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.When my father was able to tell him the correct answer, the instructor stood dumbfounded.After class, he excused my father from the rest of the course.Each subsequent class that day would follow the same pattern; the instructor would give students a pre-test, never expecting anyone to pass it.But my father passed time and again.By the end of the day, he was excused from six of the seven daily classes.The only one that remained was Navy Procedure, a mandatory class for all radioman candidates.Dad now had only a one-hour course each day, and seven hours with nothing to do, so when a Chief Specialist pulled him aside and asked him if he wanted to learn a different kind of code, just for fun, my father was happy to have something to do to pass the time.It seemed informal enough, just one serviceman to another.The code was one based on the Japanese language.It was called Katakana or Kana for short.They sat across from each other in a classroom filled with communications equipment.People walked by now and then but paid no attention.Neither teacher nor student shared any personal information, other than what they’d done in their civilian life; the student had worked for the railroad and his teacher had worked for the FBI.Day after day, my father learned the complicated code that had about 125 characters, versus the mere thirty-two he was used to.At first he struggled a bit, but soon he caught on and he even found that he was good at it.But when radio school ended, so did his one-on-one lessons.It was all just for fun and he was glad he’d had something to fill the long hours.After graduating from radio school, he spent a few weeks at home before his parents drove him to the airport, travel orders in hand.He flew to San Francisco and then took a bus across the Bay Bridge to Treasure Island, a small island between San Francisco and Oakland.He knew—everyone knew—that if you were sent there, you were going overseas.He lived on the military base for a few weeks before receiving further travel orders.This time, he wasn’t told where he was going, only that he would travel by ship.He left the sunny California shore aboard a ship with about twenty of his classmates from radio school and hundreds of other servicemen.Dad continued to write letters to his folks, though now he was ordered not to tell his family where he was going or how he was getting there.All outgoing correspondence was censored, but he quickly learned the tricks to getting around those censors.His family and friends had received letters first from Farragut Naval Base, and then from Treasure Island, California.But letters coming to him were slow.The mail was always behind, following him from one new address to another.It was at this time that he made a promise to himself.Having left his small farming town behind, he was now homesick for the first time in his life.He vowed that when he finally did begin receiving letters, he would write back within twenty-four hours.At home that night, I thought about the story my father had told me.Perhaps he had told me this story before, but it had never seemed so vibrant, so real, as it had this time.It was a small thing perhaps.But it was a start.I began reading his letters again, this time with a better understanding of who he was then and how he ended up so far from home.CHAPTER FOURAcross the YearsArrived at about 1730 yesterday, got skinned alive.In other words, my wavy locks are almost a minus quality.—April 28, 1944As I made my way through the next batch of letters, I was struck by the enthusiasm in my father’s writing after he got his orders to ship out.January 9, 1945Dear Folks,Well, here we are but where are we going? That is the question.So darned many things have happened since my last letter that I don’t know where to start.In fact everything is censored so can’t say much of anything.We can say that we had an uneventful trip but not as smooth as the plane trip to Frisco.In fact I was very squeamish all the way.The minute we sighted land tho I came right out of it and went on deck.Aside from being a little weak I’m feeling like a million.Oh yes, we can also say we are at [cut out by censors]—Just get all the books you can on the Hawaiian Islands and you’ll know as much about it all as I do.I’m just bubbling over with enthusiasm for the place.That’s sure not like my Navy career prior to this time.But it’s just like another dream—off that darned ship and on this plane.We have everything around us here you ever read or heard about the islands.I’ll try to send some souvenir booklets.You know, I’d like to visit or even live here in peace time.Here it is January and during the day it’s just like spring at home.Just a little on the warm side, but seems like a light breeze blowing most of the time.Then at night it’s real cool.Use just one blanket but I don’t really need it and sleep like a log.This place is just like a rest cure.It’s sure not a disappointment from what I’ve ever heard of the islands.Everything’s green and fertile.You never see any brown dirt.It’s all a brick red color and tracks into everything.Really is fertile tho.Seems like everything grows in it.We have the best food here since I’ve been in the Navy.And plenty of it.We have nice clean barracks—all kinds of facilities for entertainment, even an outdoor theatre where you sit on a grassy bank and watch the show.I’m still swaying around as if I were still aboard ship.Sure hope I can get an island base somewhere.Haven’t had any work to do yet and did nothing aboard ships.I’m beginning to think we just wasted our time in school.Nothing to do with radio yet.Well, we lost some more of the gang yesterday.Some of them went on from here on the transport.Took us off alphabetically to the Mc’s and so that cut us in two again.Won’t be much of the original gang left when we get to our final destination.Haven’t had any liberties yet but don’t care at all except maybe to see a couple of the cities.It’s so nice and green and quiet right here that I don’t even care to see a city for awhile.Keep writing and often.Use this new address until further notice and either send airmail or V-mail.Send all the fotos you can get your hands on.Maybe when I get settled a little I can send for the whole album.Well, you know right about where I am, how I am, and all about Oahu now, so everyone should be happy—including the censors.Of course still have no idea where or when from here except doubt very much if we go east (fat chance).Write and tell everyone else to.Lots of Love, MurrayI laughed to myself.I found it funny that with a war in full swing he was talking about the green grass.You see, my father had always had the most plush and green lawn in his neighborhood.He was obsessed with having the greenest, thickest grass.I don’t know if he was competing with the neighbors or only with himself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]