Les helped with the first set of groceries bags, then said to his father and Cameron, “The latest weather advisory from the Typhoon Center has just updated the storm to a watch.”
“Here we go,” Robert replied.
JAPAN
The nearest person to Tiger was a young girl about fourteen. The old man stepped in front of her and looked the pilot up and down, while another girl, who had to be about eighteen, stayed back some feet.
“You are American,” the old man said in English, with a heavy Japanese accent.
Tiger gripped his helmet. “Yes, I am. And you speak English.”
“Come quickly, they are searching the countryside.”
It was not the kind of reaction that Tiger expected. Neither was what happened next. He was led to the entrance, asked to remove his shoes, then was whisked through the front door and into a room, where the door was closed behind him. Tiger heard talking beyond the walls. He slid to the floor, leaned against the wall and rested his head on his knees. He was alone and very tired.
But, for some off reason, his mind was in high gear, working a mile a minute. The house and surroundings were no different than the few Japanese homes he had been in during his recent stationing in Japan. Recent in 1990, that is. Things had not changed much in forty-five years. In fact, some things had not changed much in centuries. The Japanese were extremely traditional people.
Despite the outdoor heat, it was surprisingly cool inside the house. Several paintings hung on the walls. They were the typical unshadowed scenes of hills, seas, rice fields, cherry and plum trees. The architecture was simple. The wooden house was built around an inner court. Sliding screens made of wood and paper separated rooms. The floors were covered with tightly woven straw mats. There was a low table in Tiger’s room, surrounded by several cushions. Bright and medium-toned country scenes were imprinted on the walls.
Tiger fell asleep for a few minutes until he heard a muffled, heavy knock at the front door. With nowhere to go, Tiger listened to the voices of Japanese men. He then heard the old man reply. A few minutes later, the room door slid open, and the two girls and the old man appeared. They all bowed. The old man smiled. The older girl set a tray of food on the table. All three wore the traditional kimono, a long robe with flowing sleeves that was tied at the waist. The girls had high cheekbones, dark eyes, light brown skin, and shiny black hair. The old man was probably in his sixties, what Tiger would probably call the typical Confucius type — very little hair, long stringy beard, with skin as pale as a cloud.
“You must be hungry. My daughters have prepared a tray for you,” he said, while he and the older girl smiled.
“Why are you doing this?”
The old man made a quick bow. “You eat now and we talk later.” He glanced at the girls and the three left, the younger girl closing the sliding door behind her.
On the tray was a cup of some green tea and small bowls of rice, cooked fish, bean soup, and vegetables. The only utensils were chopsticks. Luckily for Tiger, he knew how to use them. He found everything tasty and devoured it all. Moments later, the younger girl entered the room, bowed, and took the tray out.
Then the old man appeared. He sat on one of the cushions. “I am Saburo Chuichi. I live here with my daughters. And what is your name?”
“Lieutenant Jack Runsted, United States Navy. My friends call me Tiger.”
“You Americans enjoy nicknames.”
“Why didn’t you turn me in?”
“It would serve no purpose. The war will be over soon. My son is in the government. He told me that atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Out government will surrender, within days, once the militants in the imperial cabinet realize that the fight is over.
“The Americans will be our conquerors soon. Therefore, to mistreat or turn in any American flier at this time would be pointless. Earlier in the war, I would have sent for the authorities. We only obey orders. Our superiors are supposed to know what’s best. But that will change with the coming of the Americans. My son told me that our coal production is down one-eighth of what it is prior to the war. That is not good with winter approaching. Our cities have been destroyed. Millions of homes. Over one million men have been killed in this fight and nearly the same amount of civilians have perished in bombings. We have been fighting a war on a lie. We are not a superior race who had to rule the world. Our past is now in ruins.” The old man sighed, then added, “You have permission to stay here in hiding until the end is official.”
“Thank you.”
Tiger didn’t know what to make of it. But the old man had hit the nail on the head when he mentioned that the Americans would soon be the conquerors. History told Tiger that General MacArthur, the Supreme Commander of Allied Powers, would rule Japan as an absolute military ruler through to 1950. MacArthur would be the protector of the Japanese people, while they got back on their feet, and it would be his influence that quickly brought democracy to Japan.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Tiger asked.
Saburo smiled. “As you say in America, you have no choice.”
“True. But if they catch me, you and your daughters will be punished.”
“I doubt very much the men will return, at least not for a day or so. If they do return, it might be to tell me the war is over, perhaps.”
“Perhaps. You have an excellent command of the English language. How is that?”
“I learned it on my own. I also know German, French, and a little Russian.”
“You seem to know a lot about Americans.”
“I used to teach physics at Tokyo University, until I retired in 1938. My students came from all over the world, including the United States. I see your government has beaten our government in splitting the atom.”
“Yes, we have.”
“Your flight gear is of an interesting design, especially your helmet. That was your jet aircraft that flew over today, wasn’t it? I didn’t know the American military had jet aircraft.”
“We have now.”
“Yes, you do. Very impressive. I taught the theories of jet propulsion in my classes. It’s really quite simple, is it not? A blown-up balloon makes an excellent working model. When the balloon’s mouth is closed, the air inside pushed in all directions with the same pressure. When the mouth is opened, the air pressure is less at the mouth. However, at the opposite end of the mouth the air pushed with greater pressure. The balloon will then move in the direction of the greatest pressure, which is forward. In conclusion, it is not the exhaust but the forward push with propels the balloon. Simple. Your technicians must have capitalized on it before the rest of the world. We have our Baka bombs which are jet powered, but we don’t have a workable fighter or bomber.”
Saburo watched Tiger yawning. “I’m sorry to bore you. You must know how a jet works, otherwise you wouldn’t be flying one. I see you are tired. My daughter has started a hot bath for you in the next room. A hot bath and a good sleep will cure your ills.”
Tiger smiled. “It will indeed, sir. Thank you.”
“Come.”
Moments later, Tiger eased his sore and tired body into the steaming, almost scalding, hot water of the sunken tub. The Japanese version of a hot tub. To one side were towels, neatly stacked. The water was such a relief that he laid his head back and went to sleep.