Fate Intervenes

July 1946

If only I had listened to Mutsch that morning.

She intercepted me as I was preparing to leave the house. “Please, Lorechen,” she begged, “please stay home today. I have this dreadful foreboding.”

“What is it?” I asked distractedly as I approached the front door. “By the way, do you like these white linen slacks I’m wearing? The tailor delivered them yesterday. They look so good on me!”

She held my arm. “Yes, dear, they’re wonderful. But I’ve been sleepless these past few nights and last night I had a terrible dream.”

I was standing on the porch. “Don’t fret, Mutsch,” I said, kissing her on the cheek, “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me!”

I was off to meet Jack. A man I had met at the warehouse a few weeks ago. We hit it off after a few days of flirting and repartee. He would come in, smile at me, and then ask for something he presumed wouldn’t be immediately available.

“Maybe you can help me,” he would say winking at me, staring me up and down. “I’m looking for some, well, I don’t know what the English word is but in Japanese it is aijõ.”

“Oh, yes, soldier! I’ll see what I can do!” I would respond coyly to his request for “affection.”

I walked to the end of our narrow dirt road where it intersected a main thoroughfare. We decided we would meet there as we had several times before.

A relationship between us slowly developed. Jack was a handsome, very muscular member of the military police assigned to the Officers’ Club. He had stopped by my house to meet Paps and Mutsch. They weren’t particularly impressed with him. “He’s nice,” Paps said, “but not too bright! You’ve dated so many intelligent fellows!” Jack seemed dull to them. He was born and raised on a farm in Ohio and until he had been drafted he had never been anywhere else.

“Wow!” he once said, “I didn’t know the world was so big and so full of people!” Secretly I agreed with my parents’ evaluation of him but it was his innocence and naïveté that made him so attractive to me.

And to top it off, because he was an MP, he had access to a jeep!

Jack rumbled up in his jeep to our meeting point. I hopped in, kissed him twice on the lips, and then shouted, “We’re off!”

We drove out of the city on a road that wound its way up into the mountains. Signs in English and Japanese were posted to alert drivers that railings around its serpentine curves were not yet installed. Last night’s rain had washed the air crisp and clear and the sun shone brightly. We drove by slender trunks of bamboo glistening as though streaked with honey. I pushed aside Mutsch’s nagging intuition, how could anything go wrong on a day like this?

“So,” he asked as we made our way around a particularly sharp curve, “shall we continue with your lessons?”

“Yes, sir!” I saluted.

Jack stopped the jeep. He and I switched places. We knew this was in strict violation of Army regulations. Civilians weren’t permitted to drive military vehicles under any circumstances but we reasoned that no one would see us. Jack had promised to be a good teacher. And true to his word he was. I felt confident as I engaged the gears and slowly accelerated.

Some of the bamboo already had been harvested. The sloping terrain looked like a checkerboard of fence posts. I took one hand off the steering wheel and said, “See how many have been cut? What’s left looks like random spikes coming up from the ground!” I kept babbling on. “Have you ever seen a circus performer’s bed of nails? Look! There!” I pointed. “The entire hillside looks like one!”

He grabbed my thigh. “Yes, that’s so interesting. But let’s go a little slower right here, Ingi.”

The spear-pointed stumps of the bamboo fascinated me.

“Are you paying attention?” Jack asked.

I leaned over and kissed him. “Of course I am, silly.”

I refocused just in time. Suddenly, the road felt soft underneath the tires. I squeezed the steering wheel to maintain control. When I stepped on the brake I didn’t feel much of a response. The jeep had a mind of its own. I turned to avoid another curve but it was too late. In an instant we were rolling down an embankment.

When I regained consciousness I was lying under the jeep. Jack was bent over me, as white as a sheet. Relief showed clearly on his face when he saw my eyes open and heard me speak. I asked him if he’d been hurt.

“No, no,” he said. “I’m fine. Are you all right? Are any of your bones broken? Are you bleeding?

“Jack,” I said matter-of-factly, “I’m perfectly fine.” Then I swooned. When I came to, Jack took charge.

“I have to lift the jeep so you can slide out. Do you understand? Can you do that? As soon as I say go, try to move quickly,” he yelled.

With superhuman strength he raised the jeep a few inches. I was about to close my eyes and fall asleep but I remembered his words. Somehow I crept out from under the overturned jeep. We had rolled into one of the checkerboard patches. I was supine on broken glass. Fatefully, neither of us had been impaled on the bamboo spikes. The sickening odour of gasoline engulfed us. With Jack’s help I tried to stand up. It was then that I realized I was totally numb below the waist. My white slacks were drenched with blood. Just before fading into a dream I heard Jack shouting for help. Three Japanese farmers heard his cries. They came sliding down the embankment. They cleared away some of the glass, offering to take Jack and me down the mountain on their oxcart. But first they had to get me back up to the road. They put together a makeshift stretcher from the discarded bamboo branches. When they lifted me up I screamed in agony. Eventually, they succeeded in moving me. I was falling in and out of awareness when I realized that I was nestled on some straw in a wagon. One of the farmers threw some rags over me when he saw that I was shaking. Even though the sun was blazing I was freezing. When the cart started moving, Jack was next to me, holding my hand, trying to prevent me from rolling from side to side. The ride was harrowing.

“Don’t worry, Ingi,” Jack said, “you’ll be fine. We’re on our way now.”

My mind was wandering. I was scared and in tremendous pain. What will my parents say? I was freezing. How will I thank these farmers for helping me? What will happen once we get down the mountain? I thought of Jack. Will he be court-martialled? I blacked out.

Then I felt a familiar motion, and heard a familiar chugging. I was on a train. I opened my eyes to see dozens of eyes staring back at me. I recognized Jack and felt him holding me. I shut my eyes again. It was dark. Then it was silent.

The next thing I remember is the wail of a siren. Is that from an ambulance? Was I in it?

More darkness, then light, then the sound of cloth being ripped. I suddenly felt aware. I was on a gurney. I heard a woman’s voice. “You’re at the Army hospital. You’re going to be fine.” The nurse was cutting off my slacks. Then she said, “We need to see if your bladder has been punctured. I’ll insert a catheter. Hold still.”

“I want to go home,” I told her. I must have been sedated because the words dribbled out of my mouth. “My parents will be worried.”

“Not today, sweetie,” she answered. “A doctor will be with you shortly. Try to relax.” I nodded off.

When I came to, Jack was with me. “Hello, baby,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. Your parents will be here shortly. The docs have done their best and you’ll be fine.” Then he whispered, “No one will ever know you were driving, understand? I was, you remember now, don’t you?” I was much too groggy to comprehend the implications of what he was saying. “Why can’t I go home?” I wanted to know. “What’s happened to me?”

Before he could answer I drifted off again.

Later, when the pain woke me, my parents were there. Jack was almost incoherent when he had called them.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you, Mutsch.”

They were relieved to see me. At that moment I don’t think they had any idea of how seriously I’d been hurt. I didn’t either.

“Just rest, Lorechen,” Paps said. “Everything will be all right.”

I woke several times during the night, hearing voices and moans and although I sensed movement in my room I didn’t know for sure if anyone was with me.

The next morning I was taken to the operating room and placed on a cold hard table with a hole cut out of its centre. An Army doctor came in.

“I’ll need to drain the blood and fluid from the edema on your side. It’s the size of a watermelon, young lady. Only then can we put you in a cast.”

“A cast?” I asked in astonishment. “But why?”

He explained. “We took x-rays during the night when you were incapacitated from a massive dose of sedatives. Your pelvic bone is broken in three places. In order for it to heal properly you must be rendered immobile.”

I fainted.

When I awoke, Mutsch told me, “The doctor drained your edema several times. He’s ready to form the cast.”

I was in agony. My broken pelvis was suspended over the hole in the table. The doctor was preparing the plaster. “I hope you realize how lucky you are,” he said. “I’m sure you understand that things could’ve been far worse.”

He wound the cold wet strips of plaster around my midsection. The table allowed the doctor to apply the cast without moving me. After what seemed like hours, I was wrapped in cold plaster from the top of my rib cage to the end of my coccyx bone. Then I was wheeled back to a room where heat lamps hastened the hardening process. I felt like a roast in an oven!

A week later I went home by ambulance. The driver and Jack carried me inside.

“We moved your bed closer to the window, Lorechen, so you can look outside. Perhaps the scenery will help cheer you in some way.”

“Thank you, mother,” I said. “That was so thoughtful.”

I was immobile for weeks. Whenever I tried to move the pain was excruciating. Mutsch became my nurse, toiling without rest, tending to my every need. Obachan prepared my favourite foods. I could eat very little because whatever I did ingest wedged itself above the cast. As a result I lost weight. Soon, I realized the cast was too big, sliding up and down a few millimetres, adding to my discomfort.

Many of the army boys came to see me along with some of my girlfriends who hadn’t yet left Japan. Jack was the most loyal and most attentive. He told me that several days after our accident there had been three other crashes on the same road, one occurring at the exact spot where we had gone off the road. The sandstone over which the roadway had been laid eroded during the rainy season. Consequently, the weight of the automobiles caused the road to give way.

No one in the Army investigated our accident and to our great relief the question of who was driving was never posed. Everyone assumed Jack had been. It was our secret.

To this day I regret pressuring Jack to teach me to drive. I caused a great deal of trouble for Jack, for the Japanese farmers who had helped me up to the road, for the medical staff at the hospital, and of course for Mutsch and Paps.

I didn’t know it at the time but my carelessness on that day delayed our departure from Japan by almost three months. My convalescence was slow and gruelling. All the while I remained disgusted with myself. Because of me Paps would have to wait even longer for the specialized neurological care and treatment he needed to diminish his suffering.

My routine during those weeks was simple. Most days Paps had already left for work when I awoke. He would leave a note telling me that he had kissed my forehead, how much he loved me, and that he hoped I would have a good day. Then Mutsch would look in on me when she heard me stir. After a cheerful greeting, she would wash my face and hands and the parts of my body that weren’t encased in plaster with cloths soaked in warm water. Obachan would bring breakfast into my room, a broad smile on her face and a tray of food always sporting a vase with an orchid—she knew it was my favourite flower. After eating I usually dozed for an hour or two. Then Mutsch would return, fluff my pillows, and ask if she could do anything for me. Most of the time we would just chat, reminiscing about our travels and envisioning what lay ahead for us in America.

Sometimes I would stare out my window at the farmers stopping with their wagons of fruits and vegetables. Obachan would be out front and centre, trading her handmade kimonos. Because of her we were never without beans, rice, herbs, carrots, and the like.

“Your father has received our visas. We’ll leave Japan shortly!” Mutsch said excitedly one day.

“When will that be?” I asked.

“The Army doctor thinks that you’ll be able to travel in fifteen to twenty days. So,” she emphasized, “you must continue to rest.”

Two weeks later I was startled awake by what I thought was the sound of thunder, a deep earth-shaking continuous rumbling. Then I heard the screech of brakes, doors opening and slamming shut, and voices. I looked outside. It was the Army. In front of our house were four jeeps, a half-track and an armoured personnel carrier. Dozens of soldiers were milling around. I saw Jack. He was talking to a Colonel.

I was terrified. They’d come for me! The secret was out! Everyone knew that I had been driving the jeep in violation of Army regulations. Jack will be court-martialled! I’ll be imprisoned!

Mutsch came into my room.

“Mother, I’m so sorry,” I moaned. “Now when they take me away I’ll no longer be a nuisance to you.”

She laughed. “What are you talking about?”

I stuttered. “The soldiers. The Colonel. They’re here for me.”

Mutsch’s eyes opened wide, her mouth agape. “How did you know? Did Obachan tell you?”

Just then Jack burst into my room carrying a bouquet of roses.

“Jack, Jack,” I begged, “forgive me. I . . .”

He was smiling. “Hey there, Ingi! It’s good to see you. These are for you.” It was one of the few times in my life that I was speechless. Jack handed me the flowers. Mutsch left the room. Then Paps came in.

“Father, you’re missing work!” I cried even louder. “All because of me!”

He held my hand for a moment, kissed my forehead, and then walked out of my room.

“Stay right there,” Jack said blowing me a kiss, “I’ll be right back.” He left.

Herr Griesbach and Arthur deCouto entered. They wished me well. Everything was happening so fast. They smiled and then turned away.

Uncle Hans and Aunt Eva tripped in. They brought me candies. They were talking to me but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. My mind was whirling, spinning like a propeller. They left the room.

I thought this was mein Abschied, my au revoir, my goodbye, and my sayonara just moments before I would be shackled, carried out of my house by the soldiers, like a broken piano, and then escorted to an Army penitentiary for the rest of my life.

Three of my girlfriends with whom I had spent many wonderful nights at the Officers’ Club fumbled their way to the side of my bed. They were crying. I started crying. Then they went to the kitchen.

Mutsch and Paps returned. “Are you ready, Lorechen?” Mutsch asked.

I composed myself and breathed my last breath of freedom. “Yes, mother,” I said stoically.

Then the party started.

And what a party it was!

Evidently, the Army doctor had told my parents that I was released from his care and permitted to travel. Paps had received our visas. I vaguely remember overhearing Paps tell Mutsch that Herr Griesbach had purchased tickets for travel on a ship called the Marine Falcon. While I was napping, Mutsch and Obachan would be busily packing, trying to be as quiet as mice. Everything was set. By the end of the month we would be on our way. We would sail across the Pacific to America, where we would arrive at a city called Seattle.

All the preparations for our departure had been done in secret so that I could rest and heal. So when the Army vehicles, the soldiers, my relatives, and my friends arrived all I could think was that it was time for me to atone for what I had done.

My bon voyage party lasted all afternoon. Jack arranged the extravaganza in concert with Paps, Mutsch, and our Army buddies. The soldiers brought a wealth of food and drink from the Post Exchange warehouse. A radio operator somehow set up his walkie-talkie so we could hear the music of Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller. Most of my former boyfriends, numerous male acquaintances, and other men I had danced with at the Officers’ Club came by. Because I was bedridden only three or four people could comfortably arrange themselves around me. Everyone took turns. For most of the day I felt a bit like a living museum piece with curious visitors stopping by to observe. It was wonderful nonetheless.

Uncle Hans, Aunt Eva, Herr Griesbach, and Arthur deCouto left with tears in their eyes. Then came a procession of soldiers. Each one kissed me. I lost count of how many there were.

Jack was the last in line. He held my hand gently and stared into my eyes. “I can’t ever forget you, Ingi,” he said.

I was sad. “I won’t ever forget you,” I breathed. He kissed me on the lips. Then he was gone.

Paps, Mutsch, and Obachan came in. “Well,” Mutsch asked, “have you had enough excitement for one day?”

I was comforted to the point of tears. “Yes, mother, I’m so grateful.”

Paps said, “You’ve made a mark on the hearts of so many, Lorechen.”

An hour went by. I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the rumbling of more Army vehicles. Mutsch yelled, “Oh my, the jeeps again!”

Yaniko had come to see me. She bowed and waved her hands several times as if to push away formality. She kissed me. When Fumichan arrived she did the same. She told me that she and some others from the warehouse had come to say their farewells. A few of the custodial staff peeked in, other sales people, then Imo.

When they stepped aside, Harold Grossinger was in my doorway.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

The last time I had seen Harold was the day before the accident. After a few days in the hospital and once I had regained a clear head, I was crestfallen when I realized that he hadn’t come to see me. Initially, I was angry with him. When I was discharged from the hospital I expected him to come see me at home. When he didn’t come I became worried. Did something happen to him? Why was he ignoring me? I alternated between feelings of exasperation and anxiety. Where is he?

“Yes,” I replied, “a very long while.”

Harold sat on the edge of my bed. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity. Obachan came in to offer him tea, but he declined.

“I want to say something.” His voice was tinged with regret. “I must explain why I haven’t, why I wasn’t . . .” He blew out his breath. “Look, Ingi, when I heard about what happened I was overwhelmed with worry. Word came that you were in a serious accident. A private told me that you had been run over by a jeep. I was about to rush to the hospital when I found out who you were with and my worry changed to . . .” He was near tears. “. . . I’m ashamed to say it. But I was hurt. It burned me up.”

We were holding hands now. “I’m sorry, Harold,” I said earnestly, “it was just a day out to drive around the countryside, nothing more.”

“I had no right,” he pronounced, “but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that you were with another man.”

Even when contrite he was handsome.

“It was just a bit of fun,” I said. “He was a boy with a jeep.” I remembered the first time I had met Harold. Even then I knew in my heart that he would be a part of my life. I often thought that maybe there was a chance for us to be together as partners or at the very least lifelong friends. “Please, you don’t have to defend yourself,” I said.

He smiled. “I’m used to having my way with . . .” He stopped. “What I mean is I’ve been lucky with women. And then you came along. We had so much fun. We are so good together.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “we are. But we both know I’m leaving for the States soon. You’re going to stay here. We’ll be a world apart. More than anything I hope that we’ll see each other again.”

He stood up. “I’ll go now, but remember this. In many ways I’ll be with you always and you’ll always be with me. Goodbye, darling.”

I closed my eyes. He pressed his soft lips to mine. My heart was beating fast, blood rapidly coursing through my body. I nearly swooned.

When I opened my eyes he was gone.