The Emperor's General

by James Webb

  “I think so.” I was too overwhelmed to say any more.

  “Then let me ask you this,” said Kido, his shocked eyes staring bluntly into my face. “We are not a shameful people. We do not lack honor. What is it that your war crimes trials would accomplish that we have not already done for ourselves?”

  I suspected that there was an answer, but I did not have it. Finally he nudged me, pointing down the well-worn path to a place on the other side of the statue.

  “Over here.”

  I followed him along the winding, rock-strewn path for another twenty yards. We turned inland, away from the sea, and came upon a second white-graveled pavilion. At the center of the pavilion a tiny woman, shriveled with age, was sitting on a bench underneath a simple wooden canopy. Seeing us, she rose and bowed deeply, pressing her hands prayerfully together at the bottom of her chin. From her shaved head and flowing blue robes I could tell that she was a Buddhist nun. She had no doubt been sent to the top of this mountain to tend to the well-being of the goddess Kanon.

  I pressed my hands underneath my own chin, lowering my head as I greeted the old woman. Smiling peacefully, she went to a nearby well and began drawing us a bucket of fresh water.

  “So it is clear,” said Kido as we stood on the windswept mountaintop in the shade of the canopy.

  The silent nun returned and I bowed, thanking her as she handed me a stone cup filled with water. As I spoke, she served Kido as well. “Lord Privy Seal, I must tell you that in your country, nothing is ever clear.”

  Kido chuckled, seemingly delighted at my response. “Ah, so. Then I will help you. You must tell MacArthur that the lawyers are wrong about Prince Asaka.”

  He eagerly drank his water, then looked at me with an air of absolute authority. “As you can see, General Matsui accepted responsibility for Nanking long before there was a war with the Western powers. Before we had ever even heard of such a thing as the Potsdam Declaration, or war crimes trials. This shows you that as a culture we have already considered the unfortunate actions of some of our soldiers. And it should help you understand that Prince Asaka had nothing to do with it.”

  “There is evidence,” I answered. “Our lawyers have examined many documents, including personal diaries—”

  “Diaries!” he laughed. “Including mine! You cannot rely on diaries. I lie in my diary all the time.”

  “The majority of your other documents seem to have been destroyed,” I said dryly. “General LeMay’s firebombs apparently possessed a special ability to land directly on top of government files.”

  “The lasting effect of your bombs is remarkable, is it not?” Kido smiled brightly, ignoring my sarcasm. “But we have recently found some additional documents. I will give them to you tomorrow. They show clearly that the emperor’s uncle was only present at Nanking in a ceremonial role. He was not in command. He was the emperor’s representative to celebrate the conquest of the city. That is all!”

  I had no doubt that the “additional documents” Kido’s people had just “found” would directly contradict the evidence that Sam Genius was deriving from secondary sources. And although our investigators were having great difficulty making such distinctions, I felt certain that these new documents would also turn out to be recent forgeries. The Japanese were too well organized. If these were original documents helpful to the Japanese case, they would have been given to our staff weeks before.

  I shook my head, indirectly signaling that I did not believe the lord privy seal. “We have many documents, such as your diary. Some are indicating that the killings were in fact ordered from above, and perhaps that the prince had been sent to make sure they took place.”

  “A total misunderstanding,” sighed Kido.

  “In any event, I’m sure the court will take your new documents into account,” I answered obliquely.

  “Do you know that our constitution precludes the prince from being charged?”

  I suppressed a smile. “Then I’m sure the court will take that into consideration as well.”

  “I am serious!”

  The tiny old nun had seen that the lord privy seal was finished with his water. She shuffled over and again stood before him, her hands pressed together underneath her chin. He abruptly handed her his stone cup. “I make this point because we agreed to end the war only if the Allied powers recognized that our system of government would remain intact. The Meiji Constitution requires that all responsibility for the exercise of the emperor’s powers be assumed by the ministers of state and other organs. Prince Asaka was at Nanking only as the emperor’s representative.”

  “What if we prove that he ordered the killings?”

  Kido frowned, as if I were a dunce. “I told you, he did not! So how could such a falsehood be proved? But even if he had given improper orders on the battlefield, he could not be charged. He is the emperor’s uncle. At Nanking he was protected by the emperor’s sovereignty. That is our constitution! General Matsui understood this. That is why he gladly accepted responsibility.”

  I stared incredulously at him. “You mean that someone else must always take responsibility if the emperor or his family violates the law?”

  “It is impossible for them to violate the law,” said Kido. “I just explained this to you. This is our constitution!”

  “The supreme commander is changing the constitution, Lord Privy Seal. You know that.”

  Kido grunted, staring stubbornly out toward the sea. “We must talk about that as well, Captain Marsh. Soon! General MacArthur has become—most enthusiastic on those points, but he cannot change our constitution by himself! He knows this. He can propose changes, but our government must accept them. And the emperor must agree.”

  “He is very adamant that he wants changes, Lord Privy Seal. But of course he wishes to make them with the emperor’s concurrence.”

  “We shall see,” said Kido. I could tell that he was working to suppress a growing irritation. “There will be time for us to work on that issue as well, you and I. But not today.” He forced a smile, remembering his mission in bringing me to this mountain shrine. “For now, please remember that this debate about accountability in Nanking already took place, seven years ago! We addressed the problem. Our nation is a family. The emperor would never abuse his position to the detriment of those who serve him. It would bring him great heartache.”

  “But what about his uncle? I must say to you, Lord Privy Seal, that Prince Asaka has a somewhat savage reputation.”

  Kido sighed. “We cannot change the past, Captain Jay Marsh. You would be making a very bad mistake to be charging the emperor’s uncle. It could affect many other things. Please tell this to MacArthur.”

  “I will do that.” I handed my own cup back to the old woman. I had no need to go into this with Kido, but I knew that on this issue he had an ally in the supreme commander. “And what about General Yamashita?”

  “He is in the same position as General Matsui.”

  “Unfortunately that is not true,” I answered, thinking of Yamashita’s powerful intensity during our discussion in the odorous, sweat-stained prison cell of Muntinglupa. “General Yamashita is not accepting responsibility. He is adamant that these charges insult his honor.”

  “I told you, he is dangerously independent.”

  “He said to give you his greetings,” I said, feeling mischievous. “He said you were an old bastard.”

  “Ha!” Kido laughed abruptly, as if caught in the middle of some minor misdemeanor. “This is what I mean! Tomoyuki Yamashita is no younger than I am. That he should say such things!”

  I grinned broadly, enjoying Kido’s sudden discomfort. “Well, at least he didn’t accuse you of being dangerously independent.”

  The lord privy seal grinned slyly, as if appreciating my wit. “Very good, Captain Jay Marsh. Very clever, indeed. But it does not matter. The supreme commander has removed General Yamashita’s case from any Japanese participation. It has become an American military problem. So his fate is left
only to General MacArthur, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged, dropping it. For all his apparent dislike of General Yamashita, Kido was indeed correct. By setting up the special military commission and keeping the trial in the Philippines, MacArthur had removed the case from any further Japanese argument, much less jurisdiction.

  Finally I checked my watch. “We should go? It is a two-hour drive back to Tokyo. And first we must climb down from the mountain.”

  “Oh, going back is never a problem!” The lord privy seal was suddenly buoyant. “And anyway, we must make a stop in Atami. I have some private business to attend to.”

  I stifled a groan, wishing to be done with Kido and to get back to Tokyo. “I’ve been away for more than a week, Lord Privy Seal. I have many obligations to the supreme commander that I must catch up on.”

  “I will not be long.”

  We began walking back along the path that would take us down the steep, winding steps to the base of the mountain. Soon we passed near the shrine. The priestess watched us, kneeling on her cushion, twisting her long hair in her hands as if she were holding Rapunzel’s rope. I waved good-bye to her. She smiled, tossing her hair behind a shoulder and picking up her bamboo instrument. And as the wind whistled through the trees I could hear her begin once more to sing.

  Kido grinned conspiratorially to me, elbowing me as we walked. “We will be back before midnight. And I think you will not object that I have arranged for you to be entertained while I am off on my own?”

  It had already turned dark when we reached Atami. The moon was behind us, just above the mountain. Looking up I saw that it was casting a glow over the goddess of mercy as she stood watch near General Matsui’s Nanking shrine. The stars were coming out one at a time, so bright they seemed to crack their way into the sky. The town had already grown quiet. Long rows of paper lanterns hung in front of the inns and houses that crowded against its narrow, winding streets. The beaming lanterns marked our way, illuminating the roadside as if it were a yellow brick road.

  Off to the south and east I could hear the sea waves crashing as the moon pulled in the tide. A heavy salt spray mixed with the wind, filling the air with rainlike sparkles and the smells of seaweed and dead shellfish. We turned a corner. On the left side of the road I could now see the ocean. A handful of people still walked the beach, only their silhouettes visible in the gathering dark. Seagulls and cormorants played in the air and along the edges of the water. Far in the distance I could see a pier.

  Suddenly I missed my mother, with a completeness that told me she may as well be dead. The rumbling bounces of the old car, the odors of the sea in a crisp and lonesome autumn wind, the unknown of the darkened buildings we were passing, the distant, cobweb shadows of the pier, all combined to remind me somehow of the first night I had come to Santa Monica. It had only been ten years before, but that past life now seemed so surmounted as to have become unreachably in my past, even in a memory. Indeed, sitting in the old Daimler with the emperor’s most trusted adviser dozing next to me, the thought of having once been a bewildered refugee out to the West Coast from Arkansas seemed even more improbable than Kido’s dream that I had been chosen by the emperor’s ancestors to be their vehicle for gaining the understanding of MacArthur.

  Looking out at the strange but serene normality of Atami, I realized that I might never see my mother again. This was it, the Ever After, happily or not. I had gone everlastingly Asian. A part of my forever-world was passing by my window, lit only by the glow of paper lanterns, just as the rest of it waited patiently for me in the sultry, flower-lush gardens of Manila. I might once have been any number of other things, from farmer to salesman to philosopher, but all that had been bombed away at Pearl Harbor. Yes, I thought, not unpleasantly, I was born at Pearl Harbor. And I was not at all unhappy with the miracle of what I had become.

  The car stopped at a very old inn. The rear of the building backed up to a bluff that overlooked the sea. Below it was a grotto of rocks and sand. The surging sea waves crashed against the grotto, spewing cold salt spray high into the air. As Kido and I exited the car, the salt spray covered us like a gauzy curtain.

  “Ah!” cried the lord privy seal. He fretted as we walked, seeking to brush away the wetness from his sweater. “This is Scottish wool, you know? Very difficult to find these days! But it is all right. The spirits are surging at us from the sea tonight! A good sign, Captain Jay Marsh! A very good sign.”

  The front doors of the inn opened before we reached them, as if the smiling, bowing old man who was its keeper had been standing patiently behind them for hours, awaiting our arrival. Yoshiko was behind him, half hidden just inside the doorway, dressed in a sea blue kimono. Seeing me, she smiled sweetly, her eyes secretly delicious in her anticipation. She bowed, then took my hand, welcoming me inside.

  “Hello, Jay Marsh. I am so happy that you came tonight!”

  She was beautiful, I could not deny it, and I knew the promises that lay behind the expectation in her eyes. She was the very embodiment of both good and evil, and that was my dilemma. She had a way of making me feel all-powerful at the very moment that I felt ashamed. And Father Garvey would not understand, but I also felt oddly responsible for Yoshiko. It was I, not she, who had set all this in motion. I had first chosen her with my eyes. At some level her very future depended upon Lord Privy Seal Kido’s knowledge that she pleased me.

  “Hello, Yoshiko. You look very beautiful tonight. How is it that you’re here in Atami?”

  She looked away coyly, covering her mouth as she smiled. “Sometimes I stay here for weekend relaxation.”

  I smiled back to her, even as I was silently cursing Kido. “Well, then we should have dinner together.”

  I knew exactly what would happen once I entered the inn. She would take me down a flight of stairs into a private room. She would slide a bamboo wall, opening our room up to the wild, dark beauty of the grotto and the fresh smells of the sea. There would be a deep furo bath carved into the stone floor. She would fill it and carefully take off her kimono. I would undress—yes, without being prodded—and sink slowly into the scalding water. She would climb into the furo with me and then bathe me until I was numb from the heat and from the strength of her kneading fingers. She would feed me tasty niblets as I soaked, giving me little sips of beer or sake to wash down the food. Then she would take me to a futon and make love to me until all my energy was sapped.

  A part of me thrilled in this knowledge. Another, greater part angrily whispered its condemnation of my elation. But it did not matter. Walking inside the inn, I surrendered to its inevitability. This was the world I had inherited. This was my reality. I, more than Yoshiko, had become the prostitute. I was the emissary of MacArthur. I was the messenger to MacArthur. I had assumed an importance, false or otherwise, that I did not even fully understand. And until I was freed from this burden, it would be both my wages and my reward to undergo the very pleasures that I guiltily condemned.

  Kido had stopped at the doorway. Now he was checking his watch. “My business will be done in two hours. That will be enough time for you to have a full and enjoyable dinner?”

  She was kneeling at my feet, taking off my shoes. Her hands were strong and sure along my ankles. I did not want to feel this way, but watching the contours of her neck and the smooth lines of her back, I was already wildly aroused. “Two hours will be fine, Lord Privy Seal.”

  “Excellent!” he said. “And so I hope you will find the pleasures of Atami greatly to your liking.”

  My shoes were off. She had stood, and was taking me by the hand again. We reached the stairway that led down to our private room. The sea waves crashed and swirled inside the nearby grotto, making me feel as though she was leading me into a mysterious underwater kingdom.

  Before I went downstairs I stared one last time out through the still-open doorway. Kido waved to me, climbing back into the car. Watching his knowing, possessive smile, I decided that I hated him. He was playing to my weakness. I could
not deny my own responsibility. But still I vowed that, no matter what else became of me, before I left Japan I would make sure that his condescending grin forever disappeared.

  CHAPTER 19

  Something funny happened while you were gone, monkey boy. Funny odd, not funny ha-ha.”

  Thus summoned, I walked into the legal office and sat comfortably across from Colonel Sam Genius. He was alone in the room, his two assistants having left for meetings outside the Dai Ichi building. His elbows were on his desk, pushing into a disorganized pile of papers. He leaned forward, working his hands over his face and along the top of his head. His uniform was so sweaty and wrinkled that it looked like he had slept in it. But he was fixing me with one of those I’m-going-to-Princeton grins that the smartest kid in the class always reserves for the competitor schoolmate who barely misses out.

  I smiled back, refusing to take his bait. “Stop pulling on your hair like that, Colonel. You’ll be bald by the time they send you home.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, his smile turning glorious and secretive. “I can guarantee you I will have approximately this much hair when I leave the good General behind.”

  “You’re getting transferred.”

  He shook his head, but it had been a fair surmise. Except for those few of us who were being held in Japan after our personnel files were stamped “essential to the occupation,” the men who had served MacArthur during the long journey to Japan were gone. The war had ended less than two months before, but already a majority of the occupation army were soldiers fresh from the States, who had never before been overseas. And half of MacArthur’s ever-burgeoning staff were new civilians, arriving fresh-faced and goo-goo-eyed on every new flight from Washington. The sprawling bureaucracy he was creating inside the Dai Ichi building would soon require a 278-page phone book.