Edge of Valor (31 page)

Staged. This whole damned thing has been staged. Why couldn't they just do this quietly?

Colonel Ledbetter did a creditable job of reading the articles of promotion. People clapped and cheered as Letenske, with great panache, stepped close and handed a box of gold oak leaves to Colonel Ledbetter. He whispered to Helen, “Don't forget about Louie's.”

Helen knew Letenske was a hero. He had led his dogfaces through the North Africa, Sicily, and Italian campaigns, and he carried a piece of shrapnel in his head from a German mortar near Anzio. He had two Purple Hearts atop a chest full of medals. This was supposed to be soft, recuperative duty for him. But he pushed it too far at times.

She threw Letenske a hard stare and then looked around the room as Colonel Ledbetter fumbled at pinning on her collar devices. Martha Brubaker stood close
by, beaming. Eddie Bergen shuffled into the room wearing his bathrobe, slippers, and a wan smile. There were other patients from her ward as well, and of course the doctors and nurses she worked with.

Finally finished, Colonel Ledbetter smiled and stepped back. “Congratulations, Major.” He extended his hand.

“Thanks.” Helen took it.

Martha Brubaker stepped up and gestured toward the back of the room. “Helen, the kitchen staff fixed a cake.”

Indeed they had. Flaming candles adorned a large, square three-layer chocolate cake arranged on a long table. Finger sandwiches and a large bowl of iced lemonade stood nearby. For the first time she saw the long butcher's paper sign on the back wall: “Congratulations Helen.” She forced a smile. “Jeepers. Thanks, everybody. Let's dig in. Wow!”

“Make a wish first,” said Letenske.

“Awww, come on . . .”

“Make a wish,” they chanted. “Wish, wish, wish.”

Helen took a deep breath and blew. Fifteen of the twenty candles went out. Five sputtered and burst back into life. They all laughed, realizing the candles came from a joke shop.

The turkey sandwiches were good. Too good. People ate their fill, became sleepy, and began drifting back to their workstations or beds, as was the case with Eddie Bergen.

Helen was still dishing up cake when Sergeant Letenske slithered up. “Thought it over, Major?”

“Thought what over?”

“You know, Louie's.”

“Mel, I know some Marines who would be most happy to take you out back and teach you a lesson.”

Dr. Raduga moved alongside, took a plate of cake, and nonchalantly began eating.

Letenske stood straight. “Send 'em in. I can teach them a few things.”

Brubaker piped up. “Nothing like the lessons Helen learned in Mindanao.”

Letenske's eyes bulged. “Holy crap.”

Helen muttered to Brubaker, “Don't do this.”

“Go fly a kite.” Brubaker turned to Letenske. “Yeah, she was on Mindanao. So watch it, buddy boy. And her husband's a destroyer captain.”

Letenske said to Helen, “Mindanao? I got buddies on Mindanao. When were you there?”

Helen gave a deep sigh. “Okay, I was there. But it was under new management. So I didn't see any of our boys.”

Lentenske's eyebrows went up.

“We were up in the mountains, away from all that.”

“With the resistance?”

“You could say that.”

“You were killing Japs?”

“Well, we needed food.”

“Man, oh, man. I bet you did learn some lessons.”

“They taught us some awful lessons, and then we taught them some awful lessons. Let's just say it wasn't pleasant.”

Letenske put aside his cake and said, “Ma'am. I owe you an apology. I never knew you were there.”

“Actually, nobody is supposed to know.”

“They should.” Letenske reached out and shook her hand. “My uncle Jim,” he went on, “he was at Bataan. The Death March, we think. We don't know.”

“I'm sorry. I was there, too.”
Damn it. Why did I say that?

“Bataan?”

“No, Corregidor.”

“How did you get out?”

“Submarine.”

“My God. Mindanao and Corregidor?”

“No. Corregidor, then Mindanao.”

“Not great tourist spots these days.”

“Just as bad in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy.”

Letenske nodded. “Well, it's over. Maybe we soon find out about Uncle Jim, huh? Excuse me.” He walked over to two young nurses.

Brubaker moved away too, leaving her alone with Dr. Raduga.

She set aside her plate.

“No good?” he asked.

Helen regarded him. He had deep blue eyes. “Well, I had a large slice.”

Raduga took another bite. “My mother is a good cook. She makes this when I'm home. But I think she uses more sugar and . . .” he smacked his lips, “eggs, I think.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“I couldn't help but overhear about your involvement overseas. You had an . . . interesting time.”

“It was awful. Except . . .”

He finished the last bite and picked a crumb from his beard.

“Except I met my husband out there.”

“The destroyer skipper.”

“You have good ears.”

“That's what they pay me for.” His eyebrows went up.

Helen thought it over and panicked. “I have to be getting back.” She made to move away.

“I have eyes too.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When you came in. You looked like you were being stood before a firing squad.”

Helen exhaled. That was how she had felt. “I guess I overreacted.”

“An understatement.”

“What do you know?”

“I don't, but you do.”

She stood silently, her lips pursed.

“You're Eddie Bergen's floor nurse, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“You're doing a great job. He talks a lot about you.”

Go for it
. “Okay, yes. I think something in Eddie Bergen triggered something in me. I'm doing weird things.”

“Such as?”

“Yesterday morning I heard a loud noise and I hyperventilated. The night before, I awoke terrified and crawled under my bed. You're right. When I walked in here I was scared to death. Goosebumps. Hot flash. I wanted to run and hide.” She looked at him. “I think I need help. But I don't want anyone to know. Can you help me?”

“I think so. Make an appointment.”

“With all these POWs coming back, what chance do I have of getting in to see you?”

“I'll put you at the top of the list.”

“You're kidding.”

“This happens to doctors and nurses, believe it or not. It gets to them. It gets to all of us. Nothing to be ashamed of. We need you. We need you healthy so we can all get on with our jobs. You're critical to our success in the psychiatric ward.”

“You're kidding.”

“Go back to your desk and book in with Alice. I'll clear it with her.”

“You'll keep it absolutely secret? Nobody must find out.”

Raduga put a finger to his lips. “Top secret. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“It won't be easy.”

Helen sighed. “I can imagine.”

Dr. Raduga put down his plate. “That was good. Congratulations, Major. Now, go call Alice.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

15–26 August 1945

Tokyo, Japan

K
okutai
. With the A-bombs and the Soviet invasion of Mongolia, the Kuriles, and Karafuto, indecision became rampant in Emperor Hirohito's officer corps and cabinet. Some urged fighting to the last man; others agreed that the end was near, if not upon them, and urged cooperation. Finally the emperor stepped in and influenced his government to accept the surrender terms of the Potsdam Declaration. He won acceptance on 14 August, and on 15 August Hirohito's recorded voice was played over radio station NHK for his subjects and the world to hear. It was an extraordinary measure. No one outside Hirohito's inner circle had ever before heard his voice. But he wanted his subjects to hear the message of surrender directly from him in order to emphasize his acceptance of it.

Near hysteria gripped the nation afterward. Rebels, mostly young officers, hatched implausible plots to take over the government and direct Japan back to fighting to the last man. Either from bushido pride or outright devotion to their emperor, many of the officer corps committed suicide. The most notable suicide took place on 15 August, the day of the emperor's broadcast. Popular Vice Admiral Matome Ugaki, once Admiral Yamamoto's chief of staff, took off in a B5N single-engine torpedo bomber to attack the American fleet off Okinawa. He left behind a suicide message that said “I alone am to blame for our failure to defend the homeland and destroy the arrogant enemy. . . . Long live His Imperial Majesty the Emperor!” Ugaki's plane disappeared to the southeast and was never seen again.

That evening, Admiral Takijiro Onishi, founder of the kamikaze corps, committed seppuku in the classic style at home. He penned a haiku just before he raised the dagger: “Refreshed, I feel like the clear moon after a storm.”

There were several revolts in the palace itself, many of them led by overzealous officers of the rank of major and below. Gunfire broke out. Emperor Hirohito
and his family were sometimes forced to take refuge in their underground bunker. At one time a fire was set. But with great skill, Hirohito's chamberlains, army and navy loyalists, and in some cases the dreaded Kempetai put down the revolts.

Smaller revolts continued outside the palace over the next few days. A glaring example occurred on the afternoon of 22 August when ten young men wearing white
hachimaki
headbands occupied Tokyo's Atago Hill, which lay within sight of the boarded-up American embassy. They called themselves the Sonjo Gigun—the Righteous Group for Upholding Imperial Rule and Driving out Foreigners. In pouring rain they linked arms against approaching police while singing the national anthem. Suddenly they shouted, “
Tenno heika banzai
!” and detonated the hand grenades they had been carrying. The men lay dead, their epitaph written on a suicide note that read, “The cicada rain falls in vain on defeated hills and streams.”

Another insurrection roiled up at Atsugi Airfield, southwest of Tokyo, where General MacArthur was soon scheduled to land and assume his new role as supreme commander. Led by navy captain Ammyo Kosono, the revolt went on for several days to the sounds of “Gunkan Kaigun,” the Imperial Navy's marching song. Kosono's airplanes showered Tokyo with leaflets inciting revolution until loyalist troops arrived from Tokyo and put down the rebellion by force of arms. Several people were killed on both sides. When finally captured, Kosono was completely crazed; he had to be wrestled down and carried off in a straitjacket. With that, all aircraft at Atsugi were defueled, and their propellers were removed to ensure no one as demented as Kosono could again defy the emperor's wishes.