F/O Pierce Duration as POW: 119 days.
I stood in the yard today with my face tilted towards the dreary sky. Diamonds floated down gently from Heaven and dusted the ground. They might have been God’s tears, but at least they were something pure and perfect. It reminded me of the day when I gave Chidori her charm bracelet and she gave me her portrait photo. If I am ever freed, I’ll buy her a charm of the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben or something exquisite to add to the bracelet – reminders of what was wonderful in Europe before the war arrived and turned everything ugly. And I’ll frame her photo for my nightstand.
On Christmas Eve, the guards permitted the prisoners from all the barracks to congregate together in the hall where they had deloused us. White powder residue still covered the floor and made it slick, so we all walked gingerly. Rows of benches were lined up end to end and a movie screen was set up at one side of the hall. A Christmas service and a movie was just the change in routine I needed to lift my spirits, then something even better happened.
The fellow standing near the front of the queue was probably twenty-five pounds lighter than when I last saw him in May, but I recognized him right away. ‘Gordie!’ Ecstatic, I jumped over rows of benches like a deer to catch up to where he was in line and butted in front of him before a guard could notice.
‘Pierce!’ Gordie said in an excited but hushed voice. ‘Blow my wig. I can’t believe you’re here.’
Golly, it made my Christmas genuinely merry just to hear his voice. I had to stifle my elation as we continued to walk in single file. ‘Hey, pal,’ I said without looking back at him. A guard eyeballed me. ‘I was worried you were killed,’ I whispered.
‘Good as new. When did you get here?’
‘I was shot down the same day as you. I spent two months in a hospital, then a good while in jail before they brought me here in August.’ Vibrating with restrained excitement, we sat next to each other on the bench and talked quietly without looking at each other so the guards wouldn’t notice. ‘Were you injured badly?’ I asked.
‘No, they brought me straight here.’ He shifted his weight to nudge his shoulder against mine. ‘It’s aces that you’re here.’
‘Sorry about getting you shot down.’
He rested his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor so nobody could see his mouth moving. ‘What are you blabbing about? It wasn’t your fault. We were outnumbered.’
‘I didn’t see you bail out.’
‘I didn’t. The damn canopy wouldn’t release. I pancaked a belly-landing and kicked the shield off before the flames got too big. I was only banged up and gashed in a few places, so I ran, but the Nazis picked me up before I had a chance to hide in the forest.’
I smiled and my face felt strange because it was so unaccustomed to doing it. ‘It’s really great to see you.’
‘You too, pal. You too.’ He lowered his voice until I almost couldn’t hear him. ‘Do you have any Jewish fellows in your barrack?’
‘A few, I think.’
‘Make sure they don’t mention it around that goon there with the white hair and the crooked nose.’ Gordie angled his gaze to the corner at the front of the room where a couple of guards were laughing. His nose was more than crooked. It was ruddy, swollen and pocked like a sea sponge. Gordie waited for a different guard to walk down the aisle, then continued, ‘Last week Old Ugly Nose shot dead a Jewish chap in our barrack for no reason. He told him to turn around against the fence. Shot him in the back and claimed he was trying to escape. So, don’t turn your back near the fence either.’
I’d heard the rifle shot that day, but it never occurred to me it could have been from them murdering a prisoner. I had assumed the guards were trying to bag a rabbit or something. Killing a prisoner violated Red Cross conventions, but it maybe shouldn’t have surprised me since half of what our captors were required to do wasn’t consistently being done. ‘I’ll let my bunkmates know.’
Gordie glanced over both shoulders and leaned closely to me. ‘One of the guards slipped us a radio. We’ve been getting reports from Britain on how the war is going. The Russians are making a push. If they don’t let us all have yard time together soon, I’ll leave you notes. There’s a crack outside the latrine wall to the left of the door.’
Hot damn. That news was the best Christmas gift ever. I had a million questions, but our conversation was interrupted by the priest who led us in a prayer and Christmas carols. I sang my lungs out because the songs and the service reminded me of home. After the carols, a guard prepared a projector to play a film. The Wizard of Oz – either an ironic or fitting screening to play to a bunch of prisoners who wanted nothing more than to go home. I couldn’t decide.
‘We’ll be home soon,’ Gordie whispered. ‘Guaranteed.’
I slid Chidori’s picture out of my pocket and stared at it as the movie rolled. Part of me was hopeful he was right, but part of me didn’t want to be hopeful about anything. When the film was over, I hugged Gordie and wished him a Merry Christmas before we were ordered back to our barracks.
That night I dreamt I was home on Mayne Island. Chidori and a little blond Japanese boy trimmed the Christmas tree in our house. She called me to help them place the angel on top and I lifted the boy so he could reach. He grinned as he leaned forward and balanced the angel on the tallest branch. But my leg knocked the table and a candle toppled over. The Parisian silk curtains started on fire before I could douse the flames. The floors and walls ignited immediately, and we were all engulfed in a bright orange glow. Chidori and the boy melted until they resembled the ghoulishly beautiful ceramic doll that had won first prize in the art category at the fall fair. I beat the licking flames frantically with my coat, trying to extinguish the fire.
‘Chidori!’ I screamed.
‘Hayden.’
‘Chidori!’ I pounded the flames, but the fire only got bigger and I couldn’t see them any more. I screamed and started to cry. ‘Don’t worry, son. Papa’s going to save you.’
‘Pierce. Wake up, pal. You’re having another nightmare. Ow. Goddamn it. Wake up, Hayden!’
I woke up on my knees, chest heaving, and with a tear-streaked face.
My hands throbbed from pounding them against the floor in an attempt to squash the imaginary flames. Everyone sat up in their bunks gawking at me. Chuck stretched his arm around my shoulders and escorted me back to my bunk.
‘You were dreaming. There’s no fire.’
Chuck’s nose was bleeding. ‘Did I hit you?’
‘It’s okay, pal. Somebody get him some water, will ya?’
9 February 1942
Dear Diary,
We have finally received official word in the post about Uncle Massey. He had been initially detained in jail in Vancouver but then in January he was given the choice to either be deported to Japan or sent to a prison road camp one province over in Jasper, Alberta. He chose the labour camp so he could at least stay in the country. The government seized all of his real-estate assets in Vancouver. They took everything he owned with no compensation. Tosh was particularly incensed by that injustice and he has busied himself researching the law, the War Measures Act, the Geneva Agreement, and anything else that he hopes might help. Tosh and my father travelled to Vancouver to plead our case in defence of Massey and his property, but unfortunately, they hit bureaucratic brick walls.
Much to Kenji’s dismay nobody has heard what happened to Michiko and her family. The prevailing assumption is that they would have been sent back to Japan since they had only been in Canada for six years. Kenji was abruptly discharged from his job with the accountant. No cause was given, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with his work performance. Even by the standards of his ‘only worry if and when it happens’ philosophy, he must admit the time to worry has arrived.
I am very disheartened that Tosh won’t be able to attend Law School. What if the war rages on for five or ten more years? I should have gone to classes when I had the chance. I’ll be too old to go to university by the time the war is over. What am I supposed to do if I have children, drag them around to class with me? I won’t be able to do both.
I read through all of the history and politics books on Tosh’s bookshelf while he was in Vancouver. I discovered that the Canadian government can’t intern Canadian citizens who have been convicted of no crime. It violates the Geneva Convention and is illegal for a country’s government to do so. But then I noticed that the newspaper articles have carefully not used the word internment. They call it an evacuation or detainment, presumably to skirt the Geneva Convention.
Constable Stuart knows we are not spies! And what I sincerely do not understand is – if expats are allegedly all spies, why did he not confiscate cameras and short-wave radios from the Bauers or the Tagliettis, or threaten to imprison them in internment camps years ago when we declared war with Germany and Italy? Why has the frenzy only become irrational now?
The Sakai family heard from a relative that two Japanese-Canadian milkmen were arrested in Vancouver for being out before dawn. Do you know what they were doing out before dawn? They were delivering milk. For goodness’ sake, is that not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? Has the entire world truly gone mad?
My greatest fears, now that they are coming to fruition, have left me feeling strangely numb. It must be shock.
Chi