A Song For Lisa (11 page)

Lisa sensed the involvement of the listeners, and a
wonderful feeling of peace and contentment came over her. She had rediscovered
the power of music to enrich the human spirit and, at the same time, found a
part of herself that had been dormant for too long. She had a gift for musical
interpretation and intensity of involvement that few professional musicians are
privileged to possess. Lisa ended her playing with tears streaming down her
face. She was pleased that the people in the room liked her playing, but she
was especially thankful for what the music did for her. She had arrived at a
decision that would affect her for the rest of her life. The music had given
her the courage to accept the consequences. It was a moment in her life that
she would always remember.

Lisa announced that her last selection would be an old Irish
folk song called
Danny Boy
. When she had finished, cheers and claps
filled the room. She turned her wheelchair to face the audience and bowed
modestly, moved by their enthusiasm.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you liked it. It’s been a long time
since I had a chance to play.” Tears of joy and discovery filled her eyes, she
blushed shyly. She noticed Jonathon’s hospital bed near the door, and directed
her chair towards him.

Jonathon was smiling at her. “Your performance at the
keyboard was fabulous, Miss Carter.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You look much better today. I hope
your recovery will be complete,” said Lisa, eyeing Doctor Day standing in the
doorway. “Here comes Doctor Day.”

“I was worried about your absence from the ward,
Lieutenant,” announced the doctor. “Now I find you in here listening to another
patient of mine, Miss Carter. Isn’t her playing something special?”

“It sure is, doctor,” Jonathon agreed.

Lisa blushed again. “Don’t you know that flattery is the
last resort of fools?”

“Well, it’s true, Miss Carter. Your playing has lifted
morale on this deck fifty percent. I heard most of your selections down the
hallway. I love your rendition of
Clair de Lune
.”

“I’m glad you liked it, doctor,” replied Lisa.

“I came looking for you, Lieutenant, because there’s a
launch bringing an investigative officer aboard. He wants to speak to you about
the Medal of Honor. Are you prepared to meet with him?” inquired Doctor Day, as
he checked Jonathon’s pulse and heart rate.

“I hate to admit it, doctor, but I’m not very strong. My
headaches are still as severe as ever. There are bits and pieces of the raid
that are still fuzzy to me. I’ll do my best though,” Jonathon answered in a weak
voice.

Lisa watched Jonathon close his eyes. “I have to go now.
Madame June has told me that she’ll be looking in on you from time to time.
Thanks for being such a good listener, Lieutenant. Good-bye, Doctor Day.”

“I’ll see you around, Miss Carter,” replied the doctor.
“There goes a remarkable young lady. Conditions at the prison must have been
atrocious. Most of the inmates have progressed beyond our expectations.”

“Miss Carter has improved a lot…” Conversation was making
Jonathon weary. “Would you take me back to the ward, doctor? I’ll see the
awards officer whenever he’s ready.”

“I’ll tell him, Lieutenant,” assured the doctor, pushing the
bed towards the doorway. “I could stall him off until tomorrow.”

“I’d appreciate that, Doctor Day,” answered Jonathon,
closing his eyes and turning his head to a more comfortable position on the
pillow. 

That next morning, pain still wracked Jonathon’s body. His
left side felt as if it was on fire and every movement he made, within the
confines of the hospital bed, increased the pain. He rang for the nurse and
explained how he felt. She wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead
and stuck a thermometer in his mouth.

“You’re running a fever of 104 degrees,” the nurse announce
in a calm deliberate tone. “Drink all the water you can for now. I’m going to
get Doctor Day. Have you had malaria?”

“Not that I know of,” answered Jonathon, taking a swallow of
cold water from the glass the nurse held to his lips.

“Rest easy, Lieutenant. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere, nurse,” Jonathon responded in a
weak voice.

A badly wounded soldier at the opposite end of the ward
began to scream loudly. He was protesting the decision to cut off his severely
shattered arm. He was a farmer and needed it to run his farm when he returned
home. Jonathon heard Doctor Day’s reassuring voice trying to calm the young
soldier.

“I understand your position, Sergeant, but if we don’t
amputate soon, you’ll die from gangrene that has started to spread already. Do
hear me?”

“No,” screamed the disagreeing sergeant. “I… I….”

A few minutes later, Doctor Day stood over Jonathon checking
his pulse and temperature one more time. The doctor’s normal jovial demeanor
was shaken enough that even Jonathon, in his feverish condition, recognized his
sober mood.

“How old is the sergeant, doctor?”

“He just turned twenty, Lieutenant. The longer this war
lasts, the younger the wounded men are. He’ll be out for awhile. I’ve scheduled
him for surgery this morning. Now, Lieutenant, I’m commencing stronger antibiotics
to control your infection. The weakness and sore aching body you feel are
caused by the infections somewhere in your wounds. Drink all the liquids your
bladder can hold.”

“I’d just as soon stay away from that addictive pain killer
stuff,” Jonathon protested. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer old fashioned
aspirin. If it doesn’t work, I’ll try the stronger stuff.”

Doctor Day admired Jonathon’s strong constitution. “I agree
wholeheartedly, Lieutenant. The nurse will be in shortly. I’m due in the scrub room.
The awards officer is on board. Anytime you feel like talking to him, let the
nurse know.”

“Thanks.”

Later that afternoon, Jonathon awoke from a long nap. His
headache had disappeared and the pain in his leg and arm was less acute. The
fever was three degrees less than it was before Doctor Day prescribed
antibiotics, and he was hungry for the first time since he had been wounded.
The nurse offered him a chocolate frappe with an extra scoop of ice cream. It
tasted good, satisfying his hunger and soothing his parched throat. Feeling
much better, he told the nurse that he would see the awards officer.

Once again, sounds of piano music wafted through the ward.
Every patient that was awake cocked their heads to listen to the medley of folk
songs played by Lisa Carter. Jonathon listened carefully to the light touch the
former prisoner had on the piano keys. She rarely pounded them, even when
playing difficult classical selections. Lisa had the gift of conveying the
struggle between love and anger; happiness and despair; and choices and
consequences. There was something captivating about her style that allowed the
listener to become a part of the music, no matter what type she selected to
play. He heard her play an old favorite of his,
There’s A Gold Mine In The
Sky
. It brought memories of happier days in the rural town of Monson.

“You have a visitor, Lieutenant Wright,” reported a nurse,
interrupting his pleasant reverie.

“Thank you, nurse.”

A heavy-set infantry officer stepped into Jonathon’s line of
vision and introduced himself. “I’m Captain Gaines, awards officer for Sixth
Army.”

“Glad to meet you, Captain. Pull up a chair if you can find
one. I’m not sure that I can contribute anything that you don’t already know,”
declared Jonathon.

“Actually, Lieutenant, I’m most interested in your
perception of the escape once the bridge was blown. As you know, all
recommendations for the Medal of Honor are thoroughly investigated so that the
deeds of the men involved rise to standards established by congress for the medal.”
Captain Gaines paused a moment, noting the severity of Jonathon’s wounds and
continued in a measured, precise tone. “By investigating each case thoroughly,
the Medal of Honor continues to be the most coveted award in military history.
Many are chosen but few succeed in receiving the medal. The fact that every man
in your raiding party recommended you for the award speaks highly for your
courage and dedication to the mission. I salute you, Lieutenant.”

The two soldiers talked for an hour and a half. Jonathon
explained what they did and why he handled it that way. He ended the interview
with the following observation: “If I’m worthy of the medal, then every man in
the task force is entitled to the same treatment. They took the same risks I
did and fought just as tenaciously. Without them, the raid could not have been
conducted. If the medal is awarded to me, I want it understood by everyone
concerned, that I’ll wear it only on the condition that it is shared by the
soldiers who carried out my orders. They saved my life by bringing me out of
the battle alive. My driver lost his life in the same blast. It would be unfair
to his memory if the medal was only for me.”

“I applaud your strong feelings, Lieutenant, and I’m
inclined to agree with you. I’ve been doing this job now for two years and I’m
still in awe of the inherent courage of the American soldier. It’s been a
pleasure, Lieutenant Wright.” Captain Gaines stood up and moved his chair out
of the way. “I wish you a speedy and full recovery from your wounds.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Captain,” said Jonathon, closing
his eyes, leaning back against his pillow. The medal meant little to him. His
final statement to the Captain was true. Seconds later, he was sound asleep.

Lisa continued to play the piano and rest as the hospital
ship slowly plowed through the deep waters of the Pacific towards Pearl Harbor.
Physically she was feeling stronger by the day, and her eyesight was improving
so that she only used the magnifying glasses to read. Every waking moment she deliberated
over the decision she had to make. Some of her dreams were filled with
grotesque images of people with Japanese facial features.

One night she woke up from a nightmare depicting her stomach
full of large blood-sucking worms. She screamed and screamed and pounded on her
stomach to kill the slimy crawling creatures. Talking to the chaplain did not
help her. She had the feeling that he had little empathy for how she thought
about the situation. Time was running out and a decision had to be made.

She meticulously evaluated every aspect of the issue using
her own standards of right and wrong. At times she was afraid she was going
mad. The baby growing inside of her was becoming a tortuous burden. One day she
wanted to be free of it and the next day she would hear the lonely cry of a
baby in her sleep. She woke up filled with doubts. The dilemma was consuming
her. Days went by with no clear resolution to the problem. Lisa experienced a
turning point in her deliberations one day when she and Madame June visited
Lieutenant Wright in his ward. They were permitted to wheel his bed onto the
deck so that he could be in the sun and watch the ocean.

“I really appreciate a chance to get out of the ward,”
Jonathon said. He was still being heavily medicated with antibiotics, but he
was improving. His color was near normal and his appetite was increasing daily.
“When I see how badly some of the men are wounded, I feel fortunate. Just being
able to eat a normal meal when I’m hungry is a blessing. If I ever cease to be
thankful for all my blessings, then God should punish me.”

“We’ll be in Pearl Harbor soon,” said June, checking the
blankets around Jonathon. “We don’t want you to catch a cold, Lieutenant.”

Lisa was quieter than usual. She had become more withdrawn
since Doctor Day informed her of her condition. She had shared it only with
June, who understood her wide mood swings.

“I expect we’ll be parting company at Pearl. I’m not sure if
I’ll be held there until I’m recovered or shipped on to the States,” Jonathon wondered
aloud. “My wife, Hope, has probably been notified of my wounds.”

“Where is your home, Lieutenant?” Lisa asked, thinking how
his wife must be worried about him.

“I grew up in Monson, a small town in northern Maine. My
wife and daughter live there with my parents.”

“We’re practically neighbors,” exclaimed Lisa, thinking how
appropriate it was that he was from northern New England. “I lived in Twin
Mountains, New Hampshire.”

“I thought I detected a down east accent,” Jonathon smiled
at her.

“You must miss your wife and daughter,” inquired June.

“I haven’t seen either of them since late 1941. Faith was
only six months old at the time. She’s the joy of my life. She won’t know me
when I get home,” Jonathon said with a sigh. “Life took on a new meaning for me
when she was born. Without children, we don’t reach our full potential. Hope
claims that she would be lost without the baby to care for. Little children are
our hope for a better world.” Lisa and June saw the tears forming in his eyes.
Suddenly he looked tired and drawn.

“Why don’t we take you back to the ward, Lieutenant, so that
you can rest easier.” June and Lisa directed the cumbersome bed toward the
door. Jonathon was overcome with memories of home and family. Lisa excused
herself after they had placed his bed in the ward.

Touched by his devotion to his wife and daughter, Lisa
reflected on his comments about the value of children. Normally, she would have
agreed with his assessment, but her situation was unique. A child should be the
product of a man and woman in love with each other. Was it fair for her to
bring a child into the world without a father to love it? Also, was it fair for
her to subject a child to ridicule and possible hatred because of its ancestry
when the child had nothing to say about that? These questions ran through her
head hourly without any answers.

After hours of praying and deep self-analysis, Lisa arrived
at a decision. Five minutes later, she was sitting in Doctor Day’s office. He
led her into the examination room and gave her a thorough physical examination.
She had come to respect the kind and gentle doctor and was prepared to share
her thoughts with him.