As you sat there in the jeep, you felt both proud and guilty. When the interpreter, who was sitting next to you, asked if you were absolutely certain about where you were taking them, you suddenly felt uneasy. You nodded, and glanced over at the group of men to find Buntoku, but he wasn’t there. At the commander’s order, the soldiers standing around smoking and chatting jumped into their jeeps, and you told the interpreter to head toward the woods.
About three hundred meters from the village, the road became too narrow for the jeeps to pass. Everyone got out, and you and the interpreter led the way up the slope. You went deeper into the woods than anyone had during the previous searches. When you reached the small hill in the center of the island, you halted. Through the bishopwood and chinquapin trees, you could see the mouth of the cave at the bottom of the cliff, about fifty meters away. You pointed it out to the interpreter. He nodded, looked at the cave, and said something to the commander, who stepped forward and peered through a small pair of binoculars. He had a young soldier spread out a map to confirm their position. Then he sent two scouts with rifles ahead to investigate.
As you watched the backs of the two soldiers, you prayed that Seiji was in the cave. The two soldiers, apparently assuming that Seiji didn’t have a gun, showed no signs of caution. They went right up to the cave and peered inside. Up until several months ago, the woods had been dense with trees, but the repeated naval bombardments aimed at Japanese soldiers in hiding left only burnt trees and piles of broken branches. Around the cliff, tree stumps were visible under the dim light of the cloudy sky. The two men peering into the cave with their rifles readied gave a signal, and the commander ordered the other soldiers to join them. The interpreter had you follow diagonally and to the rear of the commander. The soldiers were all positioned about thirty meters from the cliff in a tight semicircle facing the cave. You thought their formations were vastly superior to those of the Japanese army, and felt it only natural that the Japanese had been powerless against the Americans. For a moment, you felt in awe of Seiji for facing down such a powerful military on his own, but you immediately nipped those feelings in the bud. Why’d he have to do that? And what the hell was the lunatic thinking? you spit out to yourself. I have no idea, you replied. Oh, don’t pretend! You know exactly why! another voice told you. In confusion, you lift your head.
—Are you all right? the woman asks, with an anxious look.
—Yes, why do you ask?
—Because I’ve been calling you for a while, but you’ve just been sitting there with your head down.
—Sorry, I had something on my mind.
—If you’re tired, why don’t we call it a day?
—No, I’m not tired at all.
—You’re not?
—I really appreciate having someone record my war experiences. I’ve often thought about doing it myself, but it’s really hard to write. I just haven’t been able to do it.
The woman nods at what you say, with an expression of kindness and joy. At least, that’s what you feel and want to believe. You feel sorry about getting special treatment, but you’re happy to get it, all the same.
—Did Seiji come out right after the tear gas was thrown in?
—No, not immediately. I think it took a minute or two.
No, it must’ve been longer. As you watched the bluish white smoke rise up from the mouth of the cave, you kept repeating in your mind, Hurry up! Come out! Suddenly, you heard a woman scream behind you and then soldiers yelling. You turned around, and saw that Hatsu had rushed forward and that some soldiers were holding her back with their rifles. Seikō grabbed her arms from behind, forcing her to the ground. Hatsu’s cries were so intense that the trees shook. The villagers were getting restless.
Over a hundred voices, which up until then had been silent, hurled words of anger, one after another. With their veins popping out of their arms and legs, the crowd pushed forward like an uncontrolled beast. The Americans showed a fear that caused you to shrink back in terror. At the commander’s signal, the soldiers trained their guns on the crowd. When the villagers saw this, their faces went rigid. Though you were frozen, you felt a sense of relief that the Americans must’ve shared.
—How did Seiji look when he came out?
—He was staggering and looked like he’d collapse any minute. He used his harpoon to support himself.
—His harpoon?
—Yes, he apparently planned to use that to fight the Americans. And in his other hand, he held a grenade.
—Were grenades available at that time?
—He probably found one left behind by the Japanese forces. Back then, there were even people who emptied out the gunpowder and used unexploded shells to catch fish.
—Did he throw it?
—Huh? What?
—I mean, did Seiji throw the grenade?
—If he did, he would’ve been shot dead immediately. He tried to throw it, but he collapsed before he could. Besides, the grenade was a dud.
Hatsu suddenly stopped crying, and Seikō and the villagers turned their attention to the cave. You turned back around. Seiji had staggered out of the smoke and now stood supporting himself with the harpoon in his left hand. His unrecognizable face was covered with mud, and tears flowed from his eyes, which were swollen shut. As if trying to locate the Americans with his ears, he moved his head back and forth. The commander yelled something, and the five soldiers near the cave leveled their rifles at him. When you noticed that he was holding a grenade, you wanted to run, but your feet wouldn’t move. In response to the commander’s voice, Seiji started to pull the pin of the grenade.
If he hadn’t collapsed, he would’ve been shot dead. At least that’s what you thought later. Several shots rang out in rapid succession. Seiji fell forward but never let go of the grenade. With a shaky hand, he pulled the pin and pounded the fuse into the ground. Then he lifted his upper body and tried to throw the grenade, but it only tumbled from his hand and rolled beside his face, which was buried in the dirt. When you saw the interpreter and the commander dive for cover, you instinctively threw yourself to the ground in a panic, too. You covered your ears, pressed your face into the ground so hard that the stones burrowed into your forehead, and waited for the grenade to explode. You heard the shrill buzzing of the cicadas. A considerable amount of time passed, but that was all you could hear. When you lifted your head, two soldiers were standing next to Seiji. One pointed his rifle at Seiji’s head while the other squatted down and slowly reached for the grenade. After cautiously picking it up, he threw it into the cave and immediately crouched down. You pressed your face into the ground again, but the grenade didn’t explode.
Damn Seiji! Scaring the shit out of everybody! you muttered so that no one could hear. Then you got up and scurried to catch up to the commander and the interpreter, who were walking toward Seiji. Covered with sweat and mud, Seiji’s tattered, faded jacket clung to his back, which slowly moved up and down. One of the soldiers stuck his boot under Seiji’s chest and flipped him over onto his back. Seiji’s pale face was covered with tears, sweat, and mud. Saliva mixed with blood dripped from his purple lips. His swollen eyelids had turned dark red, and shimmering tears flowed from the corners of his eyes. Blood streamed from his right shoulder and soaked his jacket. Another soldier pried Seiji’s fingers open, grabbed the harpoon, and laid it on the ground. Then he frisked Seiji to make sure he didn’t have any other weapons.
The interpreter asked if you were absolutely certain that this was Seiji. When you nodded, he explained to the commander. You took two or three steps back, but you didn’t have the courage to turn around and confront the villagers. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you tried to be more inconspicuous by moving to the side and watching the commander and his men. Two of the soldiers were given an order and started running toward the road. The interpreter picked up the megaphone and announced to the villagers:
—Don’t worry! He’s alive!
You imagined that everyone looked grea
tly relieved, but you didn’t actually check to make sure.
Ten minutes later, the two soldiers returned with a stretcher. After placing Seiji on it, they started walking toward the villagers. Seiji’s right hand, trembling as it dangled over the side of the stretcher, was curled up as if still grasping the grenade. Some of his toenails had been torn off, and streaks of blood ran down the soles of his bare feet. Apart from Hatsu, who was wailing and trying to rush to her son’s side, and Seikō, who held her back, the villagers watched in complete silence as Seiji was carried toward them. The silence terrified you. You couldn’t help thinking that when the anger suppressed at gunpoint finally erupted, you’d become the target.
The soldiers grew tenser and tenser as they approached the villagers. With their fingers on the triggers, they tightened their formation on all sides of the stretcher. Overwhelmed, Hatsu’s cries gradually died down. You were standing about five meters from the cave as you watched all of this. You had the feeling that if you stayed behind after the Americans left, the village men would beat you to death and toss your body into the cave. So when the last soldier passed by, you scurried after him. Even so, you made a point to leave a couple of meters between you and the soldiers. The thronging crowd of villagers split apart, and the soldiers passed through the center and headed down the hill. Hatsu, Seikō, and Seiji’s other relatives chased after them. The path was jammed, and you were forced to wait, so you turned to your childhood friend, Bunsei Shinzato, who happened to be standing nearby.
—So they finally caught him, you said.
Shinzato stared at you with a look of disbelief and then moved away without answering. Just then, you noticed a space about to open up.
—Seiji’s the bad one, you said so that others could hear, so I don’t think they’ll blame the village.
You knew that your words rang false. Your comment was met with the reproachful stares of the women, and you smiled drolly to cover yourself. When you saw Buntoku, who was watching from the shade of a tree, you averted your eyes.
—Hey, Mr. Kayō!
Having your name hurled at you from behind made you shiver in spite of yourself.
—How did you know Seiji was hiding in this cave?
Kazuaki Tamashiro, a young man nearly two dozen years your junior, stood facing you. His defiant stare and words made you nervous, but you knew it’d be a mistake to turn this ringleader into your enemy. His words had drawn five or six other young men to his side. Your face hardened as you sensed that one wrong step would land you in a kangaroo court.
—You don’t need to worry. The Americans said they wouldn’t execute him.
Tamashiro laughed derisively and scowled.
—I asked how you knew Seiji was hiding here.
—The American he stabbed isn’t going to die, so it’s probably just as well they caught him before this developed into something bigger.
—Answer the damn question!
The one who screamed this at the top of his lungs was Yuko Kuda, who always fell in line with Tamashiro. He was small but one of the strongest on the island in Okinawan sumo, and he had learned karate from his uncle, Yūsei. You wiped away the sweat breaking out on your brow and pointed toward the cave. The group’s gaze was diverted in that direction.
—Where else would he have hidden? You never thought he’d hide there?
As if anticipating your tactic, Tamashiro immediately countered:
—Even if we did, we wouldn’t have told the Americans.
—You talk like it’s bad to cooperate with them, but you all participated in the search, too, didn’t you?
—Who said we cooperated?
—He just did, didn’t he?
Kuda’s quick reply to Tamashiro’s question caused the other young men to break out laughing. But they weren’t the only ones. Among the fifty or so people still there, women, the elderly, children, and even people of your generation were smirking, some even scowling when your eyes met theirs.
—I’m just thinking of what’s best for the village.
—You mean what’s best for yourself! a woman screamed.
But you didn’t know whose voice it was. You’d already turned around and started heading down the slope. As you hurried along, a rock fell at your feet and tumbled down the hill ahead of you. Then came a second and a third, falling to your left and your right. You figured they were just trying to scare you, but then the next stone hit you square in the back. You moaned in pain and stopped walking. Don’t turn around, you told yourself. Then you raised your head and proceeded on your way. Other stones came flying after that, but none of them hit you. But the pain, humiliation, and anger remained.
—What happened to Seiji after he was carried away on the stretcher?
—I don’t know the details of what happened next. At the time, there still weren’t any courts or prisons. Since he wasn’t a soldier, he couldn’t have been tried in a military court. I wonder what happened to him....
—So he wasn’t executed, right?
—That’s what the interpreter told me, so I’m sure he wasn’t.
—So there’s a possibility he returned to the village, right?
—I left the island a year after the war ended, so I don’t know.
That wasn’t true, but you don’t feel like going into that with her. After Seiji was taken away, the villagers continued to harass you. Not having people say hello to you on the street and being ignored even when you spoke to people wasn’t such a big deal. You also endured having your fields torn up during the night and having excrement scattered in your yard. You assumed that Tamashiro and his friends were doing it, but if you said anything, things would’ve only gotten worse, so you put up with it. Thinking your effort as ward chief would be appreciated eventually, you did your best to increase the food rations from the Americans, to acquire more construction materials for rebuilding homes, and to reopen the schools. Your hard work did in fact bear fruit, and the harassment decreased. But just when you thought your struggles were over, malaria broke out on the island, and you lost both of your parents, one after another. Many people noticed and appreciated the hard work you did as ward chief, even while your own family was suffering.
But then your children started getting beat up and ostracized instead of you. Compared to when you yourself were getting harassed, you felt much more bitterness toward the villagers than before. Unwilling to suffer any more hardships for such people, you resigned your post as ward chief. Originally, your grandparents were ruined aristocrats who had come to the island in search of land after the fall of the Ryukyu Kingdom. The family gave up their aristocratic traditions, spoke the local language, and did their best to get accustomed to the island. Among those who had moved here, many remained proud of their aristocratic lineage and refused to associate with the islanders, but your father was different. Your family had lived on the island for over fifty years, but behind your back, you were considered only a temporary resident. At the beginning of the new year, after getting permission to move off the island, you relied on relatives to help you and your family relocate to Naha, the capital city on the main island in the south.
At first, you helped with the family business, but after about a year, you got involved in military operations. Working on a US military base, you brought up three children. The concerns of everyday life kept your mind occupied, and you tried to forget about the island. When the island was mentioned in newspapers or on television, you couldn’t even bother to look. After the children grew up and moved away, and you and Nae were living on your own, you never even talked about the island, to say nothing of going there. You lived alone with Nae for over ten years, and she didn’t want to have anything to do with the island either. She was probably angrier about the violence inflicted on the children than you were.
Recalling Nae, you glance over at the family’s Buddhist altar. You’re not wearing your glasses, so the writing on the mortuary tablet appears blurry. But in your mind, you can see Nae’s name clearly, for yo
u wrote it yourself.
—After that, you never returned to the island?
—No, I never did. We’re not originally from there.
—Haven’t you ever thought of visiting?
—No, I haven’t. Not at my age.
—Is that so?
The tone of her voice suddenly makes you feel uneasy. You stop watching the tape recorder and lift your head.
—Are you planning to go to the island to check on everything I’ve said?
—Huh?
—Because if you are, you should forget it. Some people don’t want to remember the past.
After staring at you for a while, she mutters that you’re probably right, and stops the tape. She thanks you repeatedly as you accompany her to the front door. After she’s gone, you recall that her name was Megumi Makiya. But you immediately lose your confidence and wonder if you remembered correctly.
You return to the room and put away the cushion she was sitting on. Glancing down at the table, you picture the tape that was turning inside the transparent plastic window. Even if I die, you think, my voice will remain, and my memories will be passed down to the next generation. This thought causes you to feel overwhelmed with the sensation that you’re no longer in this world. At the same time, a mutter slips from your lips:
—I couldn’t communicate anything, and my memories will die with me.
In the Woods of Memory Page 6
