This a quick short story about how Ken might react to the bombing of Pearl Harbour, and the event afterwards where Canada interned twenty-one thousand, Japanese Canadian out of fear of loyalty to japan. Many who were born in Canada, and were second or third-generation at this time.
In honour of Remembrance Day, wear your poppy proudly
Title comes from Wilfred Owen—Dulce et Decorum
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight
"They bombed Pearl harbour," Kenneth Ford said in disbelief at the Kitchen Table.
"Pardon?" Rilla Ford says turning around from where she was stirring a pot of soup.
"The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour, Hawaii," Ken repeats himself.
"Why does it feel like this war is never going to end?" His wife frowns.
"Because it's about to get a whole lot worse," Ken tells her sighing. "I need to tell the Tanaka's. This cannot go over well," he says getting up.
"But they are Canadian? And Dinner is almost ready." She tells him to protest.
"Does that ever matter? Look at the Italians Rilla. How do we treat those Canadians? The Japanese here will have no chance in hell now that they attacked the states. I'll just run across the street I won't be long. I'll be back before the children even make it downstairs." He tells her grabbing his jacket from the hook.
Children, their first child had been made in the foreign land he loved. Guinevere, a beauty like her mother. At twenty she was dealing with heartbreak and war in ways he never thought she would have to. Living with the consequences of her actions made her, even more, recluse these days. She had her head in the clouds most of the time, not caring for school or much of anything else.
Lydia was next, born three years after her sisters, graduating high school with honours and thinking about college. She inherited her father's dark hair and grey eyes but had her grandfather's brains. She had all the spunk and opinions about the war that made both of them shutter.
Daisy was fifteen, with the world at her fingertips, wanting, wishing, for something to happen. She wanted adventure, she wanted more than what the world could give her in these years of war. In many ways, she reminded him of Rilla, long before love blossomed in his heart.
Last was Charity who was eleven, a solemn eleven who didn't want to grow up. Who lived to read Peter Pan, wanting to escape the inevitable transition from girl to woman. In many ways, he wanted to keep her young as well.
He hated this war as much as the rest of Canada, but this felt even more personal. Their neighbours were Japanese, they had dinner parties and the ladies dressed in vibrant kimonos and drank tea as they did back in Kyoto.
The Tanaka's already knew, of course, frightened by what might come from this attack. Japan wasn't like this, not their Japan. No, this all came from someone with greed for power and wanting to join in on the ruin of the world.
How could such a world be tarnished by greed?
He thinks of the fields and the nights in the onsen. Showing the girls the countryside and walking around Shrines and temples. Showing them how to respect and observe different cultures.
It all felt tainted by the bloodshed.
There is no shock when the decrees are laid out. It was grotesque and inhuman in his mind, watching his friends be torn apart, their things sold or stored away unknowing if they would ever see them again.
He keeps their family albums and heirlooms, tucked away in the basement. Watching his wife hide away all the pretty souvenirs that she had collected, along with her silk robes. Even though he tells her she doesn't need to.
Four daughters, while he is too old for combat( not that he ever wants to see war ever again). Yet the telephone rings, and he answers it to make himself useful. He finds himself in a new uniform, and his wife looking at him strangely when he leaves the house for the first time in it. Still, there are piano lessons, school work and socks to be mended. Lydia gets a job in a department store and Guinn cries herself to sleep even more than not these days. Daisy is in girl guides and Charity sweet as she is fighting herself against the world.
He stops reading the newspaper, he can't stand the propaganda. Hadn't they just been planning a trip for their 25th wedding anniversary?
"Why do you feel for the Japanese civilians, but not the Germans?" The youngest asks him one afternoon.
"Well, for one we are not punishing innocent German families?" He tells his daughter, before looking towards his wife, who looks back at him.
"But why Daddy there has to be more than that?"
"I guess because I have lived there? I knew their culture, their beliefs, their ways of life, your Mother and I went on our honeymoon there all those years ago."
"It was not that many," his wife scoffs under her breath and he looks over at her with a look. One that softened to love and memories of those nights. His wife blushes and shakes her head.
"That still doesn't explain why?" Charity asks him. How does one explain that in his head it came down to that they were not like them?
"Of course, I have empathy for the Germans who are merely trying to stay alive as well Charity. I do not believe anyone innocent should lose their life or lively hood in the middle of a war. I do not believe it is fair that one race is targeted and punished for its birth. I have more empathy for the innocent Canadians who happen to be born of Japanese blood because they are the ones that we are punishing when they have done nothing wrong. Why are we rounding up one group, and not the other? They are not our enemy, their government might be, but our Japanese Canadians are not,—the regular Japanese people are not."
"Daddy can you sign this," Lydia comes flying into the room tossing him some papers and handing him a pen. Edging him to sign it quickly.
"Hold your horses Lyddie," he says taking a moment to examine the papers.
"Dad, it's just school stuff," She tells him and when he gives her a look that said don't push me she sighs and takes a step back.
"So your school is trying to get young ladies to join the Women's Royal Navy service?" Ken looks at his daughter.
"It's just cadets!"
"I don't want you involved Lydia, and neither does your mother." He looks at his wife. "We have lived through wartime, I have been to war, I fought in a war, praying to come back to your mother. I have never been more thankful for a lot of girls who could not fight!"
"Oh sure, I can't do what I want, but you'll support Quinn through her out-of-wedlock pregnancy! He's dead, she doesn't even work and leaves mom to look after the brat and you still just let her sulk in her room."
"That is enough," Ken's voice raises.
"I can't wait to have babies. I like playing with Franklin," Charity chirps.
"You can wait a long while missy," Ken tells his youngest with a shudder. They had long talks with Lydia and Daisy about babies, and sex when Quinn began to show. He would happily place any of them in a convent to never have to worry about such things again "Where is your sister?"
"She went out for a walk," Daisy says coming down from upstairs. "Pram and all believe it or not, also Mom, Japan is attacking, and my belt broke."
"Don't say things like that Daisy," Ken barks at his youngest. "It's awfully rude and unkind."
"Your father is right, and I have a spare in my vanity, you can take it. I'll buy a few more later today when I run to the drugstore." Rilla tells her daughter.
"I never want to get my period," Charity says under her breath.
"Well, you're a few years off from that," Rilla tells her daughter and ruffles the top of her dark auburn hair. "So enjoy it while it lasts."
"Do you need money?" Ken asks going for his wallet. All his child heads turn and look hopefully "Your mother girls, you already have had your allowance for the week," he fends them off.
"I think I have enough in my handbag," Rilla shakes her head as he already peeling a five-dollar bill from the pile and handing it to her. "Thank you." She says kissing him.
"I got a job," A voice says as the back door opens.
"Pardon?" Ken turns to his eldest, he gets up and takes the toddler from her. "You got a job?"
"At the factory, they were hiring girls and I got a job,"
"And pray to tell us who is going to watch Franklin?" Rilla looks at her daughter. "Also aren't they extremely picky about the sorts of girls who work in factories."
"Well, I was wearing my engagement ring, and I think they thought I was married when I explained that Franklin died in the war. There's a daycare on site so Frankie can come with me," Quinn tells him.
Rilla looks over at him, rather in shock that her daughter who had been sullen for two years was actively looking for something to do. Ken sends her a silent message back.
"Well then, that is good news then. It will help your mother and me with the rising costs of supporting the two of you." Ken tells her, meaning that if she is working she will be contributing to the household.
Quinn looks at him shocked for a moment, but seeing he father's passionless face she knew she could not whine. She was lucky enough to have them, as the Franklins family has done nothing but refuse to acknowledge their son had a son.
"Do you think if I write Saeka that she would be able to write me back?" Charity asks breaking the awkwardness, to only create a new awkwardness.
"We can always try," Rilla tells her not wanting to dash her daughter's hope for her friend. "I think Nadeshiko said where there were going?" She looks over to Ken who shakes his head above his daughter.
It just wasn't fair, he thinks as he heads out to the back porch. Lighting a cigarette and inhaling it deeply as he remembers.
The fields he ran through, the school he went to and his friends. Watching his mother pour tea and Persis twirl in her yukata on festival nights. He can still smell the scent of the rice friends and ponds, it's ingrained in his memories. Like the scent of sulphuric onsens, and the beauty of his bride who sat on the futon waiting for him.
The cool autumn evenings and the changing of the leaves, the delicate scent of cherry blossoms they had seen last time. The photos that graced the mantle and walls, the ladies dress in silk robes picnicking in the sunlight. The white blossoms floated around them. The coloured photos so the vibrant silk patterns stand out among the green grass and blue skies. He would pay it a thousand times over to have those vivid memories captured once more, to be a reality once more.
His childhood, his honeymoon, and vacations were all set in that place of wonder for him. He wanted to take his grandchildren there one day if he could. Instead, he watched and read about the terrors that changed everything for him.
He feels the arms of his wife wrapping around him, resting her head on his back. Trying to comfort him, trying to tell him that he wasn't alone. That he wasn't the only one watching friends disappear. He grips her hands with his free one and squeezes it, the door opens again and the sound of multiple footsteps and soon arms and various heights surround him. Quinn was next to her mother, and Lydia was to his right with her dark hair. Daisy with her copper that she got from her grandmother the smallest wiggled in front of him, head on his chest. How long ago was it that they were all babies who slept on his chest as he lay on the couch?
"It will be okay," Rilla whispers to him.
If she only knew…if they only knew things would only get worse as the years went on. That on a August 6th and 9th that disaster would fall and destroy so many innocent lives. That it would take years for anyone born of Japanese descent to gain their lives back.