Later Days

 

Within a few days the town of Muramatsu became desolate. When evening came, there were no more American soldiers walking down the street from the camp. Souvenir shops were nearly all closed. No more jeeps were seen. Only a truck or two were seen occasionally running to and from the station to send out the rest of the Army goods.

At the RTO office, three new boys took over, and it was turned into a truck drivers' club house. Every time the drivers came to the station they spent some time with us. We talked or sang together. The favorite song with them was a Japanese soldiers' song called "Goodbye, Rabaul." They had inserted the world "Okinawa" and later "Muramatsu" in place of Rabaul and sang it in Japanese.

One of the three boys was a big Swedish man. He was almost over-generous and was in the habit of giving away everything as "presento" -- C rations, cigarets, and when they left, they even gave us some blankets which originally belonged to the Japanese Army.

He invited Miss Kato and I to partake of the lunch that was brought for them by truck drivers. It was carried in metal utensils and was very good. The boys complained they were tired of eating the same thing every day, but it was a treat for us.

In the meantime, snow was falling thick every day, and after a heavy snow-fall which stopped the trains, they started to use the rotary plough. Icicles hung two or three feet long from the eaves of houses, and all the passengers were wearing rubber boots.

In several weeks the whole town would be buried under snow which would reach the second floor. Then, the people would walk only under the roof which projected itself over the side walks of the street. In order to go to the other side, a tunnel would be made in the snow at convenient places.

The sky was grey and dark all the time. Not even a patch of blue was to be seen.

"Are we going to spend the gloomy winter in this town?" I felt miserable.

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