A Song For Lisa (16 page)

Terry did not understand all that his mother told him, but
he knew that she loved him. “My teacher seems to like me.”

“Of course she does. Now, what do you say if we have a quick
bite to eat. Afterwards, we can take a ride to a place where they make
submarines. Go wash your hands and I’ll make some sandwiches.”

“Mom,” he asked, stopping at the screen door. “Do they make
toy submarines or real ones?”

“Real big ones, Son,” she smiled.

An hour later, they left the house. Lisa was more quiet than
usual. Two things weighed heavily on her mind. The first was Jonathon’s
reaction to Terry. She had never mentioned him to Jonathon. Since she left the
prison camp, most of her conversations were limited to their time on the
hospital ship from Guam to Pearl Harbor. They had exchanged a few letters
before the war ended, but not a word in the past five years. His unusual
request for her to visit him had to be for something out of the ordinary.
Jonathon Wright was not an impulsive person who would do rash things on a whim.
She had detected a hesitancy on his part. The more she thought about it, the
more she worried that it might have been better to have left Terry behind.

Lisa drove the Studebaker to the visitor center at the main
gate of the navy yard. Two gray submarines were sitting in the water beside the
center. Terry was fascinated by the ships. Workmen were moving about on the
deck and a large crane was lifting pieces of equipment through an opening on
the top deck.

“You stay in the car and watch the boat, Terry. I’ll be
right back. Do you understand?” she insisted firmly.

Terry knew that when she used that tone of voice, she really
meant what she said. “I will, Mom. Is that a real gun on the boat?” he asked
pointing to the deck gun.

“Yes, Terry,” she replied, locking the Studebaker.

A few minutes later she returned with two visitor passes.
She pinned one on Terry and clipped one on her blazer pocket and started the
car. A marine sergeant at the gate stopped her.

“I have two passes to the hospital, sergeant,” she pointed
to the passes. “How do I get there?”

“Just follow the blue ‘H’ signs ma’am. They’ll lead you to
the left after the bridge. It’s just a few hundred yards. Enjoy your stay.”

Lisa drove over the narrow bridge following the signs and
stopped in a parking lot for the hospital. “Come, Terry, Mom is going to meet
an old friend, a soldier that has been wounded. He’s inside expecting us. I
want you to stay close to me. Don’t be frightened of the sick and wounded men
we may see.”

As soon as they stepped into the receiving area, Terry
looked up at her and said, “It smells like medicine in here, Mom.”

“Yes, it does, but we must be quiet so that we don’t disturb
those who are trying to sleep.” Lisa held his hand and stopped at the main
desk. “I’m here to see Colonel Jonathon Wright.”

“Let’s see,” answered a pharmacist mate, running his finger
through a roster list of patients. “Oh, yes. He’s our only army patient. We’re
honored to have a Medal of Honor recipient. You’ll find his room down the
corridor, 112. Normally we would not permit children under ten, but since the
Colonel is in a private room, I don’t see anything wrong in letting the boy
visit. They’ve just finished serving dinner. Enjoy your visit Ma’am. By the
way, I need your name for the records.”

“I’m Lisa Carter and this is my son, Terry. Thank you for
making an exception with Terry.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Carter.”

Lisa continued to hold Terry’s hand and slowly walked down
the corridor checking numbers. The door for room number 112 was open. She could
see a patient sitting in bed looking out the window. His upper torso was
sheathed in plaster with his right arm in a sling. She stared at his left
sleeve. It was empty!

Lisa was startled by the discovery and involuntarily held
her breath. Jonathon heard her and turned his head. She saw sadness and
loneliness in his face. He recognized her, and smiled. “It’s nice to see you
again, Lisa. I was afraid you might not make it today.”

“What else would an old friend do, Colonel?” she insisted.
“This little boy with me is my son, Terry. Terry, this is Colonel Wright, a
very brave soldier and a good friend of mine.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Terry. You’ll have to excuse my
unsightly appearance. I’d shake hands with you if I could, but I can’t. A lot
of my friends have autographed the cast I’m wearing. Would you like to sign
your name on it?”

Terry looked at the man wrapped in white bandages. At his
young age Terry did not completely understand the severity of Jonathon’s
injuries, but he was mature enough to know that the soldier had been badly
hurt. “Yes, I can print my name,” he answered proudly.

“He’s a quick learner for a five-year-old,” added Lisa,
taking a pen from her blazer pocket. “Here I’ll hold you so that you can put
your name on Colonel Wright’s arm cast.”

“If you place your name on the cast, that means we’re
friends. What do you think about that, Terry?”

“I think it will be swell,” he replied, carefully printing
his name on the white plaster cast. When he was focused on doing something, he
had a habit of holding his tongue between his lips. After he was done, he
looked at the other names on the cast. “Are you going to sign it, Mom?”

“If the colonel doesn’t mind, I will.” Lisa placed Terry
back on the floor.

“First of all, the colonel has a name, Jonathon. I like it
when my friends call me Jon. Second, I’d be honored to have you sign my cast,
Lisa Carter.”

Lisa opened the pen and signed her name below Terry’s. Her
glance wandered to the empty left sleeve. It touched her not because it was
offensive to her, but, because Jonathon did not deserve to be so grievously
wounded.

Two nurses entered the room. One administered medication to
a bottle with a tube feeding into his right shoulder. The other nurse gave him
two pills by his mouth and held a glass of water with a straw for him to drink.
When they left he laid his head back against the pillows and looked at Lisa. He
smiled for a second, embarrassed that she was seeing him in this condition.

“I have to be fed every meal,” he confessed in a low voice.
“You look good, Lisa. I remember how you looked when Faith and I saw you in
Boston… You must be wondering why I asked you to come. Please, pull up a chair
where I can see both of you. I get tired when I talk too much, so bear with
me.”

Lisa did as he asked and directed Terry to sit beside her.
“You don’t have to apologize, especially to me, Jon.”

“You’ll find an envelope in the stand beside my bed. The
letter was addressed to me at my Tokyo address. I received it a long time after
I left Japan. The mail followed me from Pearl Harbor, to San Francisco, to
Portsmouth. Inside, you’ll find another envelope addressed: To Whom It May
Concern. Please, open that letter and read it. I’ve agonized over the decision
to let you see it. I know how difficult some things have been for you. Perhaps
this letter will discuss things that you just as soon not know, but how will
you be certain if you don’t read it? Remember, I am only the messenger, and I
have been that because I believe you may find some answers to the questions
you’ve been searching for. If the letter hurts, I’m so sorry, and apologize.
I’ve done this thing praying that it might bring you some peace, Lisa. I’m the
last person in the world to want to hurt you.”

“I believe you, Jon,” answered Lisa, fingering the inner
letter.

“If you want to be private, Lisa, you may go into a lounge
across from my door, it’ll give Terry and I a chance to get better acquainted.
I believe you’ll find the letter self-explanatory.”

“If you don’t mind,” Lisa answered, looking at Terry.
“Mommie will be right back. You can tell Colonel Wright all about your new
school in Durham.”

Lisa exited the room with a lump in her throat and quickly
entered the lounge. She devoured the contents of the letter holding her breath
in anticipation:

Tokyo, Japan

June 25, 1950

To Whom It May Concern;

Yesterday I was paid a visit by a remarkable young
soldier, Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Wright. We talked of many things and
shared tea in my garden. He was troubled about the death of my son, Toshio, the
prison camp commandant. Colonel Wright did not apologize for being the
instrument of death, indeed he believed that justice was well served. Yet, the
death troubled him because of the sadistic behavior of my son and the men under
his command.

I am Toshio’s father and bear some responsibility
for his actions. His barbaric behavior was contrary to every value his mother
and I have embraced. He violated every virtue and standard of behavior that
guides civilized man. I am sorry for that conduct and if it was in my power, I
would erase the sordid acts and replace them with the healing grace of kindness
and compassion which transcends every race and culture.

Five years have passed since the war ended and I
have agonized every day over the death of my son. It would have been easier to
bear if he had been a brave soldier defending his country. Death would have had
meaning and we could honor his courage and sacrifice… Alas, that honor has been
denied his aging father. Instead of honor, I hang my head in shame and regret
that he was my son. At least his mother has not had to bear the shame. She died
in one of the bombing raids and never knew the truth.

If he had lived, and I was to learn of his
behavior, the justice which Colonel Wright mentioned would not have been
carried out by strangers. I personally would have been the instrument of death.

Across the miles of a mighty ocean, I send you my
apologies, and extend a hand in friendship. It is right and proper to detest
Toshio’s actions, but, I beg of you, do not extend that hatred to all of the
Japanese people.

I believe Colonel Wright will deliver this letter
to you as he promised. I hope that you derive some measure of peace and
consolation from my message. May God be with you.

Toshio’s Father

She read the letter with tears gathering in her eyes
blotting out the pages. Quiet sobs filled the empty lounge. Sitting rigidly on
the edge of a chair, Lisa cleared the tears with a handkerchief and went over
the letter again, word for word. It did not anger her, instead, it comforted
her that someone else in the world was sharing her sorrow. She was encouraged
by its sincere, uplifting tone in perfect English. Now, she understood why Jon
requested a visit in person. The news he had to share was a heartfelt message
from a tormented father. She had empathy for the gentleman.

Several visitors entered the lounge and sat down. Lisa
excused herself and went into a women’s restroom off the lounge and splattered
water on her face. She did not want Terry to see that she had been crying. Lisa
looked at herself in the mirror. Her thick auburn hair framed her small face.
Earrings with an American flag dangling from a gold chain hung from her ear
lobes. She thought she looked pale and squeezed her cheeks just before she
darted back to Jonathon’s room.

Terry was standing at the window describing to Jonathon what
he saw on the partially submerged submarine next to the hospital. He turned to
look at his mother and ran into her waiting arms. He saw that she had been
crying. “Why are you crying, Mom?”

“I’m all right, Terry,” she reached to pick him up and sat
down on the chair with him on her lap. “You know how easy it is for Mom to cry
when I’m happy and excited.”

Jonathon observed her closely as she embraced Terry, hoping
that he had not made a mistake. The letter had to have been a powerful message
from out of nowhere.

Lisa replaced the letter in the drawer. “It was certainly
not what I expected,” she told him in a low voice. “The fact that you approached
the man is not a surprise to me, Jon. I believe I would have done the same
thing if I had been in your shoes. Thank you for being the messenger. Friends
are a rare gift in this world.”

“I’m relieved, Lisa. I’ve been uncertain about it for a long
time.”

“How did you perceive the man?” she inquired.

“I was surprised. He was not the person I expected to find.
He’s a well-educated man who speaks excellent English. I had a hunch that he
was an honest man tormented by memories of his son’s acts of cruelty. I spent a
couple of hours with him and came away thinking that I had just been in the
company of a fine human being. Sounds strange doesn’t it?”

“Not really, considering what’s taking place in the world
today. One day a country is a friend and the next day it’s an enemy. Will you
ever see him again?”

“I doubt it,” Jon replied. “Under normal circumstances, with
an arm missing, I’d be discharged from the army. They’re making an exception in
my case at the University of New Hampshire. As soon as I’m fitted with my
artificial arm, I’m going to command the ROTC unit at the university for a tour
of two years. So my travels to Japan are finished. Would you like to meet him?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got to think about it,” mused Lisa.
“Little Terry is too young to understand all the innuendoes taking place around
him right now. Perhaps I could write a reply….” Lisa saw the deep lines around
Jon’s eyes. He looked exhausted. “All we’ve been talking about is me. How about
you? I sympathize with what your injuries have done to your army career.
Sometimes I get wrapped up in my own worries without thinking of others. Is
there anything I can do for you?”

“Whenever you might have the time, a familiar face is always
nice to see,” Jonathon suggested.

“I’d like that. It’s a short drive down from Durham. Has
your wife been to see you?” she asked.

“No, my wife, Hope, was killed in a train crash several
years ago. I thought you knew. My mother and Faith, my daughter, are coming for
a visit at the end of the week. If you could make it then you could meet them,”
suggested Jon. The pain killers were taking affect. He was getting drowsy.

Lisa felt stupid asking the question. For a man who does
nothing but give of himself, he certainly has had his share of traumatic
experiences. Her problems seem small by comparison.

“You’re looking tired, Jon. Terry and I’ll be leaving.
Thanks for being such a good friend. Get well soon.” Lisa bent over him and
gently kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep well Jon, sleep well.”

The sight of Jon covered with bandages and casts bothered
her. She had been with wounded soldiers for several weeks before the war ended,
and she was shipped out of the Pearl Harbor Hospital. Instead of being places
of gloom and discouragement, they frequently were havens of hope and belief in
a better future. Her spirits had been lifted by the support of one another in
the wards. The most seriously wounded were given the most support of all. The
other soldiers and sailors circled the wagons around those most in need. No one
suffered alone unless it was by request.

Memories of Jonathon, when he led the raid on the prison
compound, contrasted with the soldier she saw at the Navy Yard. On Luzon he had
projected an air of tireless invincibility as did his fellow Rangers. Fearless
and courageous in combat, they were models of compassion and sensitivity to the
women inmates. She would always remember that part of Jonathon. She attributed
her physical and emotional survival to the gentle decency he displayed to her
in the first two minutes they met in the bedroom of the commandant’s house.

Lisa checked Terry lying on the seat beside her. It had been
a long day. She smiled at the way he could sleep so completely with every
muscle in his tiny body relaxed. Jon didn’t say a word about Terry’s ancestry,
and she was not sure how she should take that. One of the reasons she was so
glad to see him was the chance to show Terry. His reaction to her son was
important to her, yet, in that respect, the visit had yielded nothing! Jon’s
apparent acceptance of Terry could have been a manifestation of his inherent
decency and courtesy. Even if he had disapproved, he would not tell her so!

Friday afternoon turned out to be warm and sunny. The campus
was filled with students sitting under the trees on the well-maintained lawns.
Lisa left the university in a good mood, looking forward to meeting Jon’s
mother and daughter. Lisa and Terry entered the Portsmouth Navy Yard at about
four in the afternoon with increasing anxieties and a tinge of paranoia that
had become a permanent part of her psyche since Terry was born. Just how Jon’s
mother and daughter would react held her in nervous anticipation.

The duty nurse at the desk told Lisa that Jonathon had two
visitors and was on the terrace overlooking the river. They were directed to
the terrace where they found Jonathon propped up in a sitting position in his
hospital bed. An elderly woman was bent over him. A young girl of about ten
years was watching the boats travel the river.

Jonathon looked much more alert than he had been on her
previous visit. He recognized Lisa and Terry from the corner of his eye as soon
as they walked through the large French doors. “Ah, here comes an old friend,
Ma.”

Lisa was relieved that he had much better color today.
“Hello, Colonel,” She greeted him warmly.

The woman turned to Lisa. “Ma, I want you to meet Miss Lisa
Carter and her son, Terry. Lisa, this is my mother, Lillian Wright, and the
young lady hanging on the balcony is my daughter, Faith.”

Mrs. Wright extended a hand to Lisa. “It’s nice to meet you,
Lisa. My son was just telling me that you stopped by this week. I was hoping
I’d have a chance to meet you. We just came down from Monson, Maine. It’s about
a four-hour drive. It’s nice that you come to visit Jon.”