The first year in Tokyo I was the same as any other G.I., just having a good time. The second year we closed shop in Tokyo, and moved our squadron to Fuchu Air Station, which was about thirty miles north of Tokyo.  Then I started riding the train from Fuchu to Tokyo.

One night when I was eating at the Fuji-Ice restaurant, I noticed two Japanese girls in one of the booths looking at me.  So I smiled, and the smile was returned. In a minute or so the girl with her back to me changed seats with her friend.  When I saw her I realized that she was the most beautiful young lady I had ever seen. The two of them got up to leave and I quickly finished my hambaga and paid my check. I caught up with them outside and started speaking Japanese.  They immediately told me I didn't have to speak Japanese; they understood and spoke English perfectly, having gone to Tokyo University and Keio University.  One of the girls name was Kikuko, and the one I was interested in was Hitomi.

I made a date to see Hitomi the following week.  We went see the movie "Sayonara".   We sat in the balcony, and I clearly recall that when I try to kiss Hitomi, I got my face slapped.  I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl under the seats.  She told me her father had made ammunition and weaponry for the Japanese military during the war, and he had a strong resentment toward Americans.  He had since started to manufacture typewriters and owned the second largest company in Japan.  

We fell in love, and for a whole year I was the happiest man on earth with Hitomi.  Of course, the world was so different then and we could not be together the rest of our lives.  If I could go back in time and rewrite the course of events in my life, I would be married to Hitomi today.

Ours was a typical "GI meets a rich girl" story.  She was not only rich; she was totally unspoiled and chaste.  This is in total contrast to the Japanese girls of today who look and behave like crazy.  Everything that we did was like a haiku written every single time and despite almost five decades having passed; I often recount the images as if it happened yesterday and dream of a reunion.  I still have pictures of her. I could not bear the pain of being separated from Hitomi that after almost two decades, recently I called Kikuko.  An old woman like me, she told me she is doing fine, but has not heard from Hitomi in years.  I fear the worst.  

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African American GI in Japan