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I had no idea that such music would be so popular in a city with a culture so
different from that with which I was familiar. I also noted that, while I knew
that US forces occupied much of the country, the only concession to English
was the station signage – all other signage was absolutely foreign to me. I also
could not help but notice that in general the people in the street were very
(indeed, excessively) polite.

Yokohama occupied us for a couple of pleasing days, cargo being mechanical
and industrial goods, and the ship so well run by the shore-side personnel that
the officers’ tasks were commendably mild. Our next port, just down the coast,
was Shimizu, at that time primarily known as the putative home of Honda,
more a motor-cycle manufacturer than one of cars (Uncle Jack, of Somerleyton,
was a bike aficionado and had a love affair with his aged and leaky BSA; he
thought it terrible that these Japanese bikes had ignition keys – a bike should
be started with your foot! – a trendy innovation that could not last), and many
of which were loaded carefully without the need for any instruction. So, I took
a little trip down the coast.

Among the officers there were two FAPs, the senior one being Cora, an
intelligent and pleasant lady who liked Brahms and Rachmaninov. We decided
together to see something of the countryside during a break between noon and
1800, found our way to Shimizu station and sought travel guidance. As in Tokyo,
however, signs in English were absent, so we eventually found someone who told
us that we could really only go as far as Shizuoka, wherever that was, and we then
elected to go on what we hoped was The Bullet (the LEX, the Limited Express,
rather than the SEX, the Super Express, the latter’s first stop being Kobe). I still
do not know whether we were actually on The Bullet of worldwide fame, but
everything was comfortable, immaculate, and fast. Takeoff was so smooth that
I did not actually know that we were moving until I looked outside and saw the
roseate slopes of Mount Fuji on our inland side, a sight that will always remain
with me. I had thought Malay Railways better than anything that I had seen in
England, but this train operated even more miraculously, more like a silent aircraft
than a mere train. Again, the losing side in the War, with infrastructure virtually
obliterated, had been faced with a rail tabula rasa and had no alternative but to
completely reconstruct with the most modern technology available. Britain had
rebuilt over the damaged and decrepit; the country had much to lament.

Shizuoka was a nice little village, at least so it seemed in its own Japanese way,
and full of light and late afternoon activity. We decided to have a meal and were
greatly encouraged by the ‘menu’, comprising plaster models of all of the choices,
these highlighted in a window display. We thought this a splendid idea, having
never seen it before. We therefore entered, and were royally entertained, though
beer was about all that we could request, none of the other pictured libations
being in the least familiar to us. There was a bit of a delay, however, which in the

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