by James Webb
“No, there will never be another MacArthur.” I eyed him steadily. “The United States does not wish to rule Japan. In the end we desire a partner, not a colony. But you have two big problems, Lord Privy Seal. The longer you and the emperor resist his changes to the constitution, the longer MacArthur will stay. And the longer it takes to find those accountable for war crimes, the more the outside world will continue to demand that the emperor be brought to trial.”
“Ah, so,” he said, studying me with a newfound seriousness. “We have talked about this.” He puffed on his pipe for a moment. “And how is the Yamashita trial?”
“The trial, Lord Privy Seal, is a disgrace. He’ll be hung. But let me warn you: it’s not going to make a difference on the issue of political war crimes. Yamashita was a field commander. Our allies are demanding that we find accountability inside the Tokyo government.” I watched him for another moment. “And how is Prince Nashimoto enjoying his time in Sugamo Prison?”
“The emperor is deeply upset over the imprisonment of his favorite uncle,” said Kido immediately. “I would say he is angry, but the emperor remains above anger. I will tell you personally, Captain Jay Marsh, because you have been so helpful. The emperor has been most cooperative. He has given up a great deal in order to end the suffering of our people. But if Prince Nashimoto is charged, the emperor has decided to abdicate to Kyoto and work against MacArthur.”
“We must cooperate with each other to keep this from happening,” I said.
“As always, I must thank you for your precious advice,” said the lord privy seal.
“There is only one solution,” I said.
“I am anxious to hear your thoughts,” he replied.
“We must protect the emperor and his blood relatives at all costs.”
“Exactly,” said Kido, nodding sagely as he relit his pipe.
“But in the eyes of the world there is a debt to be paid. It will only be paid if someone near the emperor is held accountable for the advice he received which led to certain unspeakable acts.”
He continued to watch me carefully, breathing slowly as he puffed on his kiseru pipe. The pipe had gone out again but he still sucked on it as if it were lit. “General Tojo has already been charged,” he finally said.
“Not close enough. Indeed, not high enough.”
“He was the prime minister.”
“And who chose him, Lord Privy Seal?”
We stared silently at each other for several seconds. Kido gently placed the pipe onto its tray. He reached over and picked up the teapot.
“More tea?”
“No thank you, Lord Privy Seal, but I will light a cigarette if you don’t mind.”
I took out a cigarette and he struck a match, lighting it for me. In the front garden the dog barked at a passing jeep. In another part of the house a cricket began to chirp. I thought briefly of Father Garvey, now spending his last night on his canvas cot before heading back to do his penance for having fallen in love. Kido glanced briefly up at the gaku over his front entrance. I took another drag off my cigarette. Then finally he sighed.
“Prince Konoye’s family has served as the emperors’ internal advisers for more than two thousand years. But from what you are saying, he would not be protected. He is not of the imperial blood.”
“He gave the advice. Bad decisions were then made. He should be charged.”
“And I myself?” His voice trailed away as if it were an unfinished thought, but it came out as a question.
“To protect the emperor and his family,” I said, steadily holding his seemingly astonished gaze, “Prince Nashimoto should be allowed to return to his duties at the Ise Shrine. Our allies must be silenced in their pursuit of the emperor himself.”
“Are you saying we should make this offer?”
“Privately. Through me. It should be considered.”
The lord privy seal took a deep breath, sucking air through his teeth for a long time. Finally he stood. I put out my cigarette and stood also, staring at him from across the small table. Then he bowed slightly, ending our visit, and gestured toward the door. His face took on a firmness as we walked. His voice was a full octave lower.
“You are sure?”
I nodded as I leaned over and began pulling on my shoes. I had begun to like this idea of the lord privy seal going to jail very much as I elaborated on it. But I was certain of nothing, except that Koichi Kido had wielded quiet and unfathomable influence with the emperor. And that a portion of my personal crisis with Divina Clara was the result of his having smoothly rewarded my most secret desires. And that my freedom from Douglas MacArthur depended also on my freedom from this medieval, symbiotic alliance.
“Regretfully, I am certain, Lord Privy Seal.”
My shoes were on. He opened the door for me, bowing as I walked past him into the outside garden.
“Then I will discuss this matter with the emperor.”
“A very wise decision. Good night, Lord Privy Seal. Please give my thanks to your friend.”
“My friend?”
I winked, as if sharing a secret. “The owner of the house.”
He smiled grimly back. “Yes, of course. My bitter friend. Good night, Captain Jay Marsh.”
I began to whistle softly as I reached the jeep. Driving away in the black night air I could not help but thank General Douglas MacArthur for having trained me so well in the skills of cutthroat diplomacy. And I knew that if he found out I had negotiated on these issues without his permission, I would be on the first ship home.
As a prisoner in the brig.
CHAPTER 24
Good morning, General.”
“Good morning, Jay. Welcome back.” MacArthur paced before his window, barely glancing at me as I took my seat next to Court Whitney on the old leather couch inside his office. “Obviously, General Reynolds took my message to heart?”
An irrepressible anger welled up inside me. I tried to restrain it, nodding respectfully. “He was thoroughly prepared, sir.” But I could not leave it at that. The whole so-called trial was too obscene. “As you must know, General, it’s turning into quite a nightmare.”
“A nightmare?” The supreme commander threw a harsh, disapproving look my way.
“A veritable circus, sir. A dog and pony show.”
“I hope you’re not talking like that in Manila.”
I was in no mood to be polite. The knowledge of what I had to do, the memory of the sweltering klieg-lighted sham proceedings, the exhaustion, the thought that I was not yet even a husband but would soon be a father, all of it welled up inside me at once, impelling me finally to abandon my constant facade of contriteness. “Oh, I’m not, sir. I don’t need to say a word. Everybody else is talking. Particularly the American press, in case you haven’t been reading the papers.”
He was scrutinizing me closely now, as if he were daring me to contradict him again. “From what I’m being told, the general is doing quite a fine job in these proceedings.”
I calmly mocked him. “Depending on what you’re looking for, sir. General Reynolds is clearly a well-trained—poltroon.”
“Poltroon?” General Charles Willoughby glared at me from his usual chair, amazed. “I don’t know what it means but it sounds offensive.”
“It was meant to be, sir.”
“You’re speaking about a general officer in the United States Army.”
“That’s actually part of the problem, isn’t it, General Willoughby? And I’ll bet he gets promoted once this thing is over, too.”
Whitney and Willoughby had been with the supreme commander for nearly an hour prior to my having been called into his office. When I entered the office, all three had seemed to be in unusually buoyant spirits. Now they were looking at one another as if I were emanating a weird body odor. I had never before directly contradicted Douglas MacArthur, and I had meant to ease into my confrontation, but it was too late. I knew from hundreds of other such meetings that if I were to back down now and apologize for my cynical and m
ildly disrespectful replies, then the three of them would pile on top of me so completely that I would never regain the momentum necessary to confront them. MacArthur would ridicule me, make his points, elicit my information, neglect to seek my advice, and then send me back to my own office, probably with further orders to communicate to Manila.
So after three years of playing the jester, the moment had come for me to face MacArthur like a man. He was not going to like what I had to say. At the same time I knew I lacked the devilish cleverness of Sam Genius. But I vowed that if nothing else, I would not leave his office, and probably his staff, to be remembered as a sycophantic robot.
MacArthur had recovered, although he still watched me curiously as he paced. “You may have had a—disappointing experience with General Reynolds, Jay, and we—appreciate your candor. But in all other respects, I understand the proceedings have been immensely positive. They’ve been fully supported by the Filipino people, widely covered by—”
“General, I’m prepared to give you a full report on the Yamashita trial, but something very important has come up.”
He stopped pacing and turned to face me, clearly irritated. It was the first time I had ever talked back to Douglas MacArthur, and now I had also interrupted him.
“I was summoned to a meeting by the emperor’s lord privy seal last night. They want to make a deal, and I think you need to hear what they’re offering.”
I kept my seat on the weathered couch, looking expectantly toward him. His whole face seemed to change as he stared down at me. With these past few exchanges I had already become a different creature in his eyes. I held his gaze, but inside I was afraid. I felt immediately stripped of his protection, somehow isolated and alone, like a suddenly rebellious teenaged son who had never before confronted his father.
“What are you talking about, Jay? The purpose of this meeting is for me to be debriefed on the Yamashita trial. And your orders with respect to the Japanese government have been clearly limited.”
“Sir, I know what you’re—”
But now he interrupted me. “I’m not finished! You are not empowered to negotiate with them. You are not authorized even to tell them our positions on anything. You are a listening post. Your duty is to report back to us. If a representative of the Japanese government contacts you to offer a negotiating position, it is your duty to refer them to General Whitney.”
“Sir, they didn’t want to talk to General Whitney.”
“That’s not for them to decide.”
I gave him an exasperated look. “I didn’t feel it was my place to say that to them. I had to make a decision, sir.” There was no retreat from what I had done, and it was too late to be intimidated. “They insisted on passing this information through me. This isn’t an issue for General Whitney. You need to hear this directly, sir.”
Court Whitney quickly weighed in, glaring from the other end of the couch. For the first time since I had been on MacArthur’s staff, he railed in anger at me. “What do you mean, it’s not an issue for me? Hold on, here, Captain. You’ve been under strict orders! These issues are too sensitive for some twenty-five-year-old captain to be wild-catting. We’re talking about the future of a country. And I’m running the entire political affairs operation for the occupation. You may believe this is a minor quibble, but you’re usurping my authority.”
General Willoughby was bristling with irritation. He leaned forward in his chair as if he were preparing to leap across the table and attack me. “Exactly! We have procedures,” he grumbled in his thick Teutonic accent. “You are not the person to be bringing this to General MacArthur’s attention. Questions must be examined and alternatives discussed before we can develop a position and take the General’s time.”
It was not lost on me that following Willoughby’s procedures, or allowing Court Whitney to proceed formally with the Japanese, might well be the first step in my own legal proceedings. Although the intricacy of the Japanese system was its own protection against anyone firmly contradicting my story, Whitney still might learn that I had arranged the meeting with Kido and made the proposal myself. I began to wonder if I could talk Frank Witherspoon into defending me once General Yamashita’s trial was over. I also began silently cursing Sam Genius for having inspired me on this quixotic path.
But there was only one way out of this. “I’m not trying to usurp anyone’s authority, General Whitney. The lord privy seal came to me with a communication from the highest level of the Japanese government. From the emperor, sir!” MacArthur’s eyes grew smoky at the mention of Hirohito. “What do you want me to do? I couldn’t simply turn him away, particularly since you’ve encouraged my relationship with Kido. And bringing it to you before it came to General MacArthur would risk having it talked about among the staff.”
My last comment infuriated Court Whitney even more. “Are you now attempting to insinuate that I would engage in inappropriate conduct, Captain Marsh?”
“No sir! But I didn’t know who might be overhearing us if I’d brought it up in your office. I had to make a judgment call, here.”
They were caught off guard, even perplexed. Watching these giants stare silently at me, I had a sense of just how deeply my loyalty was embedded in their expectations. I had sat politely in their midst for years and now was indeed like a little boy who had suddenly come of age before their eyes. This was Jay the jester, Jay the monkey boy, Jay the listening post, suddenly digging in his heels and asserting himself as a major player in their delicate negotiations. And in a way it scared them.
Whitney pointed a finger at me, an overt threat. “You could have talked to me privately. On political issues, I make the judgment calls.”
“Normally I agree with you, sir. But you’ve put me in some really difficult situations. I didn’t have time to contact you, and I decided that you’d trust me. I didn’t ask for this! And I’ve always done my duty, sir. Always.”
“That’s enough, Court,” said MacArthur. “He’s right about that. Now, calm down, Jay.”
MacArthur himself softened, turning to the other two. This was not necessarily a signal of support. He had done the same thing when allowing Sam Genius to proceed scarcely a week before, only moments before he had, in his own eyes, thrown the impish lawyer out of Japan. “We’re arguing about procedure when he’s been approached by the highest adviser to the emperor, with a proposal in hand. I think we at least need to hear what he has to say.”
“Thank you, General.”
“Don’t thank me, Captain Marsh,” said MacArthur coolly. “It wasn’t a compliment.” He turned to face me. “So what do they want?”
“They’re making an offer, and I think you ought to take it.” I watched Whitney bristle again at my presumptuous behavior but continued on. “You’re going to get what you want, General. This is the way to go.”
Willoughby could not restrain himself. “I will remind you again,” he said angrily. “You are a provider of information, Captain. A listener. A conduit. We are not interested in whether you think the offer should be accepted.”
I raised my chin, looking him full in the eyes. I was no longer afraid, no longer chained by the manacles of my rank, no longer even appreciative. I had earned my place inside this room, given them my loyalty and every ounce of my dedication. I was weary of the turf battles and fragile egos that gave the supreme commander’s staff the aura of a medieval court. And on this matter I knew far more than they did.
“General, don’t you find it odd that you’d trust me to communicate privately with the most powerful man in Japan other than the emperor himself, but when I come to you with a solution you expect me to behave like I’m some silly little recording secretary? I’m not just a pair of ears! I have a solution, sir! Don’t you even want to hear it?”
MacArthur had been eyeing me closely, taking in every twitch of my face, every movement of my hands and body, measuring me against some hidden referent borne of more than four decades of such meetings. I could tell he was seeing someth
ing in me that he felt he had missed before. But I could not ascertain what or why.
“Leave him alone,” he said, waving off both Whitney and Willoughby with the sweep of a hand. “All right, Jay, let’s hear it.”
“It’s very simple, General,” I began. “A very simple solution.”
“Nothing in Japan is simple,” interrupted Court Whitney.
“Court,” said MacArthur, this time commandingly. “Hear him out.”
I wheeled toward Whitney. “In all due respect, General Whitney, you may be an expert on the Philippines, but Tokyo isn’t Manila. I was a student of Japan even before the war began, sir. I understand how complicated this culture is far better than you do.”
I was breathing heavily again. My pulse was racing. Sweat was dripping from my armpits. But I held Court Whitney’s eyes for a long moment, until he dropped his own.
I turned back to MacArthur. “Sir, you want two things. You want the changes to the constitution, and you want to resolve the issue of political war crimes without having to charge either the emperor or any of his immediate family. Particularly Prince Asaka, who as you well know is guilty as hell.”
“We want a lot of things,” argued Willoughby. “And I will remind you that this talk about the emperor’s immediate family is highly classified!”
“Yes, General Willoughby, but can you deny that what I’m saying is true?” I now faced Willoughby directly. “I’ve been in the room with you for a long time, General. I’ve listened to the debates. I’ve run your errands. I’ve taken notes. Lots of notes. How can you imagine that I’m not aware of what you’re trying to do?”
There, I thought edgily. It’s done. I’ve said it. I’ve taken notes. In my simple words was the cautionary reminder that I not only shared their guilty knowledge but had recorded it, and that I would be forever, from this point forward, either a collaborator or a threat. Their choice.
“Let him talk,” commanded MacArthur again.
“Thank you, General.”
This time he did not ridicule me for thanking him. I gathered myself and began again. “OK, sir, two things. You can keep Prince Nashimoto in jail for a while, and I’m sure you’ll eventually win on the changes to the constitution. By now the emperor probably sees them as a small price to pay. Speaking personally, sir, they’ll have their little ways of finding loopholes to get around most of what you’re proposing so that it doesn’t go too far. On the surface the country will be implementing your changes, but underneath it will remain Japanese. That’s the way they’ve always worked, for thousands of years. Did you know they even took their famous tea ceremony from the Chinese? But they made it Japanese. The Chinese don’t even recognize it anymore. They’ll do the same thing with your constitution. It’ll take a while but they’ll absorb it, process it, refine it, and make the parts they don’t like evaporate before your eyes.”
