All around him, the battle rages. The sound of explosions surround him, ringing in his ears. He has great difficulty sorting out the chaos; the battle is distorting his perception. Suddenly, the air is split by a blood-curdling scream. He turns just in time to watch in horror as his precious Rosalie falls to the ground. He struggles to reach his beloved, to rescue her, though deep inside he knows he is too late. There is suddenly a very acute pain in his abdomen, but he must ignore it, must reach rosalie. He falls painfully to his knees and cries out in anguish as his vision begins to cloud. Before his world goes black, Isaac has one final thought. This isn't a war, it's a slaughter.
Isaac awakes, screaming from his nightmare. His bedsheets restrain him, trap him. He struggles to disentangle himself, finally succeeding in his escape from his wretched, empty bed. His heart beating rampantly, his breathing ragged, and his mind panicked, Isaac brings his knees up to his chin and wraps his arms around them. He closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the images which flood his min. His efforts are wasted and the images are only more vivid. His memories are torturing him, explosions echoing within his mind. Isaac rests his head on his knees and sobs, heart-rendering, gut-wrenching sobs.
It's been almost six months since that miserable battle. Isaac laughs humorlessly to himself. Some battle. It was more or less an exterminations, unjust punishment for a just crime. Hundreds of troops stormed the hidden underground city, killing, no, destroying every person they came in contact with, including women and children. Isaac's sobs intensified as he unwillingly recalled the massacre discovered at the education facility. Innocent children punished for the so-called sins of their parents.
Thousands of people had died, because they had refuted the rule of their almighty dictator. Isaac willed himself not to think of her, not to think of his beloved. Yet, the more he struggled not to think of Rosalie, the more insistent she became upon his memory, forcing him to remember her. The tears sprung anew.
Eventually, as the dawn began to light the Eastern skies, Isaac picked himself up off the floor and forced himself to begin his daily routine. He stared at himself, long and hard, in the mirror as he ran the shower. The heated shower steam fogging the mirror. It wasn't his fault, Isaac knows that. Yet, sometimes he can't help, but wonder what would have happened if they had left her alone. What if they hadn't kidnapped her in an attempt to make her father suffer? Would she still be alive? What if they had never fallen in love?
As he steps into the hot stream of water, Isaac sights. The steaming water washes over him, as if to cleanse away the pain. He remembers the day of her memorial, the rain had fallen hard and fast, as if the sky also mourned her loss. It was as if Mother Nature herself was attempting to punish the Earth for the atrocious crime that had been committed by pouring buckets of steaming acid upon it, scalding her surface. Scarring her appearance in much the same way that its history had been. The world was forever blemished.
Isaac recalled one senile woman in particular attempting to comfort him. "Remember, Dearie, her death wasn't in vain. The Good Lord has a plan." Isaac had nodded in agreement at the time, knowing it was the truth. Rosalie's death was the reason the elderly woman was now allowed to say such things as "the Good Lord." Rosalie's death had ended the war, as well as the dictator. The gruff man was unable to cope with the knowledge that he had been responsible for the death of his only daughter.
Isaac finished his routine and stepped out into the bright daylight. A breeze blew softly by and Isaac was sure he heard the light tinkling of Rosalie's laughter. He smiled slightly to himself. The world had been blemished along with his memory. Though his memory was beautifully blemished. Isaac was thankful that Rosalie had at least left him forever blemished.

- Hannah Jo 2008

Labels: blemished, death, fiction, forever, Isaac, love, Rosalie, story, war

When the United States Armed Forces sent recruiters to the war camps, they were recieved with varying responses. The men of draft age had to choose whether or not to assist a country who had betrayed them. The men of the camps were split into two groups: the “no-no” men and those who chose to volunteer.
If Yoshiko Uchida had been eligible for the draft and was required to answer questions twenty-seven and twenty-eight, I believe she would have been torn. She would have wanted to stand up for her own rights and liberties, refusing to fight for a country who had denied her all freedoms. However, I believe that the opportunity to leave Topaz would also prove desirable. She also felt loyal the United States no matter how contemptuous it felt towards her. Yoshiko, like many Nisei, had no other country.
Question twenty-eight, “Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese Emperor, or any other foreign government power or organzation?”, was a racist question that would have offended Yoshiko and many other Japanese Americans. They had lived in the United States for the majority of their lives, many having never left American soil. The question implies that all Japanese Americans supported the Japanese Emperor and his actions against the United States, that they were all traitors to their country. One can infer from the question that the Armed Forces did not view the Japanese Americans as true Americans, another insult to many of the Japanese Americans who had always viewed themselves as such.
Question twenty-seven, “Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered?”, was considered a very loaded question as well. Refusing to answer yes implied that you were a traitor, however answering yes would lead to even more racist behavior. The Armed Forces spoke of forming an all Japanese American combat team, stating that this would allow the entire country to view their loyalty, making them more visible than if they were dispersed among other battalions. The Japanese Americans worried, however, that doing so would only lead to more racist behavior. Their was the possibility that they were more likely to be sent into combat first, that their gear may not be in the best condition, and the Issei feared going into combat against their home country, Japan.
I believe the Nisei men should have refused to serve. It is the duty of American citizens to serve their country, however at the time they were not counted among the citizens. They were denied all basic rights guaranteed to all American citizens. If rights are revoked without reason, then the need to do ones patriotic duty is also revoked.
It could be argued that they the Japanese Americans would soon have their freedom and rights back due to President Roosevelt’s statement. However, President Roosevelt made no mention of the restoration of civil liberties. He spoke only of “the democratic right to exercise the responsibilites of his citizenship.” The Japanese Americans were only allowed the right to serve in the war, not only being waged overseas, but in the United States against the country’s own citizens. I believe many Japanese Americans would have found it upsetting and foolish of the United States government to expect the people it had demonized to serve in the war that was being fought partially against them. They were not to be rewarded any other rights nor liberties. They were only allowed to sacrifice themselves to a country who did not consider the Japanese Americans as part of their citizenship.

2474 / 5000 words. 49% done!

Labels: Americans, Desert, Exile, history, Japanese, paper, war, WWII

Chapter One:
The wind blew across the Zubair desert of Southern Iraq, stirring the dust, making it difficult to view the opposition. Major Johnson peered across the barren land that stretched for miles, his guard raised. His guard was always high; one doesn’t become a Major of the Army by being caught unaware. The convoy moved at an almost unbearably slow pace.
“S-sir.” A young man, a private, said from somewhere to his right.
“Yes?” Major Johnson replied, his eyes never halting their constant surveying of the landscape.
“What… What’s that?” Major Johnson turned towards the private, his eyes scanning to where the young man was pointing. Two or three suspicious looking men were crouched behind a dune, unaware that they’d been spotted.
“Prepare to fight, men.” Major Johnson ordered the soldiers in his convoy, the word quickly spreading among the ranks. “It’s an ambush.” The words no sooner left his lips than the suspected enemy attacked. Two dozen men swarmed the convoy, firing their weapons. The soldiers quickly reacted, moving into the defensive. Aiming towards the enemy, shooting to kill.
The enemy fell around them, fairly easy to take out. Bullets were flying through the air, whistling past the men. Major Johnson threw a grenade towards a cluster of the adversary when he felt a tremendous pain rip through his chest, felt as though his body was shattering into a thousand pieces. He continued to fire his M-16 towards the enemy, hoping to cause the maximum amount of damage, even as his vision began to cloud. He felt himself sink to the ground as his men continued to battle the insurgents, his weapon fell from his grasp. His body hit the ground as the world went black.
~ * ~
Dave Johnson wearily opens his eyes, blinded by a bright, white light. He blinks against the offending brightness, his eyes adjusting slowly. “He… hello?” He rasps.
“Ah, you’re awake.” A melodic voice floats through the air towards where he is lying. The carrier of the voice approaches him. “You had us scared there for awhile.” The beautiful voice tinkles. She’s next to him now, and she’s more beautiful than her voice makes her sound.
He’s died. Dave’s sure he’s dead, no human woman could ever be this beautiful. She leans over him, checking his vitals. Her dark, brown hair is falling out of her military-style bun, curling around her ears towards her neck, her long, graceful neck. She’s gazing at him now with those eyes, those vibrant, green eyes. Her lips are in a thin line, though he’s sure they’re usually red and full and her face is flushed red, as though she’s been very active or harried.
“How are you feeling.?” She asks him, breaking him out of his reverie.
“Umm… umm… fine, Ma’am.” he replies. “Just fine.” Dave attempts to sit up, wincing. “Arg!”
“Or not so much.” The angel remarks, helping the Major to lie down once more while causing the least amount of damage to his wound. “You should probably relax, Major Johnson, before you hurt yourself even more, especially since it appears you’ll be visiting us for awhile.”
“Where is here? And what is your name, Ma’am? It only seems fair, seeing as you already know mine.”
The angel smirked. “So original, Major.” She adjusted a knob on the equipment near his bedside. “You are at Al Asad Airbase, specifically the military hospital. You’re being treated for wounds you attained battling when your company was ambushed by a remaining group of Saddamists.” Dave let in a sharp intake of breath, anxious tension coursing through his body. He attempted to sit up, hissing when his body was forced once again to succumb to the pain inflicted upon it. “Don’t worry.” She assisted in resituating him to the least painful position available. “You were the only one seriously injured. No casualties. Just a few bumps and scrapes.” The Major let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “As for my name, it’s Bond. Jane Bond.”
Dave snorted and coughed, attempting not to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not. My parents twisted idea of a joke. They thought they were being clever.”
“Ah, well, it’s a very pretty name. I like it.”
“And you, Dear Sir, are a bad liar.”
“No Ma’am. I like it. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet and all that.”
“Ah, so you like me in spite of my name.”
“Yes, I mean no, I mean…” Jane laughed at him.
- ~ * ~ -



Chapter Two:
Days passed and time flew. Before the Major Dave Johnson had realized it, he’d been in that Al Asad hospital for three weeks. He honestly hadn’t known time was going by so swiftly. He was enjoying Nurse Jane’s company more and more each day, and he dreaded the day when they’d have to part.
~ * ~
Jane Bond knew she shouldn’t get attached, knew he’d be leaving. However, she found herself unable to remain unattached to the handsome Major. His piercing grey-blue eyes seemed to be able to pierce her very soul, always able to see through her. His dark hair, which had been an inch long when he’d arrived, had started to grow and was curling cutely around his ears. His goofy grin and witty sense of humor were always able to make her smile, despite the day she may have been having.
She knew it would hurt. She knew that when he left, she’d be left destroyed. That’s what had happened the last time. She had treated a young lieutenant once, years ago, when this war had barely started. He had been sweet, caring, and handsome. He had also used her, making her love him, forgetting to mention that he had a wife and two children back in the states, including a baby girl he had never met before. Jane had been heartbroken and virtually destroyed. She had been lied to and worst of all, she’d willingly allowed him to use her, letting herself be strung along until he left. Only then did he mention his family. Jane had never felt more ashamed in her life.
~*~
“And how are we feeling today, Major?” Jane asked upon entering his area.
“Fine and Dandy” Dave always replied, no matter how he truly felt. Jane nodded, as always, before administer his medications. The sound system throughout the hospital was playing a slow, steady tune. “May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?”
“You, sir, are in no condition to dance.” Jane replied, touching the tip of her finger to his nose.
“That’s not a no, though. What about when I’m well? Will you dance with me then?”
“We’ll see.” Jane prepared to leave, she knew she couldn’t stay, let herself get any more attached to the handsome, young man in the bed before her.
“Wait. Don’t go.” Dave said to her retreating back. Jane stopped. “Come, sit, let’s talk for awhile.” Jane turned her head slightly, so as to be able to look over her shoulder. “Please?”
Jane sighed and returned to his side, settling herself in the cold, metal folding chair beside his bed. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”
“You. I know so very little about you. I’d like to know more.”
“You’re not supposed to know a lot about me.”
“But I’d like to.”
“Alright, I’m 29. I’m from Topeka, Kansas, but I’m a Baltimore Ravens fan. Can’t stand the Chiefs, never could. I majored in nursing, because I wanted to help people. I became a military nurse, because, well, I was raised military. My dad was a Lieutenant Colonel, so we traveled a lot. I still keep in touch with most of the friends I made around the world. I also write. Oh, and my favorite type of ice cream is peach.”
“Hmm… interesting. Go on.” Jane glowered at Dave, causing him to laugh. “Come on, Love, I’m curious.”
“What did you call me?” Jane asked, startled.
“Er… Love. Is that a problem?”
Jane could feel herself blushing. “No… no. Not at all. Just surprised me as all.”
“Oh. Okay.” An Awkward silence descended upon the pair. After a few moments, Dave spoke up. “Hey, hey Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Can you come a bit closer for a sec.”
“Sure. Is something wrong?”
“Well, you see… if you can just lean forward for a moment.”
Jane leaned forward so that her face was mere inches away from Dave’s. “Yes.”
“Look at me.” Jane looked to Dave’s face, her eyes meeting his mesmerizing gaze. His lips descended upon hers, kissing her. His lips were soft and gentle against hers. She found herself kissing him in return, moving her lips in rhythm to his. They broke apart, still gazing at one another. “Wow.” Dave said, after a moment. “That was amazing.”
“Yes.” Jane agreed, attempting to catch her breath. Jane suddenly leaned back, realizing what had just happened, what she had allowed, what she had done, enjoyed. “I… I…”
“Are you okay?” Dave asked, looking worriedly at Jane.
“I… I’ve gotta go.” Jane quickly stood and practically ran from the area to the staff quarters.
“Jane. Jane? Jane!” Dave called toward her retreating form, hoping she would turn, let him explain. “Great, Dave, you’ve sure messed this up.” He whispered quietly to himself, throwing his head down onto the pillow.
~*~
Once Jane was safe in her quarters, she let the tears begin to fall. How could she have let this happen? It wasn’t suppose to happen, not again. She couldn’t let herself get hurt again.
She crawled into her bed and beneath the blankets fully clothed. She needed to think, to clear her head. She was falling in love with him, Major Dave Johnson. She cringed at the thought; she’d made herself vulnerable again.
~*~

Labels: assignment, english, Iraq, love, novel, romance, soldier, war, warfare, Zubair

Never Coming Home

The sun had been brilliantly shining in the clear blue sky. She had lovingly packed his favorite meal in the wicker picnic basket. She was determined to make this day a day to remember. This day had been planned for quite sometime; no effort had been spared. She smiled happily to her reflection in the mirror as she dressed in his favorite sundress and curled her hair, primping to perfection.
The journey had been a pleasant one. She had skipped happily to their private meeting place, looking forward to seeing his face once more. He was finally home again, on leave for three months, after eighteen overseas. A joyful shriek escaped her lips as she spotted him on top of their hill, leaning against the tree scarred with their initials. He turned to flash his dazzling smile at her. She dropped the basket as she flung herself towards him. She landed happily in his outstretched arms, each clinging to the other as though letting go would cause their beloved to disappear. Her misty eyes never left his as he spread out the soft, checkered blanket before lifting her into his strong arms before gently placing her on it.
The reunited couple kissed tenderly as dark cloud arose on the horizon. She gasped as he disappeared from her arms. The torrential rain began to fall as an anguished cry poured from her rosy lips. She began to cry, her tears mixing with those falling from the sky. Twenty years had passed and still he hadn’t returned from the war, returned to her. The harsh realization always ripped at her heart. He was never coming home.

Labels: coming, death, home, joy, lost, love, military, never, reunion, sorrow, storm, war, WWII

Guerrilla Warfare

My mind’s being torn apart
Ripped to pieces
Destroyed
By you

Terrorized
By you

I’m forever traumatized
By your guerilla tactics

The battle takes place in my mind
Unseen
By your prying eyes

Screams of terror
Unheard
By your deafened ears

Confusion filling my head
Caused by the guerrilla warfare
Brought on by your cruelty

I’m fighting it off
Or trying
Kicking and screaming
Resisting you
Clinging
hopelessly
To my last shred of sanity.

Labels: battle, destroy, fight, guerrilla, poetry, sanity, terror, war, warfare, writing