Chapter 27
A FAR COUNTRY
(From
September 1973, the day my squadron Commanding Officer at Cherry Point tells me
the Marine Corps will soon send me to Japan, till I arrive at my new duty
station in Japan on 5 December 1973)
On a
workday morning in September 1973, all is going normally as I walk along the
hangar’s catwalk alongside our squadron’s offices (upstairs) overlooking the
hanger’s concrete deck and its airplanes far below. That normalcy is about to
explode in my face. I meet my commanding officer, Major D., on the catwalk.
After I give him the respectful, required greeting, he remarks in passing, “You
are going to Japan. The message just came down from Headquarters (U.S. Marine
Corps Headquarters in Washington, D.C.). Your official orders will arrive here
in proper time.” He went on his busy way.
That
news was a plenty big surprise to me. I
neither expected that move nor desired it. But
I must follow orders. (Unlike that tentative transfer to California, I well
know these orders are not negotiable, though I did not yet
know they were God’s Divine Marvelous Plan for my life.) So
I immediately accept that “fate”. I soon go into the S-1 office
(administration) next to the ready room to inquire further of my flying buddy (Captain Russell), the admin officer in charge of all
such paperwork. I ask him when I’m to go to Japan. “At the beginning of December.”
Because
the Marine Corps has ceased sending pilots to Viet Nam and Thailand, I naïvely
assumed I would remain stationed here at Cherry Point till
my discharge date of February 1975. And my simple
little soul had come to greatly rejoice in that assumption. God was steadily
giving me increasing “ministry” in church, resulting in much
needed Spiritual growth for me. I looked forward to such ministry here
continuing till I got out of the Marines. Then I would
likely go to Bible school a year or 2 to become well
qualified to preach the word…in season and out of season.
But
today, I abruptly hear that the Marine Corps is going to upset my apple cart by
sending me all way to the other side of the world. I learn that Headquarters
typically makes sure to send each Marine overseas to fill a necessary work slot
at a foreign base before being discharged. I will get
orders to serve 1 year at Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni (in Yamaguchi
Prefecture in southern Japan just south of Hiroshima). It disappoints me to
hear that. But there is no arguing with Headquarters. So I immediately set about preparing (both mentally and
physically) for that major move.
A
foremost thought is: ‘What am I to do with this house
I bought just over 2 years ago?’ As I talk to everyone at church about me
leaving and ask them to pray about what I would be able to do with the house, a
young married couple in the Sunday School class I
teach, is interested in renting it. That’s an immense
relief to hear. So I visit them in their house (my 1st
visit ever) to discuss this matter. They’re living in
a nice brick rental house with their small son (about 3 years old). They tell
me their monthly rent is $225 and that their finances are strained. So I offer them a deal of a lifetime.
‘My
house is not near as nice as this one you now live in. But
if you want to rent it, I will set the monthly rent at $75 (the amount of my
house payment). Also, I will not need that rent money
till I get discharged from the Marines, which will be almost 16 months after
you move into the house. So I will not ask you to pay
any rent till I come back here to New Bern in early 1975. If you move into my
house when I depart Cherry Point on military leave in early November (2 months
away), you can then stop paying your present high rent to enable you to catch
up financially. Then in a few months when you are breathing easier financially,
you can start putting away some money monthly so you can pay all 15 months or
so of my low rent when I then return here.’
That
young married couple rejoiced over such a generous offer, took me up on it, and
moved into my house a week or more before I left that area. (I went into a BOQ
room on base at Cherry Point when they moved into my house.) I rejoiced that good friends whom
I already knew (a trusty “church couple”) would be in my house to take good
care of it and that the rent charge would make my monthly payments on the house.
$100 or more per month would have been cheap rent, but I had no desire to
squeeze all I could from them. I wanted to help them. So at that point in time, they and I each think, “This sure is a
win-win deal for both parties.” It certainly turned into a winner of a deal for
them, because they never paid me a dollar of rent, not even a cent for living in
my house 15 months or so.
Upon
us mutually reaching that agreement (well over a month before they will be able
to vacate their expensive house and enter my cheap one), the hubby immediately
went straight to a boat dealer and chose a plentifully expensive new pleasure
boat. He drove hurriedly to his house with loan papers (for a loan to buy the
boat) forcing his wife to reluctantly co-sign with him (she being opposed to
his extravagant spending).
About
a week after I sat in their living room (listening to them bemoan their high rent)
and compassionately agreed to rent them my house most cheaply, I drive by
their house and see that fancy expensive boat setting in their yard (much to
the amazement of my simple mind). The wide, lovely Neuse River is less than a
mile away where likeminded people water ski, fish, and just cruise around in
such fancy boats for fun. Because he will cease paying house rent in just over
a month, he will use that money for boat payments instead and remain just as
financially strained (and never pay me rent).
Upon our mutual decision for this family to move into my house, I immediately get extremely busy working nights and Saturdays fixing up my old house to make it nicer for them, spending much money doing so. I paint most all interior walls and have carpet installed in both bedrooms. (I had previously painted the living room walls and had carpet installed.) The old central heating “furnace” was completely worn out. So I have a new one installed, adding 1 or 2 ducts for better heating for them. It entailed much work that took up lots of my time that I had rather use for Christian work and for fellowshipping with Christian friends in the area before I leave.
In October, I am among the several officers my squadron sends to a
temporary camp (of tents and such) in the forest on down nearer the coast for a
training session of coordinating air strikes and other aerial operations among
men on the ground, pilots in the air, and shipboard Navy and Marine personnel
on a couple of small Navy ships just off the coast a few miles from where I
sleep nights in a tent in the woods. I’m
designated to function as a pilot on the ground with various coordinating
duties. That short training session (planned for 5 days or so) frustrated me
because I need to return to my house each afternoon to do much work into the
night preparing the house for my new squatters who will never pay their rent.
It
was plenty uncomfortable sleeping on the ground in a
small tent that 1st night. But that turned
out to be the only night I spent there. Briefly search history, please, to read
of the tense trouble that broke out in October 1973 regarding Israel. It broke
out right when I went to this forest. Those Navy ships that were part of this
training operation were ordered to immediately go to
port, load up necessary men, weapons and supplies and head for the Middle East.
A
non-aviator lieutenant buddy of mine (who was to sail
on one of those ships) chatted sadly with me about suddenly being taken away
from his wife. Such is military life, buddy boy! I
(along with some other Marines, mainly pilots and navigators) were put on a cattle car and hauled back to Cherry Point. I
wondered if my entire squadron would be sent to the
Middle East, causing me to go there instead of going to Japan. My God worked so
that it didn’t happen. My Lord has Perfect Plans for
me to go to Japan to preach Christ the rest of my days on earth.
A
lieutenant colonel pilot commanded this training in the woods that got abruptly aborted. Thus I was around him several days (my
first time to meet him) as he taught us in a classroom at Cherry Point before
they hauled us out to the woods. So let’s call him
Lieutenant Colonel “Woods” ⑮. He
will be transferred to Iwakuni a few months after I go
there. In early 1975 (just before I leave Iwakuni), he will eject from a TA-4
into the cold ocean waters near the base and drown before he can be
rescued.
These
days, I am frequently dropping into the squadron’s admin office to check on my
orders to Japan and to check on the exact date I should soon
be promoted to captain. My buddy admin officer,
good-natured Captain Russell, is always as helpful as he can be. Monthly, he
follows the “numbers” of the 1st
lieutenants who were getting promoted to captains each month and he estimates
that my number will come up on 1 December this year. (And
it does!) So I begin looking forward to that promotion
in just a few weeks. “Captain Yerby” sounds great, especially if the person
addressed as such is full of worldly vanity!
Speaking
of navigator Captain Russell, listen to a flying adventure he and I shared. As
I brief him in the ready room on our 1 plane training
flight, he asks me a favor. “My uncle has just bought a new house in (a certain
city) in South Carolina. Let’s fly down there and see if I can spot his house.”
‘OK!’
So after takeoff, I fly there first and get as low over town as the rules allow
and slow as much as the heavy fuel load will allow as we circle around in the
area of the house (Russ telling me which way to go).
I’m pushing the stall limit with my slow speed, and as I roll in a
little more bank in a turn, that heavy Intruder stalls and begins to plunge out
of the sky. Instantly, I roll wings level and cob both throttles to full power.
The plane was already in a dive because it had stalled. I cannot immediately
pull it up because that would keep stalling it. I watch airspeed build up as we
loudly roar downward toward town and slowly pull in back stick to get climbing
again less than 2000 feet above the stores. “Let’s get out of here!” Russ and I
both exclaim into the intercom as we each heave a great sigh of relief that we didn’t have to eject from the stalled A-6. I pilot us out of
town ASAP, pointing that bird skyward at full throttle.
“And,
Pilot Captain, you did report that incident to your squadron’s Operations Officer
upon returning to Cherry Point, did you not?”
‘NEGATIVE.’
“With
such pilot clowns overhead, aren’t we ever so naïve to think that we are safe
in our own houses?!”
‘AFIRMATIVE!’
Most
all of the month of October, I visit friends I have made in Havelock, New Bern,
and in other nearby towns and cities to bid them Farewell. It’s
a precious time that pulls at heartstrings! After my new tenants move into my
house (and I am now staying in a BOQ room on base), I drop in on them 2 or 3
times just before departing. They feed me supper one night. That supper is the sum
total I get in the way of house rent from them. Their new extravagant boat
sets on its trailer in my yard. It sure looks out of place in my
yard.
Pastor
Outland asks me to preach on the last Sunday before I depart New Bern. I agree.
So, after teaching the young adult SS class I preach
the sermon for the morning worship service. Thank God
that The Holy Spirit powerfully touches hearts. After the
sermon, many souls come forward to pray at the altar at invitation time. We are
all greatly blessed by Our Lord’s Working amongst us
this day. That Powerful Moving of the Holy Spirit assured me that God had
called me to preach and would bless my preaching. To God be
the Glory! Thank Thee, Lord Jesus! We
had Sunday dinner (lunch) at church after that service, the fellowship being
ever so rich.
I had many “loose ends” to tie up at my house
and at work (on the base), causing me to delay my departure 2 days or so. I
continue to bid Farewell to friends, right up until I drive away on Thursday.
Next-door neighbors had been so kind to me. Little Susan (about 4 or 5 years
old now) told me she would miss me. The young lady I
dated and all her family had been most hospitable to me. I am deeply thankful
to them all.
Thank
Thee, Precious Lord Jesus, for a most blessed and rich two and half years by
the sea side. It
was most pleasant to have months of calm at the end of my stay here.
Thank Thee, my Lord, for calling me to preach and for much Spiritual growth
during this time.
When
I finally depart New Bern in early afternoon, I drive south along near the
coast till late bedtime and then spend the night in a
motel. I’m first going to Ft. Myers, Florida to visit
the Tiptons. Upon reaching Florida the next day, I angle across Florida toward
its west coast, driving thru vast orange groves along the way. The sight of so
many orange trees is impressive, showing me how a nation can drink orange juice
for breakfast each morning. I spend about a week in Ft. Myers with the Tiptons.
It’s an enjoyable time.
Leaving
Ft. Myers, I drive to Birmingham, Alabama to visit Mrs. Mars. I don’t stay long, possibly only 1 night. I drive on to the
Free Will Baptist Bible College in Nashville, Tennessee to visit it for the 1st
time ever. I consult with preachers on the staff that I had previously met in
person as they preached in churches in the New Bern area. I tell them that
likely I will be coming here to study in January 1975.
I
look up students I know. Etta, a young lady I met at
Pastor Bob’s church in Owasso, Oklahoma. Wade, whom I knew
from Pleasant Acres church in New Bern. And last
of all, in the early evening I visit my first cousin, Rick Cash. He grew up
about 12 miles from where I grew up. Each visit is short. As I’m
about to leave Rick’s house, he gives me a copy of “The Sword of the Lord”. I
had heard just a little of it before, and of its editor Preacher John R. Rice. But it was of the Lord that Rick gave me that Christian
newspaper. I’ll tell you more of that later.
Leaving
Nashville, I make my way to Daddy’s house near Vernon, Alabama (my boyhood
home). The 2 weeks or so I spend in the Vernon area, are full as I visit with
everyone I possibly can. I’m there for the
Thanksgiving holidays with “Old Fashioned Day” at my home church that Sunday. It’s good to be among church people I had known all my
boyhood.
Growing
up in a simple farm life (and other factors) resulted in simple-minded me being
plenty apprehensive about traveling to the opposite
side of the world. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever make it back to my boyhood home
again! I could be thrust into a war somewhere in Asia at any time!’ Such was my
apprehension. Thus I try to savor all I can of my
birthplace before launching into the unknown.
I
plan to fly on a commercial airliner from Memphis, Tennessee when I depart this
area for Japan. Now I ponder what to do with my car while I am in Japan (just
as I pondered what to do with my house in New Bern). If I come back from Japan
to attend Bible school for a year or so, I will have little income while doing
that (and possibly for quite some time after I start
to preach). So I want to keep driving this T-Bird as
long as I can. A good friend in Vernon, Charles, tells me he has a building he
can keep my car in, to keep it in the best shape possible. I thank Charles and
agree to that.
After
many Farewells in the Vernon area, on an afternoon about November 27th I drive to my brother’s (Joe and Mavis)
house in Smithville, Mississippi to make the very best of this last evening
with them. In darkness early on the following morning, Joe gets into the T-Bird
with me to drive my car back to his house from the airport and later take it to
Vernon for Charles to store away. Chatting with Joe, I drive to the Memphis
Airport, about a 2-hour drive in pouring chilly rain as dawn breaks. Departing
in the gloomy rain raises my apprehension about ever returning here
safely.
Watching
the odometer as I drive along, I call out to Joe. ‘Look at this. The odometer
is now turning over to 88,000 miles.’ It has been 4 and half years since I
bought this new T-Bird near Auburn shortly before graduating from that
university. It has been a joyful adventure traveling near and far in it.
I averaged driving the T-Bird just less than 20,000 miles per year during which
time I saw much beautiful scenery in our nation (and spent 1 or 2 nights in the
car). That car was most pleasant to drive. I thank God for providing me such
good transportation, and new wonderful friends to ride with me each place I
lived.
“Many
shall run to and fro.” (Daniel 12:4) We end time generation are doing precisely as
the holy prophet prophesied.
Arriving
at Memphis Airport, I pull my 2 large bags out of the
car, bid Farewell to Joe and watch him drive away in my sharp-looking T-Bird. I
never again see that nice car. Upon staying in Japan after getting my
discharge from the Marine Corps at the base in Iwakuni, I soon write both
Charles and Daddy separately, asking them to advertise the T-Bird for sale.
Daddy found a buyer for it and the money helped me pay my Japanese language
school tuition.
A
week or more before I left North Carolina, the price of gasoline started
creeping up from its “standard” price of 33 cents (or so) per gallon. This
rainy morning when I part from my Thunderbird for good, gas is probably 37 cents
(or so) per gallon. Everyone is appalled at it getting “so expensive” and look
forward to it soon falling back down to its normal 33 cents or so, in that
area.
Little
did we know then, that such cheap gasoline would soon be in history books only,
and that soon buyers would spend much time waiting in long lines at gas
stations to buy gasoline at 3 times that price and would even be limited to
buying only small amounts each time. My Lord was most gracious to me to
take me out of the U.S. just before fuel became a major
problem to most souls in our nation for many months. Also,
for the following 10 years and 8 months or so, my Lord leads me to live in
Japan without owning my own motor vehicle, but rather walking, riding bicycles
and public buses and trains. I was most abundantly blessed
to experience that long period of a “car-less” life.
I
fly from Memphis, Tennessee to southern Arizona to visit my sister, her husband
(Tom) and small son (Tommy). The bright clear sky over the
Arizona desert lift my spirits after the gloomy dark rainy morning in
Mississippi. I’m most glad to see Janiece and her
family again and greatly enjoy the time I spend with them, visiting nearby
tourist attractions and such. Tommy is happy to see his Uncle Richard. I stay 2 or 3 nights with them and then fly on to Los Angeles on
Saturday December 1st.
On
this day (1 December 1973) the Marine Corps promotes me from first lieutenant
to captain. It makes me plenty happy to get that
promotion in rank (and pay).
“Congratulations,
Captain Yerby!”
‘Thank
you!’
Arriving in Los Angeles I spend that night in
a hotel. The following morning (Dec. 2) I depart LA on
a Boeing 747 Jumbo heading for a stop at Honolulu, Hawaii before flying on to
Tokyo. It is my 1st time to be around that
big bird. Sitting inside it I think, ‘This plane cabin is unbelievably large! I
have no desire to pilot such a monstrosity. I like flying the small, fast
military jets with only 1 or 2 souls aboard!’
By
now I am looking forward to the upcoming experience of living a year in Japan
to learn of life there. ‘Seeing Japan will be a fantastic climax to my active
duty time in the Marines! Then I’ll return to the U.S. to live, study at
a Bible college and then become an evangelist for the rest of my life.’ Little
did I know, that God was taking me to Japan to serve
Him in this Asian land for the rest of my life. I am most thankful to My Lord
for doing that with my life.
My
upbringing in poverty (doing much strenuous manual labor on an old-fashioned
farm) was a most blessed heritage that rewarded me with numerous benefits that
last a lifetime (for example, a mind that is set on working, working hard!). Next,
college life was most enjoyable (as I have told you in plenty detail). After
college, it has been a most rich experience to live in 3
various locales in the U.S., going to church in each locale to meet and
fellowship with Christians (while becoming a full fledged Navy/Marine pilot of
jet attack aircraft).
Upon
going out from my boyhood country home at age 19, I chose a university in a
small, lovely town. Next, during my 4 years and almost 3 months of military
active duty stateside, I belonged to the Marine Corps for them to throw me from
pillar to post upon any whim desire and decision of theirs. I am most blessed that I never had to live in a large city or
metropolitan area during that time. I praise my God for fighting for me to
thwart the Marine Corps attempt to send me to the southern California crowded
coastal area of much abominable sin!
The 2 previous paragraphs proclaim (in a nutshell) my abundantly
blessed life thus far, as this Jumbo Jet hauls me over the wide Pacific Ocean
toward Hawaii. But by far, the best lays ahead, life
in Japan as a missionary. However, on this flight “across the waters” in early
December 1973, I have no idea that is what the future holds for me. I am
thankful that I know my Creator Who holds the future!
My
plane lands at Honolulu during the daytime, but clouds obscured the lovely
beach and island scenery below much of the time we descend into and then climb
out from the airport after a layover of more than 2 hours. Being desirous to
“see Hawaii” I strain to catch short glimpses of the scenery thru breaks in the
clouds as I peer out the plane’s tiny window, departing my native land for the
1st time. Let’s start the 3rd
major change in my life here.
3a I
travel from my native land to an Asian nation.
Darkness
overtakes us as we approach Japan, cross the International Date Line and thus
Sunday becomes Monday 3 December. The vast majority of the passengers on this
flight are Japanese, making me feel like I’m already
in Japan as I fly with them. Before the “Fasten Seat Belts” sign lights up on
our descent into Tokyo, many Japanese are standing up and walking around in the
cabin to get the best view (thru the portholes) of the lights of Tokyo. Gasps
of excitement escape from them upon each good sighting they get as the plane
turns, goes thru thin clouds and such. (Nowadays, more than 41 years later, at
such a time they don’t even take their eyes off the
high tech gadget they are holding.) God gives us a safe landing at Haneda
Airport about 8 PM. Farm boy Richard is now in the Land of the Rising Sun!
There
are several of us military guys on this flight, Air
Force, Marines, and possibly Navy. Following orders and directions (from I
forget whom), several of us load onto a bus that takes
us to Yokota Air Force Base at the edge of Tokyo.
As
the bus drives thru some of downtown Tokyo on the Metropolitan Express Highway,
buildings are so very close to that Expressway in crowded Tokyo. As our bus
travels this elevated expressway past the 2nd
or 3rd floors of nearby office buildings, I peer into those lighted
offices to see the workers inside working at close to 9 PM. ‘The Japanese must
be hard workers.’ That was my 1st
main impression of the Japanese race just 30 minutes or so after leaving
the airport. And it was a most accurate assessment
of them.
Arriving
onto Yokota AF Base, our bus 1st goes to the BOQ to drop off all us
officers and then takes the enlisted men aboard on to their quarters. We
officers go into the BOQ lobby to be assigned rooms
for the night. Marine Captain Jim R. is on this flight with me from California.
Just as I, he is being transferred from Cherry Point
to Iwakuni. We 2 chatted together in the Honolulu airport on our layover there.
He was an A-6 BN instructor in VMT 202 at Cherry Point when I entered that
training squadron in April 1972. As I trained in 202, he flew beside me in the
navigator’s seat on several flights. So we know each
other well. He’s 4 years or more senior to me (as a
Marine officer and also in age).
We
officers arriving at Yokota this night are being assigned to double rooms. Jim
and I take a room together because we know each other. It’s
after 11 PM by now, and with much jet lag I’m ready for a good night’s rest. We
2 soon each rack out in separate single beds. Jim is a smoker. A while after I
drift into sleep, I’m awakened by Jim coughing. So he sits up in bed, lights a cigarette, smokes it and then
goes back to bed, repeating that pitiful routine a total of 2 or more times
before we get up in the morning. The stinking smoke and coughing kept me awake
much of the night, robbing me of needed rest. Later on in the morning (likely
at breakfast together), I say something very low key to Jim about his
smoking.
“I
don’t smoke too much!” was
his quick, adamant, defensive reply. I felt sorry for Captain Jim, seeing what his addiction to nicotine was like, and him denying the health
danger he was in.
We have
one whole day at Yokota. The next “military” flight from Yokota to
Iwakuni will be the following day (Wednesday 5 December 1973). That gives us
this free day at Yokota (Dec. 4) with nothing to do. Jim and I walk around
together on base and seeing a bicycle rental shop, we
each rent a bicycle, pedal them out the base’s gate and ride around in that
city of Fussa to see what we might see. I think Captain Jim had
been stationed in Japan before (or had at least passed thru Japan going
to and from Viet Nam).
This
is my 1st time to see Asia, so this country
boy is “all eyes”! Crowded Japan seems like a miniature world, most everything
built by man being so compact and small in size
compared to American life that I’m accustomed to. As Jim and I pedal along sidewalks,
we come upon road construction. When I see a worker sitting on a tiny “front
hoe” digging a small trench with it, I just naturally laugh at how small that
machine is. ‘That looks like a toy a boy would find under the Christmas tree on
Christmas morning.’ Jim laughs with me.
From
this day on, daily observing the Japanese around me I saw much wisdom in their
work; using the smallest machine that will do the job and innovative methods to
reduce required human energy. This day, I observe two workers team up to
manually shovel slag. One end of a 10-foot rope is tied
to the neck of the shovel held by one man. His teammate faces him holding the
other end of the rope. The shovel holder places the shovel point into the
desired spot on the pile of slag, but does not push it into the slag to get a
shovel full. The shovel man only guides it as the rope man pulls the shovel,
loading it, then pulls it more to free the shovel from the pile, and then
relaxes his pull in good timing as the shovel holder raises and throws his
shovel-full exactly where he wants it to go. I had never seen anything like it
before. It was fascinating and educating!
Upon
arriving in Japan last night, I saw plenty of office workers still at work
about 9 PM. Today (1st full day in Japan), I observe their efficient
methods of work that are new to me. I am quickly gleaning wisdom. And I’m thankful that what I saw rubbed off on me, causing
me to work long and hard while striving to use the most efficient methods on
any and every job.
At
every opportunity, I thrill to read of, or listen to missionaries thru out the
world tell of the things they see or experience that are unique to the nation
where they minister. I hear some missionaries say that the locals they minister
are generally lazy, so the missionaries must buffet themselves not to let that
tendency to be lazy rub off on them. Nowadays (2016) when I visit the U.S. for
a while, I find myself musing…‘In general Americans don’t go about their daily
tasks as diligently as the Japanese do.’
The
following day, 5 December, along with other military men, Jim and I board
either an Air Force C-141 or a small commercial airliner and fly to Iwakuni.
That plane lets off a few of us and flies on to bases in Okinawa and possibly
on to bases in the Philippines. Flying into Iwakuni, I peer out
the plane’s window at the runway with the ocean close on one side and
steep mountains close on the opposite side of it. When I previously took off
and landed in flat Oklahoma and flat coastal North Carolina, there were no
steep mountains near the airfield inviting me to crash into them. ‘I’m going to
have to be a careful pilot when I approach and depart this air patch so as not
to get plastered against a mountain, especially at night!’
A
base taxi or small bus takes us officers to the BOQ office. I am assigned a room in which to abide. I walk to the room,
put my 2 heavy bags in my area of the double room and
soon go to the officers’ chow hall for supper. After eating, I set up a few of
my things in my room before soon falling asleep with jet lag (and after the
previous 2 nights of Captain Jim’s smoke drifting into my lungs and his
coughing assaulting my ears).
“Good
night, Captain Yerby. Welcome to Japan! Yoku irasshai!”