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Memories of Japan
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Memories of Japan
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After several hours in a train the condition and speed of which was reminiscent of the New Zealand variety, we arrived in Yamaguchi in the late afternoon. At the station we were met by a U.S. Marine NCO who invited us to their camp where the Marines had laid on a hot meal for us. It was a very good meal indeed, and we found our hosts excellent types.
The barracks allotted to the units to be stationed at Yamaguchi had been wrecked by Japanese vandals. Windows had been smashed, doors and walls kicked in, light fittings removed, wiring torn out etc etc. My assistant, Gunner Tom Cole, and I had the unenviable task of making the place habitable before the rest of the Battery arrived.
But the cream of the joke was that we were to pay the local civilians to repair the damage they had done! Labourers were to receive the equivalent in yen of three shillings sterling a day, and tradesmen six.
Fortunately, in the 25 Bty barrack block a store-room full of American rations had been well-secured and having no windows its contents were intact. Although 'run-of-the-mill' according to American standards, almost every item was to us a luxury. There was canned chicken, canned turkey, orange juice, tomato juice etc etc, as well as a quantity of fresh potatoes - probably of New Zealand origin - which we had not seen since we had left "Godzone'. For the two or three weeks these rations lasted we lived like lords!
Among the rations were several dozen cakes of chewing tobacco called 'Old Mule'. As none of us chewed tobacco we tried to smoke it but it would not burn. We then tried to 'hock' it to the Japanese but found they knew all about it; obviously the "Yanks" had also tried to 'hock' it! Old Mule proved a dead loss.
Also more or less intact were two workshops, one containing wood-working machinery, the other engineering equipment. As an independent battery we had our own LAD for whom the latter proved most useful.
To return to the job in hand, each Advance Party NCO had to assess the nature and amount of work to be done in his particular barrack block, gauge the number of tradesmen/labourers he could handle, then demand them on a daily basis from the local civilian authority. The latter then allocated the bodies on a morning 'Parade' held for the purpose.
This 'parade' never ceased to intrigue me. The local headman would put out his markers exactly according to 'Drill All Arms', order "Labourers on No 1, carpenters on No 2 etc etc - Get on Parade." Immediately the assembled horde of down-at-heel civilians would come to attention, march smartly on to their markers, pick up their dressing, and stand properly at ease in as orderly a manner as on an Army Schools parade! Obviously they had all undergone military training.
The headman would then detail the lucky ones who would fall out and report to their respective Advance Party NCOS. Those who had missed out he would then dismiss.
In an early allocation of labourers I had an unexpected stroke of luck; among the squad was a student whose aim in life was to become a member of the Diplomatic Corps, but whose family was unable to pay for his university training. He was therefore obliged to work for a term to raise enough money to pay for his next term at university. His name was Tadagori Teranishi (we called him 'Ted' for short), and as he already spoke quite good English his assistance in translating my instructions to the workers proved invaluable. Not only was he a very willing worker, he always looked on the bright side of things. In addition he materially assisted me with my Japanese vocabulary. I hope he achieved his ambition.
Generally speaking the tradesmen worked well, but some of the labourers proved 'awkward,' and had to be 'encouraged' by Tom who carried a one-inch thick bamboo stick for the purpose. If a Jap gave trouble I would say, "Tom, bamboo stick," whereupon Tom would deliver two or three sharp swipes across the awkward one's backside while I covered him with my pistol in case of trouble. Of course such treatment was highly illegal, but I was not prepared to stand any nonsense.
Especially awkward were two or three Japanese who had signed up for kamikaze units but had been frustrated by the war coming to an end before they could fulfill their obligations to the Emperor, i.e. donate their lives. Usually they performed only once; Tom's bamboo stick greatly discouraged encores!
If any reader takes exception to our actions let him or her remember the thousands of prisoners-of-war the Japanese Army starved and worked to death - or murdered - in their POW camps.
The Yamaguchi camp was infested with rats some of which were 'almost as big as rabbits'. For a time we had great fun taking pot-shots through the barrack windows at these animals which frequented an open drain alongside the building. But spoil-sport neighbours complained to the authorities about the ricochets, so we were advised - not ordered - to desist,because if we killed someone, even a Jap, 'things might get awkward!'
Rat-shooting was good fun; we missed it, as there was little to amuse us in Yamaguchi. Few shops displayed any stock; those shopkeepers with any goods of value had hidden them in the country, fearing wholesale looting by our troops. Eventually, after they found we were not quite as bad as their Government had painted us, they began to produce things.
Japanese propaganda had indeed 'painted' us. When a few of us took our first stroll from the barracks into the city all the 'mums' screamed at their kids playing in the street to come inside - and slammed the doors behind them! When I asked Ted the reason for this peculiar behaviour he said the Japanese Government had told the population that all New Zealanders were black, that we were all cannibals, and that we particularly liked small children! The locals soon woke up; when they found we were not all black, nor did we knock any of their kids on the head and cook them, they became quite friendly.
Fraternisation with the population was forbidden early in the occupation by BCOF Headquarters, but the rule was soon relaxed. It would have been impossible to police, and no one took any notice of it anyway.
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A brewery was operating in Yamaguchi, and beer was available. It was quite palatable but like that obtained in Italy was very weak owing to the general shortage of sugar. In the evenings we would sit down to a dozen bottles each, and by 2000 hrs would be getting quite talkative.
To obtain supplies the powers-that-be ordained that each unit have an authorised 'beer Officer', but as we rarely saw an Officer, let alone one per unit, subterfuge became necessary: For 25 Battery I typed a letter authorising myself as 'beer Officer,' signed it with a fictitious signature, and presented it at the brewery. There it was accepted without question!
The beer was not very expensive, but strange to say the crates cost quite a bit more than their contents, so, having two regular carpenters on my 'staff,' a workshop, plus a good supply of timber, I put the tradesmen to work (in their spare time, of course) making crates. These Tom and I 'traded' in at the brewery.
But as Robbie Burns once said about the affairs of mice and men that 'gang aft agley' all good things come to an end. One day while at the brewery we watched the old Jap 'bottle-o' filling crates with empty bottles. He had one of our 'ring-in' crates but could get only 23 bottles into it (in Jap crates the bottles stood upright, not on their sides as in the current New Zealand variety). After considering the problem for some minutes and muttering to himself, the old bloke woke up. He departed for the office with the ring-in - and that was the end of our little game. Still there were no repercussions, and we did pretty well while it lasted.
We suspected one of the carpenters deliberately made the crate undersized but hesitated to tax them with their 'crime'.They were too useful in other respects.
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THE THINGS YOU FIND IN THE ODDEST PLACES
In another of our operations (a legitimate one), we struck trouble with Jap labourers. The latrines for our barrack block were of the 'deep hole variety,' i.e. each consisted of a shed with a row of built-in seats located over a trench. When the latter filled up a new trench was dug, the shed shifted over it, and the old trench filled in. On this occasion we had reached the stage when the squad was about to fill in the old trench, when I happened to glance down at the contents. There to my loudly-expressed annoyance were two of my shovels which had 'disappeared' plus a number of other useful articles, including a Jap rifle and a sword. So I ordered the squad to descend into the excreta and rescue the gear lying therein.
The reaction was not unexpected. There followed much hissing, muttering, and loud complaints that to do so would cause them to 'lose face', which they could not possibly do. But rescue the articles they did, with the aid of our pistol-bamboo stick drill. I then ordered them to wash everything in disinfectant. If looks could have killed.....
The sword was rather a good one, and after obtaining a certificate from the BC that I had obtained it honestly I brought it back to New Zealand where it later fetched a very good price.
The rifle, too, was rather special. It was a Model 99 (1939) 7.7-mm arm introduced to replace the Model 38 (1905) 6.5-mm Arisaka as the basic infantry weapon, but with the outbreak of war did not go into full production. I toyed with the idea of bringing it back to New Zealand where it would have proved a useful collector's piece, but feared the possibility of being caught with it by Customs. As it turned out I need not have feared, for Customs were quite uninterested in what was in our kitbags.
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AND THEN THERE WERE THE AMERICANS
Once we had settled in we took steps to return the hospitality of our friends in the U.S. Marine Corps who had welcomed us on our arrival, by throwing a party. Imagine our surprise when they turned up with a bus-load of screaming women, mostly of easy virtue. To our queries they replied,"Guess we thought you guys might like a bit of arse!" Needless to say a good time was had by all.
NB: The term 'arse' does not mean what you first thought it might mean. It is U.S. slang for 'a bit of skirt'.
The Marines informed us that they were about to depart for the United States, that they would be leaving quite a bit of equipment behind, and if we wanted any of it then we should be on hand before they went. We were. In fact their OC was rather hurt that we began loading gear into our vehicle before the Marines actually moved out. "You guys might have waited until we'd gone," he said. But we knew others had the same idea we had, and in those days 'you had to be quick' as the saying went.
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