Chapter 29

THEY THAT MAKE THEM ARE LIKE UNTO THEM.

(U.S. Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan. Part 2. From 1 May 1974 thru 31 August 1974.)

The U.S.A. completed its military pullout of South Viet Nam at the end of March last year (1973), upon the communist enemy agreeing to stay put in the areas they presently occupied. And the enemy clearly promised not to wage offensive warfare to conquer more territory in South Viet Nam. As they smiled and shook hands upon completing that treaty, all the while, that treacherous, lying, deceitful enemy was busy planning to conquer all of South Viet Nam. They soon slowly began that aggression, and steadily sped it up as they saw that no nation on earth dare come back to defend freedom in South Viet Nam.

So, thru out 1974, we Marine officers here at Iwakuni stay keenly abreast of that rapidly deteriorating situation, thinking that possibly any time, a flash order might come from Washington, D. C., sending us rushing back into war in South Viet Nam. That prospect weighs quite heavily on our minds thru out this year. But likely U.S. President Nixon had already written them off, and firmly decided that our nation would simply stand by and do nothing, as South Viet Nam fell to murderous communism.

(I give the above “news bulletin” at the start of this chapter, and now continue with my personal daily life at this time.)

Thursday 2 May 1974: This morning my squadron (MABS 12) has a change of command ceremony. Our CO (Lt. Col. Carroll) is leaving, and our XO (Major E.) is replacing him as our commanding officer. For weeks I have been a key officer in planning this important ceremony, supervising practices of it, writing up its formal program, and such. More than 1 practice session was poorly performed. Thus, I’m plenty on edge this morn, and am much relieved upon seeing the entire ceremony go thru as planned with no embarrassing mistakes by anyone.

A few days ago, Captain Doug D. was transferred to MABS 12, to now become our executive officer as Major E. moves up to CO. Tho Doug is 4 to 6 years senior to me in rank and is also now my squadron’s executive officer, he treats me as a fellow captain, and is most fair to us officers under him. I’m careful to stay in my place, not trying to get too familiar with him as a fellow captain, seeing that he is years senior to me, and also my executive officer. Thus, Captain Doug and I get along together fine. Also, Major E. doesn’t require the impossible from me like the previous CO did at times. Thus, because of these changes at this time, life at work greatly improves for me, much to my relief.

Upon completing the change of command official ceremony in the morning, our squadron takes off work for an afternoon picnic to celebrate the change. Attendance at the picnic is not required, so I don’t attend. I ride a train SW to Yanai Station and walk the lovely countryside with rice paddies stair-stepped up steep hillsides where thick clusters of lovely, small, daisy-like flowers abound around the dike-like terrace borders of the flat paddies. Then I have a most fun time, playing with children whom I bump into on the narrow street of a village-like area, while the few rural adults nearby laugh at us kids as we play. That encounter is a treasured memory.

Tonight, my squadron is having a formal reception at the officers’ club related to the change of command of our CO. All of us officers in MABS 12 are required to attend. So, when I show up on time for it at 7:30 PM, as soon as my new CO (Major E.) sees me at the entrance, he gets up, comes to me and bluntly tells me to leave, because I am not a club member, and thus am not allowed to come into this club. That’s fine with me. I have no desire to be present at their drunkenness. So, I go eat my supper alone, quietly and relaxed, in the officers’ chow hall.

From 29 April thru 5 May is known as Golden Week in Japan, with 3 or more national holidays. In 1974, the Japan Communist Party is working hard trying to turn Japan into a communist nation. On May Day (the 1^st day of May), it is the custom of Japan’s communist party to be highly visible and active in public with rallies, speeches, and such.

Monday 6 May: A holiday, as Sunday was the 5^th. That day’s annual Open House at Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni is open to the public. As we had previously planned together, 3 mothers bring their handicapped children from House of Sun. Izumi and Reiko come with them. Frank, Bob, and I (in uniform), show these Japanese friends around base for 4 hours or so, eating lunch with them in my office. (They bring lunches. I get my office complex key from squadron duty clerk, so we can eat in quiet comfort here with a restroom available also.)

Aircraft are on “static display” for all visitors to look at, take pictures of, and such. I show “my” TA-4 and A-6 to my Japanese friends, in my snazzy uniform for this fun event. We take pictures of me with the children in their wheelchairs in front of these 2 planes I fly. Later I give them copies of the photos. They happily take them! This is a fun day for us all!

Each year during the 1970’s, communist party members show up in mass (in opposition to US military presence), when U.S. military bases in Japan hold an annual Open House. This morning when I met my Japanese friends at the gate to guide them in, many young communists (each one’s face well hidden behind a broad red cloth mask) were outside the gate passing out their literature to everyone. They came on base (wearing their masks), along with the rest of the public. It made my blood boil to see them taking many close-up pictures of the entire exterior of each of our aircrafts. Supposedly there’s nothing secret about the aircraft that is visible to their cameras. Thus, our military permits such picture taking. Of course, communist nations never allow such on their military bases.

Tuesday 7 May 1974: I previously asked to take this day off from work. Permission granted. I arise most early to catch the 7:02 AM special express train southwest to Fukuoka City, a 4-hour ride. Exiting the station, I take a taxi to the U.S. Consulate about 3 miles away, to apply for a U.S. passport for the 1^st time in my life. At that time, U.S. military personnel on foreign bases did not need a passport to travel to that nation and be stationed there in the military. Also, this was long before terrorists made war on our nation. So, I just arrive unannounced (no appointment), check thru the low-key security, with passport size pictures and my military ID card. They quickly process my application, and an hour or so later, hand me my 1^st passport ever. About 10 months later, I become a resident of Japan, and have had to maintain a current U.S. passport ever since. Strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

I walk the 3 miles or so back to Fukuoka Train Station, because I know the general direction, and enough Japanese words to ask directions along the way (if need be). Checking the time for the next express train headed for Iwakuni, I walk out of the station, find a small playground not far away, and end up playing with children there till train time. Fun adventure, in this foreign land! I arrive back at Iwakuni about 8 PM, joyful that this redneck ploughboy now possesses a passport.

The following morning (Wednesday 8 May), I sit on a promotion board interviewing prospective Marines and making my recommendations. When it ends, I hasten (walking) to a different building where my Corporal R.’s court martial is under way, and I am called as a character witness, because I am his officer-in-charge. (He was definitely a “character”.) (Back on 28 March, I wrote of him being charged with forgery and theft.) Verdict is “Guilty”. He is busted in rank and fined.

Along about now, I am granted official permission to be exempt from joining the base’s officers’ club (open mess). Most officers, who become aware of that, look down on me for not paying the monthly club fee (about $10), and not joining them in their frequent drunken revelries at the club. Refusing to join puts me in a bind, because my CO requires me to attend his monthly dinners for his officers (and other similar formal dinners) held in the club. So, they hedge by allowing me into the club as a paying guest on such occasions, tho doing so is basically against the rules.

But I told you how that Major E. put a stop to that a few days ago as soon as he became our new CO. When I walked away from him that night, I then walked to the officers’ chow hall (closed mess), ate a nice supper alone at one table (in peace), and retired to my private room in peace, to fellowship with my Lord Jesus Christ, The Prince of PEACE.

The previous 2 paragraphs lay a background to events of May 10 and 11. On Friday (the 10^th), an enlisted Marine comes to my office to inform me that Group 12’s executive officer (Lieutenant Colonel H.), has commanded me to report to him in his office below on 1^st floor. I have never before been summoned to his office. He has never before talked to me personally. Thus I sense this is something big.

So, I go down, report to him in snappy Marine style, and he immediately proceeds to put me further down with strong language saying I am the lowest Marine on earth for not wanting to be a part of the officers’ club. I silently endure all his harsh ranting. He finally allows me to go back up to my workplace upstairs, where my Bible lies in open view on this captain’s desk. Glory! (All officers in Group 12 plan a stag “bash” at the club tonight. This high-ranking Group officer is highly perturbed over me refusing to be a part of that sin.)

‘So be it, pompous prestigious Colonel! I didn’t join the Marine Corps to become a pitiful, worthless drunkard! I joined to defend my country in a most sober proficient manner!’

Reader Friend, you recall (back at Cherry Point) my drunken driver, wife beating staff sergeant, and later the pitiful young corporal I took to AA with his drinking problem. Colonel H., you call me the lowest Marine, because I’m sober and upright. But you drunkard, you are lower than a slimy toad weasel rat, sinfully shacked up in adultery here with a local whore, your wife back in the States!

“Tale-Teller Boy, I’ve never seen a slimy toad weasel rat.”

‘Rest assured you don’t want to see one of those loathsome creatures! But come to think of it, they look a lot better than a drunkard, adulterous Marine Corps lieutenant colonel berating me, because I refuse to drink the addicting poison of alcohol!’

Now get this, Reader Friend, the very next morning, Saturday 11 May, I arise at 5:15 AM to ready myself to fly co-pilot today on an “out and in” (to and back from another base). I chow down on an early breakfast in the chow hall, and report to “Hams” for our 2-plane flight briefing with its 4 pilots. (I am one of those 4.) But here is the drunken clincher. Upon arriving on time for the 6:30 AM briefing (spry and alert after a good night’s sober rest), I’m told that late last night at the bar in the officers’ club, Colonel J. made the decision to postpone the early flight, and set the briefing for 8 AM instead (likely hoping by that time he’ll recover well enough from his hangover to pilot a small, fast jet warplane). (No one bothered to inform Sunday School Pilot Boy Richard of the time being postponed.).

Sober Me is well capable of piloting a jet warplane early this morn, because I never drink alcohol (and I got sufficient sleep). But my reward for always being sober (and thus always at maximum proficiency as a Marine jet attack pilot), is that my Group Executive Officer rails on me as being the lowest of Marines. But it is routine for a much higher-ranking colonel to postpone training for war, because of a drunken hangover. And no one reprimands him for such poor performance of duty.

“No drinking alcohol within 24 hours before flying” was a rule we pilots and navigators were to adhere to. But most drinking cohort pilots just laughed and joked about that rule as they sat drinking in the officers’ club late into the night before they fly the next morning.

Perchance, an enemy nation hit our nation (the U.S.), or Japan, or South Korea, with a sneak attack. We pilots here at Iwakuni might get a flash command at 2 AM on a Saturday or Sunday (just after boozing pilots retire in a stupor from their late night of boozing), to immediately man our aircraft, fly them to the nearest stockpile of nuclear weapons (likely aboard an aircraft carrier), affix 1 nuclear bomb under the belly of each aircraft, and then fly fast at very low level just above sea and land, to drop that nuclear bomb on an enemy target.

Being always sober, I would be at my peak performance for such a crucial and demanding task. But there is no telling how disastrously those drunkards would fail to perform on short notice as war pilots (especially if they arise from a drunken stupor sleep only 2 or 3 hours after ending a night of boozing, to rush and fly into war). Still, one of those high-ranking boozers “chews me out” for not partaking with them.

‘No way will I drink poison alcohol, Colonel!’

One morning, my Staff Sergeant McDonald shows up at work shaking his head in disgust, telling me that a drunkard gunnery sergeant in his barracks had awakened in the middle of night, urgently staggered for the “head” (toilet), but relieved himself in the barrack’s hall instead, and just left the puddle of stink there and went back to bed.

Occasionally, such puddles of urine stink were abandoned on floors, and pools of vomit stink were abandoned on tables or floors, resulting in other Marines having to clean up the stink. But Colonel H. calls me the lowest Marine for totally avoiding the possibility of becoming such a stinking, shameful, disgraceful, useless drunkard Marine officer. Say what you will, Colonel H. But by God’s Grace, I’ll totally abstain, always living sober and upright. Young man and woman reading this, purpose in your heart to also do as I.

It was 1974 when Colonel H (well over a decade older than I), spat out his serpent-like venomous words at me. As I pen these words 50 years later in 2024, in good health at age 78, likely he is in the eternal flames of Hell longing for 1 drop of water to cool his parched mouth, wishing he could now speak with me to you on this eternal vital matter of demon rum. Reader Friend, don’t choose the pleasures of sin for a season. The soon-to-come Hell-fire is forever, my dear friend.

Anyway, on this day (Saturday), I fly co-pilot in the back cockpit. Colonel J. (who delayed our flight to give him more time to recover from his hangover), is pilot in the front cockpit of my airplane. We fly formation with another TA-4 to Okinawa and back, returning about 5 PM. Both ways, I bask in the lovely view of ocean and islands. Thrilling adventure!

Back in the BOQ, I shower, change into clean civvies, eat supper in the chow hall, and walk well over a mile to the Christian Center off base, longing for good Christian fellowship after such a day. But the worldly activities there soon send me hiking back to base to fellowship with my Lord alone with Him in my single room. Such glorious solitude! My Lord Jesus, how Precious Thou art, on this pilgrim journey thru the devil’s world to Thy Glorious Celestial City! Glory!

Sunday afternoon, 12 May at House of Sun, Reiko gives me a pocket size notebook with Japanese sentences she has written, along with the English meaning. She encourages me to study Japanese hard. I thank her for that language help.

The very next day at work (Monday the 13^th), I start practicing writing Kanji characters used in Japanese writing. At 5:30 PM, I brief with Pilot Pitman for a night flight in which I shoot 3 GCAs (ground-controlled approaches) from the rear cockpit. Upon returning to “Hams” ready room about 9 PM, the flight scheduler tells me he will give me a “cross country” flight this weekend to bases in nearby nations. I welcome that news, looking forward to the new adventure of exploring more of Asia. High-Flying Farm Boy in Wonderland!

Tuesday 14 May: During my year at Iwakuni, I’m to serve 6 months in MABS 12, and then transfer to the A-6 tactical squadron to get more flight time, and to always be pilot-in-command in the A-6’s one cockpit with a navigator sitting beside me, 2 most lucrative points. That transfer is scheduled for the end of this month. Getting stuck in MABS upon arriving here (and with things then terribly turbulent in MABS), I so looked forward to the time of this transfer out of that troublesome place, and into a flying squadron to pilot the A-6 much, an adventure I greatly enjoy.

But with passing time, my desire changed, mainly due to 2 factors.

1. Things are now getting smoother in MABS 12.

2. As I occasionally drop into the A-6 tactical squadron building on business, I observe it to be a most unpleasant workplace. Housed in a small, crowded flimsy clapboard building (shack) (with no insulation, soundproofing, or air conditioning, as best I recall). Located on the flight line (concrete deck all around). All day, the noise of the jet engines nearby is horrible. Summer is upon us. It will be hot inside (plus noisy all around). Also, I know not what jobs they will assign to me. The office jobs they dump onto me might be much more “high-key” and stressful than where I am now.

At MABS 12, I have a quiet, spacious office in this stately old wood frame building with large windows I can open in hot weather. Out front is a lovely grass lawn with a short row of small trees along its front. Few Marines work in my section. Often, I’m the top-ranking officer (Top Dog) present in this section. The workplace atmosphere is plenty calm. We have our own fridge, where I keep various health foods and juice. The small bowling alley on site makes and sells hot sandwiches in their snack bar. Thus, I typically eat a light healthy lunch at my work desk, while studying Japanese in the relatively quiet environment. I regularly jog 3 miles atop the nearby seawall, and can keep a change of clothes for that in my office locker.

So today (14 May), I stroll down to the XO’s office to ask Captain Doug for permission to remain here in MABS for the remainder of my time at Iwakuni. He assures me that will be approved with no problem. I’m most pleased to hear that, and I pray for God to make it reality. Most pilots want to be in the tactical squadrons with the airplanes to fly much, and will be glad for me to stay in MABS in the stead of one of them.

Thursday 16 May: To date it has been typical for my CO to have all us officers meet with him at the start of every workday, 6 days a week (with very few exceptions). To my great relief, our new CO now says 3 times a week will suffice (Mon., Wed. & Fri.). Thus, this morn (Thursday) is most pleasant without that meeting. After a morning of office work, I fly as copilot on a short hop in the afternoon. After supper in the chow hall, I study Japanese language in the night class. Life in Japan is splendid, and getting better by the week, thank God!

Friday 17 May 1974 is a most blessed day of new adventures in Asia. Last night I packed a small bag. This morning, I dress in my flight gear, and take that bag with me to “Hams” pilots’ ready room for a 7:30 AM briefing. Four of us pilots fly two TA-4s to Osan Air Force Base in South Korea. As soon as Korea comes into view, I gawk at its much bleak terrain. We land at Osan and debrief. I promptly check into the BOQ, am assigned a room, shower, change, and head out the gate walking out into town to shop, much cheaper than Japan.

When in the Philippines, I never go off base because of the prostitutes, beggars, and thieves waiting just outside the gate. The same await me outside the base’s gate here in Korea. But men’s clothing and shoes are most cheap here, so I want to buy some. As soon as I walk thru the gate, the 1^st prostitute entwines her arm with mine, calling on me to come to her place. ‘No! No! No!’ I firmly assert as I keep walking. When she releases me, the next woman entwines her arm in mine for a repeat of the above. Next, I encounter 1 or 2 beggars and 1 con man. Horrible! I give each beggar a little money, get on with my shopping, and am most relieved to soon get back onto base. What an unpleasant ordeal, outside the gate!

Upon walking thru the gate into the base, almost immediately a Korean Air Force Major in uniform walks up to me to ask me where the base chapel is. (He assumes I’m stationed here and that I know the base well, when actually, just a few hours ago I dropped out of the sky onto his nation for the very first time in my short life.) However, I had previously noticed the chapel as I departed the base on foot. So, I told him I am going in that direction, and will show him where it is. He said there is a service at the chapel tonight, and asks me to attend. I am delighted with this Godly invitation (after wading thru those sinful dregs out in town). I am also starving (having eaten very little this day as I rushed about). I tell him that I will go eat supper at the officers’ club and join him in the chapel promptly. I do that, arriving in the chapel after the service started. I spot that Korean major, and go sit on the pew beside him for the remainder of the service.

The service was a blessing! When it ends and the other souls are leaving, he says to me (as we 2 still sit on the pew), “Let’s pray!” So, I pray in English, and then he prays in Korean. He tells me his family name is Chung. I tell him my name. “Let’s pray!” So again, we each pray. After this prayer time, he tells me that he is a pastor, and that he plans to soon get out of the Korean Air Force to serve the Lord full time. “Let’s pray!” Each time, he prays with such fervency it puts me to shame.

“I want to show you, my church. Will you come with me?”

‘Yes, Sir. That would be nice.’ Joy floods my heart! What an uplifting change after my previous encounter with the sinners waiting outside the gate for a simple and gullible GI. His church is about a quarter of a mile from the gate. It is night now. But no street person accosts me now, because I am with this Korean AF major who is in uniform. His church building is quite large. He takes me into it, but doesn’t turn on any lights as we sit down in a near pew. “Let’s pray!”

I don’t recall how many prayer sessions we had in his dark church before he soon says, “Come to my house.” It is a small shack (adjacent to the church), that speaks of poverty. He says the church kindergarten teachers are having a meeting in an education room near the church, and that his wife is now at that meeting. Entering his humble house, he calls his 2 daughters and one son into the living room to introduce them to me. The boy is the youngest at 5 or so. The oldest girl appears to be 10 or so. They are so precious, and each of them is as quiet as a church mouse in my presence. He brings out a bottled coke and sets it before me.

Major Chung earnestly speaks to me of Spiritual matters, asking me again and again to pray for Korean Christians, and to ask Christians in the U.S. to pray for them. We left his house about 10:30 PM. He walked with me past the gate into the base and bade me Farewell there in the open, repeatedly asking me to pray for him and Koreans. Thus, it was late when I pillowed my head in this Korea BOQ room after a full day of unbelievable blessed adventures my very 1^st day in Korea.

That local, zealous Korean pastor Air Force major had never before been to that U.S. military base chapel. This Alabama farm boy had never ever been in the nation of South Korea. Yet our Lord gave us this most blessed fellowship time together tonight. “I stand amazed in the Presence, of Jesus the Nazarene…” as the song goes.

I arise early the following morn (Sat. 18 May), to eat breakfast in the officers’ club, and then walk to base flight operations to help file our flight plan for this morning’s flight. Going out to the 2 airplanes, the ground crew had not put oxygen (for us to breathe) into our planes. We prod them to get on with it. They break a wire in 1 bird as they are filling the oxygen bottles, and we have to wait for them to repair that. We finally take off, and fly the 2-bird formation to Naha, Okinawa (Japan), eat a bite as they refuel the birds, and fly on to Cubi Point (Philippines), to bed down in the BOQ where I slept before (when I came here at the end of January to fly A-6s).

Sunday 19 May: I don’t get to attend church this Lord’s Day. Up early, breakfast, and go thru all the procedures necessary to leap back into the air again in 2 screaming jets. We fly to Naha, Okinawa to refuel. Weather report for Iwakuni is bad. So, we wait a couple of hours while the weather there improves. Upon takeoff from Naha, when the pilot of the other bird raises his landing gear, the cockpit gear indicator doesn’t indicate “Safely up and locked” for 1 main gear. He radios that to us. We two pilots in my bird drop our bird under his, carefully look over his landing gear doors, and radio him that they appear to be closed in place. My bird gets in place on his wing. We slow both birds for a pilot in each plane to recycle the landing gear (drop it and raise it again in unison). Both planes must do it in order to fly together at the same speed. This time, the cockpit gear indicator of the fellow plane shows safely up and locked. So, we proceed on home to Iwakuni. I eat supper in my own chow hall, and pillar my head in my own room on Sunday night, after plenty of adventure in the skies over Asia, and in a Korean town, fellowshipping with a zealous Korean Christian pastor. The zenith of fun and blessings! Thank Thee, Sweet, Precious Jesus!

The very next day (Monday), “Hams” gives me a morning flight on which I view much lovely mountain scenery below, as we fly over several points in Japan and back to home base. I take the afternoon off (having flown much since Friday). I ride the train to Hiroshima to spend a relaxing afternoon there.

“Must be nice, Pilot Boy, taking off from work when you want to.”

‘I certainly agree!’

The informal Japanese language classes at the cultural center just outside the gate have been a decent start for me. But when I hear that the University of Maryland has a formal, accredited university class on base, I eagerly await the date to sign up for the next quarter’s classes.

Tuesday 21 May 1974: That registration is today. So, I register for Introduction to Japanese 101 that carries 3 university credit hours. Joy floods my entire being as I register to study the Japanese language more earnestly. After that, I pack my gear to fly on a C-117 cargo prop plane to Kadena, Okinawa today. The bird is late, making this a night ride arriving Kadena at 11:30 PM on this flying old tin can. All BOQ rooms are taken. So, they call Tiger Hotel off base. Tiger sends a station wagon for a few of us officers who spend the night there at Uncle Sam’s taxpayers’ expense. “That’s me!!”

Wednesday 22 May: I attend classes on the effects of high altitudes on my body, and then take a “ride” in the pressure chamber. My fellow pilots and navigators with me also take a shot in the practice ejection seat. I tell the ones in charge about my old back injury, and thankfully they exempt me from that shot. This day’s training is the reason I came to Kadena.

Upon finishing it, we board a C-117 to fly back to Iwakuni. But as we are taxiing out to the runway, tower calls to say they are canceling our flight to Iwakuni because of bad weather there. We taxi the plane back in. A Japanese driver chauffeurs us to a different hotel off base for the night. 1^st Lt. Phil calls on me to go to a nearby steak house with him for supper. So, I do. He is studying Japanese seriously (further along than I), and we both use our Japanese to the extent of our abilities as we enjoy eating out (in Japan). We all fly back to Iwakuni the next day, 23 May, and upon arriving, I work all that afternoon.

Monday 27 May 1974: I take this day off from work, ride the train to Hiroshima and meet Reiko there. Previously, she told me that there is a Christian bookstore in Hiroshima. I ask her to take me to it today. I buy a bilingual English-Japanese New Testament, so joyful over obtaining that possession!

We go to Hiroshima University where Reiko is a student, for her to briefly show me the campus. Then we go to a hospital (located on a hill overlooking the city), which specializes in treating radiation victims from the atomic bomb blast less than 29 years ago. Reiko’s older sister works in this hospital. I meet her for the 1^st time. As I sit outside on a bench with Reiko, overlooking this historic city’s lower area where the bomb detonated, proudly gazing on that new Japanese Bible in my hands, I ask her if she had ever read the Bible.

“No. I am not a Christian,” she replied so matter-of-factly. In the U.S., the worst of sinners might boast of rejecting Christ the Saviour. But “decent” lost people typically hung their head in shame, when they had to admit that they were not a Christian, most of them knowing that makes them a lost, Hell-bound sinner. But “decent” Reiko, totally unaware of the eternal fate of all souls who die outside of Christ, calmly confessed to not being a Christian in the same manner as she would confess to not being a Chinese. It broke my heart!

Tonight, is my 1^st Japanese class with the University of Maryland, and I am late getting back on base because of spending much time with Reiko. I enter the classroom tardy, so glad to start it and to get my new textbook tonight for this class. The Japanese lady teacher is fluent enough in English to explain things to us in English. That helps much. I launch into this language study with vigor. When class ends about 9 PM, I go to my room to intercede for lost Japanese souls till 2 AM.

Being busy today, I had only eaten breakfast. So, I start a fast for the first time in my life (after breakfast on Monday, and end it by eating breakfast on Wednesday). Then on Wednesday, I run 6 miles as I work out the physically unfit Marines in my squadron. I go to my 2^nd UOM language class on Wednesday night, as it meets 2 nights a week for either 2 or 2 and half hours each time. Also, by God’s Grace, I start fasting periodically, and often praying desperately and brokenheartedly for lost Japanese during evenings till after midnight. I also beg God to let me serve Him in this nation of Japan, holding forth the Word of Life to the masses of lost souls in this land of idols. Thank Thee, Almighty Lord God, for mightily stirring up my heart in this manner. Please call me to the honor of serving Thee in Japan!

In early June, rainy season sets in, bringing much rainy weather till mid-July, with humid, muggy, uncomfortable heat.

I am Group Duty Officer on Thursday 6 June. So, after working my desk job all day, I go downstairs at 5 PM, assume the Duty as all the day workers leave, do the evening duties of eating in the enlisted chow hall to inspect their chow, and later I inspect the guards on the flight line. At 11:30 PM, I rack out to sleep in a side room in Group Headquarters.

From then till 6:30 AM, the duty clerk awakens me 7 times, Wing calling each time, having received secret, priority messages that I must read to decide if my Group will take action on the message. Each time, I walk over to Wing to read a report from a U.S. spy plane over Cuba reporting on Soviet buildup in Cuba. That spy plane was busy, snapping photos. Soon after I again pillow my head, I am again awakened to go read the next secret message. None of them called for me to declare war on Cuba, or instigate any action in the middle of the night, being this far from Cuba. But I get practically no sleep this night.

Upon getting relieved of Group Duty at 8 AM on Friday, I work my regular jobs till early afternoon, even running the “unfits” 3 miles for PT. I brief the few Marines in my office as to their work for the afternoon, and walk to my BOQ shortly after 1 PM, most weary, and looking forward to a most needed rest in my room. As I enter the hall on my floor, the hallway phone is ringing. I answer it, certain that it is not for me.

But it was “Hams” flight ops officer saying he needs me to come hop into a rear cockpit now, to fly to Osan, Korea for the night. I tell him I’m not up to it because of a busy night last night as Group Duty Officer. He says there’s no other pilot available for it, and that I had better take it if I want him to keep giving me the minimum flight time I need, to draw my monthly flight pay. In reality, other pilots who could fill this slot had already planned a Friday night of drinking in Iwakuni. In such cases, they always look for a scapegoat. “Nice Christian Captain Yerby doesn’t drink, so stick him with it, no matter how weary he is after working 30 hours straight. If he balks, threaten to hold back his required minimum flight time.”

So, I suit up in my flight gear, hustle over to “Hams” for the briefing, and take off after 4 PM in the rear cockpit of the lead bird with a lieutenant colonel in the front cockpit. About 50 miles out (with the colonel at the controls), my bird loses all electrical power (not engine power). The emergency procedure we pilots are required to memorize for this emergency, is to instantly drop the RAT (ram air turbine), a small back up electric power source for such emergencies. But that colonel pilot is senile enough to freeze up and do nothing. I cannot talk to him from the back seat on the intercom, because of loss of electric power. I too have a release handle in my rear cockpit for the RAT. So, I pull the handle, releasing the latch on the small door of the RAT built into the side of the plane below the cockpits, letting the RAT rotate out into the air stream which starts the RAT’s small propeller whirling, producing juice to light up our instrument panel, allow us to talk on the intercom & radio, and such.

We transfer the lead to the other bird; declare an emergency, and both birds return to Iwakuni where my bird makes an arrested landing with hook down (to catch the cable across the runway), because our wing flaps don’t lower with reduced electric power. Going into the ops office, “Hams” schedules me to fly to Naha, Okinawa tomorrow morning (Saturday). I get a shower in the BOQ, eat supper in my chow hall, and turn in to my own bunk, most weary.

“Nothing but one exciting adventure after another! Right, Marine Pilot Captain Yerby?!”

‘Zzzzzzzz.’

Saturday 8 June 1974: Early in the morning, four of us pilots start the engines in 2 different TA-4s. One bird has 2 different systems that will not come up to par. So, we have to cancel our flight plan to fly to Okinawa and back today.

“Pilot Captain Yerby, I surmise that Marine airplanes are not always kept in the best state of repair.”

‘You surmise correctly.’ Seriously, the Marine Air Wings were not funded nearly as well as the U.S. Air Force. Almost always strapped for funds, aircraft maintenance suffered, especially in a peacetime setting.

I walk from “Hams” squadron to my office to work till noon this Saturday, and then go to the orphanage in the afternoon. A few other Marines and young Japanese come separately. We play much with the children there, and head back to Hiroshima in small groups. Reiko tells me there is a large festival in Hiroshima tonight. She takes me to the area of town where several streets are blocked off to vehicular traffic. Such a mass of human souls (as I have never seen), is milling around the festival festivities. After much walking, Reiko and I sit and talk. She asks me serious questions about God.

“Why does God make crippled children?” She asks me in English. Now that is a most reasonable question. If God be good, why doesn’t He create each baby in good health. I am not yet able to explain well (in Japanese), that Eve and Adam’s sin “crippled” the human race in many tragic ways. I try to explain in simple English that she will hopefully comprehend, while determining anew to study Japanese furiously till I can teach such important truths freely in their language. I have a most rewarding long Saturday out in Japan, going to bed with joy overflowing at 1:30 AM Sunday morning.

“Gallivant Warrior Of The Skies,

“Guarding our Freedoms as he flies.

“Late night gallivanting with Hiroshima University Co-eds bringeth no complaint.

“SO different from your grumbling of late-night military duty, which stank!”

‘Quiet, please! Gallivant Warrior needeth his beauty sleep.’

“Me thinketh Gallivant Warrior be a Creep!!”

Thursday 13 June 1974: Group 12 stands down from all flying for safety inspections of aircraft by the Marine mechanics that maintain them, and for safety lectures for us pilots and navigators. 1^st Lt. Mike gives a safety lecture, telling of him having to eject from a malfunctioning A-4 shortly after takeoff, back in South Carolina a year or 2 ago. I trained with Mike in VMT 203 at Cherry Point, and then we went our separate ways to again meet up here at Iwakuni. Today, we two enjoy chatting, mainly to catch up on old news.

Today, Mike tells me that it was (Midshipman) Kurt ⑤ that was the pilot of the Harrier that crashed killing the pilot. Previously I have told you about Kurt. I had heard about the fatal Harrier crash in South Carolina (I think), but didn’t hear the pilot’s name. Recently, here at Iwakuni, I overheard a lieutenant colonel discussing that crash with 2 majors. “It was a terrible breech of rules for flying that Harrier, the way he approached the landing pad at too high a speed, and abruptly tried to transition from horizontal flight to vertical flight. If I had been his CO, I would have had his wings, if he had lived!”

As Kurt tried to transition (at too high a speed) from horizontal flight to vertical flight (for a vertical landing), it caused the Harrier to roll 90% or slightly more to one side just above the landing pad. Kurt reacted by ejecting. His ejection seat rocketed sideways from the tilted airplane into nearby trees, crushing and instantly killing Kurt. It was most dumb of him to approach too fast, and it cost him his life. When Mike told me that Kurt was the pilot, Mike said Kurt was known for dumb actions when piloting a plane. This last, fatal dumb action abruptly ended all his actions on earth.

Speaking of the new Marine Harrier jet aircraft with vertical landing capability, that bird soon makes my stay at Iwakuni plenty HAIRY for the next few months. Early this summer an assignment comes down to MABS 12 to set up and operate a Harrier landing site in the jungle near Cubi Point Naval Air Station in the Philippines. There, Cubi based Harrier pilots will train. My commanding officer (Major E.) calls me into his office to tell me that he is putting me in charge of that assignment, and that I will soon deploy to the Philippines to be there till November or so.

That sudden news is a most unwelcome shock! My heart has steadily become attached to Japan. And now my CO says I am to be sent away from Japan for practically the remainder of my time in Asia. So, I cry out to my God to deliver me from that, if it be His Will, just as He delivered me from being sent from North Carolina to sordid southern California. Praise God that it was His Will to do so! To make a long story short, Almighty God miraculously intervened, and the CO sent a more senior captain (Captain Jay) instead.

I marvel at how suddenly that proposed change of duty stations for me popped up. I equally marvel over God doing away with it to allow me to stay at Iwakuni, so I can continue Japanese language study, and visiting with Japanese off base who have become my friends. Thank Thee, my Mighty Lord, for working mighty miracles for me!

During the following weeks, a good number of MABS 12 Marines deploy from Iwakuni to the Philippines, including the CO spending weeks at a time in the Philippines to oversee that important project. So, with only a skeleton crew here at Iwakuni, my workplace becomes quieter. I have less to do. Daily I do my work well, and sit in my quiet, spacious office with my Bible and Japanese language studies, thanking God for my workplace becoming ever so peaceful. A calm.

Saturday 15 June 1974: I co-pilot 1 of two TA-4s to Osan AFB in Korea, spend about 3 hours on the base, not going out in town, and fly back to Iwakuni.

When I was previously stationed at various military bases in the U.S., I always sought out a good church off base to attend, because base chapel services lacked spiritually. Here at Iwakuni, I felt I had no other choice besides base chapel. But the much ungodliness there grievously vexes my soul. About this time, in Sunday School class one day, I smell cigarette smoke. I look back to see a Marine sitting in the rear of the room, smoking during SS. That is just one example of various ungodly things that occur regularly in base chapel services.

I learn of Ootake (Big Bamboo) Baptist Church just a few stations from Iwakuni Station. So, on Sunday 16 June, I ride the train there to attend a Japanese church for the first time, with the 11 Japanese who attend this day. Tho I don’t understand much Japanese, I readily see that the service is dead and formal. But I can sing the hymns in Japanese because I can read all the “hiragana” letters by now, and I listen closely to the sermon and all else they say, to improve my hearing ability of their language. They are most friendly to me, and I enjoy being in church with them. From this date on, I start attending this church most Sundays that I am on the ground in Iwakuni.

Monday 17 June: Japanese language tracts arrive from Missionary Russell Stellwagon who lives in Gifu Prefecture. Reading John Rice’s Sword Of The Lord (Christian newspaper), I learn that his tract “What Must I Do To Be Saved” is available in Japanese. So, I write to the “Sword” asking for it. Their reply is for me to get the tracts from Bro. Russell, and they give me his address in Japan. I write him requesting tracts, and it’s a joy today when 100 or so of the tracts arrive from Brother Russell, and I start giving them out to Japanese friends.

Brother Russell sends me a kind letter with the box of tracts. I begin to correspond with him, and tell him that the Lord is leading me to stay in Japan as a missionary. He rejoices with me, and encourages me to follow the Lord’s leading. A missionary living here in Iwakuni is in my Japanese language class on base. When I tell him of God’s Leading, he shakes his head at such a “far out” idea. Brother Russell’s words of wisdom help me much. I am most thankful for God bringing him into my life at this exactly needed time to undergird me.

Wednesday 19 June: Upon arriving at work, I learn that a Marine in admin (my squadron) got drunk last night, came into his workplace (our admin office), and punched out several glass windows with his fists in disdain of the place, cutting his hands and arms. And just a few weeks ago, that colonel called me the lowest of Marines, because I never drink alcohol. Well pompous colonel, are you going to award a medal to this Marine of yours, for his grand drunken performance???

Saturday 22 June: Squadron Executive Officer Captain Doug goes on emergency leave. I am one of the higher-ranking officers under him, so I stand in for him (as XO) the few days he is gone.

Tuesday 25 June: I was awed when I had to assume the XO’s position. But today, our commanding officer flies away in the morning to return at 1 PM tomorrow. So, I am more awed to now assume his position (as acting CO) for that short time. Reckon this is the highest position I ever fill while in the Marines, tho only for about 28 hours this first time.

Wednesday 26 June: CO returns at 1 PM. I am most thankful no major crisis occurred while I was in command of MABS 12, and that I didn’t have to declare war on any rouge nation.

“Were you actually in a position to do that?!”

‘Use your 3 brain cells wisely to answer your own question.’

Some time back, I obtained from the States the addresses of all the Free Will Baptist missionaries in Japan (4 families at this time). I write to Fred Hersey to ask if I may visit his family for a few days. He replies “Come on.” I apply for military leave, and make plans to fly to Yokota AFB on the C-141 on Thursday night the 27^th. But today when I check on that flight, I learn it has been cancelled. Tonight’s flight is coming thru. So, I rush to get leave papers for today, brief the Marines in my office, hurriedly pack my things, and board that plane that flies out of Iwakuni at 10 PM on the 26^th. Arriving at Yokota, I get a room in the BOQ, and turn in after midnight.

Thurs 27 June: After breakfast, I call Brother Fred. He drives here to the base, and takes me to his house in Sayama City about 40 minutes by car. There I meet his wife and 4 of his 5 children. His oldest son is presently a student at Free Will Baptist Bible College in Nashville. This afternoon, I go with Brother Fred to his church in Iriso (he pastors a Japanese church). I observe, as he teaches his weekly English class to Japanese children. After supper at his house tonight, I again ride with him to his church for his night English class for adults. Most are young Japanese adults, and enjoy talking with me in English. I too, am thrilled to meet them and converse together.

Friday 28 June: Today Brother Fred is to host two (somewhat elderly) Christian women from the States who have come to Japan with a tour group. (They had asked him to show them his missionary life in Japan.) He lets me tag along with him the whole day, and it is a good education for me also. In the morning, he and I ride trains into Tokyo to meet the women at their hotel, and bring them to his house for lunch. Then we 4 go in his van to a Japanese home (members of his church), for these 2 ladies to visit with a Japanese family. He drives them back to their hotel in the late afternoon, and we bid them Farewell. Brother Fred drives to a parking lot in downtown Tokyo, and takes me on a walking tour of the center of Tokyo in the area of Tokyo Train Station and the Imperial Palace.

Previously I was awed by the mass of people I saw in Hiroshima. But their numbers can’t compare to the crowded “anthill” of humans in Metro Tokyo. Today their large numbers (so different from my boyhood life in sparsely populated rural Alabama) overawe me. God causes me to look on them as a parade of human souls marching straight toward an eternal Hell, most of them totally unaware of how awful their eternal fate will be. My Lord broke my heart over their lost condition.

The following day, Saturday, I spend a more relaxed (and enjoyable) day with the Hersey family.

Sunday 30 June: I go with Brother Fred to the Iriso church before 8 AM, and observe a Bible class taught by a Japanese Christian lady. Then at 9 AM Sunday School (for children only), we count 101 precious children who walk to the church in the pouring rain. The church building is tiny. We work furiously to arrange their wet umbrellas and shoes in the small foyer, and to seat the children orderly in a “stuffed” condition.

As soon as we get the mass of kids settled, I hop into the van with Brother Fred for a rushed drive of 50 minutes or so, to a Free Will Baptist church in Tokyo where Brother Fred preaches to the 18 Japanese who attend. Then, we all present eat lunch together in the church. (Others taught SS at Iriso, and a young Japanese man preached there today.) After lunch in the Tokyo church, I ride with Brother Fred back to the Iriso church for his late afternoon English conversation class, and meet more Japanese. It was a full and rewarding Lord’s Day that tied my heartstrings more securely to this Land of the Rising Sun.

Monday 1 July: Soon after breakfast, I leave with Brother Fred to ride trains into Tokyo to the Ochanomizu district. We go to a Christian building several stories high that houses a Christian bookstore and various “Christian things,” including “Japan Missionary Language Institute” where new missionaries study the Japanese language. I told the Herseys I felt God was calling me to serve Him in Japan, and that language study would be necessary at the start. So, he takes me up to the floor where this language institute is located, and shows it to me.

Next, we catch a train to Tokyo Station, and walk to nearby Imperial Palace Grounds for me to see the grandeur of the grounds and palace. Then we catch a train, and next a taxi to the church where he preached yesterday. This afternoon and early evening, Brother Fred teaches 4 English classes in the church. Most are children’s classes. The Japanese pastor’s wife is present, and she teaches a brief Bible lesson to each group of children before or after their English class. The Japanese pastor returns home from his full-time job around suppertime, and we 4 have supper together.

I tell this Japanese pastor’s family of God stirring my heart to serve in Japan, and they highly encourage me to do so. During this stay with the Hersey family, you can see that I attended several church services and English conversation classes in churches, such joyful experiences. I felt I was certainly “in my element”. I praise God that ever since then, I have felt that I am certainly “in my element” as I have continued to hold church services and teach English conversation in Japan for 5 decades to date (2024).

It is quite late that night when Brother Fred and I get off the train near his house. It was a most rewarding day for me. I stayed one more day with the Herseys, returning to Iwakuni on 3 July 1974. The next day, July 4^th, is a holiday. No work!

Friday 5 July: The BOQ office informs me that as a captain I qualify for a larger room that has just become available. So, at lunchtime, I happily move my things into that larger room to abide in it until I am discharged from active duty in the Marines next February. This room is nice and spacious.

Monday 8 July: Both the CO and XO are out of the squadron on business. So, I am in charge of the AOM (officers’ morning meeting). Again, I refrain from declaring war on rogue nations.

My peaceful, slow-moving workplace erupts in fury in July, as I become plenty busy doing my part as squadron safety officer and training officer, to get MABS 12 ready for the annual Inspector General’s (IG) inspection.

Sunday afternoon 14 July: I go to House of Sun to play with the crippled children, and such. As the day wanes and I am soon to leave, the man in charge (Mr. Sakata) calls me into his office. “Please come home with me for supper with my family.” I happily ride with him to his house. His wife, small son, and smaller daughter are all thrilled to have me as a guest. I am more thrilled to be their guest. They invite me to come back the next Sunday night also. I heartily thank them, and tell them I will bring beef for the meal.

Saturday 20 July: After working till noon, I buy beef and walk it to the Sakata house for the wife to serve us tomorrow night. I ride the trains to the orphanage in Kure, cut firewood to heat bath water, and have a good time playing with the girls. Returning to my BOQ room, Brother Fred Hersey calls me to say that he and his son (Samuel) will come by train to visit me, as we discussed 3 weeks ago when I was at his house.

Sunday 21 July: After spending the afternoon with the crippled children, I again ride home with Mr. Sakata for a bless-ed time with this family. Mr. Sakata’s dad lives with them. The dad tells me that he was a soldier in World War II, was captured in Russia and put into a POW camp there. He told me of those hardships. Thank God the entire family sees Christ in me, and repeatedly tell me I am “wonderful” because I am a Christian.

Monday 22 July: I take my physical fitness test (PFT), and run the 3 miles in 19 minutes and 43 seconds. I’m most happy each time I run that distance in less than 20 minutes.

Wednesday 24 July: I submit a request to Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps in Washington, D.C. to extend my stay at Iwakuni until my period of active duty expires on 15 Feb. 1975. (I’m scheduled to return stateside when December arrives.)

Monday 29 July: As I am most busy handling lots of MABS affairs, Captain Gary from “Hams” calls me at 10:45 to come for a 11:30 briefing to co-pilot a test flight on a bird that has undergone repairs. I must drop all I am doing and rush to change into flight gear and walk over to “Hams”. Such rushing is necessary during wartime. But in this peaceful setting here, Gary should get his act together better.

By now, most of the various stages of the lengthy IG inspection have all been completed. MABS 12 did plenty well in all phases of it, much to my relief. I now catch my breath.

Tues. 30 July: Today, a three-day nationwide train strike is to start. So, Bro. Fred calls me again, to say that it might prevent him and Samuel from coming tomorrow as scheduled. Today’s news says the train strike was called off at the last minute, thank God. Capt. Gary calls to say he wants me to fill a flight tomorrow. I tell him I am starting a few days of official leave tomorrow. He acts as if such should not be. These clowns think they are gods that can have their own way in anything.

Wednesday 31 July: I meet Fred and Samuel at Iwakuni Station, when they arrive on time from Sayama City, Saitama Prefecture (near Tokyo). I bring them to the BOQ by taxi, and give each a BOQ room occupied by buddy officers that also live off base, and thus are not presently using their BOQ rooms. We soon go by taxi out to House of Sun to talk with Mr. Sakata and visit with the crippled children. Mr. Sakata drives us to Kentai Bridge to view that scenic old bridge and castle.

Thursday 1 August 1974: I take Fred and Samuel by train to Miyajima where Reiko and friend are waiting for us at the station. We do a little sight seeing together, and then all ride a train to Hiroshima to visit the museum in the Peace Park. After that, we 3 guys part from the 2 Japanese young ladies, to return to the base.

I had great hopes for today, that Brother Fred would talk much to the girls about Spiritual things, because he is fluent in Japanese. But he did not. He was on vacation. In English, I would ask him to ask Reiko something in Japanese. “You ask her,” he usually replied to me in an uninterested manner.

Days ago, I told Reiko that he was coming and I wanted her to meet him, because they could converse freely in Japanese. I thought she would welcome that chance. But her reaction was the opposite, very cold to the idea. I pressed her somewhat to spend the day with us. All day, she and her friend were “stand-offish” to us. I was much disappointed by all of them. The following morning, I take Fred and Samuel to “Hams” hanger to proudly show them the TA-4 jet that I pilot. I soon take them by taxi to Iwakuni Station, and they head home.

August 1^st, 1974 makes 5 years for me as a commissioned officer, but there is no pay increase for the 5^th year.

Tuesday 6 August: This morning, our CO announces to us officers that all of us MABS 12 personnel are going to the Philippines this autumn. An advance party is to go in October, and the remainder of us in November. He proclaims these plans to be firm. Lord, please again work miracles for me, to keep me in Japan where Thou hast put my heart!

Wednesday 7 August: I fly VFR down to Kyushu to circle around overhead 2 live volcanoes there to view their hot destructive power from above. Exciting. I am most glad I didn’t fall out of the airplane into one of the volcanoes. J

Thursday 8 August: Flight scheduler Captain Gary calls me at 9 AM to rush over and brief at 9:30 for a flight with him. “Rush Rush Gary”, true to form. I hop into his back cockpit, and we drill holes in Japan’s skies. I am thrilled that he lets me take the controls, and fly the bird much of the time.

(Breaking News) Last year (1973), our nation’s vice president, Spiro Agnew, resigned amidst scandal. Senator Gerald Ford replaced him. On 9 August this year (1974), my military Commander in Chief (President Richard Nixon) resigns in disgrace, and is replaced by Gerald Ford. Mr. Ford will lose to Jimmy Carter in the next presidential election, making Mr. Ford our nation’s only president who was neither elected to the office of vice-president, nor to the office of president, though he served both of those offices. Truly the 1970s brought heretofore unknown troubles and upheavals.

Friday 9 August: My buddy pilot (Lt. Mike) (with copilot) flies to Kadena, Okinawa in a TA-4. Arriving there, he could not get a “Down and locked” indication for all 3 landing gear. So, he asked them to foam the runway. He raised his landing gear, and landed “gear-up” intentionally, skidding on his wing tanks, straight ahead thru the slick foam into the arresting cable just ahead, catching the plane’s lowered tail hook onto it. “Safe!” Previously, I told you of Mike having to eject from a faulty A-4 back in South Carolina. When in deep trouble, Lt. Mike comes out smelling like a rose, not like Agnew or Nixon at all. ‘Keep on flying safely, pilot buddy Mike!’

Sunday 11 August: I am Group 12 Duty Officer. Only the duty clerk and I are in Group Headquarters. Quiet. I inspect the guards after night falls, and then sleep on the bunk in the office. No one rouses me out tonight. That’s rare, and so nice.

Monday 12^th: I get up at 5 AM to work out the overweight Marines in Group 12 who are ordered to work out at 5:30 AM, before the heat of the day. ‘Move it, fat boys!’ As Duty Officer, I go eat breakfast in the enlisted chow hall after 6:30, come back to Group office to be relieved of duty as they show up for the workday. I make it to MABS’s 8:00 AM officers’ meeting on time. Today, infantry officers from Okinawa are touring our base. I give them a lecture and a partial tour. I take off work at noon, because I had duty yesterday, last night and early morn.

Wednesday 14 August: Received Headquarters reply on my request to extend at Iwakuni till February. “Approved.” Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for miracles! Keep me in Japan, I plead!

Friday 23 August: This month is typically the hottest month in Japan. Now it is extremely hot and muggy. Today, I get up early to get to the athletic field by 6 AM to monitor 7 Marines in MABS communications section who are required to take their PFT this morning. I run the 3 miles with them to show them how tough this captain is. Then at noon break, I work out the physically misfit Marines in MABS, again running the 3 miles with them in the sweltering noon heat. Running 6 hot, muggy miles today drained a lot out of this Marine.

“Sounds like Captain Yerby wants our sympathy.”

‘If you have any extra, I’ll gladly take it. If you want to join me in twice running 3 hot muggy August miles in one day, we’ll then see just exactly who needs sympathy.’

August 26 and 27: I go to the pistol range each day; fun firing that .38 special; qualify with a high score. Snakey’s ghost would be proud of me. Last time for me to annually fire the rife or pistol for score as a Marine. To date, I’ve fired a firearm many times. From now on, I seldom will. An era ends. Glory!

Wednesday 28 August: Officers’ AOM meeting is quite short, followed by discussions with Harrier Marines and WES personnel about our upcoming deployment to the Philippines. My ears (and soul) perk up when they say not all of us Marines in MABS will go. When the meetings are finally over and we go back to our work places, I get alone with Captain Jay to probe him about who is not to go. He leans close to me and speaks in a low voice. “I’ll put a bug in your ear. Don’t tell anyone I told you. It has already been decided that you will not deploy to the Philippines because your time is getting too short.” Abba Father, I believe in a God of Miracles! Praise Thy High and Holy Name for working miracles for me! Save many lost Japanese souls!

Several days back, I finished Japanese 101 language course with a high grade. Tonight (28 Aug.), I start the next course, Japanese 102 with the same teacher as before, ever so joyful to know this language study will not be interrupted by me having to deploy to the Philippines. At this point in time, Life in Japan is Turning Ever SO Golden, Thanks be unto God!

Saturday 31 August 1974: Iwakuni Base is in Typhoon Condition Two, as a typhoon reaches us today. I work till noon. Liberty is cancelled for all Marines, and we are advised to stay inside out of the strong wind and rain. I eat lunch and supper in the officers’ chow hall. I read, pray, study and relax in the peaceful solitude of my large, nice captain’s single room, getting needed rest as the winds howl outside, and I ride out the typhoon, and joyfully ride out the notable miracle month of August 1974, on my journey Home to The Celestial City!

July and August’s peak summer highly humid heat has been most fatiguing. I had a most heavy workload on me during much of July (as safety officer and training officer), preparing my squadron for the annual Inspector General’s inspection. I was much relieved when all phases of it were completed in late July. I had to write up much paperwork on Harrier operations. The CO rode me hard and nick picked over many petty details. Stress. Also, came the topsy-turvy conflicting announcements of all personnel in my squadron deploying to the Philippines and such. I thank God for sustaining me thru it all, and working mighty miracles to keep me in Japan. I am greatly relieved, and highly rejoice to see hot August 1974 end.

3b My Master in Heaven gives me a clear calling to the foreign mission field of Japan to preach Jesus Christ here.

That is a most blessed note on which to end this chapter.

“The idols of the heathen are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they speak not; eyes have they, but they see not; They have ears, but they hear not; neither is there any breath in their mouths. THEY THAT MAKE THEM ARE LIKE UNTO THEM: so is everyone that trusteth in them.” (Psalms 135:15~18)

Lord, help me to lift high the One True and Living Creator God before my idol worshipping precious Japanese friends.

The End of Chapter 29

On to Chapter 30

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