Hunt for the Bamboo Rat Read online

  Aiko leaned closer.

  Ma’s face was frozen. Zenji could barely look at her.

  She laid her spoon on the table. “You are not joining the army. I don’t care what they say or what they pay. No army! In the army you die.”

  “Ma, you don’t die in the army.”

  “Your father died.”

  “He worked for the navy, Ma, not the army, and the navy didn’t kill him. It was an accident.”

  “Same-same.”

  Zenji sighed. “Ma … listen … even if I was in the army, there’s no war. How could I die? And anyway, they’re talking to a bunch of other guys, too, not just me.”

  “There were more guys?” Henry said.

  “They called us candidates.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s the big question.”

  Henry squinted. “Be careful, Zenji.”

  “Why?”

  “For one, why do you think the army is interested in the fact that you speak Japanese?”

  Zenji waited. He had no idea.

  “Think about it. You’ve heard the rumors. We have deteriorating relations with Japan. And Japan and Germany are allies. And Germany is making war. Two plus two equals four, little brother, and it all sounds like trouble to me.”

  Ma snapped, “Whatever those men want, you say no!”

  For the next three days, Zenji and twenty-nine other young Japanese guys took exams and translated from English to Japanese and Japanese to English—conversations, instructions, radio news reports.

  Why, why, why?

  Meanwhile, Nami slept in the crate, now padded with rags. Ma doted on him. There was even a new poem taped to the kitchen wall.

  Small

  Dog in

  Box is like

  Weeds in back yard.

  Strong will to

  Live long

  Life.

  Zenji liked that one better than the one he found on the wall in the room he shared with Henry:

  Messy

  Room like

  This must mean

  Mongoose came in house

  Thinking this place

  Is garbage

  Can.

  He laughed, then started cleaning up.

  Later, he stopped by Ken’s house and told Ken’s mother that Nami was getting better every day. “Come see him.”

  A few days later, Zenji went out to the shed, where Ma sat with Nami. “He’s looking good, Ma. You’re a miracle maker.”

  “He did it himself. This morning Ken came by, and Nami tried to stand.”

  “That’s good, Ma. Thank you for taking care of him.”

  She waved her hand. “It’s nothing.”

  “No. It’s everything.”

  One day a couple of weeks later, Ma and Aiko were sitting on the porch steps when Zenji got home from work. Ma handed him a note.

  “That army man brought it.”

  Ma waited, eyes pinned on Zenji. Aiko stood and leaned against him as he opened it.

  Outstanding news, Zenji! You made it! The board unanimously chose you first, over all the other candidates. I dropped by to congratulate you. I’ll be back on Saturday around noon to fill you in. See you then.

  Colonel Blake

  Zenji looked up. He could have a job that paid good money! Maybe in Los Angeles! He smiled, wanting to run over to Tosh’s house and tell him.

  But Zenji knew better than to celebrate in front of Ma. “Colonel Blake is coming here on Saturday, Ma … maybe about a job, and … maybe on the mainland.”

  Aiko clutched his arm.

  “What about becoming a priest?” Ma said.

  “That was just an idea I had, Ma. This could be good. I could get better pay and I’ve never been to the mainland.”

  Zenji couldn’t look her in the eye. The world seemed much larger now. He wanted to do everything she didn’t want him to do, like go see Los Angeles.

  Ma’s eyes narrowed. She pushed herself up and went into the house.

  Aiko stared at him. “I don’t want you going anywhere, either!”

  On Saturday, Zenji was sitting on the front steps waiting for Colonel Blake, practicing a trick: rolling a coin over his knuckles from one side of his hand to the other. He was starting to get the hang of it when the colonel’s car pulled up.

  The colonel waved as Zenji headed to the car. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fort Shafter.”

  Zenji got in. Ho, if Ma knew about this she’d faint!

  The warm day smelled good, like ripe mangoes, with a hint of mint and ocean air. Questions cooked inside Zenji’s head, but he figured the colonel wanted to surprise him, so he kept quiet.

  Patience.

  Like the Buddhist priests.

  Fort Shafter was like nothing Zenji had ever seen. Men hustled around in uniform, big lawns and old monkeypod trees surrounded white buildings. Bougainvillea sprouted in reds and oranges.

  They parked and walked toward a building: Headquarters, Hawaiian Department, United States Army.

  Colonel Blake smiled. “Nervous?”

  “Should I be?”

  The colonel slapped Zenji on the back. “Not you. You’re made of something special.”

  Inside, they entered a door marked G2. ARMY INTELLIGENCE. COLONEL SUTHERLAND.

  Colonel Sutherland stood behind a metal desk. An American flag and framed certificates decorated the wall behind him. He grinned as he walked around to shake hands with Colonel Blake. “Thank you for bringing this lad down here.” Colonel Sutherland shook with Zenji. “So you were top dog in the competition, you know that? It’s good to meet you.”

  Zenji blinked. “Thank you, sir.”

  Colonel Sutherland motioned them toward a couch. He pulled his desk chair around and sat leaning forward.

  “That test was especially difficult. We want the best of the best, and we found two. You’re one. Congratulations.”

  Zenji was almost dizzy. What was he getting into?

  “Colonel Blake tells me you excelled in ROTC.”

  “JROTC, sir. It was a good program.”

  “Have you ever thought of making a career in the military?”

  He wanted to say: With my mother? “I liked Rotsie, sir. My brother did, too.”

  “What do you think about traveling away from the islands?”

  “I’d love to see Los Angeles, sir.”

  “We want to offer you a job, Zenji, an important one that involves travel. Sound interesting?”

  “Yes, sir, it does.” But it sure won’t to Ma.

  “Great! But not Los Angeles. Manila.”

  “The Philippines?”

  “Too far away?”

  “No, sir, I just thought … well, the mainland, the U.S.”

  “The Philippines are a U.S. commonwealth.”

  “Right.”

  “We urgently need a man with your skills in Manila working for intelligence as a translator. Your talent is important to this country. I have to ask you to keep this conversation under your hat, all right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wow, Zenji thought. Important to this country?

  Henry’s words echoed in his head. Be careful.

  “But … my mother, sir … she won’t like it.”

  “That may be true, but this is absolutely critical. The army needs you, Zenji.”

  The army.

  There it was.

  But.

  “So, I would just translate Japanese to English? That kind of work?”

  “To start, yes.”

  “There’s more?”

  “There’s always more.”

  Zenji nodded. “How long would I be in Manila?”

  “Hard to say, but at least a year.”

  “When would I leave?”

  “Soon. Weeks at most.”

  Colonel Blake smiled. “Shall we sign you up?”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?”

  Be bold, Zenji t
hought. Do you want to spend your life moving pallets at the wharf? Ma would get over it. Still …

  “My family needs me to help out. My father died when I was eight.”

  “You can send every penny of your pay home.”

  Zenji felt an excitement inside, like a wave building. He was out of school now, a man, and he should make his own decisions.

  But there was a knot in his gut. Ma might stop speaking to him.

  But she would come around.

  He hoped.

  “Colonel Blake, I think it might be appropriate for you to do the honors,” Colonel Sutherland said.

  Zenji stood when the men stood.

  “Sir … don’t you need to be eighteen to join the army?”

  “You’re not eighteen?”

  “Seventeen … sir.”

  “Ah. Then we need your mother’s consent. I’m sure she’ll be proud to hear that you did so well.”

  They had no idea.

  “Yes, sir.” Zenji’s head was spinning.

  Colonel Blake continued. “Zenji Watanabe, raise your right hand and repeat after me. I do solemnly swear …”

  “I, Zenji Watanabe, do solemnly swear …”

  “That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the president of the United States and orders of the officers appointed over me, according to the regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

  Zenji Watanabe was in the United States Army.

  As they drove away from the base Zenji said, “It’s weird, sir. Already I feel different. Excited, and nervous … and … well, everything happened so fast. I’m kind of stunned. Am I really in the army?”

  “Buck private, CIP. That’s the Corps of Intelligence Police.”

  “Police?”

  “More intelligence than police.”

  Zenji could almost hear the wheels spinning inside his head. “Intelligence—isn’t that spying?”

  “It’s a lot of things regarding information, Zenji.”

  That made sense. But the word spy wouldn’t go away.

  “Hey, there’s a little place ahead we could stop for a soda,” Colonel Blake said. “Would you like that?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve got something I want to share with you.”

  They sat at a picnic table with ice-cold Cokes. The colonel rotated the bottle in his hands, not drinking.

  “Zenji,” the colonel started, “you know a few things about me: U.S. Army officer, ROTC, married, one son.”

  Zenji nodded.

  “My wife, Shirley, was born and raised here.”

  He was silent a moment. Then he went on. “Our son, John, wanted to be a military man, too … but he eloped with a girl in college. Now he’s a fireman in Virginia.” Colonel Blake smiled. “He was nervous about telling us he’d gotten married. We all do some crazy things when we’re young.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zenji said.

  Crazy … like joining the army.

  The colonel paused. “You know, you’ve always reminded me of John. He has the same quiet determination that you do. You’re a lot alike. Strong.”

  Why is he telling me this? The colonel had always been pretty formal.

  Zenji’s mind flooded with memories of his own father—his mechanic’s fingernail grime, his battered old lunch box, his work boots on the porch, the way he brought the smell of oil and sweat into the house with him.

  “I know this is … unexpected.” Zenji startled as the colonel went on. “But today I couldn’t be more proud of you. Wherever you go, whatever you do, Shirley and I will be with you. I just want you to know that.”

  Zenji looked up. “I don’t know what to say, sir … except that … well, I feel honored.”

  Colonel Blake smiled.

  They sat in silence as the colonel finished his Coke. “Let’s go see your mother. Something tells me this may not go easy.”

  “No, sir. She’s going to fall on the floor.”

  The buzz of the city faded as they drove into Zenji’s quiet neighborhood. As they parked, Aiko and her friends looked up from playing with Nami, who was now well enough to limp around out of the box.

  Zenji took a deep breath as they walked up to the front door. “Ma? Colonel Blake is with me.” They went inside.

  Ma came out from the kitchen, got down on her hands and knees, and bowed her head nearly to the floor.

  “Please, tell her to stand up.”

  “It’s Japanese, Colonel.”

  Zenji pointed toward a chair.

  The colonel sat.

  “Ma,” Zenji said, helping her to her feet, “Colonel Blake wants to talk with you about something important.”

  Ma wouldn’t look at Zenji.

  “Tell him I will be right back with tea,” she said.

  “It’s all right, Ma. He only has a minute.”

  She hesitated, and sat on the couch with her hands folded in her lap.

  “Mrs. Watanabe,” the colonel began. He paused, and Zenji saw deep sympathy in his eyes. Zenji’s heart began to race.

  Colonel Blake spoke gently. “Your son has recently participated in a very difficult competition. His language skills were tested over and over. Among thirty applicants, all college graduates, Zenji was number one. No one else performed at his level. It was truly impressive.”

  The colonel waited for Zenji to translate.

  Ma listened, her face impossible to read.

  Zenji nodded for the colonel to go on.

  “The government is in critical need of the very skills Zenji has, and we have an extremely important job for him. This job does not involve weapons, Mrs. Watanabe. He will be safe.”

  Zenji translated.

  Ma studied her hands.

  The colonel leaned forward. “Since Zenji is underage, we would like your consent for him to join the United States Army. We seriously need his help. I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

  Ma listened to Zenji translate, motionless. Zenji could hardly look at her, each word felt dark and heavy. There was no easy way to say them.

  A scratching at the door caused him to look up. Nami was standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the screen, Aiko beside him, hands cupped around her eyes, peering in.

  “If it’s all right with you, Mrs. Watanabe,” Colonel Blake went on, hesitantly extending the papers, “would you please just sign here.” He pulled out a pen.

  Ma looked at the pen and papers, but didn’t reach for them.

  Zenji knew that even though she was torn, she would agree. Colonel Blake was authority and he was haole. She would sign.

  Colonel Blake turned to Zenji.

  “She can’t write English, sir. Only Kanji.”

  “She can sign in Kanji, then, and I can verify it with my signature.”

  Zenji took the papers and knelt before his mother. Neither could look the other in the eye.

  “Ma, he wants you to sign your name. And, Ma? I want to do this. It’s a good job and I can send you all my pay. It’s a chance for me to—”

  Ma took the papers. “Where?”

  Zenji peeked up at her. “Right here, Ma,” he said softly.

  What strength it took for her to take the pen from his hand.

  She signed her name.

  Zenji handed the papers to the colonel, who signed. “Thank you, Mrs. Watanabe,” he said, so quietly that Zenji could barely hear him. “Thank you.”

  Zenji held his breath.

  The colonel stood, bowed, and went to the door. Zenji followed, leaving his mother dazed on the couch.

  Aiko grabbed Nami and ran around to the backyard.

  Out on the street the colonel looked at the house. “I know it took immense courage for your mother to do what she just did.”

  “You do?”

  “I would not have asked you—or her—to do this if it wasn’t absolu
tely vital.”

  “What exactly will I be doing?”

  Colonel Blake held up his hand. “I don’t know enough to tell you, Zenji. Truly.”

  Zenji jumped when Aiko flew out from the backyard on her bike and raced down the street. What’s with her? he thought.

  Colonel Blake came to attention and saluted. “Carry on, Buck Private.”

  Zenji saluted back.

  As the colonel drove away, Zenji turned to look at his house. How could he go back in and face Ma?

  He sighed and walked up the old road to where the houses ended and the jungle began. It took him an hour to walk back, and still he couldn’t go inside.

  “You’re in?”

  Henry shook Zenji awake. He’d been working late.

  Zenji sat up. “What time is it?”

  “Past my bedtime. Ma’s still up. She was just sitting in the kitchen with only a candle for light. Had to pry the news out of her.”

  “Yeah, I’m in. Buck private.”

  Henry raised his eyebrows. “You got Ma to sign? You’re not old enough.”

  “Why did you say be careful about the army?”

  “They can be persuasive.” Henry spat in his hand. “Shake, brother. At least one of us can see the world.”

  Zenji grinned and spat in his own. “I’m going to Manila.”

  “Machetes.”

  “Headhunters.”

  “Cannibals. Kill you in the night.”

  They laughed; that was what Ma said about Filipinos. Rumors like that ran rampant around Honolulu. Everybody loved a spooky story.

  “You tell Tosh yet?”

  Zenji shook his head.

  “How come?”

  “I didn’t want to leave Ma. You weren’t home yet.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  Zenji shrugged. “Soon.”

  “What about boot camp?”

  “Nobody said.”

  Henry nodded. “Very mysterious. Anyway, tell Tosh. We can have a shipping-out party.”

  “I’m supposed to keep quiet about it.”

  “Don’t worry. It would just be us guys … maybe some girls.”

  Zenji grinned. Henry never gave up.

  “I bet we could get you a date.”

  “No,” Zenji said. He was tempted, but that was all he needed, a girl to make his life even more confusing.

  “Stick with me and Tosh, little brother. We know what we’re doing.”