Jinora Samten
76 Temple Cres.
Boston, MA 61729
29 May 1966
Dear Jinora,
I don't know how much I'm allowed to say in this thing, so some of it might be censored. Just fair warning.
That said, Fort Irwin isn't as bad as I thought it would be. We train all day. We eat. We sleep. The rooms are crowded and it's really hot in the desert, but I'm surviving. I've met some people, too—there are two guys in my barrack, Mako and Bolin Harada. They're brothers from Japan who enlisted together. Mako's 25, Bolin's 22. Can you believe this—they survived Hiroshima. They were only 4 and 1 at the time. Bolin doesn't remember much of it 'cause he was too young, but Mako can, and he says that it was the scariest thing he'd ever been through. When I found out, I couldn't help wondering how they could stand to move here to the U.S. after what we put them through. Apparently it wasn't exactly their choice, their mom immigrated here and took them with her. Their dad died in the bombing. They said that they got used to it here, and can't imagine going back to Japan now. I haven't asked them if they feel any kind of hate towards the States at all. I feel like it would be insensitive.
I kind of told them about you, and showed them your picture. Bolin says to tell you he thinks you're super pretty and that I'm really lucky. Whatever that means.
Other than Mako and Bolin, the person I like the most is our commanding officer. And get this—he has your last name. Commander Bumi Samten. I don't know if it's a common last name, but do you know him at all? Is he related to you? That would be cool. He's a pretty funny guy when he's not yelling drills at us. He tells us all these crazy war stories that feel made up, but somehow… also don't? Does that even make sense? I don't think so. Whatever. But yeah. He's cool. He and one of the military nurses, Lt. Beifong, have a kind of rivalry going. I say kind of because Samten seems to care way more about it than Beifong does. She's ice-cold. She's the kind of lady that seems like she should be the one yelling orders at us. And sometimes she does. But women don't get commanding positions, at least not around here. It's not cool, but it's not something that can change overnight.
But enough about me. I miss you. A lot. And okay, that was kind of still about me. But I do. I wish I was back home. How's good old Republic Roadhouse? Is Principal Unalaq still a skuzz? Sorry if you like him, but man, I hate that guy. Are you still in the marching band? I hope so. You're the best piccolo player they've had, and that's saying something, because the piccolo sucks . And I can say that, I've played it. Junior high. Worst decision I ever made. But you're really good, so I guess it has more to do with talent. Or more to do with you. Whichever.
So, yeah. I miss you. There's that.
I have to go, but I hope you'll write back soon.
Yours,
Kai
Kai Huang
The National Training Center
Fort Irwin, CA 92310
14 June 1966
Dear Kai,
Looks like your letter was completely by the book—no censorship that I could see. I'm so proud.
As a matter of fact, I do know Bumi—he's my uncle! I completely forgot that he was in Fort Irwin, or I would have told you sooner! How cool is that? He does tell the craziest war stories. As far as I know, none have been proven, but at the same time, none have been disproven. I guess we'll never know. Tell him hello for me, will you? I haven't seen him in so long.
I'm glad training isn't awful, and I'm glad you're making friends. Mako and Bolin seem wonderful. I can't imagine living through a disaster like that, they must have been so brave. Also, tell Bolin thank you for the compliment, it was very much appreciated.
On the subject of Principal Unalaq, you don't have to worry about me not liking him—everyone hates Principal Unalaq, especially me. Fun fact: he's actually related to my boss. You remember Korra's , the café where we met? Well, Korra herself is Unalaq's niece. She's way cooler than he is, though. She's a single mom and runs a kickass coffee shop pretty much all by herself. She's my idol. Not that I'm planning to get pregnant anytime soon.
I can also confirm that yes, I'm still in the marching band. I was actually about to quit after this year, but I don't know. I might reconsider. I had no idea that you even noticed me back then. I've played the flute since junior high, piccolo is my secondary instrument. I really just love music. I'm hoping to make it into the school's orchestra next year. I don't know how I'm going to be able to balance that and marching band, but what doesn't kill you, right? And besides. It's doing something I love, which is always a bonus.
Speaking of music, I'd love to know some of your favourites. What did you listen to back home? Are you able to listen to music in Fort Irwin? I'm not saying I'd compile a list and make a mixtape, but I'm also not saying I wouldn't do that. Just saying.
I miss you, too. A lot. So there's that.
Write soon,
Jinora
June 23, 1966
"Jinora?"
She'd expected it, but she was still groggy as she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. "Ikki? What is it?"
Her younger sister was standing in her bedroom doorway, shifting from foot to foot and wringing her hands. "I had the nightmare again," she murmured.
Jinora smiled softly, scooching over and patting the bed beside her. "C'mere, doofus."
Ikki scampered over and lay down, curling into her sister's side. Jinora wrapped an arm around her, stroking her hair. She'd always been a little jealous of her sister's hair, all long and black and beautiful. Jinora kept her hair short by choice, but sometimes she wondered how it would feel to grow it out.
Ikki's trips to her bedroom in the middle of the night had become a regular occurence over the past four years. The nightmares didn't come as often as they used to, but she was still scared. In a way, they all were.
"There's no atom bomb," Jinora whispered. "It's okay. You're safe."
"But… but what if there is?" Ikki's small voice trembled. "What if… what if it happens again?"
It. Of course. It was behind everything these days. What if it happens again. What if it ends differently.
"Hey," she murmured. "It was four years ago. It's behind us now."
"The world was about to end, Jinora." Ikki's voice broke.
Jinora's throat clenched. "I know," she said quietly. "I know."
October twenty-second, 1962. The date was burned in Jinora's memory, and would be for life. She could still remember the president's speech, blaring from every television in every household in the city, in the country.
"It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union."
War.
Nuclear war.
It wasn't an all-out declaration, but it might as well have been. They had blockaded Cuba, put their missiles on high alert. The world held its breath.
Jinora had been twelve years old. Ikki had just barely turned ten. Meelo and Rohan had been six and not-yet-one, too young to even comprehend what was happening. No one would tell them.
No one would tell them that their short lives would likely be over within the week.
On the twenty-third, the Soviets responded. The missiles were there to defend Cuba. The missiles would not leave Cuba. That night, Ikki had the first of the nightmares. They kept coming.
On the twenty-fourth, Soviet warships headed for Cuba. Tenzin made the family move their things into the secret basement. He went to the grocery store for provisions and came back with scratches on his face. He wouldn't tell them how he got them.
On the twenty-sixth, school was let out early. There was no point, and everyone knew it. The Soviets were still building, and they wouldn't stop.
On the twenty-seventh, an American pilot was shot down over Cuban soil. Jinora wondered, for the first and only time in her life, if it would be better to end it now rather than wait for the world to end her.
On the twenty-eighth, it was all over. The Soviets agreed to remove the missiles. The U.S. agreed not to invade. It was the first time Jinora had ever seen her father cry.
On October 29, 1962, Jinora turned thirteen years old.
"It won't happen again," she whispered to her sister now, as Ikki's breathing began to even out. "I promise. It'll never happen again."
But she could barely believe herself.
Jinora Samten
76 Temple Cres.
Boston, MA 61729
2 July 1966
Dear Jinora,
Thank God you hate Unalaq too. I was worried I was the only one. I guess everyone's good at hiding it. Her niece seems cool though. Remind me to meet her if[crossed out] when I get home.
I can't believe Commander Samten is your uncle . That's insane! I told him I've been writing to you, and he told me to tell you hi back, and to tell your dad to "watch out for flying bisons." I have no idea what he means. Must be an inside joke or something. Can bisons even fly? I don't even know what one looks like.
I'm so, so glad you asked about music. Holy shit, do I have a list for you. Course, I can't give it all away yet. (Can't have you getting tired of me already, haha.) I'll give you three a letter, and you can give me three in your next letter.
I'll Never Find Another You - The Seekers
I'll Follow The Sun - The Beatles
Bring It On Home to Me - Sam Cooke
I think you'll like these. We can't really listen to music here, which blows, but these are a few of my favourites, and I dunno. They remind me of you a bit.
Glad you're still playing piccolo. The orchestra would be lucky to have you. I remember that piece they played at the year-end assembly last year, it was really nice. Was it Mozart? I'm just assuming. He's the only composer I know. Wait-and Betov[crossed out] Beth[crossed out] Beetove[crossed out] Beethoven. That was embarrassing. Ignore that.
Training's getting more intense. They've got us doing drills every hour on the hour. We're in training for six months, and then we're shipping off to Vietnam. We've got four months left in Fort Irwin. Mako, Bolin and I made a pact. The three of us are gonna look out for each other, whatever happens over there. If I'm being honest (and I really do feel like I can be honest with you, which is nice), I'm a bit scared. A lot scared. You know, you hear things, and it's really bad over there. You make one mistake, drop your guard for one second, and there's a bullet in your head and you're gone. For good. Just like that. And if you survive, you're not the same. Some part of you is gone.
I can't promise I'll survive this, Jinora. But I promise that if I do survive, I'll keep as many parts of me as I can. The important ones. Like the part of me that cares about you. And misses you. A lot.
Best of luck with the mixtape. Can't wait to listen to it.
Yours,
Kai
P.S. Bolin says "you're welcome".