Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [138]
Draggan stopped filming but asked Watanabe if he still wanted to meet with me. Again he said yes.
DRAGGAN TRIED AGAIN to arrange a get-together, but the son adamantly refused. “Mr. Zamperini will expect my father to bow and scrape and ask forgiveness.”
When I heard, I said, “No. I’m not going to ask him to ask for forgiveness. I’ve already forgiven him.” Draggan called back, but Watanabe’s son wouldn’t talk to him. Draggan told me, “We want you two together, but the only way we could get him again is to hide a block from the house and grab him if he walks by.”
“No, I can’t do that,” I said. “That’s not me. I’m not sneaky.”
Draggan agreed. “You’re right. It wouldn’t look good for you, and it wouldn’t look good in the story.”
Of course, I’ve thought about what I might have said or done had I just happened to be outside the house when the Bird went for his walk. What if I just said, “Mr. Watanabe? I’m Louis Zamperini.” I don’t think there would be any fuss; we’d just stand there and chat. I’d suggest we have lunch. I’d ask about his family, children, grandchildren, wife. What they’re doing. That’s all. If he brings up the war, I’d say it’s unfortunate that we even had a war. Otherwise, I wouldn’t speak of it or accuse him of crimes. The one who forgives never brings up the past to that person’s face. When you forgive, it’s like it never happened. True forgiveness is complete and total.
WHEN DRAGGAN FOUND the Bird, CBS gave him forty minutes of airtime and virtually a blank check. Draggan went all out. He even dropped a raft into the ocean from a helicopter and did a telephoto shot that pulled away until the raft looked just like another whitecap on the water.
He also decided to keep the story a secret until the broadcast, which, when CBS realized what an award-winning job Draggan had done, they rescheduled to air on the final day, before the closing ceremony.
THE LAST PIECE of film Draggan needed was of me running with the Olympic torch. First I met the mayor of Joetsu, who had made my run possible, and with the Peace Park people, who said they would continue to try and get me together with the Bird.
The mayor asked, “Did anything good come out of your two and a half years as a prisoner of war?”
“Yes,” I said. “It prepared me for fifty-three years of married life.” He roared with laughter. I could have gone into detail about being reborn, but he wouldn’t have understood. The Bible says all things work together for good, for those who love the Lord. If it hadn’t been for the Bird, I never would have been converted. My life would have never changed. But my torments about him drove me to destruction, and when my whole world completely crumbled around me, it was like on the life raft—there was nowhere else to turn. Like I’ve said, everybody looks up.
The next morning, at about eight o’clock, the mayor said, “Welcome to Joetsu, under different circumstances,” and lit my torch from his. I wore a beautiful red, white, and blue running suit, with long pants and long-sleeved jacket. It was cold.
As I ran with that symbol of international sportsmanship and cooperation held high, I kept thinking about Camp 4-B and the war, and the contrast between my life then and now. Then I was beaten almost daily and all around me people died. Now I ran with thousands of people lining the road, most of them the kids or grandkids of the war generation, cheering and screaming. Then I hated Japan and wanted revenge. Now I thought about the Bird getting away scot-free and felt no bitterness at all. I forgave and, even better, understood what forgiveness had done for me. Forgiving myself and others was the story of my life.
People called me Lucky Louie, and I knew it was true.
The love and graciousness I experienced on that trip to