Hamfist Over the Trail (18 page)

“So let me get this straight, Ham. You're a fatalist, right? When your number's up, your number's up, right?”

I nodded. “No question. I've seen guys who were desperate to stay alive getting killed, and guys who didn't give a shit, sorry, didn't care, not getting a scratch.”

“And you told me about your friends Dick and what's-his-name both getting killed on the same day right after they saw you.”

I nodded, “Dave, his name was Dave. And there was Cliff and Jim.”

“Ham, you seem like an intelligent guy. So tell me, was Dick's number up? Was Dave's number up? Was Cliff’s number up? Was Jim’s number up? Because if their numbers were up, it couldn't have been seeing you that caused them to get killed. Right?”

“Oh, my God! You're right!”

I felt like I had been in a dark room and someone had just turned on a light.

41

July 24, 1969

It was almost six o'clock when we arrived back at the apartment. Tom and Miyako were sitting at the kitchen table, having breakfast.

“I guess you kids had a good time,” Tom remarked. “And at least Sam's not carrying a Gideon bible.”

We all laughed. Not nervous laughter, real laughter. It was adorable the way both Miyako and Sam lifted their hands to cover their mouths when they laughed.

“I'm appointing Sam to be your official tour guide for the next couple of days. Is that okay with you, Ham?” Tom asked.

“Sure,” I responded. I didn't want to appear too eager, but I think my voice gave it away.

“I don't know about you,” Sam said, “but I'm going to take a nap. Let's plan on going out about two o'clock.”

I went to my room and got into bed. All I could think about was the last twelve hours. And, before I knew it, I was asleep.

Then Sam was knocking on my door.

“C'mon, sleepy head. Tokyo awaits! No suit today, wear some casual civvies.”

I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went to the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. Another cup was waiting for me.

“My guess is you drink your coffee black. Correct?” she asked.

“You guessed right.”

I couldn't get over how great she looked. Any girl can look good when she gets all dolled up to go out at night. But to look
that
good first thing in the morning – our morning, anyway – was really impressive.

“Did you bring your camera with you?” she asked.

“I sure did.”

“Good. Bring it along. And don't forget your military ID.”

We went outside and walked down the street toward Tokyo Tower.

“Let's go up the tower first, while the weather is still nice,” she suggested.

“You're the tour guide.”

We walked the mile or so to Tokyo Tower, and took the elevator to the top. It was, surprisingly, a very clear day. Sam pointed out the various landmarks. I could see Tokyo Bay off in the distance, and, far away, Mount Fuji in the other direction.

After spending about an hour in the Tower, we left and walked to a subway station.

“The quickest way to get around Tokyo,” she said, “is by train. Follow me.”

We walked up to a machine with a coin slot, Japanese writing and about a dozen buttons. Sam pointed to the map on the wall, indicated which station we were currently in, and inserted a few coins. She pressed one of the buttons, and two small cardboard tickets were spit out into the small cup at the bottom of the machine.

I followed her as we went through a entry gate, where an attendant punched a hole in the ticket, and then we walked onto a platform.

“You can set your watch by the trains,” she said. An electronic sign indicated that a train would be along in one minute. Then forty-five seconds. Then thirty seconds. The train arrived exactly on schedule.

We got on the train. It was packed, and there was an attendant on the platform pushing against the few people who still had body parts in the way of the doors. The doors closed, and we were on our way.

Sam pointed out the map just above the windows of the train, showing the route and the stations. Some of the names were in English and Japanese, some only in Japanese.

We got off the train at the Ginza station and surrendered our tickets to an attendant as we exited to the street. Other than everyone looking Asian, we could have been in New York. Actually, we could have been in Greenwich Village. Or, for that matter, Haight Ashbury. There were a lot of young people with spiked hair, green hair, purple hair, ear rings, nose rings. The same kind of weirdoes I'd seen in San Francisco.

After about an hour, we got back onto the train.

“You brought your ID, right?” Sam asked.

“Sure. I always have it. Why?”

“When I was a kid, I hung around a lot of military brats, and they took me to the Sanno a lot. It's a military officer's club in Akasaka. I haven't been there in years, but I think we'll both like it.”

We got off the train at the Akasaka Mitsuke station and walked about a block to the Sanno Military Facility. It was an old, elegant building, and the receptionist asked to see my ID before we could enter.

Once inside, I could see why Sam had liked the place so much. The Sanno was a first class hotel, and had all the accoutrements of a great establishment. Several restaurants, gift shops, a BX, barber shop, the works. And they accepted dollars, not yen.

“It's my turn to treat. Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Actually, I really am. Is it okay if we go to that restaurant?” she asked, pointing to the Italian restaurant.

“Sure.”

“This is famous as one of the best Italian restaurants in all of Tokyo. And that's really saying something.”

She was right. After eating at military chow halls for seven months, I had started to believe that Italian food was the spaghetti or lasagna that passed for authentic fare. But here was real risotto and cannelloni. Sam and I split each entree in half, to allow us to enjoy both dishes. Then we finished off with the most delicious tiramisu I've ever had. It was more than just a meal. It was a trip to Italy.

After dinner, we wandered around the hotel and ended up at the gift shop. Sam lingered at a display, and then picked up a small, round doll. It was unique. It was a funny, fat shape, and it had no eyes.

“This is a
daruma
,” she said. “Watch this.”

She tipped the doll over, and it rolled back upright, because the bottom of the doll was weighted. .

“The saying goes, seven times down, eight times up. Daddy used to call me Daruma when I was a kid.”

“Why was that?”

“Right after we came back to Japan, I had an accident. For a long time, I couldn't walk. I had a lot of setbacks, but eventually, I was able to walk, and then run. As I said, I ended up running track by the time I was in high school.”

“That's really impressive.”

“I had a lot of faith, a lot of support, and a lot of luck. I prayed a lot. And I didn't give up.”

“I noticed the doll doesn't have any eyes. Why is that?” I asked.

“When you receive a
daruma
, you paint an eye on it when you set a goal. When you reach your goal, you paint the other eye on it. When I was a little girl, right after my accident, I received my
daruma
, and I painted one eye on it to represent walking again. A few years later I painted the other eye. I'll show you when we get back to the apartment. I still keep that
daruma
.”

After wandering around the Sanno for about a half hour, we left and went back to Akasaka Mitsuke station.

“Where are we headed now?” I asked.

“Shibuya station. There's something there I want you to see.”

Sam was right about trains being the best way to get around Tokyo. While we were at ground level, I had noticed that the bumper-to-bumper traffic had looked like a parking lot. But the trains had no gridlock. They were fast, efficient, and on time.

When we arrived at Shibuya, there was a small crowd of people standing quietly near the entrance of Shibuya station. They were all standing, respectfully, with their hands folded in front of them, in front of a statue of a dog.

“That's Hachiko,” Sam explained. “We can actually see the statue better from that coffee shop,” she said, pointing to a second-floor coffee shop across the street.

We went to the coffee shop and sat at a small table right up against the front window. From that vantage point, I could see over the crowd that had encircled the statue, and I could clearly see a bronze statue of a dog in the “sit” position.

“Hachiko was an Akita, a dog native to Japan. The Akita is known for its fierce loyalty. There have actually been cases where Akita have protected their owners from bear attacks in the northern island of Hokkaido.”

“Hachiko belonged to a university professor. She accompanied him to the train station every day when he went to work, and was always waiting for him when he arrived back at the station at the end of the day. One day, the professor had a heart attack and died while he was at work.”

“Hachiko went to the station that day, but he wasn't on the usual train. Hachiko went back to that station every day, waiting all day for her master. She never missed a day. After a few years, she died, always waiting at the station for her master.”

“The reason there's a statue for Hachiko is because she represents the virtue that is most important to the Japanese, and to me – loyalty.”

I was really moved by the story. As I looked back toward the statue, I could see some of the people wiping their eyes. Obviously, Hachiko represented something very important to them.

“I had a boyfriend, named Dan, in college, after I missed my chance to meet you,” Sam said, with a smile.

Then she looked more serious. “He went to Harvard Law also, and we lived together the first year of law school. But there was something about him that really troubled me. For a long time I couldn't put my finger on it, until I thought about Hachiko.”

“Ham, Dan didn't have loyalty. His draft number came up, his country needed him, and he didn't answer the call. He ended up running away to Canada. They don't draft women, so I can't really know what goes on inside a guy's head when he gets drafted, but I think I know what I would have done if I did get drafted.”

“The United States has given us such an incredible gift as citizens. I think a lot of people don't give it much thought. But I think about it every day. In law school I studied the Constitution, and I studied a lot of history. It was Thomas Jefferson who said 'The tree of liberty must be watered from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.' When Dan was talking about dodging the draft, I lost all respect for him.”

“People like you, the people who didn't run away, show the greatest degree of loyalty to our country that's possible. Every GI signs a blank check, payable to the United States, drawn in an amount up to and including his life. I respect that immensely.”

“And, more than that,” she continued, “I want to be part of it. Don't tell Daddy, but I signed up to join the Air Force.”

I didn't know what to say. I'd been listening in rapt attention, and now I was speechless.

“I'm scheduled to start Officer Training School in early October, and by Christmas I'll be an Air Force officer,” she continued. “I already have my follow-on assignment to the Judge Advocate General Office at Fifth Air Force Headquarters, at Yokota Air Base. And, because I'll be a JAG, I'll be starting out as a Captain.”

“You're going to outrank me,” I quipped. “Stand up and let me salute you.”

She stood up, and I walked around the table to be face-to-face with her. But I didn't salute her. I gave her a deep hug, and I didn't want to let go.

42

July 28, 1969

The five days of R&R had gone by way too fast, and I didn't want it to end. Sam had shown me around more of Tokyo than I could have imagined, and Tom and Miyako had treated me like family. I found it hard to believe how close I felt to Sam after such a short time. And I felt close enough to discuss my feelings with her.

“Let's not rush things, Ham. We've both made some mistakes in the past. I want to do it right this time.”

She was right, of course. I'd heard the term “rebound”, and it was possible, though not likely, that's all it was. But I didn't think so.

Sam had my address, and I had her phone number. We would just have to wait and see where our relationship went. And I was really anxious to see if it would be possible to place a MARS call from DaNang to Tokyo.

It was time, too soon, to return to Vietnam. These last five days had been exactly what I needed to get my head on straight.

Tom, Miyako and Sam drove me to Yokota Air Base for my return flight. The limo had three rows of seats. The driver was up front, and Tom and Miyako were in the second bench seat. Sam and I sat alone in the back seat, holding hands. She was leaning her head on my shoulder.

When we arrived at the main gate I got out of the limo and went up to the guard. Even though I was in uniform, I still had to show my military identification, and I got a visitor pass that allowed our vehicle to enter the base. I was really grateful Miyako had sent my uniform off to be cleaned and pressed, because I really wanted to look sharp as I escorted Tom, Miyako and Sam around the base. We took a circuitous route to the Passenger Terminal.