2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours (Part 2)

Posted on 01/31/2015

July 1992, Okinawa, Japan

As I came to, I was in a Japanese jail.  "What the hell is going on?", I asked the Japanese Prison Guard.  No answer.  A couple of hours passed and my Staff Sergeant, along with another Marine Corps representative arrived and bailed us out of jail.  

Sometime in late 1993, Yokosuka, Japan

Getting bailed out seems like decades ago, I think as I am sitting here in Solitary Confinement for the 4th time.  This time, I got 60 glorious days for beating the shit out of Punk ass.  I finally caught him by himself and whooped his ass for what seemed like a good 30 seconds before his goons showed up.  I hate Punk ass the most out of all of the Japanese Prison Guards. You see, whereas Hitler, Stalin and the rest of the guards were ruthless, they were indiscriminate in passing out the ass whippings.  EVERYONE got a beating from them.  And I mean EVERYONE had a turn, unless you were willing to give sexual favors to them.  Punk ass, on the other hand, only fucked with me.  So, imagine how happy I was to finally get him alone and beat the crap out of him!  He had it coming this time, for real!  The night before, Punk ass ejaculated into my food after masturbating.  Or at least, that's what he told me the prior evening after picking up my meal tray.  I can still remember the smile on his face when he told me what he had done.  I think I vomited for what seems like hours.  Whether he did or didn't, I was determined that when the opportunity presented itself, I was gonna beat the living shit out of him.  "YOU PUNK ASS MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!  Who is laughing now?", I recall saying while I punched him in his face.  I stomped and kicked him as he hit the ground.  I heard the guards running in to save him.  Damn!  Why didn't I grab his radio first?  It has his body alarm on it!  That's all I could think as I listened to the sound of their footsteps.  That and hit him harder and faster.  In my eagerness to get my revenge on Punk Ass, I didn't think to grab his radio first, so he couldn't activate his body alarm.  Ok, they got me.  Now my beating will begin.  God what has happened to me?  I have turned into the animal that I so despise.  These are my thoughts as I sit in Solitary Confinement.  God, I am turning into a monster and I need your help.  This is my prayer, as the tears begin to pour down my face.  If you let me make it out of here alive, I promise I will dedicate my life to helping others.  I will serve you and do your will in whatever capacity that may be.  If you...  Redditt San!  I hear the Japanese guard call my name. It's funny how they always call you Mr., like they have respect for you or something.  It's shower time the guard informed me with a slight grin on his face.  I know that look.  Something is up.  As I get to the shower, Hitler and Stalin, along with two other guards, were waiting for me.  I didn't even let out a scream, as Hitler hit me with the electric baton.  They all begin to beat the crap out of me.  Revenge for whooping Punk ass.  I must have whooped him good, judging by the way they are whooping my ass.  Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Punk ass in a while.  "Baka Kokujin", I hear them all say which means (stupid black) or (stupid nigger) in Japanese.  As they continue to kick, stomp and hit me with the electric baton, I hear Hitler tell the other guards, "No face shots, the Gaijin (foreigners) will be here next week.".  Under the Sofa Status Agreement that America has with Japan, the Marine Corps is allowed to come and visit any Marine that is locked up in a Japanese prison or jail one time per month.  The Japanese guards always knew when they were coming, so usually a week prior to them coming, the beating would stop.  So, usually you were safe for at least one week out of the month.  Oh how I live for the last week in the month!  The Marine Corps always came on the first of the month.  We always beg them to come unannounced so they can see what really goes on.   But, we are always met with the same answer, "The Japanese dictate the day that we can come.".  Great for me.  

July, 1992 Okinawa, Japan

I had no idea what was waiting for me down the line when my Staff Sergeant and the Marine Corps Representative picked us up from the Okinawa jail.  "What the hell happened?", I remember my Staff Sergeant asking us.  We all repeated the same story.  "We just ran, Staff Sergeant!"  My Staff Sergeant began telling us that the Japanese Authorities believe that we are part of a ring of foreigners whom have been robbing Japanese citizens around town.  "I know you are guilty!", the Japanese investigators scream at me.  "You Gaijin come to our country and rob our hard working citizens.  You will pay!  Mark my words, you will pay!"  "Sir, there is a serious misunderstanding.", I begin to say to the investigator.  "My friends and I are not the people that have been robbing people in town.  We simply took a (honcho) cab back to base.  We just saw our buddy starting to run, so we ran too.  So yes, I guess we are guilty of running, but that's it.  You can put me in a line up, since you say you have witnesses and they will clear us of any wrong doing.  We didn't fucking do this shit!"  "Calm down.", I hear my Staff Sergeant say.  We head home for the day and for the next 2 weeks we went back for questioning.  The investigator finally believed our story.  Thank God we can finally put this mess behind us and go on with our lives.  At least, that's what we thought.  Nothing or no one could have prepared me for what happened to us just 5 days after leaving that police station for what we thought was our last time.  To be continued.....

Copyright January 2015 by Sheldon Redditt 

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours, My Journey To Death And Back(Part 1)

Posted on 01/20/2015

2 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 26 DAYS and 11 HOURS.  That was the amount of time that I spent in a Japanese prison.  Wow, I finally got it out after 24 years, I finally got it out.  This is my journey to death and back.  I hope that this story will inspire you to never give up.  No matter what, to NEVER GIVE UP.  I have waited 24 years to tell my story.  No longer ashamed.  No longer ashamed. 

Okinawa, Japan, the Year was 1993 

I hear the whistling.  I hear the sound of the electric baton.  God, please not me again tonight.  Last night was too much.  I can still taste and smell Hitler's urine as he and Stalin along with Punk ass stuck my head in the toilet.  After fighting with the three of them for what seem like hours they finally got the best of me.  As Stalin and Punk ass were holding me, Hitler thought it was a good idea to piss in the toilet and soak my face in it.  Ok, let's get this over with already.  Two hours later and Punk ass is still whistling.  It's a mental game at this point.  They like to see you suffer mentally first before the physical abuse starts.  I got a little surprise for their asses if it is me again tonight.  I have poured water mixed with my urine all over the floor so if and when they do come in to get me, I will have the jump on them.  Sure, eventually they will over power me and beat the living shit out of me but I will get some good punches in and enjoy the brief satisfaction of knowing that they got a taste of their own medicine.  Shit!  Showtime, it's me again tonight.  I jump out of bed as soon as I hear the key go into the lock.  As Stalin comes running in first, he slips along with the other two and I begin my attack.  I hit Stalin with a good right left combination.  Lights out.  I don't remember what happened next.  I do remember waking up with....  WAIT!  Let me back up for a second. 

Hitler, Stalin and Punk Ass were the nicknames that we gave to the Japanese Prison Guards. You see, for 2 years, 3 months, 26 days and 11 hours, I was held in a Japanese Prison.  Yes, I said Japanese prison.  FOR WHAT IS THE QUESTION RIGHT?  I will get to that later.  Back to my story, so as I come to, Hitler and Punk ass were holding me while Stalin punched, kicked and hit me with the electric baton.  Afterward, he thought it was a pretty good idea to piss and spit on me for giving him a brief taste of his own medicine.  As I lay here going in and out of consciousness, I asked God, "How did I get here?".  Better yet, "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?".  I don't know how long I laid on that floor bleeding and smelling like piss, but I eventually mustered up enough energy to get up and wash myself up as best I could.  Damn!  I just remembered I had a shower today, so it will be another 2 days before I will get another one.  We were only allowed 3 showers a week.  So, as I was washing up Punk ass comes down and tells me I will be going back to solitary confinement for assaulting him and his two goons.  Great.  Another 30 days in the hole that won't count.  Let me tell you how the Japanese prison system works.  Their prison system is STRICTLY for punishment.  It is not for rehabilitation.  They have one of the lowest crime rates in the World for a reason because prison is HARD LABOR.  They don't have repeat offenders.  So with me receiving another 30 days in the hole, that means that my time stops.  The time you spend in the hole or solitary confinement doesn't count toward your sentence.  I was given a 1 year and 9 month sentence.  But, by this being my 3rd, 30 day sentence in solitary confinement, that 1 year, 9 months has now turned into 2 years.  Solitary Confinement is where the real games begin.  Your day begins with them awaking you at 4am promptly simply to sit in the middle of the floor upright Indian style facing a wall for 12 hours.  There is no furniture just a mat.  You only get 2 bathroom breaks a day, two showers a week and two great meals of fish heads and white rice a day. And if you are lucky a buttered roll.  Or, if you are unlucky you will get soup and white rice mixed with their special sauce of urine. Needless to say there were many days that I didn't eat.  When I went in I weighed 275 pounds.  I came out weighing 155 pounds.  I had a 6 pack though!  

Ok, let's start from the beginning.  I, along with a couple of my Marine Corps buddies were heading back to base from a night club in Okinawa, Japan.  We took a honcho (taxi cab) back to base.  My buddy in the front was in charge of paying the cab driver, as we all had to chip in and we each gave him the money to do so.  My other buddies and I went across the street to our favorite restaurant to order food before we walked up the hill back to base.  I could overhear my buddy and the cab driver beginning to argue about something, so I looked over to see my buddy beginning to run up the hill.  Instinctively, my buddies and I began to run up the hill as well.  "Dude, why are you running?", we began to ask, as we kept running up the hill.  As we got to the top of the hill the honcho had already called the police and told them, that he was just robbed.  The Japanese Police, whom guard the gates at night, immediately stopped us as we got to the top of the hill.  The cab driver, along with several other Japanese Police arrived at the top of the hill.  My buddy began to explain to the police what happened.  He began to explain to them that the cab driver tried to cheat him out of his money.  He stated that it cost about a 1000 yen for the cab, which is about 10 American dollars for the cab fare.  After paying with a 20 dollar bill, the cab driver only gave him $1 back, thus cheating him out of roughly $9.  My buddy got so upset that the cab driver tried to cheat him, that he snatched his money back, along with the cab drivers' money and began to run up the hill toward base.  As he explained to the police what happened, the honcho said, "No!  He took my money too on purpose!"  The Japanese Police said that they were going to take all four of us down to the station for questioning.  I said, "No, the honcho already told you that we didn't do anything but run and that we gave our friend our money to pay him.".  Also, we knew that under the Sofa Status Agreement that the Japanese authorities could hold us for up to 28 days without notifying the American authorities that they have us.  It was thoroughly explained to us as we moved through orientation, that you should never go with the Japanese authorities and that you should always follow protocol and wait for the American authorities or representatives to show up.  I told the police that they had to call the American authorities and that I would not just go with them.  That's when one of the officers attempted to grab me and I pushed his hand away.  He attempted to grab me again and according to the Japanese Police, I swung at him.  But, the next thing I knew I was waking up in the Japanese Jail after being hit in the back of the head with a baton.

To be continued.....

Copyright January 2015 Sheldon Redditt

I Refuse To Go To The Grave Without Telling My Story

Posted on 01/19/2015

I want to thank Angelo Parker for helping me find the courage to tell the world why and for providing me with the missing pieces to my story.

“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” ~ Mark Twain

That is my absolute favorite quote of all time.  The purpose of life for every living being is to discover the reason for their existence.  We are all small in the grand scheme of things, but our presence could leave such a large impact that we are impossible to forget.  What better day to recognize this, than on Martin Luther King Day?  He walked the Earth for but 39 years, but his presence will live on forever.  I'm not saying that each of us will have an impact of that magnitude, but we can each, most definitely leave our mark on this world.

 I am so thankful that I discovered, WHY I AM HERE.  About 2 years ago, I began hearing the whisperings of the Universe.  I heard what has been repeated to me my whole life, starting with the voice of my mother.  She always told me that my way of speaking to others would someday allow me to touch the lives of a multitude of people.  Over the years, I have been told countless times that I have a gift for talking to people, whether it is counseling people, speaking to troubled youth or just talking to my friends and family.  Over the past 2 years, I have come to accept what so many have told me, but I didn't feel that I could be effective without sharing my whole truth.  My biggest fear has been that I would pass on or go to the grave without sharing my full story. 

Three weeks ago, I received a call from one of my old Marine Corp buddies, Angelo Parker.  I hadn't spoken to him in 24 years. Unbeknownst to me, for 24 years, Parker thought I was dead.  YES DEAD!  You see, he, along with the rest of my Marine Corp buddies, were told that the last night they saw me, would in fact be the last time they would ever see me alive.  They were told that undoubtedly, I would be dead in 6 months.  So, imagine his surprise when he found out I was still alive.  That first phone call with him was undeniably, the most emotional conversation I have ever had.  It's indescribable to hear and fully understand that I was supposed to be dead at 19 years old, but then realize that 24 years later I am still here and thriving.  It is truly a blessing.  I knew that The Marine Corps had sent a Staff Sergeant to my mother's house to let her know that her son would be dead in 6 months.  I remember that they tried to prepare me as best as they could, that I wouldn't survive longer than 6 months.  However, when Parker informed me that not only had they planned my funeral, but he had a role to play in it as well, I was floored.  Parker explained that when he arrived to his new command states side, his commander informed him that when I passed, he would be flown back to Japan to be a part of the security detail to escort my body back to America.  The 3 weeks since our conversation has been very turbulent emotionally for me.  I have gone back and forth about telling my story.  I have prayed and meditated about it, but most importantly, I spoke with my wife about it and we both agree that it is time for me to tell my story.  My journey in those 24 years has been nothing short of amazing.  I think I have lived my life, like I would die tomorrow.  I have most definitely lived.  No longer am I ashamed.  I am free.  So tomorrow I will joyously release, "2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours, My Journey To Death And Back, Part 1".  I started writing a book because I couldn't put all of this information into a blog series.  This will be my most honest truth.  I refuse to go to the grave without telling my story. This is my truth.  What's yours? 

Making Your Dash COUNT

 Posted by ~ Sheldon Redditt on 01/06/2015

Dedicated to all those that HAVE made their dash COUNT

All of us are going to die or as I believe pass on to the next level of existence. I don't believe in death as an end all.  I believe that we simply pass on to another level of existence. I don't believe that God would create us to live for 70 or 80 years and that's it, but that's another post altogether.  When you pass on, marked on your tombstone, will be your birth date, a DASH and the date you left this world.  The most important thing on that tombstone is that DASH.  Now, the dash is the smallest thing on the tomb stone, but it is, by far, the most important.  You see, that DASH, tells your story; everything you were, everything you accomplished and all you meant to the world and the people in it.  It tells us what kind of person you were.  If you were a great spouse, a great father, mother or friend, it's written in that dash.  That DASH tells all about you.  I know and believe that we were all put here to make a impact on this Earth.  Albeit, some impacts will be greater than others but that is our purpose, to make that dash count.  When you pass on, what do you want your DASH to say about you?  When I pass on, I want my DASH to say that I was a great Husband and Father.  Did I make mistakes?  Of course I did, but when I leave I want to know that I finally got it right.  It's important to me that I was a great friend.  It's important to me that I tried to make a difference, NO, that I did make a difference in the lives of the less fortunate.  For me, "trying", is just a noble way of saying, "I failed".  I want to make so much of an impact while I'm here that when I do pass on, a big smile brightens someone's face, every time my name is mentioned. 

As I sit here writing, I received news that a former co-worker just passed on from a freak accident at work.  He was 25 years young, with a wife and a new born baby girl.  My wife and I are so saddened by this news.  I was telling my wife that this young man MADE HIS DASH COUNT!  He was doing the work that he loved to do.  He was making a difference in this world.  You see, what it made me realize, is this... It does not matter how long or short of a time you are here, it's what you do with your time on this Earth. In the 25 years he was on this Earth, he made more of an impact with the kids that he helped than some people do that have lived 100 years.  He had a wife that he adored and together they brought a beautiful little girl into this world.  He touched so many of his co-workers lives in so many ways.  And I'm sure that there a plethora of others lives, that I could never know the way he impacted them, but I have no doubt, he did.  But most of all, his dash counted because he was happy and he was living a life that he loved.

What are you doing to make your dash count?  Are you living or are you existing?  There is a big difference in the two.  To exist is to quote an old Jackson Browne song, "The Pretender".  "I've been aware of the time going by.  They say in the end it's the wink of an eye.  And when the morning light comes streaming in.  You'll get up and do it again.... I'm going to be a happy idiot.  And struggle for the legal tender."  To live, is to wake up each new day with a purpose; to do your purpose, what you are meant to do in this moment in time, with enthusiasm and happiness.  Living is surrounding yourself, with love and friendship, family and friends.  

I am so grateful that I have found my purpose.  I know why I am here.  I'm here to help people; to be of service.  There are many avenues that I have taken to do this and many more out there to explore.  I think motivational speaking is the next on my list of endeavors.  With each new endeavor, I find myself full of excitement, joy and filled with a new thought driven purpose.  Living at its finest!  I am determined to make my dash count.  That for me includes telling the real Sheldon Redditt story and it will blow you away.  I hope that each of you will begin to think about your dash and what you can do to set the world on fire.  I heard that the richest place on Earth is the local cemetery.  Rich with thoughts and ideas that were never shared or executed.  Please, don't add to that richness.  Make the world rich, above ground!  This is my truth!  What's yours?