Chapter 3

I exercised and played a lot of sports; I took to running around the perimeter of the base early each morning; about six miles as I wound around a bit. The base was unofficially divided into two main sections, with the flightline, taxiways, and runways dividing the two sections. I worked in what was called ‘Mainside’; the base headquarters, hospital, exchange, and most of the base support building were located there. Our side of the base had all the A-6 aircraft, plus a few cargo and light transport planes; and the hangers for them. This was the older part of the base; from when the Japanese was using it. ‘Wingside’ was newer; many of the building were temporary structures that were still in use, 20 years later. The A-4 and F-4 aircraft were on that side of the base, those hangers were smaller; and the Corps was just starting to build new stuff. The base golf course was on that side; something the Japanese military didn’t have.

I discovered there was a small part of the Japanese National Defense Force on base in that area; tucked away, next to the bay. Specifically; part of the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force. What they had there was two of the old WWII flying boats, used mostly for reconnaissance and observation. High-wing, four-engine, propeller-driven; they were huge and obviously took a lot of maintenance and effort to keep them flying. They had a large hanger back there, and a concrete ramp leading down into the bay; once a month or so they would get one out of the hanger, get it fired up on the ramp, and taxi it down and into the water. The plane would move out into the bay; and, if everything went well, take off; and come back.

The base wasn’t involved with them, they even had their own gate back there; it was pretty impressive to watch the planes take off and land. Not many Marines ran around the base and I had to run past a bulletin board the announced the flight schedule; I tried to get back there and watch when it happened. I got acquainted with a few of the Japanese servicemen; and chatted with them. Eventually, I made friends with one of them; he figures prominently in my story, later on.

One of the things that I really liked about Iwakuni was all the music. Not the radio station; that changed focus every hour. Current hits, country and western, rhythm and blues; they even had a polka hour, but fortunately that was only once a week; you name the genre; they played it.

The Japanese had been making quality stereo equipment for a while; it was very good and fairly cheap, both in the base music store and out in town. A lot of the guys bought a nice set of equipment so they could play the music they like; it wasn’t unusual to find that half of their wall locker was filled with equipment and media. All the individual barracks rooms had a rule about no speakers, just headphones; though that was sometimes ignored, when everyone agreed on a choice of music. I bought a small stereo with a built-in tuner and double cassette deck, and a nice pair of headphones too. The big thing, as far as I was concerned, was the music ‘club’; they had a nice setup in a building close by with a half dozen sets of equipment, and thousands of records and tapes that you could listen to; again via headphones.

I could buy a box of a dozen 90-minute cassette blanks for $5, then go to the music club and record anything I wanted. By the time I left Iwakuni, I had a couple hundred self-recorded cassettes; some complete albums; others my own version of the best hits by one artist, from several of their albums and releases. I also had a couple dozen cassettes of individual hits by artists that weren’t that popular; and odd music that I just liked, sometimes odd music that it seemed only I liked.

The base music store also had a limited selection of instruments for sale; mostly guitars and the like, but there was an accordion that hung on the wall the entire time I was there. They did catalog sales, if they didn’t have what you wanted, you could order it. One of my room-mates ordered a pair of professional-grade studio speakers, each one weighing a couple hundred pounds; fortunately he just had them shipped directly home. Speaking of catalog sales, we even had a Harley- Davidson dealer on base, with a HD Sportster displayed in his little shop. His sales were shipped directly to a Marine’s home in the states, I was sure the Sportster was his; you could hear him rumbling around the base from time to time.

It was a Saturday afternoon one late summer day, and I had nothing to do. I wandered through the exchange, and ended up in the music store; and back in the corner where the new guitars were arrayed. I had been admiring a very nice Gibson acoustic guitar for months; and the sales girl had been urging me to give it a try for weeks. What the hell; I was never going to buy it, but there wasn’t any harm in strumming it a little; this afternoon I agreed. She got it down and handed it to me; I examined it closely, just like I knew what I was doing; JB was the guitar expert, I just played a few chords. It was badly out of tune; she gave me a pick and her sales pitch as I worked on it. A few minutes later and I had it pretty close, ‘close enough for government work’, I couldn’t help but think; I strummed a few chords, and she brought her stool around the counter so I could sit down. I fiddled with it a little more, pretty much facing her and away from the store; then thought, what the hell again. I picked a simple intro, then started on one of my favorite Beatles songs;

What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song,
And I’ll try not to sing out of key

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mmm, I get high with a little help from my friends.
Ooh, gonna try with a little help from my friends.

A little bit of a bridge, the then I went into the second verse;

What do I do when my love is away?
Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
Are you sad because you’re on your own?

No, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mmm, get high with a little help from my friends.
Mmm, gonna try with a little help from my friends.

I was going to stop there; but the sales girl was smiling broadly, my voice sounded pretty good, and; what the hell for the third time, I was having a good time and had nothing else to do.

Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.

Would you believe in a love at first sight?

Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can’t tell you but I know it’s mine.

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends.
Ooh, I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends.

Do you need anybody?
I just need someone to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.

I really was just going to end it right there, but the sales girl motioned me to turn around; and there was a couple dozen customers and staff gathered around, obviously enjoying what I was doing. Oh well, there’s only a little more; I did one more break; telling them they had to join in with me now, then continued;

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends.
Ooh, I get high with a little help from my friends.
Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends.
With a little help from my frieeeeeends.

Many had sung along; I got a nice round of applause, I told the crowd, “Okay friends, we need to work on that last line some more”; then tried to hand the guitar back to the sales girl. It took a while before she took it from me; she was really disappointed when I wouldn’t let her ring it up, even when she said she could get me a free case. I gave her back her stool, accepted a few positive comments; then turned and ran right into Lt. Allison Martin in civilian clothes, staring at me.

“Well, Lt. Martin; at least we aren’t meeting in the hospital this time,” I told her after a couple seconds, “How are you doing, ma’am?”

“What was that?!! You sing and play guitar?”

“Yes ma’am; some, back in the States. How’s it going at the hospital?”

“Some? That was incredible!”

“I thought it was okay. I signed up to donate blood at the hospital, ma’am.”

“Would you stop talking about the hospital! And stop calling me ‘ma’am’; call me Allison.”

I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, but I’m not going to argue, not at the moment. “Okay; I guess you liked the song?”

“We talked for several hours a few weeks ago, and you never mentioned being a musician.”

“It didn’t have anything to do me being in the hospital.”

“We talked that night about a lot more than how you ended up in the hospital. I thought we connected a little.”

I paused, then said; “We did. But you are an officer, and I’m enlisted; even worse, you are a female Naval officer, and I’m a pretty junior male enlisted Marine; connections like that are frowned upon, severely frowned upon.”

She just looked at me for a couple seconds; “I want to learn more about you. Come with me, we need to talk!”

Oh no, not that dreaded phrase; and I’m not sure what we need to talk about. She led me out of the music store and into the nearby cafeteria, where she claimed us an empty table and sat down. I was still standing; “Would you like something to drink, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, I’d like a Diet Pepsi, or a Tab, please. And stop with the ‘ma’am’ and Lieutenant, call me Allison; we’re both in civilian clothes, and no-one in here knows us.”

I looked around; nobody I know is in sight; I got our drinks and came back to the table; I gave the Tab to her, and sat down and waited. Can’t get in much trouble if I keep my mouth shut. Besides, she’s the one that wants to talk; maybe I can get a hint about what. She waited me out.

“Okay, Allison; you liked the song?”

“It’s one of my favorites. I really know nothing about you, do I?”

“You know a little.”

“After that performance, I want to learn a lot more. I know I’m an officer, and you’re enlisted; but I really liked talking to you, with you the couple times we had the chance. You are first, a very interesting man; I have to wonder what other interesting things about you I don’t know? I’m thinking I’d like to be friends with you.”

I just looked at her for several seconds, thinking furiously; there are many ways this could end up badly, at least for her. “Okay, Allison, I’m Carl; in civilian clothes, I guess; I liked talking with you too. I would like to get to know you better, be friends; but even that would piss off the military. It wouldn’t hurt me much, but you...”

“At the moment, I don’t care about that,” she quietly said. “The few men around me I can casually talk to don’t interest me; nothing like how you interest me. I just need some intelligent conversation from an attractive man from time to time. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe we’ll find we don’t mesh, but I’d like to try.”

“Allison; how do we do that?”

“We just meet somewhere quiet, in civilian clothes, and talk; just like we’re talking now.”

I sat there for a few seconds, thinking and smiling at her; she was very easy to look at. “I’m in the library 2-3 times a week; I’m there pretty much every Wednesday evening for an hour or so at 7. You want to start there?”

“That’s fine,” she smiled back; “but I’m not doing anything this afternoon. Tell me about your music.”

That’s how it started, just casually chatting in the exchange cafeteria. That first afternoon we mostly talked about ‘my music’; my mistake was telling her how my Marine Corps buddy had taught me enough guitar to get up on stage with him in Nashville. That statement led to dozens of questions, and we talked for a couple hours; I mentioned I had a couple pictures of me and JB on stage playing, she wanted to see them sometime. That talk lasted through 2 drink refills, and a sushi snack platter; at the end we both agreed it had been a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon. We made a deal; the next time I’d talk about myself for 30 minutes, then she’d talk about herself; and that we’d see each other next Wednesday evening at the library.

Saturday, I went back out in town for my favorite meal. I talked to Akiko for most of an hour, and a few of the patrons tried again to explain to me the nuances of sumo wrestling; not much subtlety, I thought. I told Akiko that she’d probably see me in here every week or so, but she didn’t have to talk to me if she didn’t want to; she just smiled and waved me away. I did stop in a couple of the pawn shops and checked out their used guitars; many were junk or damaged, but they had a few nice ones. I didn’t play any of them; I still wasn’t seriously considering buying another guitar.

Work continued to go well. There were a couple other Marines there that worked on the equipment I did; we got along pretty well and all of us worked on up-grading the power supplies, and making sure all braces were installed in the adapter box. Again it was noticed; the three of us were recognized this time.

My conversational Japanese had come a long way; if I ran into a word that I didn’t know the Japanese equivalent for, I found another way. Library, for example; I’d substitute ‘room of books’, and I’d be given the correct word. Use it a couple times, and I was set.

The meeting with Allison in the base library was nice; though I kinda screwed up. As I was leaving my room, I remembered she wanted to see the pictures of JB and me playing in Nashville; I just grabbed my briefcase and took it with me. I’d forgotten what all was in there. A bunch of pictures that Angie had taken of my ladies and me, some from Erie; the sketch by Trish; copies of my decorations and awards, with the write-up explaining why I’d gotten them; copies of the grades I gotten taking the various CLEP exams; plus my ribbons, medals, and shooting badges. Once she realized that I pretty much had the history of my adult life in there, she wanted to go through it all. We are supposed to be taking turns talking about ourselves, didn’t happen that night; we agreed to meet again the next Wednesday.

Those Wednesday meetings got to be very nice; we did ‘mesh’ and we became friends, and I learned a lot about her. Our childhoods had been wildly different; her parents had never moved; she graduated in the top of her high school class, and got a partial scholarship to Missouri State. She had signed up with the Navy to get them to pay for part of her schooling, and still owned them a couple more years of duty for that. She wouldn’t give me her age, but it was easy to figure she was in her late 20’s. She thought I was in my mid-20’s; and was surprised I had just turned 21. Eventually I ended up talking about my ladies; and I told her about my friendship with Akiko; most of it, anyhow.

In early September, I was literally running around the base; and stopped to talk to one of the Japanese militia men, Haruto was his name. I mentioned going to Hiroshima and wanted to go again, he thought it would be a great idea if we went together; he could show me around. A little bit of a discussion and we decided to meet at the visitor’s center Saturday morning, and take the train into Hiroshima.

We went, and he dragged me all over town. We went to Peace Park and he gave me more of the details of the Hiroshima atomic bombing, and the Japanese perspective. We talked about that a lot, and decided it had to happen; or the war would have dragged on for at least another year, and hundreds of thousands more would have died. We went to a Hiroshima Carp ballgame; they were doing very well that year and were expected to go to their championship playoff. A very different atmosphere; the cheering was very orchestrated, and the food different. You could get a hotdog and peanuts, but Haruto insisted we try the Japanese offerings. Not bad and I got my yakisoba, the fried noodles; not as good as my favorite restaurant, but still good.