A Very Odd Confluence of Events

As some of you might know, I'm a bit of a WWII buff, my father actually having to have fought the damn thing. Mixed in there is a history buff, a language buff, oh well, an everything buff.

Years ago I noticed that on eBay they were selling militaria . . . that's relics and souvenirs from past and present wars, not all quite kosher but apparently allowed. One item that caught my eye in particular was Japanese silk flags from World War II.

There was only one place from which these flags could have been obtained, and you guessed it: dead Japanese. Still, they were immensely popular as souvenirs because they were light as a feather and could be folded into a top pocket.

From the Japanese point of view, as explained to me by someone to whom I shall introduce you in due course, these flags were good luck charms, signed with good wishes from family and friends in Japan and sent to the soldier, most of whom knew they would never see him again.

I always thought it sad, extremely so, seeing these personal mementos stolen from a dead young man, bought and sold like scalps over the Internet. Yet some sold, and sell, for over $500, and the thing is, they should never be sold. It's like having your dead grandson's photograph of his young wife being traded as "memorabilia" after he'd been killed in some far-off battle, you never knowing the picture existed, yet it being pawed over by various "collectors" who couldn't give a shit.

So I decided I would actually buy one of these flags and try to get it back to the dead soldier's family. I'm not rich, so I bought one that was ripped up one side, certainly not in "pristine" condition, signed by many hands, and with bloodstains on it. It wasn't very expensive.

It was extremely poignant to look at this flap of silk and see the writings of people seventy-odd years ago, written for a person seventy-odd years dead. My Japanese is good, but there were too many names and formal expressions.

I put up a short ad in a local Japanese bulletin board/forum to see if anyone would translate it.

I got no answers until a couple of days ago, and it was from none other than the Japanese consulate, here in Montreal. Could they perhaps come photograph it, and send the photographs to researchers in Japan? Needless to say, I was delighted. I offered to send them the flag, but they insisted a certain protocol must be followed in these cases. I understood, and invited them over. I even volunteered to take the photos with my whiz-bang setup, but they insisted they go by the book.

So this afternoon a very nice young man named Masahiro Abe came by, regretting that he couldn't bring his colleague, due to complications from the earthquake in Japan. He was a genuinely nice guy. He took the pictures with a little help from my lighting, and we bantered a bit. We talked about the earthquake and I explained that my son was about 780 km away from any of the mess, plus in an elevated area.

"I sure hope no one you know is from Sendai," I added jokingly, knowing that the odds of him being from the epicenter of the tsunami were about 300 million to one.

"I was born and raised in Sendai . . . my parents are there. They are close to the shore. I am sure they will be under water. I have heard nothing from them."

Remember his name. I hope I won't be having to mention him again, except with the best news.

But there's something weird about this confluence of events . . .

Below is a section of the flag. The comments were written by the Nakasone and Sakurai families . . . likely the family of the soldier and the family of his wife. They say things like "Death is but the flutter of a cherry blossom to the ground." And "Do your utmost for the Emperor and our land."

Now I really have to find them.