Another Story Begins

October 1946

When I awoke the next morning Paps, Mutsch, and Obachan were in my room. I knew what was coming. I was about to lose another small piece of my heart.

“Repeat for Obachan everything I say now,” Paps told me. “She must hear it in her own language so that she fully understands.”

Mutsch held Obachan’s hand as Paps spoke. I translated. “You’ve been our most faithful and loyal . . .” He stopped. He didn’t want to use the word servant, she had been so much more to us. “. . . our most faithful and loyal friend. We’re sad to leave you.” He handed Obachan an envelope. “Take this as a small token of our appreciation that you remained with us during the times of trouble and that you shared times of joy and happiness with us. We’ll miss you so very much.”

The old woman looked inside. Paps had enclosed a thick wad of yen banknotes tied with string. Obachan froze when she saw how many there were. She burst into tears.

“This,” she stammered, “this is not—.”

Paps interrupted her. I spoke his words. “—That’s the least we can do. There is enough money there for you to return to your family and relatives, to make life somewhat more comfortable for yourself and also for them if you choose to do so.”

Mutsch handed her a basket. Inside was Muschi. “Please take good care of Lorechen’s cat?” Obachan promised she would. She bowed to each of us and then stood tiptoe to kiss Paps on his chin. Mutsch embraced her. I put my fingertips to my lips and then tossed my hand aside. She knew what I meant. Then she did the same to me.

“I will not forget you,” she said, “You are wonderful. I will remember you forever.” She left my room.

Obachan picked up a rice sack that contained all her belongings: a few pieces of clothing and dozens of needles and countless spools of thread. They were the only things of value that she possessed. Then she bowed again and left our house, crying uncontrollably.

Paps’ travel-weary valise bulged with the additional clothing he had acquired during our stay in Japan. Mutsch’s torn suitcase was full. My tattered rucksack was plump. After a decade I still had something of Gerta’s with me. I had wrapped Frau Beck’s bracelet in its rice paper and tied it with its blue ribbon before placing it in my bag.

In the early afternoon, Paps brought a tray of food to me that Obachan had prepared earlier that day. It was filled with plates of tasty vegetables and rice and of course a small vase with an orchid in it. Obachan never forgot. We readied for our last meal in Kobe. Paps said prayers and Mutsch and I held hands.

Later, a large black car and an Army ambulance drove up to our house, clouds of dust billowing behind them. Herr Griesbach exited from the rear passenger compartment of the car. Two soldiers and the Army doctor who had cared for me got out of the ambulance.

They all crowded into my bedroom: Herr Griesbach, the Army doctor, Paps, Mutsch, and the two soldiers. “I’ll give you a sedative,” the doctor said. “It’ll make travelling a little easier for you. The drive to Yokohama may be uncomfortable. For the most part the roads are bumpy. This will help.” He rummaged through his bag. Everyone else went into the living room.

I began to feel drowsy. The last thing I remember is the soldiers carefully picking me up and placing me on a gurney and wheeling me out to the ambulance. Mutsch climbed in beside me as the soldiers placed our baggage in the car. Paps must have ridden with the soldiers and Herr Griesbach. From then on everything was foggy.

I don’t remember how long it took to drive from Kobe to Yokohama. Mutsch held my hand the entire way. When we arrived, the ambulance stopped and the doctor and the soldier got out.

Then I fell asleep again. When I came to I was in a hospital bed, frightened to find myself there. Paps calmed me. “Everything’s okay, Lorechen. We’re on board the ship, in the infirmary. Mutsch, the Army doctor, and the ship’s doctor are discussing what’s required for your care before we leave. Are you all right?”

“Yes, father,” I said.

I felt the ship tremble and then I heard the engines come to life. A whistle blew. I sensed movement. We were on our way. Mutsch came to my bed. Then I dozed off again.

Still sleepy, I heard Paps talking to Mutsch. “Dr. Hoke is the ship’s physician. He’ll be here shortly to meet Lorechen and talk to her about her care.” I found myself impatiently wondering when someone would remove this dreaded cast!

“My dear, Lorechen,” Mutsch said, “while you were napping your father and I were on deck. The sunset behind us was magnificent. The ship has left the harbour and we’re sailing on the open ocean. We’re on our way to America.”

The news from Dr. Hoke was disappointing. He told me my cast wouldn’t be removed until I was released from his care in Seattle. There he would make arrangements for a stateside colleague of his to do the procedure in an office not far from the harbour.

The three of us had been pursued by wolves for so long, our faith and our heritage a shadow that stretched across the world. Our voyage had always taken us east, toward a sunrise, toward the hope and promise of a new day. And so we followed the sun one more time.