Those Days in Muramatsu: One Woman's Memoir of Occupied Japan

Chapter 8: Getting to Know Each Other

CHAPTER 8 GETTING GETTING TO TO KNOW KNOW EA EACH CH OTHER OTHER What surprised the people and delighted the children of the town the next day was a number of jeeps and big army trucks that suddenly appeared from nowhere during the night. Whenever a truck or a jeep passed, children forgot that they were told to stay in quietly. They would run into the street, wave their hands and shout at the top of their voice, “Good-bye, Goodbye !” It was a few days afterward that they learned to say “Goodbye ! Hello!” The trucks were busily running back and forth between the station and the barracks carrying boxes and boxes of rations and what not. Thus, the busy days began for us interpreters. We stood in the yard all day long, interpreting orders for the station people. “Put that box-car No. 505 on this track, and when the unloading is through, sent it back to Shibata.” “Move that car over there a little forward so that the truck can go through the cars to the box-car on the other end.” “Switch that car over to this side.” And so on and so forth. The station people were smart enough to understand the soldiers by their signs in a day or two. But on the first day, they depended entirely upon our interpreting. For instance, when Johnson motioned the engine to move away, the driver drove it nearer instead, the sign being quite opposite to that of the Japanese. There were some misunderstandings of that sort, of course, but on the whole everything went on smoothly, and people cooperated eagerly. It was a bright day. The sun was shining and made us quite warm. “Let’s take a break,” Grey suggested and we sat down on one of the logs that were piled up in the yard. There were some other soldiers from the barracks to help with the loading and unloading. One of them who introduced himself as a radio man came to sit by us. He was a slender boy with remarkably beautiful eyes. Our conversation started as usual with “Where did you learn your English?”, and he told me about his experiences on the stage in New York. When his truck was ready to go, he reluctantly got up with, “So long! See you again.” I thought I should never forget this Mr. Tiezin and his most beautiful eyes, but when next time we met on the street, I disappointed him by flatly telling that I did not remember him. But he was to blame for that; he had his sunglasses on that day. At any rate, he had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. And so innocent looking! What made me happy while watching the soldiers and the Japanese workers was that the soldiers treated them quite nicely. Some were offering their cigarettes to those workers. They were farmers and people of the town requisitioned. They would go home and tell the folks what they had experienced, thus putting an end to groundless rumors and fears of the Americans, I was sure. People in the town had already begun to show their interest in the soldiers. When I was home on Sundays, neighbors came to me to ask about the soldiers. Soldiers came in that quiet neighborhood where I lived, and some of the neighbors invited them to come in. “Two of them came in the other day,” a neighbor told me. “They made a gesture of drinking and asked for sake. I said ‘No, no!’ Then, 38 they gave my little daughter a piece of candy and went away. It would be very interesting if I could speak English like you do. I was sorry because all I could say was ‘No, no’. If I had any sake, I would be very glad to treat them with sake, but we have had no ration for a long time, you know.” She really looked sorry to have refused them. Even my landlord, I was glad to know, was quite interested in what I was doing. Squatting by the fireplace in the center of the room, this eighty-year-old man would listen to me with “Is that so!” and “Well, I declare!” And he did not get too mad even when my little boy took his geta and sent them floating down the small brook that ran in...