Aokie was a good navigator if not much of a human being. He kept the time and the “dead reckoning fix” as he made them. This means the almost exact daily position is clearly marked. I don’t have a watch but no matter. I’m not dealing in exacts here so I won’t really need one. Using the average distance plotted it looks to me as though we are still about a month away. My only real problem will be if the winds change from northwest to the prevailing southeast. Aokie said the favoring winds to Fiji would change in ninety days. That will give us plenty of time, barring some aberration in the weather.
When I put the chart back, I saw some manuscripts written in Japanese. There was one in English, though, that was obviously meant for MacArthur and Roosevelt. I took what was left of the afternoon studying it. I can’t say there was much there he hadn’t told me. But reading it was somehow different than hearing about it. I saw it as even more of a threat to the American people if that was possible. And it served to allay my feelings that I might have made a mistake in doing away with him.
Recall, Aokie chose Fiji over the Solomon’s even though the Solomon’s were much closer. It was because of the expected change in wind direction and because the new winds would be moisture laden. That solved the problem of drinking water but opened up the possibility of some severe weather. I had been expecting a change for some weeks but never said anything to Tash. The raft was well built, seaworthy. But would it be easy to handle in heavy seas? The lateen sail was easy to strike if a squall came up unannounced. But how would the raft ride the waves? I still had all of the water filled coconuts, and I remembered what Aokie said about replacing the drinking water with seawater. He said there wouldn’t be time if the coconuts might be needed for a sea anchor. He meant we would need them to slow our forward progress as we slid down wave after wave. If we didn’t, the bow would not lift. It would be buried and the oncoming water would wash us away. I had read someplace where yachts caught in heavy seas sometimes turned around, and using a sea anchor approached the oncoming waves with their stern sections. When I mentioned this to Aokie back at the island, he explained that our bow was shaped pretty much the same as our stern, so we would be no better off. The only thing that would save us is a sea anchor to slow our slide into a trough.
I was getting lonesome again. I recognized the symptoms, you know, talking to Joyce and Gene as I had a few months back. But it came as no surprise when I saw Joyce while practicing transcendental meditation again for the first time in a long time. Tash was at the tiller and would be for another three hours. I welcomed the familiar experience, the pleasure of which had receded to the back of my mind. But the concentration necessary to bring it about would have been prohibited by the presence of the two Japanese.
But I wasn’t going to miss Aoki. But I would have Tashima if he had been pushed overboard. Tash never meant me any harm and as far as I know not anybody else either. I like to think of him as just another soldier caught up in a war not of his making, and a soldier who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I look on him now with a kind of fondness that I didn’t think was possible before I landed on the island. And to tell you the truth, his friendship opened my eyes about people. You can’t generalize; they are not all the same, not even the Imperialists who believe Hirohito is a god. It’s a simple concept but hard to accept, even when you know that generalizations are illogical.
Most educated people understand this but if I might be allowed one more generalization it might be that many people have preconceived ideas, fostered by the stated conclusions of others, and for sure the press. Rarely is any conclusion the result of schooling or any kind of scientific investigation on their part. Actually, I remember it being discussed in school and being labeled a form of false reasoning. It is illogical to lump anything together and to state as fact that something is true or false, because one sample says it is. I know this, but I wanted to believe that all Japanese living in Japan were wicked and enemies of the United States, because of the actions of the minority of their race. Never mind that this minority had convinced the majority to think as they did. But in wartime, the majority often suffers for the misdeeds of the minority.
But, anyway, Tashima changed my mind. And the evil Aokie, well, regardless of how successful Aoki’s horrible plan might still be it will have no affect on my regards for Tashima. And after thinking about it for a while there must be some way to keep in touch with him. Maybe give him Joyce’s address or Gene’s mother or my own mother. Something permanent. Lord knows he will not have one of his own for years to come.
After several more weeks at sea, the major storm I expected never materialized. Squalls there were in abundance but they only served to furnish us with fresh water. It seems that when my coconut supply started getting low and I began to worry it clouded up and rained for as long as a full day. The early part washed most of the collected salt from the sail and the rest of the water collected was clean with only the smallest amount of salt remaining.
The flying fish cooperated by flying onto the deck as they had from the beginning of the voyage. I was getting tired of them but I was never hungry. I realized, however, that we were soon going to need fresh vegetables. We needed vegetables or fruits or we were going to come down with scurvy. We still had some citrus left but we were scraping the bottom of the barrel. For the past few weeks, I had been rationing us against the first signs. Indeed, I was very afraid of my hair and teeth falling out. I remembered Nordhoff and Hall, the two American aviators from World War One, who collaborated on two seafaring historical adventures about the South Pacific. They wrote about scurvy and it’s harm to the human body in both Mutiny on The Bounty and Men Against The Sea, as did Robert Louis Stevenson who wrote Treasure Island.
I recalculated the distance to Fiji from my estimated dead reckoning position of last week and estimated the new sighting date as one week hence. I spent most of this morning figuring and refiguring, and barring any real mistake in Aokie’s daily progress estimate it still came out as one more week. That is the first of the islands will be sighted. I expect to run into a fishing boat that will take us aboard. My problem then will be to talk them into taking me direct to the main island where the American and New Zealand base is located. I don’t think I’ll have any real problem convincing the captain of how important it is to get Aokie’s writings about the 1-400 submarine and other diabolical schemes into the hands of authorities in Washington.
We had been at sea more than the estimated week and still no sightings of land. But I’m not really worried. Maybe we will miss Fiji but I don’t foresee the possibility of missing the entire island chain. Maybe I would if I had not been zeroed in on the key star in the constellation that Aokie showed me, and had I not been following the same course by compass during the day.
This morning, I saw my first native fishing boat. I saw it but they never saw me, too low in the water I guess. But we must be getting closer. Not to worry, not that I have been. But have I been anxious? Yesterday, I told Joyce how anxious I was. I didn’t expect a reply, but by catching myself talking out loud to her made me think about Emerson and Coleridge again.
I was pretty well convinced that both of them were addicted, Emerson to his philosophy and religion and Coleridge to opium. I understand you could buy it at the corner drug store in those days–if not in pure form, certainly in drugs such as laudanum–and without a doctor’s prescription. And maybe Emerson was to some degree, having suffered from certain infirmities for most of his life. But me, am I that much different? I think I’m addicted to the adrenalin rush I get, and I think I have been from the first time I thought about doing it again. And the thrill builds up the longer I wait. Is this any different than what Coleridge writes about? Never did I feel guilty, while I was in the grip of the experience but I was after. I felt as though I was doing something forbidden. But as I once told you, I didn’t care and at the time, I blamed it on the loneliness. But I can’t help wonder what I’ll blame it on after loneliness can no longer be claimed as
an excuse. Emerson and Coleridge and their colleagues had this same problem, but the temptation to continue was too much for most of them. And I wonder if it will be the same with me? But do I really want too quit? And what about Gene? What is she going to say when she finds out what I’m doing with Joyce?
One of the first things I better do after reporting to the Base Provost Marshall with my papers and story, will be to consult with the medics; preferably with a good psychiatrist if one is available, and certainly with follow up visits when I return to the states. My marriage and perhaps my sanity will depend on it
Chapter 17
Wonder of wonders, I see on the horizon what looks to be a sail. And as it draws closer, I can see two native lads manning an outrigger. Where they are going doesn’t concern me, as long as they keep coming this way. I’m sure I can convince them it is in their best interests to turn-around and take me to civilization. If the army won’t compensate them because of red tape, I will promise to pay them from my pay, which must be considerable by now.
They both speak fluent English but welcome me in their native language. They want to know how long I’ve been at sea and I tell them a little less than two months. And then without them asking where I came from, I tell them the whole quick story; emphasizing the uninhabited island I was on. When they tell me today’s date, I reply by telling them I was there almost four years. No need to promise them pay, they recognize a celebrity when they see one, and they both expect to be heroes on their island when the story is told in the newspapers.
I reported to military headquarters on the main island and asked the commanding officer if I could see his intelligence people. I impressed on him how important it is I see them without volunteering to tell him much of anything about me. He can see I’m a derelict by my unkempt beard and worn out clothes. My shoes are made from the backpack of my parachute, and the fact that I’m hardly more than skin and bones tells him a great deal about me, without my wasting time telling him much of anything other than that I was on an uninhabited island with two Japanese.
A major interrupts my first descent meal in a long time. I tell him there is no need to apologize, because I have something of the utmost importance to tell him. Before he can say much of anything else, I blurt out that I have Top Secret information that is the concern of the president himself. I know he thinks I’m a little dingy, but I also know he will change his mind when he hears my story.
By this time a crowed of staff people are hanging on, making themselves look necessary in order to gawk at me and to hear what is so all-fired important. The first thing I tell the major is that the nation is about to be destroyed by sinister Japanese forces, and that what I have to tell him comes from none other than a highly placed staff officer in the Kempeitai. I ask him if he knew who they were. My intention was to cut to the chase with a minimum of unnecessary conversation. When somebody tells him how long I was on this island, he asks me if I know the War has been over for months and there is no longer a Kempeitai or much of a Japanese nation to give us further problems. He quits talking and sets back to observe how this affects me.
I was flabbergasted as might be expected. Then when I started again, he interrupted me to tell me about something he was calling an atomic bomb that had destroyed two large cities, and that we had destroyed the rest months before with firebombs dropped from thousands of giant bombers.
And as I stammered something about the Emperor, he told me General MacArthur had already saved his worthless skin.
The intelligence officer apparently didn’t like Japanese, and the Emperor in particular, any more than anybody else did. The War might be over but not long enough to make much difference to him or to his commanding officer. But before I went off half-cocked about any plan to tell Mr. Hoover or the president, I should be aware of certain things, he said.
But this didn’t slow me up all that much. There was still the matter of military tribunals and the guilt of the rest of the admirals and generals and their staffs. The president had to know about what I knew about the Tanaka Memorial and the guilty parties to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. To his credit, he stopped talking and started taking notes. After a few minutes he stopped, apparently thinking the issue of guilt for the I-400 project and the other signed orders that Aokie was going to carry out would interest higher authorities considerably. It was then he figured he was getting in over his head and he called his superior to tell him so.
My interview was discontinued. The commanding officer made the decision on the spot. He was going to send me to Washington, post haste. True the War was over, but not the military tribunals Aokie was so worried about. Even if the Emperor or the “Mikado” as he called them, was safe for the time being–Tojo, Togo, Suzuki, and Yamashita and a host of others were not. The local military chose not to question me further. None of them felt they had a need to know what I knew. Nor did they ask to see Aokie’s papers after they found out who he had been.
All that suited me, I had grown tired of talking to them; I wanted to tell my story to the heads of state and let them sort it out. No more intermediaries, and Lord forbid that the press should get wind of it before I left.
Tash was interviewed separately. When the Intelligence people decided he had little to say that I hadn’t already said or planned to say, they gave him some new clothes and put him aboard a freighter headed for Japan.
It was then I told them I wanted to get in touch with Joyce. Why not Gene? I can’t answer that or at least I couldn’t at the time.
I couldn’t talk to Joyce because I didn’t know her telephone number, but I was able to send a telegram consisting of a dozen sentences. I explained, who I was and that I had been on an island with her deceased husband. I received a curt reply saying I must be mistaken about his wife. It said he didn’t have a wife. And nobody at that address knew the person I was calling Joyce.
Gene’s mother replied, telling me it was important to contact her, the mother, personally and without delay. I thought this was also funny but said nothing in reply to either one. But it sure had me wondering what was going on.
The commander at Fiji had given me a letter of introduction to cut through the red tape. The base operations officer at Pearl was sharp enough to understand the situation might be urgent and of course to understand if nothing else that I was a former castaway. I received all the support I needed. And food? I seemed to do nothing but eat and sleep. At this rate, I expect to be fattened up in less time than it takes to tell about it.
The base operations officer also allowed me to use his special telephone to call Gene’s mother. I could have contacted Gene but her mother had asked me to contact her first. When she came on the phone, the situation was filled with tension. Something was going on that didn’t bode well for me. I had heard of dozens of “Dear John” letters sent to a husband for much less than what Gene had experienced. And after all, she didn’t know whether I was alive or dead only that I had been missing for four years. Whatever her mother had to say if it was bad, I wasn’t going to blame Gene.
When her mother came on the line, she hesitated to say anything. I already knew something was wrong and I more than half way expected what it was going to be. I wasn’t disappointed. That is, I knew what she was going to say before she said it.
Gene had remarried and had another child. She was still very much in love with me but under the circumstances, she felt that nothing would be gained by my calling on her at her home. She told her mother, when her mother told her I was alive that she would not divorce her present husband and that she expected me to understand. But there was a lot more to it than her mother would have me believe. I would find out later but for now that’s really all I had to know. I had lost my wife, and for all intents and purposes my son.
I stayed over in Hawaii long enough to rest up, to have a complete physical and to be outfitted with new uniforms. I also suspect the local FBI wanted some time to digest what I had told them, and for Mr. Hoover to decide what they were going to do with
the information. I guess they figured it was important because a new set of orders were forthcoming, assigning me to Walter Reed Hospital with instructions on where to report in Washington.
Several weeks later, I was ushered into Mr. Hoover’s office in the Justice Department. I was seated at a long table in the presence of his assistant and another agent. The director joined us directly and we talked as though we were long time friends. He asked me questions about everything I have told you about. I was surprised to hear that he knew about the bat thing. Not about the Japs using it but about it being one of our schemes. But he said they must have copied it from the one where we intended to use bats to burn down Tokyo.
He acted as though he didn’t know about the giant submarines, looking very agitated when informed about the plan to dump virus on our cities
He asked to see the Tanaka Memorial I was carrying and directed that a copy be made declaring it to be Top Secret. He adjourned the meeting with instructions for me to remain in the building. He wanted me to talk to several agent attorneys that were assisting members of the Justice Department in preparing the military’s case against a couple of dozen members of the Emperor’s staff–but not him personally. As it would turn out, the tribunals were held and several high-ranking officers would be sentenced to death. Other lesser lights just as guilty got off with long prison sentences.
The hue and cry for the Emperor’s neck was forthcoming from the press and public but died out when President Truman declared he was necessary to govern the fanatic Japanese. This included elements of the army and an upstart underground organization known as the Yakuza.
The Yakuza date back hundreds of years and were formed to protect townspeople from roaming bandits. Some believe the first of them were out of work Samari who lost their jobs when peace was declared following the many internal wars in Japanese history. But President Truman was made aware of the Mafia like gangs springing up before the cease-fire was signed aboard the Missouri. Indeed, they were reported to be patterning themselves after the Sicilian Mafia that was preying on merchants in our large cities. Anyway, General MacArthur and the president believed the only way the Yakuza could be contained was by direct intervention by the Emperor.
Somewhere West of Fiji Page 16
