Once the Rau entourage arrived safely... at our final destination... in Zurich Switzerland... we had no immediate knowledge... as to the fate of our other fellow travelers... other than that the Behrens family... had arrived safely... about a week... before we did... and had settled down... in a charming chalet... way up in the mountains... above the city of Zurich...

And old Mr. Ruetli... who had traveled with the Behrens... refusing to die anywhere else... but in his beloved homeland... got his wish... after all... for he passed away peacefully... in his sleep... a few months after his arrival... on Swiss soil... on which momentous occasion... the Behrens reported... he bent down... and kissed the ground reverently... with tears of happiness... streaming down his cheeks...

And it was only four years later... on a summer's eve... in 1946... when I was “sweet sixteen...”... and standing at five foot ten... as tall as Papa... and already... a fledgling opera singer... at the Zurcher Oper Staatshaus... that we finally heard... about the terrible fate... of all our Swiss compatriots... and more... when we had two... significant surprise visitors... one after the other... in one single evening...!

Having no previous inkling... whatsoever... of the surprises... in store for us... on that balmy evening... our living room... still brightly lit up... from the shining sun... when our front doorbell rang... at about eight o'clock... while Papa... Xenia and I... were quietly engrossed... in our library books...

And I reluctantly put down mine... annoyed at being disturbed... from my reading... of one of my favorite authors... Zane Grey...

And when I reluctantly went... to open our front door... I most certainly did not expect to see... standing on our threshold... holding his hat nervously... in his hands... a vaguely familiar... smartly dressed... elderly gentleman...

And it was only... when he shyly smiled... and in a tremulous... breathless voice... a little out of breath... from climbing the long five flights of stairs... said he had come all the way... from Japan... to visit his friend Mr. Rau... and his family...!... that in that instant... I recognized who he was... none other than... of all people... jovial... happy-go-lucky... perennial bachelor... Mr. Zwinkler... the General Manager... of the Yokohama Country & Athletic Club...!

Delighted to see the dear man... who had made me so happy... when he played jovial Santa Claus... at the Children's Christmas Party... standing there... on our doorstep... I smiled warmly... at him... and shaking his hand... welcoming him... ushered him... into the big living room... where I announced... to a startled Papa and Xenia... who were sitting with their noses... buried in their library books...:

“Look who's come to pay us a visit... and all the way from Yokohama... Japan...!” (dramatic pause... then... with a dramatic flourish)... “Ta da... Mr. Zwinkler...!”

And watched... as Papa and Xenia... both let out gasps of surprise... then were shocked... as they looked up... and saw the hardly recognizable... pitiful appearance... of their dear old friend... Mr. Zwinkler... so very obviously a sad Shadow...... of his former dapper... exuberant... debonair... twinkling blue-eyed self... looking prematurely old now... and frail... and emaciated... beyond his fifty-six years... even though he was resplendent... all decked out... in a perfectly tailored... expensive silk suit...

There was a slight tremor... in his hands... and although the prominent feature... of his brilliant blue eyes... protruded out of sunken... black-rimmed sockets... having lost their sparkle... for good... he incongruously... still had those Santa Claus... rosy red cheeks...!

Papa recovered his composure quickly... and beaming with pleasure... jumped to his feet... and taking one giant stride... held out his arms... and with tears of joy... streaming down both their cheeks... they clasped each other hard and close... in a long... wordless embrace...

It was a very touching scene... seeing two old friends... who had known each other... for close to thirty years... reunited once more...!

And they might have gone on standing there... in each other's embrace... forever... if Xenia hadn't suddenly cleared her throat loudly...

They both jumped apart... red-faced with embarrassment... at having displayed their affection for one another... so openly... and Papa... remembering his manners... quickly offered Mr. Zwinkler... a comfortable easy chair... to sit down in...

And after graciously accepting... some refreshing Black Russian tea... in the traditional tall glass... from Xenia's treasured samovar... and a slice of her delicious... raisin almond cake... he settled back... sitting relaxed and at ease... sighing contentedly...

But when Papa... dying of curiosity... eagerly asked him how he was... and what he had been doing... for the past four years... since they had seen each other last.... at our house on the Bluff... I saw a very sad look... come over Mr. Zwinkler's face...

And letting out a deep sigh... in a tired... spiritless voice... he reluctantly began to describe... all that had befallen him... and his fellow countrymen... and their families... during... and throughout the terrible war years...

He spoke in English... for Xenia knew no German... or Swiss... and I was fascinated... all over again... by his charming... lilting accent... as he haltingly... and slowly... as if the words... were being torn... from his throat... told us of the Swiss colonial people's unfortunate... ill-conceived... misplaced trust... in the Japanese government...!

Falsely believing... that they would naturally be recognized... and honored for their neutrality... when... after declining Theodore Rau's invitation... to escape from Japan... surreptitiously... with him and his family... without official permission... their ultimate grim fate... had not been... to be given official permission... to leave Japan... as they had hoped... but to be thrown... into an internment camp... instead... together with other prisoners-of-war... immediately following the monstrous... Japanese aerial attack... on Pearl Harbor...!

They had been so certain... that their neutrality... would protect them... and that the Japanese authorities... would allow them to leave Japan... legally...

And sighing... shaking his head... Mr. Zwinkler went on to tell us of how much... and how often... throughout the long... dreary days... lengthening into weeks... then months... then years... of their terrible ordeal... of deprivation... of even the simplest necessities of life... they had expressed their regret... at not having taken... Theodore Rau's urgent advice... to heart... to flee with him... and his family...

His voice cracking... with deep-felt emotion... the tears trickling down his rosy cheeks... he told us the heartbreaking story... of how every single one of the children... not strong enough... to withstand their harsh... hostile treatment... at the hands of their brutal captors... had suffered...

Coupled with the enduring hardship... of malnutrition... ultimately developing into starvation... it had come to the point... where their parents were forced to watch... helplessly... as their children perished... one by one...!

They were the first to go... and then the grieving parents... had also ultimately succumbed... due to prolonged deprivation... and starvation... dying in horrible agony... within a few years... with some of the more prominent businessmen... accused of being spies... for the allies... even undergoing cruel... and senseless torture...

With a catch in his throat... as he painfully reminisced... over the terrible war years... Mr. Zwinkler told us... his own incredible story... when... after seeing... that all his fellow Swiss countrymen... and their families... had perished... with nobody else left... to help keep their flagging morale high... he had decided to escape...!

Refusing to relinquish... his tenuous hold on life... under the inhuman conditions... and cruel hands... of his jeering... contemptuous Japanese tormentors... he had seized a golden opportunity... early one morning... at the crack of dawn... when he noticed the absence... of one of the sentries... in his sector...!

And before his courage... could fail him... with his heart thumping in his throat... he had made his escape... running as fast... as his weakened legs... could carry him... scrabbling under the barbed wire fence... where the guard dogs... had dug a shallow pit...

And he had managed to crawl... past the guards... undetected... his scrawny body... barely covered... in his original clothing... now filthy... and tattered and torn... after almost three years... of detention... and incarceration...!

Thereafter... and for the next two years... his became a harrowing journey... of using his wits... constantly on the move... stowing away on junks... and trains... hitchhiking... taking on odd jobs... here and there... and even one... as assistant to the chef... on a Portuguese freighter... before he finally reached the safety... of the Swiss border... and home... through an extraordinary encounter... with an enterprising young man... at the Swiss Information Bureau... situated on the Spanish French border... who immediately gave him... all the official assistance... he needed...!

We all listened... to his extremely touching tale... mesmerized... We already knew... of his decision... to stay behind... although... being a bachelor... with no dependents... he could easily have left with us... when we did...

But at the time... he had declined... his friend... Theodore Rau's invitation... to join him... explaining how... over many years... he had developed a deep... innate sense of responsibility... towards the welfare... of his many Country Club members... and therefore he felt... that he could not desert them... in their hour of need... and saw it as his duty... to remain behind in Japan... close to his Swiss compatriots... and friends...

And as things... devastatingly turned out... it was a good thing that he did... for over the interminably long... suffering years... he was able to give them moral support... whenever their spirits sagged... filling them with despair... as they bemoaned their terrible fate... which was often...

And he would patiently encourage them... to endure their incarceration... for just a little while longer... for just one more hour... just one more day... constantly reassuring them... that their ordeal... would not last... and that soon... their suffering would be over...

But alas... it never was... and each one of them... had ultimately died... as a result... of too much inhuman infliction of pain... deprivation... and prolonged suffering...

Mr. Zwinkler spoke sadly... of how he had lost count... of the many times... he had been witness... to a compatriot's demise... as he drew his last breath... while laying cradled... in his arms... his much too thin body... covered in rags... that had once been an expensive... tailored suit...

Much too weak... and emaciated from hunger... to be able to even stand up... anymore... on his shaky... spindly legs... and of how... even then... he had still tried to whisper... words of comfort to him... even at the very end...

Listening to Mr. Zwinkler’s soul-wrenching words... I began to feel an increasingly great respect... for this brave... unselfish man... who clearly had an enormous... compassionate spirit... and a loving heart... as big as the ocean...

And as he shyly... and modestly... down-played the heroic part... he himself had played... I found myself wondering... whether perhaps... his display of noble... selfless devotion... to others... had ultimately spared his life... for he had been left... the sole Swiss survivor... of the horrors... of a Japanese internment camp...!

Mr. Zwinkler finally fell silent... and just sat there... in our airy... sunny living room - although it was well past nine o'clock... in the evening... - we were in double summer time... where the sun usually set... at about 10 p.m. - his shoulders slouched... looking dejected... and haunted...

And in the thick silence... that followed... with everybody sitting around the coffee table... having been deeply affected... by his agonizing tale... unable to bring themselves... to utter a single word... the doorbell suddenly rang shrilly... once again... making everybody jump violently...

And when I went to open our front door... for the second time... that evening... still feeling overwhelmed... and in a daze... over what I had just heard... it took a long while to register... in my mind... the incredible words... the stranger on our doorstep... was gasping out... from behind a paraphernalia... of photographic equipment... he was loaded down with... panting... from his long climb... up the five flights of stairs...

And when he also announced... that he had come all the way from Japan... to visit the Rau family... you could have bowled me over... with a feather...!

And doubly so... when he said that his name was Johann Peters...!

Could it be... that this brash young man... with his hat tilted rakishly... over one eyebrow... was actually the staid... drab... dull young man... my would-be tutor... loathed and despised Mr. Peters... whose receding back... I had been delighted to see... when... upon the spur of the moment... deciding not to sail on with us... but to make a detour... for the Philippines... instead... the people of which... had always fascinated him... he had disembarked... from the “Tjisadane”... at the dock of Singapore...?!

I let him in wordlessly... feeling suddenly dumb struck... unable even to react... to his friendly... smiling...:

“How you have grown up... since the last time I saw you... and how pretty...!”

And dropping his equipment... to the floor... he charmingly doffed his hat...

Not very impressed... with remnants... in my feelings... of resentment... towards him... because he was the one... who would have curtailed... my glorious freedom... on board ship... I watched him pick up... all his things again... and led him... almost abruptly... into the living room...

After everybody recovered... from their second surprise... and delight of seeing... not only one fellow Swiss... from Japan... after four years... but two... and both on the very same evening... Papa offered Mr. Peters a seat... and some refreshment... also...

And after he had rid himself... of all his gear... and settled himself down comfortably... with a tall glass... of Xenia’s Russian Black tea... and cake... Papa... antsy with ill-concealed impatience... blurted out the question... that was in all our minds... namely how he had fared... during those war years... whilst traveling through the Philippines... during the Japanese occupation...!

And our curiosity... was soon satisfied... for Mr. Peters began to describe for us... between sips... of his Black Russian tea... and bites of Xenia’s delicious raisin almond cake... the following fascinating story...:

In his quaint...charming Swiss accent... speaking in English also... Mr. Peters proceeded... to tell his rapt audience... of his disappointment... when... after finally arriving... in the islands... of the Philippines... after bureaucratic delays... and more delays in shipping... his intention to explore... all the many outlying islands... had been curtailed... so that he barely had time to explore even one... let alone the 7,100 of them...!

And... as bad luck would have it... he got caught up... in the Japanese invasion... instead... a perfectly executed exercise... carried out with exact precision - no doubt learned from the Germans - with little real resistance... from the inhabitants... to their swift overrunning... and total possession... of their islands...

So there he was... stranded in the Phillippines... a foreigner... in an enemy occupied country... forbidden to leave... forbidden to stay...!

So what to do... but hastily go through the motions... of befriending the conquerors...!

And so he put his plan... into action... and as things turned out... he did not fare too badly... after all... fortunately owing to the fact... that he spoke Japanese... fluently... even some of their dialects... and knew all their customs...

So that he was able... to converse freely... with the conscripted peasant soldier... talking in guttural “Katakana” to him... as well as with the senior officers... from more well-to-do... cultured families... talking in high class “Hiragana”... to them...!

And then... by some strange stroke of luck... the opportunity fell into his hands... to operate a small chicken farm... and the Japanese... made no objections... or trouble for him... on the whole... even sharing their rations with him... provided he supply them... with a continual flow of eggs...! All in all... a fair exchange...

Meanwhile... the Japanese army and navy... were swiftly swallowing up... one nation after another... throughout the Pacific... and horrible stories filtered down... about the unsanitary concentration camps... and the terrible... inhuman atrocities... that took place... in those dreadful places...

And then... almost overnight... it seemed... things suddenly went bad... for Imperial Japan... and its fleet of warships... and it wasn't long... before the Pacific conflict... was finally over...

And then the news was... that the Japanese... had capitulated to the Americans... on board their famous battleship... “Missouri”... in Tokyo Harbor...!

Chuckling... dapper... hale and hearty Mr. Peters... continued his narrative... as I gazed at him... wondering why I had been so negative about him - he was actually quite a nice man - and listened raptly... as he went on... with his fascinating saga...

Telling us of how it was almost impossible... for him to believe that... after three years... of eking out a living... as a chicken farmer... in the Philippines... he was free to leave... free to return to his homeland... free to go... wherever he wished...!

And so... with his sudden freedom... he sold his little chicken farm... back to the islanders... and finally fulfilled his wish... embarking on an extensive tour... of the islands... learning fascinating things about them... as he went his way... from one to the next... about the vast differences... in the ethnic groups... and their different cultures... the island people... greatly influenced... by their previous invaders and conquerors... the Portuguese... and the Spanish...

And then... having had his fill... of touring the thousands of islands... he suddenly became curious to know... how the people of his beloved Nippon... Land Of The Rising Sun... were coping... now that they had been conquered... and what their actual situation now was... under the occupation of the Americans...

And on the spur... of the moment... he decided to go back to Japan... to see for himself... how much of Japan’s islands... had actually been destroyed... by Allied bombing raids...

He had already heard... of course... of the incredibly diabolical mass destruction... by the Americans... with their deadly hydrogen bomb... of Hiroshima... and Nagasaki... where literally thousands and thousands of men... women and children... young and old... were annihilated instantly...!

They were the lucky ones... as things turned out... for little did we know then... that the others would suffer... the horrible aftereffects... of radiation... for years and years to come... dying slowly... and painfully... their insides rotting away... from absorbed radiation... with many of the women... made barren for life...!

In the name of humanity... such a horrendously inhuman act... must never... ever... happen again... this soul begs you... all of mankind...

Mr. Peters had finally come to the end... of his interesting narrative... a far more cheerful tale of war... in comparison to Mr. Zwinkler's...

Besides... he was exhibiting... none of the debilitating physical effects... of the terrible deprivation... of war time... On the contrary... he looked quite healthy - no doubt his eggs... and the shared rations... of the Japanese soldiers... had helped...

Having finished... his tall glass of tea... and slice of cake... suddenly jumping to his feet... he proceeded... to set up his equipment... asking me over his shoulder... to kindly close the drapes... all the while... running on excitedly... of how he had a wonderful surprise... in store for us... a film of something... which he was sure... would be of enormous interest... to each and every one of us...!

And once his tripod and projector... were set up... and his portable screen unrolled... and propped up... in a corner of the room... it wasn't long... before we were all letting out gasps... of excited shocks... as we saw unfold... before our very eyes... in the now semi-darkness... of our living room in Zurich... Switzerland... the black and white frames... one by one... of all too familiar landmarks... of places... that had been Papa Rau’s home... for almost thirty odd years... in the Far East... and at least about ten... of which had been mine...

And I was struck dumbfounded... and heartbroken... at the same time... to see the stark reality... of how devastatingly... the port city of Yokohama... had been bombed... and destroyed...

And when scenes... of what used to be... my beautiful Bluff... suddenly flashed... on the screen... my breath caught... in my throat... and the tears started to roll... down my cheeks... as I realized... that the long winding road... that I had happily cycled along... joyfully singing Praises... to my Beloved Heavenly Father... at the top of my voice... had been hard hit... damaged... and destroyed so badly... its magnificent... stately mansions... all gone... ruined beyond all recognition... thoroughly reduced to indistinguishable piles of rubble...!

It was almost impossible... for me to bear witness... to one devastating scene after another... and I felt a sob... rise in my throat... as I saw the familiar outlines... first of the Christ Church of England... then the International School of Yokohama... then St. Maur's... and St. Joseph's... and then overjoyed to realize... that they were all... still standing... and only partially destroyed... by the air raids...!

And then I could hardly believe my eyes... when I recognized our very own house... at the end... of the spur of the Bluff... above the Miharashibashi Tunnel... Miraculously still standing... entirely intact...! And then saw... that the poor Murray's house... situated right next door to ours... and the last house... further down... were totally destroyed...!

An icy cold shiver... ran up and down my spine... as I contemplated the strange reason why... of all the houses... in that particular row... of three European style houses... our house... which... if it could talk... could tell harrowing tales... of mental and physical torture... that had been perpetrated... within its walls... where... for about close to two years... I had endured... such harsh discipline... from Papa... and such a strange... abnormal relationship... with my stepmother... Xenia... so much unhappiness... had been spared annihilation... and could come up... with no answer...

(In fact... when Papa and Xenia returned to Japan... in 1947... after packing me off... to England... for Secretarial Training... at the Kensington Secretarial College For Girls... instead... when I was seventeen... because of the uncertainty... they might find... back in Papa’s beloved Nippon... regarding furthering my education there... what with the American occupation... they simply reoccupied... their intact old house again...!

And what is more incredible... is that they also recovered... all their furniture... and the rest... of their household furnishings... and belongings... from the godowns... which from time to time... one of Papa’s loyal... Japanese office managers... would “get a strong feeling”... to remove... and store into another godown...!

And no sooner had he done that... than the prior godown... was bombed to smithereens...! Throughout the war years... he moved the Rau belongings... from one godown to another... all told... five times...!)

I hardly listened... to the dramatic voice of Mr. Peters... as he did a running commentary... with each familiar picture frame... All I was aware of... were the mixed feelings... churning inside me...

Certainly... part of my curiosity... to know how much of my beloved Nippon... Land Of The Rising Sun... which I had cherished... and loved... so dearly... not only in this lifetime... but in the previous one... as well... had been destroyed by bombs... was being satisfied...

But the terrible... gnawing heartache... to realize irrevocably... that my beloved Bluff... was no more... gone forever... was almost more... than I could bear...

Never again... to feel happily carefree... cycling along her wide boulevard... with the bracing ocean breeze... caressing my cheeks... and whipping my loose... golden tresses about...

Singing my jubilant Praises... to my Heavenly Father... my grateful heart... full of love for Him... and thankulness... for His Sky... His Fleecy Clouds... His Blossoming Bushes... Stately Trees... and Breathtakingly Exquisite Flowers... in the beautiful gardens... of the magnificent mansions...

That special... precious time... spent all alone with Him... always so joyfully exhilarating... as I cycled to and from... St. Maur's Catholic Convent for Girls... after the ISY... was forced to close down... because of the outbreak of war...

And I found myself wondering... through the blur of tears... what had happened... to all my many school friends... of all those different... fascinating nationalities... cultures and traditions...

And where was my dearest Sister Teresa today... and all the other nuns... who had had such a hard time... coping with me... and my embarrassing... soul deep questions... my willful... impulsive spirit... irking them no end... Were they alive and well... somewhere...?

And I “knew” somehow... that they were all gone... evaporated in the mists of time... and that our paths... would never cross again... not in this lifetime...!

And my heart ached... with sudden longing... to have everything... as it was before...

Why... I was actually sitting... at my desk in class... listening intently... to Reverend R.P. Pott... my beloved Papa Bear... or Miss Mann... or Mr. Turtle... or Miss Bell... teaching... as a happy permanent boarder... of the school...

And I had never left... my beloved Nippon... never crossed two oceans... never seen Shanghai... or Auckland... or Surabaya... never been to Hollywood... never been awesomely dwarfed... by the magnificent New York skyscrapers... or seen Lisbon... or Madrid... It was all just a wonderful daydream...!

I closed my eyes tightly shut... telling myself... that when I opened them again... I would blissfully find myself... back in Yokohama... Japan... happily hiking with Papa... through its glorious mountains... with their spectacular... breathtaking waterfalls...

Or way up in an inn... in Nikko... sitting in a steaming hot sulfur bath... while touching the ice cold snow... surrounding it...!

Or exploring... inside the huge Buddha... in Kamakura... and sitting on his third eye...!

Or being rocked gently... on one of the quaint island restaurants... floating in the waters... beyond the Torii Gate... gorging myself... on delectable “O Yaku Domburi”... or “Sukiyaki”... by soft... paper lantern lights...

But of course... I wasn't... and I felt like throwing a tantrum...!

How could fate... have been so cruel... as to set me down... on the most loathsome place on earth... populated with such a by and large hatefully petty... critical... narrow-minded people... with no joy in their spirits... the anal-retentive... humorless... stiff German Swiss...?

A beautiful scene... suddenly flashed... through my mind... and with a lump in my throat... I whispered “Sayonara Sakura”... knowing... that I would never again... stroll dreamily... through Kyoto Gardens... shrouded in her delicate... pink-white world... reverently treading the pathways... strewn with a soft carpet... of fallen cherry blossoms... inhaling their sweet... overpowering scent...

And for a brief moment... I pictured myself... deliriously surrounded by the Sakura trees... in full bloom... all dressed up resplendently... in my gorgeous silk kimono... and getas...

And gazing at Mr. Peters’ last picture frame... through the blur of tears... and the heavy ache... in my heart... I realized... with an utter finality... that I was really and truly... saying “Sayonara”... to the most interesting... formative years... of my childhood... spent there... in the Orient... absorbing its fascinating culture... and honorable traditions... many of which I already knew of... from my last incarnations... at first... then through all my many beloved Amahs... who always treated me so gently... and kindly... as one of their own... (Of course... when I wrote this... I had no memory of the sexual abuse... they put me through... for two years... as a baby... selling my little body to Daiku-sans...! (construction laboreres)

And when I was about six... through the sudden introduction to children... of all nationalities... at the International School of Yokohama... learning all about their different cultures... and customs... and traditions...

And I “knew” ... right then and there... that I would never set foot on my beloved Nippon’s lovely shores... ever again...!

For it was truly to be “Sayonara” ... forever more...

T H E  E N D

“From The Shadow... Of The Rising Sun...”

Completed Friday July 27th 2009... my beloved sister Prima's birthday... at exactly 10.00 a.m...!

At “Little Cilandak”... Grand Bay Alabama USA...

My saga is continued... in my Spiritual Odyssey Titled...:

“From Seven Hells... To Seventh Heaven... SUBUD...”

This work is currently being re-edited... for the very last time... and will also soon be available... to be read... on Beloved Bapak’s Holy Website... “SUBUD STORIES...”... by all my many SUBUD Brothers and Sisters... and all the very special... Angel Guided... Worthy in the Eyes of God... "clickers..." also absolutely free of charge... Insha Allah... God Willing...

Countess Graziella Nadia Rau Turin

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