04/14/05

   Johnson was situated in an area known as the Kanto plain some 25 miles NW of Tokyo.  The area is rich in the history of Japanese aviation.  Tokorozawa field, under control of the U.S. Army in 1958 was not only the oldest flying field in Japan but the oldest military base.  It was July 30, 1909 when the 'Temporary Balloon Research Facility' was founded. In 1919, this was terminated and the Japanese established a flying school.  Many of the pilots who were later to see action in the war, including Pearl Harbor, were trained here.  On Mar. 28, 1941 Emperor Hirohito himself visited the base and named it 'Shubudai'or 'Japanese Virtues Studying Hill'. 

   It was the morning of Aug. 16, 1945 when the first Americans arrived in a flight of 6 Navy Grumman F6F fighters. Other units were to soon to follow.  During the war the base had suffered  neglect but was quickly restored to livable condition and over the years, improved into the modern facility many of us remembered when we arrived in the late 50's.  The airfield, originally sod, was replaced  with concrete in 1946 and became the first concrete runway built in Japan.  A marker commerates the event. The base was turned over to the Japanese Air Self Defense Force sometime in the 70's, as it remains today known as Iruma Air Base.

   Johnson was the only active airbase in Japan named for an American military hero. Colonel Johnson's spectacular World War II record is well known. He was a member of the famous 'Fighting 49th' as pilot, squadron commander, deputy, and finally commander. The 49th, the top fighter outfit in the Far East had more confirmed air victories (677) than any other group and Colonel Johnson himself had 24.  At 25, he was the youngest full Colonel in the Air Force and slated for a brilliant career.  He survived the war only to be tragically killed in a crash over Tokyo bay on October 7, 1945.

    Many units were to serve with distinction at Johnson, including the Fifth Air force, the 13th and 8th bomb squadrons, the third bomb wing and we of the lowly.  We who worked in the underground Air Defense Control Center we called 'The Mole Hole'.

   When I arrived in 88 for a visit, so much had changed in thirty years it was difficult to recognize the place. Tokyo had spread out and turned the countryside from the pristine shangrila I remembered, into a maze of streets, traffic and noise.  A few old buildings remained, the headquarters, the movie theater and some of the barracks but in poor condition. I managed a look inside the headquarters building. Much of it was closed  but one room contained war memorabilia including the suicide plane,  what we Americans called the 'Baka bomb', which had been outside as a monument when we were there. The 'Mole Hole' was still there though abandoned a year earlier, the operation having been moved to a building elsewhere on base.  The road we crossed to go to work is now a public thoroughfare that bisects the base.  I wanted to walk down to the old 'hole' but it is a restricted area.

   Outside all had changed. Where were the places of memory.  The yakitori house where I had sat huddled against the cold with old men, their faces red and rough from a life of hard work but with a willing smile, eating delicious bits along with draughts of hot sake.  Then staggering back to the base accompanied by the 'clack clack' of the fire-warners sticks. And there were other places with different kinds of pleasures.  Where were Toshiko and Hiroko and a hundred other Ko's. Where were Jane and Mambo Jo. Where indeed.  I remember them as friends, tragic residue from a war nobody wanted. I turned away so Nobu, my friend would not see the moisture collecting in my eyes, turned toward the south where once some 47 miles distant, Fuji-san, now long obscured by haze, would have been visible.  I was reminded of the poem Admiral Onishi, originator of the 'Kami Kaze' had written:

'In blossom today then scattered,

         life is so like a beautiful flower

How can one expect the fragrance

       to last forever'