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 pilot and starting my lifetime calling from my God to be His missionary in Japan. This monumental “change in life” is likely 2^nd in Spiritual importance to my conversion and salvation.)

I welcome the arrival of September 1974 because the fatiguing summer heat starts abating and cool days soon begin to dot the calendar. Autumn 1974 at Iwakuni Marine Corps Air Station was golden to my soul. The mild pleasant weather just seemed to continue forever (well into December). God seemed to be telling me that He was going to give me a golden life of preaching Christ in Japan for many blessed years. And praise God He has done just that, to a much greater degree than I ever dreamed of.

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. Chapel services are cancelled on base. I walk to the nearby chow hall in the late morning at brunch time. After brunch, they close the chow hall because winds were getting stronger. So they don’t serve supper. In my room all day with my Lord (a Shelter in time of storm), I read the Bible, 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 walk 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”; keening listening for Japanese words I have already learned. I kept up that listening practice for many years.

I found 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 hanger, apparent suicide. My executive officer tells me that Group 12 now plans to put its guard detail under my supervision. 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 and rejoice to fly around high above all the tragedies and problems on the Marine Base below. Reader friend, a soul feels so free high up in the sky (the 1^st heaven), playing around in a highly maneuverable military jet plane. One must experience it to fully understand it. I thank God for allowing me such adventure.

Saturday 7 September: I (and 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 us to help them with the 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 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 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 (21^st), we 4 pilots fly our 2 birds 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” ⑦) 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. ⑯ 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 us all 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 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 active duty. His “firm” word today ends a 5 month “unsettled” period of time when I didn’t know how badly I (who am most desirous to be in Japan) would be tossed about (location wise) while on Marine duty in the Pacific area. Today’s good news brings a wonderfully calm peace to my soul, thank God.

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 many 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 be going a little too far.’

Things become 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, 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 is 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 increase 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 and ask if Japanese 103 is being offered. “Yes.” Thank Thee, Lord, for answering prayer. I sign up for it.

Saturday 19 October: I walk over to the admin office in 3^rd Wing Headquarters and inquire about getting my discharge here at Iwakuni. They don’t really care to hear of such a desire (extra paperwork for them) and let on like it would not be approved (so why bother). Still, I 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.

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 why is he desirous to stay in Asia?” I would think the “powers to be” in D.C. would 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 and 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 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 pilot and I brief, strap in 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’ve told them it wouldn’t fly.

Wednesday 23 October: 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. 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.”

‘Absolutely!’

“The court martial judge should have made Colonel H. pay 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. Again a young Korean 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 already written. ‘Give this to Major Chung.’ She nods her head. I hurry away, stop into a clothing store on the way back and 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 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.

“That was a long sentence, writer boy.”

‘It was a long day, reader boy.’

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) 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, go to supper at my chow hall and call the 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 and buy a ticket on the 9:52 sleeper train. I call Fred Hersey and 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 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 sons, Samuel and Steven, are each spaced apart on the platform at Tokyo Station and I spot each of them as my train slows to a stop. 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 on the back of his motorcycle with him to ride to a night church service nearby. Piloting fast Marine jets is not near as scary as riding on a motorcycle 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.) Then we all 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 (some did), and finally watch many 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 AFB 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 1 son as Fred drives us to Yokota this afternoon. I show my ID at the gate and in we go. They had given me a “want list” of what they longed to eat. I bought some of all 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 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. 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 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. 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 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 and leaves 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 back into uniform and report to work (turning in my leave papers). It’s a joy to see that I have lots of mail from the States waiting for me. More 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 and many of themselves aboard Navy ships here at Iwakuni Port to sail to the Philippines. Thank God I am not involved (steadfast and unmovable), planted in Japan by Almighty God, my All. My nice 2^nd 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”.

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 alive until rescue arrives. Today is my 1^st time to have to wear that suit this fall. 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.

Our plane’s radio becomes intermittent upon reaching Osan. Much colder here. I 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 to inquire about getting a visa to stay in Japan. (They are open till noon on Saturday). 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 tell him that 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, giving me full assurance that it’s the Lord’s Will for me study there. Tonight, I call Bill from a pay phone.

‘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 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 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 1^st, 1974 arrives on a Sunday: The “Freedom Bird” (that takes us “home”) comes thru Iwakuni twice a week, headed for Yokota. Had I not extended my stay in Japan, I would board it on Dec. 2^nd at the latest, but likely would have flown out on it right at the last of November. This nice old wooden building housing MABS 12 offices on its 2^nd floor faces the airfield. Part of the passenger terminal area is visible from the open walkway on the 2^nd floor.

Since arriving here a year ago (Dec. 5^th), walking up and down that walkway during my workday, I observe fellow Marines standing at that banister on this 2^nd floor, staring longingly at the Freedom Bird on the tarmac twice a week or so and counting their days remaining on 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 the words of life to millions of lost, idol worshipping Japanese 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 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 and 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: “Hams” calls me at work wanting me to go fly a cross-country to Korea now. I refuse it.” It was 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 5^th 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 “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 firing shotguns at the skeet range, keeping in practice.

“Captain Yerby, it’s been a long time since you fired a 12-gage shotgun. 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.

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 wired 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 25^th. My 2^nd Christmas in Japan: I spend the entire day in my room with Jesus. Fasting. Praying. Reading The Holy Bible. No feasting. 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.

Thursday 26 December: Back to work.

Friday 27 December: Immigration office 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. 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 takes 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 prints I had made to give to her. So I give them to her now. She receives them as a treasure.

The atmosphere was just a little strained. I knew better than to linger long. So I bid her 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 thanked me, but none was very talkative. I tell them I’m leaving Iwakuni soon, bid them Farewell and depart. Granny and her grandkids (and the kids’ friends) were the first Japanese souls to win my heart. Their memories are a treasure.

In April 1978, I will travel back to Iwakuni from Karuizawa and again walk out here and pay this family a visit. They will tell me that Granny died quite shortly after I paid this visit today (dying 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) 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: 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., get your drinking carcass over here to bind up your Marine’s wounds and commend him for behaving so Marine-like!’

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 (lady in kimono) doll 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.

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 tomorrow. I return to my office and 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 for the next 6 hours because I need some sleep before flying Asian high skies 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 wing 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 and 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 pictures (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 is down 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” ⑮ 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.

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 of 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 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 and keying his intercom button to tell his pilot up front to turn NOW before a commie missile blasts us to smithereens. But he isn’t watching his TACAN.

So this farm boy keys his radio. ‘Lead, we were 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 the 2 distances of the first 2 legs and intends to fly 19 miles 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 out. We are off course and soon to be in Red China airspace.

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.

“Farm boy turned 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!’

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. 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 single engine propeller plane).

Truly it was 5 years of 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 jets ever did.

Thursday 23 January: Tonight is my 1^st class in Japanese 104, my 4^th and last language class 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. The last teacher, Mrs. Hinahara really spoiled us (most proficient with English). She had previously lived in Birmingham, Alabama for more than a year, possibly 3 or so.

“I had lived there almost a year before I realized that ‘sho-nuf’ was 2 words.” (“Sure enough”)

‘Well, welcome to Alabama, Japanese lady. Get with the local language program here in Bama. It’s “sho-nuf” colorful!’

Friday 24 January: I am 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 and 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 pictures at their Christmas party and give them copies today. They happily receive them.

Wednesday 29 January: I’m scheduled to sit in a court martial 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. 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 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 till 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.

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.

The 1^st month of this new year ends and 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 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 space to store my small personal bag. But I’m able to take much baggage aboard this “passenger” plane. I get the last available seat on a plane flying back to Iwakuni tonight, arriving 9 PM.

Monday 3 February: Again, 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. I walk off base to do a little business in stores off base (for the last time in my life), come back onto base and soon take the bus to Yong San U.S. Army compound in Seoul. I get a BOQ room for the night and eat a good supper in the officers’ club.

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 sons some of them.) 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’m 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 an 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 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. Then 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 military planes to all these Asian military bases. 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 boarding time to sail to Japan and I’m forbidden to go. 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 has no “Shot card” 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”, record it on my “shot card” and give the other guy written proof. Then the taxi gets us back to the dock in time to board. Deep relief!

The boat sails. I talk with the American. He is in the Peace Corps. The boat arrives Shimonoseki at 1 AM and sets in the bay till 8 AM when the immigration officials come to work. Poor timing. It’s noisy in the large bare room aboard ship where many of us lowest class passengers sit or lie 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 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 own chow hall, much relieved to be back home. I relax the rest of the day with slight smallpox fever, still on leave.

Thursday 6 February: Back to work at MABS 12. All my many traveling adventures as a Marine 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 break.’

Sunday 9 February: I go 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 the personal picture as her own. A most blessed time!

Monday 10 February: I put on my winter service uniform and go to 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 years later), the joy (of soon being free of daily putting on the prescribed uniform) is steadily increasing. 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 in 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 and take my last military medical checkup. Then I go to dispersing and draw the last of my 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 and 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 an officer being discharged (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). My CO is in the Philippines. We aren’t having many AOM’s now (morning meetings). There is almost no fanfare over this captain’s discharge. I like it that way. Simple is best.

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 Japanese.

Marine Corps Air Base Iwakuni has its own TV station, broadcasting American TV for homesick Americans to watch. I observed several Marines buying a cheap TV 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.

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 the children. Men friends of Mr. Sakata show up and 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 a 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”. Lord, please enable me to plainly preach Truth to these perishing Japanese in their tongue.

One day this week, I was in my room reading and studying while listening to a Japanese radio station for hearing practice. A news bulletin came 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 knew it was likely they were in a TA-4 Skyhawk (and thus I likely knew them). I strained to understand the Japanese newscaster but couldn’t catch everything. He spoke of 2 parachutes and of a Japanese fishing boat speeding to the pilots as they came 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. (It might have been 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” ⑧ 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 16 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. Therefore I desire to render utmost thanks to God for sparing me in that deadly adventure of military flying, by serving God to the utmost for all my 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 has a BOQ room. He kindly offers his vacant BOQ room to me 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 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. Each week, I can speak Japanese just a little better. Every little bit helps.

Thursday 6 March: Previously, I met Mr. Sakata’s sister at his house. She invited me to her house for a meal today, along with Mr. and Mrs. Sakata and one other Japanese lady. Mr. Sakata’s sister spoke quite good English, was amazed that I am staying in Japan, was most delighted over that, and spoke 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 tore at my heartstrings as I bid Farewell to those crippled children, their mothers and others who were there.

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 precious to me thru out my earthly journey.

Spring is in the air. Warmer days. I wear short sleeve shirts during the day. Sure feels good to visit out in Japan much and to be completely free of Marine Corps command and the uniform of the day.

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 and 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 Group 12 Mailroom that address and tell them to forward any mail for me on to Karuizawa. I shake hands with all the Marines in my office, commend the enlisted Marines who worked under me and leave my last Marine post for the last time (that comfortable, quaint office space in that old wooden building). I liked it.

The fellow captain friend who let me move into his vacant BOQ room is my replacement at work. 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 the 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. The taxi takes me to Iwakuni Station where 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 best fisher of men.

On to Chapter 31

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