Authors: Clifton La Bree
“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.”
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?”
“Within two hours, sir,” Jonathon answered. “What’s the
situation in Korea?”
“The North Koreans have crossed the thirty-eighth parallel
with massive numbers of tanks and men. They’re meeting light resistance. All we
have in Korea are a few military advisers. Everything we have in Japan will
soon be put into the fray. We’ve got to stop their advance. Any questions?”
“How will we get to Korea?” Jonathon asked.
“By plane. As soon as enough soldiers assemble to fill a
plane, off they go. You’ll have to sort them out once you get on the ground in
Korea.” Colonel Lee was asking a lot of Jonathon.
Jonathon swallowed hard at his new orders. His mind was
running wild absorbing the responsibilities of commanding a regiment. He was
going back into combat with a rag-tag group of men grown soft on occupational
duty. “I don’t like it, Colonel Lee, but I’ll do my best.”
Twenty-four hours later, Jonathon stepped off a DC-3
transport plane in Pusan, South Korea. He was met by an orderly for General
Walker, commander of the Eighth Army and all US forces in Korea.
“I’m Captain Downs. General Walker asked me to meet you,
Colonel Wright.”
Jonathon, dressed in field clothes, was carrying a small
duffel bag with personal gear, a thirty-caliber carbine over his shoulder and a
forty-five-caliber pistol on his belt. “I’m glad to meet you, Captain.”
Jonathon returned the young Captain’s salute and looked around the airfield. It
was a beehive of activity.
“I have a Jeep just off the runway, Colonel Wright. There’s
been a change of plans. You’ve been assigned to a regiment on the line south of
Seoul. Their commander and assistant commander have both been killed. Your job
is to hold the main road link between Pusan and Seoul. We need time to build up
our forces. You’re part of that blocking force to buy us that time.”
“Are things that grim?” asked Jonathon, following the
Captain to the Jeep.
“Between you and me, it doesn’t look good.”
Jonathon was given a briefing on the current situation at
Walker’s HQ in Pusan. The North Koreans were smashing through every attempt by
the South to block the roads. US troops were not doing much better. The North
Koreans were using Russian tanks that were almost impossible to knock out with
the light-weight rocket launchers then available to the Army. Artillery was
almost non-existent. The order issued by Walker to US troops was to “hold at
every cost.” It sounded good in press releases, but to Jonathon it sent a
chilling message that he and his men were expendable. Every career soldier
understands that at some unexpected time he may find himself in that agonizing
situation. It angered Jonathon because he had seen how ill-prepared the
occupation troops were in Japan and no one listened. Now, they were paying a
heavy price for indifference and lack of preparedness.
Jonathon was given command of the twenty-second regiment
positioned south of Seoul. A helicopter was waiting for him. He climbed aboard
without full knowledge of the chaotic conditions in Korea. Jonathon left
without any situation report and without any specific orders except to delay
enemy forces for as long as it was humanly possible to do the job. He
interpreted the orders to mean stand until total destruction was imminent
before giving ground to the enemy. On board the helicopter he met an old friend
from the last war, Major Hal Jacobs. Jonathon embraced the muscular West Point
graduate. The last time they had seen each other was on Luzon right after
Jonathon was wounded.
“Where are you headed, Hal?” asked Jonathon, glad to see
him.
“I’m your new executive officer, Colonel. I was surprised to
see your name on the latest roster. How have you been? I heard about Hope. I’m
sorry. I also heard rumors that you were thinking of retiring,” replied Hal,
hanging on to the safety straps.
“I gave it all up when I lost Hope, Hal. I almost lost my
daughter too. I just wasn’t ready to leave the army after Hope’s death. It’s
been hard on Faith. Thankfully she’s with my mother in Maine.”
“Thank God there’s someone waiting for you to come home to,”
Hal exclaimed. “You know we’ve been handed one hot potato don’t you?”
“I’ve come to the same conclusion. We’ll just have to do the
best we can with what we’ve got. Rangers are used to accomplishing the
impossible,” answered Jonathon with a sly grin. “I’m really glad to have you
with us, Hal. I feel better already about the task ahead.”
The helicopter hovered directly above an open field at an
elevation of two hundred feet. Small arms fire began hitting the aircraft. The
pilot dropped behind a clump of pine trees landing with a heavy thud. Jonathon
and Hal exited the craft and ran toward a Jeep pulled up just outside the
rotors of the helicopter.
A nervous corporal motioned for them to get in the Jeep.
“We’re under attack.”
“Where’s the regimental command post?” Jonathon asked,
gasping for breath as he and Hal climbed into the racing Jeep.
“We’ve been overrun, Colonel,” replied the corporal, driving
the Jeep at full speed along a cart track between two rice paddies. The smell
was overpowering. “You get used to it after a while,” noted the young driver.
The regiment was straddling a main road leading to Pusan.
Two of its battalions had been decimated and were no longer viable fighting
formations. Most of the officers had been killed. The third battalion was
commanded by an inexperienced second lieutenant, fresh out of ROTC. Jonathon
and Hal looked at each other in disbelief. The command post was a tarpaulin
stretched between a half-track and several trees. A map was attached to one of
the trees.
Jonathon glanced at the map to orient himself, but it didn’t
tell him anything. He asked the driver how the battalion was positioned along
the road. The young corporal never had a chance to answer the question. A squad
of North Korean soldiers had broken through the blocking battalion’s line. The
corporal was bayoneted. Jonathon killed three of the enemy with his carbine,
driving the others to cover.
“My God,” cried Jonathon. There was nothing he nor Hal could
do except defend themselves against waves of North Korean soldiers that
surrounded them. For two hours they held the hordes at bay until they ran out
of ammunition. Jonathon slung the carbine over his shoulder and pulled his
pistol. A North Korean soldier had managed to circle around them. He fired a
full burst from his submachine gun at Jonathon. The force of the burst
momentarily lifted him in the air before he collapsed on the ground.
Hal ran to the North Korean soldier, and with his bare
hands, broke his neck. Then, he picked up the submachine gun and ran to
Jonathon’s side. For a moment the area was quiet. Suddenly the pulsating whir
of helicopter blades could be heard. Hal looked up at the ungainly birds. The
pilot was looking for a place to make a landing and hovered over a small
section of a rice paddy. Hal picked up Jonathon and slung him over his shoulder
and began a sprint to the helicopter. Enemy fire riddled Hal’s body just as he
dumped Jonathon on the floor of the helicopter. A soldier in the helicopter
fired several bursts from his mounted machine gun, then stopped to drag Hal
onto the floor, screaming for the pilot to lift off. The pilot pulled for full
throttle as the craft shuddered from enemy fire. For what seemed an eternity,
the aircraft vibrated violently and began to rise. The floor of the helicopter
was covered with blood.