mark s conley
Active member
Hopefully this for the Air Force camp followers,,the wives and children of the sponsor called...dependants. we were just called military brats. and brats...have real funny stories. i still attend brat parties, where real real brats were cooked, himmmm that phrase just doesn't seem to roil correctly (unless the young brats were seen drawing lots on whose turn it was to distract the teacher..at six years old and in packs...yes dependants could be a paramilitary force of their own. but here's a story about me in the sixties...during our stay in misawa japan.
Folks..i haven't been quite honest with you. I have, or may have been affected, by a childhood incident in Misawa Japan.
First, my father and mother had their hands full trying to keep me under control. Especially in japan in 1964, when any military dependant that exhibited unruly or uncontrollable behavior were sent home without the sponsor. Several times my father stood tall in front of his commander, praying that I wouldn't be sent home.
During spring time 1965, I had a girlfriend. Sgt Tucker was a friend of my father. And I struck up a friendship with his daughter. The problem was, she lived across the street from me in Misawa, Japan. Those streets were dangerous: worse, the driver drove on the left side of the road. Fast. And my father told me: do not cross that road under any circumstances.
I had just crossed the road and was talking with her when a 16 year old boy, who was not a safety patrol member but just a common American like me grabbed me by my attached coat hood, and slung me into the street telling me to go back to my bus stop.. That is the last thing I remember: I blacked out.
I came too in an operating theater, watching a bunch of doctors as they looked at pictures of my head. In color. They talked very excitedly and were actually rubbing elbows in order to get close. The only thing i could think of: stitches, shots, and the punishment of room confinement with no books, tv. I made a noise, and my mother turned around and screamed. It got awful noise full as my mother had thought i was going to be in a coma for the rest of my life.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with me except I smelled awful. They let my mom give me a bath/shower, as I stunk pretty good. They then gave me something to wear, as they had rapidly unclothed me with scissors. My umbrella wasn't found immediately: they discovered it on someone's roof. They didn't find my shoes at all. I was discharged that evening with a clean bill of health. My mom was also pregnant with Lea Ann at the time: happily she delivered her on 1 july 1965.
I found out, after the punishment, from Yuri, our maid, about what happened. A young man on a new honda motorcycle, with the extended windscreen, was at or above 70 mph (not kilometers per hour when a boy in a gray coat, and brown pants just suddenly appeared in front of him. I hit the windscreen , bounced off, and flew about 100 feet, to land in a benjo ditch, an open Japanese sewer. I was rescued alive from the raw sewage by a national, as the ditch is usually about 3 feet wide and six feet deep. My mom, told what had happened by marva my sister, freaked out totally. My adopted British mum (great lady) called the base ambulance, the busdriver stopped traffic, and another foreign national waded in and got me out.
The japanese police arrested the driver and threw him into jail. 3 weeks later, they were at the base commander's office, asking about the boy who threw me into the road: prison awaited him also. It would seem that my girlfriend, and the rest of that group of dependents, talked to the japanese social worker that had been sent to ease the trauma, and gently reminded them to look very carefully before they crossed the street. My father, who was considering sending me back as I had disobeyed his instructions, was scared when the commander again called my father to his office, and asked him if he wanted to seek compensation. The young man's father was very relieved when his son was absolved of all blame, and he was released to his fathers custody.
The kid in the gray coat left quickly. He was put on a military aircraft, and flown home to the US that very night. As I had spent a month in my room, my father lifted the punishment, and I was free.
But i do have one claim to fame: i don't think anyone has ever been baptized and saved by a sewer. God is funny sometimes.
Absolutely true story
:
Folks..i haven't been quite honest with you. I have, or may have been affected, by a childhood incident in Misawa Japan.
First, my father and mother had their hands full trying to keep me under control. Especially in japan in 1964, when any military dependant that exhibited unruly or uncontrollable behavior were sent home without the sponsor. Several times my father stood tall in front of his commander, praying that I wouldn't be sent home.
During spring time 1965, I had a girlfriend. Sgt Tucker was a friend of my father. And I struck up a friendship with his daughter. The problem was, she lived across the street from me in Misawa, Japan. Those streets were dangerous: worse, the driver drove on the left side of the road. Fast. And my father told me: do not cross that road under any circumstances.
I had just crossed the road and was talking with her when a 16 year old boy, who was not a safety patrol member but just a common American like me grabbed me by my attached coat hood, and slung me into the street telling me to go back to my bus stop.. That is the last thing I remember: I blacked out.
I came too in an operating theater, watching a bunch of doctors as they looked at pictures of my head. In color. They talked very excitedly and were actually rubbing elbows in order to get close. The only thing i could think of: stitches, shots, and the punishment of room confinement with no books, tv. I made a noise, and my mother turned around and screamed. It got awful noise full as my mother had thought i was going to be in a coma for the rest of my life.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with me except I smelled awful. They let my mom give me a bath/shower, as I stunk pretty good. They then gave me something to wear, as they had rapidly unclothed me with scissors. My umbrella wasn't found immediately: they discovered it on someone's roof. They didn't find my shoes at all. I was discharged that evening with a clean bill of health. My mom was also pregnant with Lea Ann at the time: happily she delivered her on 1 july 1965.
I found out, after the punishment, from Yuri, our maid, about what happened. A young man on a new honda motorcycle, with the extended windscreen, was at or above 70 mph (not kilometers per hour when a boy in a gray coat, and brown pants just suddenly appeared in front of him. I hit the windscreen , bounced off, and flew about 100 feet, to land in a benjo ditch, an open Japanese sewer. I was rescued alive from the raw sewage by a national, as the ditch is usually about 3 feet wide and six feet deep. My mom, told what had happened by marva my sister, freaked out totally. My adopted British mum (great lady) called the base ambulance, the busdriver stopped traffic, and another foreign national waded in and got me out.
The japanese police arrested the driver and threw him into jail. 3 weeks later, they were at the base commander's office, asking about the boy who threw me into the road: prison awaited him also. It would seem that my girlfriend, and the rest of that group of dependents, talked to the japanese social worker that had been sent to ease the trauma, and gently reminded them to look very carefully before they crossed the street. My father, who was considering sending me back as I had disobeyed his instructions, was scared when the commander again called my father to his office, and asked him if he wanted to seek compensation. The young man's father was very relieved when his son was absolved of all blame, and he was released to his fathers custody.
The kid in the gray coat left quickly. He was put on a military aircraft, and flown home to the US that very night. As I had spent a month in my room, my father lifted the punishment, and I was free.
But i do have one claim to fame: i don't think anyone has ever been baptized and saved by a sewer. God is funny sometimes.
Absolutely true story
:
