Our story begins in the year 1945.

A young and well off Chinese couple have rented a care for a trip up into the mountains.

It is August and New York City is sweltering under a heat wave. The streets of Chinatown seem to grab the heat and hold on to it. During the day the rooms inside are unbearable and the nights are no better. All the heat from the day, buried in the concrete steams upwards at night.

Robert and Betsy Chan are a bright young couple. Both born in Chinatown, they have inherited a garment business from Betsy's father. They have a young son, Richard Chan, age five, of whom they are very proud.

Already he had shown signs of being an exceptional child. They had seen his uncanny ability to concentrate for hours on end.

There is a strange stillness to the child, as if he was thinking deep and profound thoughts.

But Betsy and Robert aren't troubled by their unusual child. They see his concentration as the sign of a great mind and they give the boy lots of encouragement and attention.

Betsy reads to him for hours every day.

Not children's books; she reads him the classics from all the nations of the world, and Richard Chan seems to understand.

On this day in August of 1945, the heat becomes too much for the Chans. Richard seems troubled by the heat, he hasn't eaten in two days.

Robert decides to borrow his father's car and take his family up to the Catskills of upstate New York for two days of cool mountain air.

The young and happy family pile into the car and set off.

Within an hour they are on their way, taking Route 9W, the old road that winds along the banks of the Hudson. Before the New York State Thruway was built, this was the main road heading north.

As they pass West Point and wind through the spectacular Hudson Highlands, the family relaxes. It is so good to be out of the hot and dirty city. Life seems so good.

The family start to sing and Richard brings smiles to his parents' faces with his adorable voice and earnest manner.

The bright young child sits in the front seat between his parents. He looks up at them with his wondering young almond shaped eyes. He is happy and the countryside is beautiful. If, alas, our story could end at this moment, so many lives would have been very much better.

But fate is not on our side.

The merciless face of life on this planet raised its ugly head and a devastating chain was set off. A chain that would lead to suffering, pain, torture and, yes, death for the innocent.

The family decided to stop for a sandwich in one of the little towns that dot the West bank of the mighty Hudson and after eating they would head further West into the sweet green hills of the Catskills.

The place they stopped was called Marge's Place and was little more than a diner, an old fashioned one made from an old railroad dining car.

Marge was in her sixties, a full figured woman with few illusions left.

She had lost three husbands to other women, she had her first drink with breakfast and she just didn't care anymore. She only got out of bed in the morning out of some long ago instilled sense of duty.

The war years had been lean ones for Marge and her sad little diner. She was barely making a profit but she liked the company it provided. There was a small group of workers from a nearby cement plant who would drop by most days after work. Marge would pull out the hidden beers and the country folk would sit around chatting as evening turned into night.

On this particular day, Marge was behind the counter and Gary and Tom Rodgers were sitting in front, nursing coffees and shooting the breeze.

Gary and Tom were a couple of mean sons-a-bitches. They came from a poor, inbred Hudson Valley family and they didn't like strangers. They also didn't like anyone who wasn't of their class, mentality or colour. In short, they were a hateful pair.

Robert pulled into the gravel parking lot and the happy young family got out.

Betsy Chan was suddenly struck by a terrible wave of foreboding. It shot through her with sheer physical force. It told her to turn and run. Run as fast as you can and get away.

"What is it, Betsy, you look troubled," Robert asked.

Betsy shook her head, as if coming out of a terrible dream.

"Robert, let's not go in there, let's keep driving and get away from this place."

"Oh, Betsy, you are such a silly one sometimes, but I love you for it. What is there to worry about, we are safe. It's broad daylight and this is only a small country diner. Why are you worried?"

Robert hugged his wife close and they kissed lightly.

"Hungry, hungry," little Richard said, pointing to the diner.

The bright sun warmed Betsy's body and she felt her fear easing. How silly she was, she thought, what a fertile imagination.

The three of them walked into the diner.

Marge looked up from her horoscope booklet and eyed the new arrivals with suspicion.

Marge didn't care for strangers and if they weren't white, well she didn't want to have anything to do with them. Still, a dollar was a dollar and these were hard times.

At least, she thought to herself, they weren't coloured. She'd had a couple of coloured folks in the week before and she had refused to serve them.

Gary and Tom were talking about the war and how they wished that every goddamn Kraut and Jap would have their heads blown off. There was an awful lot of hate in their tiny minds.

Robert sensed and unease as they entered the diner and wondered if perhaps they should turn around and leave.

"Hungry, hungry," Richard said, tugging on his father's sleeve.

Marge looked down at the kid and had to admit to herself he was very cute.

"Are you serving?" Robert asked, wanting to judge the tone of the ample Marge.

"Well, hon, I ain't standing here for my health," said Marge.

She managed a tiny smile as punctuation.

"She ain't standing there for her health, damn it, Marge, you're a cracker," Tom said.

The Rodgers brothers turned and leered at the young Chinese family.

Robert Chan led his family to one of the small booths that lined the wall opposite the counter. He picked one farthest away from the brothers. Robert didn't like the look of them.

There was an eerie feeling in the diner on that hot August day, a feeling of impending doom. The air was thick with expectation.

The two brothers had a powerful rage churning inside both of them. They'd both been turned down for military service because of their prison records and their low intelligence. And quite a few taunts had been thrown at them because of it.

"Yellow, Kraut loving chicken faggots," was one that had been hurled at them from more than one passing car.

All their friends were in the service and they were reduced to hanging around a grungy diner and listening to the war stories on the radio.

"What ya want?" Marge called from behind the counter. She didn't like the effort that was involved in crossing in front of the counter. Many people swore that she hadn't crossed to the front of the counter for years.

"Do you have a menu?" Robert asked.

He looked around the place wishing that they had chosen another spot, this place was so depressing. There was a strange sense of timelessness that hung in the thick summer air.

"Yeah, I got a menu, but it won't do you no good looking at it. I got eggs, I got sandwiches and I got some beef stew left from yesterday. What you want?"

Marge favoured her customers with a little smile but unfortunately she raised her lips and her rotted teeth came into view.

This did nothing for Robert and Betsy's appetites.

"What would you like, Rich?" Betsy asked her son.

Richard was looking around the place, his young eyes seeming to soak up every little detail. He wore a troubled expression as he sensed that something was wrong too.

"What would you like, Rich?" his father repeated, shaking his son's shoulder gently.

"Peanut butter jelly," Richard said.

"One peanut butter and jelly, please, I'd like a ham sandwich and, Betsy?"

"I would like a cheese sandwich with tomato and lettuce, please."

"That's one ham, one peanut butter and jelly and one cheese, right?"

"That's right, thank you," Robert said.

"You don't have to be so goddamn polite," Marge said.

"I'm sorry," Robert said. He was starting to like this place less and less. He wanted his family to eat quickly so they could move on.

"Don't apologise, hell, I don't deserve an apology," came Marge's reply, again favouring them with a rotted tooth smile.

With an earth shattering sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, Marge got up and sauntered into the kitchen.

Tom turned and looked at the Chinese family. Not only did he look, but he stared, his flinty, evil eyes seemed to bore into them.

"Are you fucking Japs?" Tom spit out.

"No, we are Chinese," Robert said politely.

"Whatever you are, I don't like you."

"I think they are Japs, they look like Japs to me," Gary spit out.

"We are Chinese," Robert repeated.

"Can't stand fucking Japs, trying to invade this country," Tom said.

"All fucking Japs should be strung up and left to die."

"Think we ought to make these Japs pay for Pearl Harbour?"

"We are not Japanese."

"Shut the fuck up, yellow face, nobody asked your opinion."

"You know, brother, I've heard that Jap pussies go sideways."

"Damn, that must be a sight to see, a fucking Jap cunt that goes sideways. I sure would like to see me a hot fucking sideways Jap pussy."

"Maybe we ought to make this pretty little Jap bitch show us her pussy."

"I think we should be leaving," Robert said and standing up he motioned to his family to follow.

The frightened Chinaman grabbed his son up in his arms and with his wife in tow, headed for the door.

Tom was at the door in a flash. His large frame made exiting impossible.

Tom and Gary Rodgers were large men, stocky and thick. They were lazy as coons but surprisingly agile when filled with a hateful mission.

"Wait just a minute, Jap man, where do you think you're going so fast?" Tom asked, his voice filled with menace.

"We're leaving, please move so that we may pass," Robert said.

"You ain't going nowhere, you Jap bastard, until we see your wife's pussy. If her pussy goes sideways, we'll know you're a Jap and then maybe, maybe we'll let you go," Gary said, walking up behind the family.

Robert turned and found he was surrounded by the leering brothers. He and his wife exchanged frightened glances.

"I think you must be joking," Robert said, "you surely don't expect my wife to do what you want?"

He felt intimidated and powerless to defend his loved ones.

"We ain't joking, you yellow bastard, we want to see that pussy," Tom said.