LOST THOUGHTS OF WAR RETURN: A DIARY OF THE MIND

TANKA 10 TO TANKA 14

New York, Induction Center, 1942 Memory: Induction Interview by Psychiatrist

TANKA 10

hey stupid come here

my beginning interview

I bristled at this ~

why are you angry he asked

whom are you calling stupid

TANKA 11

I sat there sullen

as the interview went on

why provocation ~

do you like girls he asked me

sure, I spit the answer out

TANKA 12

I expected that ‑‑

you will hear stupid questions

from the men in charge

are you prepared for all that

I confessed I was ready

TANKA 13

don't worry soldier

you'll be fine ‑‑ he smiled at me

interview ended

papers were stamped accepted

I went home with mixed feelings

TANKA 14

I felt awe and pride

but were there looks of respect ‑‑

I did not see them

strangers should have noticed me

a soldier to defend them

This was the induction procedure that started my entire war experience. Since I had registered for the draft, as the time came close for my examination for induction, my mother started to express concern, and asked whether there was a chance that I would not be drafted. But I smiled gently at her and said there wasn't a chance. I was healthy, and they were seeking men who could pass the fairly lenient physical standards. She lived in hope for the improbable and when I returned from my induction exam, she expectantly looked at me and asked how it went. I just looked at her and smiled, "Mom. I told you I'm in good health. Why wouldn't they accept me?"

When the date arrived for my physical examination I took the subway down to the induction center in lower Manhattan. It seemed like half the population of Manhattan was there since as I entered the large building I was swept inside by a horde of hundreds of young men all

there for the same reason. After being given forms to complete, we were directed to a locker room, told to undress, put our clothes in a locker and to carry the forms with us on a clipboard from room to room. We stood on endless lines and were given the typical, undignified, cursory, mass physical examinations, wearing only our underwear and then we dressed and were directed toward a nearby room.

There was a wooden bench along the wall in the long hallway, with some eight or ten young men sitting on it, all holding their forms on clipboards, all awaiting another physician. So, I joined them and sat at the end of the bench where there was room just for me. After a few

minutes of sitting there wondering what next, a white‑gowned man emerged from a small cubicle, glanced up briefly, pointed in our general direction, and shouted, "Hey you!" The first man on the bench looked to his right at the man sitting next to him, and this domino procedure continued until the last man next to me turned to look at me. It seemed like a Keystone Cop comedy routine — no one acknowledged that he was indicated, and all pointed to the next guy. Since I was the last arrival, there was no one for me to turn to look at, and so I tapped my chest and asked, "Me?"

"Yeah, stupid, who else?" was his abrupt, almost angry, reply. "Come over here!"

I knew I wasn't in the army yet, and I still didn't have to accept abusive reactions from anyone. I bristled, and walked rather stiffly into his office, almost throwing my clipboard with my forms on his desk. He pointed to the chair, silently indicating I was to sit. There were no instruments, so I knew this was not another physical exam — it was an interview, and I realized by the trite, hackneyed questions, that this guy must have been a psychiatrist.

Soon the prototypical, now considered amusing, question, "Do you like girls?"

I glared at him with deliberate, calculated disdain and almost spit out the reply, "Sure," at him.

"What the hell are you mad about?" he snapped.

I really was peeved because I didn't feel he was justified in shouting, "Hey stupid!" at me for no reason I could discern, so I barked back, "How the hell do you know I'm stupid?"

My reaction was obviously unexpected and it apparently surprised him. He looked up from his clipboard to say, "Well, your question 'Who me?' was pretty stupid wasn't it?"

"No, I don't think so," I snarled at him. "How the hell could I know you meant me? There was a full bench of guys sitting there. Why couldn't you just say which guy was next?"

This repartee continued for a bit, he asked some innocuous questions from a form on his desk which I routinely answered, and then, in a sudden retreat from his former belligerence, he almost softly asked, "Hey Sid, do you realize you're going to be asked lots of stupid questions and be given lots of stupid orders by idiots?"

I must admit that question surprised me and I slumped back in my chair, smiled a bit grimly and replied with an exasperated expression of hopeless resignation, “Yeah, I guess so.”

It was his turn to smile. And I suddenly realized that this attack must really have been an abbreviated form of a stress interview, since he had only a minute or two to test each potential recruit. Finally, he slapped me on the back, smiled, and said, in a friendly manner, “OK Sid, you'll be fine. Good luck."

Before I left, I dressed and my forms were taken from me and some sergeant filled in some blanks and stamped the magical imprimatur indicating I was now officially in the Army. I experienced several conflicting feelings. First, I was proud that they accepted me. After all, it showed I was in good health. But, I knew that this was the beginning of a long process that meant leaving home and being trained, possibly to be sent to some theater of war, maybe the Pacific or maybe Europe.

Would I survive? How would my family feel? I put my nickel into the turnstile and got on the subway train home, and looked around at the passengers. I wondered could they tell I was now in the Army. I almost wanted to proclaim I was a soldier in the Army and would be protecting them. Look at me with respect — I am twenty, a soldier, and will soon be fighting for our country.

Sir Sidney Weinstein

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The philosopher's response:

Sir Sidney often found incompetence among his superiors in the Army. All of us who have served in war and peace know this experience. It might be asked what happens to senior commanders who criticise even more senior officers. Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka [1892‑1969] was such a man. While his name is associated with Guadalcanal, where each side fought with daring and courage, he was defeated at Kolombangara. His outspoken criticism of his superiors, considering the loss of life and wastage of resources, led to him being relieved of his command.

*****

"It's so peaceful. It makes you wonder where the war is." Masaki, a woman of mature years whose kimono clad figure brought to mind `the older sister' type of waitress you might see in a small restaurant in Asakusa or thereabouts, between drags on her cigarette, was gazing out to sea. "Sumiko san wanted so much to go back to Japan .... Oh! How I wish she hadn't died. She didn't have to die.".... "You're still a child Tamae san. Don't you know why her soldier friend was done in at Moronpuddakku? He got something called solitary detention all because of Sumi san. They were so in love they were thinking of making a getaway and going native. When they bungled it, her friend got the death penalty. And when the man she loved died, Sumi san herself didn't want to go on living under these faraway skies."

"Borneo Diamond". Hayashi Fumiko [1909 ‑1951] "The life of a flower is short; only bitter things are many." Hana no inochi wa mijikakute nigashiki koto nomi o‑kariki. [ISBN 0‑8048‑1921‑1]

Birth, the chance of time;

Brief moments of happiness

Even these denied in war

Hugh Bygott