December Gold

By Ron Mitchell

In early 2001, Professor Rollie Marclay stumbles on troubling information about his father, Jacob, a soldier in the Pacific during World War II. A matter of national security brings Rollies faith to the brink as he discovers the truth about his fathers relationship to a girl named Alaya. Retracing his fathers footstepsfrom his time in the war to the years up to and after his fathers deathleads Rollie to face issues dealing with deception both in marriage and in friendship. Rollies infidelity lends itself to lessons of forgiveness and healing when the marriage bond is breached. Rollies search leads him to a better understanding of his fathers motives; a search unveiling two unlikely friends, a Japanese soldier and a Filipino native, each who dedicated themselves to live their Christian faith in the midst of a world war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490827841

Book preview

Prologue

S aturday, May 29, 2004- Professor Rollie Marclay watched the faint mist rise from the Washington Mall casting a mystical spell upon soldiers and families gathering for the World War II Memorial dedication ceremony about to get underway. The dignitaries, lined up in their traditional place for ceremonies such as this, seemed excited about the events unfolding. Most impressive to Rollie as he absorbed the moment were the scores of veterans experiencing this dedication with their children and grandchildren. Breathing deeply he took an emotional look around. Deep emotion tore through his heart as he focused on what had brought him to this monumental time in his tory.

Rollie could see these veterans excitedly describing to their prescribed circle of avid listeners their encounters and part they played in the War. Family members had long since heard and acknowledged these stories. Although familiar they felt obligated through family duty to listen once again as if it was the first time they had heard them. At the same time he noticed many of these same veterans anxiously looking around, as well, hoping to recognize war buddies from days past.

One older white-haired gentleman in a well-worn plaid suit long since out of style stood alone in the distance leaning heavily on his cane. He appeared aloof to others as he stared intently at the stars on the freedom wall. Rollie noticed the man was wiping tears from his eyes which caused tears to form in his own eyes. He turned away as the man glanced in his direction not wanting to embarrass the man. To his left a young boy about seven years old was frantically waving a small American flag. Rollie chuckled as he viewed the mother reining in the enthusiasm of her young patriot.

So many stories, Rollie said to his wife. There are so many memories present here that would take a lifetime to tell them all. Laurel agreed to which she added, At least we have brought one memory to rest regarding your father. Rollie thought back to his father, Jacob Marclay, who never shared much about the war despite serving with honor and distinction.

Rollie remembered when he and his sisters would hound their father to tell them about the war and how many men he had killed. Occasionally, Jacob would tell them about times when he was on guard duty and even some enemy soldiers he had to kill as part of that duty. He would salute and make like a soldier back in boot camp going through the routine drills (left, right, right face, about face). In the end of his clowning Rollie recalled his father always getting serious with them as he hammered into their mind that war was not something to be glorified. Instead his father seemed deeply saddened and moved by those events remembered. Rollie didn’t understand then. Now he did understand recalling the events he and his family had experienced the past few years.

Jacob would often recall war buddies, especially one in particular who didn’t make it home, and he would become distant. His father certainly was a mystery when it came to his war experiences in the words he didn’t share. Dr. James Rolland Marclay sat with his wife Dr. Laurel Kristina Marclay and his grown children on this cool May morning anxious for the festivities to begin.

His thoughts drifted from the Washington Mall to one such story his father had not shared; a story that had literally consumed their lives for the past four years. Like a puzzle all the pieces had now come together. The mystery seemingly solved made Rollie more proud in that moment than he had ever been before. The band at the forefront of the Mall began to play the familiar patriotic tunes that carried our troops to victory in 1945. The tunes took him back in a daydream to his school days.

It was when he was a junior in high school that his father last shared with him personally from an experience he had in the war. Later he had shared this same story with the twins, but it was different than when it was told to him back then as he was approaching manhood. It was so rare Dad shared a story with us, he said out loud. Did you say something James? Laurel asked as she turned in his direction placing her hand on his neck. She was the only one who called him James. Just thinking, he quietly answered. Rollie’s thoughts replayed the story in his mind as if his father was retelling his experience at that moment using the backdrop of the War Memorial as his easel.

He distinctly remembered an unusual sadness present with his father on that day as he told Rollie how he left the ship in his LCM loaded with a Sherman Tank. This great adventure story shared only a few times, never really had an ending. Jacob was visibly excited about the baby he said was rescued, but then the story drifted each time his father told it as if there was something else he wanted to tell. He never did! It wasn’t until Jacob’s death that the true essence of his father’s story came to light. Rollie was consoled by what he now knew about the secret kept hidden.

JANUARY 1945–The beach was lined with palm trees as he came within site of the landing. Excitedly and with self-assurance, Jacob waved to his friend Billy traveling in an LCM about 100 yards away. He and his buddy from Company C went all the way back to Ft. Edwards Training Base in Massachusetts. One moment he was waving to his buddy and the next instant his buddy was gone; his LCM hit by a mortar shell. To Jacob it looked like a direct hit on the gas cargo Billy was transporting. Jacob shook off his grief as he became very somber and stanch on his assigned task.

The waves in the surf were choppy and overcrowded with sandbars waiting to jar his landing craft to a swift jolting stop. While maneuvering around the sandbars he could see the small dunes topped by what was left of the palm trees along the Lingayen Gulf in Luzon. The destroyer’s big guns had once again opened up on the beach about 500 yards away from where he would be landing. The exploding shells pounded the dunes as he continued to make his way through the choppy surf ever closer to his landing destination. How could anything live through that? Jacob yelled down to the last man to board the tank who obviously couldn’t hear what Jacob was saying.

The big guns suddenly grew ominously quiet as the amphibious crafts drew close to the beach. Jacob gave the heads up sign to the last man boarding the tank to get ready to off-load as the ramp began its plunge downward to the beach. This was the first beachhead to retake Manila. Jacob strained his eyes making out the faint outline of the ships in the task force where it was rumored General Douglas MacArthur was also preparing to land on an adjoining beachhead.

The landing was taking on the same scenario as an earlier invasion of Leyte a lifetime before. The General, of course, wasn’t landing right then, but Jacob knew sometime that morning his task would help pave the way for the General to retake Manila from the Japanese. Awakened from distracting thoughts which cloaked his fear and sorrow, a crashing wave forced him to concentrate on the task at hand. The waves, a lot rougher than predicted, pounded the shoreline. Jacob heard cries from the water’s edge about 40 yards away as a few shots rang out that silenced the voice.

Dear God, Jacob gasped loudly in a prayer as he saw a man come out of nowhere stepping right into the path of the tank that had just off-loaded onto the beach from his LCM. It was a fairly narrow beach, and it appeared as if the man’s torso and legs had been completely crushed by the tank treads. The tank made a sharp right just off the ramp making the boat lurch. As the boat lurched upward he saw a baby lying on the ground directly in the tank’s path. The man who had just been run over had outstretched arms seemingly reaching out for the baby. Jacob yelled out loudly, "watch out for the kid," knowing those in the tank couldn’t hear him.

Reacting on instinct not bravery, he jumped over the side of his LCM. Scooping the baby into his arms he rolled a somersault in the sand out of the way of the tank. The tank came to a crashing halt where the baby had been just a few moments earlier.

The top hatch of the tank flew open with a lieutenant catching himself just short of spouting out an expletive. He saw the same soldier who had been operating the LCM off to his left side holding a baby. The lieutenant shouted at the top of his voice at Jacob. Soldier, what are you doing with that baby? he demanded speaking superficially; mesmerized by seeing a baby in a battle zone.

After watching the soldier place the baby on some rocks out of the way, his gaze followed the amphibious pilot as he made his way behind the tank. Briefly glancing at the LCM drifting slightly sideways when struck by a wave, the lieutenant’s gaze again followed the soldier’s path taking him to a Filipino man. The soldier leaned over the presumed dead man on the beach.

The baby was screaming and crying, naked as the day she was born, not realizing the scope of the tragedy that had happened and also been averted. Jacob had previously set the baby on some rocks protruding from the beach to his right and had hurriedly rushed over to the dead man. Jacob noticed a dead woman slightly up the dune appearing to have been shot through the neck, but he couldn’t tell for sure because of the distance. It must be the baby’s mother, he surmised yelling the news to the lieutenant, gesturing towards the dead woman. He could not take his eyes off the man. Being the first to arrive at the gruesome sight behind the tank he found a grotesquely disfigured man who was surprisingly still alive. Jacob quickly identified the man as Filipino rather than Japanese.

The man’s steely eyes pierced Jacob’s soul as he spoke in perfect English, Alaya—my Alaya…take care of my Alaya, saying this while desperately handing Jacob a small pouch. With a fleeting sign of life he whispered, Alayaaaaaaaaa! Then, he died. Jacob turned to the baby perplexed at what to do. He looked at the pouch, and then into the dead man’s eyes once again wondering about the man’s identity?" The 2nd lieutenant came up behind him as Jacob secretively stuck the leather pouch inside his vest. He wasn’t quite sure why he thought that information was privy to him alone at that moment. Deciding that this was his destiny, he did not inform the lieutenant about the leather pouch.

The lieutenant asked, Is the man dead? Jacob nodded positively. Then let’s move off the beach, soldier. Nothing more can be done. The corpsmen will take care of the rest. Get that LCM out of here. Yes, sir, Jacob said looking back from the rocks at the dead man while picking Alaya up in his arms. What are you going to do with the baby, soldier? the lieutenant asked. I guess I’ll take her to the medics on the ship. I can’t leave her here, Jacob responded. Finding a blanket in his storage locker he wrapped the baby up. A baby in the middle of a war, who’d a thought such a thing, he reflected as he fired up the LCM’s engine in a quick reverse trek back out to sea. Jacob looked down at Alaya sitting at his feet and cautiously opened the pouch.

CHAPTER 1

The Goldsmith’s Story

W hat was today’s date? Could it be that it was actually December of 1944? Christmas was not that far away Enrique thought to himself knowing there would be no celebration for his small Filipino family this year. A mosquito buzzed around his face as he gazed into the fire outside his modest thatch roofed residence. Enrique Salazar Bocani was deep in thought as he tried to sort things out. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. Rumors were all around. It was in his captors’ eyes, which vividly revealed to him that the rumors were true.

It was just a matter of time, he believed as did his captors, before the Americans would invade. Deep inside his soul he knew the lives of he and his young family were in grave danger when that happened. Enrique knew too much, and because of that he was a liability to Japanese security. Although spared from certain death many years earlier because of his goldsmith abilities, these same abilities could be to his detriment and demise if there was no intervention.

He looked down at his task at hand smelting confiscated gold into gold ingots for the Japanese Imperial Army. As he squatted there by the fire peering down at his reflection in the melted gold, indicating refined gold, his thoughts drifted back to when the missionary told him to watch for the reflection in the gold. It seemed so long ago, and yet it was just like yesterday, when he remembered back to his first trip from his native Mindanao to visit his grandparents on his papang’s side of the family.

His father’s heritage was from the Talalog people of Manila on the island of Luzon, and his mother was of the Visaya people of the central Philippines. Enrique had been told repeatedly the story of how his mother’s family had made the move to Mindanao. Fortunately, at least in Enrique’s mind, his father insisted on his also learning the Talalog dialect, as well as, English, all of which he spoke fluently.

Enrique’s papang and mamang always wanted him to take over the family farm when he was old enough. However, Enrique had a desire as most kids did for a more glamorous life; something he now understood in retrospect. Once on a trip to the other side of Mindanao with some cousins and his uncle, they met some men who were mining gold. They told of fortunes to be made in gold, but it wasn’t until the trip to Manila on the island of Luzon with his father that he decided decisively he wanted to become something other than a farmer. As he walked by counters of gold chains, rings, and gold plated cups and saw the jewelry people wore as they walked down the street, he was enchanted by the life that seemed so far above being a farmer like his father.

Back home in Mindanao after this youthful trip to Manila, Enrique began to make necklaces. At fourteen years of age he sold his necklaces to travelers who came into Cotobato. They were not gold necklaces, but one man was impressed. This traveler contacted a German missionary he knew on the other side of the island, a jeweler by trade, who at once saw Enrique’s interest and talent.

Wanting Enrique to see more than just the monetary satisfaction of his craft, the German missionary, after speaking with the boy’s parents, set out to teach and instill in his new young pupil a sense of pride, merit, quality, and a spiritual purpose in his work. Although Enrique never could pronounce that missionary’s name right, he nonetheless remembered and learned, not just the skill of being a goldsmith in the jewelry trade, but also living life through faith and honesty.

Now as a young man in his 20’s, Enrique had found success as a jeweler. He was sought out by many in the Philippines and in much of the Asian world as the jeweler to see when you wanted a quality gold item to be crafted. It was on one such business trip to Manila on Luzon where he was selling some of his works and buying more gold and jewelry supplies, when he first heard of the Japanese landing on Leyte in December 1941. Leyte was halfway between Manila and the island of Mindanao where he lived. He and those around him were frightened by the events of that announcement!

Like any young person when faced with a traumatic life situation, the only thought entering his mind was to go home. Home was a shelter to Enrique. All he wanted was to embrace his mom and dad and to seek their protection from the rising storm. The Japanese invading places was not a new thing. The Japanese had invaded Manchuria in 1931 and China in 1936. However, this was a new blow. It wasn’t over there. It was here where he lived.

News was just coming to the Philippines about the attack by the Japanese on Pearl Harbor against the Americans. Now the Japanese had attacked Leyte. Enrique became increasingly nervous as he purchased his ticket for home. Greed had entered the hearts of some ship captains as he paid a high price, over three times the amount he had paid to get to Manila, for the ticket home. The ticket price was high, but he thanked the ticket master. Enrique picked up his luggage and supplies and headed for the boat waiting at the dock. Enrique was just thankful to get a ticket! Most of the people waiting on the dock could not afford the higher prices of the tickets. Enrique looked smugly around at those who could not afford the price and felt guilty for his indifferent attitude; all the while sustaining the glares from those who gave him hateful looks. He pushed his way through the crowd on the dock. At that moment he did not care. He had a ticket!

There was uneasiness in the air that he could not describe even to this day as he sat by the fire. His fortune had turned to despair a few hours after the boat left its Manila port. It was on this frantic trip back from Manila to Mindanao that the Japanese captured the boat on which he was a passenger. Now the war had come here, directly to him, and for the first time in his young life Enrique was really distressed. War had come to where he lived and worked.

He cried out in panic along with the other passengers and thought about jumping overboard to escape the Japanese or to go back to his cabin and hide hoping the nightmare would all go away. One of the prayers taught to him by the German missionary of his youth flashed through his mind. Enrique prayed this prayer asking God to allow his mom and dad to escape this apocalypse.

Is it possible that the Japanese also invaded Mindanao? Please God, keep my family safe! he prayed. His prayers on that day were short lived as the actions of the soldiers brought him back to the reality of the moment. Enrique sat by the fire trying to forget the memories of that day when the passengers on the boat were being questioned one by one. It was a scene he could not erase from his memory. The Lord knew he had tried. He had prayed enough about forgetting how some were killed on the spot. Others were shot as they attempted to escape, grimacing as he thought of one family viciously murdered. After some soldiers ripped the clothes off a woman they savagely groped her. As they hit her for struggling and screaming while raping her, the husband went berserk. Enrique gasped, thinking back to that frightful day. He remembered that valiant man who attempted to fight for his wife. One soldier ran him through the gut with a bayonet. Another shot the woman and her three young children after two of the men had their way with the woman.

Enrique had cried then and he cried now as he grimaced with remembrance. The man preceding Enrique opposite the soldiers had blood spattered over his body from the dead man on the deck and the splattered blood of the man’s family. Another man gave a short sign of the cross over his chest just before the soldiers shot him. Enrique silently honored this man’s testimony and bravery still struggling with the nightmare of what he retained from that day. The horror of that moment lingered in his mind as he remembered the passengers lined up behind him increasingly wary of their fate as he was for his fate. After witnessing the terrible scene with the woman and her children, Enrique had felt lucky to still be alive. God’s grace had surely been with me so far, he reflected quietly lifting his hand to the heavens. One of the soldiers took notice of his act of worship when he saw Enrique’s gold ring uplifted into the air.

Thinking back to the nightmare of that day he recognized it was the gold ring on his finger and the golden cross around his neck that initially saved his life. After witnessing his act of worship the soldiers roughly grabbed Enrique questioning and beating him until his face was bloody and bruised; his expensive silk shirt and white cotton suit now blood stained and dirty.

Knowing he must be rich, seeing Enrique’s gold ring, these soldiers sought to find anything that would be of use to them before they killed him. Enrique tried to tell them, but they just didn’t understand his language. They beat him when he spoke English. They beat him when he spoke the few Japanese words he knew. They beat him until he told them his occupation. They did understand the word gold, in his native Tagalog dialect, but Enrique became very frustrated because of their not understanding what he was saying about the gold. After pulling the gold ring from his finger, threatening to cut it off, one soldier yanked at the gold cross hanging from his neck.

They had no intention of letting a dead man keep that kind of a prize. Enrique prepared himself to be a martyr as the man before him had been just minutes before. One of the soldiers prodded him to the boat railing preparing to run him through with his bayonet. Before that happened one of the boarding officers, fired his pistol, shooting one soldier between the eyes. The dead soldier seemingly had received justice for the rape and murder of the woman lying dead on the deck at his feet. The officer also shot the man who had been ready to run his blade through Enrique, stopping short the private’s deadly strike of his bayonet. Grabbing the gold cross dangling from the dead soldier’s hand the officer angrily shouted at several of the soldiers. The display of his rank and violent anger temporarily stopped the frenzied killing taking place on deck.

In Enrique’s mind, the soldier, although in a violent rage, seemed to be a man of wisdom, compassion, and faith that appeared to abhor the killing. He spoke to Enrique in well-defined English. Boldly asking about his English skills, Enrique learned that this officer had been a graduate student in an American university in California, ten years before until he was called back to serve in the Imperial Army. He seemed proud to be able to show off his English speaking abilities to his subordinate soldiers and the prisoner before him justifying his violent outburst moments before. Upon questioning Enrique, he learned of the gold supplies and jewelry Enrique had in his cabin. Once in his cabin, the soldiers ransacked everything of value.

After asking if he had more gold in the cargo, the officer recognized a vase Enrique had in his cabin that was gold trimmed and signed with an insignia used by a famous goldsmith. Looking him in the eye he asked, Where did you get this vase? Did you buy it? Enrique emphatically shook his head no! Are you this man? he excitedly said pointing to the insignia. Enrique nodded yes, not knowing why that struck such a positive cord with this officer.

He tersely spoke in Japanese to someone of a notably superior rank who had just come on the scene. He and a small detachment of soldiers under his immediate command abruptly bound Enrique’s hands and prodded him off the ship. A shout sounded from behind them. The officer leading them off the ship appeared to grimace. Enrique turned to see the soldiers once again killing at random most of the others on board. Once off the ship, he was blindfolded and taken to another location. He asked the guards where they were going, but they just shoved him forward without answering. Thanking God for the reprieve, Enrique’s hope was now more than ever in God’s hands.

After about an hour of walking and stumbling through the jungle path, they arrived at a place somewhere in Leyte (at least that is what he thought he overheard the guards saying). They arrived at a quiet place in the middle of a jungle. Take off his blindfold, said the commanding officer of the officer who had first shown mercy to Enrique on the boat. What is his name? asked the higher-ranking officer. The Japanese command officer, whom he had stood before with head bowed, was not overly impressed with the small man before him. To him this officer seemed weak minded, sometimes suspicious that this officer was a Christian rather than following the traditional faith of the Japanese people.

The proud lieutenant answered, He said his name is Enrique Salazar Bocani. The Japanese commander looked at Enrique with steely brown eyes that penetrated through him. What is your name? asked the commander in English. Are you from Mindanao-the famous goldsmith from Mindanao? he asked inquisitively.

Fortunately for Enrique his reputation as a goldsmith had bigger tentacles than he had originally known or dared to believe. Enrique felt a tinge of hope and maybe pride ripple through his backbone as he answered as best he could in English. It was his intent at that moment to impress his captors with what he knew as he proclaimed confidently, Yes, I am.

The commander quite unexpectedly bowed to Enrique when it was confirmed that he was the Enrique Salazar Bocani, goldsmith from Mindanao. The commanding officer smiled at his younger protégé and expressed his pleasure to the officer for his fortitude and foresight. This is a great prize, and it will find us much favor, said the commander loud enough for all present to hear. Enrique did not understand what the commander said because it was spoken in Japanese. However, Enrique sensed it was something positive about his future and survival. Enrique sensed immediate goodwill with this Japanese commander. A few days later after another long trek by truck through jungle roads newly rutted and torn by war, the Japanese commander introduced his prisoner to his commanding officer.

Prince Chichibu had been to Manila several times before the hostilities began, and he had often seen and admired Enrique’s work. Even in Japan the works of this man before him had been sought out by those of culture and those who possessed the wealth in Japan. You have done well. The emperor will be pleased. He then dismissed the commander and all the guards that came with him, leaving Enrique standing alone before Prince Chichibu.

It was not until later that Enrique discovered that this commander was Prince Chichibu, the brother of the Emperor of Japan, Hirohito. Prince Chichibu looked at this young conscript standing across from his nephew, Prince Takeda Tsuneyoshi. In Japanese Prince Takeda said to his uncle, "He can serve kin no yuri (Golden Lily) well." Enrique did not understand what was said, but he was encouraged by the softened tone.

Later Enrique received information that Prince Chichibu was the overseer of all gold looted from the treasures of Southeast Asia, especially Burma, China, Manchuria, and now the Philippines. Gold was a god to this commander. Now after three years from that first day of captivity Enrique had managed to survive because of his relationship to the prince. He had only seen him eight times since that initial meeting, but he knew he had survived because of him. Not only had he survived, because of his ability to smelt gold and to fashion jewelry for his captors, he had been given special favors. Now he sat by the fire judging that his favorability had about run out.

Except for the loss of his freedom, which he would trade all his wealth if it still existed back in Mindanao, things had not been all bad, as he contemplated his fate. Despite his captivity, he had been given the privileges not afforded most of the other prisoners. Never was he hungry or lacked a dry place to sleep. As he did the work, he was given work aprons, necessary tools, and status. Although he was not allowed to leave the compound, he was basically left alone in order to give him a quiet place to do his work. He had learned to speak Japanese quite well, and he had come to appreciate Japanese customs believing it to be good for future business in his trade as a goldsmith. If the war ever ended and he was fortunate enough to make it out alive he would better be able to relate to his Japanese customers. He had discovered many of their likes and dislikes.

But there was one driving force that allowed him greater joy and understanding of the Japanese. As Enrique sat by the fire coming fully back to the present after thinking of his first days of being captured, he thought of a particular time two years previous in December that he vividly remembered. Even though the palace was just a thirty minute walk from his residence, up to that time, he had been to the palace only four times. He had been in captivity one year. Time had certainly passed since then, he fervently thought. Looking around he purposefully recalled his time at the palace two years previous. The palace setting was in the middle of a large complex of living quarters secretly built, in part, a couple years before the invasion by the Japanese.

Gardeners from the emperor’s palace in Japan had been sent to work the ground creating gardens to surround this Leyte palace with beauty and mystic. The whole compound was enclosed by a stone fence built by the many prisoners housed in the compound. The fence was two feet wide and eight feet tall, keeping everything except the top of the compound a mystery to those on the outside. The building had been constructed in such a way making observation by air of this palace virtually impossible which is why it had not yet been bombed by the Americans.

Conscripts like himself were held in a small area divided into two separate, but connected, compounds about one and a half miles away from the main palace. All three compounds were connected by inconspicuous paths and ravines. Enrique was in a remote compound closest to the palace with very few guards, and no other prisoners were ever present in this inner compound. There was only one way for vehicles to enter this part of the compound because of the steep banks of cliffs that surrounded his living quarters. The jungle was not thick at his location. On sunny days he could see the top of a mountain peak about fifteen miles or so away. The inner compound housed the guard barracks in one section, and servant quarters for those that worked in and around the palace in its upkeep.

The most guarded area was in the exterior ring where the manual slave labor working the tunnels and mines were housed. The palace had a main gate allowing access separately from having to go through the prison compounds in order to enter its grounds. This area was heavily guarded by at least a battalion of soldiers Enrique had observed, and anti-aircraft weapons and machine gun posts were kept hidden in well concealed bunkers outside and inside the front gates.

Enrique had been ushered to the inside gate of this impenetrable residence that December morning by a brawny guard who took great care to present himself as pompous and polished as a soldier. He was met at the gate of the innermost compound by the Prince himself. The guard bowed to the Prince then disappeared without saying a word.

Let us talk in the beauty of my garden, said Prince Chichibu in English. He was very careful to speak English each time he spoke with Enrique. He didn’t speak the languages of the Philippines except English, and he did not know that Enrique was becoming quite fluent in Japanese. Enrique really had no recourse but to acknowledge what the prince desired. The prince gave him a tour of the garden with its paths and flowering plants and trees.

Being a young student of art Enrique was overtaken by the grandeur and beauty of the garden, and relished his time spent there. It gave him a sense of peace and recognition that God was still with him in the midst of his turmoil and chaos that embroiled all around the South Pacific. As far as Enrique was concerned, however, nothing happened because he never heard any news of how the war was going. He longed to hear news from Mindanao regarding his family. Occasionally he would overhear the guards talking about the Americans. He was careful to act as if he did not know what they were saying.

The Prince, after a time, began to speak more freely and finally came to his purpose for their meeting. Enrique, I want you to create a masterpiece for me; using the best quality of gold and craftsmanship. I will give you the purest of gold to work with because I want this to be the best you have ever created. Enrique asked, What is it you desire? He then unfolded a paper with a depiction for Enrique of what he wanted him to create. The Prince wanted Enrique to craft a most exquisite piece of jeweled golden flowers for his brother, the Emperor of Japan. Enrique had crafted similar pieces in the past, but under the conditions he was given it would be a challenge. Prince Chichibu very sternly said, I want nothing less than the finest craftsmanship. There was no protest from Enrique. What could he have said except he would make it his finest work of art. He was given two weeks to present this special gift. All other duties he had would be suspended until this task was completed. As he left a servant handed him more than sufficient gold to use towards his creation.

Feeling very generous the Prince said, Enrique, whatever gold you do not need, use for creating something for you. That really sounded odd, Enrique thought. After all, he was in the middle of the jungle living alone in a prison camp. He continued in his thoughts, in that, thinking, Maybe for the first time in a year his mind was clicking once again in its old creative way that had made him the master craftsman he had come to be so young in his career. A rush of emotion and a strange joy overcame him as he bowed thanking the Prince for the opportunity.

Before he left the Prince handed him a finely crafted leather pouch containing several gems including diamonds, rubies, and emeralds of an untold value. The Prince wanted an inscription in Japanese inscribed on the piece he would create which he had written out on the rice paper. He then handed Enrique the detailed drawing. For the next two weeks Enrique remembered how he had dedicated himself to the task of creating a masterpiece and pouring his heart and soul into what he crafted. Recalling what his old master, Mr. Jon, the German missionary whom he could never pronounce his name, taught him well. The German would often say in his thick German accented English, Enrique, put your love and God’s love into each piece you create, and God will bless your efforts. He worked hard on that project because he selfishly really wanted that blessing!

Despite all that had happened and all the horror he carried within his memories, he prayed to God remembering the prayer he spoke on that day when he walked back to his residence, Dear Lord, you have shown me your mercy and you have allowed me this talent to use for such a time as this. Be glorified in what I do with this project. May it be pleasing in your sight. So be it!

Enrique declared those words many times as his rally cry. A renewed rush of creativity had surged through him in those days slowly healing his wounded soul. Humorously thinking back how he had erroneously believed that maybe that would be his ticket to freedom, he worked feverishly on the project. Enrique inaudibly committed those two weeks and his return visit to the palace compound to memory.

It was a bright sunny day. Enrique recollected the day he returned to the palace. He had put on his cleanest clothes, and he had wet his hair to make it look slick and somewhat more professional. As he ran a comb through his hair a final time, a guard informed him that his presence was requested at the palace. I’m ready, he told the guard. Enrique proudly and boldly walked the path to the palace carrying his prize following closely behind a guard detail. Shortly up the path he was surrounded by twenty soldiers who marched him to the front entrance of the palace.

He was allowed for the first time to enter into the living quarters of the Prince. Words could not describe his feelings even on this day as he reflected back. He was simply awed by the richness of the surroundings. From the outside one would not know what was found on the inside of that dwelling place. On the walls hung beautiful paintings, most assuredly stolen from the well to do families and treasures of countries the Japanese had pillaged including well known families in the Philippines. Many of the treasures Enrique knew were from such upper caste families, and he recognized one original oil painting in particular from an American family he had once visited while selling some of his works. He recognized it because of its distinctly western theme of an American cattle ranch remembering the comments he had made to the family at the time.

The carvings in the woodwork of the furniture were finely polished and intricate in their design. Greenery was spaced in just the right places consisting of Bonsai trees with some over 100 years old, the Prince told him. Even the vases sitting around on carved poles were of a quality he had rarely seen in his business life, which seemed so long before. Sitting beside the vase leading into the kitchen area was a piece he recognized as one that he had crafted for a couple in Manila just three years earlier just prior to his Manila trip. It was a very expensive two foot golden tree with limbs reaching out in several directions intended to hold scrolls containing family history and genealogy. It was also designed to hold a candle to give off a soft glow as it reflected off the gold. He loved that piece.

There were only seven of those ever created. He knew that because he was the one who had made them a lifetime ago. His stamp of authorship was clearly visible on the side of the piece. As he paused looking at his earlier creation, he felt a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Along the west wall was his greatest surprise. The wall had stacks of the gold ingots, most of which Enrique himself had smelted into bars. They climbed to the top of the ceiling as an interior three foot wall. They had his special stamp on them indicating they were his work. On the opposite side, the east wall, were windows, which let in the cascading morning sunlight. It literally filled the room with a gold aura.

It was out of this glow that he first saw the house keeper’s stunning beauty. He slowly turned to each area of the room observing gold objects of all types sitting around the main room; a fortune by any culture’s standard. But from where he stood, his thought was more on the girl he had seen than all the treasure in that room. He hoped it was not obvious where he had his attention. The prince walked into the room very quietly, without pretense. He entered not wearing his conventional uniform Enrique had seen him wear before. For this occasion Prince Chichibu had on a traditional Japanese kimono covered with silk and swirling designs.

Do you like what you see? Enrique awoke from his thoughts of love, not thinking the prince had seen him looking at the servant girl. Prince Chichibu seeing his interest, again repeated in English, Do you like what you see? I see that you have an eye for fine works of art. The Prince gestured his hands around the room. He had set his eyes, as well, on who was to be Enrique’s young bride. This is Kayusha Masako. She is my geisha, cook and housekeeper for this main residence compound when I come here to stay. Enrique, caught up in the moment answered humbly, I have not seen treasures like this before, especially all in one place. Prince Chichibu asked, Would you like to see the treasures up close?

With a twinkle in his eyes he proceeded to show Enrique around the room quite amused by the goldsmith’s smitten attitude regarding his geisha. The Prince graciously explained the various places some of his treasures had come, knowing full well that Enrique’s attention was not directed towards the treasures on the wall or around the room. He continued to speak to Enrique in English. His explanation was, he needed to practice with someone who knew the language so that he would be able to speak with the Americans when they were finally conquered. Enrique was half listening. He was glad he had taken special care that day before coming to the palace to put on the cleanest clothes and to have shaved and bathed. He felt somewhat giddy, almost forgetting why he was there in the palace.

The Prince had not forgotten as he said, Show me your treasure! Enrique uncovered the basket and presented the Prince with the intricacy of the gold and gem-laden fairly heavy piece he had crafted for the Emperor. Kayusha once again made her presence known as she set before them a pot of green tea. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was shy and kept her head bowed most of the time he was there, but the prince was aware of the instant attraction.

I like what I see? Don’t you? he humorously stated. Looking at the finished work he said, It is an amazing piece of craftsmanship. The Emperor will be very, very pleased. Enrique mumbled back, I like it too. The Prince began to laugh as he recognized a budding romance. Kayusha giggled. Blushing and covering her mouth she left out of sight. Maybe it can be arranged for me to see Kayusha sometime in the future? Enrique asked breaking the silence following Kayusha’s exit. Stay for lunch Enrique, the Prince said to him. It was the first time he had referred to him in a personal way. I’m quite sure that Kayusha will have no objections. Stay in the gardens for awhile afterward as a reward for your hard work. If Kayusha desires maybe she can accompany you in the garden. After lunch he walked in the garden with Kayusha as his host.

About mid afternoon he had said goodbye to the Prince and to Kayusha. Joyfully his heart swelled as he remembered those days of courtship. In less than two months the Prince consented for Kayusha to become Kayusha Masako Salazar Bocani, the young bride of Enrique Salazar Bocani. It was an unusual night in the prison camp as a few guards and the other servants from the palace were allowed to be present for the traditional Japanese wedding ceremony.

Standing beside him was Colonel Tokutomi Kowashi the officer who had first spared his life on the ship. They had become unyielding friends and had shared moments in private as brothers of the faith. Prince Chichibu performed the official avowal of marriage. Walking down the path leading to Enrique’s hut, Enrique searched the eyes of his new bride. Picking her up in his arms he carried her into their new home together. It was as if that day stood still in time as he remembered each detail of that joyous day. God used the bad to make good come from it.

"I hope and pray that someday I can give Kayusha a better home, he sighed not knowing that Kayusha heard him speak. Coming home from the palace, she lovingly smiled in his direction and answered in Japanese, Maybe someday."

You are so beautiful, he said as he embraced her lips. That night they spent the night in each other’s arms waking early in the morning to the familiar call to rouse the workers to the work of the compound. A short time later Kayusha headed down the path to the palace while Enrique headed for the fire pit to get it ready for smelting a fresh supply of gold. He watched Kayusha walk down the path until she was out of sight. A brief morning shower dripped from his face. The rain stopped as the sun rose high into the sky breaking through the bleakness of the early dawn. "Maybe there would be a future after the war." His spirits were brighter on that day.

CHAPTER 2

A Fateful Escape

J arred from his reflective daydream Enrique quickly returned to it as he acknowledged that, unbelievably, almost two years had passed since his marriage. As he reflected back to their short courtship and marriage that followed, his heart beat rapidly in response to the strong love he felt for his beautiful wife, Kayusha. One year ago on this day Enrique vividly recalled the birth of their little girl whom they had named Alaya Sakura, after his mother, followed by Kayusha’s middle name as was the tradition—Alaya Sakura Masako Bocani. It had a good sound to it even in these dark times, he proclaimed softly. Saying her name out loud warmed his soul.

I wish my parents could see their grandchild. They would be such doting grandparents, he chuckled as he spoke. An internal pain erased the goodwill welling inside. Intentionally, he had made it a point to tell his young bride everything he could remember about his family. Kayusha did not remember much about her family since she had been sold to a geisha house as a young child at age five. Why does life have to be so harsh, he cried out in torment to God in a sudden emotional outburst longing for the war to be over and the world to become right again.

During the first few months of Alaya’s life Enrique had crafted a small fortune and a special gift for his young bride and daughter. From the best of the gold left from the piece crafted for the Emperor,