Saturday, January 31, 2015

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 

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