Description
#222 Navy #3247 (Mil. Govt) F.P.O. San Francisco Sun. 13 May 4:45 pm Dearly Beloved, A little while ago when I returned, all relaxed and sunburned and ready for a good night's sleep tonight, from the fishing area where I spent a most salubrious day off. I found waiting for me on my bed four letters, an envelope of clippings and a copy of Far Eastern Survey from you; a long letter from M and F (first in quite awhile); a note from Sam De Mello acknowledging my order for your birthday flowers (he hoped to get the ‘Lilly’ of the Valley for you); and a Christmas card from the Krafts in which they say “Let's Hear from you soon.” 6 pm Roast chicken ‘really good’ and the best ice cream to date complete a day of heretofore unexcelled cuisine. I got up this morning at quarter past four (it was something of a struggle, because I was up a little late last night and the night before), took a shower and dressed le the 30 odd fishermen to [pg 2] the beach in the little cove out of which they operate. They are all Okinawans who have been fishing all their lives - some of them are even muscle-bound, and Chief Hansen (in charge of the 6 enlisted men and all the civilians who work there) said there wasn't one who couldn't swim 6 or 8 miles. They are a cheerful group, too; rather boisterous and given to ribbing each other, or horseplay, are much less reticent than [?aichi] Japanese. After a breakfast of fried eggs (hot off the griddle, which ours up here are frequently not) and bacon (Cooked if not crisp - ours is never either) with the Navy men, I joined Hansen and another man in being paddled in a surf boat over the coral reef to where the fishing scow lay at anchor. The several surf boats, each about 15-18 long, were made since I came here by natives after their accustomed design - [Drawing] And are painted yellow, [pg 3] with large black lettering for ready identification. They are propelled by paddles made rather narrow and strong, since they must also be used as poles over a shallow coral bottom. The scow is a gas or diesel-powered flat-bottomed Navy landing craft with a wooden superstructure - decks, open hatches at either end for dumping fish into, a seawater bait tank in the middle. It skids and bumps over the waves rather than cutting through them and seems to be very seaworthy. Leaving shore at 6 a.m. about as the sun was rising, the three of us and about 20 fishermen (most of them dressed only in a loin cloth) boarded the scow and set out to follow the very rugged shoreline in search of bait. After giving some two miles we reached what must have seemed a likely spot and most of the men dove overboard, spread out to arms’ length distance apart and began swimming in concert (half the time just under the surface and half the time on top) along the shore in the shadow of cliffs. Meanwhile we in [pg 4] the boat moved to a point about 100 or 150 yards from where they began and spread out a 30’ square net on the water alongside and inshore from us. The side of the net away from the approaching swimmers was floated with buoys, that near them was held below the surface near the bottom (in perhaps 10’ of water). As soon as the swimmers reached the near side driving a school of tiny fish (the size of minnows) before them, the net was drawn together and a bucket used to scoop out the bait and transfer it to the bait tank. The first haul was not very satisfactory and we repeated the procedure 2 or 3 times. The last time I dove in and helped hold the net I also borrowed a pair of diving glasses and watched some of the swimmers, their business accomplished, diving to the bottom looking for octopus - a prized delicacy; all those I've seen here are 3’ or less long with a head about the size of a baseball. Some of the men also brought [pg 5] up pretty shells - I'll try to get a few for you when I go down again, as I certainly intend to. I was so excited at the strange beauty of underwater colors, movements and shapes on the bottom that promptly on returning I ordered a pair of the glasses from the native who makes them. The water was a clear turquoise; the bottom jagged coral full of holes and crevices - I saw one of the latter a foot wide and ten feet or more deep. All the colors are vivid; lovely little one-inch fishes of bright turquoise dart here and there. When at last they decided to move on (After an hour's bait fishing) the men were still not satisfied with the catch - they sometimes get 3 or 4 times the amount - but as it turned out we got a fairly large haul of “Katsuo” - bonita, tuna family - later on, between eight and nine hundred pounds. [pg 6] Now we set out to sea in search of the flock of gulls which marks the presence of a school of fish because it follows the same little-fish schools which the big ones are after. Sometimes the men go out as far as 12 miles, but today we had to go only four or five. The men at once became excited, pointing and gesticulating, on sighting a flock of birds, one of them explained to me how things would go from that point on. They went faster than I had expected: within 2 or 3 minutes we had hit the spot, 2 men began chumming by throwing out handfuls of the live bait, and the rest held out their 8’ bamboo poles with the same length of line, or slightly shorter, at a 45° angle from horizontal. The hooks were not baited but were sheathed in artificial minnows. Jets of water from below the men sprayed the nearby water like a shower to create excitement, and the men in each group moved their poles left and right, up and down in [pg 7] unison, except for those who had just caught a fish. I watched from the highest point on the boat while they spent a busy five minutes hauling them in; then it was all over and we had to start the engine and chase after the school again, as we did two or three times until the bait was exhausted. A fairly gamey fish which puts up quite a struggle when taken with a sportman's rod and reel (an Army warrant office was out in another boat fishing [?] for several hours and caught just 6, right in the middle of the school), the bonita were hauled in mechanically on the strong lines and fairly rigid bamboo poles used by the fisherman. They would raise the pole to a vertical position until the fish approached their waists, wrap one around them and very quickly unhook them with the other hand, and without turning give them a backhanded toss into the hatch. [pg 8] The bonita were uniform in size - 5-6#, roughly 18”, plump and sleek and without sharp fins. They were a beautiful sight as they raced through the water to take the bait thrown out, occasionally jumping for it. Inside the boat they thrashed around hard enough to splatter blood (they’re the most red blooded fish I've seen) 10 feet - I got specks of it all over me even in my vantage point - but not for very long. The hatch was flushed with water as soon as each 5 minute frenzy was over. We got back early, about 10:30. I spent the next hour looking at nets, boathouse and various other equipment which I won't take time to describe now, and watching the fleet of surfboats being towed back from another area (close to shore but several miles away) where they had been net fishing for various fish, particularly yotsubari - a wide, flat fish rather like an oversized [pg 9] American Lake sunfish in shape, for which I can't find the translation (unless it's “four-armed net” a derived term referring to the method of catching). They came in with a total of 400#. Then noon chow: canned corn and peas tasting a lot better than usual, fried-in-bacon-grease steaks of the bonita and yotsubari just caught. The latter was recommended to me, but I thought the former particularly delicious. I used the word “steak” advisedly because it really tasted more like filet mignon than it did like fish. The natives use almost everything - various insides are esteemed as delicacies; heads, tails and miscellany go into making a soup that smelled wonderful. The red steaks of the bonita they eat raw with lemon juice and miso for seasoning; several of the Navy men said they had tried and liked it. There isn't the danger of picking up intestinal flora from eating ocean fish raw that there is in [pg 10] so eating lake fish, as the people of Japan and China do. After lunch I lay on the beach and dozed, began what seemed to me a peculiarly appropriate piece of reading, Cannery Row, and went for a swim with my heavy field shoes on (because I’d forgotten to bring tennis shoes, and the coral bottom is dangerous for bare feet). Oddly enough I found that, although awkward, they buoyed up my feet. I came back on the same truck feeling as tho I’d had just enough, was delighted to discover your letters waiting for me, promptly sat down and read them and then before sitting down to answer went out to take a shower and getting the sticking salt off me. Tonight, although pale by comparison with the Americans who work down there and practically ghostly next to the Okinawans (who are darker from exposure than by birth), I am ruddy all [pg 11] over. Have already promised myself to make the trip again, preferably in company this time, and have made a tentative date with Riley Ewing for two weeks from today. I'm eager to answer your letters, darling, and it's only 7:30, but I'm intent on getting a long night's sleep tonight and will be in bed before light. Just one thing before I forget it - One of the chiefs in headquarters office has had himself made some scrumptious big Japanese dolls (with legs, about 20-24” tall) out of satin which he had sent from home (other materials are supplied here). They’re more a lounge or dresser doll than a child's to play with, but I’d love to have one made for Wendy anyhow if the materials are available and not too expensive. Suggest [pg 12] two or three yards of crimson satin, ½-3/4 yd each of bright green and bright blue, perhaps one other color; or double the amounts (Maybe you’d better not; I've been spending too much money on such things!) They’re complete with obis and old-style hairdo, tho the latter's of Raggedy-Anne material. And now to bed. I love you, my darling - You were with me all day today. Warren
