Cave Flowers in June

CW: Harsh realities of war are depicted, such as malnourishment, violence, children in warzones, war crimes, suicide, gore, death, and disease. This fictional story is dedicated to my late grandmother, who survived the Okinawa invasion.

“Haruko! Don’t look! Eyes on Ama and Ne-Ne!” Yuina shielded her youngest from the carnage splattered all over the cave, and of those who had ingested the pills that the mainland officer distributed.

The inquisitive girl did her best to abide by the firm command but couldn’t help herself from still trying to sneak a peek through the glint of light between her Ama’s fingers.

“Oh, pretty! White flowers!” Haruko wanted to take a second look at the Sekkoku Orchids that grew by the cave’s entrance. “Why, were there Maroon-red specks on all of the petals?” She also gandered behind into where they were burrowed, and the little girl glanced at her former bunkmates and uniformed officers… They all slumped in the mud, claw marks on walls, grey, stiffened feet, and purple, expressionless faces with eyes rolled back to their skulls.

Many had foam in their mouths.

With her voice trembling, Yuina forcefully yanked her youngest daughter's head back to her hip. The sense of urgency was palpable.

“I SAID DON’T LOOK! Merikens are coming. We have to go! NOW!”

The horrors of war and invasion were not something Haruko comprehended.

She didn’t understand why her father had to leave and go protect the emperor.

She did not know why her family had to give away their home to mainland soldiers.

She didn’t get why they shot her dog and her Ox.

She did not know why there were deafening, thunderous sounds that shook the ground daily.

She didn’t comprehend why they had to always dig a hole and stay quietly in the muddy caves with other neighbors.

She did not realize why Ama and Ne-Ne were making her run in the jungle during such a downpour again.

She just couldn’t fathom why there was never enough food, aside from sweet potatoes.

There was no time for fun.

Only time to constantly run away.

“I miss Oto… He makes the best BukuBuku Cha…”

Haruko always nagged her busy father to make his sweet tea when he was back home. Without hesitation, he would sing, dance, and create such magical, foamy tea. Oto would then scoop a bit of the foam and smear it on Haruko’s nose. Then the young daughter would giggle gleefully. As her euphoric recall dissipated, Haruko wondered enviously if those neighbors sleeping in the cave had their own BukuBuku Cha.

They could have at least shared…

The three survivors must have walked through the unforgiving, muddy graveyard for most of the day. Yuina knew that, like clockwork, the American ships would indiscriminately fire their artillery all over their homeland as soon as the afternoon Monsoon passed, and the skies would clear for the dark-blue planes to swoop by and take potshots at anything on the ground that moved. Once it got dark, the Nagaoka Corps and Tekketsukin regiments would use the cover of night to relentlessly attack the American positions. They could not afford to remain idle in any place; They were civilians on a battleground. Death would be certain. For their best chance to live another day, Yuina and her daughters must reach the fortified town on Mabuni Hill, south of the island, which has become the last Imperial command headquarters.

Since March, they have witnessed nothing but death and destruction all around them. All able-bodied Ryukuans were indoctrinated to fight for the mainland. Even middle school students were drafted to become messengers, medical assistants, or ammunition runners between the trenches. They were expendable. Yuina’s husband’s stature as a high-ranking officer prevented her eldest from being placed into the Himeyuri Unit. Prior to the invasion, they tried their luck to get to the mainland, but the American submarines kept sinking any ships that tried to approach or leave Shuri city. Many of her in-laws were on the Tsushima Maru last August, which had been torpedoed. Without her husband, it was up to Yuina to keep the family safe while trapped on the island.

They were all warned by the military not to be captured alive. The enemy were godless cannibals, and especially indulged in ravaging any girl or woman indiscriminately, so they all had to cut their hair and not draw attention on the battlefield. Day after day, the attack has intensified from incendiary air raids to tanks rolling into the nearby villages, flamethrowers burning their hideouts, and narrowly dodging the crossfire that always followed. Nobody asked for this fight, but now they were all stuck in it.

Because of her husband, Yuina was eventually given protection by the commanding Admiral near the heavily fortified Naval bunker, but Oroku and Shuri had fallen. Yuina carried the final messages from the men in that bunker for General Ushijima.

Her heart ached, and her feet bled, but adrenaline prevented Yuina from slowing down. The young mother briefly felt relief when she spotted two men in imperial battle uniforms by a hill up ahead. When the trio approached them, instead of providing sanctuary for their fellow citizens, the soldiers frantically raised the muzzle of their bayonetted rifles and screamed out their interrogatory questions. Yuina and her two sobbing, terrified daughters were forced at gunpoint to prove that they were from Shuri.

“How did you know our position? Who sent you?” Before Yuina could respond, the other soldier grabbed the exhausted mother by the throat.

“You…You are Meriken spies! You don’t even look Japanese!”

As the irrational men shouted threateningly, it was clear that they had already made up their minds. Behind her back, Yuina signaled with her hand for her daughters to run.

Escape!

Now!

The eldest daughter, Tomiyo, held her tears and grabbed little Haruko’s hand. They both scurried through the trees in a zig-zag pattern.

The screaming commands behind them echoed through the valley, along with blistering cracks of relentless gunfire. The high-velocity rounds would rip through the downpour and smash into tree trunks near the two girls. Running blindly in a maze of trees, they did not see the rock cliff in time. Tomiyo’s sandals broke off, trying to stop…

Their fall was buffered by piles of limbs, exposed entrails, and charred remains of countless villagers. Before they could acknowledge the horrific scenery, the two girls instinctively dug into the mass grave and joined the corpses around them. The soldiers could be heard shouting menacingly from above the cliff, and more skirmishes rang from all directions.

Then, silence…

Only the steady pouring rain, the rapid beating of their hearts, and the pulse of the maggots were audible in the pit.

Slathered in death, the two sisters gained enough courage to claw out of the decomposing pile and head in the direction their mother was trying to get to. The rain has stopped, and the sounds of cannon shells exploding in the distance jolted them back to the violent reality. They must hurry.

There was not enough time or energy to cry.

Their Ama taught them well.

Stay undetected.

Keep moving.

Find safety.

Most importantly, regroup.

They must find Ama…

It felt like days had passed, and the two sisters were wandering through their former prefecture, which had turned into the killing fields. Malnourished and covered in filth, they were delirious when a few members of the Nagaoka corps conducting reconnaissance found the struggling siblings. They were promptly brought to a cave in Itoman that sheltered other survivors and wounded veterans.

“Is my Ama here? Ama-! Ama-!!”

With her withering energy, Haruko stumbled through the cramped cave, desperately seeking her mother. In the process, she looped back to the entrance. There, she witnessed a familiar face on the floor being tended for exhaustion and high fever. It was not her mother, but Tomiyo, her big sister.

“We need to move you both out. She has internal bleeding. You most likely have an infection or Malaria too, and we are at full capacity here…” The young medic apologetically said. He was kind enough to guide them, along with other wounded civilians, to a quarantine village nearby.

A wobbly, slow march to promised safety ensued, but suddenly, through the woods, a message from a loudspeaker blared from every direction. It was in Japanese, but in a dialect that was not their own. Sounded foreign.

“We will not harm the unarmed or the wounded. We will promise you food and shelter. For your sake, please come out… Do not run… Surrender while you still have time...”

The young medic who was leading the way abandoned the stretcher with an amputee and attempted to run back to the cave to warn the others. A single shot rang out from the woods, followed by silence.

Unable to move due to fear and exhaustion, the sisters and the other evacuees were eventually apprehended by US Marine scouts. Haruko and her Ne-Ne were too lethargic to make a run for it. They glanced at one another in a semiconscious state and were uncertain of what horrors awaited them next…

Despite her petite frame, Yuina was a force of nature. To her, it didn’t matter whether the Americans or the mainland Japanese won. Atrocities were being committed on all sides. She has already lost so much, and she was not willing to lose her children to a war that no one in Okinawa asked for.

With her heart racing, the fiercely protective mother ran behind the two soldiers who were trying to kill her daughters. She took out the grass sickle that was sheathed under the back of her shirt and frantically and repeatedly swung at the neck of the infantryman with his back turned, aiming his rifle. By the time the soldier pulled the trigger of his Type 99 rifle, the discharged round veered off target. The other soldier, who was leading the chase, noticed his comrade being dismembered and frantically ran back to finish off the mother, but his pistol jammed. By the time he cleared the chamber and wiped the rain off his eyes, Yuina had figured out how to cycle the next round into the bolt-action rifle. From a prone position, she decisively pulled the trigger.

After the pungent gunpowder odor dissipated into the forest, the silence was deafening.

What has she done?

Yuina has never taken a life before.

She looked at her shaking hands covered in blood. The rain managed to wash some of it off, but the blood soaked into her, dyeing her palms an iodine hue, as if the murder permanently branded her sin.

“There’s no time! Get up!”

The mother forcibly regained her composure and shuffled down to the last known path of her girls. Yuina used her blood-soaked sickle to cut through vines and branches in her way. The forest floors were muddy and slippery, but she desperately trudged forward, all while praying to her ancestors and to Goddess Amamichuu that her children were hiding somewhere safe.

“Haruko-! Tomiyo-! Answer me! Haruko-! Tom…” The mother found one of Tomiyo’s sandals by the cliff’s edge.

Fearfully peering down at the pile of decomposing villagers below, Yuina’s motherly heart dropped. There was no way the girls would survive such a steep fall. Devastated, she stared at the cruel devastation, and she had lost all of her strength.

Nothing mattered.

The war to keep her family alive was over.

It’s too late.

As a mother, Yuina felt tremendous shame of failure.

She yearningly gazed at the sickle with the chipped edges. All she could think of was at what angle she should insert the curved blade into her own throat. Or was throwing herself off the very same cliff as her daughters be more prudent? She contemplated the only two options she believed were left for her to decide…

Yuina was snapped out of her suicidal daze when she heard thudding steps that approached from behind her. She slowly turned with a stolid gaze, and the defeated mother was met by a group of young Americans. They pointed their guns, but not as intently as the previous Imperial soldiers she had killed. They also had their left hand out with open palms, slowly waving downwards. They were saying something, but the shock prevented her from hearing any reason. Yuina then remembered what the Imperial military had mentioned about what these enemy combatants do to women like her.

Once humans lose their moral spirit, it does not matter which side of the allegiance one took. The grieving mother came to terms with the hell that she was trapped in. Yuina was already guilty of taking two souls. Four, if counting the loss of her daughters… At this point, adding anyone else who deserved her wrath would have made no difference. The distraught mother gripped her modified gardening tool tightly. She swung at the invading platoon with all of her remaining might, but was quickly subdued and peeled off from the cliff’s edge, screaming in defiance…

…Contrary to all of the fearmongering that was instilled in them, Haruko and other prisoners received medical care from the American G.Is. The interpreter, who looked like them but wore a different uniform than the mainlanders, gently handed the little girl some canned fruit, water, and bread.

“It’s poisoned. These Merikens will kill you!”- the other prisoners cautioned. Little Haruko was still too much in shock to take anything in. All she could think about was the whereabouts of her family members.

“…Ama…Ne-Ne…Oto…Ama…Ne-Ne…”

She repeated robotically, since her traumatized brain could only focus on the three loved ones she associated with providing the only sense of safety in this horrible world. The interpreter was born in Orange County and was a second-generation Japanese. He understood his ancestral language at a conversational level, but he was not fluent in Haruko’s Okinawa dialect. The American eventually deciphered that ‘Ama’ was mommy, ‘Oto’ was papa, and ‘Ne-Ne’ was big sister.

Out of sympathy, the interpreter began gathering names from all of the field hospitals and other internment camps for Haruko’s family members. With thousands displaced and thousands more dead that were yet to be identified. The Malaria outbreak was killing more survivors than the battlefields. Haruko survived this far, and it would be too cruel for her to lose anymore. Time was against them. It was an uphill battle in its own to find just three people on this scorched island…

Months went by, and Haruko hadn’t said a word inside the civilian internment camp. The little girl reluctantly wrote or drew on the dirt floor to communicate, if necessary. She, with other prisoners, was tasked with cleaning around the camp and picking up remains of the deceased to be identified. The days diluted into the next. There was not enough food, so Haruko and the other refugees her age would venture out of the camp to catch anything that seemed edible to nibble on. The hunger pain ironically reminded her each waking moment that she was still alive…

“Ha...Haruko! Haruchan!! It’s really you!! Hey…Haru…Ko?”

Haruko has seen so many hallucinations that she doubted the mirage in front of her, calling her name. The traumatised girl initially was reluctant to look towards the voice that called for her, but she suspiciously looked up. As she blinked to readjust her vision, Haruko’s vacant stare turned to one of familiarity.

“It’s me… It’s Ama! Haruko… I am your mother. You have made it! Oh my god.”

As her mother wept in joy and relief, the little daughter's face remained impassive.

Then, just like the rising tide, the young girl’s emotions returned, and she embraced her long-lost Ama.

Finally, Haruko’s war was over.

On the dirt floor of the camp, with MPs standing guard, the two reunited family members bawled uncontrollably. Other refugees looked on, with bittersweet envy - many of them have not had such happy endings with their loved ones.

For many survivors, like Yuina and Haruko, they did not ask for this conflict to take center stage on their home island. Regardless, they were displaced and forced into surviving hell on earth. Along with Tomiyo, part of their humanness has perished in those final months of the invasion…

With the Great War coming to an end, the Sekkoku white Orchids bloomed triumphantly all over Shuri. Some of the local survivors would mention with mixed enthusiasm that the bone-white perennial plants normally blossom just once a year; the abundance of corpses decomposing in the soil contributed to their spontaneous encore. Yuina and her daughter bounced around refugee camps and attempted to return to former villages that ended up being mere bomb craters filled with Monsoon rain. They both found it difficult to cope with constant reminders of their traumatic experiences, wherever they went. The father eventually brought the family to Nagoya on the mainland to start their lives over…

The mother kept her secret close to her heart. Not even her husband was permitted to pry open those compartmentalized memories. Yuina has convinced herself that with the hourglass against her during the war, she had to do the unthinkable to save her children. Yet time was so cruel; It kept replaying those horrible moments of the past over and over in her head, like a broken record.

Time may heal and bury the dead.

However, certain wounds and hands of guilt remain stained forever.

Some battles, unfortunately, never end.

Some losses, one can never regain.