Ken's War (21 page)

The army jeep sped by, ground its gears, and
reversed.

“Does your father know you are out this time
of the night with a...?” Major Bellamy, in the driver’s seat, made
a spitting noise. Kohanski’s flashlight beam stabbed Ken’s
eyes.

“It’s not night.” Ken attacked the part of
the question that didn’t pose troublesome implications.

“It’s, hmm, oh-five-hundred hours,” Major
Kohanski said. “What say we give these kids a lift back?”

“That’s OK,” Ken said. His dad would be in
bed for another hour and a half, long enough for Ken to think of
how to face him, what to say, what not to say. “We don’t need a
ride. We’ll walk.”

“Hmm, if Paderson finds out we didn’t give
his son a lift, we’ll be in deeper—”

“Shut your flappin’ mouth,
Kohumski,”
Bellamy fumed. Leveling his voice, he told Ken, “If I was you, I’d
say goodbye to your friend here, you know, and hop in the jeep.
Your old man will go easier on you if you don’t bring your friend
along.”

“I’m not afraid of my father! I didn’t do
anything wrong!”

“If that’s true, why won’t you climb on
board?” Bellamy asked.

Ken helped Yasuko into the back of the
jeep.

Bellamy glared at the young Japanese woman,
and again at Ken. “You’re too full of piss and vinegar.” His voice
hinted at a grudging admiration.

“Jerk,” Ken muttered.

The major drove too fast over ruts and fallen
branches. The jeep bounced over a downed palm tree, launching the
four passengers off their seats. Yasuko half-stood to catch her
geisha doll as it flew off her lap. Ken threw himself onto Yasuko
to hold her and the doll down.

He wasn’t worried for himself. He’d take
whatever punishment his dad dished out, and if his dad tried to hit
him, why, he’d flip him on his ass. If that didn’t work, he could
at least bring his old man to his knees, he was sure of that.

What were Yasuko’s parents going to do to her
when she returned home? How would they punish her? Would it be
swift and symbolic? Would it be cruel and life changing? Whatever
her punishment was to be, it would be worse than what his father
would do to him, because Yasuko wouldn’t do anything to defend
herself or assert herself. She would bear heavy shame for
disobeying her parents, a bigger deal for her than for Americans
like him. He looked at her and couldn’t read anything from her cool
expression.

“What will your parents do?” he asked.

“They will do nothing to you.”

So this was how she thought of him, a coward,
only worried about his own hide. “That’s not what I meant!” he
protested. “I told you, I’m not afraid. It’s you I’m worried about.
Can’t you understand that, or don’t Japanese care about other
people?”

The ease with which he’d unleashed this cruel
remark surprised him. Maybe it was because she’d lured him to her,
knowing that her parents would strongly disapprove of the
relationship.

“Sorry,” he said, thinking that he wasn’t the
only one who should be apologizing.

She shook her head.

Ken remembered the undisguised pride with
which Mr. Watanabe had explained the concept of filial duty to Ken,
after they’d all seen that Japanese movie.

Ken looked at the side of Yasuko’s face until
she turned toward him. He said, “Your Japanese culture isn’t the
only one with filial duty.”

She turned away from him.

He knew she’d heard what he’d said. Ken
continued, “My dad brought me here to Japan to be with him. He
could have left me in the States. But he didn’t. We stick by each
other.”

Saying it felt good, mighty good.

The jeep neared the village where the Quonset
hut was. The milky dawn dimly illuminated the road, littered with
flattened lanterns. Geothermal steam and mist rising from the earth
made seeing all but impossible. Houses leaped to the roadside.
Trees sprang up, long-fingered branches grasping and reaching.

“Watch out!” Kohanski yelled.

“What?” Bellamy cut the wheel, and veered off
the road.

A hair-raising shriek. A bump.

“What was hell was it?” Ballamy asked.

“Better pull over and look,” Kohanski said.
“Hmm, looks like a baby.”

“It was a chicken,” Bellamy shouted, and
drove back onto the road.

“I saw it too,” Ken said. “It wasn’t a
chicken.”

Kohanski raised his left leg, pushed
Bellamy’s right leg away from the gas pedal, and tromped on the
brake. Bellamy u-turned hard and drove back to where they’d heard
the scream.

Kohanski’s flashlight beam flickered on a
mound in the muddy road.

Ken jumped out of the jeep. For an instant he
thought it was Neko, bloody, twisted and broken on the road. He
nudged the body with the tip of his shoe. The white fur was matted
with mud and blood; pink eyes open, lifeless. He stroked the
monkey’s head.

“It’s the albino macaque,” he said.

“No matter. Get back in,” Bellamy yelled.

“It’s not breathing,” Ken said, barely
breathing himself. “We gotta do something.”

“It’s taking a dirt nap. Get back in.”
Bellamy gunned the engine.

“We can’t leave it here on the road,” Ken
said. The monkey was linked in his mind with the first time he’d
seen Yasuko, splashing water over her pale shoulders, chatting with
her parents in the
ofuro
.

“We ain’t gonna bury it,” Bellamy yelled.
“Get in.” He jumped out of the jeep. Arms outstretched in front of
him, he rushed at Ken, as if to tackle him to the ground.

With an elegance and speed that rewards
practice, Ken did what he’d dreamed of doing for a very long time.
Using Bellamy’s momentum, and very little of his own energy, he
redirected his attacker. What pleased Ken the most was the
bewildered look on Bellamy’s face as he flew past Ken.

Bellamy landed on his back in the mud. His
face was sickly white, his mouth opened and closed like a hooked
trout’s. Ken resisted spitting on the man’s face.

Ken took the monkey’s warm paws in his hands,
and dragged the body to the side of the road. He covered it with
dirt and leaves, knowing too well that wild dogs would be tearing
at the flesh within minutes. When he got into the jeep beside
Yasuko, he saw tears on her face. There was nothing more he could
do now.

Saying nothing, Bellamy crawled into the
driver’s seat and rammed the jeep into gear. The vehicle lurched
forward. As they neared the warehouse, Bellamy cut the engine and
coasted to a stop.

“No one’s up yet.” Bellamy turned around in
his seat. “Get out now. Don’t tell your dad you saw me and
Kohanski, OK? And I won’t tell him where I found you, and who
with.”

Ken ignored him.

Neko, head low, shoulders high, stalked
through the cones of light the jeep’s headlights sculpted out of
mist. Looking neither left nor right, the cat melted into the
roadside thicket. Ken checked his watch. Time enough to get in
there, brew a pot coffee, and fry eggs for three people, while his
dad shaved. Then, just as natural as you please, Ken would tell him
Yasuko was joining them for breakfast, and don’t make a big federal
case out of it. She’s leaving for school in Los Angeles. I’m not
gonna marry her or anything.

“Hmm, we have a welcoming committee.”

Ken raised his hands to shield his eyes from
the glare of lights bouncing toward them. Recognizing that pistol
barrels were aimed at them, he kept his hands up. Yasuko pressed
her body against his. The warehouse door opened with a crack making
everyone in the jeep jump. Ken wondered who had been shot. If he
was shot, he wasn’t feeling it now. The pain would set in later.
Bellamy reached for his rifle but changed his mind.

Kohanski hummed. “Looks like our days of
midnight requisitions are over.”

Four MPs surrounded the jeep, their lights
dancing intimately over the vehicle and faces. Another MP led
Wizard out of the Quonset hut. Wizard was handcuffed. Captain
Paderson, his closely shaven face gleaming in the flashlight beams,
walked behind Wizard. If Paderson saw Ken and Yasuko, he didn’t
show surprise or anger. The MPs closed in on Bellamy and Kohanski,
cuffed them, and escorted them and Wizard into the back of a
truck.

Using official army manual phraseology, the
ranking MP formally addressed Major Bellamy and Major Kohanski.
“Embezzling U.S. Army supplies...full
investigation...court-martial.” The MP addressed Private First
Class Abernathy, regarding, “Incompetence...negligent handling of
U.S. Army provisions.”

Wizard, his face cratered with weird shadows,
drilled Ken with hard eyes. He said, “So long, partner.”

Ken felt an inner collapsing sensation. It
was his self-respect draining out of him. Wizard was taking the hit
for the stuff Ken had stolen from the warehouse and sold.

Yasuko, Ken and Paderson watched the military
police truck taillights stutter down the road until they blinked
out.

“Your parents are in my kitchen waiting for
you,” Captain Paderson said. “Go on in. They’re worried sick about
you.”

His father’s voice surprised Ken with its
nearness, the mist creating the illusion of distance.

Clutching the doll to her chest, Yasuko
walked toward the light of the window. She didn’t look back.

His father took a step toward him. Ken braced
himself. He resigned himself to accepting the blistering words and
blows his dad was going to deliver. His father reached toward Ken,
and he stepped in closer.

Ken swatted his dad’s arms away from him.

Paderson encircled Ken within his arms,
pinning his son’s arms down tight. He pulled Ken to him, hugging
him. “I thought they got you. Hurt you.”

The scent of his father’s neck evoked a
memory. It took a second for Ken to figure out his dad had been
afraid that Bellamy had harmed Ken, kidnapped him, or something.
Using Ken as Bellamy’s insurance, Paderson wouldn’t turn the
soldier in for the theft and sale of U.S. Army property.

Ken let himself sink into the warmth of his
father’s embrace.

“They didn’t get me, Dad. You got them.”

“I did.” He laughed an odd laugh that
could’ve been mistaken for weeping.

Chapter
Eighteen

~ Heroes ~

The base commander’s voice reverberated
through Camp Zama’s public address system and across the airstrip.
Sea breezes played in banners emblazoned with USARJ and USARPAC,
and a flock of pigeons, their wings catching the sun, rose like a
diamond-studded net over Okinawa sugarcane fields.

Lieutenant Colonel Topker and other officers
sat behind the dais. They murmured appreciatively and applauded
when the base commander ended his speech, and introduced the
four-star general who’d flown in for the ceremony.

The four-star spoke in confusing, although
complimentary, metaphors about honor and duty. The general reminded
everyone that wars were won thanks to the concerted efforts of
support staff, as well as those of combat troops. He sat down and
Topker came forward and began recapping for everyone what Paderson
had done to merit recognition.

A man, arriving late for the ceremony,
pinched the creases of his newly-pressed slacks between his
fingers, and sat next to Ken. The private first class removed his
hat to smooth down his hair, fragrant from a recent shampooing.

“Whoa! Wizard, what happened?”

“I clean up pretty well, if I say so
myself.”

Together they watched what was happening up
front.

“Your dad has what every father hopes for,”
Wizard said.

“Yeah, he’s been itching to get reassigned
stateside ever since we landed.”

“I was referring to you, Ken. I’m talking
about you. I know it was difficult, but I’m damn delighted you told
him the truth.”

On that morning a few months ago, after the
MPs had arrested Bellamy, Kohanski and Abernathy, and after the
Watanabes had left the house, Paderson drank slow cups of coffee
while Ken confessed to stealing goods from the warehouse and
selling them to pay for
chi gung
lessons. Private First
Class Abernathy might look like a candidate for Section 8, Ken had
pointed out to his father, but he’s not a crook. He’s a loyal
soldier and a good guy. Paderson looked at Ken oddly and nodded
thoughtfully in agreement. “I couldn’t let Dad think you were
stealing junk from the warehouse and you get a dishonorable
discharge,” Ken told Wizard. “We’re buddies. Buddies stick
together.”

“Someday you’ll be glad you ‘fessed up,
partner.”

“I’m glad today. Here’s some money to repay
you for the mask. I’ll repay the rest to you somehow.”

Wizard clasped Ken’s hand in his hands. “You
keep this money and repay me in a lump sum next time I see
you.”

Wizard wouldn’t let go until Ken said,
“OK.”

“Shhh. Listen.”

“The Soldiers Medal,” Topker said into the
microphone, “is for heroism by those serving with the U.S. Army in
any capacity that involves the voluntary risk of life under
conditions other than those with an opposing armed force.”

“Risk of life?” Ken echoed uncertainly.

Wizard nodded.

The officers standing in a semi-circle behind
the dais, and everyone in the audience watched as the four-star
general stood and pinned the Soldiers Medal to Paderson’s chest.
Paderson delivered a hasty salute to the general and to the other
officers. He scanned the audience’s faces. Finding Ken, he saluted
sharply. Ken stood and returned the salute, renewing the crowd’s
cheers and applause.

From his seat in the plane, Ken watched the
archipelago that had been his home slide under them. When the
airplane reached altitude and leveled out, Topker got out of his
seat beside Captain Paderson, and lumbered down the aisle. Ken
gripped the arms of the plane seat. Topker probably knew of Ken’s
crime and was coming to explain to him the exact nature of the
punishment he and his dad had devised especially for him. Topker
squeezed into the seat beside Ken.