Japan, a Picture Painted

U.S. Army Japan, A Picture Painted:

So, ok. Here’s my rant for today. I’ve been on this island of Kyushu here in Japan for about five days now. Give or take a half day lost to moving forward in time to the day after. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it though, because we’ll get back that same day on the back-side when we make the return trip. It’s interesting how you can come out of the U.S. and travel 36 hours and end up 48 hours out, but when you come back you travel the same 36 hours and somehow arrive on the same day you left. Whatever. Suffice it to say, you’re pretty much dog-squeeze when you arrive and then two weeks later when you try to make the adjustment you lose all steam at three in the afternoon. It’s hell on a guy’s Circadian rhythm I tell ya.

OK, so where were we? Oh, well there are some things that I’ve taken note of. Many positive, quite a few negative but if you’ll bear with me, I think we can laugh at both. So, first off, the first thing is the tents we’re living in. Let’s back up, so let me paint you a picture. See, most all of us are staying on a make-shift camp in an “LSA”. I’m not entirely sure what that stands for, but the, “L” is most likely “Living” and “A” is most likely, “Area”. That leaves the “S” which could be a four-letter word of the most unsavory kind. Who knows really? Some Command Sergeant Major I guess. OK, on this, “LSA” there are in approximate 700 Soldiers of the U.S. variety and a whole slug of Japanese dudes. They have their tent area, we have ours. So, these tents, are aligned, as though a surveyor aligned them. You want to talk about anal? Well the Japanese invented it. Our tents are canvas, green of course, and square in measurements of perhaps 15x15’. There’s a center pole and a nice little kerosene heater that has a five-gallon can outside that needs daily filling. There’s a single light in the center, and a dual plug for plugging in 100 volt appliances and cell phones and what-not.

Outside the tent, about 200 yards away, are a bank of port-o-lets numbering perhaps 30 and four or five mobile shower units each containing about 20 shower stalls. The shower stalls are individual with a locking door and a spigot that is about 18” off the ground and a long dangly wand that you can switch to for the shower option. Everything is about 2/3 the correct size, to include the toilets and the shower height. Also important to note is the fact that the water alternates from 211 degrees to 88 degrees with nothing in between. 1/50th turn on the hot or cold water will make the instant change to either extreme.

We eat chow in a “Dining Facility”. We’re eating, “UGR” meals for morning meal and evening meal. UGR stands for something I’m sure and you’re welcome to Google it on your own time. They are basically pre-packaged meal sets that have enough portions for fifty people within each UGR. Just heat and eat. No stirring, no mixing and all the same delicious flavors you’ve come to expect from Army Chow. Some of the delights we’ve been treated to of late include, Rubber Eggs, Corndog Pancakes with Sausage Surprise, and my personal favorite, Chicken Cordon Bleu. (Heavy on the “Blew” please). Sorry, I’m working in between my ranting. Where were we? Ah yes. So, then there’s the little issue of having no butter. In fact, I Can’t Believe There’s No Butter. How exactly am I expected to choke down my Wonder Bread without butter/butter substitute. I guess we’re all getting a little fat or something. Speaking of chow-halls and ridiculous, I got politely corrected yesterday for looking around the sneeze guard. I couldn’t see through the film as to what the private was putting on my cardboard tray. I can’t hear very well, so I was peering around and got a sharp, “Sir! Can you PLEASE move back behind the sneeze guard?!” It was pretty humiliating because I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t see through the make-shift stretchy syran wrap sneeze guard they had jerry rigged. So, whatever. Anyhow, then inside this chow hall, they have tables which are about six inches too short. So short that you can’t put your legs under the table. So you end up all hunched over, about ten inches too far away from the action, dribbling rubber eggs down the front of your uniform. Couple with that the fact that they pack the tables about two feet too close together and you’ve got yourself a dining experience worth writing home about.

So, I mentioned before about the toilets. Well, see in Japan, the toilets are basically a porcelain hole in the ground that flushes. Imagine your camping, and you have to go po-po, but you’ve happened along a tree that just so happened to be outfitted with a porcelain receiving area. Anyhow,that’s what we’re working with here. Additionally, someone had the brilliant idea(r) to mount a western toilet over the top of the porto-let hole. Only, they mounted it about six inches too close to the door. Oh, forgot to mention that the starting hole was elevated about ten inches off of the landing inside of the port-o-let. So, what you end up with, is a jacked-up (and I do mean JACKED-UP!) toilet that when you decide to Numero Dos, you have to strategically approach. I mean, picture this, you have about five inches of space betwixt the front of the aforementioned toilet, and the closed (presumably) door. So, when you’re ready to partially disrobe, you lean forward (as is customary) to debrief, bang your head on the door, and scrape the back of your pants down the front of the toilet. NOW, if you’re successful in navigating this obstacle, you can mount said toilet. Only, it’s too tall. So you end up, with your tippy-toes on the floor jammed between the door and the toilet, your paper butt-gasket you made slipping away into the john and your left sorta hanging there. Well, imagine then you have to reverse the process, only, there’s that one little issue involving single-ply Charmin to contend with. Yeah, suffice it to say, a Chinese gymnast would be challenged to complete the transaction.

OK, whatelse? Oh, yeah, then, because you’re surrounded by an entire Corps (an “Army” in the truest sense of the word) staff of people, you have every Sergeant Major and every Colonel known to man expecting to excise their authority on the masses. So, for example, we’re walking back from, “Friendship Hall” (A place to drink beer with your Japanese counter-part) and it’s dark, on account of it’s, well night time. So, I’m walking with this young lieutenant, and it’s about four degrees. So, the LT, because it’s cold has his hands (wrongfully) in his pockets trying to keep the skin from freezing instantly I would assume. Well, of course, some pogue (see also, “Douche”) Sergeant Major is walking towards us with his full-bird Colonel and says, (ironically on his WAY to Friendship Hall) “Sir, you want to take your hands out of your pockets please?” So, of course the LT does. But we are stunned at the ridiculous nature at which the Army places importance on tradition over Soldier wellness. REALLY? REALLY there Sergeant Major?! That’s our biggest concern involved in protecting mainland Japan against aggression by China or North Korea?! THIS is our issue? Some poor aviator lieutenant trying to keep his hands warm after being forced to interact with non-English speaking Japanese while listening to ten chicks and two dudes in Kimono playing four-stringed ancient guitars??! This is what we’ve come to?! Seriously. Google, “Ass-Bag” and see if your picture doesn’t come up as a result.

OK, so, I forgot to mention the walk-ways on the LSA. Betwixt the tents I alluded to earlier, are boardwalks of the slickest variety of plywood. They’re really nice in the event of mud, however at four in the a.m. on your way to take a tinkle they’re down-right slickery. In fact, some major biffed it right outside our tent last night and probably broke a tailbone.

Whatelse? Oh, the MWR tent. Yeah, we have an MWR tent which is open from 0900-about 2100. Pretty much allowing for one hour of use after you work all day and have some of that scrumptious chow I alluded to earlier. WHY with 700 Soldiers they can’t just open the damn thing 24 hours a day is beyond me. So you have ten computers with internet access, three hours of potential use, and 700 Soldiers to use them. Yeah, do the math genius. 24 hour ops might be a good way to go here. Oh, I forgot to mention the MWR (Morale Welfare and Recreation) tent is well heated, has a giant TV and a projection movie (which you can’t hear the dialogue) two table tennis and a slew of romance novels and self-help books. Oh, and at last count, they now offer free copies of the, Stars and Lies Newspaper. So you got THAT going for you, which is nische.

So, I’m excited to say that I’m still in spite of that all having a good time. The Japanese are the best of hosts. We’ve acetated the shiz out of this war against the good guys (forgot to mention we’re playing the part of bad-dudes). Oh, and acetate, is a clear film that goes over the top of maps. You put really official looking icons on them which represent tank companies and infantry and helo’s and what not. It’s like playing the official home version of Axis and Allies only the Army has a whole Field Manuel just for the icons. Anyhow, you feel a little like General Patton, planning the demise of the German Army. Only they took away my pearl handled pistols and riding boots and handed me back some Sharpie markers and some swell looking tan boots that set off my eyes just so.

Whatelse? Yeah, not much more I guess. Tonight I’m going to be adopted by some Japanese family. I had to go get a gift in preparation. See they’re going to serve us dinner and take us in for the evening. It’s gonna be great. I imagine about fifty of us are going. They’ll have us meet in front of the PX here in a couple of hours. I asked the major I’m working with if they are going to pick us out like puppies. I haven’t as yet decided whether to be the hyper –active whiney aggressive puppy, or the tubby little fat puppy at the back of the pen that’s sleeping. Some people like one and others like the other. I guess it’s a crap shoot at this point.

OK kids, I am going to close this for now. Only ten more days of this active-duty ridiculousness. I had forgotten how much I hate the mundane day-to-day that the Active Component insists on exercising. We’re seriously discussing in the senior Non Commissioned Officer leadership (aka “Sergeants Major”) whether the cold weather hat must be worn with gloves or not. Idiocy I tell you. You go to war with the gloves you have, not the gloves you want. OK, so, you two both be good. I’ll have little packets of sugar and some empty chocolate milk containers for you when I get home if you behave for your mother. Don’t do anything I might do, but if you do, do it four times and then beg forgiveness. You only go round once in this world and you might as well leave an impression where e’r you go.

Hugs and kisses on all your pink parts. I gotta go.

J. -Out!