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The Wolves at My Shadow: The Emperor Speaks

The Wolves at My Shadow
The Emperor Speaks
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“The Emperor Speaks” in “The Wolves at My Shadow”

The Emperor Speaks

August 1945

There was Mutsch, standing at the doorway of our meagre house, her hands clasped so tightly as if she were trying to wring all the worry and fear from her body.

When she saw me approach she ran to meet me. “Are you all right, Lorechen?” she spat out. “The news! I was so worried for you and your father.”

“I’m fine, mother,” I said in my most reassuring voice. My heart was shattered but I couldn’t let on why. “Where’s Paps?”

She kissed my cheeks. “He’ll be here shortly.”

A half hour later Paps came home, tripping as he ran into our house to see if Mutsch and I were safe. “Are you alright?” he said. “There’s been a terrible catastrophe.”

“Yes,” Mutsch said. “What have you heard?”

We sat at the table. We found ourselves holding each other’s hands in a ring just as we had when we had prayed in our train compartment long ago.

“I heard the news on the short wave radio,” Paps said. “Operators from all over the world were reporting what they’d heard. Much, if not all, of Hiroshima is destroyed. The Americans have wreaked their revenge on the Japanese. Herr Griesbach ordered us all to flee Kobe and return to our families. The business is closed indefinitely.”

Mutsch was shaking. “We can’t stay in this country any longer! Soon there’ll be war on the ground. We must go to America as soon as possible.”

Paps smiled. “That’s just as I was thinking, dear. I’ve discussed this with Herr Griesbach and he’s finally agreed to honour my request for a transfer to the office in New York. We can now begin planning our trip to America.”

For the past nine years we had found lasting peace in a peaceful land. But there was no way there could be such a thing for us now in Japan.

Mutsch nearly fainted with relief. “Yes, darling. And when we get there we will find you the best doctors and hospitals so that you can find relief from your headaches. Perhaps Lorechen could go to college. Either way, we will be safe. And that is all that matters.”

“Yes,” Paps said. Then he paused. “I can hardly even imagine the suffering in Hiroshima. It is beyond belief. What in the world will happen next?”

The attack on Hiroshima made it more difficult to understand the logic of the Americans. Why would they kill tens of thousands of civilians? We knew that it would be the might of the United Sates military that would eventually end the war but to do so in such a manner? The Japanese had been good to us, they had provided us a haven even when they were bidden to extradite German Jews. Their collective national moral conscience had not allowed them to. The Japanese are a wonderful people. Is this how the world repaid their kindness?

As Paps said so many years ago, there’s so much good in so many.

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Paps took charge. “We’ll pack our things and return to Kobe so that I can keep watch over the both of you. Then, as soon as the office reopens, I’ll tidy my affairs and we’ll go to America.”

Over the next few days the three of us did as we had done in Wilmersdorf. We made lists of tasks and then assigned them in an orderly fashion. We didn’t have many belongings but we arranged them with dispatch. We were getting ready for another voyage that would take us halfway across the world. But before we were able to set in motion the last and perhaps the most intricate of our plans, another explosion blinded and obliterated the Japanese city of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945.

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The catastrophes of the past week had forced the Japanese people into submission and the war, if not officially over, was for all intents and purposes ended with two crescendos of unimaginable horror and overwhelming destruction. The events of the last week had taken an incalculable toll on the country. Both Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been levelled and hundreds of thousands of civilians had been killed.

Everywhere we looked we saw hunger, suffering, and fear. A once proud people would cower whenever a foreigner was in view.

We moved back from Bunkamura to Kobe. Obachan came with us. Uncle Hans found us a decent apartment in a small building that had been spared. Herr Griesbach reopened the office. There was no business to speak of but he did so to restore some sense of normalcy for his employees, to renew their camaraderie, and to have everyone return to the payroll.

On 14 August, we gathered in Paps’ office near the radio, waiting for what was presumed would be a moment of tremendous historical significance. One of Paps’ colleagues clapped his hands to hush us. We heard intermittent static and then a voice. I distinctly remember looking at the clock. The hands, one atop the other, were pointing up as if toward the heavens.

It was Hirohito.

For the first time, the Emperor spoke directly to the Japanese people. No longer was he an isolated god in a secluded and protected palace. He was everywhere.

I don’t recall much of his speech because I was too overcome with a sense of relief. My mind raced with thoughts. I imagined Paps, Mutsch, and I sailing across the ocean to America. I had visions of Paps in a hospital receiving treatment for his headaches.

When the radio transmission ended, Herr Griesbach proclaimed, “The war’s over! We are at peace!”

Everyone bowed and embraced each other. There was consummate glee. As Paps and Mutsch chatted, someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was Arthur deCouto. I was awestruck by his smile. He looked so happy. He offered his hands and then extended his arms signalling me to embrace him. I did so without reservation.

“It’s been a while,” he said stepping back to eye me up and down. “And look at you! Such a beautiful young woman!” His stare lingered on my legs.

My mouth was full of cotton. “Arthur,” I managed to slur.

“You’re such a vision. We must renew our friendship.”

“Yes,” I stuttered. “I’d like that very much.”

Warmth oozed its way throughout my entire body. If there was anyone who could heal my broken heart it was Arthur deCouto.

The Americans arrived and set up headquarters in hotels and airfields in dozens of cities. They commandeered every large building still standing. General MacArthur was in charge.

“Will the American soldiers be here long?” I wanted to know.

“It’ll depend on many things, Lorechen,” Paps explained. “There’s much work to be done. So far the Japanese people have welcomed the Americans so perhaps whatever needs to be done will be done quickly.”

“What will become of the Emperor?” Mutsch asked.

Paps mused. “There’s some ambivalence. Should he remain as the spiritual and national leader? Or should he be punished for his role in a conflict that caused so much suffering and destruction?” The Emperor always had been an integral part of the Japanese people’s religion and patriotism.

Paps looked on the bright side. “We’ll do well with the reconstruction. Our company is providing materials and supplies not only to the Japanese people but also to the American soldiers.”

Suddenly Paps became sombre. “There is something to be cautious about though, Lorechen,” he said gravely. “Throughout the country the sick vastly outnumber the well. All kinds of diseases are being contracted by those left with inadequate water. Be careful when you’re near other people. Make sure you wash your hands every chance you get.”32

At home, Obachan did her best to acquire whatever food she could and to prepare it well. Every meal, no matter how meagre, began with silence just as all our others had. But for the past few months Paps had been taking longer to offer thanks. There were many more recipients of his gratitude. First and foremost were his words of appreciation and indebtedness to God for our safety and for the gift of family, then to the Japanese people for their almost decade-long shelter of us, to the Americans for ending the war, to Herr Griesbach for his kindness and largesse regarding Paps’ employment, and to our friends who not only had weathered the same storms we had but who also had helped us when we were in need. Almost in tears, he would close his remarks with a special devotion for Mutsch and me.

One evening, Obachan brought to the table rice sweetened with beet rinds. It was the best dessert she could offer. She couldn’t understand how such an ordinary thing was so special to us. I look back now and appreciate all she did. As I helped Mutsch clear the table that night, Obachan bowed and told us she would be retiring for the night. Then she apologized for the supper she had prepared.

“You will say no such thing!” Mutsch said hugging her. “Now go to bed and sleep well.”

We went for a short walk after dinner. The night was cloudless, the stars radiant. After about fifteen minutes Paps stopped. “It’s ironic that the Americans are helping the Japanese now, after so much conflict and confrontation. I’m sure the people here don’t know how to respond. Should they be grateful? Suspicious? Some cooperate with the hope that things will be better, others go along with them out of fear.”

Obachan also wondered what would happen. Many of the first American soldiers to hit the Japanese shores were the same ones who had fought their way through the jungle islands in the Pacific. They had been isolated, far from civilization and civility for months. Most of them wanted nothing more than to go home and start life anew. Many Japanese expected callousness from them, contempt, perhaps even revenge.

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