Chapter 71
I’m translating the chapter directly into the required HTML form, preserving the documentary inserts and the final letter as styled blocks where appropriate.CHAPTER_TITLE: The Long Road That Would Not Open
Joseph was about to write an address on the envelope when he stopped.
He didn’t know where to send it, and the pen hung in the air.
"Hoo."
With a heavy sigh, he put the envelope back into the drawer.
Inside were dozens of letters already stacked up.
“August 15, 1945. The war is over.”
News of Japan’s surrender drifted from the radio.
People cheered in the streets of New York.
Church bells rang.
People embraced and shouted.
Among them all, Joseph stood before the radio.
The war is over.
That meant the road ahead was open at last.
Hope swelled in his chest at the thought that he might be able to go to Hong Kong.
Hope that he might find Maria and Anna.
“But another wall was waiting for Joseph.”
"Do you have a passport?"
At the clerk’s question, Joseph went silent.
“A Jewish refugee who came to New York during the war. The Austrian passport became void the moment Nazi Germany annexed the country. He still had no American citizenship. The only proof of identity he possessed was a single refugee registration form.”
The clerk’s face softened with sympathy.
"If you don’t have a passport, you can’t leave at all. You’ll need American citizenship, or at least a valid travel document."
"Then please, issue me a temporary travel certificate. A Nansen passport would be fine. Please..."
Joseph said it desperately.
“A Nansen passport was a special identity document created so refugees who had lost their nationality through war and revolution could cross borders.”
But the clerk shook his head and closed the file.
"Sir, Europe’s entire administrative system has collapsed. Until an Austrian provisional government is established, there’s no country that can verify your identity. The U.S. government can’t guarantee a stateless person and send him out. Those are the rules."
Joseph did not give up and went to the immigration office.
He had visited this place many times during the war, but the answer had always been the same.
“Naturalization screening for refugees from enemy nations is currently suspended.”
Austria had been annexed by Germany. On paper, Joseph was a citizen of an enemy nation. Even though he was a Jew who had fled the Nazis, under wartime conditions that distinction meant nothing. He had been forced to turn away from that wall again and again.
Now that the war was over, he believed things would be different.
But the answer from the clerk behind the counter crushed his hopes once more.
"The postwar workload is overwhelming right now, so the screening process will take quite some time. At least a year or two."
"Sir, do you have any idea how long I’ve been coming here? You’re telling me to wait again?"
"There are hundreds of thousands of refugees who entered during the war. We have no choice but to process them in order. I’m sorry."
Joseph’s fists trembled faintly.
Endless waiting.
And now he had to wait another two years.
“But even in the meantime, Hong Kong was not a forgiving place.”
“Hong Kong was a ruin. Three years and eight months of Japanese occupation had reduced it to scorched earth. After liberation, British military administration moved in, but food and housing were desperately scarce.”
“The population had fallen from 1.6 million before the occupation to 600,000. The streets were full of ruined buildings and starving people. Entry by outsiders with no contacts and no employment guarantees was being tightly controlled.”
“On top of that, civil war had broken out in mainland China. In 1946, the Chinese Civil War began in full force between the Communist Party and the Nationalist Party. Millions of refugees fleeing the war poured into Hong Kong, and the Hong Kong authorities tightened their entry screening to an extreme degree.”
“A refugee who had crossed to New York during the war. Joseph had no proper passport and no certificate of nationality. The walls he had to climb were not just one, but many.”
Joseph asked a relief office worker,
"Is there really no way for me to go to Hong Kong?"
The worker shook his head.
"Hong Kong is overflowing with refugees right now. The British authorities are almost blocking all entry. Without a residence permit, it’s impossible."
"My family is there."
"Can you prove it? Do you have any official record showing your family is in Hong Kong?"
Joseph fell silent.
He couldn’t prove it.
He didn’t even know for certain whether his wife and daughter were in Hong Kong.
His belief that they had gone from Shanghai to Hong Kong was only a guess.
"...Then you’ll need to confirm their whereabouts first. Apply for the Red Cross tracing service. Once your family’s survival and location are confirmed, you can apply for a family reunification visa."
"How long will that take?"
"To be honest... there are millions of people around the world looking for family right now. If you’re lucky, it’ll take a few months. If not... I can’t promise how long."
Joseph closed his eyes and swallowed his anger.
It was hopeless.
Years.
Then years more.
“When the war ended, refugees poured out of Europe and Asia. Millions were searching for their families. Joseph was one of those millions.”
Joseph did not give up.
He started moving again.
Jewish relief organizations.
Refugee aid offices.
UNRRA.
The Joint Distribution Committee.
He went wherever there was a door he could knock on.
He cut into his lunch break.
The moment the workshop closed.
Across the desk, the employee rifled through the papers and shook his head.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Weiss. There’s no record under the names Anna Weiss or Maria Weiss."
The employee looked troubled.
"We’ll do our best, but... the records themselves are often incomplete."
"Incomplete?"
"During the war, records were lost, or the local clerks wrote the names incorrectly. It happens all the time. Records from Asia, where people weren’t familiar with European names, are especially bad. Surnames and given names get reversed, or the spelling is converted into a local form..."
Joseph’s face went pale.
"Then... you’re saying they can’t be found?"
"That’s not what I’m saying. It means it will take time. Mr. Joseph, don’t give up."
“Joseph had no idea that Maria and Anna’s names had been entered incorrectly in the camp records, nor that his beloved wife Maria had already left this world.”
He also tried to track down people who had returned from Hong Kong.
Joseph pushed through the crowd of people getting off the ship.
"Excuse me. Did you come from Hong Kong? Have you perhaps seen a Jewish nurse and a little girl?"
The man shook his head.
"Sorry, I don’t know."
He asked another person.
"Were you at Stanley Internment Camp? Did you see anyone with the surname Weiss?"
"There were so many people in the camp. I couldn’t keep track of the names..."
Again and again, he repeated the same questions.
Joseph’s shoulders sank little by little.
But the next day, he was back at the harbor.
"Unbelievable... he couldn’t find them because the names were spelled wrong."
Yui muttered.
No one answered.
They were all too busy soaking tissues with tears.
The thought that something as small as a typo could produce such a cruel result left everyone hollowed out.
Miako bit her lip.
"This is too brutal."
Hina whispered softly.
"It’s so heartbreaking that they don’t know Maria has died..."
“In 1949, Joseph finally obtained American citizenship. He was issued a passport as well. Now he could leave. But entry was the problem.”
“That same year, the Communist Party won on the Chinese mainland. On October 1, 1949, the People’s Republic of China was founded. The Nationalist government fled to Taiwan. Communist forces had pushed right up to Hong Kong’s doorstep.”
“Hong Kong had become the last foothold of the Western world, and the British authorities, under mounting tension, tightened their entry controls even further.”
“On June 25, 1950, the Korean War broke out. Hong Kong once again became the front line of tension, a gateway where the Western bloc and the communist bloc stood face to face. Britain reinforced Hong Kong’s military strength and tightened civilian entry controls even further to block espionage infiltration.”
“The U.S. government imposed an embargo on China. It strictly monitored the movement of goods and people to China and to Hong Kong, its gateway. Everyone traveling to Asia had to undergo State Department screening.”
Time passed before he knew it.
The older Joseph said to a colleague in the workshop,
"I applied for a Hong Kong visa again."
"Don’t tell me they turned you down again?"
"This time the American authorities blocked it. They say going to Hong Kong is a sensitive matter right now. If your purpose isn’t clear, they won’t grant exit permission."
"What do they mean, your purpose isn’t clear? You’re going to find your family."
"They want proof that my family is there. Since the Red Cross search hasn’t turned up anything..."
The colleague clicked his tongue with sympathy.
"And on top of that, the Korean War broke out. The timing couldn’t be worse. Everything in Asia is sensitive right now."
Joseph let out a sigh.
"The timing has been bad for twelve years already."
The colleague had nothing to say.
Joseph looked out the window.
His voice shook.
"The world isn’t letting me go."
The colleague laid a hand on Joseph’s shoulder.
“In the latter half of 1951, the Korean War had settled into a stalemate, but as armistice talks began, the administrative restrictions on civilians started to loosen, little by little.”
“Hong Kong’s entry restrictions also began to ease gradually.”
“Joseph’s citizenship documents were now complete, and the chance that his application for a humanitarian visit visa for family tracing would be accepted was growing higher.”
“And that day was almost here.”
A calendar appeared on the screen.
December 1951.
"If this winter passes, I’ll be able to go."
Joseph wrote in his diary.
I checked for seats on the President Cleveland, sailing in March.
It leaves from San Francisco and takes about three weeks to reach Hong Kong.
It’s a long voyage, but I don’t care.
I waited twelve years. What’s three weeks?
What should I say when I meet Anna?
The only words that come to mind are: I’m sorry.
Miako’s hand unconsciously tightened around the tissue on her lap.
A bad feeling crept over her.
Sakura seemed to think the same thing and shrank back.
The heavy music under the documentary had slowly begun to swell.
“December 24, 1951. Christmas Eve.”
The streets of New York.
Snow was falling.
Christmas decorations sparkled along the street.
Ribbons wrapped around the lampposts swayed in the wind.
Carols drifted through the air.
People wore bright smiles as they moved through the streets with their families.
Every shop window glowed with Christmas trees.
Children ran around hand in hand.
The whole city was soaked in holiday cheer.
In front of the Empire State Building, Joseph stood.
Snow was gathering on his coat again today.
A security guard approached him.
"Mr. Joseph. It’s Christmas Eve today. Why don’t you head in early?"
Joseph smiled.
"I was planning to stay a little longer."
"Hmm. It looks like it’s going to snow harder."
Deep lines creased the corners of Joseph’s eyes.
"It won’t be long now anyway."
"What won’t?"
"I’m going to Hong Kong in the spring."
The guard’s eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Yes. The visa came through. Looks like I’ll be able to take the ship in March."
The guard seized Joseph’s hand.
"That’s wonderful news, Mr. Joseph."
Joseph nodded.
"So tonight feels a little special. It might be the last Christmas Eve I wait here like this."
"...Then don’t catch a cold for nothing. You can’t afford to get sick before you go to Hong Kong."
"Thank you. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Joseph."
As the guard turned away, he muttered softly,
"I just hope his wife and daughter are safe."
Joseph stood there a while longer.
Snow piled on his shoulders.
He studied the faces of everyone passing by, one by one.
They were not there today either.
Joseph lifted his head and looked up at the building.
Through the falling snow, the lights at the top were just barely visible.
"When spring comes, I’ll go looking in person. There isn’t much time left."
It was a murmur to himself.
The night deepened.
Joseph turned away.
“For the first time in twelve years, Joseph’s steps were light.”
He started walking.
The road home.
He stood at the crosswalk.
The signal changed.
Joseph stepped forward.
The letter he had tucked into his pocket for Anna and Maria rustled softly.
A letter to put into the drawer tonight.
It might have been the last letter he would ever write.
Because next time, he could hand it to them himself.
Then.
KIIIIIIRRRT-!
With a deafening screech, headlights flooded his vision.
A drunk driver’s car had ignored the signal and barreled straight toward him.
Joseph’s body flew through the air.
The envelope slipped from his pocket.
The letter he had written to Anna and Maria scattered across the snow.
Joseph lay on the cold road.
Hot blood spread over the white snow.
People screamed and rushed toward him.
"Aaaagh!"
"Someone’s been hit!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"My God, on Christmas Eve..."
Joseph’s gaze rose toward the sky.
Through the falling snow, the top of the Empire State Building could be seen faintly.
“It was the light he had looked up at every day for twelve years.”
Joseph’s lips moved.
"Anna... Maria..."
Snowflakes settled on his eyes.
When he blinked, something that might have been tears, or might have been snow, slid down his face.
"I’m sorry... Dad... never... made it..."
His fingers moved.
Toward the letters scattered across the road.
They did not reach.
Not even a few centimeters.
“Those few centimeters were farther than twelve years of distance.”
"I’m so sorry... that I couldn’t go..."
Joseph’s eyes slowly closed.
The snow kept falling.
There, lying where he had last tried to reach, was a single letter.
The first line of the letter, spread open by the wind, came into view.
- To Anna and Maria, whom I want to see even in my dreams.
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