Forgiveness (13 page)

The letter said that her family could stay together if they went to the sugar-beet work camps on the prairies. Mitsue took the letter to her parents’ house. They had received a similar letter just the day before. For the final time, they all sat in the living room of the Celtic row house—this time to make the most important decision of their lives. In the end there wasn’t much to decide. They had to stay together. It was the only thing that mattered.

Pat was livid. How could this be happening to them? They had done nothing wrong. They were all Canadian. But Yosuke was prepared. He looked each family member in the eye in turn. He looked at these people who were close to his heart and whispered: “
Shikata-ga-nai.
” It can’t be helped. He whispered it so they would listen closely.

And that was that. They would have to do their best and cling to their dignity.
Shikata-ga-nai.
Mitsue repeated the words in her head over and over. She had heard the phrase before, but on that
terrible day it felt like the finest gift she had ever received. If you can’t help it, you have to survive it.

That night after dinner, they filled out the request form to stay together as a family. They would try to go to southern Alberta. Hideo took both replies to the post office the very next morning. The forms went to the Security Commission for the government to decide. Their fate was no longer in their own hands.

The fields of Alberta were empty. The men had all gone off to fight. The war had cut off the sugar supply from Southeast Asia and the government had to ration sugar consumption, so Alberta farmers started to grow sugar beets. It was hard work and the province had too few workers to do it. The Japanese were their only option. Alberta begrudgingly accepted them.

While the Sakamotos waited to find out their fate, life went on as usual. Of course, the evacuation was always on everyone’s mind like a bad headache, leaving them feeling hollowed out.

Mitsue tried her best to focus on the tasks at hand as she waited to see if her family would be permitted to stay together. The men in the rooming house still needed their three square meals. The bedding still needed to be washed, and the ironing and cleaning had to be done. For the next few weeks Mitsue went back to work. Hideo went back to the lumberyard. He thought he might as well earn some money in B.C. while he was able.

Mitsue didn’t like to be left alone. Powell Street didn’t feel safe anymore. She half expected a brick to come crashing through the window. But they were going to need the money. She was left with Wari to manage the house. Since Wari was unwell that week, Mitsue ended up working especially hard as she packed up as much as she could in preparation for their evacuation date.

Finally, the wait was over. The Security Commission granted passage to southern Alberta to Yosuke, Tomi, Pat, Mary, and Susanne. They’d be on two farms in Coaldale.

Nobody had any idea where Coaldale was. They tried to look it up on various maps of Canada, but it was too small to be included.
Coaldale.
Mitsue said it in her mind a few times. It didn’t sound like a very nice place. But at least they would be together. They actually felt lucky. Almost grateful.

The fog of confusion had begun to lift, but the reality was painful. Mitsue went to her parents’ house to talk about what they would take to Coaldale. Susanne was in her bedroom crying. She had just started at Point Grey Junior High and had been elected vice-president of her class. Teachers and children alike recognized her keen intellect. When the order came, none of her teachers had asked her about her fate. Susanne wondered what was behind their indifference. Her school friends seemed unaware of what was happening to her. Just before the order came, she was to have gone into the city with her class to see the
Ice Capades.
She was in the schoolyard as everyone boarded the bus.

“Why aren’t you coming, Susanne?”

“I can’t. I have a curfew.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m Japanese.”

They couldn’t understand. Neither could she.

Susanne had known for some time that her days at school were numbered. She was determined to continue her education in Alberta. A few days after the order came, she went to see the counsellor for a transfer slip. No questions were asked, and the counsellor barely looked at her as she signed the paper. Susanne left, clutching that form like it was gold. It would allow her to continue school wherever she ended up. That done, she went to Miss McKillop, her history teacher, and told her that she had to leave. Miss McKillop just stood up and told the class that Susanne was moving away. That was it. Susanne said goodbye and, as her classmates looked on, she left, feeling like an enemy alien. She walked down the empty hall with tears pooling in her eyes. What were her classmates thinking? Why were they silent?
Why didn’t anyone say something? Their silence left her with an uneasy sadness.

Yosuke and Tomi were devastated to see Susanne’s studies interrupted. It was, to them, the worst theft possible. Susanne read anything and everything. She loved to learn; she took in new knowledge like Pat took in fish from the sea.

Mitsue was supposed to go home on account of the curfew, but she was trying her best to console Susanne, so she decided to stay the night. It was the first time she had slept in her old house since she got married. After dinner, she helped Mary with the dishes while Yosuke and Tomi spoke with Susanne in the living room. Susanne finally went to bed.

As the dishes dried, Mitsue watched her parents hugging outside Susanne’s bedroom. They were both crying. Education was the most important thing they could give their children. It was their only way forward, their only way up. But now their little girl, the most intellectually gifted of their children, was being robbed of her chance. Yosuke believed that the only thing that couldn’t be taken away was what you put in your mind.

On her way home the next morning, Mitsue stopped at a store to order the boxes they needed to take their things to the prairies. The boxes were wood, about three feet by two feet, and no more than three feet high. Some stores in Little Tokyo were only selling boxes now—that’s all anyone wanted. Boxes and food. Each person was only allowed to bring 150 pounds, which added up fast. The government suggested packing blankets, a sewing machine, and cooking supplies. That was close to 150 pounds right there.

Scarcity leads to tough decisions. Should they take family albums or extra rice? Letters from family in Japan or an extra blanket? They were in survival mode and didn’t have the luxury of being sentimental. You couldn’t eat pictures, and letters wouldn’t keep you warm on a cold winter night unless you burned them. They packed up the belongings they were leaving behind and took them to the Japanese centre. Each family was allowed a small storage area. Every
last picture they had was packed into boxes, along with family heirlooms and letters. They put their kimonos into boxes too. Yosuke and Pat packed their fishing nets. What they needed to survive came with them. But their hearts were put away and stacked in the Japanese centre. It was an appropriate place to house their hearts.

Once each family had filled their allotted area with what they were leaving behind, the men of Celtic came to board up the building and lock it up. It wasn’t until they put a chain along the front door that the families understood this was a goodbye. Those families on Celtic Lane—the Osekis, the Nakamuras, the Uyedas, the Ishikawas, the Nagatas, the Yamamotos, the Endos, the Omotanis, the Adachis, the Kadonagas, the Yoshiharas, the Shintanis, the Mikis, the Minamimayes, the Yasudas, the Charas, the Kanos, the Marumotos, the Yamashitas, the Shintanis—were one extended family. They gathered for a final photo before leaving.

Yosuke locked up the family house. Mitsue went back to the boarding house to help Wari pack up. Hideo and Hanpei were boarding up the windows. So many buildings in Little Tokyo were like that by then, boarded up and empty. They packed what was
needed into the boxes that Mitsue had ordered. Hideo carefully nailed each one closed. Mitsue had made sure to get at least one that had a tin lining so they could take rice, since they were not sure if they’d be able to get rice once they reached the prairies. Hideo had to help Mitsue pour bag after bag of rice into that box. He wrote
Sakamoto
in Japanese kanji characters on each box.

Mitsue did take one thing for herself, though. She just couldn’t leave her wedding pictures behind. After Wari and Hanpei went to bed, she hid the photos, folded up in blankets to keep them safe and sound. Mitsue told Hideo what she had done and he didn’t say a word. He just walked over to the box, put the lid on, and nailed it shut. Then he smiled and went back to his own packing.

Ralph clung to the side of the hill. He took one last look back at his rifle and dropped his knife.

Scanning the trees, he peeked over the cliff and saw five men standing up. One man’s shirt was completely blood soaked and he held his right shoulder with his bloodied left hand.

They were out of options. A megaphone from across the valley made that clear. “The war is over. I give you safe passage to surrender. Do not die.”

Ralph and the rest of the Canadians emerged with their hands in the air and followed the sound of the megaphone down the hill. As the enemy came into view, the Canadians were astonished. The Japanese had moved in under cover of darkness. The fight had been thirteen against three hundred.

Two very young-looking Japanese soldiers ordered Ralph and six other men to line up against a rock wall and to stand in place with bayonets pointed at their faces. Both soldiers had fresh blood on them. Japanese soldiers were everywhere. Many stopped and gave the Canadians a hard look.

The commander stood atop a small mound. He still had the megaphone in his left hand. He stared at the men for some time,
then drew his katana sword. He took slow, short steps towards the prisoners, never once breaking eye contact with them.

Three Japanese soldiers all had their guns drawn. Their backs to the wet rock wall, each Canadian watched the bayonets closely, knowing the Japanese would save their bullets. The commander stood three feet in front of them, gripping his sword. He went down the line, asking each for his name and rank. Ralph was the last in line.

“Ralph Augustus MacLean, Lance Corporal, E30382.”

“Where are you men coming from?”

Nobody responded, prompting the commander to raise his sword to his waist. The curved blade caught the light through the trees.

“Palm Villa,” someone down the line said. “We were based out of Palm Villa.”

This brought a smile to the commander’s face, which in turn left a knot in the stomach of each of the seven men. They knew very well what his smile meant.

The commander looked over his shoulder and gave an order in Japanese. He was through with these men. He sheathed his blade, turned, and made his way into his tent. The three guards and their bayonets stayed put.

With nothing more for the Canadians to do or say, exhaustion took over. Too weary to care, Ralph leaned against the rock wall and promptly fell asleep. He had barely closed his eyes in three whole days.

He awoke to a guard tying his wrists with barbed wire. He was ordered to his feet and told to move. The other men, tied to one another, were moving now too.

And so began the march. They made their way down a long and winding trail that cut through the heavy brush overgrowth. The men walked in single file with their hands out in front of them. They were careful to stay as even as possible; any jerking action caused the barbed wire to cut deep and elicited groans down the whole line.
The situation was difficult for the soldier who had taken shrapnel across his right shoulder. The others tried to keep him alert and on his feet. The guards would yell bloody murder if the men slowed down, stumbled, or spoke. They let their bayonets do most of the talking—raising them to face level whenever there was a missed step or when a groan slipped out.

Three miles down the trail, the front guard belted out “Halt!” as he turned and raised his right hand. All the men stopped. He lowered his hand and ordered the men to sit down on the side of the trail. They tried their best to do so, but the wounded man’s legs buckled, sending him sprawling while the other six grimaced in pain. Ralph felt delirious. He had not had any food since the two bites of corned beef days earlier. He had not had any water since then either. The men looked at each other. They were all thinking about water. The white spit at the corners of their mouths betrayed their desperate thirst.

As they looked around, one of them gestured with his chin across the trail. Five men, hands tied together with barbed wire exactly as they were, lay slumped over. Each had a bayonet gash to the stomach. Their deaths must have been slow and horrific. Even in death, their faces could not hide their torment. It was as if they were still screaming. Some eyes were open, some were shut. Ralph scanned them, looking for a familiar face, dreading that he’d see one. His companions all thought the same thing at the same time. Were they about to be stabbed to death?