I entered Basic at Ft. Dix, N.J. on Nov. 17, 1969. The Army graduated my fellow trainees and I from Basic after we had only received a disturbingly trimmed portion of the prescribed military training. Ever since that terrible way to train troops, I have wondered if that lack of normal training ever got anyone killed in the Vietnam War. At that time, a main concern & focus of most young American men of military draft and entrance age was avoiding Vietnam. My knowledge of the ways, lengths, breadths, depths, heights and distances some of them went - in their quests to stay away from Vietnam - is like a boulder balanced on my brain. It hurts because most of us would have willingly joined the military to fight in a war that was worth it.
Due to those men's efforts, failures and successes in avoiding Vietnam, sometimes the Army went way too far in trying to make us troops happy to be in the Vietnam Era United States Army.
A month or two before I was to report for active duty, I had learned that my date of entrance into the Army meant I will be experiencing my first Christmas away from home. I was mentally & emotionally preparing myself for spending Christmas and New Years in a basic training barracks with the other guys there away from home. I had grown up having great family Christmas times - middle class blue collar style - with both pairs of grandparents along with most of my aunts & uncles & cousins, mother, father and sisters.
Enlisted American men and women had to be in the military on active duty during all Christmases, and 1969 was to be my first year to share that duty. It would be a tough one emotionally, but I am able to live in a free country partly because others had toughed it out before me. Many other GIs would be away from home during that holiday, too, and again in the future. I thought about the GIs who had done it while in war zones, some GIs would be doing it in Vietnam that year, so I was determined to 'ruck it up' and carry my share of the load.
Basic training was 8 weeks long. My fellow trainees and I had been in the Army for a little more than 3 weeks when we were told that Basic will be shut down for the Christmas and New Years holiday, and we trainees had to go home on leave for 2 weeks. That was 4 weeks in training, 2 weeks of leave time visiting family and friends, having fun/eating a lot/drinking a lot/dating girls/sleeping when you want and so forth, then 4 weeks back to training. Back to where you can only eat the 3 (near tasteless) meals a day served. Back to not being allowed TV, radio, record players, phones, magazines, newspapers, books, your personal style of dressing & hairstyle. No visiting with family and friends. No going anywhere but where the Army says you can. Those restrictions are necessary for becoming an effective soldier. I will never get over the unacceptable military craziness of Christmas time 1969. Suspending the training regimen for two weeks then going back to it was a ridiculous thing the Army did.
Ft. Dix was significantly cold during the winter of '69-'70, with substantial snow storms and lots of freezing air. During previous winters at Ft. Dix, some soldiers in Basic had purposely exposed their fingers and/or toes to freezing air long enough to cause themselves frostbite. Bad enough that some troops had to have frostbit parts of their bodies amputated, which then resulted in the new soldiers being medically discharged from service. It was a hell-of-a gamble, betting their fingers and/or toes against potentially worse wounds or/and death in the Nam.
Our drill sergeants told us that during certain parts of training they could not keep a watch on us trainees good enough to prevent each and every one of us new soldiers from causing ourselves frostbite. Training had to follow a prescribed schedule, so there was no switching around and rescheduling any training activities. Consequently, at Ft. Dix in 1969, the Army cancelled some of the most important training a soldier needs:
1. Obstacle Course cancelled. My only serious fear about going into Basic came from my natural born fear of heights. The obstacle course has some high climbs in it. But I had figured that having the drill sergeants along with my fellow trainees inspiring, encouraging and helping me I'd get over the high-up features of the obstacle course (known today as the confidence course).
2. Bivouac was cancelled. Bivouac in Basic Training was a 5-day campout in pup tents. This is the training loss that hurt and bothered me the most. I am an outdoorsman who was looking forward to experiencing winter camping, with my buddies, while we were learning cold weather soldiering, camping, comfort plus survival techniques and skills. We trainees knew that we'd be moving on in the Army and there may be times when our fellow soldiers would become angry at and/or disgusted with us for not knowing what we were supposed to have been trained at, and they had been trained at.
A drill sergeant said that during previous bivouac nights a few soldiers had each taken off a boot and sock then stuck that bare foot partway out of their sleeping bags and had kept it there all night till a toe or two was frostbitten enough to require amputation.
3. Twenty Mile Forced March cancelled. That was hiking whilst toting full packs, various combat gear, and carrying rifles (my beloved heavy steel and wood M14). That march is four times longer than any other we made. It was snowing heavily on the day our 20-mile forced march was scheduled for, so we were only marched out about a mile-and-a-half. Drill sergeants told us that because they could not see very far through the falling snow a trainee might simply hang a finger out of their mitten or glove and that finger will become frost bitten then have to be amputated. When they did that to their index finger, it was because they believed the Army could not send them into combat without their trigger finger.
With most of the outdoors training exercises, cooks from our company drove out with several large containers of hot coffee and one of hot chocolate for us; but that frigid day, when powdery snow was already about a foot deep, they only brought coffee. I can't stand the taste of coffee. But I needed the heat from it that day in the forest of Ft. Dix, so I drank the only cup of coffee I ever have or expect to. Fortunately (for me), the coffee was watery thin.
On the numerous days when our scheduled training was cancelled due to weather, we stayed in our barracks practicing hand to hand combat (no actual striking allowed), knife fighting techniques (rubber knives), over and over for hours. Drill sergeants often walked off and did whatever they wanted to for a few hours at a time.
To the best of my memory, I believe my platoon never ran much more than 10 miles total in Basic. Our drill sergeants' max on ordering us to do pushups was 25 at a time per day. Same for situps.
I had expected my military training to push me to the edge of - and at times further than - my personal limitations. I desired knowledge of what - militarily - knocks me down for the count. How far can I push it or be pushed? I wanted the strengths, abilities, skills, and self assurances of a well trained soldier.
I wanted to know some of what my brothers-in-arms' limits were. What can I trust them to get done?
The incomplete military basic training we received did not go anywhere near answering those extremely important questions.
I'll never be able to recall it all, and there certainly is more to this. But for most people, I doubt that I have to say more in order to explain how infuriatingly disappointing, then deeply depressing, certain aspects of my United States Army Basic Training are.
Ever since I learned to use computers, I have been trying to produce this piece. Ever since living it, I have wanted to tell of this history. The healing effects of time have lessened the deep, emotional pain of it, and my work at photography, writing and Internet publishing has given me the strength & power to deal with it publicly.
It is my country, it is the Army I was part of, that committed those idiotic acts told of above. Those historical experiences lay heavy feelings upon my shoulders. At the U.S. Army I feel some: disappointment; disgust; disrespect; anger; fear that troops today may not be trained properly. I am severely embarrassed that my government's military - the Army I was a member of - mishandled military training in those ways.
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Friday, March 1, 2019
1971 U.S. Soldiers Discover Ancient Houses and Possible Mass Grave In Okinawa's Northern Yanbaru Forest
On Okinawa, on a Saturday in 1971, some of my Army friends and I discovered what appeared to be an old mass grave - from World War Two or previous - and two Okinawan hut walls that must be hundreds of years old. We had driven to the barely populated north end of the island and camped out till Sunday afternoon. We swam in the salty, but clear, sea water right about where the East China Sea and Pacific Ocean meet. We were where a small stream of fresh water came down from the forested hills into the salt water. I wanted to see if there was a small waterfall to stand under and wash off the salt water residue. I walked up the stream bed, came to some rises in it, but none had sufficient water falling down them.
The rises became too high for me to easily climb, so I went back and got the other guys. We happily went exploring up the stream. The stream bed would rise up a rough, rocky faced drop about 10 - 15 feet and we'd stop, one of us would prod around and find a good climbing route up it. We'd all 4 of us climb it, then walk on inland. The forest was tall and tight around the stream. We saw wild boar sign - hoof prints and spots where they had laid down and slept for awhile. I had seen some wild boar tracks before I went back and got those guys, we had an ax to chop firewood for a campfire and we took that ax with us in case of wild boar trouble.
A good ways in, we found a rectangular, man made, pile of fist sized stones that were stacked about 4 ft high, 20 ft wide, and a small person's body length across. The pile was up against the 5 - 6 ft high stream bank, and the pile was flat across the top. It definitely had the look of having a stack of bodies buried under it, with heads or feet against the stream bank. That made us think it was from WW2, and the aftermath of some heavy fighting. It could have been Japanese soldiers, or Okinawan citizens buried fairly quickly. It may be hundreds of years old, but we doubted that.
I walked around the side of the rock pile and climbed up the stream bank. As I walked parallel to the rock pile, thinking maybe I'll remove some rocks off the top and work down a couple feet or so into the pile to see what is there, I look down and there was small snake's tail under some twigs under the toe of my shoe. It had its little head up, tongue darting out and in, and a stubborn look on its face. It wasn't moving away, though it could have easily disappeared from sight by slithering further under the dead twigs & leaves covering the soft, moist surface of the forest floor. One of my friends was coming towards me from the other end of the pile, and I had stopped moving my feet while I motioned for and told him to hold it, as I pointed down to the snake looking up at him and I. As I eased back off, my buddy quickly turned and went back down to the stream bed, us not having any idea whether it was a poisonous snake or what the species was, and wondering if there were more about. So we dropped the idea of exploring the rock pile deeper.
Onward, inland we went. The stream never got deeper than a foot or much wider than maybe 10 feet. The stream bed had leveled out for a good stretch.
Then we came upon another thrilling sight, the stone walled remains of two ancient huts. They had obviously had thatched roofs, of long ago rotted away organic material. The stone walls were round, about 3 ft something in height and 15 ft in diameter, constructed of castle wall style large stones, with an opening for a doorway that had a heavy flat stone laying across it. I ducked down and went into the roofless hut, and told them guys it was obvious the inhabitants had lived during sword carrying times and wanted other people entering to have the backs of their necks vulnerable to sword strikes.
The residents were most likely living more off the wild foods of the forest than grown foods from gardens and farms. They may have had small garden plots about, possibly well hidden in the woods. They would have harvested some woodland foods - like wild boar meat - for trading and definitely gathered organic materials for traditional, ancient herbal medicines plus items for ancient religious & ceremonial requirements, some traded for foods grown by farmers further south and goods made by villagers and townspeople living even further south. The Yanbaru Forest has to have unique growths of beautiful wood available, where the residents of the two huts may have known to cut sections of trees for artists to carve, for the residents to trade with artists for items, or maybe some residents created great carvings, for themselves or to trade.
I had read enough about Okinawan history to know that Japanese invaders came from the north numerous times. This was the barely populated north end of Okinawa. Evil raiders from various foreign lands plied the coastline, seeking the tiniest, weakest, vulnerable populations to exploit. I knew that the houses were strategically placed back in where it takes serious effort to travel into, and that the rises in stream bank elevations, with thick woods slopping up hills on both sides of the stream, make for exceptional upstream defense capabilities. I pondered whether the rock pile was a mass grave from Japanese invaders, or a cache of their supplies for a return trip. Or captured treasures, to be retrieved later.
Also, ancient Okinawan factions had many wars with each other, and their soldiers may have gone anywhere to seek and fight or escape enemies. There were roving bandits and other mean rogues about, all looking for victims and some seeking hideouts. Those deadly peoples' actions added to why the houses were built back in up there, either for peaceful civilians' or defeated fighters' protection. The pile of rocks might be from those times. Somethings or some people were buried there.
The people who constructed and lived in the stone huts may have been banished from one of Okinawa's kingdoms. Royalty who messed with more powerful royalty, an architect who designed lousy structures, incompetent engineers, failed military men. Poor peasants who attempted to attain better lives. Jesters, musicians, artists, astrologers, soothsayers, anyone who's works offended their royal benefactors could have been banished.
It may have been seasonal residences, a place to stay for hunting & gathering, or an occasional getaway from the heavily populated southern part of the island. A place to take in the rejuvenating effects of nature at its wildest. A place of rest and meditation. Someplace where a person can think clearly without the noises and pressures of densely habitated castle life constantly entering the mind.
The shallow, meager stream water was only covering a thin path in the wider, well washed, packed down sand of the stream bed. I knew that the water flow increased - significantly - at least during Okinawa's May to Mid June Rainy Seasons. It must flood during heavy typhoons. The huts were right at the edge of the - wash cleared & flattened - water coarse, where highest level waters can enter the doorways. But, the highest levels during rainy season may have only reached right there in front of the doorways. High flooding might have only occurred rarely.
We GIs were halfway around the world from back home and right where we wanted to be - in a Far East adventure. That night, we witnessed the wonderful beauty of the Milky Way for our first times. Clear atmosphere, no electric lighting for many miles, I learned that the Milky Way is a band of bright, dense starlight that looks like a silver sparkled river of pure, white milk.
Darn me. I did not have my camera. I didn't realize photos of our little trip to a beach would be of value in the future. I wish I had gone back there to the north end with my camera later. I thought about it, I wanted to, but never have.
We never told anyone about our archaeological discoveries, and I can't believe we never asked any Okinawan university history departments if they had archaeologists who'd love to work that site. Finally, about a decade ago, I contacted Okinawan universities' history departments, I contacted some Okinawan newspapers, but never received any emails back and when I called on the phone never got a hold of anyone who could speak English well enough.
The area now has houses next to the beach and in other places not occupied in '71. Maybe someone who lives there or someone who went exploring up the stream since '71 has told the proper people about it. Someone may have torn the pile of rocks apart, but I doubt it, because Okinawans respect the dead and that pile of rocks is either a mass grave or a cache of some sort. Supplies or weapons from WW2? From centuries ago? Soldiers buried with ancient armor on. I gotta know.
I need to know what the status of that archaeological discovery is today. I love the Okinawan people, and want them to have the benefits of any historical information learnable from the area. I want anything that fits to be in their museums. For decades, I've felt bad about not telling them back then.
After several intense searches on Google Earth, during the past decade, I finally - freakin' - located the spot where the adventure happened. The images below are the most recent of the area from Google Earth.
The road is a replacement for the original dirt road we drove on, which was - years later - washed out by a storm. There were no buildings near there, in '71, and those few there today have a solid amount of peaceful solitude. The occupants probably don't want other people trekking through there to an archaeological site. A potential tourist attraction. Certain occupants may know about the historic site out in the woods from their backyards, but don't tell anyone about it.
I clearly recall the tall rock at the right and the ones out in the water. I was loving life out snorkeling around the rocks sticking up out of the water. Fantastically colored and shaped fish moving everywhere in schools. Like large, tightly choreographed groups of fancy dancers. We had my friend's car parked near the rock to the right. The car was a $50.00 1953 Oldsmobile, brush painted blue and yellow. Who cares what the goofy, cheap paint job looks like, the worn out old heap runs. The car's owner grabs a hand filling chunk of rock from the base of the giant rock and heaves the rock chunk up in an arch, and it comes down on a side of the car; the owner grinning, saying he wanted to clean the road dust off. He chucks a few more, I do too, another guy joins in, then we all were. Each time we - slightly tensely - hoped we'd miss the windows, and we were amazed that we missed every time and did not break any glass. Pure, dumb ass, fun and relaxation for low income soldiers.
You can see how the land rises into hills, and the stream flows down from them.
See those rocky places, those were elevating all along our route. I knew then, that if I ever make it back, it is best to bring an extension ladder for ease of climbing. With archaeologists, university students, possibly media persons along, maybe local government officials, will require items along for protection from wild boars. Possibly a pistol or rifle, definitely bear spray style large mace canisters.
If the area has been well worked on by archaeologists and historians, I want to know.
If I could afford it, I'd fly over there and check the area out again. I want to go back.
I need to know what the situation is there.
I crave knowledge of what may be of historical significance further inland along the stream.
I'd love to know that it is - or becomes - a significant, archaeological, historical location. It would be fantastic if schools had students studying that history and to write about who may have lived there and what their times in the great, tall, thick, Yanbaru Forest were like. Heck, have public contests for all ages to write fictional, historically based, short stories, maybe write made up letters about hut life - as if the words come from long ago people of the huts in the forest.
It can be a godsend to the right novelist, who will one day present the people of Okinawa with a - wonderfully historically accurate - book about hut dwellers hundreds of years ago in the northern forest. The huts were probably used by various peoples for centuries.
OH! Jumpin' Jiminy!! The ancient artifacts that are scattered about under and on the forest floor. All along the stream and out in the woods beside it, let the pros and student archaeologists find them, for Okinawa.
KUDASAI, SOMEBODY OVER THERE PLEASE HELP ME!!!!!!!!
(as the Japanese writing character on my first gold earring said)
愛 (love),
David Robert Crews
{a.k.a. ursusdave}
ursusdave at yahoo dot com
The rises became too high for me to easily climb, so I went back and got the other guys. We happily went exploring up the stream. The stream bed would rise up a rough, rocky faced drop about 10 - 15 feet and we'd stop, one of us would prod around and find a good climbing route up it. We'd all 4 of us climb it, then walk on inland. The forest was tall and tight around the stream. We saw wild boar sign - hoof prints and spots where they had laid down and slept for awhile. I had seen some wild boar tracks before I went back and got those guys, we had an ax to chop firewood for a campfire and we took that ax with us in case of wild boar trouble.
A good ways in, we found a rectangular, man made, pile of fist sized stones that were stacked about 4 ft high, 20 ft wide, and a small person's body length across. The pile was up against the 5 - 6 ft high stream bank, and the pile was flat across the top. It definitely had the look of having a stack of bodies buried under it, with heads or feet against the stream bank. That made us think it was from WW2, and the aftermath of some heavy fighting. It could have been Japanese soldiers, or Okinawan citizens buried fairly quickly. It may be hundreds of years old, but we doubted that.
I walked around the side of the rock pile and climbed up the stream bank. As I walked parallel to the rock pile, thinking maybe I'll remove some rocks off the top and work down a couple feet or so into the pile to see what is there, I look down and there was small snake's tail under some twigs under the toe of my shoe. It had its little head up, tongue darting out and in, and a stubborn look on its face. It wasn't moving away, though it could have easily disappeared from sight by slithering further under the dead twigs & leaves covering the soft, moist surface of the forest floor. One of my friends was coming towards me from the other end of the pile, and I had stopped moving my feet while I motioned for and told him to hold it, as I pointed down to the snake looking up at him and I. As I eased back off, my buddy quickly turned and went back down to the stream bed, us not having any idea whether it was a poisonous snake or what the species was, and wondering if there were more about. So we dropped the idea of exploring the rock pile deeper.
Onward, inland we went. The stream never got deeper than a foot or much wider than maybe 10 feet. The stream bed had leveled out for a good stretch.
Then we came upon another thrilling sight, the stone walled remains of two ancient huts. They had obviously had thatched roofs, of long ago rotted away organic material. The stone walls were round, about 3 ft something in height and 15 ft in diameter, constructed of castle wall style large stones, with an opening for a doorway that had a heavy flat stone laying across it. I ducked down and went into the roofless hut, and told them guys it was obvious the inhabitants had lived during sword carrying times and wanted other people entering to have the backs of their necks vulnerable to sword strikes.
The residents were most likely living more off the wild foods of the forest than grown foods from gardens and farms. They may have had small garden plots about, possibly well hidden in the woods. They would have harvested some woodland foods - like wild boar meat - for trading and definitely gathered organic materials for traditional, ancient herbal medicines plus items for ancient religious & ceremonial requirements, some traded for foods grown by farmers further south and goods made by villagers and townspeople living even further south. The Yanbaru Forest has to have unique growths of beautiful wood available, where the residents of the two huts may have known to cut sections of trees for artists to carve, for the residents to trade with artists for items, or maybe some residents created great carvings, for themselves or to trade.
I had read enough about Okinawan history to know that Japanese invaders came from the north numerous times. This was the barely populated north end of Okinawa. Evil raiders from various foreign lands plied the coastline, seeking the tiniest, weakest, vulnerable populations to exploit. I knew that the houses were strategically placed back in where it takes serious effort to travel into, and that the rises in stream bank elevations, with thick woods slopping up hills on both sides of the stream, make for exceptional upstream defense capabilities. I pondered whether the rock pile was a mass grave from Japanese invaders, or a cache of their supplies for a return trip. Or captured treasures, to be retrieved later.
Also, ancient Okinawan factions had many wars with each other, and their soldiers may have gone anywhere to seek and fight or escape enemies. There were roving bandits and other mean rogues about, all looking for victims and some seeking hideouts. Those deadly peoples' actions added to why the houses were built back in up there, either for peaceful civilians' or defeated fighters' protection. The pile of rocks might be from those times. Somethings or some people were buried there.
The people who constructed and lived in the stone huts may have been banished from one of Okinawa's kingdoms. Royalty who messed with more powerful royalty, an architect who designed lousy structures, incompetent engineers, failed military men. Poor peasants who attempted to attain better lives. Jesters, musicians, artists, astrologers, soothsayers, anyone who's works offended their royal benefactors could have been banished.
It may have been seasonal residences, a place to stay for hunting & gathering, or an occasional getaway from the heavily populated southern part of the island. A place to take in the rejuvenating effects of nature at its wildest. A place of rest and meditation. Someplace where a person can think clearly without the noises and pressures of densely habitated castle life constantly entering the mind.
The shallow, meager stream water was only covering a thin path in the wider, well washed, packed down sand of the stream bed. I knew that the water flow increased - significantly - at least during Okinawa's May to Mid June Rainy Seasons. It must flood during heavy typhoons. The huts were right at the edge of the - wash cleared & flattened - water coarse, where highest level waters can enter the doorways. But, the highest levels during rainy season may have only reached right there in front of the doorways. High flooding might have only occurred rarely.
We GIs were halfway around the world from back home and right where we wanted to be - in a Far East adventure. That night, we witnessed the wonderful beauty of the Milky Way for our first times. Clear atmosphere, no electric lighting for many miles, I learned that the Milky Way is a band of bright, dense starlight that looks like a silver sparkled river of pure, white milk.
Darn me. I did not have my camera. I didn't realize photos of our little trip to a beach would be of value in the future. I wish I had gone back there to the north end with my camera later. I thought about it, I wanted to, but never have.
We never told anyone about our archaeological discoveries, and I can't believe we never asked any Okinawan university history departments if they had archaeologists who'd love to work that site. Finally, about a decade ago, I contacted Okinawan universities' history departments, I contacted some Okinawan newspapers, but never received any emails back and when I called on the phone never got a hold of anyone who could speak English well enough.
The area now has houses next to the beach and in other places not occupied in '71. Maybe someone who lives there or someone who went exploring up the stream since '71 has told the proper people about it. Someone may have torn the pile of rocks apart, but I doubt it, because Okinawans respect the dead and that pile of rocks is either a mass grave or a cache of some sort. Supplies or weapons from WW2? From centuries ago? Soldiers buried with ancient armor on. I gotta know.
I need to know what the status of that archaeological discovery is today. I love the Okinawan people, and want them to have the benefits of any historical information learnable from the area. I want anything that fits to be in their museums. For decades, I've felt bad about not telling them back then.
After several intense searches on Google Earth, during the past decade, I finally - freakin' - located the spot where the adventure happened. The images below are the most recent of the area from Google Earth.
The road is a replacement for the original dirt road we drove on, which was - years later - washed out by a storm. There were no buildings near there, in '71, and those few there today have a solid amount of peaceful solitude. The occupants probably don't want other people trekking through there to an archaeological site. A potential tourist attraction. Certain occupants may know about the historic site out in the woods from their backyards, but don't tell anyone about it.
I clearly recall the tall rock at the right and the ones out in the water. I was loving life out snorkeling around the rocks sticking up out of the water. Fantastically colored and shaped fish moving everywhere in schools. Like large, tightly choreographed groups of fancy dancers. We had my friend's car parked near the rock to the right. The car was a $50.00 1953 Oldsmobile, brush painted blue and yellow. Who cares what the goofy, cheap paint job looks like, the worn out old heap runs. The car's owner grabs a hand filling chunk of rock from the base of the giant rock and heaves the rock chunk up in an arch, and it comes down on a side of the car; the owner grinning, saying he wanted to clean the road dust off. He chucks a few more, I do too, another guy joins in, then we all were. Each time we - slightly tensely - hoped we'd miss the windows, and we were amazed that we missed every time and did not break any glass. Pure, dumb ass, fun and relaxation for low income soldiers.
You can see how the land rises into hills, and the stream flows down from them.
See those rocky places, those were elevating all along our route. I knew then, that if I ever make it back, it is best to bring an extension ladder for ease of climbing. With archaeologists, university students, possibly media persons along, maybe local government officials, will require items along for protection from wild boars. Possibly a pistol or rifle, definitely bear spray style large mace canisters.
If the area has been well worked on by archaeologists and historians, I want to know.
If I could afford it, I'd fly over there and check the area out again. I want to go back.
I need to know what the situation is there.
I crave knowledge of what may be of historical significance further inland along the stream.
I'd love to know that it is - or becomes - a significant, archaeological, historical location. It would be fantastic if schools had students studying that history and to write about who may have lived there and what their times in the great, tall, thick, Yanbaru Forest were like. Heck, have public contests for all ages to write fictional, historically based, short stories, maybe write made up letters about hut life - as if the words come from long ago people of the huts in the forest.
It can be a godsend to the right novelist, who will one day present the people of Okinawa with a - wonderfully historically accurate - book about hut dwellers hundreds of years ago in the northern forest. The huts were probably used by various peoples for centuries.
OH! Jumpin' Jiminy!! The ancient artifacts that are scattered about under and on the forest floor. All along the stream and out in the woods beside it, let the pros and student archaeologists find them, for Okinawa.
KUDASAI, SOMEBODY OVER THERE PLEASE HELP ME!!!!!!!!
(as the Japanese writing character on my first gold earring said)
愛 (love),
David Robert Crews
{a.k.a. ursusdave}
ursusdave at yahoo dot com
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