Chapter 27

A FAR COUNTRY.

(From September 1973, the day my squadron Commanding Officer at Cherry Point tells me the Marine Corps will soon send me to Japan, till I arrive at my new, and final, active-duty station, in Japan, on 5 December 1973)

On a normal workday morning in September 1973, life is going along normally as I walk along the hangar’s catwalk alongside our squadron’s offices (upstairs), overlooking the hangar’s concrete deck and its airplanes somewhat far below. That normalcy is about to evaporate in my face. I meet my Commanding Officer, Major D., on the catwalk. After I give him the respectful, required greeting, he remarks in passing, “You are going to Japan. The message just came down from Headquarters (U.S. Marine Corps Headquarters in Washington, D.C.). Your official, written orders from D.C. will arrive here in proper time.” He went along on his busy way.

That news was a plenty big surprise to me. I neither expected that move, nor desired it. But I must follow orders. (Unlike that tentative transfer to California, I well know these orders are not negotiable, though I did not yet know they were God’s Divine Marvelous Plan for my life, to soon become a lifetime missionary in Japan.) So, I immediately mentally accept the “fate” of this far transfer. I soon go into the S-1 office (administration), next to the ready room to inquire further of my flying buddy (navigator Captain Russell), the admin officer in charge of all such paperwork. I ask him when I’m to go to Japan. “At the beginning of December.”

Because the Marine Corps has ceased sending pilots to Viet Nam and Thailand to make war, I naïvely assumed I would remain stationed here at Cherry Point till my discharge date of February 15, 1975. And my simple little soul had come to greatly rejoice in that assumption. God was steadily giving me increasing “ministry” in church, resulting in much needed Spiritual growth for me. I looked forward to such ministry here continuing, till I got discharged from the Marines. Then I would likely go to Bible school a year or 2 to become well qualified to preach the word…in season and out of season.

But today, I abruptly hear that the Marine Corps is going to upset my apple cart by sending me all way to the other side of the world. I learn that Headquarters typically makes sure to send each Marine overseas to fill a necessary work slot at a foreign base before being discharged. I will get orders to serve 1 year at Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni (in Yamaguchi Prefecture in southern Japan just south of Hiroshima). It disappoints me to hear that. But there is no arguing with Headquarters. So, I immediately set about preparing (both mentally and physically) for that major move.

A foremost thought is: ‘What am I to do with this house I bought just over 2 years ago?’ As I talk to everyone at church about me leaving and ask them to pray about what I would be able to do with the house, a young married couple in the Sunday School class I teach, is interested in renting it. That’s an immense relief to hear. So, I visit them in their house (my 1^st visit ever) to discuss this matter. They’re living in a nice brick rental house with their small son (about 3 years old). They tell me their monthly rent is $225, and that their finances are strained. So, I offer them a deal of a lifetime.

‘My house is not near as nice as this one you now live in. But if you want to rent it, I will set the monthly rent at $75 (the amount of my monthly house payment). Also, I will not need that rent money till I get discharged from the Marines, which will be almost 16 months after you move into the house. So, I will not ask you to pay any rent till I come back here to New Bern in early 1975.

If you move into my house when I depart Cherry Point on military leave in early November (2 months away), you can then stop paying your present high rent to enable you to catch up financially. Then in a few months when you are breathing easier financially, you can start putting away some money monthly, so you can pay all 15 months or so of my low rent when I then return here.’

That young married couple rejoiced over such a generous offer, gladly took me up on it, and moved into my house a week or more before I left that area. (I went into a BOQ room on base at Cherry Point when they moved into my house.) I rejoiced, that good friends whom I already knew (a trusty “church couple”), would be in my house to take good care of it, and that the rent charge would make my monthly payments on the house. $100 or even more per month would have been cheap rent, but I had no desire to squeeze all I could from them. I wanted to help them.

So, at that point in time, they and I each think, “This sure is a win-win deal for both parties!” It certainly turned into a winner of a deal for them (that is, until that young man stands before The Judgment Bar of His Just Creator God), because they never paid me a dollar of rent, not even a cent for living in my house 15 months or so.

Fine upstanding church couples should do right!

Upon us mutually reaching that agreement (well over a month before they will be able to vacate their expensive house and enter my cheap one), the hubby immediately went straight to a boat dealer and chose a plentifully expensive new pleasure boat. He drove hurriedly to his house with loan papers (for a loan to buy the boat), forcing his wife to reluctantly co-sign with him (she being opposed to his extravagant spending).

About a week after I sat in their living room (listening to them bemoan their high rent and tight finances), I and compassionately agreed to rent them my house most cheaply and pay me much later, I drive by their house to see that fancy, expensive (unpaid for), shiny new boat setting in their yard (much to the amazement of my simple mind). The wide, lovely Neuse River is less than a mile away (as the crow flies), where likeminded people water ski, swim, fish, and just cruise around in such fancy boats for fun and sinful pride. Because he will cease paying house rent in just over a month, he will use that money for boat payments instead, and thus wise remain just as financially strained (and never pay me rent).

Upon our mutual decision for this family to move into my house, I immediately get extremely busy working nights and Saturdays fixing up my old house to make it nicer for them, spending much money doing so. I paint most all interior walls and have carpet installed in both bedrooms. (I had previously painted the living room walls and had carpet installed.) The old central heating “furnace” was completely worn out. So, I have a new one installed, adding 1 or 2 ducts for better heating for them. It entailed much money, and much work that took up much time that I had rather use for Christian work and for fellowshipping with Christian friends in the area before I leave.

In October, I am among the several aviator officers that my squadron sends to a temporary camp (of tents and such) in the forest on down nearer to the coast, to conduct a training session of coordinating air strikes and other aerial operations among men on the ground, pilots in the air, and shipboard Navy and Marine personnel on a couple of small Navy ships just off the coast a few miles from where I will sleep nights, on the ground in a tent in the woods.

I’m designated to function as a pilot on the ground with various coordinating duties. That short training session (planned for 5 days or so) frustrated me, because I need to return to my house each afternoon to do much work into the night, preparing the house for my new squatters who will never pay their rent.

It was plenty uncomfortable sleeping on the ground in a small tent that first night. But that turned out to be the only night I spent there. Briefly search history, to read of the tense trouble that broke out in October 1973 regarding Israel. It broke out right when I went to this forest. Those Navy ships that were part of this training operation were ordered to immediately go to port, load up necessary men, weapons and supplies, and steam for the Middle East ASAP.

A non-aviator lieutenant buddy of mine (who was to sail on one of those ships) chatted sadly with me about suddenly being taken away from his wife. Such is military life. I (along with some other Marines, mainly pilots and navigators) were put on a cattle car and hauled back to Cherry Point. I wondered if my entire squadron would be ordered to fly our planes out to an aircraft carrier, to steam to the Middle East posthaste, causing me to go there instead of going to Japan. But My God worked against that happening. My Lord has Perfect Plans for me to go to Japan to preach Christ for the rest of my days on earth. Glory!

A lieutenant colonel (pilot) commanded this training in the woods that got abruptly aborted. Thus, I was around him several days (my first time to meet him), as he taught us in a classroom at Cherry Point, before they hauled us out to the woods. So let’s call him Lieutenant Colonel “Woods” ⑯. He will be transferred to Iwakuni a few months after I go there. In early 1975 (just before I leave Iwakuni), he will eject low-level from a malfunctioning TA-4 Skyhawk into the cold ocean waters near the base, and drown before he is soon pulled from the water. Just a few weeks before he dies, I will fly a 3-day “Round Robin” flight in the back cockpit, with him in the front cockpit of a TA-4, flying around to other Asian nations near Japan.

These days, I am frequently dropping into the squadron’s admin office to check on my orders to Japan, and to check on the exact date I should soon be promoted to captain. My buddy admin officer, good-natured Captain Russell, is always as helpful as he can be. Monthly, he follows the “numbers” of the 1^st lieutenants who are getting promoted to captains each month, and he estimates that my number will come up on 1 December this year. (And so, it does!) So, I begin looking forward to that promotion in just a few weeks. “Captain Yerby” sounds great, especially if the person being addressed as such is full of worldly pride and vanity!

Speaking of navigator Captain Russell, listen to a flying adventure he and I shared. (Regarding “excitement”, it ranks close to Kitty’s flying adventure as to dangerous excitement.) As I brief Captain Russell in the ready room on our 1 plane training flight, he asks me a favor. “My uncle has just bought a new house in (a certain city) in South Carolina. Let’s fly down there and see if I can spot his house.”

‘OK!’ So, after takeoff, I fly there first and get as low over town as flight rules allow, and fly as slowly as the heavy fuel load will allow, as we circle around in the area of the house, (Russ pointing out to me which way to go).

I’m pushing the stall limit with my slow speed, and as I roll in a little more bank in a turn, that heavy (full of fuel) Intruder stalls, and begins to plunge out of the sky toward the ground that is not so very far below. Horrors!

Instantly, I roll wings level and cob both throttles to full power. The plane was already in a dive because it had stalled. But I cannot immediately pull it up because that would keep stalling it. I watch airspeed build up as we loudly roar downward in a shallow dive toward town, and I soon slowly pull in back stick to begin climbing again, less than 2000 feet above the stores. “Let’s get out of here!” Russ and I both exclaim into the intercom as we each heave a great sigh of relief that we didn’t have to eject from the stalled A-6. I pilot us out of town ASAP, pointing that bird skyward at full throttle.

“And, Pilot In Command, you did report that aviation incident to your squadron’s Operations Officer upon returning to Cherry Point, did you not?”

‘NEGATIVE.’

“With such Pilot Clowns overhead, aren’t we ever so naïve to think that we are safe when inside our own houses?!”

‘AFIRMATIVE!’

Most all of October, in the most pleasant golden autumn climate, I visit friends I have made in Havelock, New Bern, Goldsboro, and such nearby towns and cities, to bid them Farewell. It’s a precious time that pulls at heartstrings! My most bless-ed stay by the sea side in North Carolina is ending. I am soon to be even closer to the sea side in Japan.

After my new tenants move into my house (and I am now staying in a BOQ room on base), I drop in on them 2 or 3 times just before departing. They feed me supper one night. That supper is the sum total I get in the way of 15 months of house rent from them. Their shiny new extravagant boat sets on its trailer in my yard. It sure looks out of place in my yard.

Pastor Outland asks me to preach on the last Sunday before I depart New Bern. I agree. So, after teaching the young adult SS class, I preach the sermon for the morning worship service. Thank God that The Holy Spirit powerfully touches hearts. After the sermon, many souls come forward to pray at the altar at invitation time. We are all greatly blessed by Our Lord’s Working amongst us this day. That Powerful Moving of the Holy Spirit assured me that God had called me to preach, and would bless my preaching. To God be the Glory! Thank Thee, Lord Jesus! We had Sunday dinner (lunch) at church after that service, the fellowship being ever so rich.

I had many “loose ends” to tie up at my house and at work (on the base), causing me to delay my planned departure 2 days or so. I continue to bid Farewell to friends, right up until I drive away on Thursday. My next-door neighbor family had been so kind to me. Little Susan (about 4 or 5 years old now) told me she would miss me. The young lady I dated and all her family had been most hospitable to me. I am deeply thankful to them all.

Thank Thee, Precious Lord Jesus, for a most blessed and rich two and half years by the sea side. It was most pleasant to have months of calm at the end of my stay here. Thank Thee, my Lord, for calling me to preach and for much Spiritual growth during this time. Amen!

(Of course, by far, this was my longest stay at one location, while serving in the Marine Corps stateside.)

When I finally depart New Bern in early afternoon, I drive south along near the coast till late bedtime, and then spend the night in a motel. Each time I am uprooted from where I have lived for months or a few years, tho My Lord graciously quells the anxiety that naturally wells up within my heart each time, I still get a taste (sampling) of that anxiety. That is especially true as I now depart from my New Bern house, because this planned zigzag trip of several legs over land and sea is destined to take me all the way to Japan. ‘What is to be…?’ I ponder.

I’m first going to Ft. Myers, Florida to visit the Tiptons. Upon reaching Florida the next day after the motel sleep, I angle across Florida toward its west coast, driving thru vast orange groves along the way. The sight of so many orange trees is impressive, showing me how an entire nation can drink orange juice for breakfast each morning. I spend about a week in Ft. Myers with the Tiptons. It’s an enjoyable time.

Leaving Ft. Myers, I drive to Birmingham, Alabama to visit Mrs. Mars. I don’t stay long, possibly only 1 night. I drive on to the Free Will Baptist Bible College in Nashville, Tennessee to visit it for the 1^st time ever. I consult with preachers on the staff that I had previously met in person as they preached in churches in the New Bern area. I tell them that likely I will be coming here to study in January 1975.

I look up students I know. Etta, a young lady I met at Pastor Bob’s church in Owasso, Oklahoma. Wade, whom I knew from Pleasant Acres church in New Bern. And last of all, in the early evening I visit my first cousin, Rick Cash. He grew up about 12 miles from where I grew up. Rick’s dad is Mother’s younger brother. Each visit is short. As I’m about to leave Rick’s house (he is now married), he gives me a copy of “The Sword of the Lord”. I had heard just a very little about it to date, and of its editor Preacher John R. Rice. It was of the Lord that Rick gave me that Christian newspaper. I’ll tell you more of that story later.

Leaving Nashville, I make my way to Daddy’s house near Vernon, Alabama (my boyhood home). The 2 weeks or so I spend in the Vernon area, are full as I visit with everyone I possibly can. I’m there for the Thanksgiving holidays, with “Old Fashioned Day” at my home church that Sunday. It’s good to be among church people I had known all my boyhood.

Growing up in a simple farm life (and other factors), resulted in simple-minded me being plenty apprehensive about traveling to the opposite side of this planet. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever see my boyhood home again! I could be thrust into a war somewhere in Asia at any time!’ Such was my apprehension at this time of such a major relocation for me. Thus, I try to savor all I possibly can of my birthplace and childhood, before launching into the unknown on the opposite side of this globe.

When I depart my hometown area for Japan, I plan to fly out on a commercial airliner from Memphis, Tennessee. Now I ponder what to do with my car while I am in Japan (just as I pondered what to do with my house in New Bern). If I come back from Japan to attend Bible school for a year or so, I will have little income while doing that (and possibly for quite some time after I start to preach). So, I want to keep driving this T-Bird as long as I can. A good friend in Vernon, Charles, tells me he has a building he can keep my car in, to keep it in the best shape possible. I thank Charles, and agree to that.

After many Farewells in the Vernon area, on an afternoon about November 27^th I drive to my brother’s (Joe and Mavis) house in Smithville, Mississippi, to make the very best of this last evening with them, before laying me down to sleep on the sofa in their living room.

In darkness early on the following morning, Joe gets into the T-Bird with me, to drive my car back to his house from the airport, and later take it to Vernon for Charles to store away. Chatting with Joe, I drive to the Memphis Airport, about a 2-hour drive in pouring, chilly rain as dawn breaks. Departing in the gloomy rain raises my apprehension about ever returning here safely.

Watching the car’s odometer as I drive along, I call out to Joe. ‘Look at this. The odometer is now turning over to 88,000 miles.’

It has been 4 and half years since I bought this new T-Bird near Auburn shortly before graduating from that university. It has been a joyful adventure traveling near and far in it, it being one of my most “treasured” physical possessions, a somewhat stabilizing factor and security blanket in those years of my young life, on the move.

I averaged driving the T-Bird just less than 20,000 miles per year, during which time I saw much beautiful scenery in our nation (and spent 1 or 2 nights in the car). That car was most pleasant to drive, particularly when pleasant passengers rode with me. I thank God for providing me such good transportation, and new, wonderful friends to ride with me each place I lived.

“Many shall run to and fro.” (Daniel 12:4) We end time generation folks are doing precisely as the holy prophet prophesied.

Arriving at Memphis Airport, I pull my 2 large bags out of the car, bid Farewell to Joe, and watch him drive away in my sharp-looking T-Bird. I never again see that nice car (neither do I ever miss it the least bit). Upon staying in Japan after getting my discharge from the Marine Corps at the base in Iwakuni, I soon write both Charles and Daddy separately, asking them to advertise the T-Bird for sale. Daddy found a buyer for it, and the money helped me pay my Japanese language school tuition. To God be the Glory!

U.S. History! A week or more before I left North Carolina, the price of gasoline started creeping up from its “standard” price of 33 cents (or so) per gallon. This rainy morning when I part from my Thunderbird for good, gas is probably 37 cents (or so) per gallon. Everyone is appalled at it getting “so expensive”, and look forward to this “burp” soon ending, and vehicle gasoline falling back down to its normal 33 cents or so, in that area. Dream on, Dreamer! Dream on!!

Little did we know then, that such cheap gasoline would soon be found only in history books (like this book you are now reading), and in our fond memories, and that soon buyers would spend much time waiting in long lines at gas stations to buy gasoline at 3 times that price, and would even be limited to buying only small amounts rationed each time.

My Lord was most gracious to me, to take me out of the U.S. just before fuel became a major problem to most souls in our nation for many months to follow. Also, for the following 10 years and 8 months or so, my Lord leads me to live in Japan without owning my own motor vehicle, but rather walking, and riding bicycles and public buses and trains. I was most abundantly blessed to experience that long period of a “car-less” carefree life.

I fly from Memphis, Tennessee to southern Arizona to visit my sister, her husband (Tom), and small son (Tommy). The cloudless, bright, clear sky over the Arizona desert lifts my spirits after the gloomy dark rainy morning departure from my brother’s house in Mississippi. I’m most glad to see Janiece and her family again, and greatly enjoy the time I spend with them, visiting nearby tourist attractions and such. Little Tommy is happy to see his Uncle Richard. I stay 2 or 3 nights with them and then fly on to Los Angeles on Saturday December 1^st.

On this day (1 December 1973), the Marine Corps promotes me from first lieutenant to captain. I am plenty happy to get that promotion in rank (and in pay).

“Congratulations, Captain Yerby!”

‘Thank you!’

Arriving in Los Angeles, I spend that night in a hotel. The following morning (Dec. 2), I depart LA International Airport on a Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet heading for a stop at Honolulu, Hawaii, before this same flight flies on to Tokyo. This is my 1^st time to be around that big bird, which is a quite new production that has not been in service long (making it somewhat famous at this time). Sitting inside it I muse, ‘This plane cabin is unbelievably gigantic! I have no desire to pilot such a monstrosity, especially with it packed full of eternal human souls, the pilot being responsible for their safety. I like flying the small, fast military jets with a total of only 1 or 2 souls aboard!’

(Reminiscing) When I was first told that I was to be sent to Japan, I disliked that intrusion into “my plans”. But by this time, as I now head across the earth’s widest pond (the Pacific Ocean), I am looking forward to the upcoming experience of living a year in Japan to learn of life there. ‘Seeing Japan will be a fantastic climax to my active-duty time in the Marines! Then I’ll return to the U.S. to live, study at a Bible college, and then become an evangelist for the rest of my life.’ Little did I know, that God was taking me to Japan to serve Him in this Asian land for the rest of my life. I am most thankful to My Lord for doing that with my life.

My upbringing in poverty (doing much strenuous manual labor on an old-fashioned farm) was a most blessed heritage that rewarded me with numerous benefits that last a lifetime (for example, a mind that is set on working, working hard!).

Next, college life was most enjoyable (as I have told you in plenty detail).

After college, it has been a most rich experience to live in 3 various locales in the U.S., going to church in each locale to meet and fellowship with Christians (while rising up to become a full fledged, fully qualified Navy/Marine pilot of jet attack warplanes).

Upon going out from my boyhood rural home at age 19, I chose a university in a small, quiet, lovely, southern Alabama town. Next, during my 4 years and almost 3 months of military active duty stateside, I belonged to the Marine Corps for them to throw me from pillar to post upon any whim of desire and decision of theirs. I am most blessed that I never had to live in, nor near to, a large city or metropolitan area during that time. I praise my God for intervening for me to thwart the Marine Corps’ attempt to send me to the southern California crowded coastal area of much abominable sin!

The 4 previous paragraphs proclaim (in a nutshell) my abundantly blessed life thus far, as this Jumbo Jet hauls me over the wide Pacific Ocean toward Hawaii. But by far, the best lays ahead, life in Japan as a missionary. However, on this flight “across the waters” at the start of December 1973, I have no idea that is what the future holds for me. I am thankful that I know my Creator Who holds the future! That is all sufficient.

I know that while stationed at Iwakuni for the upcoming 12 months, I will not undergo any additional (new) types of difficult, challenging pilot training (in the cockpit, up in the air), like the difficult night aircraft carrier landings practice and night air-to-air refueling, that I practiced at Cherry Point, in both the TA-4 Skyhawk and the A-6 Intruder. At Iwakuni, I will mostly do routine flying, practicing instrument and formation flying. Tho any pilot must always stay fully alert and highly cautious while piloting (in order to stay alive), I expect this last course of my piloting (at Iwakuni base) to be routine, and thus simple (in that one sense). That’s refreshing to think upon.

I know not what administrative jobs will be assigned to me as a captain, upon arriving at Iwakuni. But, by God’s Grace, I weathered the horrible jobs, and the unfair treatment, heaped upon me at times at Cherry Point. If such is to be heaped upon me now at Iwakuni, God will bring me thru it. And it is encouraging to know that the upcoming 12 months at Iwakuni is a much shorter time period than the time frame during which I endured the gross unfairness and the murderous villains at Cherry Point. (End of Reminiscing)

My plane lands at Honolulu during the daytime, but clouds obscure the lovely beach and island scenery below, for much of the time we descend into and then climb out from the airport after a layover of more than 2 hours. Being desirous to “see Hawaii”, I strain to catch short glimpses of the scenery thru breaks in the clouds as I peer out the plane’s tiny window, departing my native land for the 1^st time. So, at this point, let’s start the 3^rd major change in my life.

3a I travel (move, relocate) from my native land to the opposite side of the globe Earth, to an Asian nation, Japan, for 1 year of duty as a U.S. Marine Corps captain jet pilot; unaware that thereafter, for the remainder of my life on earth, I will exalt Jesus Christ, God’s Saviour to mankind, in the Buddhist nation of Japan.

Darkness overtakes us as we approach Japan, cross the International Date Line and thus Sunday becomes Monday 3 December. The vast majority of the passengers on this flight are Japanese, making me feel like I’m already in Japan as I fly with them. Before the “Fasten Seat Belts” sign lights up on our descent into Tokyo, many Japanese are standing up and walking around in the cabin to get the best view (thru the portholes) of the lights of Tokyo. Gasps of excitement escape from them upon each good sighting they get as the plane turns, goes thru thin clouds and such. (Nowadays, 51 years later, at such a time, they don’t even take their eyes off the high-tech gadget they are staring at. Tragically, the devil’s hi tech has destroyed the human soul.)

God gives us a safe landing at Haneda Airport about 8 PM. Alabama Barefoot Redneck Farm Boy Richard is now in the Land of the Rising Sun!

There are several of us U.S. military guys on this commercial airline flight, Air Force, Marines, and possibly Navy. Following orders and directions (from whom I forget), several of us load onto a bus that hauls us to Yokota Air Force Base at the edge of Tokyo.

As the bus winds thru some of downtown Tokyo on the elevated Metropolitan Express Highway, buildings are so very close to that Expressway in crowded Tokyo. As our bus travels this elevated expressway past the 2^nd or 3^rd floors of nearby office buildings, I peer into those lighted offices to see the workers, still inside, still working at close to 9 PM. ‘The Japanese must be hard workers.’ That was my 1^st main impression of the Japanese race just 30 minutes or so after leaving the airport. And it was a most accurate assessment of them. Made me want to be like them, which was beneficial to me.

Arriving onto Yokota AF Base, our bus driver in honor of rank, 1^st drives to the BOQ to drop off all of us officers, and then takes the enlisted men aboard the bus, on to their quarters. We officers go into the BOQ lobby to be assigned rooms for the night. Marine Captain Jim R. is on this flight with me from California. Just as I, he is being transferred from Cherry Point to Iwakuni. We 2 chatted together in the Honolulu airport on our layover there.

He was an A-6 Bombardier Navigator (BN) Instructor in VMT 202 at Cherry Point when I entered that training squadron in April 1972. As I trained in 202, he flew beside me in the navigator’s seat on several flights. So, we know each other well. He’s 4 years or more senior to me (as a Marine officer and also in age).

We officers arriving at Yokota this night, are being assigned to double rooms. Jim and I ask to room together, because we know each other. It’s after 11 PM by now, and with much jet lag I’m ready for a good night’s rest. We 2 soon each rack out in separate single beds.

Jim is a smoker. A while after I drift into sleep, I’m awakened by Jim coughing. So, he sits up in bed, lights a cigarette, smokes it, and then goes back to bed, repeating that pitiful routine a total of 2 or more times before we get up in the morning. The stinking smoke and coughing kept me awake much of the night, robbing me of needed rest; in addition to the smoke in the room making me feel bad. Later this morning (likely at breakfast together), I say something very low key to higher-ranking Captain Jim about him having to smoke during the night.

“I don’t smoke too much!” was his quick, adamant, defensive reply. I felt sorry for Captain Jim, seeing what his addiction to nicotine was like, and him denying the health danger he was in.

We have one whole day layover (Tuesday) at Yokota. The next “military” flight from Yokota to Iwakuni will be the following day (Wednesday 5 December 1973). That gives us this free day at Yokota (Dec. 4) with nothing to do. Jim and I walk around together on base and seeing a bicycle rental shop, we each rent a bicycle, pedal them out the base’s gate, and ride around in that city of Fussa to see what we might see. I think Captain Jim had been stationed in Japan before (or had at least passed thru Japan going to and from Viet Nam to fight in that war). Asia is not so new to him, as it is to me.

This is my 1^st time to see Asia, so this country boy is “all eyes”! Crowded Japan seems like a miniature world, most everything built by man being so compact and small in size, compared to spacious American life that I’m accustomed to. As Jim and I pedal along sidewalks, we come upon street construction (minor repair?). When I see a worker sitting on a tiny “front hoe” digging a small trench with it, I just naturally laugh at how small that machine is. ‘That looks like a toy a boy would find under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.’ Jim laughs with me.

From this day on, daily observing the Japanese around me, I see much wisdom in their lifestyle and their work methods; using the smallest machine that will do the job, and innovative methods to reduce required human energy. This day at this street repair site, I observe two workers team up to manually shovel slag. One end of a 10-foot rope is tied to the neck of the shovel held by one man. His teammate faces him holding the other end of the rope. The shovel holder places the shovel point into the desired spot on the pile of slag, but does not push it into the slag to get a shovel full. The shovel man only guides it as the rope man pulls the shovel, loading it, then pulls it more to free the shovel from the pile, and then relaxes his pull in good timing as the shovel holder now applies his muscle to lift the shovel and throw his shovel-full exactly where he wants it to go. In all my much manual labor to date, I had never seen anything like it before. It was fascinating and educating, valuably educating!

Upon arriving in Japan last night, I saw plenty of office workers still at work about 9 PM. Today (1^st full day in Japan), I observe their efficient methods of work that are new to me. I am quickly gleaning wisdom. And I’m thankful that what I saw rubbed off on me, causing me to work long and hard, while striving to use the most efficient methods on any and every job.

At every opportunity, I thrill to read of, or listen to missionaries thru out the world, tell of the things they see or experience that are unique to the nation where they minister. I hear some missionaries say that the locals they minister to, are generally lazy-natured. So, the missionaries there must buffet themselves not to let that tendency to be lazy rub off on them. Nowadays (2020) when I visit the U.S. for a while, I find myself musing…‘In general. Americans don’t go about their daily tasks as diligently as the Japanese do.’

The following day, 5 December, along with other military men, Jim and I board either an Air Force C-141 or a commercial airliner (I forgot which), to fly on to Iwakuni. Arriving at Iwakuni, a few of us deplane. Then that plane flies on to bases in Okinawa and possibly on to bases in the Philippines, bringing new arrivals to, and picking up military personnel departing from these Asian bases to return “home”.

Flying into Iwakuni, I peer out the plane’s window at the air base runway, with the ocean most close on one side, and ever so close to the end of the runway. Steep mountains are close on the opposite side of it. When I previously took off and landed in flat Oklahoma and flat coastal North Carolina, there were no steep mountains near the airfield inviting me to crash into them. ‘I’m going to have to be a careful pilot when I approach and depart this air patch, so as not to get plastered against a mountainside, especially at night!’

Upon landing and deplaning, a base taxi or small bus takes us officers from the small, simple terminal building to the BOQ office. I am assigned a room in which to abide. I walk to the room, put my 2 heavy bags into my area of the double room, and soon go to the nearby officers’ chow hall for supper. After eating, I set up a few of my things in my room, before soon falling asleep with jet lag (and after the previous 2 nights of Captain Jim’s smoke drifting into my lungs and his smoker’s cough assaulting my ears).

This is my 4^th major relocating, upon going out from my earthly father’s house, relocating to a Marine Corps Air Station in the Asian nation of oriental Japan, ever so far from Vernon, Alabama, approximately on the opposite side of the globe.

“Good night, Captain Yerby. Welcome to Japan! Yoku irasshai! Congratulations on your new promotion and on your new exciting assignment in Asia. More (and much longer) Asian adventures, and the richest of spiritual blessings await you, than you can possibly imagine tonight.”

The End of Chapter 27

On to Chapter 28

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