"Are you ready?" Mr. Kuno asked me.
"Where are we going?" I was surprised.
"We are taking Lt. Kontz for salmon fishing. And you will come with us, of course."
I had been told nothing about it. I looked at my kimono in embarrassment. Kimono isn't a costume for going fishing. The day before, I bicycled to the rice distribution office to get my ration and fell into a ditch. As a result I could not wear my slacks and shoes -- my only pair -- that day.
A river went round through the town and the rice distribution office was on the road along the river. I had just learned to ride a bicycle and the rice bag was so heavy. Besides, I should have started with my right foot instead of the left ... As it was, I literally jumped into the river -- fortunately it was only thigh-deep -- with the bicycle and the rice and all. I barely saved the rice which was to support us for half a month. When I came back to the station and was just about to sneak away, Lt. Marlor caught me. He stared at my miserable plight and said, "Well, Goto-san, I hope you will never try to commit suicide again." I was very glad it was not Ferocious Grotious.
"But you see, Mr. Kuno, I am in kimono today."
"That's all right. Come on."
Lt. Kontz, the stout MP chief, was waiting in his jeep.
We drove through the town of Gosen and after driving about 20 minutes along the bank of the river we made our way along a branch of river until we saw a small hut on the beach. It was a peculiar shaped hut - triangular -- and made of dried reed. A fisherman came out of the hut to meet us. He led us to the shore where a long shallow-bottomed boat was moored. There was another boat upstream from which a naked fisherman was keenly watching the water with a spear in hand.
Our fisherman lightly jumped into his boat followed by the slow and careful lieutenant. Then I expected Mr. Machida and Mr. Kuno to get in, but they told me to go on board.
"The boat is too small for five of us, and we know how it is," they said.
So I tucked my long sleeves inside my "obi" (sash) and carefully stepped down the cliff. Having been brought up with my brothers and used to playing ball instead of dolls, I made it easily, in spite of my bothersome kimono. I sat at the stern with the lieutenant in the center.
The boat glided upstream toward the other boat. The water was clear and we could almost see the bottom though the green water. The river was about 10 meters wide, and the late afternoon sun rays falling through leaves overhead were dancing on the water.
"If it were earlier, we could see better because there would be no shade on the surface of the water."
So saying the boatman handed a box-like square thing to Lt. Kontz, and told him by gesture to look into the water. The box had a glass bottom.
"Oh, this is wonderful!" the lieutenant exclaimed.
When I looked into the river through the glass, I could see everything very clearly. In the shade of the rocks at the bottom and through the streaming weed, I could discern the shape of passing fish.
"See a salmon?" the boatman asked. With a disappointed "No.", I handed the glass back.
"It swims very fast and is always hiding," the boatman said and shouted "Caught any?" to the man in the other boat, who in answer shook his head.
Then, the other fisherman rowed his boat still upstream and to the opposite shore which was a sandy shallow, and stripped off his pants and became stark naked. While I was wondering what he was going to do, he walked slowly into the water.
He went knee-deep, thigh-deep and then, with a splash, he dived into the water. I strained my eyes against the sun to find his figure, but after a short while his head appeared a quite an unexpected place. He took a long breath and again disappeared. After a few dives in vain, he finally came up with a big salmon under his arm. We clapped our hands in applause.
The salmon was about three feet long and on its side was a cut made by the spear. It was still alive.
When we came back to the shore, we were invited into the hut. At the entrance a rough straw mat was hung by way of a curtain and inside was a small room which accommodated only six or seven people.
Around the fire we sat on the straw mats each with a plate, bowl, cup and chopsticks. Above the fire was hung a large pot from the top of the triangle-shaped ceiling. An appetite stimulating smell of cooking salmon, horse-radish, and onion filled the interior. The fisherman came in with slices of salmon stuck on tongs and put them in the ash around the fire. Ont he wall were hung various fishing tackle and fisherman's clothes.
While I was looking around with curiosity, the fisherman took the lid of the pot off and served us with the contents. Salmon and vegetables were cooked in Japanese sauce. It was steaming hot, and so delicious and fresh! The two American guests, Lt. Kontz and his driver, sitting tightly in the tiny room did not decline whenever the toastmaster, the fisherman, offered them another bowl of stewed salmon and vegetables.
"I have never eaten such a tasty fish," they said again and again. Lt. Kontz who was one of my pupils in Japanese was thinking hard to express himself in the newly-learned language. Their Japanese hosts, Mr. Machida and Mr. Kuno, watched their American guests devour the meal with cups of "sake" and a look of satisfaction.
Although I held it against Mr. Kuno that he had a mistress and was proud of it, I couldn't dislike him when I saw him generously smiling with his narrow eyes hidden between the wrinkles.
At last we were really full. Lt. Kontz put down his chopsticks for good with a sign of contentment and "Mo takusan desu." (No more, thank you)
When I came out into the fresh open air from the closeness of the interior thick with the smell of "sake" and food, I felt good and I breathed in the cool serenity of the November evening. The driver and I joined Lt. Kontz in thanking Mr. Kuno and Mr. Machida for the unexpected party.
On our way back, jovial Lt. Kontz who was in particularly good humor after cups of "sake" suddenly turned back and asked "Do Japanese people kiss?" I translated the query for Mr. Machida and Mr. Kuno and then answered, "There is a historic document of the 16th century in which the writer of the letter, a famous war-lord, mentioned kissing his mistress. So I don't think it is a new custom introduced by the Westerners. And whether contemporary Japanese kiss or not, you will get the answer from Mr. Machida and Mr. Kuno's faces."
Lt. Kontz looked at their grinning faces and laughed aloud.
When the jeep pulled up at the station entrance, I stood up to jump down as usual. But being in kimono I was not alert enough, when the big Lt. Kontz picked me up in his arms and lightly put me down on the ground in the midst of all the curious-eyed middle school boys waiting for their train. It was so embarrassing. I felt sure I would surely lose their respect.
"Don't! This is not a Japanese custom." My protest was too late.
"You should have told me so before."
The Americans laughed and drove away around the corner.
