Silent Honor (15 page)

At two
A.M.
another blackout was ordered, and at three
A.M.
the roar of two squadrons of enemy planes was reported. They were never seen or heard from again, and the next day Lieutenant General John De Witt insisted that they came from an aircraft carrier, but no sign of it was found anywhere. The carrier itself was never spotted, only the phantom planes were heard but not seen, and the next day the headlines were full of threats of enemy attacks and imaginary sightings. By December ninth, the entire city was exhausted.

But the same circus began again that night, this time not only in San Francisco but also in New York and Boston. People were terrified everywhere, and the threat of the Japanese was overwhelming. And no one could withstand the constant panic of the air raids and headlines. Particularly on the West Coast, General De Witt was whipping everyone into a frenzy of terror.

Two days after that, on Thursday, Germany declared war on the United States, as Guam fell to the Japanese. And in Berkeley, the U.S. Treasury ordered every Japanese-owned business that had been seized on Monday to be closed. Japanese-held business in the United States, such as it was, was over.

It was a difficult time for Hiroko too. She had scarcely left her room since it all began, and her roommates avoided her more pointedly than ever. On December eleventh, she had a serious meeting with the dean of students. Hiroko was sure that, given everything she'd been hearing on the news, they would ask her to leave the school, and she was astounded when they didn't. The dean of students was extremely kind, told her that she had no illusions whatsoever that Hiroko was any part of this, but just like the Americans who'd been bombed, Hiroko was an innocent victim. She knew that this was a highly emotional time for all of them, and she had heard rumors of unkindness to Hiroko by other students, but Hiroko said nothing to her at all about Sharon Williams's sins, or the extreme unkindness of Anne Spencer.

She suggested that Hiroko leave on schedule, like the other students, for her Christmas vacation the next day, and return to St. Andrew's again after Christmas.

“I'm sure things will have settled down a little by then, and you can get back to your schoolwork.” Hiroko had only left her room for exams all week. She had even taken food from the dining room to eat in her room so she wouldn't have to face the other students. But she had kept up with her work, as always. She was a topflight student. ‘This has been a difficult time for everyone, particularly the girls from Hawaii,” said the dean. There were only two of them, and they had finally heard that no one in their immediate families had been injured, but one of them looked as though she were going to lunge at Hiroko each time she saw her. “Have you heard anything at all from your own family?” the dean inquired discreetly.

“Only that they wish me to stay here,” Hiroko said softly. “My father does not wish me to return to Japan now.” The months and the weeks she had counted had been in vain, and she had realized only the night before that it might be years before she was able to return to her homeland. The thought of it brought tears to her eyes again, and she looked at the dean with gratitude for being so kind to her, and letting her come back after Christmas. She was, after all, an enemy alien, and they easily could have asked her to withdraw, but they hadn't. All week she had
seen
the news-papers raving about the “sneaky Japs” in the headlines, and it was very painful.

“This will be a difficult Christmas for all of us, I'm sure,” the dean said solemnly. Everyone had loved ones and relatives who were enlisting. It was rare that anyone was untouched by what had happened. “But you can start fresh in the new year, Hiroko. Well be happy to have you.” She stood up and shook Hiroko's hand, and when she left the office and returned to her room, Hiroko found she was still shaking. She could still go to school. She hadn't been expelled for being Japanese. And she was surprised to realize that it was an enormous relief to her. Unlike the girls, at least the administration was not treating her as though she personally had attacked Pearl Harbor.

She packed her things that night to go back to Palo Alto the
next
day. And for the first time in four days, Sharon and Anne returned to the room too, and packed their things. And for the first time since Pearl Harbor, they slept there. But twice that night, they all had to go downstairs for air raids. Every night now there were reports of enemy aircraft heading toward the coast, or submarines sighted, ready to torpedo unsuspecting ships in the harbor. But the planes and the carriers never materialized, nor did the submarines, or the torpedoes. The only thing that materialized, until it was almost tangible, was panic.

This time, Takeo himself came to drive her home, and he brought Aunt Rei, and Hiroko was enormously relieved to see them. It had been an agonizing week for her, and none of the girls in her dorm said goodbye to her, or wished her a merry Christmas. And the moment she got into the car with her relatives, Hiroko began to cry. It was such a relief to see them.

“It was just terrible,” she said in Japanese. Every time she spoke to them now, she forgot to speak English. Usually they didn't care, but this time, as they drove away, Reiko said sharply that she had to speak English. “Why?” Hiroko looked at her, surprised. She knew she would understand her, and English was such an effort for her, especially now, with everything that had happened.

“It doesn't matter how difficult it is for you, Hiroko. We're at war with Japan,” she said bluntly. “You could be picked up as an enemy agent.”

“I think that's a little extreme.” Uncle Tak smiled at her, thinking that his wife had gone too far this time, but he agreed it was certainly more diplomatic to speak English. “I do think, though, that right now you should make the effort. People are very nervous.” The headlines had been incredible, about Jap threats, and Jap planes, and Jap bombs. Commander of the West-em Defense Command, General De Witt, was feeding the press an absolute tidal wave of terror.

And by Saturday, Italy, Germany, and Japan, as well as Romania and Bulgaria, had all declared war against the Allies. Hiroko felt as though she'd personally been bombed all week, she was absolutely exhausted from everything that had happened. She slept almost all day Saturday, and only got up in time to help Reiko cook dinner. Tami was particularly worried about her. But her mother just said to let her be. She just hoped they wouldn't have an air raid.

And it wasn't until Sunday that Hiroko saw Peter. He came to see Tak, officially, but he knew she was there, and he was anxious to see her. She came slowly downstairs in a dark gray kimono, with a serious air, and she looked sadder than he had ever seen her, in the somber color. She bowed to him, as she always had before, and this time, her cousin reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.

“Hiroko, don't do that anymore. Right now, it's important that you don't stand out anywhere. Even here. It's better if you stop bowing.” She looked shocked by what he had said. She couldn't afford to be different anymore. Everything was changing. He left them alone then, and went to look for some papers, with a small, wintry smile at Peter.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked her cautiously. He had been afraid to ask Tak about her too often, but he had been worried sick about her all week, and he was relieved to see her. She looked tired, and a little wan, and she had clearly lost weight. If anything, she looked even smaller.

“I am fine, Peter-san,” she said, starting to bow again, but this time her cousin's words stopped her.

“Tak's right,” Peter said softly. ‘One of my sansei friends told me the other night that her grandmother burned her little Japanese flag on Monday night, she was afraid to get into trouble.”

“That's foolish,” Hiroko said, sounding even to her own ears like her father.

“Maybe not. People do crazy things in wartime. Are you going back?” he asked worriedly. “To St. Andrew's, I mean.” He already knew from Tak that her father wanted her to stay in California, even if she would have been able to return to Japan, which he doubted. “What did they tell you?”

“They said I could go back to school, and they are very sorry if people have been unkind to me.”

He was surprised that she had told them, but she hadn't. Others had, and she explained that as he nodded.

“What makes you think they won't do it again?”

“They might. But I cannot live with
chizoku.
I must have Bushido, and go back to face them.” She smiled, watching him. There was something very strong about her now. She knew she had to be brave, and she would not let her family down. She would be dignified and proud. She would not live with shame,
chizoku.
And the Bushido she spoke of, he had heard of before. It was the courage of the samurai to walk into battle. “I will go back, Peter-san. I am not at war with them. I am not at war with anyone.” She looked luminous and peaceful, and he was drawn to her again, as he had been before, as though a magnet deep inside him pulled him to her.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said softly. “I'm not at war with anyone either.” Not yet anyway. He had already spoken to his draft board. For the moment, unless things changed, he was going to finish the school year, and then he would join the army. Stanford had made a special request for him, so they didn't have to close the department.

“It's a shame they will not let you stay longer,” she said sadly. “It will be hard for Uncle Tak when you're gone, for all of us,” she said, her eyes caressing his, as he touched her fingers. “It will be dangerous for you, Peter-san.” And then she told him about Yuji joining the air force. It was a strange time, and she realized suddenly that she would have people she loved on both sides of the war. It was a sad position to be in.

They talked on for a little while, and eventually the others joined them, and Peter stayed for dinner. They went outside for a short walk afterward, and took the dog. The lively Shiba followed them down the street, past the familiar houses of the Tanakas' neighbors. But even here, according to Reiko, there had been subtle reactions. Two of their neighbors had suddenly been chilly toward them. Their sons had already enlisted in the army, as had the older brothers of all of Ken's friends. And one of the patients she'd cared for in the hospital that week had asked her to leave his room. He said he didn't want any damn Jap taking care of him, she might kill him. He'd been very old and very infirm, so she'd put it down to that, but one of the other nisei nurses had had the same experience with a young woman from Hawaii.

“It's not going to be easy for them,” Peter said softly about her cousins. “People are bound to react at first. I guess it'll calm down eventually. It can't go on like this forever, but people are upset, understandably. We were attacked, and when they see a Japanese face, it reminds them.”

“But my cousins are American,” she parried, but he knew that.

“Obviously, but some people don't know that. And I guess others are just too upset to think it through. Your cousins are as American as I am.”

“I am the only enemy here,” Hiroko said sadly, looking up at him, and without saying a word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“You're not my enemy, Hiroko-san …you never will be.” She affected him as no other woman had before her. And that week, he had finally broken off with Carole, except that the final argument with her had turned out differently than he'd expected. He'd had dinner with her, intending to explain to her that his affections were otherwise engaged. But before he could even tell her that, she told him she thought he should ask for a transfer at Stanford.

“To what? Biology?” he had asked, amused. “Why?” He was completely baffled. But she had gone on to say that as far as she was concerned, the American thing to do was to refuse to work with Takeo, or better yet, to have him fired. “Are you crazy?” he had asked her, wide-eyed, unable to believe she had said those words to him. Takeo Tanaka was a credit to the university, and nothing less than brilliant.

“Maybe, but he's the enemy,” she had said flatly. “He ought to be deported.”

“To where? He's lived here for twenty years, for chrissake. He'd be a citizen, if he could be.” Peter had been furious about what she was saying. And eventually she got around to saying that Hiroko should be put in jail, or maybe shot, in retaliation for the men and women who had died at Pearl Harbor. It was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. But when she mentioned Hiroko, he held back no longer. “How can you say things like that?” he asked, stupefied. “How can you react to all that hysterical garbage they put in the papers? I don't believe for a minute that there were aircraft carriers off the coast every night last week. If there had been, they'd have bombed us. I think people are hysterical, and that goddamn General De Witt along with them. But how you can say something like that, Carole, is beyond me.” She'd been adamant with him, and there was no convincing her that her view of American-born Japanese was utterly crazy. He knew there was no point in arguing with her, but he did anyway, out of sheer loyalty to his friends, and then he told her that for her peculiar views, and other reasons that were too lengthy to go into, he no longer wanted to see her.

She seemed almost relieved, and she told him pointedly that as far as she was concerned anyway, anyone that was sympathetic to the Japanese was obviously an enemy agent. He couldn't believe he'd heard her say it, and he actually laughed when he went back to his car, and told Tak a modified version of it the next morning. But Takeo was neither as amused nor as angry as Peter had been. He saw Carole's view as only the tip of the iceberg.

“I think we're going to hear a lot of people saying things like that. There's going to be an inevitable reaction to the panic.”

“But that's ridiculous. You're not Japanese anymore, and my working for you hardly makes me a spy. Now, come on, Tak, you've got to admit, it's pretty funny.”

“I don't think any of it is funny right now. I think we all need to be very careful.”

And he had said as much to Reiko, and they all discussed it again at dinner on Sunday. But Peter thought that Takeo was a little too worried. Telling Hiroko not to bow anymore was probably sensible. There was no point in drawing attention to the fact that she was foreign. But as for the nisei and the sansei, and all of them who were American born, they had no reason to be concerned. This was their homeland.