Did I take his hand and thank him for his gallant service? No; I could not. I only wept for his goodness with unbounded gratitude in my heart and prayed that he might be spared. “To share the shadow of the same tree, to drink from the same stream of water,” is said to be the promise of meeting again in another world. But he voluntarily threw himself into the boiling caldron of danger and rescued me out of certain death; he was truly the giver of my renewed life. My present life is not mine at all; I should have died in Bodai surely: that I now live is due to Takesaburo Kondo alone. Kondo was killed within a month after this! His spirit is now too far away to see me, whom he rescued amid such great difficulties and dangers. When I think of this I cannot cry out my sorrow or talk about my sentiments, because both the cry and the words become choked in my throat.
During the night four or five wounded soldiers took advantage of the darkness to carry me past the enemy’s front to the first aid, which they found with difficulty. I was still faint and in a dreamy state and could not take in much; the only thing I remember is that I was put on a stretcher, without removing overcoat and poles on which I had been borne thus far. At last I was laid down in a spot where people were busy running to and fro. That was indeed the first aid station. As soon as I realized this, I cried out:—
“Is Surgeon Yasui here? Surgeon Ando?”
“I am Ando! Yasui is also here!” was the immediate response. I did not expect to find these friends here, but simply called their names as in a dream, the names so dear to my heart. But the strange, mysterious thread that tied us together in friendship drew me to their place and put me under their care—a thing that could never be planned or mapped out in the battle-field, where separation and dispersion is so universal a rule. Heaven granted me a chance to meet them in my time of need. At this unexpected hearing of their voices my heart beat high.
“Surgeon Yasui! Surgeon Ando!”
They took my hands and stroked my forehead and said: “Well done. You have done well.”
I noticed that the body of my battalion commander, Major Kamimura, was lying to my left. When attacking the first skirmish-trenches, he was standing in the farthest front and cheering us on. And that same brave officer was now a spiritless corpse sleeping an eternal sleep here, his servant clinging to his body, crying at the top of his voice.
Soon I was bandaged and sent to the rear, and had to say an unwilling farewell to the two surgeon friends whom I had come across to my unexpected and unbounded joy!
When I met Surgeon Yasui later, he told me something of my condition at the time I was taken to the first aid:—
“The position of that first aid station was such that none of us expected to find any of the wounded of our detachment brought there; yet I was enabled to take care of you; that is the strangest of strange happenings. I had asked about you of the wounded men as they came in, and all said that you must be dead. There was one even who affirmed that you were killed below the wire-entanglements of Kikuan. So I had concluded that I should never see you again in this world of the living, but wishing to recover your body, I made careful inquiries about where you were killed—all to no purpose. Later, a sergeant by the name of Sadaoka came in, and I asked him about you and got the answer that you had been killed in the ravine of Kikuan. At once I dispatched some hospital orderlies to bring your body back on a stretcher, but it was too dark, and the enemy’s fire was still violent, and they came back without accomplishing anything. Still anxious to get you, I sent out a second group of orderlies, who brought you back, still living, to our great surprise and joy. At the first glance we thought that you must die in a few hours, and Surgeon Ando and I looked at each other in sorrow. Therefore, when we sent you on to the field hospital, of course we thought it was an eternal good-by in disguise.