Honor Thy Father by wysiwig
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Description
The troop ships had arrived from Okinawa under escort by elements of the U.S. Navy's Fifth Fleet and had anchored off the great bay of Wakayama. Now it was time for the soldiers to enter the waiting landing craft and make their run for the beach. They would be the first wave of American soldiers occupying Southern Honshu. They said the war was over. Hadn't the Japanese surrendered just ten days ago?
Still, no one trusted the Japanese and the Americans would be going in ready for a fight. The Navy gunners stood behind their .30 caliber machine guns looking for any signs of movement on the beach. As tensions rose the men fell silent and the only sound was the droning of the ship's diesel engine. Finally, the flat bottom of the Higgins boat ground to a halt on the sandy beach.
As the ramp at the front of the boat dropped the soldiers prepared to storm the beach. Was the war really over? They were about to find out.
"If the Japanese had not surrendered when they did", my father once told me, "I probably would have died on Wakayama beach." And so it was that, on the way to Kyoto, I said goodbye to my three friends and took a separate very personal journey to the city of Wakayama. Walking away from the train station I found a small grocery store and asked the clerk how I would get to the beach. "Basu tame hama, bus to beach?" "Gojuuichi, fifty-one." I bought a pair of geta, a form of traditional Japanese footwear that resemble both clogs and flip-flops, and went looking for the fifty-one bus.
As I stood on the beach looking out at the sea I tried to imagine the Fifth Fleet standing offshore as the landing craft approached the shore. I tried to feel what my dad had felt as he landed. Behind me was a condominium development. Below me was a municipal fishing pier. I watched students from the Wakayama Medical School sailing team tie up their boats and bent down to scoop up some sand from the beach. It was dark when I checked into our hostel in Otsu, a small town on the western shore of Lake Biwa. As I slipped into one of the bunkbeds it began to rain. I could hear Larry and Allan talking. "Wow, it's really coming down!" "Yeah, poor Mark." I smiled and drifted off to sleep.
Comments (13)
alanwilliams
This positively glows
myrrhluz
Lovely memories and image. I like to go to places of meaning, whether personal or historical, and try to feel the weight of times past. Sometimes it's very elusive, but other times I feel it very strongly.
durleybeachbum
Marvellous evocation of both your father's and your experience.
lucindawind
sentimental and lovely
MrsLubner
This does have a memory in it. Seems the air is heavy with the burden. Stellar shot.
Faemike55
WOW1 wonderful tie-in, Mark! Moving words
jmb007
bon recit et photo!
sandra46
superb narrative, very interesting slice of life! and wonderful shot!
tennesseecowgirl
Thanks for sharing your journey with us. Very touching to read about.
delaorden_ojeda
wonderful story for this great picture , I wonder why so many war are useful for what , very sad , many thanks for great comments , your spanish is very good , indeed , thanks !
mariogiannecchini
Bella immagine ,fonte di vecchi ricordi legati a tuo padre !Wonderful shot ! Beautiful image, the source of old memories of your father! Wonderful shot!
psyoshida
A wonderful title and a very wonderful tribute to your Dad. Thanks goodness history played out the way it did, your Dad lived and today we are reading your story of that fact. Perfect.
danapommet
Awesome narrative Mark. What a difference 10 days can make. Thank you for sharing this special story and for honoring your father in this way. Dana