Lately, I have been joining my
parents at their weekly clinic. Adriana and I have just learned about World War
II so we sent emails out to our great-grandparents to learn about their
experiences in World War II. Then the following week when we were at clinic,
Dad asked the people there about their experiences. I hurried to write notes
but most of the people did not have any stories. One man did. He had many
stories. His wife invited me to her houses to her more stories. After
breakfast, he started telling stories. He was captured by the Japanese and a
messenger for the Americans. My favorite story is of his time as a messenger:
“I was taken as a messenger for the
American. They would put a message in a wax container like the ones tennis
balls come in. Then they put it in my back pack covered it with grass, kamote,
and then some more grass. I would hike to Betwagan via. Taluban. An American
squad was always with me. There were many leeches on the path. When I got there, they took my back pack, fed
me, and clothed me. Then they let me rest the next day. They also gave me a
field jacket that reached past my waist because it was too big. Then I walked
back with my back pack and when we went home, they took my backpack again. It
may have had a new message in it. I had to keep my journey a secret so I
learned what secret and top secret meant from the military. I was also given two triangles of cloth: one
white and one red for when I went to Samoki. I would hide them in my g-string
and tie them on sticks and use them as signals for the Americans. I would wave
them three times. It is only now I know that the red meant danger and that the
white meant forward.”
Still dancing,
Alexie
