Shigeko, Zamami Island, May 31, 1945
Shigeko hurried by the long line of men that waited for a turn at sex. The sun was barely up, but already at least a hundred men stood in line. Shigeko could smell them as she passed—sweat, tobacco and the cheap cologne meant to cover up the first two odors. She held her breath and walked fast.
The Japanese soldiers had told her she was lucky because the foreign girls in the comfort house kept them happy. At 14, Shigeko didn’t know much about sex, but five girls didn’t seem enough to service the 1,000 men stationed on her island. It was only a matter of time before they wore out and the soldiers would need new girls.
Just beyond the line of men, she set her eyes on the school door. Often the men yelled at her, asking if she was afraid. Shigeko was, but she couldn’t articulate why. It was the way the older women acted that made her afraid. Their economy of movement, lack of eye contact and low voices communicated danger: there were predators near. Some days Shigeko made it past the line without attracting attention. This was not one of those days.
“Little Flower, come keep us company!” The men laughed as a group and started calling her.
She could feel the eyes on her developing curves even though she had taken to wearing trousers and long shirts. Shigeko walked faster, hoping they wouldn’t continue their calls. They continued.
“What’s the hurry? Do you think I smell bad? You don’t like soldier meat?”
A chorus of laughter followed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Shigeko looked back to see one of the men leave the line. He smiled like a hungry cat. Panicked, she bolted the last few feet into the school.
Her teacher was waiting, holding the curtain back. They were both shaking.
Ms. Toma was pale with shadows around her eyes. “Are you okay? I thought…”
Ms. Toma stopped herself, took a deep breath and smiled brightly. It was thin and false, but Shigeko couldn’t blame her. They were all doing their best.
“I’m glad you could make it today, Shigeko.”
Only a few older girls still met for school. The soldiers insisted it was important for the teenage girls to continue. The few girls that tried to stay home wound up having soldiers come to their houses to check up on them. Shigeko didn’t want more soldiers at her home. Her family already housed two as part of their duty.
“Let’s start the day by learning about Himeyuri Gakutotai, the Lily Princesses Student Corps. The students from Daiichi Women’s High School and Okinawa Shihan Women’s School are forming a nursing corps. These girls will serve an important duty for the Imperial Army. They will have valuable skills when the war is done and be able to work in the medical field anywhere in the world. They will be earning their own money, respect and privileges.”
Ms. Toma held up a newspaper with a photo of the Lily Princesses. They looked smart in their uniforms with special badges. All the Princesses wore their hair in braids to keep it neat. Shigeko wanted to be part of the Lily Princess Corps. She imagined returning to her family as a rich woman of the world. Her baby brother would have a pedal car like she had seen in magazines. Her family would move into a beautiful house in Naha.
Shigeko raised her hand. “Can we be part of the Lily Princesses?”
“Yeah, I’ll let you practice on me.” A man’s voice came from beyond the curtained doorway.
Ms. Toma jumped up with a screech. Newspaper pages scattered on the floor around her. The soldier that catcalled Shigeko was in the doorway, grinning. He pulled a rolled cigarette from behind his ear, struck a match and lit up.
“This is a school. Please don’t disrupt my students.” Ms. Toma sounded stern but Shigeko could hear a tremble in her voice. “Leave now.” Ms. Toma pointed her finger past him and out the door.
The soldier exhaled smoke into the room. Shigeko looked away from him, trying to be invisible, but the stink of his tobacco found her.
“I just wanted to ask my Little Flower here why she wouldn’t stop and talk. I want her to like me.”
“Get out now!” Ms. Toma shrieked.
The soldier turned his attention to her instead.
“Oh, jealous of the attention? Maybe you’d rather talk to me.”
He stepped into the classroom and the curtain fell behind him, blocking the outside view. Ms. Toma backed up until her leg touched the little iron stove they used in winter. The scattered news pages tore under her feet as she shuffled. The soldier exhaled again, the cloud of smoke wafting through the room. Shigeko had to do something. It was her fault he had followed here. She put her palms over the lucky shiisaa she always carried with her in her pockets.
Please… please make him leave… please…
Suddenly, a loud blast shook the classroom. It sounded like it came from somewhere beyond the village. They all jumped in their seats and listened for the sirens. The soldier tossed his smoke on the floor and hurried out. As soon as he was gone, Ms. Toma picked the lit cigarette up and threw it in the stove to smolder before moving to the doorway to watch the soldiers from behind the curtain. A few of them shouted to a jeep passing through. She listened, hidden, and then whispered over her shoulder to her students.
“It’s okay, the war hasn’t reached us yet. It was an accidental grenade. No one was hurt.” Ms. Toma gave the same thin, false smile. Her bottom lip trembled.
Shigeko knew no one believed her. It was always okay. No one was ever officially hurt, but they all knew of brothers and fathers that didn’t return after one of these accidental grenades. She kept her thoughts away from her own father. Once he had been a caretaker at the advanced school. Now he was out digging for the soldiers. He was at risk for being in an accident. She tried not to think of him. If she didn’t think of him perhaps death wouldn’t either.
“And I think that’s enough school for today, and perhaps tomorrow, too. Gather your things and go home.” Ms. Toma waved them away with shaking hands. Class had lasted less than an hour. The building was empty in minutes.
Shigeko left on the other side of the building rather than go straight home. She was too scared to go past the line of men again. It was longer, but she could run around the outside of the village against the sea cliffs. There were soldiers there too but they were always busy digging with island men, or at least yelling at the island men to dig.
The men from her village were sturdy and worked hard, but still the soldiers were never happy. They called them names like dojin. Her mother said it meant aboriginals and it was meant as an insult. The soldiers said they were savages. They acted like the islanders were animals.
Shigeko thought this was unfair. When her islands had been the Kingdom they were known as the most hospitable of people by kings. Once her people had their own royalty and castles. Their navigators were sought after by other nations. There was no pleasing the soldiers, though.
On the way home today she saw a group of them hiding a Shinyo, one of the tiny motorboats meant to ward off the American soldiers. She heard there were suicide boats like this hidden around the island. The pilot of each boat would consider it his honor to give his life for his country. When the Americans came, the Japanese would be ready.
As much as Shigeko didn’t like the soldiers in her home, they were better than the ones that might soon invade. Officers had come into the classroom a month ago to warn them of all the horrible things the invaders would do to captives. It would be better to participate in what they called Group Self-Determination they said, rather than let themselves be captured. At first she was confused by what they meant and then the meaning became clear—if the enemy came close enough, the students should kill themselves.
Shigeko stopped to watch the soldiers load the little wooden boat on a cart before rolling it into a shallow cave in the cliff face. The bomb was hidden under a door in the front of the boat. After the craft was safely inside, the soldiers directed the islanders to replant clumps of pampas grass across the cliff to hide the entrance. Someone was walking up behind Shigeko and she turned to see one of the soldiers. He smiled.
“Candy?” he asked. He held out a small paper sack to her. He shook it like she was a hungry dog. She shook her head and bolted, terrified at the attention. Her feet pounded along the beach spraying sand behind her. She wondered how many more times she would be running from these men before they returned to their own homes.
None of them felt like giving chase to an agile native girl. Their stiff leather boots were not suited for the sand. They struggled to march once they were off the wide, stone roads that crossed the island. Shigeko ran through a wild field of grass full of giant stalks that would hide her. She didn’t stop running until she burst into her own house.
“Shigeko!”
She startled her mother and little brother, Chiga, who started crying. Mother soothed him, rubbing his back. To calm him, Shigeko poured the last dribbles of tea from a jar for him to drink. He hiccuped into the cup, blowing bubbles from his nose.
“What is it, Shigeko? What could cause you to fly in here like that?”
Mother sounded superficial, like they were play-acting, but her eyes were full of fear.
“Soldiers scared me,” Shigeko said. “I over reacted.” She was calm now, not wanting to frighten Chiga again. Her mother reached around and started inspecting Shigeko, tugging on her clothes. Chiga was almost tipped from her lap.
“Did they touch you?”
“No. I was just scared. They wanted to give me candy.”
“Shigeko, you know better than to get near the soldiers. Never let them get close enough to…”
Mother trailed off, but Shigeko knew what happened when you got too close to soldiers sometimes. They had their foreign girls in their pleasure house, but there were rumors that not all the soldiers liked to stand in line.
“I know, Mother. I ran. I didn’t let them get close and I ran.”
Her mother pulled her close, squeezing her in a half hug around Chiga, and kissed her head. The little boy protested at being squeezed between the women in his life.
“Did you bring me candy, Shigeko?” he asked from between them.
“Chiga, everyone knows candy from soldiers is dirty. They keep it in their sweaty boots where it starts to stink.”
“Ew!” That was too much for Chiga. He squeezed from between them and crawled away to play with the tiny clay animals their grandmother had made them. Originally made for Shigeko, the animal collection had passed to Chiga. Shigeko kept two of the figurines as treasures from Babaan—the set of lucky shiisaa in her pockets. Chiga coveted the guardian lion dogs, but Shigeko wasn’t ready to pass them on forever. Still, she let him watch them sometimes.
Her mother was slicing potatoes for their soup. Soon the soldiers that lived with them would return along with her father. For the few moments they had until then, the house felt like it was theirs. Shigeko didn’t think about the explosion. She pushed the soldier and his candy from her mind. There were only so many worries one could bear, and for now she would rest from all of them. She took her shiisaa from Chiga, slipped them back in her pockets and went to help mother chop vegetables.
When her father did return she hugged him and tried not to look upset, but he understood. He would have heard the explosion too. He knew his family would be worried, wondering if he was coming home. He knew men, friends of his, that hadn’t.
Then the soldiers that stayed with them returned, and Shigeko’s family became polite like strangers.
