christian, of all things?!” His eyes drilled into Fuchida’s, yet Fuchida showed no fear. “What is your answer?!”
From outside, Haruko called out, “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine!” Fuchida yelled back.
Noboru’s trembling hand pressed the blade against Fuchida’s neck as the two minds wrestled, eye to eye.
“I was a patriot then and I’m a patriot now,” Fuchida responded. “I love my country and our people deeply!” He pushed forward against Noboru and the knife. “I was born in the year of the tiger and I am descended from samurai!”
Perspiration dripped down Noboru’s face as Fuchida began breathing harder.
“A samurai is a servant of a lord and I served our Emperor faithfully. I even spoke to him face to face! Have you done that?!
Noboru swallowed hard, but held the knife firmly.
“But our Emperor himself declared that he is no god and no master. You and I are both ronin, samurai without a master. True?!
Their faces were now inches apart, and neither would back away.
“And according to Bushido, how does a samurai remove his dishonor, hmm?! There is only one way, by taking his own life – oibara!42 Better to die with honor than to live in shame, right?!
“Of course!” Noboru shot back. Blood began to dampen the blade pressed against Fuchida’s neck.
“Tell me,” Fuchida said more gently, “what do you know of Christ?”
Noboru’s eyes darted back and forth across Fuchida’s face. “Nothing,” he said loudly. “I don’t know anything about him.”
“In battle it’s considered a great honor and privilege to lay down your life for your master. But when have you ever heard of a master laying down his life for his servants?” Fuchida let the strange words sink in. “This is the Master I now serve!”
Unconsciously, Noboru lowered the knife. “Why? Why would he do something like that?”
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