叔父の出征当日で憶えているのは、直方駅の一番ホームか、群集の匂いでいやにむんむんしていたことだけである。まっ赤な日の丸のまわりの白い空間に墨で寄せ書きされた日章旗が振られ、兵隊服を着た叔父は職場の同僚たちに止めどもなく胴上げされていた。

祖母や祖父と並んで、矢絣の着物を着た母の手につかまりながら、私はそれをぼんやりと見ていた。ホームを通る人が驚いたように立ち止るときだけ、その選ばれた人が自分につながっている誇らしさを示すために、宙に上げられた叔父を見、立ち止った通行人を見た。

日本の軍服を着ている健市叔父(中)と戦友
『十二の遠景』より
高橋睦郎著

最も鮮烈に憶えているのは、叔父か門司から、戦地に飛び立つ飛行場のある新潟へ出発するのを見送りに行った折のことである。筑豊線の直方から、折尾を経由して鹿児島本線の出発点である門司までは二時間半かかり、午前九時に発つ人を門司で見送るには、五時すぎには直方を出なければならなかった。

私は生れてはじめて、暗いうちに起こされた。たぶん駅までは母や祖母たちになだめすかされて行ったのだろう。直方駅のホームで、寝ぼけまなこをこすりこすり見た、ホームの向うの御館山の真上の空の夜明けのさまを、私はくっきりと思い出すことかできる。

夜のまっ暗い空はぴくりと痙攣し、急に薄皮を剥(む)いたょうにぜんたいか明るくなっている。再び痙攣する。さらに明るくなる。三たび痙攣する。いっそう明るくなる。こうして、空はいつかしらじらと明けてくる。私か生れてはじめて見た夜明けの詳細は、こんなふうだった。

門司で汽車を降りて、私たち一行、祖母と祖父、母と私、それに一時叔父の花嫁に擬せられていた親戚のフキエさんという若い女性は、町の人に道を聞き聞き、黄金町という住宅街の、叔父の泊っている民家を捜し当てた。しばらくして、兵隊服を着、背嚢を背負い、水筒を斜めに掛け、銃剣を持った叔父か、同僚だちといっしょに出て来た。

叔父は、私たちを見つけると、右手を戦闘帽の庇(ひさし)近くまで上げて、挙手の礼をした。叔父はおそらく母に対して、敬礼したのだと思う。そこから、軍用列車か止っている駅の前の集合場所まで、私たち一行は叔父を囲んで話しながら歩いて行った。だか、何か話すことかあっただろうか。あると言えば、ありすぎるほどあった。それで結局のところ、ほとんど話もせず、「よう眠れたと？」「気をつけんしゃいよ」などと、他愛もないことを言いあっただけだったと思う。道道、右左の路地から、次つぎに出てくる兵士の数に、私は驚いた。そのうち、兵士と、それを囲んで歩く家族たちは、駅に対う道に充ちあふれた。

駅前は、夥しい人の群れだった。人の群れは無秩序なようでいて、次第に一つの秩序をめざしていた。いつか群れは軍隊と家族の二つの集団に截然と分れ、軍隊は小隊ごとにかたまろうとしていた。

叔父は両親に「げんきで」と言い、フキエさんには目礼しただけだった。次に屈んで、私の手を握り、「かあちゃんの言うことば聞かにゃぞ」と言った。私は片手は叔父の両手に挾まれ、片手は母に引かれていた。叔父の大きな手の、男らしい体温は、私の小さな躰を通って、母にも伝わっただろうか。

最後に、叔父は母の目に見入って、「嫂さんも達者で」と言った。母は何度も、何度もうなずいていた。

叔父は改めて挙手の礼をし、白い歯を見せると、身を翻して兵士の群れの中に入った。叔父は蜿蜿とつづく兵士の長蛇の列の中に埋没し、兵士たちは駅の中に呑まれて行った。次の日から、叔父は蓋つき椀の内側の水滴に変身した。祖母か叔父の安否を気づかって陰膳(かげぜん)を据え、食事のあとで蓋をとり、蓋の裏の水滴のあるなしで、叔父の運命を占ったからである。

All I remember about the day Uncle Ken’ichi left was how sultry it was there on the platform of Naokata Station. With the scent of the crowds gathered there, it was stuffy and unpleasant. Someone had hung up a flag with the Rising Sun. People had written their best wishes for him in black ink on the white part of the flag around the red orb in the center. He was dressed in the uniform of a military recruit, and his work colleagues were also there throwing him into the air over and over again.

I stood by my grandparents while holding Mother’s hand. She was dressed in a kimono covered with a pattern of arrow feathers. I watched him and the others absentmindedly. Only when someone walking along the platform stopped as if in surprise did I indicate my pride in being connected to the specially chosen guest of honor. I did so first by looking at Uncle Ken’ichi, who was being tossed into the air, then looking back at the passersby.

My Uncle Ken’ichi (middle) with his comrades-in-arms
wearing the uniforms of the Japanese imperial army.
FROM Twelve Views from the Distance
BY Mutsuo Takahashi

The time I remember best of all was when we sent off Uncle Ken’ichi from Moji. He was departing for Niigata, where he would get on the airplane that would carry him to the battlefield. We took the Chikuhō line from Naokata, transferred at Orio, and took the Kagoshima main line to Moji, the station where the line originated. All in all, it took two and half hours to get there, so in order to see him off at nine-thirty in the morning, we had to leave Naokata at a little after five o’clock.

That was the first time in my life anyone woke me up while it was still dark. I suspect Mother and Grandmother were trying to soothe and humor me the whole way to the station. I still remember with crystal clarity rubbing my sleepy eyes and looking across the platform to see the sun rise in the sky over Mount Mitachi. The black, nighttime sky gave a strong convulsion, then the expanse of the darkness quickly became lighter as if a membrane had been peeled from its surface. There was a second convulsion. The sky grew lighter still. Once again, a third convulsion and more light. In this way, the dawn slowly broke across the sky. That was how my first dawn looked to me.

We got off of the steam-driven locomotive at Moji. There were five of us trailing along: my grandparents, Mother and I, and a young relative named Fukie who people had briefly discussed as a possible marriage prospect for Uncle Ken’ichi. As we walked, we kept asking the locals how to get to the private house where he was staying. The house was in a residential area named Kogane-machi. After a while, he came out with some of his colleagues. He was wearing a military uniform and rucksack, and at his side were his bayonet and canteen, which hung at a diagonal from his waist.

When Uncle Ken’ichi saw us, he raised his right hand to his military cap and saluted. I suspect this salute was directed more at Mother than anyone else. From there, we walked with him to the gathering place in front of the station where the military vehicles were waiting. We talked the whole way, but what was there really to talk about? I suppose that in a way, there was too much to talk about, but we did not brooch the important subjects. Instead, I believe we just stuck to unimportant exchanges, such as “Did you sleep alright?” and “Now, be careful.” I was shocked by the number of soldiers that appeared one after another from both sides of the road. The soldiers and their families filled the road to the station almost to the point of overflowing.

There was a big crowd in front of the station. They did not appear to be organized at first, but gradually they sorted themselves out. The crowd divided into two distinct groups — the military men and their families — then the military men started to congregate by platoon.

Uncle Ken’ichi said to his parents, “Stay well.” To Fukie, he just nodded. Next, he bent down and took my hand between his. “Listen to what your mommy tells you,” he said. As he held my hand between his, Mother pulled at my other hand. I wonder if the masculine warmth of Uncle Ken’ichi’s large hand didn’t travel through my small body to reach her as well… Last of all, he turned to Mother and said, “Nee-san,^[1] you take care of yourself too.” Mother nodded over and over again as if she did not know what to say. He saluted us again, and grinning so that we could see his big white teeth, he turned around and joined the soldiers. He buried himself in the long line, which meandered along like a great serpent. Slowly the line disappeared into the station.

The next day, Uncle Ken’ichi was transformed into the drops of moisture on the inside of a lidded bowl. Each day, Grandmother would set an extra meal at the table for him as a way of hoping for his safe return. She would place a lid over his food, and by the end of the meal, she would look to see whether or not moisture had condensed inside. She believed this method of fortune-telling would help her know his fate.