Lost in a Foreign Land

by Douglas Anderson

  The MP directed Shinichi to the chair—a more comfortable chair than the last time—and then left. What? No chain, no handcuffs. What's happening?

  Toshi smiled at him pleasantly. “And how are you Shinichi?” he asked.

  Confused, Shinichi replied; “I am well thank you. Nakamori San.”

  “Good.” Toshi fixed his dark eyes on Shinichi. But, you can forget Nakamori San. If you wish to be respectful, you only need to address me as, Sir. Have you been studying the English phrase book I sent you?

  “Yes… Sir. Thank you.”

  “Good. Shinichi, please bear with me while I talk in considerable length to you. I know how difficult these last few weeks must have been for you. You are young and enthusiastic. One day you are carrying out your duty as a Navy pilot, next you are lost in the wild and unforgiving country for two weeks. You surrender, undoubtedly, against all you have been taught. Then you find yourself in detention, first in Northway and then here. It has undoubtedly been very stressful but I think you have to agree you have been treated well. By the way; do you have any idea where you are?”

  Shinichi absorbed this brief synopsis of events and then answered the question; “No… Sir. But, I believe I am in some part of Northwest America.”

  Toshi took a moment to pour a glass of juice for Shinichi and one for himself.

  “I will explain. You are at McChord Army Corp Camp in the State of Washington. Not too far south of the City of Seattle. McChord is a training camp for Army personnel and they also carry out long range maritime patrols from here.” He smiled, “That's how we knew about Agachi. Oh yes and of course we found your aircraft in the Yukon Territory; Hence the aircraft number. A very lucky crash landing, I understand.”

  “You are a P.O.W.”—he purposely used the acronym in English—“You must surely appreciate that not all POWs are treated as you have been. Your accommodations have been clean, warm and dry and you have been served exactly the same food that everyone on this camp receives.”

  “This is most unusual treatment for a P.O.W. I don't want to castigate you personally in any way but the Japanese are certainly not treating P.O.W. in their camps this way. To the contrary, we have much evidence that thousands of those they have taken prisoner are starving to death or being worked to death in Japanese occupied territory. Even the thousands of Japanese POW in our own camps overseas—despite our code of conduct and compliance with the Geneva Convention—are on meager rations and many are living in hastily prepared camps.” Toshi paused and took a sip of juice before continuing.

  “Even in the few weeks since your unfortunate crash we have taken back territory formerly held by the Japanese and have documentary evidence of the brutality of the Japanese camp commanders. Now, I know not all Japanese are guilty of atrocities, many are simply following orders—as you undoubtedly were—but those who are found guilty of actual war crimes will in due course be identified, captured and punished accordingly.”

  “You may choose not to believe all I tell you, but the Japanese people are not being told the truth about the reason for going to war, or the direction it is going. As I have said, this war will be over before very much longer. True, it may take six months, maybe a year but it will be over and Japan will not—I repeat—will not be the victor.”

  “The leaders in your country will be tried for their crimes committed against humanity and justice will be served, but the ordinary people such as yourself will be the ones left to pick up the pieces—to rebuild the country—revive the shattered industries and to build a democratic society. Yes, it will be have to be a free and self-governing democracy eventually. We Americans have had a number of wars in our short history, but we have never yet attacked a country with expansionism in mind.”

  Shinichi wondered where all this was leading. Was he being told the truth? Was he simply being brainwashed?

  “Shinichi, you may consider yourself a prisoner for the duration—whatever length of time that may be—but when you return home as a free man, this country of mine is determined that you will be better prepared to set a good example and contribute to the success of your nation. Japan, and its hard working, industrious, people have great potential.

  “We are prepared to offer you a unique opportunity while you are a prisoner. While you are our guest I want you to put all thoughts of escape out of your mind. You must think of yourself as being on an important assignment. An assignment so you will be better prepared to help your country when this war ends. Are you following me?”

  Shinichi took a moment to mull over what had been said. “No. Sir. Not entirely. With respect I have to ask, why you are telling me all this? Why am I to be treated so differently to all the other Japanese prisoners you mention? Why don't you send me to join them wherever they may be? Why, am I chosen for an important assignment?”

  Toshi gave Shinichi a level look. “Because Shinichi, because you unknowingly became involved in events of great importance to this country. Also, to this date you are the only Japanese prisoner captured on the North American Continent—the only one. All the others were captured overseas, The Philippines, Burma, Pacific islands, fished out of the ocean. Because of that, it has been decided that you will be given a unique opportunity. As I have said, an assignment to prepare yourself for eventual return home to Japan. It will not be entirely for nothing. We will want you to do something for us in return.” He paused for a moment. “Of course, I can't make you accept. That would be pointless.”

  Shinichi was still suspicious as to Lieutenant Nakamori's intentions. This could be a complicated ruse to get him to cooperate in some way—in order to yield information—something in return—maybe something about Japanese aircraft or the procedures on the aircraft carrier. How could he know what he was being told was the truth? He was aware they lost a few battles and yielded territory, but was Japan really losing the war? Isn't it true they were still gaining ground in Burma? Could he trust this man Nakamori? All these questions buzzed through his head.

  Toshi surprised him with the next question, “How is your mother?

  Shinichi almost broke down. He looked down through teary eyes at his fingers clenched tightly until the knuckles were white, and replied “I have no way of knowing. I told you, she was not well when I left Japan. For all I know she could have died.”

  When he raised his eyes there was an envelope on the desk-top in front of him. It had his name on it and he could tell immediately that it was his mother's fine hand. His wristwatch was also lying there.

  Toshi said quietly; “Shinichi, I think you will find your mother and father are quite well and your wife Masako too for that matter. Now, I ask that you place your trust in me and the plan for your immediate future. Maybe this will reassure you. Go ahead—read your mothers letter—I will leave you alone and when you are ready you can join me in the office two doors along the passage.” Nakamori indicated to the left out of the door.

  Shinichi was flabbergasted, he was absolutely certain he had never mentioned Masako's name in his answers to any of the questions. He was absolutely certain of that fact.

  Shinichi sat alone, and with shaking hands, picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. It was not sealed. Inside was a single page in his mother's unmistakable writing. It was brief, but all too clear; Life was difficult for them at present and there were many shortages to contend with. Both she and his father are keeping well. Don't worry about Masako, her pregnancy is going well and we will take care of her in your absence. We worry about you all the time and our thoughts are with you—wherever you are. The content was a bit stilted but without question it was his mothers writing.

  Then there was the news about Masako. Shinichi sat there and fought back tears of relief and joy. They were okay. Masako was expecting a child. She was carrying their child.

  How could Nakamori possibly have obtained information about his mother and father and Masako? They were in a small coastal town in Japan that most people would not have heard of. Shinichi himself could not
have gotten this information in such a short span of time, even if he had been free to try. Who was this Toshi Nakamori and what kind of resources did he have at his disposal—in Japan—in order to glean information, to track down Shinichi's parents and obtain this letter? And, all of this was achieved in the space of three weeks since his last face-to-face interview. It was all beyond comprehension.

  It was fully fifteen minutes before Shinichi felt enough in control of his emotions to go down the passage, his mind purged of any doubts that Lieutenant Nakamori was indeed being truthful with him.

  Nakamori was waiting. “Now young man, let's see if you are prepared to go forward with our plan.” Without hesitation he proceeded to outline some of it to Shinichi—just enough information to heighten his interest.

  Chapter Twelve:

  To a New Abode

  Three days later Shinichi was sitting on his bunk waiting. It was almost six-thirty in the morning and only just getting light outside. He had a small travel bag packed with his few possessions. A couple of days ago he had been supplied with some quite fashionable clothes in place of the drab attire he had been living in for weeks. It was notable that his door had never been locked during the daytime since his last discussion with Lieutenant Nakamori. However, he had been told not to go unescorted outside of the building and he abided by that rule.

  Promptly at six o'clock one of the MPs had arrived at Shinichi's cell with a tray of food and a mug of coffee.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nakamori pushed open the door and said, in English; “Good morning, Shinichi. Are you ready to start your latest adventure?”

  Shinichi replied; “Yes. Sir.”

  “Come now, Shinichi. You really should start using that English you have been working on. Not even a good morning greeting for me?”

  “Good morning, Sir,” said Shinichi obediently.

  “That's more like it.” English again.

  So that's it. Nakamori is going to make sure I use the English language, thought Shinichi.

  “I see you are ready. Let's go.”

  There were no restrains. Shinichi picked up his bag and followed

  Nakamori and another man—who was introduced as Edwards—along the corridor and out of the building to where a large, military green, four door, automobile—Shinichi thought of it as a Staff Car—was parked with the engine idling. It was apparent now that the other man was the driver. He took Shinichi's bag and put it in the trunk then Shinichi was directed to the front passenger seat while Toshi climbed into the spacious rear seat. He was surprised by this. Surely higher rank people sat up front.

  Toshi noticed his hesitation and said, in Japanese; “It's okay. It will give you an opportunity to see a little of our fair country. So far you have only seen the northern wilderness. You will find it very different here. Besides,” he added with a feigned threatening tone in his voice. “This way I can shoot you if you try to leap out of a speeding vehicle. Hah!”

  Shinichi took the front seat, not quite knowing if Nakamori was serious. As soon as the vehicle moved he realized something was different. He was seated on the wrong side and they were driving on the right hand side of the road.

  The vehicle moved powerfully around a narrow road skirting part of the base. It was light enough now so he could see there was a beautifully maintained expanse of grass and a paved runway. Parked near some hangers were several airplanes. Shinichi's keen eyes noted some were amphibious, flying boats with a huge high wing and twin radial engines. They must be the long-range patrol aircraft—the ones they called PBY's—the like of which tagged his ship departing the Gulf of Alaska.

  The driver headed south. Shinichi noticed immediately there was a big difference between the northland and here. The highway was smoothly paved and the coniferous trees each side were very tall. It was fairly level terrain for twenty miles or so then there was water, maybe a large lake or the ocean to the right. Then he saw many cargo ships at anchor and some tied up by docks where there was a veritable forest of crane booms. Obviously it was the ocean.

  Toshi spoke from the behind. “That's the ocean port of Tacoma. Sounds almost like a Japanese name. Doesn't it? But, it's actually a native Indian name.”

  Continuing south the highway was level for a while then entered hilly country. In the early morning with mist burning off, Shinichi thought it looked much like some areas of his homeland—except the trees were somewhat larger. Here and there he saw whole hillsides stripped clear and large trucks loaded with huge logs were traveling on the highway. Forestry was obviously one of the main industries in this area. Nakamori explained that was indeed the case.

  Two and a half hours of fast motoring brought them to a bridge over a large river. Just south of the bridge lay a sizable city. Portland, said a roadside sign.

  Nakamori had pointed out a few places of interest before. Now he explained; “That was the Columbia River we crossed. It defines the border between Washington State and Oregon State. The city you see over there is Portland.”

  “We need to make a pit-stop for a few minutes soon. I think we will find a road side café where we can have coffee. Ah! Edwards, there's a place now—let's try that.”

  The driver pulled over onto a gravel space in front of a rustic old building and they entered.

  “We will sit at the booth over there. Edwards will be glad to order us a snack and drinks—How about a slice of apple pie? You must be hungry too even though it's not been too long since breakfast. If you need to go to the washroom, Edwards will escort you. Just to make sure there is no problem, you understand.” Shinichi noticed Nakamori spoke Japanese in lowered tones.

  Shinichi understood. Maybe they didn't want him to flee. They didn't need to worry about that. He had already made up his mind to find out what this grandiose plan was all about as Meanwhile, he was feeling that he stuck out like a sore thumb. He noticed several people looking his way, but took comfort in the fact that uniformed Nakamori looked equally Japanese. He had yet to realize that Americans came in all shapes, sizes and from many ethnic origins, even Japanese. Not like Japan where most people were somewhat similar in appearance.

  After a couple of minutes a young waitress came and placed three cups on the table and a small jug of cream then poured coffee in each cup. None of the ritualistic stuff like there was in Japan. “Your pie will be here in just a couple of minutes.”

  Toshi said; “Thank you,” as she poured his coffee and then gave Shinichi, sitting opposite, a pointed glance. Shinichi taking the hint, nodded and thanked her too when his coffee cup was filled. His Japanese American mentor smiled approvingly. He was gradually goading his ‘student’ to use the little English that he knew.

  Snack and toiletries completed. Toshi paid the bill for all three and they were on their way. Flat land swept by for a while then rolling forested hills and occasional patches of verdant farmland with cattle grazing. Just how far were they going? He bravely decided to try a little English. Mulling it over in his mind first, he asked;

  “How far?” He pointed ahead.

  Toshi was obviously pleased and Edwards looked surprised. He hadn't heard Shinichi speak a word of English so far except the ‘thank you’ in the cafe.

  “That's good, Shinichi, very good. More correctly; How far do we have to go?”

  “What's the answer to that, Edwards?”

  Edwards checked the instrument panel and said with exaggerated clarity; “We have traveled two hundred and twenty-two miles. We have one hundred and seventy miles to go.”

  Shinichi was totally confused by all those long words. However, Toshi had been writing the questions and answers on a piece of paper which he passed forward; “Here, that will keep you busy for a while.” He translated the written words occasionally to help Shinichi on his way.

  Shinichi spent the next twenty miles trying to figure it out and practice the pronunciation of those long, complicated numbers. Then he faced a barrage of simple English questions and answers. It helped pass the time and Shinichi was qu
ite surprised how much he really knew.

  They were passing through beautiful country. Shinichi really didn't know where they were, except it was some place in the State of Oregon. The two lane highway now had poorer sections, so they could not travel quite so fast. Rarely was there a straight or level section and the road swooped down long curves, climbed up steep grades and around hair-pin bends. Traffic was heavy in some places and they were forced to follow slower traffic on occasion. They passed through several small towns, other times they traveled a fair distance with sparse habitation. From the high points, there were expansive views over miles and miles of forested hills.

  However, the seating was comfortable, it was warm and Shinichi eventually couldn't stop his eye-lids from falling shut. He dozed intermittently until he sensed the vehicle slowing and turning off the highway toward the entrance of restaurant in one of the small towns. Nakamori had decided it was time for another pit-stop.

  They didn't spend any longer than was necessary. Edwards had a burger with fries and Toshi order the liver and onion lunch special with mashed potato for himself and Shinichi. Now Shinichi found out what that tasty white creamy stuff was that he had with his stolen meal on the remote highway. They called it Mashed Potato. Edwards excused himself and went to buy fuel for the ‘staff car.’ When he returned, they were soon on the road again. Shinichi was feeling he wouldn't need to eat again for quite some time.

  Shinichi stayed awake for the rest of the journey. It was an interesting ride with spectacular views of some snow-capped mountain peaks to the south and west. The highway followed the contours of the land and at one place there was a seriously long down-grade. Nakamori was asleep by this time, but Edwards told Shinichi; “Grants Pass” then pointed to the large mountain almost directly ahead; “Mount Shasta, California.”

  An hour after negotiating the pass they turned into the entrance of Camp White.

  Arrangements were already in place for their arrival. Obviously, Shinichi could not simply be thrown in the general camp to mingle with all the servicemen. The guard on the gate was aware they would be arriving and directed them to a cluster of buildings on the north side somewhat separate from the others. Two vehicles were parked in front of one building, an open Jeep and a ‘staff car’ and Edwards pulled into a space along side.