The Purple Heart (47 page)

Her emotions lodged in her
throat. A mixture of sadness and happiness enveloped her and tugged at her
heart. It was devastating to read Hiroshi’s final, grief-filled words to her,
but the letter also confirmed everything that she could have hoped for from
Hiroshi. She could only imagine what his last day was like and his last
thoughts about her. Now she could finally have some comfort, knowing how much
he loved her. Minami held the thought of her husband’s love, infused into the
ink of the letter itself, ever more tightly as she gently rocked herself back
and forth.

A window had been left opened
in the family room, and though it faced away from the coastline, an ocean draft
still drifted in and filled the air with a salty scent. The Tanakas were quiet
and suddenly felt out of place. Aiko immediately sensed this and offered them
seats on the sofa as she pulled up a chair to the left of Mr. Tanaka. The man
before her looked so calm, but behind his silent demeanor was a man of courage.
Along with so many others, he had braved a war for a country that had only cast
suspicion on him. But he was also her grandfather’s friend and now the bearer
of a silent voice from their family’s dark past.

“Mr. Tanaka, thank you so
much for coming,” said Aiko as she beamed back at him.

He was holding his wife’s
hand when he looked up with a somber face, “It’s my last duty. Something that I
should have fulfilled many years ago if I had known.”

Aiko’s curiosity beckoned
her once more, as the mystery as to why the letter was never delivered, was
never finished. “What happened?”

Mr. Tanaka looked up at her
and then he looked ahead as if he was staring into something far off into the
distance. He then calmly spoke. “When I awoke with that last day seared into my
mind, it wasn’t a few days later but rather a few years later. The impact of
that falling tree put me into a coma that I would not awake from for the next
four years of my life. Those were dark years. I was told that I had no brain
activity during my coma, but even so, my mind was haunted by so many images of
the war. Especially the one that killed your grandfather and Akira.”

“I wasn’t myself. The
doctors soon discovered that I had partial memory loss. I could remember
things, but not when they happened. It was like my mind was a jumble of
memories. I had to go through rehabilitation, which was grueling. But the
images haunted me every day, and I was a mess. I wanted to forget everything
and shut the world out. You can’t possibly imagine what it’s like when all of
your memories are not in order. It was enough to drive a person mad. But the
one person who stood by me was my wife. Well at that time, she wasn’t my wife
yet.”

Mr. Tanaka then rubbed his
wife’s hand as a smile crept over her face. She was almost blushing as she
looked deeply into his eyes. Mr. Tanaka smiled back and turned to Aiko.

“At first, I didn’t
remember her, but she insisted she was my girlfriend. To her dismay, I didn’t
believe her. I didn’t trust anyone. The only people that I did remember were my
immediate family. They supported me as best they could, but soon, even their
visits to me in the hospital became less frequent.

“But my wife here, she came
back to visit me every single day and soon I just got used to her. Every single
day, she would bring this master timeline to help me rebuild my memories. But
the hardest memories came when I talked about the war. I relived so many
horrific scenes of people dying such agonizing deaths. But you know, her
persistence paid off, and soon I started seeing more order to my jumbled
memories and other memories started to fall into place. Finally, almost six
years later, something just seemed to click and I felt whole all over again.
But the most amazing thing was my wife. She had devoted her life to me holding
onto the belief that I would come back and she was right, I did. My memory loss
gave me one gift and that was falling in love all over again with the same
woman. And even if I didn’t remember her, I fell in love with her anyways with
her devotion to me. What man wouldn’t?”

Mrs. Tanaka blushed even
more as she gently held her husband’s hands.

“So I got married to this
amazing woman. She was the real soldier for all those years after the war, and
she nursed me back to health, physically and mentally. Because I had lost so
many years, I never had the chance to stay in touch with many people. Many of
the people who I had known died that day. It was much easier for me to simply
let the past stay in the past so I could began to catch up with the many years
that I had lost. And life did go on–my wife gave birth late in life to Joey’s
father, Joseph, in 1958.”

Mrs. Tanaka shook her
husband’s hand. “1957.”

He gazed at her and a glint
of realization came over his face as he smiled. He chuckled at himself. “Sorry,
1957,” he said. “See, she still remembers better than I do.”

Mr. Tanaka’s story
reflected sheer will and human struggle, thought Aiko. She didn’t understand
why stories like this from these amazing men and women were not being told. She
didn’t understand why their sacrifice and contribution were not taught in
schools to show that everyone in America, even those who were victims of
racism, could still come together to perform their patriotic duty when their
country needed them.

“But you know, the past has
a strange way of catching up with someone,” Mr. Tanaka continued. “People from
my memories started to speak to me, and I started to remember who they were.
They finally meant more to me than just memories when I started to remember
their friendships. Up until then, everything was just a static collection of
memories, but now they had meaning. I suddenly remembered that these brave men
were my friends. I suffered a short mental breakdown soon thereafter, but I
recovered as I let the voices speak to me. And you know, that’s all they wanted
to do. They just wanted to speak to me. Your grandfather was my best friend in
the army and he really spoke to me. That’s when everything came rushing back to
me, and finally everything came together again. That was right before Joey was
born.

“I always carried that
guilt for not being able to deliver that letter. I just made the assumption
that everyone I cared about from that time had passed on. I never told anyone
about that letter except to my wife and then my grandson. One night, Joey told
me that he wanted me to tell him of a story from my past and I guess I wanted
to honor my best friend, your grandfather. Though it was a hard memory, I’ve
come to terms with my memories in the last few years, and I felt that Joey
should hear the story. I wanted him to know so that he could appreciate what Japanese
Americans before him did for this great country. Even Akira redeemed himself in
the end. Little did I know that Joey’s picture would be seen by Hiroshi’s
granddaughter. Now I can fulfill my duty and my long-overdue promise that I
made to a dear friend.”

Aiko couldn’t help feeling
a sense of warmth as she listened to Mr. Tanaka’s ordeal and about his final
acceptance of his past. “Mr. Tanaka, I don’t know where to begin. I can’t
express enough how much this means to me and even more so, to my grandmother.”

Aiko lifted herself off of
her seat and wrapped her arms around Mr. Tanaka, who gently hugged her back.
“For the granddaughter of my best friend, I would do anything,” Mr. Tanaka
said.

Aiko settled herself back
onto her seat. But she had one remaining question: The story of the dark secret
dishonor that her grandfather was a wartime deserter. She knew it was not true,
but she needed to hear this from someone who knew. “So Akira was the deserter,
not my grandfather?”

“Akira wasn’t really a
deserter in the end. Many men saw horrific things in those times and may have
reacted irresponsibly. But in the end, he came back for your grandfather and
me. I may not have liked him, if my memory serves me correctly, but he still
came back for us. If it wasn’t for him struggling to get your grandfather off
of that ridge when that tank was firing at us, I would not be here today,” Mr.
Tanaka said.

“So my grandfather and
Akira were not deserters?” asked Aiko.

Mr. Tanaka looked at Aiko
strangely. “They were wartime heroes. Akira may have lost his senses for a
moment but Hiroshi was…” He suddenly became annoyed–not with Aiko, but with the
thought that the word “deserter” could be associated with either Akira or
Hiroshi. “Why are you asking this?” he asked.

Aiko again realized that
her grandmother probably did not know that her father had revealed to her that
her grandfather was a deserter. Nor had she told Mr. Tanaka. She was too
enthralled with his story.

Aiko let out a deep breath.
“I recently learned from my father that my grandfather was a wartime deserter…”

“No!” growled Mr. Tanaka as
bitter disbelief washed over his face. He suddenly stood up and seemed to tower
over her. “That’s not true! Your grandfather was an honorable man! Your father
told you this?”

Aiko was taken aback by his
agitated reaction but she remained composed. She cleared her throat. “Yes. He
said he found a letter from the army that said my grandfather was a deserter.”

Mr. Tanaka stepped away
from the couch, clearly shaken by the news. He turned his back to Aiko and his
wife. “That’s not true. Your grandfather was a hero.” He then turned around and
faced Aiko again as angry tears clung to his eyelids. He looked indignant. “I
was there, I should know.”

Mr. Tanaka looked down,
feeling suddenly dejected. Then he looked up once more, “My duty to your
grandfather isn’t done… I don’t even know where to begin.”

Aiko could see the
determination in Mr. Tanaka’s eyes as the strength of a soldier suddenly rose
up within him. If indeed the U.S. Army had officially labeled her grandfather
as a wartime deserter when he obviously wasn’t, then the last man who saw him
alive could clear his name.

Her mind raced back to an
event that she attended surrounding the 442
^nd
. It was a few years
back, the War Department reviewed the duty record of many soldiers of the 442
^nd
and found that many of them had actually been denied the appropriate
accommodations for their service to their country, due in part to continuing
racism toward Japanese Americans. Only after many decades were the surviving Japanese
American soldiers given the appropriate recognition for their service to their
country by then-President Clinton. Many were even recognized posthumously. But
she wasn’t sure whom to contact to clear her grandfather’s name.

Then her cell phone rang.

She excused herself as she
checked it to see who was calling. Suddenly her eyes lit up. She quickly
brought the phone to her ear. “Jonathan!” she exclaimed with joy.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said.
“How…”

“Jonathan, I can’t talk
right now but I need you to do something for me.”

Jonathan was taken aback.
“Um, sure.”

“I need to see your
grandfather as soon as possible!” stated Aiko.

“My grandfather? What do
you need to see…”

“Can you help me see him?
Please Jonathan, this is important!” said Aiko.

Jonathan paused. “Well I
guess I could. He’s usually in his office, so I guess I could get you to see
him tomorrow…”

“I can’t tomorrow, I don’t
think I can get a flight back home from Los Angeles that quickly,” Aiko said,
growing more and more excited.

There was another pause.
“You’re
where
?”

Aiko lamented her absentmindedness
again. She held the phone closer and said with a big smile, “It’s a long story,
but I’ll explain later. I love you!”

* * *

Aiko rushed off the
boarding ramp and into the terminal, then quickly made her way out of the
crowded airport. She wore an expression of determination and urgency as she
emerged from the exit of Reagan National Airport. She was about to wave down a taxi
when a familiar black sports car came to a screeching halt in front of her. The
passenger side door popped opened and Cat peered out. She had her hair up and
she was wearing a purple knitted sweater. She tilted her sunglasses downward
along her nose and looked up at Aiko. “Somebody called for a taxi?”

“Cat!” said Aiko as a big
smile came over her surprised face. “You found your car!”

Aiko quickly jumped into
the car and gave Cat a warm hug. As she pulled away, Aiko noticed the spliced
wires protruding from beneath the steering wheel. Aiko gave Cat a surprised
look. Cat then simply said, “What? I’m from Jersey,” as the car peeled away
from the curb.

As Cat sped along to Aiko’s
apartment, Aiko recapped the events of the last three days. She started with how
Mr. Tanaka had known her grandfather during the war and had been with him on
the day of his death. She talked about his coma, how he came to terms with his
own memories decades later, and how that the letter that never got delivered
finally arrived in her grandmother’s hands almost sixty years later. She then
shared her grandmother’s story of how she fought off a soldier who had tried to
rape her. Aiko continued the story in her apartment. Cat listened attentively
as Aiko freshened up and changed into a new set of clothes.

She told Cat how Mr. Tanaka
had vehemently defended her grandfather, attesting to his honor. She described
how stunned her parents were that she was in Los Angeles and how absolutely
livid her father became that she had gone poking around in her grandfather’s
history. But when she forced him to listen to her story, she saw decades of
dishonor crumble away, revealing a sense of hope. Her father was amazed that
she had found the man who was with his father on the day he died. It was a truth
so compelling that it began to wash away the years of hidden shame.