A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  “Within two hours, sir,” Jonathon answered. “What’s the situation in Korea?”

  “The North Koreans have crossed the thirty-eighth parallel with massive numbers of tanks and men. They’re meeting light resistance. All we have in Korea are a few military advisers. Everything we have in Japan will soon be put into the fray. We’ve got to stop their advance. Any questions?”

  “How will we get to Korea?” Jonathon asked.

  “By plane. As soon as enough soldiers assemble to fill a plane, off they go. You’ll have to sort them out once you get on the ground in Korea.” Colonel Lee was asking a lot of Jonathon.

  Jonathon swallowed hard at his new orders. His mind was running wild absorbing the responsibilities of commanding a regiment. He was going back into combat with a rag-tag group of men grown soft on occupational duty. “I don’t like it, Colonel Lee, but I’ll do my best.”

  Twenty-four hours later, Jonathon stepped off a DC-3 transport plane in Pusan, South Korea. He was met by an orderly for General Walker, commander of the Eighth Army and all US forces in Korea.

  “I’m Captain Downs. General Walker asked me to meet you, Colonel Wright.”

  Jonathon, dressed in field clothes, was carrying a small duffel bag with personal gear, a thirty-caliber carbine over his shoulder and a forty-five-caliber pistol on his belt. “I’m glad to meet you, Captain.” Jonathon returned the young Captain’s salute and looked around the airfield. It was a beehive of activity.

  “I have a Jeep just off the runway, Colonel Wright. There’s been a change of plans. You’ve been assigned to a regiment on the line south of Seoul. Their commander and assistant commander have both been killed. Your job is to hold the main road link between Pusan and Seoul. We need time to build up our forces. You’re part of that blocking force to buy us that time.”

  “Are things that grim?” asked Jonathon, following the Captain to the Jeep.

  “Between you and me, it doesn’t look good.”

  Jonathon was given a briefing on the current situation at Walker’s HQ in Pusan. The North Koreans were smashing through every attempt by the South to block the roads. US troops were not doing much better. The North Koreans were using Russian tanks that were almost impossible to knock out with the light-weight rocket launchers then available to the Army. Artillery was almost non-existent. The order issued by Walker to US troops was to “hold at every cost.” It sounded good in press releases, but to Jonathon it sent a chilling message that he and his men were expendable. Every career soldier understands that at some unexpected time he may find himself in that agonizing situation. It angered Jonathon because he had seen how ill-prepared the occupation troops were in Japan and no one listened. Now, they were paying a heavy price for indifference and lack of preparedness.

  Jonathon was given command of the twenty-second regiment positioned south of Seoul. A helicopter was waiting for him. He climbed aboard without full knowledge of the chaotic conditions in Korea. Jonathon left without any situation report and without any specific orders except to delay enemy forces for as long as it was humanly possible to do the job. He interpreted the orders to mean stand until total destruction was imminent before giving ground to the enemy. On board the helicopter he met an old friend from the last war, Major Hal Jacobs. Jonathon embraced the muscular West Point graduate. The last time they had seen each other was on Luzon right after Jonathon was wounded.

  “Where are you headed, Hal?” asked Jonathon, glad to see him.

  “I’m your new executive officer, Colonel. I was surprised to see your name on the latest roster. How have you been? I heard about Hope. I’m sorry. I also heard rumors that you were thinking of retiring,” replied Hal, hanging on to the safety straps.

  “I gave it all up when I lost Hope, Hal. I almost lost my daughter too. I just wasn’t ready to leave the army after Hope’s death. It’s been hard on Faith. Thankfully she’s with my mother in Maine.”

  “Thank God there’s someone waiting for you to come home to,” Hal exclaimed. “You know we’ve been handed one hot potato don’t you?”

  “I’ve come to the same conclusion. We’ll just have to do the best we can with what we’ve got. Rangers are used to accomplishing the impossible,” answered Jonathon with a sly grin. “I’m really glad to have you with us, Hal. I feel better already about the task ahead.”

  The helicopter hovered directly above an open field at an elevation of two hundred feet. Small arms fire began hitting the aircraft. The pilot dropped behind a clump of pine trees landing with a heavy thud. Jonathon and Hal exited the craft and ran toward a Jeep pulled up just outside the rotors of the helicopter.

  A nervous corporal motioned for them to get in the Jeep. “We’re under attack.”

  “Where’s the regimental command post?” Jonathon asked, gasping for breath as he and Hal climbed into the racing Jeep.

  “We’ve been overrun, Colonel,” replied the corporal, driving the Jeep at full speed along a cart track between two rice paddies. The smell was overpowering. “You get used to it after a while,” noted the young driver.

  The regiment was straddling a main road leading to Pusan. Two of its battalions had been decimated and were no longer viable fighting formations. Most of the officers had been killed. The third battalion was commanded by an inexperienced second lieutenant, fresh out of ROTC. Jonathon and Hal looked at each other in disbelief. The command post was a tarpaulin stretched between a half-track and several trees. A map was attached to one of the trees.

  Jonathon glanced at the map to orient himself, but it didn’t tell him anything. He asked the driver how the battalion was positioned along the road. The young corporal never had a chance to answer the question. A squad of North Korean soldiers had broken through the blocking battalion’s line. The corporal was bayoneted. Jonathon killed three of the enemy with his carbine, driving the others to cover.

  “My God,” cried Jonathon. There was nothing he nor Hal could do except defend themselves against waves of North Korean soldiers that surrounded them. For two hours they held the hordes at bay until they ran out of ammunition. Jonathon slung the carbine over his shoulder and pulled his pistol. A North Korean soldier had managed to circle around them. He fired a full burst from his submachine gun at Jonathon. The force of the burst momentarily lifted him in the air before he collapsed on the ground.

  Hal ran to the North Korean soldier, and with his bare hands, broke his neck. Then, he picked up the submachine gun and ran to Jonathon’s side. For a moment the area was quiet. Suddenly the pulsating whir of helicopter blades could be heard. Hal looked up at the ungainly birds. The pilot was looking for a place to make a landing and hovered over a small section of a rice paddy. Hal picked up Jonathon and slung him over his shoulder and began a sprint to the helicopter. Enemy fire riddled Hal’s body just as he dumped Jonathon on the floor of the helicopter. A soldier in the helicopter fired several bursts from his mounted machine gun, then stopped to drag Hal onto the floor, screaming for the pilot to lift off. The pilot pulled for full throttle as the craft shuddered from enemy fire. For what seemed an eternity, the aircraft vibrated violently and began to rise. The floor of the helicopter was covered with blood.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Three months later, Lisa moved to an apartment in Durham. She had been offered a job at the University of New Hampshire as a music instructor, after resigning her full-time position with the Boston Pops. The commute and expense back and forth from northern New Hampshire to Boston had taken too much of her time. Several of her acquaintances had formed a New Hampshire Symphony Orchestra with a base at the university. Lisa’s acceptance of a position with the orchestra led to a salaried job at the university which paid more than her teaching job at Twin Mountains. The best part of the job was that she could take better care of Terry and spend more time with him. A normal life without long separations was something she looked forward to. Lisa was feeling good about the way her life was going.

  Terry was already enrolled in the Durham
kindergarten class. The days she could not be home after Terry completed classes, a next door neighbor looked after him. She had a daughter in the same class as Terry.

  The first week of September had been hectic. Lisa had to prepare outlines for the three classes a week she had contracted for. She liked the academic atmosphere of the campus. The energy of the students was contagious. There was also a very serious down-to-earth demeanor among the older students, who made up sixty percent of the student body. They were World War II veterans taking advantage of one of the most generous pieces of legislature to come out of Washington—the G.I. Bill of Rights.

  An education was made available to them, and the campuses of the nation were filled with mature men motivated and focused on obtaining an education. They introduced a more serious element to campus life overshadowing the excesses of the younger students. They had little time for frivolity or partying. The horrors of combat could be seen in the eyes of many of the veterans. The veterans gave a mature element of stability and purpose to the campus that would disappear soon after they graduated.

  Lisa related to the veterans, for she too had experienced the war in a very unique way. Yet, she worried that the veterans on campus would be the most likely group to be critical of Terry. Consequently, she avoided taking him on campus because she did not want to subject him to an unpleasant incident with those men who might still harbor hatred for the Japanese. So far, she had not experienced any derogatory remarks. She frequently drew inquiring glances at grocery stores and other public places when Terry was with her, but many simply looked and wondered without passing judgment. She never explained his ancestry to strangers, and continued to keep her life as private as possible.

  Lisa was content to stay at home with Terry when her work at the university and with the orchestra were completed. Occasionally she attended school functions, but felt uncomfortable and often out of place. She was beginning to get the reputation of a recluse.

  The last Friday of the month Lisa returned mid-day to their apartment. Terry was still at school. She fixed a glass of lemonade and sat down at the kitchen counter when the phone rang.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Is this Miss Lisa Carter?” asked a voice she did not recognize.

  “Who’s calling?” she asked, unwilling to give her name to a stranger.

  “I’m sorry, this is Colonel Jonathon Wright,” answered a weak-sounding voice.

  “Now, I recognize your voice, Colonel. Yes, this is Lisa. How did you get my new phone number?”

  “I called the Boston Pops business office for your number and address. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.” Jonathon’s voice was barely audible.

  “Of course not,” she answered. “Are you all right, Colonel? I can barely hear you.”

  “Not really,” he answered. “I’ve been assigned to the Portsmouth Naval Yard Hospital for recuperation and therapy. I was wounded in Korea the second day of the war. I’ve been in a lot of hospitals. They decided to send me to the hospital nearest to my home in Maine. I picked Portsmouth because when I get out I’m going to be assigned for a two-year tour of duty as commander of the ROTC unit in Durham.”

  “What a coincidence,” remarked Lisa pleased to hear the news. “I just took a job here.”

  “I understand that. Listen, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to talk coherently. They just gave me a shot to ease the pain. Would it be possible for you to come down to the hospital? I have something I want to discuss with you, and I don’t want to do it over the phone. I apologize if I sound mysterious, but you’ll understand when I tell you.”

  “I could drop by later this afternoon or early evening,” Lisa suggested, wondering what he wanted to talk about.

  “Early evening will be fine with me. I’ll be finished with my exercises by then. It’ll be nice to see you again, Miss Carter.”

  “I’ll be there by seven o’clock. If something comes up, do you have a number I can call?”

  “Yes, it’s room 88, phone number 92-W, and it’s a direct line to my hospital bed. I hope I’m not interrupting any of your plans.”

  “Colonel Wright!” she scolded. “You’re not interfering with anything. Rest well now, and I’ll see you soon.”

  Jonathon answered with a thick tongue. “Thanks.”

  Lisa hung up the receiver and thought about the first time she had met the brave soldier. The feeling of giving up on life was something she would never forget. Thinking of it now was frightening, but back then, suicide looked like an easy way to eliminate the cruelties they had to endure. Then, out of the dark jungle a figure burst into the room while the Japanese commandant was violating her. The door broke in small pieces and the next thing she knew, the commandant was cringing on the floor, a pathetic human being. In that split second she no longer wanted to die, the world had changed!

  The calm and gentle persuasion he brought to her in that room as he tried to comfort her, was an experience she had relived over and over. She and the other inmates were inspired by the Rangers. They not only saved lives, they gave new meaning to many who had lost the will to live. Lisa was one of the first to acknowledge that fact. She was anxious to bring Terry to see Jonathon. The Colonel’s reaction was important to her.

  Lisa waited at the driveway to her apartment for Terry’s bus, visible in the distance. He and their neighbor’s son, Ralph, stepped off the bus. Ralph was first. When he saw Lisa, he turned to look at Terry, who had been crying. His eyes were swollen and red. Terry saw his mother waiting and ran to her.

  “What’s the matter, Terry,” she demanded, picking him up.

  The young woman driver of the bus held the door open and stepped out to speak to Lisa. “Your son was sitting minding his own business when some of the older kids in the back began talking loud and hatefully about the Japanese. They messed up his hair and ripped his shirt before I noticed what was going on. I broke up the scuffle and have the names of the children involved,” the driver handed a sheet of paper to Lisa. “I’m sorry this happened. I kicked the boys off the bus for a week. Your son has been a well-mannered little gentleman, and he did nothing to draw such behavior to himself.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Lisa told the driver. “This is only his second week at a new school. I don’t know what to do, but I’ll do what I can to make sure there’s no repeat performance.”

  “Good luck. If you need me for anything, give me a call.”

  “Thanks,” Lisa replied.

  The driver climbed back into the bus and drove off.

  Lisa turned to Terry. “Did you hear the driver?”

  “Yes,” he answered, waving bye to Ralph.

  “Did you see it, Ralph?” Lisa asked.

  “Those older guys just kept calling him names like Tojo and hari-kari,” answered Ralph. “We were sitting together and they kept cuffing him on the head. I was scared they would hurt me too.”

  “Well, we’ll see that they don’t do that again. Thanks for being a friend to Terry. Now you better run along so that your mother won’t worry about you.”

  “See you Monday, Terry,” hollered Ralph, running home.

  Lisa took Terry’s hand and walked slowly into the apartment. This was the first incident where another person had made racial slurs to his face. Lisa was furious that it had happened so early in the school year when he was alone in a completely strange environment. She had prayed that it would be a positive time in his young life. Lisa looked down at him and her heart beat faster. She loved him with all the love a mother was capable of having.

  Terry was a quiet child that any mother would be proud of. He was like a small adult in many ways. He walked into the house beside his mother still holding her hand. There was a determined look on his face that made her want to cry. It wasn’t defiance, but it reflected an inner strength that the five-year-old was going to make the best of an uncomfortable situation. He was not afraid. What bothered him the most was that his friends on the bus had seen him crying. It was
his first encounter with racism and Lisa was concerned, yet, there was an element of relief that the inevitable meeting had taken place. She was encouraged with the way Terry had handled the situation.

  As soon as they got in the house, Lisa called the numbers the bus driver had given to her. There were three boys. Two were brothers and the third was a neighbor further down the road. Lisa called the home of the two boys, Larry and Thomas Holmes.

  Mrs. Holmes answered. “Hello.”

  “Hello. This is Lisa Carter. Are you the mother of Larry and Thomas Holmes?”

  “Yes, is anything wrong?” asked Mrs. Holmes, detecting a determined tone in Lisa’s voice.

  “That all depends on how one looks at it,” claimed Lisa, proceeding to tell her what had taken place on the bus. “Before I continue, I want to know what you plan to do about it. The bus driver witnessed most of the episode.”

  “Was your son hurt?”

  “Not physically, but who knows what such behavior has on a five-year-old? My son Terry, is a Japanese-American, and I’m not going to stand by and have him accosted and insulted by older boys who should know better,” promised Lisa, trying to control her anger. Normally she was very much in control of her emotions, but the thought of someone taking advantage of her son unleashed a powerful urge to seek justice.

  Mrs. Holmes detected the rage and offered an apology for her son’s behavior. “I can assure you that your son will never be treated that way by my boys again. Give me a half hour, Mrs. Carter, and I’ll be there at your place with the boys. I’d say that the first order of business is an apology to you and your son.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Mrs. Holmes. Thank you for being so fair-minded,” Lisa replied, breathing easier.

  “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

  True to her word, Mrs. Holmes pulled into the driveway with the two boys. She made them walk up the stairs to the porch in front of her and ring the doorbell.

  Lisa saw the two boys on the porch. They were not very happy. She opened the door. “Hello, I’m Terry’s mother.”