after VJ day; I wasn't doing what I was expected to do. I was genuinely sorry. It would be nice to have a beautiful girl to cook curry rice and cut leathery slices of dried cuttlefish. Maybe I could; I didn't feel I could; I was afraid of the evening in which we were to find out. So Shuji was embarrassed and solved his problem by bringing his girl into the house. I got rid of her, and Shuji converted into a domestic exclusively.

I often drove out into the fresh, comforting, farm country. As I slowly motored along a narrow road and admired the winding river deep in the gorge, my tire blew out. I got out to repair my first puncture and noticed a youth not far off, fishing. He would furtively glance at me. I beckoned him over. I wanted help and offered him 100 yen. He would have volunteered his assistance but approaching the Western stranger was an ordeal for the backward young fellow. When he reached me, he made an admirable bow. He was an attractive member of Japan's aboriginal people. He had delicate features, moving with the graceful gentleness of the Orientals. We busied ourselves with the tire, and he ran back to his father's hut to get a tool. When I was ready to roll, he was ready to come along with me. I took him home. He gave of himself with generosity and genuine affection. He must have instinctively known my desires in his primal, intuitive sensitivities-markedly absent in Shuji.

Shuji had himself a rich American and served as a houseboy. He made it necessary for me to carry on amours with others; this did not please him. He frightened off the countryboy, whom I was forced to meet in the country after that. Shuji's English was much improved and his typing excellent. I got him a job as a typist. We worked together and the relationship was fine.

I went to the big city to look for Shuji's replacement as my houseboy. In a restaurant a procurer-a young man with a sad face and torn clothes-approached me and asked if I were interested in a glamorous girl. I said no that I was interested in a man. My frankness was apparently novel and it took him some time to absorb it. With little enthusiasm, mechanically, he agreed to lead me to an unemployed youth he thought might be interested. In the slum of the city he called a young man, put him in the vehicle and left without interest in payment. I drove along with the young man and matched him in silence. He was a matter-of-fact, unappealing fellow who really didn't know what was required but was prepared to supply whatever it was for a price. Finally, I asked if he would introduce me to another. He understood and we went back to the slum. Within moments he was back with the prettiest young man I had ever seen in either hemisphere. I quickly enveloped him in the jeep and drove off with my prize, not even remembering to thank the silent one. I felt I kidnapped him and had no intention of ever giving him back. He was literally a son of the samurai of a family now impoverished. He had the responsibility of looking after his ailing father, but he could go with me that evening. I took him home and told him of all the duties I had wanted him for. He objected to certain intimacies and I dreaded to lose this sinewy, charming companion. He objected to being the love object of a bachelor. If I had a wife and children, then it would be all right. Then he would be the object of only one of several phases in the normal sex life of a man. I claimed to have these: he surrendered to me. I was sorry I had to do this, but this was a sort of war and falsehood was a normal facet of it.

He got someone else to look after his father and came to work for good wages

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