The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature: From Restoration to Occupation, 1868-1945: vol. 1 (Modern Asian Literature Series)

by J. Thomas Rimer

  Suddenly I awoke, feeling chilled. The sun had not set, but it was on that faint roll starting the slide down the stairs to night. When I thought the situation ought to be finished up around here, I knew the bridge that I felt connected us to the villagers had vanished quickly. The original rupture was there, but then they were separated so far from death. The fortress that I had shut myself into was surrounded by a bottomless bog, and it seemed that all the drawbridges could be hoisted instantly. Being shut up in a fortress, I observed, I would not hear the sound of enemy bombs, and my concern focused increasingly on the fact I would have no further communication from the defense forces. For now that offered an unexpected peace, but then I thought of the loneliness of such isolation. Without hiding my loneliness, when I told them that the outdoor performance would have to be ended, the plea in their eyes wet with tears of resignation gave me a feeling of satisfaction. As if impatiently ready, the sun began its rapid descent. On their way back to the village, the children walked on the path along the shore. For the old men, lest they become too tired, we readied a boat and rowed them directly to the village in the evening calm, the men crowded on board standing. The villagers in the boat stared back unblinking at those of us on the bank receding behind them. Because the boat’s draft was shallow, it looked like a plank that could barely float. The setting sun’s direct yellowing rays drenched them head-on in the boat’s course. Soon I could no longer distinguish the various faces, each with its own distinct expression. Their features enameled in the golden light were melted together into one, and in an instant I saw them floating as only an outline. Their shapes in the gentle gray evening twilight fused into the view of their village where a life of little hope awaited them. Left behind on my own bank, I watched them without end.

  If we had received the orders to depart that night, I surely would have made the daring suicide attack. Although I had been preparing my mind for a year and a half for this expected day, the excitement last night led to a disappointment that devoured my spirits. Still troubled by a lack of sleep, putting on my embarking clothes, fitting, sleepy-eyed, my buttons and belts into their appointed places, I would, crouching, have boarded the boat laden with weapons, full of regret at leaving. The split between looking back at the world of life still brimming full and the redirection I must now make during the dubious interval en route to battle made me anxious. Tonight was different, however. Over one weird day and night, my feelings had been set aside. Even if my life had been spared, I saw in the depths that the future days of life ahead were unendurable in a world surrounded by extinction. Then from the defense unit in the guard room at the entrance to the air-raid shelter, I had been summoned, as expected, by the piercing bell of the telephone. Yes, it was ringing. The messenger was running up the slope toward the wooden shed of our headquarters calling me. “ORDER JUST RECEIVED. ALL COMMANDO UNITS LAUNCH AT ONCE.” The messenger looked at me as if he were about to cry but then shot a question at me. But Lieutenant S., he said, How the hell are you doing? I ought to reply. For tonight, all right. That’s because last night was a rehearsal of all the procedures, like dealing with an outbreak of measles. The weight of daily life after we had escaped the departure was too much to bear. Although we would have been freed from all the past when we collided with death, so long as daily life is at a standstill we cannot cut our ties to the past. I longed for a severe rebuke to the body. In the great unknown realm made from the mixing of flesh and blood, of darkness and light, of deafening roar or of iron, death brings an end to all the achievements of this world amid the unsurpassed drunkenness we are slogging through. While the speed attained by our small boats will anesthetize our bodies and drive us unconscious, it may raise our warrior spirits. Will the enemy planes really overlook the long wake from our fifty-two attack boats in the phosphorescent luminescence of night? How can we guarantee that the enemy planes will not dive-bomb our fleet of boats? If the enemy planes carry out their expected mission, the 230 kilograms of explosives loaded in the prows of our boats would surely respond. Our target, the large fleet of warships bearing down on us with no reason for fear, would clearly be dispersed over the ocean by the explosions. That could be called an accident. If it were to be an accident, I wouldn’t have that immediate fear of death. Then I could have a dignified death. Now with my emotions divided and not reawakened to life, I wanted to go on the attack. Certainly, that way, it would go well. Without changing my voice I would instruct the messenger to announce an all-personnel assembly.

  Beyond that I could say that there was nothing to regret. For Toshie1 I would write a note and ask a messenger to take it to O. village. He should do it without fail, as he always did. The unchanged words of everyday greeting should put her heart at rest. But if it upset her, what more could I do? Last night’s events had been reported to Toshie by someone. She had come to the visitor’s post of the unit, and I had been able to meet her. Because I kept a bundle of her letters in my breast pocket, I was satisfied that I could easily find out where she was. I recalled being told that she would come to me at once, and I remembered how my vigor would rise in that jostle of thoughts. With the preparations for departure complete, the launching still awaited, and the commandos asleep, I went out to the visitor’s post. Toshie was crouching there in the dark, wearing death shrouds and women’s work pants and concealing a dagger. I ran to her and grabbed her. It’s practice, it’s practice, I told her over and over again, but the departure orders weighed on my mind. I left her quickly and went back to the duty room. Why was I cheered up? I felt a sense of fulfillment as the cells of my body danced with joy. Grief enfolded my spirits, though, and when it built up within our group of 180 men, the tensions of the flesh moved first, without regard to what came later. When I had confirmed without doubt that her eyes were fixed directly on me, I had been transported into rapture. However, a day had passed in vain with no departure, and now the next night of new beginnings had come around. The framework of a plan for life had been sustained in good order, and whatever part may have been too subtle, I had retained the overall delicate balance, I thought to myself on the night of final consummation. If we departed this evening, my life could meet its end. Her tears and certain gestures by the dancing women from the village at the head of the inlet left a miniature picture that strengthened the overall composition. My whole world was smiling while receding into the distance where a huge pall of sadness lay over me, yet it offered a song of praise for a heroic death. If tonight ends up repeating last night and our departure is set aside, everything will begin to fester and get worse. The work that we have started is now in midcourse. In this unfinished phase it has cooled off, become sodden and tepid. Because it is beginning to freeze solid, it is showing symptoms that are beyond hope of remedy or resuscitation. So, sleepless in the dead of night and choosing the time of low tide, if I went out the north gate to the outpost I would meet Toshie, who had likely come. Not only could I not refuse her, but the rising tide and its ebb and flow called to me and I could not resist. I craved to be with her, and I racked my brain to find a scheme to get out of the unit and to succeed in having our relationship sanctioned, but then I kept thinking that my home is not here. My feelings were split in two; the fact that I could not give undivided attention to either would weaken the unit’s internal strength. That might be more than I could handle. This unnatural environment was simply piling up the unreason of it all. The time must come to settle up accounts. Nothing could be done about that fear of the final hair-raising death scene, fear of what cannot be known in advance. I thought the assault action would cancel out our previous unfulfilled action. That sudden crushing moment could be a compensation for yesterday.

  The beds in the air-raid shelter were terribly damp, but the discomforting noise of the bombing was blocked and it was a safe area for the time being. Crawling in there would at least show an outward appearance of timidity on my part. Alone by myself, I fell asleep peacefully in my cave.

  On the night of the fourteenth there was n
o communication from the defense forces; everything reverted to the usual daily routine. What awakened me the night before I did not think was an actual event. Was it a bad dream that had come to me exhausted in a midday nap? Whatever appeared may have come loose from my state of mind. I failed to persist with it and even lost track of where I was. A barely emerging premonition was growing with time, and it began to take on the appearance of a conviction. The waiting—wouldn’t it continue forever without change? Didn’t it appear that the enemy would skip over these islands and start the attack directly against the mainland while passing over this place in the course of war? The decision by headquarters to carry out the commandos’ attack was undoubtedly significant, as the enemy fleet was expected to approach for a possible landing. But its objective was not these islands. The fleet passed by us. If that were not the case, why would we have fallen into this period of inaction? What kind of overall battle plan did the staff officers of the defense forces have to support the high command? As I thought calmly about it, didn’t they understand that these islands had fallen into a strategy gap with no value to the prosecution of the war? Fear finally led them to fabricate the idea that the enemy fleet was bearing down on this island. The island had become a solitary islet with a magnetism that created the illusion that it was sucking in all the enemy’s combat power. Hadn’t the staff officers noticed that this island was of no value? Thus the opportunity of the enemy’s impending position was brusquely disregarded.

  Near midnight a communication came, but it had no connection at all with the commando units. “commanding officers of all detachments. at noon on 15th assemble all in defense units. if necessary motorboats may be sent to fetch personnel. understood?” Even if it is reported that no enemy planes at all were seen today, why should the defense units be instructed to send out motorboats at midday just when the commando attack boats are active? Without my knowing why, it shocked me, mocking my tension. In the way of the world to mock the overly serious while seeking and accepting a serious attitude, it seemed that after being incited to seek death, the defense unit had been told not to act as if they were suffering. From my point of view, there was no need to run the motorboats around. On a day of destiny like this I could not imagine what point there was to it. I decided to take a walk on the mountain path. With my feet treading the ground, I would try to work up a sweat.

  I was suddenly very sleepy. I went into the dugout, lay down, and fell asleep at once. I slept as if the blinds had dropped. My eyes opened at dawn. I slipped out of my bunk and went out the north gate. Toshie was sitting there in the daylight, glued to the bench and looking as if she had been there since yesterday. I consoled her there in her usual pose. Practice is safely over, I told her, and urged her to go back to the village and get some good sleep. I returned to my bed in the shelter, and sinking deeply into the dampness, I eagerly fell back to sleep.

  When I awoke, the sun of August 15 was climbing high. The day’s work of the unit members in the fields had slackened. A bit unsure of myself for having slept late, I was also briefly uneasy that I might have missed an important moment while I was asleep. I learned at once, though, that there were no changes from the state of things last night when I went to sleep. No enemy planes appeared today. For two days running, we had heard no bombing. I wanted at all costs not to believe that. Had nothing decisive happened in the war situation? That was simultaneously good news and a disappointment. This island caught in the strategic gap is abandoned. How many years will pass, the war will be over and the concomitant disorders brought under control, and what country may come to establish an administrative authority here, I wondered anxiously.

  I ate a hasty late breakfast and readied myself to go to the defense unit. On my three-part military uniform, which was not for shipboard use, I pulled on my gaiters and buckled on the sword belt attached to my shoulder strap. I did not hook my sword onto the belt but held it in my hand.

  Turning up the inlet, I went out the south gate guard post where the village sentries were posted and walked toward the village. I felt relieved in body and soul. The fields along the rocky edges of the inlet and the valley in the shadow of the mountains spread out before me along the meandering path where banyan and pandanus trees grew in the tidal-flat stink. Leaving the unit and finding myself alone, I saw myself as no more than a youth of shallow roots in this world. In the hour until I reach the defense unit, I am completely liberated. I can really enjoy that. Even if the orders to depart are delivered to the unit while I am absent, there is no means for me to learn of them. If a messenger is sent after me, by the time he catches up with me I should be back at the unit. However, if I proceed to the defense unit because of orders from there, I cannot be questioned about the responsibility for my absence. It may be a shameless thought, but I cannot live by denying this feeling of liberation. When I had left the unit to meet Toshie, I would stumble on ever faster, my thirst intensifying as I trembled in joy. The burden that I could not handle entangled me, body and soul. When I went to the defense unit, however, my feelings settled down like a delicate little bird. Leisurely relishing the path and the time en route, I walked along the meandering way by the mountain lake and the scarcely visible inlet, carrying my sword like a bar behind my head or resting across my shoulder. If I took the defense unit motor launch I would get there quickly, but that way I could not hold on to my easygoing freedom, I realized. Last night’s emphasis on the motor launches came to mind by chance, and again I had doubts. Enemy plane attacks had recently become violent, and our daytime sorties had been almost entirely suspended. The island’s small rowboats did not venture out because of the danger, but when it was agreed that they would go out tomorrow, what could one make of that? Unless we obtained an enemy pledge and knew that there would be no enemy attacks all day, there would be no reason to expect such fearless behavior by the boat people. The whole idea seemed ludicrous. When I came out suddenly from the narrow dark place into the broad daylight, I had an idea. The strategy that had been carefully concealed from our side was succeeding. Hadn’t the enemy’s power been completely pulled away from the islands around Japan? Today wasn’t the defense staff discussing and revising a strategy based on the new war situation? Every time the defense unit called an assembly, even when it started with the hoped-for development of a needed change in current policy, it usually ended in small details not related to the purpose for which the meeting was called. Without becoming absorbed in the thought, I walked along the mountain path keeping in my heart a hope for the next meeting. This time, though, I had a strange kind of confidence in the defense unit’s behavior.

  Some ten village houses were scattered about at the innermost recess of the inlet where it curved like the bend in the toe of a boot after the ebb tide had left the land exposed. Other than the houses, there were no signs of people. Where they were and what they might be doing I could not guess. The first rice harvest, delayed in fear of air raids, was overgrown and toppling. The rice was still green before becoming straw, and it gave off an odor that commingled with the smell of locusts. The pigs raised at each home had been killed and eaten in the confusion about the unit’s movements. If the enemy were to land, I could not guess what the fate of the village and the villagers would be. Until the commandos attacked, it seems the villagers would be left in the hopeless unknown behind an iron wall one could not peep through. The land warfare plan of the defense unit and the disposition of the troops had been established. After the commandos had taken off, the members of our base and maintenance units would have been absorbed into the defense plan and, along with the villagers, would be accommodated in previously prepared air-raid shelters. Then, using explosives, they would commit suicide, rumor had it. It seemed doubtful. Even now, at the last resort, there was no way to get a sure response. If something came close, but if they were not beset by the conditions of hell, I could not think it reasonable. Actually, if the attack came with new techniques, we might be outmaneuvered and carried away to death. When I heard the c
ry of the cicadas that I had not been hearing, when I felt the breeze bringing the odor of rice paddies and the heat of midsummer, it brought back memories of the summer vacations of an elementary school pupil and of my youth in a world of nature I saw as fulfilled and solidly unified. I felt I was looking back with regret that I could not now retrieve my past. While I walked along somewhere without sure memories, I felt I was suddenly grabbed by the nape of the neck and pulled backward. It was an impulse jerking me back to the old Japan of my grade school days. I was walking along catching cicadas in a hastily made spider-web net and putting ant lions and ground spiders into paper boxes. I frightened myself with this image of my young self. Without thinking, I looked around. The end of the inlet could still be seen where it curved. I could see only the rice paddies alongside the road leading from the scattered houses I had walked past. The little pocket fields led into a mountain road. The mountains pressed in on both sides, and at a field on one side where a narrow but deep valley cut in, an old couple was at work in silence. I stopped and called out to them.