Chapter 30
FOLLOW ME.
(U.S. Marine Corps Air
Station Iwakuni, Japan. Part 3. From 1 September 1974, till I
board the sleeper train at Iwakuni Station the night of 13 March 1975 to permanently
depart this U.S. military base in Japan, ending my 5 years and 5 months
of full-time active-duty service as a Marine Corps officer and jet warplane
pilot, and starting my lifetime calling from my God to be
His missionary in Japan. This monumental and gloriously rich
“change in my life” is likely 2nd in Spiritual significance to my
conversion and salvation. My life elevates upward to a much higher plateau
of spiritual Richness than I have thus far ever known. And that Richness
has steadily increased till this present time that I re-edit this chapter in
2024, my 50th year in Japan. Thank Thee, Lord, for these 5 glorious
decades in this heathen Asian land, lifting Jesus Christ high.)
I heartily
welcome September 1974’s arrival, because the fatiguing humid
summer heat starts abating. Cool days soon begin to dot the calendar. Autumn
1974 at Iwakuni Marine Corps Air Station turns golden to my
soul. The mild pleasant weather seems to continue forever
(well into December), God’s sign to me of an upcoming golden
life of preaching Christ in Japan for many blessed years, decades.
I praise God for doing that to a much greater degree than
I ever dreamed of.
From Sept.
1st, until I’m discharged at Iwakuni from military active
duty on 12 Feb. 1975, those 5 months & 12 days are ever so pleasant and
fulfilling, as were my first 5 months of military active duty at The
Basic School in Quantico, Virginia.
But, September 1974 starts on Sunday
with me on Iwakuni Base in the midst of strong typhoon
winds and rain. I don’t go off base to church, or to House of Sun. Base Chapel
services are cancelled. I walk to the nearby chow hall in the late
morning and eat brunch, thankfully. After brunch, they close the
chow hall (not serving supper), because winds are getting stronger. In
my room all day with my Lord (a Shelter in time of storm), I read the Bible and
sermon books, and I pray.
Monday
2 September: Typhoon has passed, blowing away the air pollution to give us
clear, lovely blue skies. Today is Labor Day, a holiday for military personnel.
I welcome a nice large breakfast, after the typhoon cheated me out of supper last
night. I go stroll a while in town to look at what is
there, buying a cheap radio in a pawnshop. I bring it back to my room and start
listening to local Japanese stations for “hearing practice”; keenly listening
for Japanese words I have already learned. I keep up that listening practice
for decades.
I discover the children’s call-in program on the radio.
Japanese kids call to ask their questions of life. “If the earth is round, why
do airplanes fly straight?” Kids frequently ask such amusing questions in all
seriousness. The adults explain to them in simple child language, which makes
it easy for me to understand. So, I learn why the planes I pilot fly straight,
even tho the earth is round. J
Tonight (2 Sept.), after attending my language class, I return to my room and practice writing 60 Kanji characters.
Tuesday
3 September: I return to work after a 3-day weekend to encounter a solemn
mood in Group 12. One of its Marines on guard duty, in the dead of the night,
hung himself in H&MS (Hams) hangar, apparent suicide. My executive officer
tells me that Group 12 now plans to put its guard detail under my
supervision, making me Group Guard Officer. Any loathsome duty
that no other officer wants; “Let’s put it off onto Captain Yerby”. I pray and
wait to see what comes of that.
At
noon I leap into the sky in a Skyhawk, rejoicing to fly around high above all
the tragedies & problems on the Marine Base below. Reader Friend, a soul
feels so free high up in the sky (the 1st
heaven), playing around in a highly maneuverable small military jet plane. One
must experience it, to fully understand it. I thank God for allowing me such
adventure.
Saturday
7 September: I (with my Staff Sergeant Williams) am assigned the “Courtesy
Patrol” tonight. (I have no idea how it got that name.) From 6 PM till 1 AM (Sunday),
we 2 walk back and forth in the bar section of town outside the base gate. When
drunken Marines gets unruly, Japanese bar maids come out into the street
looking for the “Courtesy Patrol” to rid them of problem drunks. I observe
and supervise each time as Staff Sergeant Williams summons the truck
driver (A Marine also in this area on duty in a Marine truck). Then Sgt.
Williams and the Marine driver use whatever physical force is necessary to
force the drunken Marine onto the back of the truck to be driven back to his
barracks on base.
“Captain
Yerby, such loathsome duty should be given to Colonel H, who called you
the lowest Marine for not drinking.”
‘Absolutely!’
Friday
20 September: I co-pilot one of 2 Skyhawks to Naha, Okinawa to refuel, and then
we fly on to Cubi Point in the Philippines to spend the night. The next morning
(21st), we 4 pilots fly our 2 birds on to Taipei, Taiwan, descending
over the Grand Hotel on our approach into the airport. That hotel is
a grand sight to behold from the air. We 4 pilots stay in a smaller, less grand hotel in Taipei
that night.
This day as we 4 pilots talk, Capt. Carpenter tells me he was in my
TBS class back at Quantico. I didn’t get to know him then, but he remembers me.
And this day, he is the one who tells me that our class honor
graduate (Captain “Law” ⑧) was killed piloting a Skyhawk too low over the forest during a
fast speed, low-level training mission. Tho I related
that incident to you earlier, this day is my first time to hear it. Capt. Carpenter also tells me that Lt. Rick B.
(17) in our TBS class at Quantico, also later crashed the plane he was flying
and died in the crash. This day is my first time to
get that news (and to give it to you). At
Quantico, I didn’t get to know Rick personally. But we trained in the same
company (class), graduating together.
Sunday 22 September: Early in the morning, we 4 pilots launch our
2 Skyhawks and fly to Naha, Okinawa to refuel. Then we fly on to Kunsan Air
Force Base in Korea, where we shoot several practice approaches, and spend the
night there. I am awed at the many gun emplacements on base,
especially around the perimeters (defense against a North Korean attack).
Monday 23 September: We fly on to Yokota AFB near Tokyo, and the
air controllers bring our descent down right over the top of Mt.
Fuji, so lovely, already wearing a light cap of snow on its head. I stay with
the airplanes to monitor their refueling, and soon we are on our way home to
Iwakuni (arriving in time to take my mid-term test in my Japanese class
tonight.) I didn’t do so well on the test; too bushed from 4 days of fun in
high Pacific skies and in three other Asian nations. Thrills galore!
Thursday 3 October 1974: At work, my Staff Sergeant Williams
challenges me to jog around the base with him (5 miles or so). I rise to
the challenge. He is a long-legged, slim, tall black Marine in great
physical shape. I get plenty bushed keeping up with him.
After I return from that run, MABS 12 Commanding Officer (Major E)
calls a meeting with all his captains (6 or so of us). We
are his highest-ranking officers. He announces immediate future plans for each of us, and the positions that 1
or 2 newly arrived captains are to now be assigned to. And the
announcement I savor most, is when he tells me personally
that I definitely will not be
deployed to the Philippines. His official word today is finally
“firm”. I am to remain stationed in Iwakuni, Japan till I
am discharged from military active duty. His “firm” word today ends a 5
month “unsettled” period when I didn’t know how badly I (most
desirous to be in Japan), would be tossed about (location wise), while on
Marine duty in this Pacific area. Today’s good news brings a wonderfully
calm peace to my soul, thank God,
turning this final 5 months and 12 days of my military active duty into solid
gold!
On a similar note, nothing ever came of that
scuttlebutt talk back on 3 September (after the Marine on guard duty hung
himself in the middle of the night), saying that I would be put in charge of
Group 12’s guard detail. I’m just getting too short (on active-duty time
remaining), for that to be feasible (or for them to relocate me
to the Philippines). Lord Jehovah my God
and my ALL, Thy Timing is Perfect! Thy Control over powerful men is All
Powerful! Thy Great Love for me is Unfathomable. I am Thine,
O Lord!
With
the majority of my squadron’s Marines now getting deployed to the
Philippines, I have little work to do. We few MABS 12 Marines remaining
at Iwakuni are mainly “house sitting”. Many days, I am the highest-ranking
officer in the MABS 12 squadron offices here at Iwakuni Base.
“Shall
we call you Commanding Officer Yerby?”
‘That
would sound nice, but that’s going a little too far.’
Things
become ever so calm at
work, like a paradise compared to the much turbulence
I have endured in MABS 12 thus far. I am going off base much to be with
Japanese friends, with whom I can now quite well converse in their
language (more solid gold),
thanks to God blessing my language study.
Long
ago, I made the last monthly payments on my credit union loans, finally
becoming completely debt free for the first time since early
1965, thank God. My captain’s pay and flight pay are good. I’m saving money
to start my missionary life. Truly my Lord made these last 5 to 6 months of my active-duty
military time to be most pleasant, most
enjoyable, most golden. Thank
Thee, my Loving Lord Jesus.
(The
previous few paragraphs summarize how blessed this chapter’s period of
my life turned out to be, similar to my last 8
months or so at Cherry Point.)
Saturday 5 October: This lovely autumn day becomes a most
fulfilling day for me. This afternoon, I ride the
trains to Kure and go to the orphanage. I help the
girls wash windows, play with them in their yard, and then go on a walk with a
few of them to a park where they pick autumn flowers and such.
After we are back in the orphanage sipping tea, I take out a copy
of The Lamar Democrat (my hometown weekly newspaper back in Vernon, Alabama). I
had previously mailed a letter to the “Democrat’s” office, describing my visits
to the orphanage (along with a picture of me with several of the girls), asking
them to please put the letter and picture into their news. I was most thankful
that The Democrat did so. Now, the girls just gaze in awe over it, hardly
believing that their picture is in a newspaper in faraway U.S.A. This makes
a most blessed day!
Sunday 6 October: At House of Sun, they have a little ceremony for
me, thanking me for my kindness to them all. They present me with a “diploma”
and a small gift. Touching!
Tuesday 8 October: I co-pilot with Lt. Mike thru Naha to Cubi
Point, Philippines. He and I go bowling that night at Cubi,
and talk much of past times and mutual Marine acquaintances. He has a
pleasant personality, not prone to oppress others. (Besides, I outrank him.) We
return to Iwakuni late afternoon the next day, just in
time for me to make my night language class. I proudly show Teacher my diploma
from House of Sun.
Tuesday 15 October: Payday. All federal government employees get a
COLA pay increase this fall, and my increase is in my pay today, ($20 more,
twice a month). This is to be my last pay raise in the U.S.
Marines.
In language class this term, more than once Teacher has remarked
that Japanese 103 may not be taught next term, because few ever sign up for
that advanced class. Lord, please cause
them to offer it. Today is registration for University of Maryland’s next
term at Iwakuni. (Other courses are always taught, of course.) So, I go
to the small room for registration in an office building to ask if Japanese 103
is being offered. “Yes.” Thank
Thee, Lord, for answering prayer. I register
for it.
Saturday AM, 19 October: I walk over to the admin office in Marine
3rd Air Wing Headquarters to inquire with a captain
and 1st lieutenant about the possibility of getting discharged here
at Iwakuni. They care not to hear such a request (extra paperwork for them). So,
they gripe and let on like it would not be
approved (so why bother to apply). Still, I “kindly” persist, and submit
that request, stating that I desire to continue living in Japan to do missionary
work here. Lord Jehovah, open doors that no man can
shut! Miracles, I plead!
Such is
a rare
request that will be carefully scrutinized
by high-ranking officials in Washington, D. C. “With
his ability as a nuclear weapons pilot and with his 3 brain cells crammed
full of Top-Secret U.S. military information (much of it
nuclear war strategy plans), just exactly why is he
desirous to stay in Asia?” I think the “powers to be” in D.C.
will ponder such.
Lord Jehovah God, Thou art my Almighty Creator Who doeth the impossible
for me. I praise Thy Great Name for that! (I pray off and on till 4:30 AM the next morning.)
Monday 21 October: I walk over to the small passenger terminal to
sign up for Friday morning’s flight to Yokota, hoping to go on leave again to
be with the Hersey family and all other Free Will Baptist missionaries in Japan
at their annual meeting. Tonight, I take my final test in Japanese 102. The oral
part is quite difficult. I thank Teacher for teaching me these two terms. I am
to have 2 other Japanese teachers the next 2 terms.
Tuesday afternoon 22 October: I show up for the court martial I
have been summoned to sit on (like jury duty). The parties were not ready to
start, so it’s postponed. I’m scheduled to fly tonight, but the weather is
horrible. When I show up at “Hams” expecting them to say it is cancelled for
weather, they command us to GO. The other pilot and I brief, strap into our
cockpits and taxi out to the end of the runway ready for takeoff. “Your flight
has been cancelled due to adverse weather. Taxi back in to
the chocks.” That comes into my earphones from Tower. So, we taxi back in, I
gear down, walk home, and go to bed. I could have told them
that it wouldn’t fly!
Wed. 23 Oct: The court martial starts today and is brief. A
pitiful drunkard warrant officer is being tried for bad debts and for writing
bad checks, crimes caused by his heavy drinking. I’m the lowest ranking
officer on the “jury” with 2 majors and a lieutenant colonel. When we “jury”
soon meet privately in a small room to decide our verdict, those Top Brass are
fuming over the defendant’s disgraceful conduct as a Marine, and
want to throw the book at him, fining him and giving him a dishonorable
discharge. I delicately push for a lighter sentence with these 3 higher-ranking
officers. Final decision: he is fined and reduced in rank, but not
thrown out of the Marine Corps.
“Captain Yerby, his defense lawyer should have called Colonel H.
to testify that sober, upright Marines who will not drink, are
the lowest Marines, and drunkard Marines are SOP!”
‘Absolutely!’
“The court martial judge should have ordered Colonel H. to pay off
that drunkard warrant officer’s bad debts.”
‘A b s o l u t e l y again!’
The following day (24 Oct), early on, I get my leave papers from MABS
12 admin. Then I keep working at my desk and soon go flying in a 2-plane
formation to Osan AFB near Seoul, Korea. After landing, I change out of flight
gear hurriedly and walk out the gate to Major Chung’s church. A young Korean
Christian lady comes out. When I ask for Chung, she shakes her head. Knowing
that he would likely be at work, I hand her a note I have previously prepared (written). ‘Give this to Major
Chung.’ She nods her head. I hurry away, stop into a clothing store on the way
back to select 2 nice men’s sweaters for a total sum that would be $7.75 in
U.S. dollars. Cheap!
We fly back to Iwakuni this same night.
My leave now starts. I literally run to my room, change
clothes, pack, walk to the passenger terminal with my bag and leave papers at
12:30 AM (midnight), hoping to catch the flight to Yokota, only to be
disappointed to learn that it has been held up in the Philippines due to bad
weather there.
“That was a long sentence, Writer Boy!”
‘It’s been a long day, Reader Boy (or Girl)!’
Back to my BOQ room I go, and hit the
rack (go to bed) about 1:30 AM on 25 October. I get up in about 5 hours to eat
an early breakfast and call the passenger terminal to inquire about the C-141
from the Philippines. “We haven’t gotten any word on it, but the Freedom Bird
is coming thru headed for Yokota.” I hustle down to the terminal with my bag,
because I can board (standby) for free, if a seat is available.
But no seats are available. I enquire if any P-3 submarine hunters are flying thru here today headed for Yokota. “No.”
After exhausting every possibility, I hike back to my room
to read, sleep, eat supper at my chow hall, and call the passenger
terminal again to ask the status of the C-141. “Because bad weather delayed it
so long, it will not stop here, but will fly directly
from Clark AFB in the Philippines to Yokota AFB.”
With my bag, I take a taxi to Iwakuni Station to buy a ticket on
the 9:52 PM sleeper train. I call Fred Hersey from a
pay phone to tell him what time my train is to arrive at Tokyo Station tomorrow
morning. I read my New Testament and such during the 3-hour wait. (I
didn’t know the train schedule, or I would have gone to the station later.) So,
after running “Chinese fire drills” all day on this vacation, military leave
day, I sleep quite well as the train clacks up the tracks thru
out the night to Tokyo, arriving Saturday morning, 26 October.
Missionary Fred and 2 sons, Samuel and Steven, are each spaced
apart on the platform at Tokyo Station to look for me inside the train.
I spot each of them as my train slowly rolls to a stop alongside the
long platform, and they each spot me. We 4 take an urban train a few
stops away, put my bag into a coin locker at the station, and walk to a nearby stadium to watch the Tokyo Giants beat the
New York Mets in a pro baseball game.
When the game ends, we 4 ride the trains to Fred’s house. I greet
the rest of the family. Fred and I eat a hurried supper before I hop onto the
back of his motorcycle with him to ride to a night church service nearby.
Piloting fast Marine jets thru high, spacious, wide-open skies, is not
nearly as scary as riding on a motorcycle’s backseat in a
Japanese city. It was a blessed Japanese church service, much more blessed than
the ballgame. Tonight, I pillow my head in Brother Fred’s house.
Sunday 27 October: I attend the 8 AM, and
then the 9 AM Sunday School services for kids at Brother Fred’s church, and
then the 11 AM worship service. (Church building is tiny. Thus 2 “age-group”
SS classes are at separate times.) We adults eat lunch at the church. Elderly Mrs. Willey has flown here from the
States to speak at the “conference” this week.
She was missionary wife and mother in Cuba when Castro took over
and soon kicked them out. She has exciting missionary stories from those days.
Her husband was allowed to visit condemned Cuban “ex-government” officials in
prison in Havana before they were riddled with Fidel’s firing squad bullets.
Brother Willey would witness to them, pray with them, urge them to pray for
forgiveness and salvation (some did), and finally watch several of them fall
before the firing squad. “It really drained him,” Mrs. Willey
told us. Pop Willey did not live very long after returning to the U.S. from
Cuba.
After lunch at church, I ride home with
the Hersey family. ‘I am allowed to shop in the BX and commissary on base and give
my purchases as a gift to civilians. I am not allowed to take your money
and shop there for you. Yokota AF Base is close by. I’d be glad to give
you some things you’d like to eat from its commissary.’ The whole
family smiles delightfully.
I get into Fred’s van with him and one
son, as Fred drives us to Yokota this afternoon. I
show my ID at the gate and in we go. They (not permitted to enter the commissary)
had given me a “want list” of what they longed to eat. I bought some of all items, and gave it to them as a
present. The only two items I listed in my diary are the chicken and ice cream
Fred and I eat this night after he and I return from his English class at church.
“Did you dip the chicken into the ice cream to eat it?”
‘Try it. You just might like it!’
Monday 28 October: Early hustle and bustle as we breakfast.
Brother and Sister Hersey, Mrs. Willey, and I soon catch trains into the Tokyo
area of Haneda Airport; then take a taxi the rest of the way to the airport. We
fly north to Sapporo in Hokkaido. The other 3 Free Will Baptist missionaries in
Japan (Wesley, Jim, and Jerry) live in this area with their families. Their annual
meeting starts tonight.
Thru Friday, they hold daily business sessions with each
missionary’s report, devotions, Mrs. Willey’s Cuba horror stories, and such. On
Friday 1 November, the first snow falls here. The following night (Saturday),
we have a “combined” service in one of this area’s Free Will Baptist Churches.
The small room is packed. Sunday morning, I attend worship service in this
church in Japanese, and then we have an afternoon service in English.
Monday 4 November: We have a final morning service at the
same church, after which Jim hustles us to the airport in time to catch our 747
Jumbo Jet to Tokyo, and we go on to Fred’s house. Elderly Mrs. Willey is quite
tired out. Brother Fred drives me to Yokota to sign up for standby on the
flight to Iwakuni tonight. I again buy ice cream and some staple vittles for
them. We return to his house for a splendid supper, sit and fellowship with big
servings of ice cream about 9 PM. (Quality ice cream is very
expensive in Japanese stores.) I soon bid everyone Farewell, and Brother Fred
drives me to Yokota to drop me at the passenger terminal. Come midnight, I am
sitting, waiting for the flight to Iwakuni.
Tuesday 5 November 1974: They have a seat for me this time, but
the plane is late (leaving around 3 AM and arriving Iwakuni at 6:30 AM). I
first go to my chow hall for a good breakfast.
On to my BOQ room, clean up, get into uniform and report to work on time
(turning in my leave papers). It’s a joy to see that I have lots of mail
from the States waiting for me. More such mail arrives today. I’ve missed 2
Japanese language classes. So I leap into tonight’s class with a passion.
Wednesday 13 November: MABS 12 Marines are busy loading much
equipment & many of themselves aboard Navy ships here at
Iwakuni Port to sail to the Philippines. Thank God I am not involved
with any of that (steadfast and
unmovable), firmly
planted in Japan by Almighty God, my All. My nice, spacious 2nd
floor office becomes an even quieter study hall than before, as I study
my Japanese textbooks in my free time.
At 8:30 AM, “Hams” 12 calls me to report for a 9 AM briefing to
co-pilot a flight to Osan, Korea. Such short notice should not be. ‘Captain
Flight Scheduler, get your act together!’ I jog to my BOQ room,
throw a few clothes into a bag, and jog to “Hams” to be on time.
When ocean water temptature and air temptature at ocean surface,
fall to a prescribed point each autumn, we pilots are required to start wearing
a one-piece shell-like foam rubber insulated suit under our flight suit while
piloting a plane, until those combined temptatures rise back above that
prescribed point in the springtime. If I have to eject
over the cold ocean, hopefully that insulation will keep me from
freezing to death until rescue arrives. Today is my 1st time to have to wear that suit this autumn. I had worn it previously at Cherry Point.
“Hams” gave me such short notice that I forgot to put on long
underwear when rushing in my room. That long underwear is necessary
to keep that rough insulated suit from torturing my skin. So,
this day I have to put it on over my short
underwear (regular T-shirt and boxer shorts), and grimace most of the long
international roundtrip as it chafes at my skin.
My plane’s radio becomes intermittent upon reaching Osan. Much
colder here. I change clothes and go looking around out in town, but don’t buy
anything. We leap back into the air in our two birds as darkness falls, for a
night flight home. My bird’s radio weakens again approaching Iwakuni, so we fly
wing on the lead bird, and land safely in the dark, thank God.
Saturday 16 November: I leave work at 9 AM, walk off base and out
to the Iwakuni Immigration Office near the port to inquire about getting a visa
to stay in Japan. (They are open till noon on Saturdays). Simple-minded me
thought the only requirement for receiving a visa was to be a good citizen, as
opposed to being a criminal. They tell me I need a sponsor (guarantor), and
such. God is my only Sponsor. So, I begin to pray fervently for
Him to work miracles to get me a visa.
Tuesday 26 November: Corresponding with Missionary Russell, I say
I want to study Japanese full time upon getting out of the Marines, but
the only missionary language schools I know of are in large
cities in Japan, and I don’t like living in such a crowded place.
He replies that there is a missionary language school in the mountain resort
town of Karuizawa, and gives me the phone number of the director, Missionary
Bill Cook. That news is like a sunbeam,
immediately giving me full assurance that it’s the Lord’s Will
for me study there. Tonight,
I call Bill from a pay phone, feeding many 10-yen
coins into it.
‘Brother Cook, I’m a Christian and a Marine pilot stationed at
Iwakuni. The Lord has led me to get my discharge at Iwakuni to remain in Japan
to preach the Gospel of Christ. I’m interested in coming to Karuizawa to study
Japanese in your missionary language school.’
“P r a i s e G o d! I did the same
thing. I was an Air Force pilot stationed at Yokota, and the Lord led me to get
my discharge there and remain in Japan to preach Christ here!”
Months
ago (when I came to know for sure the Lord was leading me to stay in
Japan), I began testifying of that to any missionary I met in Japan, seeking
their encouragement for that giant leap.
I was so hoping each would react with; “That’s wonderful! God bless you!” But typically,
they were bewildered by my words, reacting in shock with “It
won’t work,” or even more strongly discouraging
words. In Sapporo, I got mostly negative reactions as I announced it to the
missionary men assembled there (so desperately hoping for
needed encouragement). “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back to the
States and get with a mission board.” In Sapporo, that was Jerry’s strongly
discouraging words to me.
But
from the very start, Brother Russell Stellwagon faithfully encouraged
my weak faith with words like; “The Lord will pay for what He orders.” Those
words helped allay my fears of starving to death alone in this foreign land. Tonight,
on the phone, Bill Cook greatly encourages me. Thank
Thee, Precious Lord Jesus, for Thy All-Sufficient Encouragement.
Thursday
28 November, Thanksgiving Day: No work on this holiday. A special,
delicious Turkey meal is being served at my chow hall. But instead of feasting,
I fast, pray and read the Bible most of the day and till 2 AM the
next morning. Holy Ghost Power, Lord, I plead!
December
1st, 1974 arrives on a Sunday: The “Freedom
Bird” (that takes homesick Marines back “home” to the U.S.) comes thru Iwakuni
twice a week, headed for Yokota. Had I not extended my stay in
Japan, I would board it on Dec. 2nd at the latest, but likely I
would have flown out on it right at the end of November. This quaint old wooden
building housing MABS 12 offices on its 2nd floor, faces the
airfield. Part of the passenger terminal area is visible from the
open walkway on the 2nd floor.
Since
arriving at this building, a year ago (Dec. 5th), walking up
and down that walkway during my workday, I observe fellow Marines standing at
that banister on this 2nd floor, staring ever so longingly
at the Freedom Bird on the tarmac twice a week or so, and counting their days
remaining on this foreign soil, longing for the coming day
when they will board that Bird to fly home. I now rejoice
that I am not to board that plane to return to my native land. I glory
in my Lord keeping me on this foreign soil to hold forth words of life
to millions of lost, idol worshipping Japanese Buddhist souls.
Monday
2 December 1974: I sit in on Private Miller’s court martial. He is charged with
assault and making threats. We find him guilty of assault. He is a most pitiful soul. Alcohol
(that Colonel H. berates me for not drinking) is a big factor. ‘Hey,
Colonel H! You come here now, hear, and help this Marine that strong
drink has made so low and pitiful!’
Tuesday
3 December: I’ve been in Japan one year. Tonight is Japanese language class.
Missionary Steve (living in Iwakuni) is in this class. “Don’t stay here in
Japan. You can’t make it.” In my diary I wrote those faithless words
Steve spoke to me tonight. The Judge of all the earth recorded them on His
Judgment Record. “For
whatsoever is not of faith is sin.”
Wednesday
4 December: Praying, and consulting with Immigration officials, I plan to apply
for a student visa instead of a missionary visa, because
Immigration doesn’t consider me qualified for a missionary visa. Bill
Cook will provide a letter of acceptance to Karuizawa Language School, for me
to submit with my visa application. I write Brother
Fred to humbly ask if he would write me a letter of guarantee. I tell him I
will never ask him for finances. (Immigration requires that I have a guarantor
in Japan.) Today, I rejoice to receive in the mail,
Brother Fred’s letter of guarantee. Bless him for helping, Lord.
Friday
6 December diary entry: “At work ‘Hams’ calls me to drop everything now,
to go fly a cross-country flight to Korea now. I refuse it.” Just
too short a notice to be reasonable.
“Sounds
like short-timer Fly Boy is getting feisty with those
officers in command!”
‘Sure
sounds like it!’
“Hams”
soon calls me again. “A Japanese school group of 5th graders is
getting a tour of our base today. We are putting a Skyhawk on display for them
to ‘tour’, and we need a real live pilot to stand on display with the plane.”
(The captain calling me knows I can speak Japanese.)
‘Sure!
I’m your man!’
I
gladly march over to “Hams” flight line,
and have a most fun time with those precious 10-year-old
Japanese boys and girls, a quite big group (excited around the airplane, and
firing many questions at this elite pilot). Fun! Fun beyond words!
Tuesday
10 December: I am assigned as Range Officer to supervise Group 12 guards at the
skeet range, firing shotguns to keep in practice.
“Captain
Yerby, it’s been a long time since you fired a 12-gage shotgun, Sir. Want to
blast away?”
‘Why
not!’ So, I blast off 3 rounds in
memory of that first bunny rabbit I terminated with Daddy’s old double barrel
12-gage when I was 11 years old or so, honoring the deceased.
Thursday 12 December: My discharge orders
from Headquarters Marine Corps (Washington, D.C) arrive for me, approving
my request to be discharged from active duty here at MCAS Iwakuni, without
returning to the United States. After I submitted that request to Headquarters
on 19 October, they have not probed me with any
further questions concerning it. They simply wire
their approval to Wing Headquarters here at Iwakuni. Truly,
my Lord went before me and prepared the way perfectly. Lord Jesus,
for all my remaining days on earth, I desire to serve Thee in Japan
to the utmost.
Sunday 22 December: House of Sun has their Christmas
party this afternoon. I take refreshments I bought on base,
and wear my Dress Blue uniform. Many of the Japanese had their picture
taken with me.
Tuesday 24 December: I am off from work for
Christmas. Several Marines in my squadron ride the trains to Kure to give a
Christmas party at the orphanage. I participate in that, and thoroughly enjoy
it.
Wednesday the 25th: My 2nd
Christmas in Japan: I spend the entire day in my room with Jesus. Fasting.
Praying. Reading The Holy Bible. No feasting
(tho my chow hall has a nice special Christmas dinner). No
exchange of gifts. No human contact. A most blessed way to commemorate
my Lord coming to earth to save me, and “whosoever
believeth in Him”. Your Eternal Abode is your choice, Reader
Friend. Choose Life!!
Thursday 26 December: Back to work.
Friday 27 Dec.: Japanese Immigration calls me at
work, telling me to come tomorrow, saying they want to talk to me. So, I take a taxi there in the rain the following morning. They
have gotten a telegram reply from the head immigration office in Tokyo, reiterating
that I do not qualify for a missionary visa, but they agree to grant me
a one-year student visa that can be renewed when one year is up. Thank Thee,
Lord, for a Japan visa permitting me to reside in this heathen nation.
Sunday 29 December: When I attend the Otake church
this morning, they give me a 1975 Christian calendar with the Lord’s Prayer
printed in Japanese on it. That’s a joy to me. I ride the train back, and walk to my BOQ room.
Remember back on 10 February?
The Japanese granny came up to me on the train platform, started talking, and
invited me and the 2 other Marines to her house, and then had us come back in a
few days for a meal? After those initial meetings, we had no more contact. I
didn’t want to be too forward by going to their house
when not invited (especially, it being her son’s family’s house). But this last Sunday afternoon of
this year, I want to bid that cordial family Farewell, before I soon leave
Iwakuni. So about 2 PM, I head out walking to their
house, wondering if Granny is in good health, or even still alive.
The young mother comes to the door when I call. She
remembers me. I’m thankful I can converse much better in Japanese than I could
the last time I was here many months ago. The young lady ushers me into a back
room where Granny is lying on a futon (pallet). I can readily see that she is
very weak, and likely close to death. I sense the Grim Reaper close by. I kneel down quite close
to her head, and quietly greet the frail old soul as
cheerfully as possible. I show her pictures I took of us the last time I was
here.
“Fond memories.” She spoke that plainly in
English, ever so weakly, but putting forth as much effort as she could to smile
and appear cheerful. With a heavy heart, I spoke to her briefly, thanking her
for being so cordial to me, knowing I would never see her again in this life.
The pictures I just showed her are extra prints I had made to give to her. So,
I give them to her now. She receives them as a treasure.
The atmosphere is somewhat strained. I know better
than to linger long. So, I bid Granny Farewell, go
into the front room where the mother and 2 children are, and give them the box
of cookies I brought as a present. They thank me, but no one is very talkative.
I tell them I’m leaving Iwakuni soon, bid them Farewell and depart. Granny
and her grandkids (and those grandkids’ friends) were the very first
Japanese souls to win my heart. This is the very first Japanese home
I entered. Their memories are a treasure.
“Lord
Jesus, I want to see them in Heaven! Hear me now, my Lord!” Fellow Christian, you please
agree with this my plea! (Matthew 18:19)
In April 1978, I will travel
back to Iwakuni from Karuizawa, and again walk out
here to pay this family a visit. They will tell me that Granny died quite
shortly after I paid this visit today, (dying just a few weeks later, I
think).
Monday 30 December: I fly to Korea and back.
Tuesday 31 December 1974: My squadron is off this last day of the year. I spend
much time with my Lord praising Him for a most rich
and transforming year (like no other year thus far in my
life) during which He called me to this foreign mission field and
worked numerous miracles for me.
New Years Day 1975: Holiday. No work. As it pours
rain most all day, I welcome in the New Year by staying in my room the whole
day, praying and fasting. Power, Lord, I plead!
Thursday 2 January 1975: “Break-fast” is delicious.
Back to the grinder, and busy all day writing many
reports due at year’s end and beginning. My Corporal Clark injured himself
slightly last night in drunken rowdiness. ‘Hey, Colonel H, Sir, get your
drinking carcass over here, Sir, to bind up your Marine’s wounds, and
commend him for behaving so Marine-like, Sir!’
Sunday 12 January: After morning church, I walk to
House of Sun and play with the crippled children. Three mothers give me a
lovely Japanese doll (lady in kimono) in a glass case about 20 inches
high, saying it is in appreciation for me “hosting” them at the base’s Open
House last May. I wish they hadn’t spent that much money on me. I thank them profusely.
Tuesday 14 January: I go to the education office and
register for Japanese 104, the last language course I will study here
(and the highest Japanese course that is taught here). Thus, I study all
4 available courses.
Friday 17 January: I assume Group Duty Officer
before 8 AM, and then go work in my office. After 1
PM, I walk to my room, shower, and pack a bag for my cross-country flight
tomorrow. I return to my office to work till 4 PM, when I go downstairs to
resume Group Duty Officer. I go check the barracks
about 10 PM, and rack out at midnight. I am thankful
the duty clerk doesn’t get me up during the next 6 hours, because I need some
sleep before flying Asian high skies on Saturday.
Saturday 18 January: I arise
before daybreak to a thin blanket of snow covering the landscape, and snow still falling. Will this cancel my cross-country today? But
when dawn breaks, I see the clouds breaking up. So, I leave after 7 AM (as
Group Marines are arriving for a half day of work), and
walk to “Hams” for the 7:30 flight briefing, only to be told they have
postponed it till 9 AM. They could have called and told
me. Then I could have gone to my chow hall for a nice breakfast.
Soon two Skyhawks are winging their way to Yokota
AFB this morn. I am entombed in a co-pilot cockpit, in my awkward insulated
suit. At Yokota, I call Brother Fred from a pay phone to talk a little. We
pilots eat a little lunch and fly on to Osan, Korea, arriving at 6:30 PM. I
walk out to town to order suits and leather boots tailor-made (and cheap).
Since arriving in Japan, friends from Pleasant Acres
Church in New Bern, N.C. have been sending me their children’s school pictures
(for the current year). I have been bringing them to a “portrait” store here,
where Korean artists paint large portraits from the photos (cheap). There are
such artists in Iwakuni, but expensive. Today, I bring a few more photos, and order
a portrait painted of each.
I walk on to Major Chung’s church in the dark. In
broken English, a Korean Christian lady tells me that he is no longer here, but is now at a different church in a different town
near here. I walk back onto base, eat a nice supper at the officers’ club, and
bed down tired. (Because I am only visiting this base, I am not banned
from this officers’ club, like I am banned at Iwakuni where I’m stationed.)
Sunday 19 January: We blast off early to Naha,
Okinawa, my bird flying wing on Number One because the TACAN (guidance system)
is down (not functioning) in my Skyhawk. We get it repaired at Naha and fly on
to CCK in Taiwan. I shower, eat supper at the officers’ club, and go shop in
town just a little.
Throughout this 3-day cross country flight, each day
I am in the rear co-pilot cockpit with Lt. Colonel “Woods” ⑯ up
front as pilot. As we 2 talk together today, I mention to him that I am soon to
be discharged from active duty here at Iwakuni to become a missionary in Japan.
He speaks well of that, commends me for it, and tells me that he is a 7-Day
Adventist, and that he is trying to clean up his mouth (his speech), and become
better. I should have clearly spoken to him of our need to trust in the
Lord Jesus Christ for eternal salvation and eternal life, and
allow Christ to change our lives into better (new) creatures. But I sort of
chickened out and said little, using the excuse that he highly outranks
me. In about 4 weeks, he will die in a flying accident. Many fellow aviators dying
on the job.
Christ-rejecting Reader
Friend, you sho’ don’t know
when you will die, do you? Trust in the Saviour Jesus Christ now!!
Monday 20 January: When we leap into the sky at CCK,
each of the pilots (in the front cockpits of these 2 Skyhawks) is a colonel,
piloting each bird. I am in the rear cockpit of Number 2 bird. CCK is near the west
coast of Taiwan, separated from communist Mainland China by a narrow
ribbon of ocean. In Number 2’s rear cockpit, I am looking keenly
at the departure chart strapped to my thigh, because I don’t relish
flying in a U.S. warplane so close to red China commies. Our
runway lies east-west. We lift off the runway headed
west. The chart calls for us to fly westerly (towards
Red China) for 8 miles, then turn to a northerly course to fly another 11 miles
over the narrow ribbon of ocean (but near Taiwan’s coast in Taiwan
airspace), and then turn to a more easterly
direction.
As our Skyhawks rise up
from the runway, soon Red China comes into sight. I don’t
like that sight at all. So, I keenly watch the
miles increase on my TACAN, so thankful that we got it fixed at Naha, anxious
to turn north at 8 miles. But when we reach 8 miles, the “senile”
colonel in the lead bird keeps heading straight toward the
Red commies. My front cockpit pilot (Colonel “Woods”)
is busy at the controls of our bird, keeping wingtips 3 feet apart in close
formation. I have no idea what the co-pilot in lead bird is
doing. He should be closely watching his TACAN, keying his
intercom button to tell his pilot up front to turn NOW
before a commie missile blasts us to smithereens. But apparently, he isn’t
watching his TACAN.
So, this Redneck Farm Boy, Low Rank Co-Pilot keys
his radio. ‘Lead, we were supposed to turn at 8 miles.’
Lead’s reply comes back into my earphones inside my
helmet. “Negative. At 19 miles.” That “senile” colonel (who likely put several
drinks under his belt last night), had mistakenly added
together the 2 distances of the first 2 legs, and intends to fly 19
miles straight, thus going straight into Red China airspace.
Deadly disaster!
‘No, Sir! At 8 miles!’ I broadcast to
him desperately.
“I’m checking my chart.” That colonel pilot replies
to me.
By now, we are 10 miles straight out, making
us off course, and soon to be in Red China airspace. Likely
the Reds are listening to my radio conversation with my Lead Bird, definitely painting us on their
defense radar, keenly tracking us.
I look again at this much closer
view of our nation’s enemy territory, expecting to see a missile coming up
at us. It will either blow me to smithereens in the air. Or it will damage my
plane, forcing me to eject, and then the Red Commies will slowly and exquisitely
torture me to death.
“Well, Redneck Plowboy turned Courageous
Flyboy, which one of those bloody, gory scenarios did you prefer that we read
in a short biography of your short earthly journey???
‘N e i t h e r!!’
CCK
Departure Control (watching us on their radar) radios us in a stern,
urgent voice. “(Stupid) Flight 08, make an immediate right turn to a
heading of 055 degrees.” Thankfully, the colonel immediately
turns (away from communist enemies lusting to terminate us). I breathe an infinitely
deep sigh of relief, and proceed to live
happily ever after. J
“Marine
flying certainly is adventurous, isn’t it, Flyboy?!”
‘No
comment available on that, today.’
We
fly on to Naha, Okinawa to refuel, and then on home to Iwakuni, safe and sound,
thanks be to Almighty God!
Monumental Milestone in my Earthly Journey: This is my last time to pilot a military airplane. And only the
Good Lord knows how close I came to getting blown out of the skies over
Red China by one of their missiles.
Wednesday
22 January: I’m scheduled to fly to Osan, Korea. But a lovely snow cancels that
flight. So, this 3-day cross-country flight (18-20 January 1975) (flying
in 3 Asian nations) is a grand climax, and the end
of my military piloting career that started in the spring of 1970 over Oklahoma
skies with a less than an hour flight in a Cessna 172 (a little, slow, single
engine propeller plane “bug smasher”).
Truly it was 5 years of sky-high adventure. I
thank God for allowing me to taste it on my earthly journey. I’m just as
thankful that I got my fill of piloting
during those 5 years. I’ve never missed it, never
longed to go back to it. The high calling of a foreign missionary
takes me much higher than those sleek Marine jets
ever did.
Thursday
23 January: Tonight is my 1st class in Japanese 104, my 4th
and last language course at Iwakuni. My teacher is Mr. Muramoto. (First time to
have a man teacher.) His English is not good enough for him to explain things
well. My previous teacher, Mrs. Hinahara really spoiled us (most proficient
in English, with a good sense of humor). She had previously lived in
Birmingham, Alabama for over a year, possibly 3 or so.
“I
had lived in Birmingham almost a year before I realized that ‘sho-nuf’ was 2
words,” (‘sure enough’), she reminisced.
‘Well,
welcome to Alabama, Japanese lady. Get with the local language program here in
Bama. It’s “sho-nuf” colorful!’
Friday
24 January: I’m informed that final approval for my
visa has come in to Iwakuni Immigration. But they only
gave me a 6-month visa, not a one-year visa as promised. I go to the immigration office to receive the papers
authorizing that visa.
Saturday
afternoon 25 January: I ride the trains to the orphanage, chop firewood to heat
bathwater, eat supper with them and help some of the smaller girls with math
homework. I don’t have to know much Japanese to help
them with: ‘2 + 2 = 4.’ I took photos at their Christmas party,
and give them copies today. They happily
receive them. Bless them
richly, Lord!
Wednesday
29 January: I’m scheduled for court martial duty starting at 1 PM. They slide
it to 2 PM, and then to 10 AM tomorrow. I want to take “basket leave” this
weekend to ride on a C-130 transport plane to Osan, Korea, then travel by bus
from Seoul to Pusan, Korea to catch the ferryboat from there back to
Shimonoseki, Japan, just south of Iwakuni. Adventure! Delaying this
court martial is going to push it into my scheduled leave time. Help me, Lord Jesus!
Today,
I write the first of several letters to family and to church friends
back in the States, telling them I plan to stay in Japan as a missionary. Regretfully,
most family members mourn, rather than rejoice over that blessed
news.
Thursday
30 January: When the court martial convenes at 10 AM, the presiding judge asks
if any of us “jury” have any desire or reason to “ask off”. I raise my hand.
‘Sir,
I’m due to be discharged from active duty here at Iwakuni in about two weeks. I
have plenty loose ends to tie up before then. Also, I was counting on taking
basket leave to Korea. I request to be discharged from
court martial duty.’
The
judge reluctantly granted my request, thank God.
Friday
31 January 1975: Today three “passenger” planes fly from Iwakuni to Osan,
Korea. But I’m not able to get a seat on any of them with my standby
status. All three are full up.
The 1st month of this new year ends. I’m
now 29 years old.
Saturday
1 February 1975: This afternoon at the orphanage, I tell everyone there that I
plan to stay in Japan as a missionary. They happily receive that news.
(Remember, this is a Christian, Salvation Army orphanage.)
Sunday
2 February: Up at 4:45 AM to catch an early airplane. It flies to Atsugi,
Japan, then to Taegu, Korea, and finally to Osan. I run various errands there
(picking up suits I ordered made, and portraits I ordered painted). Piloting
the Skyhawk, I only had a tiny space to store my small personal
bag. But I’m able to take much baggage aboard this “passenger” plane.
But…when I show up at the terminal at departure time, one
of the plane’s crew says it doesn’t look like there will be a seat available
for me (standby status). Mercy,
Lord!
The
crewmember tells me “Watch & wait”. So, I pray hard as I stand in
the terminal door, watching all the passengers board the plane. That crewmember
steps off the plane to vigorously wave me on. I joyfully
hurriedly lug my much baggage out, to squeeze into the last available
seat on a plane flying back to Iwakuni tonight, arriving 9 PM. Thank God!
Monday
3 February: Again, I’m up early to pack a bag, go to MABS 12 to draw my “basket
leave” papers, and catch a late morning C-130 flying to Osan, Korea. This
is my last time to fly as a passenger on
a military airplane or helicopter. Thank Thee, Lord, for safely seeing me thru all my piloting of, and riding in, military
aircraft.
Arriving
Osan, I walk off base, buy a few things, walk back onto Osan Base, to soon take
the bus to Yong San U.S. Army compound in Seoul, Korea. I get a BOQ room for the night. Officers Club’s supper is
delicious.
Then
I go shopping outside the gate in the “villa” geared for G.I. shopping.
Well-made sweaters are unbelievably cheap. I plan to soon go live in cold
Karuizawa, Japan. So, I buy 10 sweaters. (I will give
Fred Hersey and his sons some of them.) This is my last time
to shop in Korea as a Marine. I come back to
the BOQ and sit in the T.V. lounge a while, talking
with an Army chopper pilot about flying choppers. Each time I talk to a
military helicopter pilot, I am most glad
that I fly jets!
Tuesday
4 February: Up early for breakfast at the O Club. Walk down to the bus terminal
on this Army compound and get a front seat on the 8:30 AM Greyhound bus
to Pusan. Please look at a map of South Korea to see that I travel much of the
north-to-south length of South Korea riding between these 2 cities. The
bus makes several stops. Most riders are Koreans. I sit by a small elderly
silent Korean lady who appears to have been born well before 1900. I cannot
speak her language, I hold out my snack food, offering her some. She shakes her
wrinkled head. Korea looks plenty barren to me as I gaze at it from the
Greyhound gliding down the express hwy to Pusan.
The
bus arrives in Pusan at 2 PM. I take a taxi to the ferryboat dock and buy a
ticket to Simonoseki, Japan. Night boarding is hours away. So, I walk around
some in town, being ever so careful, because Korea is not as safe as Japan. Later,
the Korean officials are so nit-picky as I process thru “immigration”.
Going thru several checkpoints was painfully slow. At the next to last one,
they send me back a ways to get one of my forms
stamped.
When
I finally reach the boat’s gangplank, officials ask for my
“Shot card” (Vaccination Record). I show it. “Smallpox
vaccination is expired.” The U.S. military no longer requires us
to get a smallpox shot. So, I didn’t need it when I flew on U.S. military
planes to all these U.S. military bases in Asia. But I am
presently traveling in the Asian civilian world, and Japan
requires people coming in from Korea to have a current smallpox shot. It’s already
boarding time to sail to Japan, but I’m forbidden to board. Mercy, my Lord, I plead!
“Follow
me! Hurry!” So, I follow that Korean official. He takes me to a taxi and puts
me into it with a young American guy who is not currently vaccinated for smallpox, and gives the taxi driver instructions in Korean.
He drives us to the Justice Department. As we go thru hassles there, I
fervently pray I will make it onto that boat. They walk us 2 Americans
to a nearby doctor’s office to get “shot”. They record my vaccination on my “shot
card”, and give the other guy written proof. Then the taxi driver gets us back to the dock in time to board. Deep
relief! Thank
God!
The
boat sails. I talk with the American guy. He is in the Peace Corps. The boat
arrives Shimonoseki, Japan at 1 AM and sets in the bay till 8 AM, when the
immigration officials come to work. Poor timing. It’s noisy in this large, bare
room aboard ship. Many of us lowest class passengers are together, sitting
or lying on the floor. (I definitely prefer locomotion
by jet.)
“But
you brag much that you like travel adventure.”
‘W e l l, only certain travel adventure, the nice
kind.’
When
I process thru Japan Immigration, the official makes sure my
smallpox shot is current. ‘Yep, it’s dated yesterday
and its blister is just starting to fester on my arm,’ I muse silently. I take
a taxi to Shimonoseki Station close by, just in time for the next limited
express train to Iwakuni, taking 2 hours and 20 minutes. I get back to my own
BOQ room in time to put my bags down, and go eat a good
lunch in my chow hall, much relieved to be back
home (after several varieties of adventure). I relax the rest
of the day with smallpox fever, still on leave.
Thursday
6 February: Back to work at MABS 12. All my many fun
traveling adventures as a Marine (which actually started when I was in Navy ROTC at Auburn
University), are now past history.
Squadron executive officer wants to assign me to do a legal (criminal)
investigation, but he realizes I don’t have enough active-duty time
remaining to complete that. ‘That’s n i c e!
Marine Corps bonds are soon to totally
break.’
Sunday
9 February: I visit the orphanage in my Dress Blues uniform and take individual
pictures of each girl standing beside me, one girl at a time, to later
give to each child to have her own personal picture. Fond, cherished
memories for me!
Monday
10 February: I put on my winter service uniform for work. I recall how greatly
delighted this 19-year-old redneck farm boy was to first start
wearing a military uniform back in early 1965 in Navy ROTC at
Auburn. Now (10 long, adventurous years later), the joy
(of soon being free of daily putting on the prescribed
uniform) is steadily increasing for this Marine captain. Milestones!
Glory! At work, I am shocked when the admin officer tells me I
must start processing out tomorrow. I thought it would start 2 days
later. So, it’s going to be rush, rush! SOP for the Marine Corps.
Tuesday
11 February: I turn in my flight gear (helmet, oxygen mask, that stiff,
uncomfortable, hulk-like insulated full body shell, G suit, and such). I
rejoice to be completely (and safely) finished with it all.
I am allowed to keep my flight suits and flight jackets, including the nice
genuine leather pilot’s jacket. Thank Thee, Lord, for keeping me safe the many times I
donned that equipment, and ascended high up
into the skies!
Wednesday
12 February: At time of discharge, I am required to take a medical physical
examination. I go to the “hospital” on base today to take my last
military medical checkup. Then, I go to dispersing to draw my last pay. I
receive all active duty pay due to me (plus, pay for 59 accumulated leave
days). Military personnel may accumulate up to 60 days of leave. Upon being
discharged, one is paid for any remaining accumulated leave. Three years ago, I
set a goal of taking little leave in order to
accumulate close to 60 leave days when I am discharged. Today I receive salary
for my 59 accumulated leave days. That will pay much language school
tuition, thank God.
12 February 1975 is
the official date of my discharge from active duty in the United States Marine
Corps. I turn in my I.D. card and am issued a different color ID card (denoting
“inactive status”). It will be valid for 3 years or so, during which time I can
show it at the gate of U.S. military facilities to be permitted to enter. My
diary entry says: “Now my all belongs to my Saviour. I praise His Name
for that.”
It
is the custom of MABS 12 Commanding Officer to speak great swelling words to a
departing officer (at the morning officers’ meeting). Then the CO shakes his
hand, followed by all fellow officers shaking the departing officer’s hand
(with wide smiles and flattering words). But presently, my CO is in the
Philippines. We aren’t having many AOM’s now (morning meetings). There is almost
no fanfare in MABS 12 Squadron over
this captain’s discharge. I like it that way. Simple is best.
Upon
starting my 1st day of classes at Auburn University about one week
into the year 1965, I also entered into the United
States military at that time, by entering the university’s Navy ROTC. Now it is
10 years plus just over a month later, when I am discharged from the military.
That Start and Finish seem to be light years apart in my
mind, thinking on my Maturing, Advancements, Accomplishments,
and the many and varied locales on earth I had resided
in, during that time. On this day of discharge, I am ever so
thankful that I gained my desired goals, and
came safely thru that dangerous role. I heave a great
sigh of relief that it is now completely
finished.
When
I signed up for University of Maryland’s Japanese 104 class, I decided then
to stay on Iwakuni base till that term ends next month. So, I continue
attending those classes two nights a week. Till I depart from Iwakuni on 13
March, I will spend much time daily alone in my room, praying and
studying the Bible and the Japanese language.
Marine
Corps Air Base Iwakuni has its own TV station, broadcasting American TV for
homesick Americans to watch. I observed some Marines buying a cheap TV set to
watch in their rooms, as they counted down their days remaining before they get
on that “Freedom Bird” to go home. Other personnel sat in the base theater 1 or
more times a week, staring at the screen.
I
thank God; that I didn’t get a TV set or attend a movie at the
base theater the whole time at Iwakuni. (In the Philippines, I attended
a movie on base, only one time, I think.) Before coming to Japan, I
occasionally went to movies when in college, and then when in the Marines
stateside. I thank God for this spiritual growth, in that I now
desire to pray and study the Bible much, and desire to shun worldly movies.
Sunday
16 February: When I go to House of Sun, Mr. Sakata again invites me to his
house for supper. After we eat, I am playing with his son and daughter. Men
friends of Mr. Sakata show up. Those men sit in a different (smoke-filled)
room, drinking and smoking. Mrs. Sakata is close by me and her son and
daughter. She questions me. “You don’t smoke? And you don’t drink? What
do you do for pleasure?” I was plenty surprised that the pleasure of
long life with good health did not come to her mind, as she saw me refraining
from those sinful pleasures that destroy health and kill. It broke my heart
anew, over their blind slavery to sin’s destructive “pleasures for an ever
so short season”. Lord,
please enable me to plainly preach Truth to these perishing
Japanese in their tongue.
One
day this week, I am in my room reading and studying, while listening to a local
Japanese radio station for hearing practice. Breaking news comes on. Two
Marine pilots ejected from their plane over the ocean water close to the
base. It was clear that they were Iwakuni pilots, and I know it is likely
they were in a TA-4 Skyhawk (and thus I likely know them). I strain to
understand the Japanese newscaster, but can’t catch
everything. He spoke of 2 parachutes, and of a
Japanese fishing boat speeding to the pilots as they parachuted down into the
ocean. I wonder who they are and what their fate is.
Later,
as other pilots who live in this BOQ building return from work, I hear them in
the hall talking about the accident. I rush out of my room to them. ‘How
are the pilots?!?’
“Colonel
‘Woods’ ⑮ drowned.”
He continues with more details. The engine
malfunctioned soon after takeoff. Both pilots ejected, their parachutes
deployed, and they landed in the ocean very near the base. The vacated Skyhawk crashed into the ocean. (Possibly,
it was the Skyhawk I last flew on 20 January.) Japanese fishermen
in small boats in the area rushed to each pilot in the water. The
co-pilot survived. Apparently, Colonel “Woods” quickly sucked much cold ocean
water into his lungs, because a boat reached him in about 3 minutes, and the
fishermen pulled him into the boat. But it was too late.
Likely I will have Colonel “Woods’” blood on my
hands when I stand at the Judgment Bar of God. Unsaved Reader Friend, repent!
Fully trust in the Saviour of the world, the Lord Jesus Christ, and follow Him
all your days on earth. The Grim Reaper is much closer to you
than you think, biding his time when he will take you
out of this world.
The very first military pilot
under whom I received pilot training, soon after died in a plane crash in Viet
Nam. (Major “Pug” ⑨ at Vance Air Force Base,
Enid, Oklahoma.) Now, the very last military pilot
with whom I fly the high skies soon after dies in a flying accident. The total
number of tragically killed military men (with whom I rubbed elbows in life);
come to 17 written in this book. (You have read of each.) Those are the ones I
am aware of. Likely there are several more that I know not of. Thus, I
render utmost thanks to God for sparing me in that 5-year deadly
adventure of military flying, by serving God to the utmost
for all my remaining days on earth.
I
soon have to vacate my BOQ
room because I am no longer on active duty. The captain who replaced me at work
has a Japanese wife. So, they 2 live together off base, tho he also has a BOQ room. He kindly offers
me his vacant BOQ room for the next 2 weeks. So, I now move into it. I am no
longer permitted to eat in the officers’ chow hall. So, I eat burgers and such
in “snack bars” on base, that are open to all souls on base.
Until
I depart Iwakuni on 13 March, I go to the orphanage most every Saturday and to
House of Sun most every Sunday, savoring and cherishing each moment I
spend with these precious children (“orphans” and handicapped). Each
week, I can speak Japanese just a little better. Every little bit helps.
Thursday
6 March: Previously, I met Mr. Sakata’s married sister at his house. She
invites me to her house for a meal today, along with Mr. and Mrs. Sakata and
one other Japanese lady. Mr. Sakata’s sister speaks quite good English, is
amazed that I am staying in Japan, is most delighted over that, and speaks many
encouraging words to me today. “Come back to Iwakuni and build a church. I’ll
donate money toward that.” I prayed hard for these precious
friends to get saved.
Saturday
8 March: I go to the orphanage for a precious last time, as I bid
these dear friends a final Farewell. Most of them, I will never again
see on earth.
Sunday
9 March: I attend Sunday morning service in the Japanese church. We have lunch
together in the church, for my Farewell, this being my last time to come to this church. Hope to see them all in Heaven. In
the afternoon, I go to House of Sun
the last time. It tears at my heartstrings as I bid Farewell to
these crippled children, their mothers & other souls present.
Our
Triune God mainly used 3 groups of Japanese souls to tie my
heartstrings to Japan. 1. Granny, her grandkids and their friends
(kids). 2. The people at the orphanage. 3. And the people at House
of Sun. The memory of all these souls will be ever so
precious to me thru out my remaining earthly journey!
Spring is in the air, signaling the start of a lifetime
rich harvest time of eternal souls in Japan! Warmer days. In
short sleeve, feels great to visit out in warm Japan much, totally
free of Marine Corps command, uniform of the day, and such.
Tuesday
night 11 March: I take my final test in Japanese 104, and do well
on it, thank God. Teacher asks me to read a text story in Japanese, while he
records it. (That was separate from the test.) That ends Japanese 104 study for
me. So, ends all my business matters on base. I will soon
depart Iwakuni.
Thursday
13 March 1975: Tonight, I will depart Iwakuni on a sleeper train
headed for Tokyo. Today I go to the office where I
worked. I have been going there most every weekday, picking up mail arriving
for me from the States. I have informed family and friends in the States of the
Karuizawa Language School’s address, and told them to
start sending letters there to me. I give MABS Group 12 Mailroom that address,
telling them to forward any mail for me on to Karuizawa. I shake hands with the
few Marines in my office; commend the enlisted Marines who worked under me. Then,
this captain leaves his last Marine post for
the last time, (that 2nd floor
spacious comfortable quaint office space in that old wooden building). I liked
it the very most of all
my military workplaces!
I
am now grandly, highly promoted
to the lowest ranking foot soldier servant in The Lord’s Army!! Hallelujah!!!
The
fellow captain friend who let me move into his vacant BOQ room, is my
replacement at work. I left the door to that room unlocked when I walked
here. Now (in my former office), I return his
key to him, thanking him and telling him I will lock the door behind me when I
vacate his room in a few hours.
Weeks
ago, the Marine Corps agreed to pay to send my belongings (by a domestic
trucking company) to Karuizawa. I boxed up most everything, and the truck came
for them a few days ago. Tonight, I shower, finish packing my 2 large bags
(heavy), and then sit in that room fervently thanking, praising
and worshipping my Lord till time to go. I already have a
reservation on the Asa Kaze (Morning Wind) sleeper train. Making double
sure I forget nothing, I lock the door behind me with no key, and lug those 2 heavy bags a short distance to where I
can catch a taxi on base. I ride that taxi thru the
base gate, away from military life, and essentially
away from American life. Hallelujah! The taxi
takes me to Iwakuni Station. I board the Asa Kaze (likely between 10 and 11
PM).
3c I am
discharged from active-duty military service at Marine Corps Air Station
Iwakuni, Japan. There, I depart military life and American life, to enter
missionary life in Japan.
“Follow
me, and I will make you fishers of men.” My
Precious Lord Jesus, please enable me to follow Thee wholly! Please make me
into the very best Fisher Of Men!
The End
of Chapter 30