Palaces and Castles

By Hoot Bagilli

While this is a novel--a work of fiction--it is also a glimpse into part of the world of the intelligence operations carried out by the United States of America. It is not the stuff of James Bond or Jack Ryan. It is the stuff of real people that work their jobs, often with long hours, sometimes with their lives at risk, almost always without any public recognition. It is usually a satisfying job, but one still rife with bureaucracy and the normal government politics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886448405

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Introduction

Palaces

Part One: In the Beginning

1: Just Sign Here, Son

2: The ASA Palace

3: A Long-g-g-g Flight

4: Delays

5: A Flight Out of the Past

6: The Secure Castle

7: Working in the Coal Mine

8: Downtown!

9: The Country Castles

10: GI Blues

11: No More Farm Life

12: The Canvas Castles

13: Are You Lost?

14: We Don't Exist

15: Better Run Through the Jungle

16: Flying South

17: Soldier Boy

18: Any Luck?

19: Could This Be Home?

20: A Fishy Castle

21: Down by the Riverside (And Other Tunes)

22: Hoochie Coochie

23: Gimme Shelter

24: Stormy Weather

25: Just a Walk in the Park

Part Two: Getting Back to It

26: The Puzzle Palace

27: School Days

28: School Is Out

29: The Big Dog

Part Three: Too Old for This

30: The Perfume Palace

31: Night Shift

32: Stay in Touch

33: 'Tis but a Flesh Wound

34: Sightseeing

35: What's the Difference?

36: Things That Go Boom

37: Is It Sensor or Censor?

38: He Said, She Said

39: Set 'Em Up, Jake

40: Coordinate?

41: Stormy Weather

42: Messages from Home

43: Wedding Crashers

44: Wedding Gifts

45: Care for Lunch?

46: MIAs

47: Do We Know?

48: Command Performance

49: Come Fly with Me

50: Things That Go Bump in the Night

51: There's a New Kid in Town

52: The Last Dance

53: Homeward Bound

54: We Gotta Get Outa This Place

About the Author

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Palaces and Castles

Hoot Bagilli

ISBN 979-8-88644-839-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88644-840-5 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Hoot Bagilli

All rights reserved

First Edition

This is a work of fiction. Any semblance between original characters and real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author in no way represents the companies, corporations, agencies or brands mentioned in this book. The likeness of historical/famous figures have been used fictitiously; the author does not speak for or represent these people. All opinions expressed in this book are the author’s or fictional.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

In memory of Moonbaby. She always pushed me to write this story.

Introduction

While this is a novel—a work of fiction—it is also a glimpse into part of the world of the intelligence operations carried out by the United States of America. It is not the stuff of James Bond or Jack Ryan. It is the stuff of real people that work their jobs, often with long hours, sometimes with their lives at risk, almost always without any public recognition. It is usually a satisfying job, but one still rife with bureaucracy and the normal government politics.

There are two things that readers should keep in mind. The first is that there are many tools, mission objectives, and operations Jake was familiar with that are still highly classified. Accordingly, no mention of those are included in this story. The second is that many will feel that the conversational exchanges—especially those with and between military personnel—are missing the expletives and language usually associated with such engagements. This was done intentionally as such language adds nothing to the story or to real life, no matter how widely it has become acceptable.

As you will quickly see, the story covers two entirely different timelines that are forever linked. While it is, after all, a novel, it is also full of events, tasks, and outcomes that are all too real. Now, please meet Jacob Johnson.

Palaces

Jacob Johnson was his name. He preferred to be called Jake. He knew that his name meant one who grasps or seizes and, according to many, may God protect. He was happy with it, thinking that both really applied to him. He also knew that his mom had chosen the name from the Bible. She had often read the story about Jacob to him as a child, smiling and telling him he was her little Jacob.

What he didn't like was when his mom had started calling him JJ. He did not like it at all. His name was Jacob. Everyone else called him that or they called him Jake. The trouble started when some of his friends heard his mom call him JJ. They started doing it as a way of teasing him. His mistake was allowing his face and actions to show that he didn't like it. That, of course, just made them do it all the more.

Time went on, and as Jake grew, the teasing stopped. Both he and his friends had gotten beyond that. It didn't bother him anymore, but he still wondered about it. Jake wondered about a lot of things.

By the time he had reached his late teens, Jake had grown into what most girls thought was a handsome young man, although Jake had never thought of himself as handsome. He was just shy of 5'10"', with looks that some thought called up traces of James Dean. Having somewhat of a reputation for being a rebel probably added to that comparison. Jake's hair was jet-black, he was in good physical shape, and he tanned easily. For Jake, getting dates was never an issue, although finding the right girl seemed to be. Jake also wondered about that.

Jake's wonderings had also led to a theory. His theory was that just about everything involved palaces. Some were real palaces, like the rich had. Some were run-down palaces that had fallen into disrepair. Some were simple homes that people considered their palaces or their castles. Some were places where people worked or played, forming palaces or castles in their minds. Still others were sand castles and play houses. And of course, there were mansions in heaven, prepared just for them by the Lord and longed for by most, if not all, believers.

Years later, Jake was about to go to work in one of the real ones.

Part One

In the Beginning

1

Just Sign Here, Son

It is May of 1963, and Jake is taking the aptitude tests at the Fort Holabird Army base outside of Baltimore. He is doing his best to answer questions correctly that sound like they would lead to doing something more interesting than being in the infantry. He is, of course, trying his best to answer questions wrong that look like they would lead to the infantry, being a cook, a medic or some other unappealing job. At last, he is done. Now he just has to wait and see how he did.

Two men are walking up to Jake, and he has no idea who these two guys are, but they sure seem anxious to talk with him. One is in uniform and the other is in civilian clothes. They introduce themselves and then ask if Jake would mind going to an office as they would like to talk with him in private. This is either more bad news or it is a sales pitch.

Jake had always wanted to fly. Most of his life. The bad news he had already received from both the Air Force and the Navy was that he would not be eligible for flight training. They were insisting on at least some college and twenty-twenty vision. He had neither one and had no desire to be a Marine, which translated into the infantry when all was said and done. A proud infantryman, but still an infantryman. That was how he ended up at the Army recruiter. The military was going to be Jake's ticket out of town and away from home, even if it ended up being the Army.

Following the two down a hall, they were soon all stopped by an MP (Military Police) that had been sitting at a desk until they approached. The other two showed him their ID badges and were waved through. This was either going to get interesting or they were escorting him the back way out of the building.

Turns out it was an office after all. Jake was shown a chair while the other two moved behind the table in the room and sat down. They asked Jake if he had ever heard of the Army Security Agency—the ASA. Jake said he had not. They then went on to explain that the ASA was a highly selective unit in the Army and they only selected those who scored extremely high on the aptitude tests and were at least high school graduates. All the work was highly classified, and they could not elaborate on it but said that the ASA worked for the National Security Agency (NSA), which Jake had heard of.

They then went on to say that they were very interested in having Jake join the ASA. He would have his choice of advanced training once his basic training was out of the way and that training could take up to an additional year. For that reason and because of what the Army would be investing in him, the term of enlistment would be four years instead of the usual three. They were going on and on and alluding to all sorts of secret-agent stuff, but Jake had already tuned them out. He was weighing the offer and wondering what difference an extra year would make and if it was really worth the training and the type of work they were promising. He also was wondering why neither the Air Force nor the Navy recruiters had discussed any such training or opportunities and thinking that maybe only the Army was involved in this type of work.

Jake asked for some more information about the ASA and actually found out quite a bit—at least quite a bit that was not classified. For starters.

The ASA was started after World War II in 1945. (It would eventually be disbanded in 1976, and all activities would be moved to Army intelligence.)

The primary mission of the Agency was SIGINT (signals intelligence) While that was the main thrust, most units included personnel and groups for HUMINT (human intelligence), CI (counter intelligence), ELINT (electronic intelligence—primarily from rocket launches and satellites), and electronic countermeasures (jammers, direction finding, movement sensors, etc.)

They ran under the umbrella of a headquarters at Arlington Hall Station, but operationally, they worked for the NSA.

Duty assignments and training included radio communications (voice intercept, Morse—manual and machine—intercept, teletype intercept, direction finding), computer systems operations, cryptanalysis, radar and telemetry, linguists, and clandestine combat operations.

There were various locations all over the world, many of which were large enough to be field stations where all, or almost all, of the duty assignments where stationed and then there were the smaller, unique assignments.

As the conversation went on, both of these guys starting pushing Jake to say yes. They promised he would get whichever training path he chose once his clearance came through—which would take awhile since it would be top secret and above. They then asked Jake if there was anything in his or his family's background that would prevent him from getting such a clearance. He answered no.

They also promised that he would have his choice of duty assignments once the training was over. He would get to pick from a list of countries (three choices) and they would give him the first one open, starting at number 1 and working down to number 3.

Jake was young, but he wasn't stupid. He asked if all this would be in writing. They smiled and said of course—if you agree to the extra year of enlistment.

Jake thought for another minute and decided that the extra year really wouldn't matter since his goal was to get away from home, anyway. He told them that it sounded like the kind of opportunity he was looking for and asked what the next step was.

The grins on their faces should have been a clue, but Jake had visions of secret agents and faraway lands, so he didn't pick up on that.

They left the office and went back to the main processing area. Jake had a seat there while the two salesmen went to get some paperwork. They were back fairly quickly and explained that all Jake had to do was sign a letter of intent stating what had been agreed to and give them a date when he would be ready to head off to basic training. Jake looked the letter over and signed it. He then told them that he would be ready to go in just over three weeks. They were quite happy with that answer and shook hands on it.

They were getting ready to take Jake back to his recruiter for the ride home, but they first needed to get a handful of documents for Jake to take home and fill out. They said these were needed to start the clearance process.

At this point, Jake's recruiter came walking up and had an officer with him that looked very stern and was wearing a chest full of ribbons. The recruiter introduced the officer who said that he had been looking all over for him and that he wanted to talk to him about becoming an officer. The other two guys just smiled and said they would leave us to it.

Jake followed the recruiter and the major or colonel or whatever he was to some seats. The officer then started about what a great job Jake had done on the aptitude tests and that he should seriously consider going to officer candidate school, after which he would be commissioned as a Second Lieutenant and would serve as an officer rather than as an enlisted man. He was going on and on about the great career opportunities that would open up and how much better it was to be an officer than an enlisted man. The recruiter—who was an enlisted man, a sergeant—was starting to squirm some and, from the look on his face, did not seem to care much for what the officer was saying.

At this point, Jake told the officer he would consider it, but that he had already committed to joining the ASA. The officer didn't miss a beat as he told Jake that was a great choice, but that he could still go to OCS and be in the ASA. Jake promised to give it some thought and they left it at that.

On the ride back to Jake's, the recruiter kept telling him what a great choice he had made and he was sure Jake would do well. Surprisingly, he also told Jake to seriously consider what the officer said about OCS. He admitted that the officers definitely had it better than the enlisted men. Jake promised to give it some thought, but his main thoughts were about if he had made a serious mistake. Time would tell.

Jake now had three weeks to get his life at home together, if that was possible. He also had to have a discussion with the girl he had been dating since the beginning of April. He really liked her and did not relish the idea of leaving her, but he knew that he would and that whatever came next would be out of his control for the most part.

Jake worried about his brothers too, but he knew that they would most likely be okay and that, even if he were staying, they would be pretty much on their own because one way or the other, he was not going to stay at home. The Army just made that process simpler. He would be farther away than if he stayed and lived somewhere else, but he would still not be there for them.

Jake knew that he was now committed. He was going to miss a lot of people, but he felt that he had to go, to get out, to be on his own. Unfortunately for Jake, he had no idea how much freedom he was about to give up. Basic training would make sure he found out—the hard way.

Basic Training—Fort Dix, NJ

The Quad—Fort Devens, MA

2

The ASA Palace

The Birdcage. That is what everyone called it. At least everyone that Jake knew who had gone to school there. To Jake, it was the ASA's palace.

It got its nickname because the entire building was enclosed in chain link fence. Not like you would surround a yard or a parking lot with. The entire building, literally, was enclosed in fencing. From the ground to the roof. Pretty impressive considering it was a fairly large building that had four or five floors. It has been too long, and Jake simply could not recall how many floors there were in total. It was part of a quadrangle that was officially known as the Army Security Agency Training Center and School.

This was at Fort Devens, Massachusetts, in the northwest part of the state. It was almost Labor Day when Jake got there, and the weather was still nice. Basic training was finally over, and Jake was very glad that it was. He was sure that there were plenty of sadistic people out there, but he had not planned on at least three of them being in control of his every moment. That behind him, Jake liked what he saw so far.

The barracks were a far cry from the two-story wooden structures Jake had been in during basic and actually looked fairly new. They housed approximately half of the men sent there for their advanced training. The other half were down the road a ways and were still using the old wooden structures.

Like most Army forts, this one started as a camp. Camps were used by the Army until someone decided that the location and facilities should be permanent, or as permanent as things get in the DoD world. Camp Devens was named after a Civil War general—Charles Devens—and was opened in 1917 as a result of World War I. In 1931, it was officially declared a fort and renamed accordingly.

By the time World War II came around, the fort was being expanded. More than 1,200 additional wooden structures were built for housing and training of the troops needed for the war effort. Interestingly, part of the fort was also used to house prisoners of war (POWs) from Germany and Italy. This started in 1944 and continued until 1946. The small detail about the war being over in 1945 had apparently been ignored by those responsible for repatriating the POWs.

In 1951, the ASA Training Center and School was established there. It was officially known as that until the ASA was done away with and made a part of military intelligence in 1976. The school continued under the military intelligence organization until 1996. At that time, it was relocated to Fort Huachuca, Arizona, where it continues to operate today.

Sadly, for those stationed or working there (and for the local economy), Fort Devens was made a part of the base closure and realignment process of the government. This also took place in 1996. What was left of the fort, after the land was divided up between the vultures, became an Army Reserve installation.

Entrance to the Birdcage was strictly controlled, and MPs were on duty at all times to make sure no one without a badge got in. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective. Jake, like all new arrivals, had not received his final clearance yet. Without the clearance, there would be no badge and with no badge, there would be no Birdcage. Not a big deal (yet). It was normal, and the Army had a way of dealing with it.

Each morning there was a company formation in the street by the barracks. Once formed up, the entire formation marched down the street to the school. This was something like three quarters of a mile or so one way, but was not a big deal as everyone in the formation had just come from basic training and were in good shape.

Once at the school, the formation was dismissed, and everyone went off to their assigned classes. Those without a clearance went to one of the other buildings in the quad and were given instruction in things like touch typing, Army protocol, and document processing. These skills were also intended to prepare those who would have their clearance denied, for a position somewhere as a clerk. There were several conversations about what impact not getting a clearance may or may not have on that extra year of enlistment they were all subject to, but no one really knew.

After several weeks of this training, Jake was relieved when he got word his final clearance had come through. He was now scheduled to start his technical training in one week and was looking forward to actually learning what he was supposed to be doing while in the Army.

As the seasons changed and winter rolled in, the daily march to the Birdcage started to take on new, and mostly unwanted, characteristics. Most the march to the school was downhill while, obviously, it was uphill on the return to the barracks. It wasn't long before the full force of winter in western Massachusetts was felt and the road used for the marching would quite often be covered in either snow or ice—sometimes both. Probably the best way to describe some of the marches would be to visualize a Keystone Cops movie that had quite a few people slipping, sliding, and falling as they tried to maintain a formation. Round step was almost always called and everyone did what was needed to stay upright.

Things were progressing, and there was a familiarity to the daily routine. You almost never got assigned to KP and the roster for cleaning the barracks made sure everyone got a turn with enough time in between to make it very tolerable. The routine was shattered one Friday as news that President Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas. For obvious reasons, Massachusetts was not a great place to be when this news came in. Just about everyone was glued to the TVs watching the news all weekend as Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald on live television. By Monday, life and training went on.

Months rolled by and the training was getting near the end of the cycle for Jake. As a result, he had to submit his assignment request, which he did with Japan listed as his number one choice. Not long afterward, Jake was pleased to find out his choice had been approved. He was going to go to the Twelfth USASA Field Station in Japan.

Jake was able to get a leave and several of the guys rode together in a Volkswagen back to Maryland and beyond. They dropped Jake off at the top of the hill for his street and said they would see him in five days. He waved and pulled his coat around him even more and walked down the street to his old house. It was dark, but not too late, so Jake just rang the doorbell. He didn't have a key, so if no one answered, he would be in trouble (again), but this time it would be way too cold and nasty to sit and wait for someone to show up.

His brother pulled the door open and was all happy to see him. Jake was glad to see him as well. He went in and his mother was sitting on the sofa watching TV with his youngest brother. Everyone exchanged hugs and greetings and then Jake asked where his father was. His mother said that he wasn't home yet. Jake let it go.

They talked about what was going on around there, how school was, and other things, but no one talked about what Jake could see and feel. Things were obviously not going well with his parents. Again, Jake let it go.

The time went by quickly. Jake had a chance to see a couple of his old running mates several times and they had gone to a party where Jake didn't know anybody except his two friends. It was okay, but Jake just wasn't in the mood. He knew he had to leave in a day and a half and wasn't sure when he would be back. He also regretted that he had not seen his old girlfriend. She had moved on and was dating other guys, so Jake had not even bothered to call her. He wanted to but just didn't do it.

He finally convinced his friends to take him home and luck being what it was, they ran out of gas about three or four miles from home. Now they were walking and it was snowing. It was very quiet with the snow and all, and Jake was actually enjoying the walk. His friends kept moaning and groaning, but Jake was at peace. He wasn't happy, but he was at peace.

The last day passed all too quickly and then Jake was telling everyone goodbye, probably for at least the next two years. He checked his watch, hugged everyone again, and walked back up to the top of the hill where his street met the one that brought you into the subdivision. He stood there smoking a cigarette and waiting. After about fifteen minutes, the Volkswagen he recognized pulled up, and he waved to the guys, and then they all scrunched up as Jake got in. It was going to be a long, crowded ride back to Fort Devens, but everyone seemed to be in good spirits, so maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

3

A Long-g-g-g Flight

Jake felt like crap. He was sure it was from all the shots he had been given in the last two days which the Army required prior to going overseas. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep. That, of course, was not going to happen.

He picked up his duffel bag, looked around his bunk and locker one last time, and walked down the hall to the orderly room where he signed out for the last time. He was on his way. Feeling bad or not, he had to get to the train and on to the Boston airport.

He made his flight on time and was about to doze off when they announced to prepare for landing. It was, after all, a short flight from Boston to New York. As the plane descended lower and lower, Jake could see a lot of what had been constructed for the World's Fair as they passed it headed into Idlewild for a landing. (The airport had not yet been renamed in honor of President Kennedy.)

Once there, Jake found the International Counter for TWA (Trans World Airlines) and checked in. He thought about grabbing something to eat, but wasn't sure if his stomach would handle it, so he passed. His flight was supposed to go direct to Anchorage, Alaska, stop for refueling and a crew change, and continue on to Tokyo. Jake remembered ordering a drink from the stewardess once they were airborne, but didn't remember ever getting it. He fell asleep and did not wake up again until they were landing in Anchorage.

When the plane came to a stop at the terminal, they announced that the stop would take about two hours and that passengers were free to go into the terminal as long as they were back on board at least fifteen minutes before the scheduled departure. Jake followed everyone else off the plane and across the ramp area to the terminal.

Jake found a men's room and used the facilities. Feeling a little better after the sleep, he knew he had to get some food and set off to find the restaurant/snack bar. He also found sticker shock. As a PFC (Private First Class) his E-3 pay was a whopping $99.37 per month before taxes, which was a big increase from the $78 he made when he enlisted. It looked as if he was going to blow over 15 percent of that on one stupid hamburger, an order of fries, and a Coke. Ignoring the prices on the menu, he ordered, ate, and went back to the gate area.

People were milling around and he noticed that he was apparently the only one in uniform. He thought that was a bit strange, but put it out of his mind in sync with putting out his cigarette and heading for the door to get back on the plane.

The pilot came on the intercom and welcomed everyone and said that we would be following the Great Circle Route to Japan and that the weather looked good. We were to sit back and relax and expect a meal once we reached cruising altitude. Figures, Jake thought.

Being in a row near the back of the plane, Jake had the three seats to himself and spread out a little as the plane leveled off. Jake still felt half sick and thought that he probably still had a fever. He grabbed his pillow and propped his head on it and the bulkhead to wait for the meal. When the stewardess shook him to wake him up again, he was surprised when she told him to bring his seat back up as they were on the approach into Tokyo. She just laughed when Jake asked if she was kidding. She said she knew he was obviously exhausted and had not bothered to wake him for meal services. (Yes. There had been two.) Jake had no idea how long he had slept, but he was, at last, starting to feel halfway decent.

Leaving the plane and entering the terminal, Jake did not have a clue what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to go. A very polite man was attempting to herd Jake along a line that must have been for customs since most of the people Jake saw there were from the plane. Wrong again. The man, who was trying his best to speak to Jake in English, did not look as if he was happy. Finally, he gently took hold of Jake's arm and pulled him out of the line and led him to the baggage claim area where Jake retrieved his duffel bag. The man then herded Jake to another desk area, jabbering something the entire time. The man then kept bowing and backing up the entire time as he kept saying something Jake did not understand.

At this point, Jake didn't know whether to stay right where he was or start wandering around the terminal looking for someone who could help him. His dilemma was solved when a very nice young woman came through a door on the other side of the desk and said Hello in a cute accent. Jake said Hi. She bowed slightly, said Hi back, and informed him that he did not need to go through customs and how could she help him. At least Jake hoped that was what she was talking about as a good bit of it was hard to understand.

Jake decided that maybe the best thing he could do was show her his orders. She immediately started waving her hand back and forth and kept saying No, no as she started to come around the desk. She then motioned for Jake to follow her as she started to walk away. She would take a few steps, pause and look back to see if Jake were there, smile some more and continue walking.

As they walked along, Jake was still trying to figure out the time difference and what time it was. Obviously, it was daytime and the sun was shining brightly through the windows of the airport, but according to the clocks in the airport, it was only a couple of hours later than what Jake's watch showed. He knew that couldn't be right, but right now he wasn't even sure if it the same day or not.

Still trying to figure out the time, Jake almost walked right into the nice young woman that had led him to yet another counter area. He stopped in time and smiled at her. She pointed to the sign behind the counter and smiled back at him as she waved and said Goodbye. The sign read, USO—Servicemen Welcome. That was promising, but there wasn't anyone there.

Jake dropped his duffel bag and decided to sit on it and have a cigarette while he waited for someone to show up. A few people passed by and gave him strange looks, but no one said anything. Looking around, Jake finally noticed a large ashtray standing near the wall to his right, which he used to put out the now finished cigarette. As he got back to his duffel, a man walked up to the counter and said to Jake, Hello. May I help you? in perfect English. As it turned out, it should have been perfect as the man was a Japanese American from California, working for the USO.

Jake showed him his orders and waited for a response. The man ignored Jake and started dialing the phone on the counter top. He then said a few things into the phone about Jake and his orders for the Twelfth USASA Field Station. After listening for a few more moments, the man thanked someone on the other end of the line and hung up. He then turned back to Jake and explained that Jake would have to go over to Kishine (Ka-sheen-ay) Barracks for processing and further transportation.

Further transportation to where? to which the man replied, Why, to the Twelfth USASA Field Station, of course.

Now more confused than ever, Jake asked how he was supposed to get to this Kishine Barracks. This time the man explained that there would be an Army bus coming by in about twenty minutes. It would stop at the door just to their left and Jake should wait there for the bus and ask the driver to drop him at Kishine Barracks. Once there, he should go to the orderly room and check in. Jake thanked the man for his help, retrieved his duffel bag from the floor and headed for the door the USO man had pointed to. As he got to the door, he paused to let some other people through and looked back toward the USO counter. The guy from the USO was already gone.

Weird, thought Jake.

As advertised, an Army bus pulled up to the door and it was actually a few minutes early. Jake was trying to figure out why the door was on the wrong side when it dawned on him that they drove on the wrong side of the road here. That would take some getting used to. Jake hefted his duffel bag up yet again and boarded the bus.

The driver asked him where he was headed, and he replied, Kishine Barracks.

Anybody else coming?

Not that I know of.

Closing the door, the driver waited for Jake to sit down and then started to pull out into traffic, which seemed heavy. Jake commented on it and the driver simply said it was always this way.

Jake was busy looking out the windows and lost track of time. As a result, he was surprised when the driver pulled the bus through a gate with a large sign over it like an arch. The sign read Kishine Barracks. They were there, where ever there was. Jake picked up his duffel bag and headed for the door. As he was starting down the steps of the bus, the driver pointed to a building just ahead and to his right, telling Jake that the orderly room was in that building. Jake thanked him and left the bus behind as he went straight for the building the driver had pointed to.

Jake saw the sign for the orderly room and went in. He sat the duffel bag down near the wall and took the large envelope containing his records and orders out of the bag and walked up to the counter. Another PFC was sitting at the desk behind the counter typing and he asked Jake what he needed without even looking up from his typewriter. Jake said he had just arrived from the States and needed help finding his next duty station. With that, the fellow stopped typing and came over to the counter and took the orders out of the envelope and started to look them over. He looked a little confused and told Jake to wait a couple of minutes while he made some calls.

True to his word, the clerk came back to the counter and told Jake that he was going be spending the night right here. Jake asked why and the clerk explained that the Twelfth Field Station was up north—on the next island and there were no more flights scheduled to go there today. Jake thought this over for a minute and then asked when he would get a flight. The clerk said that the next flight was scheduled for tomorrow at 1100. He told Jake where the transient barracks were and that he could pick any empty bunk. He then told him where the mess hall was and said to be back here by 0900 in the morning to get a ride to the air base. He added that Jake should not miss the bus as there was only one flight per day. Jake thanked him, picked up the duffel again and started to head for the barracks when the clerk told him to hold on a minute.

Jake asked him, What now?

The clerk then told him that he needed to stop down the hall and turn in all his greenbacks for MPC. Jake didn't have a clue what that meant, so he asked. The clerk laughed and explained to Jake that you could not use American currency here. The military units issued military payment certificates (MPC) instead of greenbacks or coins. He also told Jake that if he was going to go off base, he should also convert some of his money into Japanese yen—the local currency—as you were not allowed to spend MPC anywhere except on base. Jake thanked him again for his help and started to leave again. Once more, the clerk stopped him with a Forget something? Jake looked puzzled and said he didn't think so. The clerk laughed and held up the envelope with Jake's records and orders. Jake, sheepishly, took the envelope and stuck it back into his bag. He did, however, have the good sense to find out what time it was here before he went on out into the hallway.

He saw the sign for Finance and walked down the hall to the window under the sign. A Spec 5 came over to the window as soon as he saw Jake walk up and asked what he could do for him. Jake explained that he had just got there and apparently needed to change his money.

The specialist nodded and said, Yes, that's right.

Jake then asked him about the Japanese money, and the specialist reached down and pulled out a flyer that had several different denominations of the Japanese currency pictured on it and handed to Jake. As he did so, he explained that the exchange rate was fixed and was at 360 yen to the dollar. Jake took out his wallet and pulled out all the bills he had and then fished the change he had out of his pocket and laid them on the counter. The specialist then counted all of it while Jake watched and told him it came to $47.55. Jake said that sounded right and waited for the MPC. As the specialist counted out that, Jake could not help but notice that it basically looked like Monopoly money and said so. The specialist agreed and asked him how much he wanted in yen. Jake thought for a moment and then asked the guy what he thought as he was apparently only going to be there for one night. The specialist laughed again and reminded Jake that the yen would be good anywhere in the country, not just here in Yokohama. Jake then said he thought he was in Tokyo. The specialist told Jake that it was really all one big sprawl and you couldn't tell when you went from one to the other unless you were very familiar with the area. He said that they were just south of Tokyo and getting around either city would best be left up to a cab driver unless Jake was fluent in the language. Jake laughed at that and thanked the guy for his help and decided on $15 worth of yen. The specialist took the $15 in MPC notes and counted out 5,400 yen and handed it to Jake and wished him luck on his tour.

Jake headed over to the barracks, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and wondered if his ideal pick of duty stations might be falling apart. He had assumed that being assigned to Japan would mean somewhere right around here, not on some other island.

As he entered the transient barracks, he noticed three other guys were already in there and simply nodded in their direction as he looked for a bunk. One of them told him to pick whatever bunk he wanted as it looked as if they were it—at least for now. Jake went to the nearest bunk and dropped the duffel bag and sat on the bunk. He was impressed that even though it was the typical large bay layout with double bunks lining both walls, all the bunks were made already and everything looked clean. Pushing that thought aside, he lay back and just relaxed for a while.

4

Delays

Jake must have drifted off. As he fully woke up, he noticed the lights were now on and he was alone. Getting up, he went to the latrine and used the facilities as he wondered what to do with his evening. Deciding that he was hungry and still not sure of what the real time was, he went in search of the mess hall.

Luckily, there were a couple of guys just outside the barracks door and he asked them about the mess hall. They said it was Right over there and pointed to another building next door and said he couldn't miss it as it was just inside the doors facing him. He thanked them and went to eat while thinking that the mess hall was right where the clerk in the orderly room said it would be. Duh.

As he ate, he mulled over the idea of venturing out for some sightseeing and maybe a beer or two. As he argued with himself about that, the three guys he had seen in the barracks came over and sat at his table and introduced themselves. They, too, were new to Japan and were heading to a base that was supposedly in a place called Zama. They said it was supposed to be about forty miles or so from Tokyo, but there was some screwup in transportation, so they were staying here for the night. Jake explained his travel arrangements and said he was not sure what was near where he was supposed to be going. They said they were going to venture out later and check out some of the local bars and asked him if he wanted to join them. He thought about it for about twenty seconds and said, Sure. Why not?

They asked what kind of shoulder patch that Jake was wearing was for and Jake noticed that they were not wearing any type of patch. He explained that it was the unit patch for the Army Security Agency and they immediately asked what that was. Jake tried to explain as best he could, but none of what he said made much sense, even to him. They left it at that and decided to meet up around 1900.

Jake walked back to the barracks and decided on a quick shower and shave. Once done, he put his dress greens on again as he didn't feel like digging out the few civilian clothes that he had with him. Besides, they were almost at the bottom of the duffel bag. After getting dressed, he decided to see if there was an EM club or day room anywhere near.

He found the day room without any trouble and was pleased to see the three guys from the barracks sitting in there. They had some show on the TV, but Jake didn't have a clue what it was, even with the English subtitles. They all agreed to head out now instead of waiting.

As they started out the gate, there was an older Japanese man just outside the gate with a small table setup and he had some tools laying on it as well as what looked like cheap, imitation dog tags and some flat hearts (brass?) that looked like they also went on a chain. All of them were blank. The man smiled at them as they came out and said in very good English, Would you like an engraved souvenir?

They all stopped to see what he had and Jake asked him if he engraved on anything else.

He said, Sure. Let me see, please.

Jake pulled out his lighter and the man said it would not be a problem and asked what he wanted on it. Jake then asked him how much for his initials.

The man said, Its 250 yen.

Jake then asked him if he could do the initials in both English and Japanese. The man thought for a moment and said yes, but that would be 500 yen. Jake figured that was less than a $1.50 and handed the man the lighter. The man then handed Jake a piece of paper and told him to write. For a moment, Jake was puzzled, then he realized the man wanted the initials. Jake wrote them down and gave the paper back to the man, who studied it for a few seconds and went to work on the lighter. In less than two minutes he handed the lighter back to Jake and smiled. Jake was impressed. It looked good. He had no idea what the Japanese engraving said, but trusted that the man was honest. He handed the man a 1,000-yen note, and the old man gave Jake a 500-yen note back and bowed as he thanked Jake.

Smiling, Jake and the other three walked on down the street looking for a bar. They didn't have to go far as the entire area seemed to be nothing but bars. They walked a little farther and just picked one at random.

As they entered the bar, they were greeted with loud shouts of something. None of them had a clue what had been said, but they found seats at the bar and ordered beers. Jake lit a cigarette and looked at the engraving on his lighter again before putting it back in his pocket. The beer was actually good and Jake picked the bottle up to read the label. It said, Kirin—Ichiban Beer with a lot of other things that were obviously written in Japanese. The girl behind the bar rushed over and asked if there was something wrong. They all laughed and told her they were just trying to see what kind of beer it was. She then wanted to know if it was not good. They assured her it was very good and ordered another round.

Jake then asked the other three what they were going to be doing at their new base. Two of them (Frank and Ed) said that they were mechanics and assumed that they would be working in the motor pool. The third guy (Roger) said that he had been trained as a clerk and didn't really know yet where they would have him working. They then wanted more information out of Jake as to what he was going to be doing. Jake thought it over for a minute, debating whether to tell them or not. He decided that he best keep quiet about what he was trained in and what he was going to be doing at his new base. Instead, he told them in generalities and hemming and hawing, concluding with the standard line about it was classified and they couldn't talk about it. At first, they thought he was just trying to show off, but then they realized he was sincere and changed the subject.

As they finished their beers, the other three suggested going to see what some of the other bars looked like. Jake, even though he felt like he would enjoy that, declined. He was just too tired and his body was revolting from the time difference and some residual effects of all the shots he had gotten just before leaving Devens. He wished them luck and turned to pay for his beers. When the young girl came over to see what else they needed she sat a couple of small bowls on the bar in front of them with something in them that none of the GIs could recognize. Jake picked up a piece out of one of the bowls and smelled it. He must have made a face because the girl broke out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as she did so.

Jake asked her what the stuff was and she replied that one was squid and the other was eel. Both of them looked like they had been dried, sort of like very thin jerky and were not very appealing. Jake took a bite off the piece in his hand to try it and was sorry almost immediately. His face must have said it all again as the girl started laughing. With that, Jake asked how much he owed her. She reached under the bar and pulled out what must have been their tab and said that they owed 1,200 yen. Jake thought that was a little steep for two beers, but didn't say anything. He gave her a 1,000-yen note and the 500-yen note he had gotten from the engraver. She went to the register and came right back with his change. He left a 100-yen note on the bar and was about to leave when the rest of the guys asked for their tab. The girl was then waving her hands and shaking her head no. She then explained—in broken English—that the bill Jake had paid was for all the beers. With that, Jake started laughing and decided he thought he was going to like this place if everything was as affordable as what he had bought so far. The three with him tried to give him some money, but he refused and said the drinks were on him. He wished them good luck and said he would probably see them in the barracks before they all left in the morning. They were still thanking him and trying to get him to go with them for some more drinks as he waved and headed out the door.

Jake walked back to the gate to the base and walked in as the MP on the gate just waved at him. Once in the barracks, he took off his uniform, went back to the latrine and brushed his teeth. Done with that, he dug into his duffel and pulled out some clean underwear and socks as well as his travel alarm clock, which one of the guys back at Devens had suggested. It was cheap at the PX, so he had bought it and was now glad he had. It did not appear that there would be anything like Reveille played here in the morning. With that he climbed into his bunk and wondered what the people at home were doing as he drifted off to sleep.

At 0600 Jake was aroused out what had been a very good night's sleep by the alarm going off. He felt around on the floor until his hand found the clock and shut the alarm off. Swinging out of the bunk, he grabbed the clean underwear, his ditty bag and the towel hanging on the bottom end of the bunk and headed back to the latrine to shower and shave.

As he dressed, he wondered what today's trip would be like and decided that the northern island couldn't be much different than here. It was, after all, still the same country. Smiling to himself, he noticed that his three fellow GIs were just now rousing out of their bunks and they looked like they might be in some pain. Still smiling, Jake headed for the mess hall and breakfast.

Back in the barracks, Jake rolled his dirty underwear and socks up, stuffed them down into the duffel, followed by his ditty bag and the alarm clock. He looked around to make sure he had everything and headed out to go back to the orderly room to see where he was supposed to catch his ride. On the way, his three fellow GIs were loading their bags into the back of a deuce and a half and were about to climb in as Jake yelled so long. They laughed and waved back. With that, they were on their way.

Jake went into the orderly room and saw that the same clerk was there from yesterday. The clerk looked up and said good morning and he rose from his desk and came over to where Jake stood. Before the clerk could say anything, Jake asked him what he should do with the dirty towel and the sheets off the bunk. The clerk laughed and said not to worry about that. They had houseboys that took care of things like that. Nice, thought Jake. He then told Jake that he was to catch the same bus he had been on yesterday as it would be making the morning round trip to Tachikawa Air Base. It should be stopping here by 0900. Jake thanked him for all his help and went back outside to wait on the bus. He was still impressed with how nice the weather was here at the end of January. At Devens, he would have been freezing.

The bus pulled in almost on time. It was the same driver as yesterday and Jake waved hello as he grabbed his duffel bag and got on the bus.

The driver asked him, Where to today?

And Jake said that he was headed to the Tachikawa Air Base.

Have a seat. We'll wait a few minutes to see if there are any other passengers.

Sure, Jake answered, sitting near the front of the bus this time.

A short time later, an officer came out and got on the bus. He apparently knew where the bus was going and didn't say anything to either the driver or Jake. Up yours, thought Jake and just looked out the window as they pulled back out into the local traffic.

The ride took about thirty minutes through what, at home, would have been consider heavy traffic. Here, it appeared to be normal. The bus stopped at the gate to the base and an MP (or whatever the Air Force called them) stepped up onto the bus and looked at the passengers. He nodded to the driver and got back off. The bus then drove up to what (according to the sign) was the Air Terminal.

Here you go, he said to Jake.

Jake grabbed his bag and thanked him for the ride and went on into the terminal. The captain was still on the bus, obviously headed somewhere else.

Once inside, he looked around for signs, or an information counter, neither of which he saw, so he just walked up to the first counter he came to. After a couple of minutes, an Air Force type (Jake had no idea what rank he was as there were a lot of stripes on his arms) came over and asked what he could do for Jake. Jake pulled the big envelope out of the duffel bag again and showed the man his orders.

The man then looked down at whatever was written on the clipboard he had reached for, frowned for a minute, and told Jake, Well, son, you are on time for the flight to Chitose, but you won't be making it today.

Jake thought for a moment and asked, Why not?

Weather.

What about it?

The weather is too bad for them to make that flight today. Happens fairly often in the winter.

Not knowing what to do now, Jake said, Now what?

You come back tomorrow and see if there is going to be a flight.

Still thinking, Jake asked, What do I do until then?

The man laughed out loud and told Jake that he was free to do whatever he pleased. Jake thought some more and asked him if there would be a bus back to Kishine Barracks.

Of course. It should be here again by about 1230 or so. Will stop right out front.

Jake thanked him and stuffed his envelope back in the duffel bag and went to find a seat and wait for the bus.

At about 1215, Jake picked up the duffel bag and headed outside to wait for the bus. He stood there thinking about what to do with the rest of the day ahead of him and put out his cigarette as he saw the bus pulling in. As the door opened, the driver looked at Jake and asked what happened.

No flight today. Weather. Jake climbed on the bus and sat down.

Back at Kishine, Jake went into the orderly room again. The same clerk looked a little surprised to see him and asked the same question, What happened?

Jake explained.

The clerk said, "Well, you know where everything is. Enjoy the time