by Vincent Yee
“Nice to meet you, Kenji.” Peter smiled and shook hands with Kenji.
Hiroshi then roughly rubbed Kenji’s hair as he squirmed and commented, “Don’t let his youthful looks fool you. Kenji is a lot stronger than he looks. Isn’t that right, Kenji?”
Kenji finally beat back Hiroshi’s hand with his sinewy arms. “Talk about strong? Nah, Home Run here was the strongest man from our camp. He could take on any of those white guards if he really wanted to.”
“What’s this ‘Home Run’ thing you keep on calling Hiroshi?” asked Peter, puzzled.
“It’s Hiroshi’s nickname.” Kenji grew excited as he spoke. “We had this baseball game, see, and it was the last inning and Hiroshi needed to hit a home run to win the game.” Kenji then got into a swinging stance and began to reenact the entire scene. “So it was like this, he swung and BOOM! He fell down and hurt his right arm. We thought he was going to leave the game, but then he did the most amazing thing: He batted left-handed and POW! He hit that ball all the way to left field. And listen to this! His wife caught the home run ball! How amazing is that?”
“Wow… sounded like I had to be there to see it,” Peter exclaimed.
“Yeah, you had to. But take it from me, he was great. That’s why we call this guy Home Run!” Kenji shouted.
“Okay, enough now! I don’t need to be called ‘Home Run’ all over the base,” Hiroshi said, smiling with embarrassment.
“I still need to get some of my paperwork filled out, but I’ll meet you at the barrack,” said Kenji. “Oh, Home Run, I’m glad we’re in the same company. My brother is going to be so jealous!” he exclaimed as he walked off.
“It’s good to see you, too!” replied Hiroshi.
“He’s so young,” Peter said.
“Yeah, I know,” said Hiroshi as they watched Kenji’s lanky frame fade away.
Hiroshi and Peter walked back to their barrack. Peter walked in first and Hiroshi was about to follow after him when he paused. He stepped back onto the second step and looked down the rows of barracks. He then looked right and looked at the rows of barracks. He deeply inhaled the morning air and could feel the humidity laced with a bit of the Mississippi River. Hiroshi found it ironic that he left the prison camp only to be holed up in another camp full of barracks. Except this time, he was at Camp Shelby, Mississippi. Hiroshi entered his barrack.
“So you have a wife back at the relocation camp?” asked Peter as he sat on his bed, which was coincidentally next to Hiroshi’s.
“Newlyweds, actually–just got married to her this January,” said Hiroshi proudly.
“No kidding,” said Peter. “Must be tough, leaving the wife and all?”
Hiroshi thought for a moment and replied, “Yeah… it was. But I’m here in the army to fight for our freedom so that I can be with her.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a girlfriend back home waiting for me.”
“Home? Don’t you mean the prison?” said Hiroshi.
“Yeah, it’s not really home is it? It just seemed like we’ve been there so long…” Peter’s voice trailed away.
“Hey, Peter, I know. But now we’re here to fight for our freedom and to prove we’re Americans just like anyone else.”
A husky voice appeared from behind Hiroshi. “That is, if they don’t stick us on the frontline in the Pacific fighting the Japanese. We’re liable to get shot by these white boys.”
Akira stopped in front of Hiroshi’s and Peter’s beds and looked down at them. His head was shaved on the sides and left short on the top. With his chin held up high, he exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke from his mouth. He was wearing his standard-issue army pants along with his black belt and army boots. He had taken off his army shirt but left on his white tank top. Akira was in good physical shape and had a similar build to Hiroshi.
Peter looked up and asked, “What do you mean?”
Akira took another drag on his cigarette and spoke down to Peter, “All I’m saying is, if the U.S. Army puts us in Japan, how the fuck are the white boys going to tell that we’re not the Japanese?”
“We’ll be wearing the same U.S. army uniform,” said Peter.
Akira let out a deep mocking laugh as he leaned his head back. He focused his eyes back on Peter. “What, are you fucking naïve? Damn, you’re going to get shot first. How the fuck do you think a white boy soldier is going to see ‘us’ when there will be bullets, smoke, and fire everywhere?”
Peter could only respond with a, “Uh, well…”
“I’ll tell you exactly what will happen. We’ll be on the front line and when we look back to signal for the white boys to come up, they’ll see our slanted eyes and shoot us just out of fear!” Akira’s taunts were starting to affect Peter when Hiroshi stood up.
“Hey! Leave him alone. They won’t be sending us to Japan. I heard we’re going to Europe to fight the Nazis.”
Akira looked back at him as he narrowed his eyes.
“And how do you know that?” asked Akira tauntingly.
“And how do you know that they may be sending us to Japan?”
Akira paused, took another drag on his cigarette and then smiled, “I don’t!” He then let out a laugh and slapped Peter on the back. “I’m just fucking with you. Don’t take me seriously! I’m just trying to break the dullness around here. Akira’s the name.” Akira extended his hand out to Hiroshi.
“Hiroshi,” replied Hiroshi as he took Akira’s firm handshake. Akira was deliberately trying to squeeze hard, but Hiroshi had already sized him up and offered his own firm handshake.
“Ahh… a good Japanese name. How about you?” Akira shook Peter’s hand, causing him to wince.
“It’s Peter, Peter Tanaka,” Peter rubbed his hand gently.
“Peter? What the fuck kind of Japanese name is that?”
“My parents thought that by giving me an English name, I’d fit in better,” replied Peter.
Akira looked at Hiroshi with widened eyes and laughed hard. His loud laugh caught Peter’s attention just when Akira threw his right hand onto Hiroshi’s left shoulder, leaned down and looked Peter straight in the eyes and shouted, “And now you’re here? The irony of it all!” Akira leaned back and laughed loudly once more.
Hiroshi had to smile as he looked down at Peter who let out a chuckle at the irony of his own comment and then laughed himself. The three men laughed together at their predicament just as Kenji walked up to them.
“Hey! What did I miss?” asked Kenji with a curious smile.
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, the men were awakened by a booming voice.
“Alright you sorry asses… wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” hollered the drill sergeant followed by two soldiers who rattled the metal legs of the cots with their wooden batons.
The soldiers sat up quickly and squinted as the lights were turned on. Some had actually fallen out of their beds from being so abruptly awakened. Some looked utterly confused as their dreams disappeared from their minds.
“This is no summer camp! I want each and every one of you outside by oh-six-hundred hours, or there will be hell to pay!” yelled the drill sergeant. He stormed out of the barrack, followed by the two other soldiers.
Hiroshi sat up in his bed as Peter, to his right, covered his eyes with his right arm and moaned. Kenji’s bed was directly in front of Hiroshi’s, and he sat crossed-legged on the bed with his tired face in his hands. Hiroshi caught Akira staring at him, eyebrows furrowed with a stern look as he said, “This is only the beginning.”
The men speedily got out of bed and got dressed in their standard olive drab uniforms and their black boots. The drill sergeant stood impatiently outside, waiting for the Japanese American soldiers to file out with the two soldiers standing silently behind him. He eyed each person who came out of the door, assessing and mentally judging each by his body language. But when Hiroshi stepped out, lean and confident, his eyes gleamed.
Finally, all the soldiers were all assembled in a silent four-
row formation. Hiroshi was on the left with Peter to his left. Akira and Kenji stood directly behind them respectively. The drill sergeant took a couple of steps forward and slowly marched up the line away from Hiroshi. He studied each soldier. They did not flinch from their forward gaze. When he reached the end, he slowly turned, extending his stare on the last soldier for as long as possible and then proceeded down the line until he reached Hiroshi. The drill sergeant stepped directly in front of Hiroshi and stared into his brown eyes. Hiroshi respectfully stared back, never letting down his gaze from the drill sergeant’s grayish-blue eyes.
The drill sergeant leaned slowly forward to intimidate Hiroshi. But he stood his ground, with his shoulders square and his back tall and erect. Hiroshi wasn’t intimidated at all but he did find the drill sergeant’s hot breath repulsive and suddenly lost his appetite for breakfast. The drill sergeant was satisfied with his deep inspection of Hiroshi and leaned back with a low grunt.
“Soldiers, today is the first day of hell,” said the drill sergeant in a low deliberate tone. “We will begin training you and getting you into physical shape because frankly, some of you need it. And for those who can’t hack it, you can cry all the way back home for all I care.”
“We will start off with a little three-mile run. Those who can’t finish this little sissy run will have to answer to me! Is that understood?” demanded the drill sergeant.
“Yes, Sir!” answered the men in bold unison.
“All right then, let’s separate the men from the ladies! Let’s go for a run!” he yelled.
Upon command, the men turned to their right, and with the drill sergeant at their side, they began their first run. The men kept up a steady pace until the second mile when some of the men began struggling for breath and slowly started to fall behind. The clean four-line formation that had started out at the beginning of the run started to fall apart. But the men were all determined and though they were physically tired, their will was not. Hiroshi and Akira were firmly in the lead as they kept up with one another.
It was bound to happen–the competition between Hiroshi and Akira was starting to kindle. Their personalities clashed. Akira had a competitive streak laced with cockiness and arrogance. His ego didn’t make room for other men. As far as Akira was concerned, he was the only man. Hiroshi also had a competitive spirit, but it was a humble one. Hiroshi knew in himself what he could do and when circumstances called for it, he would perform to the best of his ability to achieve his objective.
Akira started to pick up the pace on the last stretch back to the barrack. Right then and there, it was about two men. A natural competition brewed with each step as both of their egos began to take over their common sense.
Hiroshi and Akira were neck in neck. Akira looked over and Hiroshi looked back at him. They breathed steadily, but sweat had started to drip from the top of their heads and down the sides of their face. The barrack was in sight, and Akira motioned with his eyes toward the barrack. Hiroshi shook his head. Akira gave a faint smile and his eyes gleamed as he suddenly bolted ahead. Hiroshi’s immediate response was to ignore him, but the competitive spirit suddenly gripped Hiroshi. Without thinking things through, Hiroshi sprinted after Akira.
Akira was already ahead, but Hiroshi surprisingly caught up. When Akira saw Hiroshi on his right, he smiled. His expression focused on the barrack ahead as he ran harder, pulling ahead of Hiroshi. Hiroshi responded by pushing himself harder and caught up to Akira, who was still racing hard. Smiles of fierce determination were on both men’s faces. Both men felt re-energized, finding that each could satisfy his yearning competitive nature. They simply felt like men.
Hiroshi and Akira neared the corner of the barrack and both arrived at the same time. Hiroshi slowed himself down as Akira steered himself to the other corner of the barrack and grabbed it. Hiroshi then circled back and placed his hands on his knees as he leaned forward to catch his breath. Akira was already doing the same. He stood up, inhaled, and trotted over to Hiroshi who also straightened up as he turned to Akira.
Akira eked out a smile and said, “You’re almost as fast as me!”
“I think we finished at the same time,” said Hiroshi, correcting Akira.
Akira struggled with a laugh, “Not going to admit that I’m faster, are you?”
“That would be a cold day in hell,” said Hiroshi with a hint of cockiness.
Akira inhaled the air around him and wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “This is hell according to the sergeant, but you’re right, it’s not cold, yet.” Akira let out a laugh.
Just then the drill sergeant trotted alongside them and yelled out, “What are you two doing?”
Hiroshi and Akira quickly stood alongside one another at attention as their chests heaved up and down. There was sweat beading down the sides of their temples as they stared ahead, feeling the impending scolding that they simply knew was coming.
“I said! What the fuck do you two think you were doing!” shouted the drill sergeant. His chest wasn’t even heaving one bit, attesting to his fine military endurance. He stood with his hands at his sides and leaned forward a little when he addressed the two soldiers.
“It was just a friendly race, Sir,” said Akira.
“Race? Did I ask you to race, Private!”
“No, Sir,” replied Akira.
“And how about you, Private Satoh, did I ask for a goddamn race?”
“No, Sir,” replied Hiroshi.
“If I ask for a race then by god, I will ask for a race! I asked for a little jog around the camp and instead, I get two show boaters who think they are better than everyone else. Do you think you’re better than everyone else, Privates!”
Hiroshi and Akira could feel the heat from their poor judgment and answered together, “No, Sir!”
The drill sergeant stared at the two soldiers and then extended his right hand in the direction of the other soldiers, who were still about one hundred yards away. “Then explain to me why the rest of your fellow troops are over there!”
There was silence from both Hiroshi and Akira.
“No, don’t answer that because if you two had shit for brains, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation! In the army, you work as a team! You do not leave your fellow soldiers behind! When you are out on the battlefield, the only people that you will be able to depend on will be your fellow soldiers! Your mommies and daddies will not be there and your fellow troops will need to depend on you! Do I make myself clear!”
The guilt hit Hiroshi hard. He had abandoned his fellow soldiers. In the army, he needed to start acting and thinking like a soldier. Hiroshi felt stupid for allowing Akira to goad him into the race. He then answered along with Akira, “Yes, Sir!”
“Good. I do not want to have this conversation again. In the army, you follow the orders of your commanding officer. That is how we operate around here. We are all in this together.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Hiroshi and Akira once more.
The drill sergeant then cast a glance at Akira, then Hiroshi. “Get down and give me fifty and count off together. That’s about how much time it will take for the rest of your fellow troops to get their slow sorry asses back here.”
Later that night after dinner, Hiroshi was sitting on his bed shirtless. He had just washed up and had his towel draped around his neck, catching the droplets of water from his wet hair. He had a pad of paper on his lap and was writing in it when Peter came back from his shower.
Peter slowly eased himself onto the bed until he was finally face up and let out a deep sigh of relief. He lay there with his pants and his shirt unbuttoned. He gave out a low painful moan. “I’ve never felt so sore in my life. It feels like every single muscle in my body is in shock.” There was no response from Hiroshi as he continued writing. Peter slowly turned his head toward Hiroshi, who was in deep concentration and asked, “What are you doing there?”
Hiroshi looked up. Peter’s words had finally caught his attention. “Oh, Peter, I didn’t even
see you there. I’m just writing a letter to my wife.”
Peter rolled over and settled onto his side, “What’s her name?”
A smile crept over Hiroshi’s face. “Minami,” he said, with a hint of admiration.
“That’s a pretty name. My girlfriend’s name is Noriko.”
“A Japanese name. Did your parents mind?” asked Hiroshi.
“Oh, yeah, I haven’t found too many Japanese girls with English names. Then again, I didn’t really get to meet too many girls until I met Noriko. My parents will just have to accept it,” said Peter with a chuckle.
“Looks like we both left loved ones,” said Hiroshi.
“Yeah. Hey, mind sparing me a few sheets of paper? I should start writing a letter as well before she gets mad at me.”
Hiroshi smiled and tore away a few sheets of paper from his notepad as Peter attempted to raise himself up. Hiroshi held out the sheets to Peter who rolled back into the bed. He looked at Peter confused as he exhaled loudly.
“You know, why don’t you just place the pieces of paper on my chest because I’m too sore to move right now,” said Peter.
Hiroshi laughed and obliged his new friend by placing a few pieces of paper on his chest. He had settled back into his bed to continue writing when Kenji sauntered up to them. He had his pants rolled up at the ankles and was shirtless. Kenji was a skinny kid, but sinewy. A towel draped over his left shoulder as all the muscles in his upper body was tense from the day’s workout.
“I am so sore!” Kenji complained loudly as he rolled his eyes up into his head.
“It sure looks like it,” said Hiroshi with a smile.
“And look at Peter, he looks like he can’t even get up,” Kenji said with a hint of humor in his voice.
Peter wanted to get up and with all his will, was only able to muster a middle finger at Kenji. As his hand fell back along the bed, he uttered, “I can’t move.”
Everyone let out a chuckle. Kenji then found some new energy and lifted his pale arms and flexed his biceps. “Yeah, once I get into shape, all the girls back home will love me,” said Kenji confidently as he looked at his biceps with a grin.
