Ted’s Letter To Jim

Excerpt from Red Jewel

Ted’s letter to Jim – Part One

He collected his papers and Nigel’s and placed them into a side
pocket inside of his duff el bag. He found the sextant on the chart table
and discovered that it was still in good operating condition. He decided
to take that as well. Nothing else though. The publications and manuals
were of no use to him now. He looked around. Anything else? That was
it. But there was something else. “Yes. A letter,” he thought. A letter that
Ted had written to him and had asked him not to open or to read until
he had reached Saipan.

“Cripes Ted. I almost forgot about that. But where did I put it?” He
rifled through some of the pockets of his shorts that he remembered
wearing in Hawaii. It was not there. “Where damn it, where did I put
it? Oh shit, I almost forgot.” He opened the small panel that contained
books that he and Nigel kept for their own personal use. It was secured
to the port bulkhead just aft of the shitter…or head in mariner’s parlance.
Two books were of note to Jim: Hawaii and Tales of the South Pacifi c.
Th ere, in the jacket of Hawaii, was the letter from Ted. He grabbed it,
sat down on the starboard settee, which had been his berth and began
to read.

Dear Jim

If you are reading this then you made it to Saipan safely.
Congratulations. That is quite the accomplishment. You should be
proud of yourself. Enjoy your stay there. I hope you can get out and
enjoy all that Saipan has to offer you and Nigel, especially after such a
long sail from Honolulu. Good luck with your continued adventures.

“Thanks Ted.” Jim said aloud.

I hope that you have a chance to see this small island nation for what
it truly is. In my mind Saipan is a paradox of our creator.

“I will Ted. Paradox? How?”

On the one hand you will see the island as a tropical paradise or at
least an oasis for the modern times that we live in, not unlike Hawaii,
while on the other hand it was the scene of atrocities and a tragedy
that were committed on a scale that is impossible for me to describe
or to comprehend. I do not mean to say that to undermine the horror
and the atrocities that were committed in Europe during World War
Two. No, but the terror that was the Battle of Saipan, as part of the
America’s war in the Pacific, was more in your face war fighting. It
was up close and personal. Its impact affected every one of us who
were involved in it…differently and personally. It was traumatic in
every sense of the word. It was a shock. It belied our beliefs and sense
of righteousness. It became a nightmarish facet of our existence. The
tragedy that was Saipan was the extent to which the human condition
can fall when evil is allowed to set its course. Even to this day, Jim,
some thirty years on, it galls me and plays on my conscience. I have
nightmares just thinking about it.

“Jeez Ted, what are you getting at here?”

For me Jim, Saipan represents not just a loss of my youthful exuberance
and innocence but also a loss of confidence and faith in the human
condition. Added to all of that, I lost some very good friends there,
one in particular. I almost lost the love of my life too, indirectly. You
see Jim, sadly, tragically, at such a young age, with the loss of my leg,
I became cynical about life itself, human nature and the limitless
capacity of my fellow human beings to inflict untold misery, cruelty
and suffering on one another. My heart became hardened.

“Mother of God Ted, I am so sorry.”

It is probably difficult for you to see this now but Saipan in those days
was a world of military fanaticism, of martial madness and of sheer
dread. At its very core life on Saipan was underscored by an oppressor
who ruled with the mindful and purposeful contempt for all that
was good and sacred in this world of ours. Honor, above all else, was
sacrosanct to them. Arrogance was a welcomed trait. Cruelty was
commonplace. Life was cheap. The military rulers of Saipan could
not understand compliance. Surrender was not in their lexicon. They
had no respect for a defeated or conquered people. Surrendering
without death was cowardice to them and was an anathema to their
code of conduct: their Bushido Code – or Bullshit Code as I called it.
Thus, the citizenry of Saipan, by their mere survival, had no human
rights in the eyes of their conquerors. They lived their lives under a
yoke of military oppression and disgust. They were considered lowlife
and dogs by their military masters. Yet unquestionable loyalty to a
foreign deity was demanded of them. Allegiance and devotion were
expected to this foreign icon that was not of the spiritual form in the
traditional supernatural sense but of a human physical stature and
nature…in other words, their Emperor was considered a living gawd.

“Unbelievable Ted. I never knew this.”

The military presence that ruled Saipan in those days ruled by fear.
They were fanatical in their beliefs and demanded the same from the
Chamorro people and the Korean slave labor. To do otherwise meant
untold suffering or certain death. Not surprisingly Jim, over time, the
oppressed people of Saipan adapted and became dependent upon the
military dictatorship for their subsistence, for their security, for their
survival. Ultimately, they were brainwashed. They were brainwashed
into thinking that their military masters had their best interests at
heart. But they were also brainwashed against the very people who
were committed to their liberation and freedom. Us! Consequently Jim,
it was very difficult for us as liberators to undermine their mistrust of
us and of everything that America stood for.

Sitting with you, drinking Oly’s and chit chatting on those
numerous afternoons at the Ala Wai, was very enjoyable for me Jim
and I do not begrudge those moments for a minute.

Jim smiled at that memory.

I thank you for giving me the time of day. In a lot of respects, I saw
myself in you. I was jealous of your youth but for my lost youth. Your
exuberance, your wonderful naivety and your boundless energy took
me back to a time where my own innocence and sense of invincibility
fostered. I possessed some sensitivity in those days Jim and a
vulnerability that many would perceive as a weakness, especially as a
Marine. I didn’t look at it that way. I viewed these traits as strength
for I saw the beauty in all living things and had empathy in spades to
do what I thought was right. I possessed faith in a higher power. I had
faith in God. I guess I was a sensitive soul.



Read about the Battle of Saipan in my book Kurofune, or Jim’s adventure in Red Jewel. For more information on these and other books see the links at the top of the page. They are all available through Amazon.com or Amazon.ca

                                      www.johnmorrisonauthor.com

 

 

Red Jewel: The Dart

 

Red Jewel

 

An excerpt from “Red Jewel.” It is available on Amazon.com or Amazon.ca.

Classic sailing yacht

 

“Ruth and I grew closer and closer as the months turned into years. Often times we would go out on the Dart in “Lilly” and explore the area stopping from time to time on a bank of cool grass upriver a way. We talked…erm…she talked of many things.  She was a young woman now. Gone were the boyish locks. Her hair now fell to her shoulders, fashionably coifed with natural curls that were interspersed and intertwined within wave upon wave of strawberry blond tresses that were particularly radiant in the afterglow of a late afternoon sun. Her complexion was flawless and was all the more exotic and welcoming by just a hint of makeup. She was naturally beautiful. Well proportioned, athletic, strong. Her breasts were mature and full, not large, just perfect for her physical size.  She had her mother’s eyes I was told. Hazel green for the most part with the slightest touch of grey and an intimation of violet if the sunlight graced her features just so. You could almost detect the coloured hint of violet in a surprise reflective measure of sunlight only to lose sight of it on closer inspection.

“Whaaaat” she would say, teasingly, as my gaze burrowed into her eyes.

“Your eyes Ruth.” I thought they to be green, hazel perhaps, but just then I could detect some violet. Violet, for heaven’s sake?”

“My eyes are green Nigel Filtness.” she laughed as if she needed to scold me, turn me straight. “Maybe a tad hazel but green predominantly.”

Predominantly…predominantly? She had a better way with words than I will ever have. Her diction and enunciation were precise, flawless really, unlike the guttural slang that came out of my mouth. I was intimidated by her yet she never belittled me.

“I like you Nigel Filtness.” she would announce, as if she was my queen and I her peon…jester. “King….Nigel”, never the Queen. I may be female but I would be KING of all of England, and Wales, maybe Scotland, Ireland perhaps. No, no never Scotland as I can never understand the brogue there.” She giggled. “But Ireland? Ah, the land of song, poetry, romance and tragedy. Oh forlorn and suffering, tragic Ireland be: the Emerald Isle.

“Ireland?” I would ask of her as I lay on my back, my eyes closed, the sun high in the sky but on with its western slide.

“Yes Ireland Nigel” she sat there, smiling, as if pleased with her own insight, sitting as she was with her legs flat out across the grass in front of her with her arms back and to her sides holding her up. “Yes Ireland Nigel, the land of Yeats, of Shaw, of Oscar Wilde…”

“Oh the “poofter” I interjected.

Not saying a word she looked down at me with a scorn that could mortally wound.

“Of Oscar Wilde, Joyce, Michael Collins…” she paused and sighed a long passionate sounding sigh…of the revolutionaries, 1916 Ireland with Padraigh Pearse…”

“Who?” I countered.

“Padraigh Pearse Nigel. Padraigh was an Irish romantic: a poet, scholar, barrister, revolutionary of the 1916 Irish Rebellion. He was a tragic figure – a naive Irish ideologue hero. He was executed as one of the Irish rebels of the Easter Riots.”

“Oh, you don’t say” was about all I could say. I felt extremely low intellectually whenever I was with Ruth.

Nevertheless Ruth and I became inseparable. “Lilly” and “Lillian” were our common thread; our common bond; and our common love for sailing. Soon, the intricacies of Lillian’s unique gaff rig configuration became second nature to both of us. We knew “Lillian’s” quirks like the backs of our palms. It was not long before Mr Sommers had full confidence in both of us. And before long it was not an unusual sight for the Dartmouth and Kingswear sailing community to recognize us both for what we were: respected local seafarers. “Lillian,” and us, became synonymous with the regulars of the sailing community, particularly those members of the Royal Dartmouth Yacht Club, of which Mr Sommers was a lifetime member, as an icon of the Dart maritime environment. Even the Royal Naval College took note of us, particularly Petty Officer Brand.”

It was fun researching and writing this book. Sailors and non sailors alike will enjoy this story.

Quote of the week!

What happens when banks lose your money?

They charge you a finder’s fee of course.

Shakeyjay is out.

Red Jewel

An excerpt from my latest book: “Red Jewel”

Ruth was excited and beside herself as she ran up the shallow slope to Castle Road. Looking east and then south she became enamored by the sight of a long dark tree tunnel that was formed by a canopy of leaves and deciduous bushes and hedges that lined both sides of the road, as if they were, according to Ruth, ancient guardians and sentinels of the medieval castle itself. A broad imagination Ruth had.

“Oh daddy, daddy, look, look at this.” she said, excitedly. “A wondrous tree tunnel that goes on and on forever and ever. To our magical castle estate. Oh King Sommers.” lowering her voice. “Come your highness, King of Wessex itself. And I am Queen Matilda, or Empress Maud, a woman who would be King of all of England.”

“Yes you are my darling Ruth.” Mr Sommers said, laughingly, looking at me with a high browed grin.

“But who am I your highness?” I mocked at her.

“Oh…oh” she paused, unsure of herself for the moment. “Well never mind you…you…you are just my servant boy, my peon from East Meon. You shall do as I say…as I order you or you shall curse the day that you were born. To the chopping block and off with your head if you refuse my bidding” She laughed then giggled and then ran down the shadowing laneway, happy and excited, exuberant. I followed suit while Mr Sommers walked slowly behind us, enjoying and savoring this moment with his daughter.

You could see the shadows dissipate as the tree tunnel ended with a burst of brightness of the mid afternoon sun. There we were, at the entranceway to the castle, in the gathering area just outside of the main gateway…or drawbridge as Ruth would refer. We were the only ones there. She ran ahead as we followed her into a narrow passageway that was lined with ancient stone walls, ramparts and buttresses. It was almost 600 years old and along with a castle on the Kingswear side Dartmouth Castle protected the entrance to the Dart estuary from French invasion. It held an array of cannon in its tower as well as a mechanism to use a cable that was employed in conjunction with Kingswear on the opposite bank to halt the ingress of enemy shipping.

The castle was imbued with many passageways and lookouts that were focused on the entrance to the Dart and approaches to the estuary from the channel beyond. There were gunrooms and powder-rooms, storerooms, quarters, cooking houses and various laneways. Many of the rooms were connected by narrow, dark passageways with low hanging stone ceilings. It was very cool, almost cold in these dark and damp rooms that were only lit by the natural light that came in from the outside through cracks and doorway openings. In one spot Ruth became frightened and held on to my arm. As her anxiety lessoned with my presence beside her she moved her arm down until she could feel the warmth of my hands. There, she entwined her fingers through mine. We were holding hands. I felt a slight tinge and weird sensation through my entire upper being. It felt strange but wonderful.

We held hands and felt our way back up a flight of stone steps and then out and into a small open square that was surrounded on all sides by old stone walls. They were only about four feet high except on the southern side where the wall formed part of the gun tower. We walked over to the east side of the square where we could look out at the expanse of the English Channel. It was so bright and clear that you could almost see across to France or Guernsey. We looked around and back up where we could see Mr Sommers above us on a stone rampart. We waved.

“Let’s eat.” He yelled down at us. “Meet me outside the gate.”

Ruth and I left the square to make our way back up through the various rooms and passageways to the outlying path that led to the entranceway to the castle. On our way, Ruth abruptly stopped and turned toward me then gave me a peck on my cheek, and then another. She smiled at me and said. “You may be a poor peon from East Meon Nigel but you are my peon and I like you very much. You may be my knight Mr Filtness. Rise Sir Nigel.” as she tapped me on my shoulder. And with that she ran off ahead of me giggling and excitable like the young schoolgirl that she was to meet with up with her father.

We spent the next hour or so having a picnic of mutton chops, some salad, chips butty, tea sandwiches and some tea. I could not remember how that went or if the food was good for my mind was racing with that short memory and sweet innocent embrace from Ruth. I may have only been thirteen years old but it did not feel as yucky to me in the least. I was smitten.

As we sat down to our late lunch on a grassy embankment close to the outer western wall of the castle, Mr Sommers told us about the history of the place and the role it played during the many wars with France including our most recent past of World Wars I and II against Germany. It was a fascinating account of adventure, bravery, fools, pirates, kings and queens, smugglers and rogues. He also touched on the varied history of Dartmouth and Kingswear as well as the advent of the Royal Naval College and Britannia. Ruth would look at me from time to time during this discourse to steal a glance and to share a smile. I was beginning to see Ruth in a different light. It was wonderful to know her and Mr Sommers. Indeed it was wonderful to be alive I thought if even for a short respite on this perfect, sunny August afternoon in Dartmouth. For soon reality will bite me squarely in the ass as I make my way home. I tried not to think about it.

We sailed back hardly saying a word. We were exhausted. The wind had come up somewhat but ours was a run before the wind, so it felt as if it was a nice comfortable leisurely sail. A few times Mr. Sommers had to grasp the tiller firmly in this wind and following sea so as not to lose control. Nevertheless the strength of the wind never became apparent to me until we altered directly into it as we came to the mooring buoy on the Kingswear side. It was brisk. Finally, safe and secured to our buoy, Mr Sommers guided the punt to take us ashore one by one. Saying goodbye to Ruth and thanking Mr Sommers for everything I made my way home.

Check out my books via the links at the top of the page. Support a struggling Canadian author. They would make great Christmas gifts. Thanks.

Forget Covid, Climate Change, BLM, Antifa. Woke-ism.

Relax. Go for a long walk. Consider doing a Camino. I have done two now.

Badfinger classic. Sad story surrounding this group. Two guys on the left committed suicide. The group was ripped off by American music suits. Almost penniless.

Red Jewel: Notes

Red Jewel Notes

Red Jewel is my fourth book. I should have the draft ready for editing by Christmas.

Red Jewel is a work of fiction that is based on true events. Any relationship to individuals, who are alive today except for those mentioned below, is coincidental.

Saipan is a vibrant island of the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana chain. It is the hub and government centre for the US protectorate. Its population as of 2017 was 47,565.  Saipan’s economy has had many highs and lows over the years since the war. Today, its economic base is tourism. Five casinos operate on the island. In spite of its size and limited available land, Saipan also has a number of golf courses. It also has a picturesque grotto, numerous caves and a beautiful and expansive lagoon off of its western shore. Managaha Island, which is located at the entrance of the Tanapag Harbour’s navigational channel, is also a favoured destination for tourists. Scuba diving is also popular.

Lao Lao Bay, on Saipan’s east coast was also known as Magicienne Bay during the war.

Saipan Is The Most Beautiful Place In America You've Never ...

Japan’s Imperial Force’s Admiral Nagumo was the Co Commander of the island of Saipan at the time of the invasion, June 1944. He is of particular note as having been in command of the Japanese forces in their attack on Pearl Harbour, December 7, 1941. Ironically, many of the Battleships attacked at Pearl Harbour were repaired and overhauled at the Bremerton Naval Yard and redeployed and formed part of the shore bombardment of Saipan against Nagumo’s forces during the Battle of Saipan. He committed ritual suicide, Sepuku, or  “Hari Kari” along with his Co Commander Lieutenant General Saito and staff during the last days of the battle.

A number of memorials and dedication areas can be found on the island, most notably at the Marpi and Banzai suicide sites on the north side of Saipan. The World War Two Saipan memorial is prominent outside of Garapan, near Tanapag Harbour, for its dedication and remembrance of the sacrifice made by the men of the 2nd and 4th Divisions of the Marines as well as the Army’s 27th Division. 25,000 marines and soldiers and Chamorro civilians died during the Saipan, Tinian and Guam campaign from June – August 1944. Many of the Chamorro and Japanese soldiers and civilians committed suicide by jumping off the Marpi and Banzai cliffs. The exact numbers are not known. Some estimates say as many as 8,000 people died. Others say about 1,000.

Ted Culp is the name of a character from my first novel Kurofune: The Black Ships. The character is based on an individual who hailed from Bremerton Washington and took part in World War Two in the US Navy. He passed in May 2011.

The events noted during the sail on Red Jewel from Honolulu to Saipan are fictional but are based on real events.

Saipan Vacations 2017: Package & Save up to $603 | Expedia

The sailing yacht Drummer was real. She was presumed lost at sea enroute from Hawaii to Alaska. The grounding incident at the Ala Wai did occur.

Clyde and Les are real life characters. Their adventures as told here were real. The couple from Omaha was also real.

See the source image

Nigel’s early life, his acquaintances and his adventures on the Dart, the Mediterranean, and Granada, The United States and Vancouver / Vancouver Island area are fictional.

Dartmouth, river Dart, Devon, England #19937927 Framed Photos

Check out my other books by clicking on the links at the top of the page. They would make great Christmas gifts.

 

Fait winds and a following sea.

 

SJ…Out