Tava's+WWII+Narrative+Essay


 * __The Final Words__**

My Father, Kichiro Yamamoto, my Grandpa, Tetsuo Yamamoto, who I like to call Grandpa Teddy, and myself, Akira Yamamoto, were all making dinner in late August of 1942. We were preparing Yakitori for the main dish and Mont Blanc for dessert, which were both Dads favorite. Knowing that he was probably going to have to leave soon, I just wanted him to be happy, and smile. Dad and Grandpa tried to stay happy as possible even though they worked long hours and everyone was trying to make it ever since Mom died. I tried my hardest to be happy so it would assure Dad and Grandpa Teddy we would turn out okay.

We all woke up with a scare, hearing yelling at our door. All I kept thinking to myself was, “Please, don’t take Dad,” over and over again. It gave me goose bumps just thinking about it. I hid behind Grandpa Teddy as he and Dad opened the door. Yes, it was them. I fell right to the floor. I felt like I couldn’t breathe at all. Dad went to go put on his uniform and grab all his bags he packed a while back, waiting for this day to come. I know that he is proud of what he does, but I also know it tears him apart. The General let us know many were dying and plenty of soldiers were getting drafted to the war, this worried me. He then came out and the General was leading him outside, Grandpa and I followed. When he got to the end of the sidewalk, he turned to face me. I ran to him with a big bear hug. The wind slowly blew by, giving me chills up and down my delicate spine. I felt tears go onto my shirt as he whispered into my ear, “I love you and stay strong. Not just for me, but for Mom.”

The General started pulling him away from me, and Grandpa started pulling me. I started screaming and kicking my feet, kind of like someone was attacking me. Grandpa started yelling at me. I stopped screaming and kicking, but continued to cry and sort of whimper. As Dad walked away, he kept turning back, and one of the times, he winked, and then I smiled. Then he was gone…

The house was quiet for a while, and it felt like thoughts filled the air. A few weeks later Grandpa was up, and got the mail. I headed downstairs, and when he walked in, he was intensely reading something. He saw me watching him, and explained to me that the war had started, and nurses and doctors were short. Since he is a nurse, he was asked to go help. I know some about medicine and such from him always teaching me when I was sick or got hurt, so I was coming along, and I kind of figured he would like the company of me being there, able to assist him. We live in a town called, Belana, which actually isn’t that far away from the Guadalcanal, where the war is. We planned to leave in three days, since this was pretty unexpected. We had much packing to do, Grandpa also had to gather all the medicine he had, and of course, he made more, “just incase.” I was actually kind of excited to go, mainly in hopes of being able to see my Father. It feels as if I haven’t seen him in years, even though it’s been a few weeks.

I woke up; it was the day to leave. I felt anxious, excited, worried, and so many other emotions were running through my mind. Knowing that the war has been going on for a while concerned me deeply, but I knew I just had to be positive about it. I went downstairs to eat breakfast; It was simple, eggs, toast, and an orange. After we ate, Grandpa gathered all the milk, bread, fruits, and vegetables, and put it in a bag. He said he was doing this because he wasn’t sure if there would be enough food, and that the soldiers need it more than us, so we should bring our own to try and be helpful to others. I thought it was smart. After he packed all that up, he went to get the medicine and I went upstairs to gather my things. I made sure I had everything necessary and I packed basic clothes, a hairbrush, toothbrush, and a few blankets. Nothing major. I headed downstairs and we were all ready to go. Grandpa quickly grabbed his camera. He loved photography, so I figured he would be taking pictures. As we walked out, I waved to our house and smiled. We then drove to the train station. It was about a thirty-minute drive there. We then got our train tickets and boarded. Grandpa told me it would be about a four to five hour ride, and for me to get comfy. I watched out the window for a bit then I slowly fell asleep..

I woke up with a bit of scare from the nightmare I had. It was about Dad not making it, and I saw him get shot. It was honestly, kind of traumatizing. I just brushed it off my shoulders, smiled at Grandpa Teddy, and then the Conductor let us know that we had reached our destination. We grabbed our bags, and headed off. We thanked the Conductor and then rented a car. Well it kind of looked like a Jeep. We actually met with some others that were called out to help, so we all rode together. It was nighttime and there was a slight breeze. I grabbed my sweater out of one of my bags and put it on. I was all toasty warm. We got to where the map told us to go. We told our new friends goodnight, and headed to our tent. When we got into it, I was honestly disgusted. I have never smelt anything so bad before, and it made me sick to my stomach.

Grandpa saw the look on my face and told me, “Don’t forget. We are here to help them, be nice.”

I nodded in agreement, and helped him set up all the medicines and bandages. We put down some blankets, got out two pillows, and then fell asleep. We were awakened what seemed about 7:30 AM. Which was pretty early for me. Gunshots were being fired constantly. I could hear the horror screams of soldiers being hit, the moans of soldiers trying to get back up on their feet. I felt guilt in my stomach. I wanted to go out and help, but with my luck I would get shot. After about fifteen minutes, men started pouring into the tents. I got to work with the easy ones, like simple bandaging or shots or anything like that. One man caught my eye immediately though. When he came in, he was bawling his eyes out, blood was everywhere on his body. I went by him, and watched Grandpa Teddy help him. I smiled and said, “You know, you’re a very brave person, I bet your family would be proud.”

He smiled and replied while sobbing, “My wife, my kids, my mom, my dad, everyone. What if I don’t see them again? What if I don’t get to tell them I love them one more time?”

I told him, “They will always know that you love them, even when you don’t get to see them. You will always be in their hearts no matter what.”

He slowly his eyes, grabbed my hand, and lightly whispered, “Thank you for everything…”

I started crying immediately. I thought of his family, they are going to be devastated, but I know they will be proud for what he did. I toughened up, and got back to work. It was the most exhausting day ever. I have smelt things I never imagined. The smell of blood filled the air, dead bodies covered on the land, and it was horrifying. I went by my “bed” and got ready to sleep. Thoughts were scattered through my mind, making it hard to fall asleep. I started humming my Moms favorite song, and slowly drifted away.



It’s been about 3 weeks of helping. It’s an amazing feeling when you see their face after you tell them that they will be all right. Their faces just light up and they get the biggest smile; It gives me hope for everyone. It seems as if the smell gets worse and worse everyday. I kind of got used to hearing the gunshots, it didn’t frighten me as much anymore. Grandpa would laugh at me because I would jump every time. I was just happy, to see him happy. The day was smooth, as in smooth, I mean soldiers coming in and out, blood being everywhere. Then all of the sudden someone came in that looked very familiar…

My heart drpped. It was Dad. Grandpa called me over, letting me know he was hit. He got shot twice in the chest. I went straight to his side. He grabbed my hand, and smiled at me. I started bawling my eyes out, and my tears were falling to his face. I saw tear fall from the side of his face making me cry even more. Grandpa was doing all he could to help, but he looked at us and said, “I don’t think he’s going to make it..”

He squeezed my hand as tight as he could; he looked at me and smiled. He told me I was a strong girl for going through all of this, and how proud of me he was. I let him know that I was proud of him and I adore him for every little thing he has ever done for me. My tears were still falling onto his face as I was spending my last moments with him. He signaled me to come closer, and I did. He whispered into my ear, “I’ll always love you,” and those were the final words from him.

I then yelled, “Please don’t leave me!”

After that very moment, his eyes drifted away, then shut. He was gone…

__Bibliography__ = = "Guadalcanal." //U.S. Army Center Of Military History//. Web. 27 Mar. 2012. .