Читать книгу Chojun - Goran Powell - Страница 12

An Incident At Roko Bridge

At school, Mr. Kojima could barely contain his excitement. We hurried through the morning ritual of bowing to the emperor and when we were all seated and silent, he waited an extra moment before making his announcement. There had been an incident at the Roko Bridge near Peking. On the night of 7 July 1937, a Japanese soldier had been held captive illegally by the Chinese forces and there had been a battle. This had escalated and now Japan had declared a seisen on China. Seisen was a Holy War, which, Mr. Kojima explained, marked the first step in our destiny to bring the four corners of the world under Japanese rule.

Over the following months, we received daily updates on the progress of our imperial forces across the sea. The port of Shanghai had been captured after a long battle. The Chinese capital Nanking had fallen soon after, and our troops were busy bringing order to the city. Enemy forces were on the retreat all over China.

Mr. Kojima explained it was our divine duty to bring Japanese civilization to the rest of the world. Our English classes were canceled in favor of Japanese history and culture. We sang patriotic songs and recited heroic poems, and all the while, a steady stream of young men left Okinawa to go to war.

My mother and my sister Yuka sewed senninbari for the soldiers on the front. These good-luck belts were supposed to be made by the mothers, sisters, or wives of the soldiers, but in practice most were sewn by high-school girls. They also put together ration packs known as comfort-bags filled with tins of food, razors, cigarettes, and sake, and decorated the outsides with messages of encouragement. I wondered whether one day in the future, I too would receive a good-luck belt and a comfort-bag in some faraway corner of Asia.

Yuka joined a local girl’s brigade called the Wild Lilies and trained in first aid. They would go to Naha port to cheer the departing troop ships with cries of Banzai! (Hurrah!) Sometimes I would go with her to watch the new soldiers who were grinning inanely at their newfound hero status, at least for a day. Mr. Kojima was often there too, his eyes alive with joy at the sight of so many brave young fellows going to war, envious of their chance to serve the emperor. I looked forward to the day that I might be on one of those ships, holding my head high as pretty, young girls waved me off from the quayside, but there seemed little hope of that.

When I left school, I worked full-time on my uncle’s boat, and no call-up papers ever arrived at my door. Uncle Anko began to give me a little money at the end of each week. Soon I was accompanying him on trips to the outlying islands. It seemed my life on Okinawa was set, never to change. I wasn’t unhappy, but at night I lay awake, rocked by the gentle swell of the ocean in Naha harbor, and wondered whether this was all life held in store.