Silent Honor (25 page)

“But not here, sweetheart,” he chided her. “Later.” But all his good intentions were usually rapridly forgotten, they went nowhere. He lay in the grass with her, and lost sight of everything except his insatiable desire for her, his endless love, and the wonders of her body. “I'm worse than a kid,” he laughed as they strolled back to her stall again. But it was the only moment of the day when they were both transported beyond reality, beyond the fears and terrible rumors of what was coming. He was leaving in three weeks and there was still constant talk about where they would all be sent, who would go where, and if they would be safe there.

And a week after their little ceremony, when Peter came to the camp, he was stopped at the gate, and asked to stop at the administration building. He was sure that the old priest had told the guards something. He tried to appear calm as he went inside, and asked if there was a problem. They wanted to know why he came to visit so often, who he had dealings with and why. They wanted to know his political views, and asked to see identification.

Peter showed them everything he had, and his identification from the university, which attested to the fact that he was a full professor. He explained that Takeo Tanaka had worked with him, first as his boss and then as his assistant. And he explained also that he would be leaving for the army soon, and it was important that together they complete the program. He said he needed Tak's help to complete everything to the university's satisfaction before he went into the army in two weeks. But no matter how good his story was, they kept him there for three hours, explaining, describing the program to them. They were impressed by Stanford, of course, but they were particularly interested in the fact that he taught political science. And in the end, the only thing that saved him, he thought, was the fact that in two weeks he was leaving for the army. Whatever threat, or annoyance, he posed, it wouldn't be there for much longer.

And before he left the administration building that afternoon, he tried to find out where and when Hiroko and her cousins were being moved. The man he'd spoken to said he had no idea, that a dozen camps were being set up throughout the western states, but that for the moment they weren't ready. The evacuees would be there for a while yet. But unfortunately, Peter wouldn't.

“Don't feel so bad for them,” the lieutenant said to him confidentially. “They're just a bunch of Japs. Your guy may be a smart one, but believe me, most of them aren't. Half of them can't even speak English.”

Peter nodded, pretending to be sympathetic to him, but said that he'd heard most of them were Americans.

“If you can call them that. They've got all this garbage about issei, nisei, who's born where. The fact is they're Japs, and you can't trust ‘em to be loyal to this country. Watch out for them,” he warned, “your guy too. I guess you'll be glad to join the army.” He smiled, unaware of how wrong he was. But Peter was immensely relieved when he was allowed to leave and join the Tanakas and Hiroko, who had worried about him all afternoon. But when he told them all about it, he could see from Hiroko's eyes that she'd been frightened, and he shook his head imperceptibly at her to reassure her. The guards knew nothing about them. That night, when he slipped away with her, the grass was damp and the ground cold, but they had never felt as much passion for each other. Each of them had been terrified they'd lose the other. For a moment, sitting there that afternoon, he'd thought they would tell him he could no longer visit. He had never been so grateful in his life as when he left the guard room.

And as she lay breathless in his arms, devouring him, he knew that she had felt the same terror.

“How am I ever going to leave you?” he asked unhappily. He could hardly stand to be away from her for a night now. It was going to be nightmarish when he left, and the army had just changed his orders. He was only stopping briefly at Ford Ord, and then going on to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for training. He'd been right, he was going to Europe, and he wouldn't be back in California before he left. All they had were the next two weeks together, and after that a lifetime of prayers until it was over.

She couldn't leave him that night, nor he her, they had been too terrified that afternoon, and this time when they finally returned to the stall, they looked drained and worried as Takeo watched them. He knew how hard it was going to be for Peter to leave her, and it was already starting to take its toll. But there was nothing anyone could do to help them. And they hugged again, and then silently Tak turned and went to bed, leaving Peter and Hiroko their last few moments together.

And by the following week, General De Witt announced proudly that the removal of a hundred thousand persons of Japanese ancestry from Military Area Number One had been completed. Ten thousand of them were at Tanforan, and they still had absolutely no clue as to where they were going.

Peter had left Stanford by then, and even the battles of Corregidor and Midway didn't interest him. All he could think of now was Hiroko. He had one week left, and he wanted to spend every possible minute of it with her. And fortunately for them, no one interrogated or stopped him again. He left his car far from the gate, and always came in on foot, looking bland and unassuming. He drew no attention to himself, and the lieutenant thought he was his friend now. But Peter managed to spend as many as eighteen hours a day at the camp with Hiroko, and sometimes twenty.

And when no one was looking, she fingered her gold ring, and remembered the day of their wedding. But no matter how tightly they clung, or how many times he said he loved her, or she him, the moment came. The last day, the final night, the last hour. She lay in his arms for hours that night, looking up at the stars, thinking of where he would be, and the memories they had to hold on to. He was leaving for Fort Ord in the morning. There were no words left by the time he walked her back to the stall where she lived with her cousins. The others had gone to bed by then, but Tak was waiting for them. He wanted to say goodbye to him. Peter had been like a brother to him.

“Take care of yourself.” Peter said hoarsely to Takeo, barely able to say good-bye as they embraced. The moment was just too painful. “It'll be all over soon. I'll let you know how to write to me,” he said, wanting to encourage him to hang on, and not sure how to do it. It had been easy to see in the past month how disheartened Takeo had become. If he hadn't had his family, he would have broken.

“You too, Peter, stay safe. For all our sakes.” Peter looked down at Hiroko, who was crying softly. She had cried all afternoon, all night. She had tried so hard to be strong for him, but she couldn't do it. And neither could Peter. As he stood at the end of the row with her, he held her in his arms, and they both cried. Everyone had gone to bed by then, and there was no one to watch them, and by then, Hiroko was sobbing softly.

“I'll
be back, Hiroko. Just know that. No matter what happens, or where you are, I'll be there when this is over.”

“So will I,” she said staunchly. She knew, as young as she was, that he was the only man she would ever love. And she was his now. “I am yours forever, Peter-san,” she said, repeating the words of their wedding.

“Take care of yourself, please God …take care, I love you,” he said, holding her for one last time, and kissing her as their tears mingled on their cheeks.
“Genki de gambatte,”
she said softly, slowly regaining her composure. “Stay well with all your might.” He had heard the phrase a lot recently and knew what she was saying.

“You too, little one. Just remember how much I love you.”

“I love you too, Peter-san,” she said, and then bowed low to him as slowly, he walked away.

They let him out the gate, and she stood there and watched him. She stood there for as long as she could see him. And then she walked slowly back to her stall, where she lay in her clothes, on the straw, thinking of Peter, and each moment they had shared. It seemed impossible that he was gone, that they were here, that this was the end, and not the beginning. She hoped it wouldn't be…. He had to come back to her…. He had to live…. She murmured the words of a Buddhist prayer as she lay there, and Takeo tried not to hear her.

Chapter 12

T
HE WEEKS
after Peter left were exquisitely painful for Hiroko. She went through the motions of activity every day. She stood in line, but seldom ate. She cleaned their stall. She helped carry endless buckets of water. She showered when the water was hot and Reiko told her to. And she played with Tami. But her mind was gone, her soul, her life, her husband. And no one knew he was even that. They thought he was their friend, her boyfriend. Only Reiko suspected how much more he had been. She had been watching them for weeks, and she was afraid that Hiroko would get sick now, from pining for him. Her entire being seemed to be entwined in Peter's. She asked her to work in the infirmary with her, to keep her busy. And they needed help. Ten thousand people had at least as many ailments. There were sore throats and colds, and injuries, stomach ailments, and a constant flow of new cases of measles. There was whooping cough, and old people with heart disease and pleurisy, and several times a week there were emergency operations. There were minimal supplies and medicines, but they had some of the best doctors and nurses in San Francisco, all of whom had been evacuated with them. They had been no more exempt than anyone else, and all they could do now was practice with what was available to them. But at least the infirmary kept Hiroko busy.

She heard from Peter several times. He was in training in Fort Dix, but she scarcely knew more than that. Two of his letters arrived completely blacked out by censors. All she could read was “my darling” and at the very end, “I love you. Peter.” The rest was gone, and she couldn't even begin to guess what he had told her. She wrote to him as well, and wondered if the same thing had happened to her letters.

Her birthday came and went in July, and the anniversary of the date she had come to the States. The little vegetable garden the woman had planted in the next row had begun to grow, and someone had started both a knitting club and a glee club. There was boxing now, and sumo wrestling, and several softball teams. There were lots of activities for the children, and religious groups mainly for the women. And once, Hiroko had run into the old Buddhist priest who had secretly married her to Peter. She had smiled at him, and he bowed, but they said nothing to each other.

And still there was no word of when they were leaving. They knew that some people had been sent to a camp called Manzanar in northern California, but most of the evacuees in Tanforan had gone nowhere.

At the end of August, the Germans laid siege to Stalingrad, and by then Hiroko had caught the dysentery that affected everyone. She was working in the infirmary, but there was never enough medicine, and week by week she got thinner. Reiko worried about her, but she said that she felt fine, and stomach ailments were so ordinary in camp that the doctors paid no attention to her. Still, it worried Reiko to see her look so pale and obviously feel so poorly, but there was nothing they could do about it. And Takeo hadn't been well either. He had had pains in his chest more than once. Most of the time he said nothing about it, but on one occasion he had had to go he down in their stall. And after Peter left, he always seemed quiet and disheartened. More than anything, he was lonely and had no one to talk to. He had no interest in joining any of the clubs that were proliferating. He kept mostly to himself, and the only one he seemed to want to talk to, other than his wife, was Hiroko.

“You miss him terribly, child, don't you?” he asked one day, and she nodded. It had taken every ounce of strength she had just to put one foot in front of the other since June. Without Peter, there was nothing to live for. And all she could do now was listen to the echoes of her memories and dream of the future. The present held nothing for her. It was empty.

In September, he wrote and told her he was in England, and there were rumors of something big coming up soon, and he'd let her know as soon as he was transferred. All they had for him now was an APO box, and in the next several weeks, his letters to Hiroko became less and less frequent. She wondered, with terror, if the letters would ever find her, if and when they moved her.

Day after day she went to the infirmary, and the combination of monotony and fear was killing. They still didn't know if they'd be separated from their families, or even their children. But at least for the moment, as they waited, things seemed peaceful.

Reiko even had her assisting with their minor surgeries. She was good at it, and the doctors liked her. And the only tragedy was when they lost a ten-year-old-boy during an appendectomy, simply because they didn't have the right instruments or medication. It had depressed Reiko and Hiroko terribly, and the next morning, when she had to go to work, Hiroko was so ill with stomach problems that she couldn't go. But more than anything, she couldn't bear the thought of another child dying, or seeing another operation.

Instead, during the morning, she helped Tami make another dollhouse. They'd been working on it for a while, but it was difficult without the materials or tools, and it was taking forever. And the other one she'd had at home had been so pretty. Tami always looked wistful when she compared them.

Takeo agreed to watch Tami that afternoon, and out of a sense of responsibility, Hiroko went back to the infirmary to help Reiko. And her cousin was pleased to see her.

“I thought we'd lost you forever.” She smiled. It had been a rough day for Hiroko the day before, and she knew it.

“I just couldn't take it again.” And she certainly looked ill. Much of what they ate was spoiled, and everyone got sick frequently, mostly with food poisoning, and some with ulcers.

“Just take it easy. Why don't you roll bandages for us today?” Reiko suggested, giving her plenty of work to do, and Hiroko was grateful not to have to tackle anything more upsetting.