This will be the last of the series of articles chronicling my experiences as a teenage soldier serving in the occupation of Japan. Seeing a picture of the Town of Webb 2011 high school class reminded me of my own graduation in 1946. It prompted me to reflect on the immediate futures of the present class and mine when I was in their place. The point being that the forties male graduate had no choice; he was slated for military duty. I am thankful that they have other choices.

At the end of the last article I had arrived in the northern Japanese city of Yamagata and we were billeted in Japanese schoolhouses.

I was troubled about occupying another country when I discovered what my assignment was after basic training. After I learned that we were displacing school children I was troubled all the more. It did not take me long to learn that the people could not have been more gracious under the circumstances.

It had to be hard for them initially and there was one instance I witnessed that was hard for both sides to accept. Six months after arriving in Yamagata a new camp was built for the troops out in the countryside and was named Camp Younghans after a hero of the war. A truck ferried us to a nearby railhead for recreation in the city whenever we were off duty. I was unfortunate to be a passenger on one of the trucks that struck a small four or five year old child and she was killed.

The truck was barely moving and the child who was part of a group of other children suddenly turned and ran directly into the side of the rear tire on the truck. A jeep with two military policemen was following closely behind the truck. They took the child and her mother quickly back to the camp hospital. I was called as a witness the following day to give my account of the incident and learned she had died.

We had training in the field usually one day a week. Many times we had to set up in farmer’s crop fields. Army personnel were on hand even before we left to assess damages and pay the owners for their losses. Artillery practice was limited to the extreme tops of the mountains. On the days they were carried out a range guard and a Japanese policeman were stationed at the base where trails or logging roads climbed to the summits. I happened to be the range guard accompanying the policeman on one of those days. A pack seventy-five howitzer battery miscalculated and several shells landed in a small enclave of houses causing considerable damage. Fortunately none of the inhabitants were injured.

There were many instances where we shared guard duty with Japanese policemen. Many were veterans of the war and captured under circumstances that prevented them from committing suicide. Like all of the Japanese I met they could speak far better English than we could Japanese. I had two little school girls walk up to me while I was on guard and show me Dick and Jane books. As I read aloud they wrote in Japanese in their notebooks.

I sent home for my shotgun to hunt both pheasants and varying hares. It did not arrive in time for the opening of season. I had become friends with a Japanese sportsman who owned a sporting goods store. It was against the law for citizens to have firearms but he trusted me enough to loan me an old Belgian single shot sixteen gauge shotgun.

One did not have to be among the people long before you got the distinct impression that the people welcomed our presence. This was brought home to me very graphically while on leave in Tokyo. One morning I saw General MacArthur’s car, escorted by MP’s as it passed by on his way to work. I stood dumbfounded as hundreds of people faced the street and bowed in respect. That coupled with the rapport that I felt in everyday association with the public as a whole convinced me that our presence truly had improved their lives. Today as I see and hear media accounts of what the nation has become makes me proud to say I in some small way helped.

Much of what I have written about above was brought home to me while the news of the recent tsunami was being covered. Sendai was the city that seemed to be in the epicenter of the damage. Our base in Yamagata was located about thirty odd miles west and we made some of our training parachute jumps on its airfield. We would take the train back to our base after the exercise was completed.

Although military service was thrust upon me and I was given little choice, I in no way have ever been sorry that it happened. In retrospect it broadened my horizons in a way I never could have on my own. It also made me realize how lucky I and my family are to be Americans. I was proud to be able in some small way to pay the country for the privilege it is to be one of its citizens.