The torturing at Alcatraz prison lasted for four months. Then they were transferred to Fort Leavenworth, chained two and two. The journey lasted four days and nights.
At Leavenworth they were driven through the streets and prodded with bayonets as if they were swine. They were manacled nine hours a day and given only a bread and water diet. Two of the brothers, Joseph and Michael, died under the torturing.
Is there any doubt as to who was the better man, the brothers Hofer who went through martyrdom to death for their noble belief, or Secretary Baker who was responsible for their murder?
After the facts had been brought before the Secretary of State again and again, month after month, day after day, at long last, on December 6, 1918, nearly a month after the war was ended, Secretary Baker found time to issue an order prohibiting cruel corporal punishment, and the handcuffing of prisoners to the bars of their dungeons, etc. Secretary Baker already knew such torture was being practiced, knew too, that it was illegal.
Five days later, however, Jacob Wipf, who had been confined with the Hofer brothers, was still handcuffed to the bars of his cell for nine hours a day. A monster petition for the release of conscientious objectors was laid before the Secretary of War and further relief was given to the tortured prisoners.
On January 27, 1919, 113 conscientious objectors were discharged from the barracks at Fort Leavenworth in pursuance of an order of Secretary Baker dated December 2. Even then, Jacob Wipf was not released. He was only set free on April 13, 1919.
Senator Norris, of Nebraska, who had been a judge before he became Senator, said: “The Mennonites are the best people on earth. I have never seen one of them in court. If everybody were as good as they, there would be no need of courts and prisons.”
Over two thousand conscientious objectors were sentenced in England to various terms of imprisonment. In no case, I believe, was a longer sentence given than two years. In no single case was torturing such as took place in our prisons even alleged. No British officers jabbed defenseless men with bayonets, or beat them with clubs, or kicked them, or killed them.
When a woman is accused before a London magistrate of soliciting men, or being a prostitute, and manages to clear herself of the charge, the magistrate always accords a sum of money from the poor-box to atone for the wrong done her.
This practice of compensation is a principle of English justice. For instance, a suffragette was sent to prison in Brixton in 1913. She slipped when in prison and broke her ankle. The prison doctor saw her and said it was nothing; she should go on walking. Her month ran out and she was discharged. A competent London doctor examined her and found that her anklebone had been broken; through not having been reset, one leg was permanently shorter than the other. The matter was brought to the notice of the Home Secretary, who happened to be Mr. Winston Churchill. He naturally exonerated the doctor from all blame, but accorded to the woman 500 pounds for the injury she had sustained.
I would call such action “remedial,” though it was hardly prompt. In cases of death through a mistake of the court or of the prison authorities, thousands of pounds have been paid to surviving relatives in Great Britain. This is true remedial action. Has Washington taken any such remedial actions in any one of the cases of tortured conscientious objectors?
CHAPTER IX
My first visit to Japan, nearly half a century ago now, was one of intense enjoyment. I was interested at once as I have never been interested anywhere else. Almost immediately I grasped the main fact that the people were freer of morality than even the French. I meant to stay a month and stayed nearly six. I went all the way up the inland sea and began, I think, to understand that great people. I had good help from an English captain who owned the chief English newspaper in Japan. He soon became a friend and never tired of putting me right.
The first thing that struck me wherever I went in Japan was the astonishing politeness and courtesy of the people. To enter a hotel or an inn was a real pleasureeveryone seemed glad to see you and the waitresses were smiling with pleasure and delighted to do whatever they could for you.
Japan has been called the land of flowers. It is also the land of the most tender and passionate of women. The experience that brought home to me the truth of my last remark took place only one day after I arrived. It was with one of the pretty waitresses who, from the moment I entered the hotel, did their utmost to make my stay a pleasant one.
The waitress who served at my table in the dining room appeared the next morning at my bedside with a loaded breakfast tray. I had retired late, having talked far into the night with my friend, the English captain, and I had left instructions with the desk clerk for my breakfast to be served in my room at 10 a.m.
I woke up as the curtains were drawn back. The warm sunlight fell softly across my bed and a moment later, returned to consciousness, I was aware of the pleasantly featured young waitress. She moved across to me with the breakfast tray. Her smile was so real and her whole demeanor so charming that I broke out in English: “Your country is truly the land of flowers!”
She blushed prettily and set the tray in front of me.
“You understand English then?” I exclaimed delightedly. The day before she had not uttered a word.
“Yes sir,” she said politely. “Since we have so many English and American guests at the hotel, our manager insists that all the waitresses should speak a little English.”
I nodded delightedly. The Japanese were indeed a wonderful people!
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I am nearly nineteen!” she exclaimed.
“You are very pretty,” I said with a smile, hoping to draw her out. “I'm sure all the young men must be in love with you!”
“Indeed no, sir!” she laughed, bowing her pretty head. Never once did she indicate that she desired to leave the room, not by gesture nor by expression. This I found to be wonderful and interesting, as I was naked under the covers. This must have been obvious to her, for my chest was bare and one leg lay before her eyes. She was the essence of politeness. Of course my interest was aroused at once. I'd had a good night's sleep and my first vision upon waking up was of this pretty girl with the sun shining on her pretty, neatly starched uniform.
“Tell me,” I said provocatively, “is love forbidden in your country such that a beautiful girl like yourself has not a hundred admirers?”
She laughed and shook her head engagingly.
“Perhaps it's that you have no desire for love,” I went on. “Perhaps the young men are afraid that you will reproach them!”
Still she would not speak, but her smile remained and a soft light flickered in her delicate almond-shaped eyes.
“Come,” I said, “tell me the truth about yourself! Do you never long to have the experience of being loved? Has no man ever caressed you? Have you never given yourself completely to a man's embraces?”
“Oh sir,” she said, “why should you be interested in my poor life? I am a woman. That is enough. There is no secret!”
“No secret?”
“What is secret in a woman's desire?”
“And in her body?”
“It is a body, like any other. If there is any mystery, it is in a woman's soul.”
“Will you prove it to me?”
“How?” Her dark eyes flickered softly and there was a smile on her delicate, poppy-red lips.
“By showing it to me of course!” I said with a smile.
“Sir,” she said gaily, “you can see women any day in our country, in the public baths, and in the country districtseven on the streets!”
“That is all very well,” I said, “but it is your body I want to see. Will you show it to me?”
She hesitated.
I laughed. “You see? And now I shall not believe a word you have said!”