Survivor: A Wartime Memoir

By Michiko Fisher and Frank Fisher

SURVIVOR The personal story of a young girl, pulled from her innocent life as a senior high school student during World War II; suddenly thrust into enforced servitude as a wartime factory worker a gakuto-doin for the imperial Japanese government.

Follow her story as she is torn from an idyllic school life, deprived of her graduation and forced to leave her family behind. Suddenly, with little training and even less desire, she finds herself on an aircraft engine assembly line with hundreds of her fellow students during the latter months of the war.

Share her frustrations of spending mindless hours on the assembly line, contrasted with the sheer terror of constant air attacks by American bombers.

Witness her courage and tenacity to overcome the helplessness and futility of postwar conditions in Japan to finally realize her dream to one day go to Hawaii.

Learn how a chance encounter with a young American sparked a love affair that would eventually propel her to Hawaii then on to mainland USA a long way from gakuto-doin to naturalized American citizen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477248379

Michiko Fisher

Michiko Fisher and her husband, Frank, both retired from Culligan International in Northbrook, Illinois and now reside on the Florida Space Coast. She still stays active by daily biking, hiking, swimming and long beachside walks at low tide. While continuing to travel the world she still finds time to spoil her two grandchildren. Several years ago on a trip west, she, once again, challenged Frank to a climb up 14,505 ft Mt. Whitney while staying in Lone Pine, California. Then two years ago, while on a trip to celebrate their golden wedding anniversary, they both hiked the Bright Angel Trail along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. It seems that after 51 years of marriage, they are… “still reaching all kinds of heights together.”

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© 2012 Michiko Fisher with Frank Fisher. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 7/24/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4343-9678-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4837-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912999

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Introduction

1.   Paper lanterns

2.   Gakuto-doin

3.   The Gang of Eight

4.   Thunder from above

5.   A way to survive

6.   Conspiracy

7.   Changed … forever

8.   Quiet desperation

9.   A window of opportunity

10.   A New Beginning

11.   A decade of development

12.   Destiny

13.   Aloha

14.   The dream fulfilled

15.   Running to the Beach

Afterword

Notes

Acknowledgements

To Frank

Who enabled me to achieve my dream

Preface

My name is Michiko Fisher. Fifty years ago I began to keep a journal outlining my unique life experiences. My primary reason for doing so was merely to provide a method of recalling names, dates and proper time line of events from my past, before I would perhaps forget them altogether.

Years later, in the autumn of 2003, as I entered my 75th year, I realized that within that narrative lie a story that needed to be told. Thus began my determination to bring my journal to life in the form of a book.

Two years earlier the events of September 11, 2001 certainly had shown how acts of war can strike close to home. It served to remind me how fortunate I was to have escaped unscathed after experiencing constant bombings during World War II.

So many memories of that terrible time are still with me. I can never forget those dark days. I often search for a reason as to why I was able to survive; perhaps it was so that I can now witness to others of the futility of war. I believe we all need to cry out for love and peace, no matter what sad state of affairs the world is in currently.

Providence has led me to this time and this place to finally write my story; in fact, I have an obligation to do so while I am still able, so that my daughter, grandchildren and extended family will have a historical record of my wartime experiences and hopefully never have to endure first hand what I went through so many years ago.

Introduction

I was born Michiko Takahashi on September 8, 1928, in Kyoto, Japan. I was the third daughter of Ayako and Takuji Takahashi. I had two older brothers and two older sisters who were all born in Kyoto. I also had a younger sister who was born in Tokushima Prefecture.

My father had a silk business in Kyoto, which had been handed down to him from my grandparents.

I never knew my oldest sister, Miyoko, who had been killed when an earthquake struck the Kyoto area in 1926. When the roof of the family house collapsed, my father had desperately tried to save her, but she was crushed by the falling timbers and died instantly. She was only two years old and I was told she was a bright child, already memorizing books my mother read to her.

When I was four years old my father moved our family business from Kyoto to Tokushima Prefecture on Shikoku Island, which lies in the southern region of Japan, between the main Island of Honshu and the southernmost Island of Kyushu. He opened his new silk weaving manufacturing factory in the small village of Donari. The business quickly became very successful, since he had no competition there and also due to the fact that at that time in the early 1900’s, silk kimonos and comforters were considered most favorable as wedding gifts for young brides. My father had many employees and ran a well respected and successful business.

As was the custom in rural Japan, our home was connected to the plant, which meant I was raised among the constant bustle of noisy looms, weaving machine workers, and customers coming and going at all hours.

If there was ever any concern that growing up in this frenetic environment would not be proper for a timid little girl, let me just say I quickly quelled any such doubts. Hardly timid or shy, I was in fact, quite the opposite. Even as a young girl I always managed to stand out. I was a faster runner than any of my young playmates – tougher than most boys my age - thanks to my two older brothers, and not afraid of a fight!

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Takahashi family portrait – circa 1930

Back row: employees (unknown)

2nd row: my brother, Masao; my mother; my brother, Yasuo; my father

1st row: the author held by mother; my sister, Fumie

According to my parents I was the one always getting into trouble because I was too stubborn. My father would often dole out punishment for my latest transgression by simply throwing me out of the house with the accompanied stern warning not to come back in until I could manage my behavior. Alas, to my sheer delight and his absolute frustration, I was, of course, too stubborn to cry. Instead I found diabolic pleasure in this so-called punishment and would simply trot off to a neighborhood house to ‘ride out the storm’. Later, and much to my satisfaction, he would eventually become concerned for my welfare and come looking for me.

I recall a similar incident when I used to get mad at my older sister, Fumie, because she would have a runny nose but not stop making disgusting sniffing sounds. To make her stop and to get even at the same time, I threw her new pair of shoes out into the middle of a muddy field. When she told my father what I had done to her new shoes, he put me in the basket of his bicycle and rode down to the Yoshino River bank, telling me all the way there that he was going to throw me in the river if I did not learn to behave.

Of course he never took me out of the basket, he was just trying to scare his incorrigible daughter, but I was too obstinate to be intimidated!

When I started first grade at Donari South Elementary School, my reputation as a little aggressor had already preceded my arrival.

My sister, Fumie, was already in the third grade and I was excited to finally be able to accompany her as we walked the ten minutes to school.

One day my first grade teacher, Mrs. Miki, told me that I must go to see the principal. I did not know why, but I went, as I was told. When I walked into the big office there were other boys and girls already there; then the principal came in and several teachers were with him. I wondered what I had done wrong now to be singled out like this.

Then the principal told us all that we were all selected to be our class leaders, and he began to congratulate each one and handed us a certificate and a medal to pin on our school uniform. As I walked back to my classroom I was confused because I still did not know what was going on, then Mrs. Miki told me to stand in the front of the room as she told everyone that I was now Kyucho – or leader – from this day on for the rest of the school year.

My sister came to see me at recess and patted me on the back while she told me she just knew I would be chosen. I told her I did not even know how to read what the medal said, or the certificate.

When we got home after school my sister ran to tell my parents that I was made Kyucho. While they were happy and proud of me, my father did not seem to be surprised at all; he already was well aware of how fearlessly independent I had become.

I remained class leader throughout second, third and fourth grades, because I had the loudest voice and was a natural march leader. In fourth grade our school combined with North Elementary in a big, new two story building at the foot of Akata Mountain. The new school had a big courtyard and large outdoor playground. Every morning before classes we would line up by height in two rows, face east and give a silent prayer for our Emperor. Then the principal would make his daily speech, after which I would lead my class in the march to the classroom, yelling at the top of my lungs to impress on the principal that he had made a wise choice. As a result, I usually arrived at my first class already hoarse from yelling cadence!

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fourth grade class – circa 1938 Author first row, 3rd from left – age 9

My fourth grade teacher disliked me because I always was the first to raise my hand for any question she asked. It always seemed to me that she resented the fact that I always had the answer, yet she respected me for the same reason.

I also loved to sing; even thought I was the shortest in my class I had a strong voice that carried well. My Music teacher, Miss Kondo, was a very beautiful lady and she chose me to be the soloist in a school play, starring as a little girl in the Belgian countryside. My close friend, Emiko Mori, was cast to play the part of my mother; in the play I was to sing a Belgian song with three verses.

After school we had to practice in the music room. During the practice session I noticed girls and boys from the older grades, and some teachers, peeking through the door windows, their noses pressed against the glass, lined up tightly next to each other. I later learned that because my loud voice echoed down the corridor to the teacher lounge, they all wanted to see who was singing so beautifully.

When the day arrived for us to perform the play, Emiko and I did a really good job on stage. We both played our parts perfectly and I sang so well that they decided to let us do the play a second day as well. My mother was so proud; she invited some friends to attend this time.

I was also very good at sports. At the beginning of each school year we had a large outdoor meet with all kinds of competitive events, like 50 and 100 meter races, relays, volleyball and basketball. Because I could run fast and was strong, I was almost always able to finish in first place. The awards for winning were usually pencils, erasers or notebooks. I never had to buy any of these school supplies even into high school; I simply won all I needed.

I could never understand why the other girls would wait to start practice, or start a game or choose a team until I arrived – otherwise nothing ever got going.

I asked my self why? Why? The other girls said it was because