Hawaii - James Michener [523]
None of the Sakagawas spoke. They looked at the newspaper dumbly, and Reiko picked out the headlines. It was a paper published openly in Wyoming, it had passed the United States censor, what Mr. Ishii had read from it was true. Japan was winning the war and would soon invade Hawaii. In great pain of conscience Sakagawa-san looked at the paper which he could not read and asked I Reiko-chan, "Is it true?" And his daughter said, "Yes." It was one of the most exasperating anomalies of the war that whereas the F.B.I. and naval security kept very close watch on the Japanese newspapers in Hawaii, and saw that they printed only the strictest truth, with no stories at all datelined Tokyo, the Japanese-language newspapers in the states of Utah and Wyoming were free to print whatever they wished, it having been decided by the local military that the official Japanese communiques were so ridiculous that they would in time defeat themselves, as indeed they did. So the mainland Japanese press, often edited by die-hard samurai types, kept pouring out an incredible mess of propaganda, rumor, anti-American sentiment and downright subversive lies, and when copies of the papers reached Hawaii, where rumors were apt to be virulent, their effect was shocking.
"I will tell the emperor's general," Sakagawa-san finally explained, "that my sons fought only in Europe. Never against Japan."
"It will do no good!" Mr. Ishii said sadly. "The emperor will never forgive you for what you have done."
Sakagawa-san felt weak. He had always had doubts about sending his sons to war, and now the Wyoming paper had fortified those doubts. Dumbly he looked at his old guide, and' Mr. Ishii, after enjoying the moment of humiliation, finally said, "I will put in a good word for you with the general. I will tell him you have always been a good Japanese."
"Thank you, Mr. Ishii!" the dynamiter cried. "You are the only friend I can trust."
The Sakagawas went to bed that night in considerable torment, so the next day at her barber chair Reiko waited until an intelligent-looking young naval officer sat down, and when he had done so, she asked quietly, "Could you help me, please."
"Sure," the officer said. "Name's Jackson, from Seattle."
"A man told me last night that Japan might invade Hawaii at any moment. Is that true?"
The navy man's jaw dropped; he pulled the towel away from his neck and turned to look at Reiko, who was then twenty-six and at her prettiest. He smiled at her and asked, "Good God, woman! What have you been hearing?"
"I was told on good authority that Japanese ships might attack at any time."
"Look, lady!" the officer chided. "If you're a spy trying to get secrets . . ."
"Oh, no!" Reiko blushed. Then she saw her father approaching to enforce the rule against any conversation with customers. She retied the towel, jerking it back to muzzle the navy man, and started clipping. "We're not allowed to talk," she whispered.
“Where do you have lunch?" the officer asked.
"Senaga's," she whispered.
"I'll see you there, and tell you about the war."
"Oh, I couldn't!" Reiko blushed.
"Look, I'm from Seattle. I used to know lots of Japanese girls. Senaga's."
At the counter of the restaurant, run by the Okinawa pig-grower Senaga, Lieutenant Jackson surprised Reiko by ordering sushi and sashimi, which he attacked with chopsticks. "I served in Japan," he said. "If my skipper caught me eating with chopsticks I'd be court-martialed. Unpatriotic."
"We all try to eat with forks," Reiko said.
"Now about this Jap invasion," Jackson said.
"Would you please not call us Japs?" Reiko asked.
"You're Japanese," Jackson laughed easily. "The enemy are Japs. What's your first name? Reiko, that's nice. Well, Reiko-chan .