“Every day for a week the Colonel, through Saito, questioned me. About our life, about our plantation, about my life in England, until I thought I would go mad. Over and over the same things. But I always tried to be nice and cooperative and tell them what they wanted to know, for every day there was a bottle of milk and a little food or chocolate. Then on the eighth day, Colonel Imata asked me to be his woman. He asked me, he didn’t tell me.
“‘The Colonel says, Madam,’ Saito interpreted sibilantly, ‘that you please him. There is no need for you to stay locked up in the schoolhouse with other prisoners. The Colonel has a beautiful house and he will look after you. And, the Colonel has said, you may bring your son.’
“‘I can’t,’ I said and I said it carefully for I did not wish to offend him. ‘I am married. A married woman cannot do what the Colonel asks.’
“Saito translated this and the Colonel sighed and got up. He bowed gravely and sadly and I was taken back to the big room. There was no milk that day or food or anything.
“For a week nothing happened. We had almost no food, and we all had dysentery in varying degrees. Then Saito came and said, ‘You are to go with me!’
“‘Where?’ I asked him for I was frightened at his curtness and unusual hardness.
“‘You will soon find out,’ he said.
“I was terrified. But there was nothing I could do so I started to follow him with Angus in my arms.
“‘You are to leave the child!’
“‘No. I’ll never leave him. You’ll have to kill me if you want me to leave him here. I’ll never leave him,’” I cried at him. And I was really crying.
“Eventually, though he was angry, he allowed me to carry Angus. We went in a car to the Oasthaven hospital. Angus was dirty, and smelled. But then, that was not surprising for we had no soap and little water and my poor baby was only six months old and had dysentery. He cried all the time and that made the young Saito angrier.
“Then we were taken into the hospital. Suddenly we were in a ward and the beds were crowded with Japanese patients. Saito snapped a command and they all lined up at the foot of their beds and took off their clothes. I had never seen VD before. I had only read about it. But these patients all had the disease. It was like a nightmare, standing in the ward watching them, feeling their eyes on me and feeling their lust. Almost feeling them touch me, all these men with sores all over them. I think I would have fainted if I hadn’t had Angus in my arms.
“After an eternity Saito led me outside into the air.
“‘All whites are enemies of the Asiatics,’ he said. ‘It would be easy to give you to those men. They have need of women, as much as normal men. More so the doctors tell me. It’s a symptom of the disease,’ he added with frightening coolness.
“I said that there was such a thing as civilization and that I hadn’t done anything to anyone and that, surely, the Japanese wouldn’t do such a terrible thing to us. To me.
“‘White Imperialists, particularly English, are enemies and should be stamped out,’ he snapped. ‘You are all offal left over to be used in any way.’
“Then we got back into the car and he took me to the outside of a wire enclosure where civilians, the Dutch civilians, were kept. The women and the children. The scarecrows and nakedness and potbellied infants, potbellied with pellagra and diseased.
“When I woke up from my faint, I was back in the car and Angus was whimpering in my lap. The officer gave me something to drink and ordered the car back to our schoolhouse.
“The other women told me not to worry. The Japanese would never do such a thing. Others said, if you get the chance, don’t hesitate. After a week, I was sent for by the Colonel again. He was very kind and asked how I was. I told him, weeping, about Saito and the hospital and he was upset and shook his head and told me it was a pity, but he had no jurisdiction over me while I was in the school and that Saito was not in his command but had others who commanded him. But, Saito interpreted, if I wanted to live in the Colonel’s house, the Colonel would arrange it. He says he is sorry that you have been shown these things. ‘And,’ Saito added, ‘I am sorry too. But I have to obey orders.’
“I screamed at him that I’d never live with him and they could do what they liked but I’d never, ever, go willingly. Never. The Colonel was kind and waited till my tears and agony had stopped. Then he gave me a little food and I was sent back to the schoolhouse.
“Days went by, Angus began to weaken. I just could not see him die, and he surely was going to die. So one day I asked the guards if I could see the Colonel. But the Colonel was away. I was beside myself with anxiety and then two weeks later I was sent for. I admit I was so happy to see him. I begged him to get a doctor for Angus, I said I would do anything, but please, please get a doctor for Angus.
“‘The Colonel says,’ said Saito, ‘he does not want you to do anything against your will. He only wants to help you because he likes you. And he wants you to like him.’
“‘I do,’ I told him. ‘Please help my son.’
“I can see the Colonel so clearly that day, so neat and clean and gentle. I know I begged him to the limit of begging, and then at length he gave me a cigarette. He went over to Angus who was fitfully asleep on the couch and examined him. Then he picked up the phone and in a little while a doctor arrived. They wanted to take Angus into hospital but I wouldn’t let them take him without me. ‘I beg you,’ I said to the Colonel, ‘I beg you let me stay with him till he’s well. Then I will be better too. Look. I’m not strong and I’m tired out and I’ve lost nearly thirty pounds. Please be patient. Two weeks then I’ll be fit again. Just give me fruit and good food and let me look after Angus, please, please.’ I was on my knees to him.
“For two weeks we had a lovely room in the hospital. They gave Angus the best of attention. He had fresh milk every day and a nurse, night and day. They fed me and gave us the drugs we needed. Then the day came. A chauffeured car arrived. Saito was most polite. There was the amah in the car and she took Angus and carried him against her as soft as any mother. Then we were brought to this house. The house is large and the garden wonderful and it sits on the edge of the coast. And then that night, the Colonel came home.
“We had dinner in silence—Saito, the Colonel, and I—on the veranda. When we were drinking coffee the Colonel said something to Saito. Saito smiled at me and said, ‘Please follow me.’
“I followed him into the master bedroom. He showed me the clothes hanging in the closets, dozens and dozens of lovely things. ‘These are for you,’ he said. ‘You are to wear them and consider this house as your home. The amah is yours to hire—or fire if you wish. For your own protection you are not to leave the house without one of the guards who are permanently posted at the gates. But with the guard you are free to go, wherever you wish.’
“As he showed me the house he continued with instructions. ‘The Colonel has ordered that this is a trial arrangement. If you please each other, then the arrangement may last. And, presuming this to be a long and happy relationship, the Colonel has ordered that you are to learn Japanese immediately. As and from this date, you will speak the language of the Imperial Japanese conquerors. This is the only language, other than Malay—which you will speak to the servants—that you may speak. The child will be brought up as a ward of the Colonel’s. And I am to instruct you both in Japanese and Japanese customs.’
“When we got back to the veranda, I tried to smile at the Colonel, and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Saito corrected me immediately. ‘You must say, Domo arigato.’
“‘Domo arigato,’ I said. These were the first Japanese words I ever spoke.
“Then the Colonel said something to Saito. Both men got up. The Colonel bowed formally and Saito said, ‘We must now bid you good evening, madam. The Colonel regrets that he must leave for Palembang tonight for two weeks. He asks that you make yourself welcome in your new home. I will be back at ten o’clock tomorrow—is that convenient? Good,—to begin your lessons. Than
k you, madam.’
“The Colonel was about to go, but he changed his mind and beckoned me to follow. We went into Angus’s bedroom. He was soft asleep. The Colonel smiled happily, caressed Angus gently. Then he turned to me and gently, oh so gently, patted my cheek. When the tears spilled, he took out his handkerchief and wiped them away, and talked softly to me in Japanese and led me to the bedroom and made me lie on the bed. And he wiped away my tears as tenderly as any lover. ‘No cry,’ he said gently. ‘No cry.’ Then he pointed to himself and said haltingly, ‘No cry, Mema. Hurt Imata.’
“When he came back from Palembang it was very difficult for me. It was time to pay and I didn’t want to pay. We were alone in the house, except for the amah and Angus. He had brought a present for Angus, and a negligee for me. In my few halting words of Japanese I thanked him. Then at length we were in the bedroom. Lying on the bed. He took me, and once it had begun, it was easy to pretend and I could forget the whore that I had become. I felt nothing except disgust and hatred, but I hid it from him and he seemed happy enough. That began the pattern of life. I pretended to enjoy him. Certainly I went out of my way to try to make him happy, to see that he got the foods he wanted, the peace he wanted. I was a good pupil and Saito was pleased and the Colonel was pleased that I learned quickly. When I could speak directly to him, the Colonel told me of his hatred of war, but that it was a necessary evil, temporary but necessary. He hated radios and would not allow one in the house. So our life became a pattern and the world. And he wanted me very much, and the more he loved the more he wanted. And afterwards, when he was asleep, I used to lie awake—thanking God that he was asleep for another night—and pray to be dead. Oh, yes, I prayed for death. But at the same time I prayed for life, for this war could not last forever, and if I did die, what would happen to Angus?
“Angus loved the Colonel. I used to hate myself when I watched the Colonel playing on the floor with my son—no man could have been more a father—hating the fact that I hated to see my son so happy with the man who whored his mother.
“The Colonel adored Angus, that was the hardest thing of all to bear. Oh, I could lie under this man, pretending that I enjoyed him—I was surprised how easy it was to pretend to be ecstatic—pretending to be amused, pretending to be gay when he returned at night, but when he and Angus were playing, father and son, then I found the hurt was so huge that I could not pretend that I liked him.
“Every new tooth, every little child hurt, every little halting word was a joy to the Colonel. And soon, as the months fled into a year, I did not hate the Japanese words, and soon Japanese became to me my mother tongue.
“The war was going bad for us, the white Imperialists. At first I felt the weight of the war, and the suffering of the Allies, for the Colonel and Saito told me what was going on in the world. Saito was so happy at the Japanese conquests, and proud of the fighting ability of the Imperial Army, but the Colonel was sad and very grave. I thought, my God, the war will never end, never. This life must go on forever, and, when I was alone and Angus was asleep I used to cry and cry, until there was no cry left within my soul. Those were sad days. Then after a while, I did not want to hear the bad news. Gradually, I forgot the war, and tried to let the house and my son be my life. A defense, surely, but the only one I could think of. Africa gone, the Far East gone, the Near East gone, France gone, and England devastated—all gone to the enemy. But in my madness—I think life is insanity sometimes, don’t you?—I seemed to think or realize that these were not losses, but victories. And that I was the real enemy, and they, the Japanese, the truth seekers. Every victory led closer to the finish of war, all war, and I prayed fervently for the end of war. So it was with me and my son and the Colonel. I crawled into the safety of ‘home’ and let the world pass me by. It was enough for me. Enough.
“Then one day, after the Colonel had been playing with Angus, I found I liked him. He had saved me from the camps. Oh yes, I knew about the camps. And the deaths. So suddenly I came to like my Colonel. That night, we made love. And suddenly, I was pretending no longer. I let my body enjoy him as he enjoyed me. I kissed him, wanting to kiss him. Is that wrong? To love the man upon whom you lean? The man who was the father to your other child? Oh yes, that night I truly loved my Colonel.
“I felt no shame from that day on, and a softness filled my life. Only at night the dreams came, dreams all mixed up with starving children—can children be evil?—arms outstretched, clawing, begging for food, always food, and Angus, fat and rosy beside me, outside the fence, and all the starving rapacious child-eyes on him, tearing down the fence to get at him. And then always the fence would be torn down and we would run, Angus and I, with the talons of the children rending at his rosy flesh. Most times, I awoke before the children fell on him, and I heard his screams.
“When Nobu was born, my Colonel said that I would always be in his house. Always. He told me, now that the Japanese had conquered Australia and had already landed on the California coast, that soon the global war would be over. Then we would go to live in California where he was to be a governor.
“Once I asked him why he had picked me and why he had taken me into his house, for such an important man could, like other of the Japanese officers, have brought their wives from Japan to live with them in their new colonies. And he told me simply, that he believed that the Samurai—the elite—of which he was from time beyond history—had responsibilities over and above wives and war and life and death. He said, and his voice always gentle and calm, ‘It is our duty to have children of mixed races and to adopt, as I have adopted your white son to be my son. In the new world, the Samurai will have two families, one pure and one impure—but just as important—for the future peace of the world.’ He smiled his soft smile and continued, ‘How could my sons in Japan war with your son who is white but brought up to speak our language and brought up as pure even as my own son. Angus-san will be half Samurai, he will share my name and prestige. And Nobu, the girl child, she will marry another Samurai and her children will be of the world ruling class under the Samurai who will rule. You and I, Mem, are living, and I hope loving, for the future peace of the world.’
“It seemed a simple and true solution, and I did not want to lose my Colonel, and he promised, ‘you will live in my house in peace, forever.’
“I said once—and only once—that you, my husband, might be alive. He was angry, so very angry, and said that he had told me it would be impossible for you to be alive—hadn’t he gone to considerable trouble to find out? So you Mac, my first husband, are dead, but one day when we are all dead, perhaps I’ll see you again and tell you this story of what happened to your lucky wife.
“Oh yes, really, I am happy now. My Colonel is gentle, and a good man, and your son Angus will grow up to be a fine man and with my Colonel as his guardian, why, who knows to what heights Angus may aspire in the new world. And Nobu, surely she will have a wonderful husband and perhaps when she is old enough, why, perhaps, we can all visit England and I will be able to show her where I was born. My great grandmother was German, so the Colonel feels I will be accepted as Aryan by the Germans who conquered England last year. Another two or three years and the world will be stabilized, Germans ruling the west, the Imperial Japanese ruling the East—Asia, Australia, and America!”
Mem was drifting into thought waves, caught by the tale she told her past. But dear Mac wasn’t there to be told the tale. Abruptly, Angus stirred in his sleep, crying softly. She listened for a moment with all the concentration of a mother, mind critically alert, interpreting the cry. Sickness? Dream? But it was just a child cry and meant no danger, and soon the cries were no longer disturbing her.
It was so nice to sit quiet, drifting. “I’m so lucky,” she said softly, aloud. And the strangeness of the words held her a moment, for she had said them in English, even though she had been thinking in Japanese, for now, she always thought in Japanese.
Then once more the real words, the Japanese words, came back to her
and she said aloud, just to make sure that she was truly awake—“Hai, koun desh’ta.”
First light met the blackness of the night far on the horizon. Cool air and the promise of another glorious day. She was half awake, half asleep. She did not hear the Colonel pad softly onto the veranda.
The Colonel watched her happily, his woman, the light of his life, the mother of his children, and his children to be. Gravely he saw she was awake.
“Bad dreams again, Mem?”
“Oh, no thank you. I was just sitting and thinking.” She got up automatically for it was wrong for her to sit while he stood. “I didn’t hear you come out, have you been there long?”
“No. Just a moment. Come along. I do not want you to catch a chill.” His words were gentle and softly chiding.
So Mem allowed herself to be led back into the bedroom and into the gossamer cage and she lay on the bed beside him. He sighed, resting. Now she was ready to sleep, but before she closed her eyes she smiled at him and touched his back, caressing him.