Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

When I mention that Sherlock Holmes reminds me of Nancy Drew, Lily’s face lights up and she says we should definitely go see the movie with Gene. Nanea says maybe we’ll get some hints that will help us find the owner of the book.

After Mrs. Suda fixes us some lunch, we pile into Gene’s car to drive downtown. I learn they don’t have seatbelts in the 1940s. And the front seat is one long couch instead of two separate chairs. But despite all of these unfamiliar things, there’s plenty of room inside the backseat for the three of us, even though Nanea and Lily’s gas masks take up most of the floor.

As we drive, we see more and more cars like Gene’s on the road in deep blues, blacks, and browns. Every now and then, we see an army green Jeep. Dad drives a Jeep like that when he’s home. But lately, it just sits in the driveway unused.

Outside the theater, there’s a massive crowd. I comment that it looks like Saturday night. Nanea reminds me that nobody can go to the movies on Saturday nights since the blackout. Plus the curfew, so nobody can be outside at night. Nanea sighs. The war has changed everything.

Admission costs only a dime, though a lobby poster offers free entry to anyone buying a War Bond instead. Nanea mentions her school sold so many War Stamps they earned a Minuteman flag. She asks me if my school sells stamps, too. When I admit I don’t understand the whole War Stamps thing, she explains that buying a bond means lending the government money, which it repays later with interest. Hearing that Nanea lent her own government money sounds very important and official. I lend money to my little brothers sometimes, though I doubt they will ever repay me, interest or not.

We slide into our seats just as the film starts. I have watched other Sherlock Holmes pictures, but this one plays out differently, thick with Nazi spies, soldiers, and secret codes. When the credits roll I move to stand, but Nanea tugs me back down for the newsreel. Grainy black-and-white footage shows planes releasing bombs and tanks firing. It makes the war feel very far away and unreal, until I remember where I am—or when I am. I’m relieved when the tanks and guns finally fade to black.

Next, the newsreel turns to cryptologists, people who crack enemy codes, reporting that American cryptologists recently unraveled JN-25, a top-secret Japanese cipher. Lily notes that several of the cryptologists on screen are women. News rarely holds my attention, but this segment genuinely hooks me. When it wraps up, I rise again, only for Nanea to remind me we bought tickets for a double feature. Another movie? I can hardly believe we spent just a dime for two movies!

Codes and cryptologists dominate our conversation the whole drive home. Nanea recalls their friend, Donna, now in San Francisco, who once mailed them a letter that was torn in half. One half was sent to Nanea, the other to Lily. They had to put them together to read the letter. It felt like it was written in code!

Gene mentions a rumor about a dog that supposedly barks in Japanese code, earning a swat on his seat from Nanea, who reminds him they are not supposed to spread rumors like that. Lily agrees, adding that too many rumors are already circulating around the island.

When I ask what kind, Lily mentions one claiming the Japanese had poisoned the water supply, which strikes me as anything but funny. Nanea offers a lighter example, about a military crew that fired on what turned out to be a school of fish instead of an enemy submarine, and that one actually makes me laugh.

Gene’s favorite involves a coded warning supposedly hidden inside a nylon stockings ad that ran before Pearl Harbor. People believed its “clues” pointed to a coming air raid on the navy shipyard, since “parade” rhymes with “air raid” and “by the yard” could be a reference to the navy shipyard. I ask if any of it was true, and both girls answer “No” at the same time. I wonder if I would’ve been one of the people who believed it.