Before I could see Top Gun: A New Hope with my son, we had to watch the 1986 original. That's what we knocked out yesterday.
And today we watched the sequel. Gloriously ridiculous. The less you know about the military and geopolitics, the more entertaining it is.
For example, Ed Harris (the actor who played the rear admiral) was born in 1950. If his character's age is the same as the actor's, he would be 10 years beyond mandatory retirement.
Showing posts with label 13-GS in Japan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 13-GS in Japan. Show all posts
Sunday, August 28, 2022
Wednesday, July 06, 2022
The transition to Germany
From start to finish, it has taken about five months to get to Germany.
Here's the timeline of how things played out:
- Feb 16. Application complete
- Mar 31. Interview/li>
- Apr 5. Tentative offer. Accepted.
- Apr 14. Received Living Quarter Allowance paperwork & Exceptional Family Member Program paperwork.
- Apr 19. Overseas Tour Extension approved by Germany.
- May 4. Services recommended for EFMP. <;i>May 5. Submitted EFMP paperwork.
- May 6. Transportation agreement, Entry on Duty set for 3 Jul.
- May 9. Current boss signed Request for Orders.
- May 10. Request for release from gaining CPAC to losing CPAC.
- May 12. Gaining CPAC waiting for losing C{AC, who's waiting for director.
- May 16. Received final, official offer. Accepted.
- May 17. Received Permanent Change of Station orders.
- May 18. Got tickets from Travel Office
- May 19. I learned there Renewal Agreement Travel, while theoretically possible, isn't feasible.
- May 20. Got sponsor and itinerary for flights.
- May 27. Temporary storage account updated.
- Jun 8. Unaccompanied baggage pick up.
- Jun 13. Picked up school records and kids' yearbook.
- Jun 23. Housing pre-inspection, Military Personnel Division (MPD) out-brief.
- Jun 24. Turned in access badges; last day in the office.
- Jun 27. Started outprocessing. Finished about 80%
- Jun 29. Main Household Goods shipment. Sold car. Cleaned house. Checked into lodging.
- Jun 30. Housing inspection. Ended auto insurance. Cleared self-help.
- Jul 1. Ended cell phone service. Final out with MPD.
- Jul 5. Shuttle to Haneda. Flight to Chicago, then to Frankfurt.
- Jul 6. Arrival.
Monday, July 04, 2022
Reflecting on my experience with Japanese
For my last full day in Japan, I think it's appropriate to spend some time reflecting on what a long road it has been.
My fascination with Japan began in the 1980s. Back then, Japan used to occupy a much bigger space in the American psyche than it does today, and I remember watching movies like Gung Ho, Mr. Baseball, and Rising Sun. Japan's Hollywood image wasn't always flattering, but it left me with a lingering fascination. Plus, my grandfather told me that he spent some time convalescing in Japan during the Korean War.
I took Japanese 101 during my first semester at the College of Lake County. I took six classes in fall 1993, totaling 18 credit hours (I do not recommend this). Taking that many classes was a bad idea, and I didn't do particularly well -- I got a B -- but it was a valuable experience. I learned that Studying Japanese is not the same as studying French, and as part of the class I got to try sushi for the first time. I didn't take any more Japanese classes at CLC after that, but it was there that I developed the dream that would lead me to the University of Hawaii -- I wanted to get paid to travel to foreign countries, and learning Japanese was going to help me do that.
I succedded in transferring to the UH system (the Hilo campus) for the fall 1995 semester. Unfortunaely, class availability was horrible, and I was stuck taking classes that I didn't really need or had already taken. Since it had been been two years since I took Japanese 101, I decided to retake it. When I then transferred to the Manoa campus for spring 1996, got a job as a waiter in Waikiki (where I could practice), and continued with Japanese 102.
I had a hard time with Japanese at UHM, for several reasons. First, they had a different curriculum than UHH, and -- as a transfer student -- I didn't understand their system. Second, I was busy, and without any measurable value to the listening exercises, I never went to the listening lab. Should I have? In retrospect, yes, but in the moment I always prioritized the tangible over the intangible. Again, I got a B.
I took Japanese 201 in the fall 1996 semester, and -- again -- didn't do very well. I got a C. By that point, though, I had run out of money, and I had to take a break from college. UH raised tuition by 40% in a single year, and as an out-of-state student I just couldn't afford it. I spent all of 1997 working full time (and part time) to establish Hawaii residency. When I resumed in the spring of 1998, I retook Japanese 201 on a credit-no credit basis, and then Took Japanese 202 during the summer. I remember the summer course was particularly brutal -- two hours a day, five days a week, for six weeks. Every day there was a 20-kanji quiz, and this was while I was both working in Waikiki AND working for the school newspaper AND being a part of the church community. Again, I got a B in Japanese class, but this time I considered that a victory.
After I graduated in May 1999, I considered becoming an English teacher in Japan through the JET program, but shelved that idea in favor of becoming a diplomat. Later, in August 2003, I chose instead to teach English in Korea. Fun fact, though -- I spent a day in Osaka getting my E-2 visa, and was able to use my Japanese to ask for directions.
In 2005, I received a scholarship from Fujitsu for the China-focused MBA program at the University of Hawaii (again). The graduation ceremony took place in Tokyo in December 2006, and there was a moment that I feel particularly proud of. While I was walking through a train station, a couple came up to me to ask for directions in English. Thinking it strange that someone kinda Japanese-lookin' would ask *me* for directions, I asked if they were Korean (in Korean). When they said yes, I grabbed the nearest Japanese guy I could find and then ended up translating between Japanese and Korean (albeit poorly). Still, I'll never forget it.
I ended up teaching English in Korea again in 2007 (t0 my great embarrassment), and then joined the Army in 2008. In an effort to qualify for Foreign Language Proficiency Pay (FLPP), I started brushing up on my Japanese with Rosetta Stone, and took the Defense Language Proficiency Test in 2012. I got a 1+/1+ in Listening and Reading -- not enough to get paid, but it might have been useful if I were selected to be a Foreign Area Officer (FAO).
In June 2014, my wife and I vacation to Osaka, and the possibility of getting assigned to Japan came up in late 2015. However, that didn't work out, and instead we were assigned to Hawaii (not that Hawaii was bad). It was there that I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which put an end to my hope of being assigned to Japan as a FAO.
Yet it was through retirement from active duty that I got an opportunity to work in Japan as a federal civilian employee. After 25+ years of hoping and dreaming, I got a job working for the Army in Japan in January 2020.
It was fantastic timing, too -- the COVID19 outbreak followed less than two months later, and I can honestly say Japan was one of the safest places to be.
So I am sad about leaving Japan -- my two-and-a-half years here represent the fulfillment of a decades-long goal. But it is a chapter in my life that is now over, and it is now time to move on.
My fascination with Japan began in the 1980s. Back then, Japan used to occupy a much bigger space in the American psyche than it does today, and I remember watching movies like Gung Ho, Mr. Baseball, and Rising Sun. Japan's Hollywood image wasn't always flattering, but it left me with a lingering fascination. Plus, my grandfather told me that he spent some time convalescing in Japan during the Korean War.
I took Japanese 101 during my first semester at the College of Lake County. I took six classes in fall 1993, totaling 18 credit hours (I do not recommend this). Taking that many classes was a bad idea, and I didn't do particularly well -- I got a B -- but it was a valuable experience. I learned that Studying Japanese is not the same as studying French, and as part of the class I got to try sushi for the first time. I didn't take any more Japanese classes at CLC after that, but it was there that I developed the dream that would lead me to the University of Hawaii -- I wanted to get paid to travel to foreign countries, and learning Japanese was going to help me do that.
I succedded in transferring to the UH system (the Hilo campus) for the fall 1995 semester. Unfortunaely, class availability was horrible, and I was stuck taking classes that I didn't really need or had already taken. Since it had been been two years since I took Japanese 101, I decided to retake it. When I then transferred to the Manoa campus for spring 1996, got a job as a waiter in Waikiki (where I could practice), and continued with Japanese 102.
I had a hard time with Japanese at UHM, for several reasons. First, they had a different curriculum than UHH, and -- as a transfer student -- I didn't understand their system. Second, I was busy, and without any measurable value to the listening exercises, I never went to the listening lab. Should I have? In retrospect, yes, but in the moment I always prioritized the tangible over the intangible. Again, I got a B.I took Japanese 201 in the fall 1996 semester, and -- again -- didn't do very well. I got a C. By that point, though, I had run out of money, and I had to take a break from college. UH raised tuition by 40% in a single year, and as an out-of-state student I just couldn't afford it. I spent all of 1997 working full time (and part time) to establish Hawaii residency. When I resumed in the spring of 1998, I retook Japanese 201 on a credit-no credit basis, and then Took Japanese 202 during the summer. I remember the summer course was particularly brutal -- two hours a day, five days a week, for six weeks. Every day there was a 20-kanji quiz, and this was while I was both working in Waikiki AND working for the school newspaper AND being a part of the church community. Again, I got a B in Japanese class, but this time I considered that a victory.
After I graduated in May 1999, I considered becoming an English teacher in Japan through the JET program, but shelved that idea in favor of becoming a diplomat. Later, in August 2003, I chose instead to teach English in Korea. Fun fact, though -- I spent a day in Osaka getting my E-2 visa, and was able to use my Japanese to ask for directions.
In 2005, I received a scholarship from Fujitsu for the China-focused MBA program at the University of Hawaii (again). The graduation ceremony took place in Tokyo in December 2006, and there was a moment that I feel particularly proud of. While I was walking through a train station, a couple came up to me to ask for directions in English. Thinking it strange that someone kinda Japanese-lookin' would ask *me* for directions, I asked if they were Korean (in Korean). When they said yes, I grabbed the nearest Japanese guy I could find and then ended up translating between Japanese and Korean (albeit poorly). Still, I'll never forget it.
I ended up teaching English in Korea again in 2007 (t0 my great embarrassment), and then joined the Army in 2008. In an effort to qualify for Foreign Language Proficiency Pay (FLPP), I started brushing up on my Japanese with Rosetta Stone, and took the Defense Language Proficiency Test in 2012. I got a 1+/1+ in Listening and Reading -- not enough to get paid, but it might have been useful if I were selected to be a Foreign Area Officer (FAO).
In June 2014, my wife and I vacation to Osaka, and the possibility of getting assigned to Japan came up in late 2015. However, that didn't work out, and instead we were assigned to Hawaii (not that Hawaii was bad). It was there that I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which put an end to my hope of being assigned to Japan as a FAO.
Yet it was through retirement from active duty that I got an opportunity to work in Japan as a federal civilian employee. After 25+ years of hoping and dreaming, I got a job working for the Army in Japan in January 2020.
It was fantastic timing, too -- the COVID19 outbreak followed less than two months later, and I can honestly say Japan was one of the safest places to be.
So I am sad about leaving Japan -- my two-and-a-half years here represent the fulfillment of a decades-long goal. But it is a chapter in my life that is now over, and it is now time to move on.
Saturday, July 02, 2022
Fourth of July celebration
For the 4th of July weekend, Camp Zama held an open-base event (the first since COVID began) that featured a fireworks display.
The line outside Gate 4 stretched all the way to the train station -- a full 10-minute walk.And this was at 5:00. The show didn't start until 8.
The line outside Gate 4 stretched all the way to the train station -- a full 10-minute walk.And this was at 5:00. The show didn't start until 8.
Tuesday, June 14, 2022
来栖家の墓 The Kurusu family gravesite
Of the 2.5 million war dead who are enshrined at Yasukuni, there is only one who was of mixed white and Japanese parentage – Captain Kurusu Ryō (来栖良).
[Source]
Ryō’s mother, Alice Jay Little, was born and raised in Chicago. When she was 20 years old, she met a Japanese diplomat who worked at the consulate in New York named Kurusu Saburō (来栖三郎). They married in 1914, and had a daughter (Jaye) in 1915. Ryō was their second child, born in 1919. In order to accompany her husband to his next duty station in Italy, Alice relinquished her U.S. citizenship and adopted Japanese nationality. While in Italy, they had another daughter named Pia, in 1926.
The relationship between the U.S. and Japan was not particularly contentious at the time, but this changed in the 1930s. Japan set up a puppet state in Manchuria in 1931, and launched a full-scale invasion of China in 1937. As the decade progressed, it became clear that the United States and the Empire of Japan were on a collision course.
As the son of a Japanese official, Ryō was expected to contribute to the war effort, so after graduating from the Yokohama Advanced Industrial College in 1940, he joined the Imperial Japanese Army as a second lieutenant pilot trainee.
[Source]
Sadly, the duty of declaring war on the United States on December 7, 1941, fell to Ryō’s father Saburō. However, as depicted in the 1970 movie "Tora Tora Tora," it didn’t work out as planned.
Because of problems with the decryption process, the timing was off, and the official declaration came only after the attack on Pearl Harbor was over. Saburō was interned until he could be exchanged for the American ambassador in summer 1942.
Ryō had to deal with a lot of harassment because of his mixed parentage, but he finished flight school and served as an engineer and a test pilot. As the years passed, the war did not go well for Japan, and in 1945 he was pulled into the air defense of Tokyo.
On February 17 of that year, the U.S. Fifth Fleet conducted a series of raids on Tokyo to divert attention from the impending invasion of Iwo Jima. In the scramble to get planes launched to defend the city, Ryō was inadvertently struck by a taxiing Japanese airplane’s propellor, and he was instantly killed.
Although Ryō is enshrined at Yasukuni as one of Japan’s war dead, he is not buried there, nor are his remains interred there. Instead, his family’s grave site can found at the Aoyama Cemetery (青山墓地) in Tokyo.
At the gravesite, there is a tablet inscribed with a quote from the Roman philosopher Herodotus. It is written not in Latin, but in English, and reads, “In peace, sons bury their fathers; in war, fathers bury their sons.”
On the back of the tablet are the names of the Kurusu family, though the names of Ryō’s two sisters are missing. His younger sister Pia is still alive; she gave an interview in 2020 about her father’s career.
Ryō’s older sister, Jaye, passed away in 1999. Of all places, she happens to rest in Arlington National Cemetery, beside her husband, a U.S. Air Force major general named William J. Maddox.
[Source]
[The Kurusu family biography]
[Source]Ryō’s mother, Alice Jay Little, was born and raised in Chicago. When she was 20 years old, she met a Japanese diplomat who worked at the consulate in New York named Kurusu Saburō (来栖三郎). They married in 1914, and had a daughter (Jaye) in 1915. Ryō was their second child, born in 1919. In order to accompany her husband to his next duty station in Italy, Alice relinquished her U.S. citizenship and adopted Japanese nationality. While in Italy, they had another daughter named Pia, in 1926.
The relationship between the U.S. and Japan was not particularly contentious at the time, but this changed in the 1930s. Japan set up a puppet state in Manchuria in 1931, and launched a full-scale invasion of China in 1937. As the decade progressed, it became clear that the United States and the Empire of Japan were on a collision course.
As the son of a Japanese official, Ryō was expected to contribute to the war effort, so after graduating from the Yokohama Advanced Industrial College in 1940, he joined the Imperial Japanese Army as a second lieutenant pilot trainee.
[Source]Sadly, the duty of declaring war on the United States on December 7, 1941, fell to Ryō’s father Saburō. However, as depicted in the 1970 movie "Tora Tora Tora," it didn’t work out as planned.
Because of problems with the decryption process, the timing was off, and the official declaration came only after the attack on Pearl Harbor was over. Saburō was interned until he could be exchanged for the American ambassador in summer 1942.
Ryō had to deal with a lot of harassment because of his mixed parentage, but he finished flight school and served as an engineer and a test pilot. As the years passed, the war did not go well for Japan, and in 1945 he was pulled into the air defense of Tokyo.
On February 17 of that year, the U.S. Fifth Fleet conducted a series of raids on Tokyo to divert attention from the impending invasion of Iwo Jima. In the scramble to get planes launched to defend the city, Ryō was inadvertently struck by a taxiing Japanese airplane’s propellor, and he was instantly killed.
Although Ryō is enshrined at Yasukuni as one of Japan’s war dead, he is not buried there, nor are his remains interred there. Instead, his family’s grave site can found at the Aoyama Cemetery (青山墓地) in Tokyo.
At the gravesite, there is a tablet inscribed with a quote from the Roman philosopher Herodotus. It is written not in Latin, but in English, and reads, “In peace, sons bury their fathers; in war, fathers bury their sons.” On the back of the tablet are the names of the Kurusu family, though the names of Ryō’s two sisters are missing. His younger sister Pia is still alive; she gave an interview in 2020 about her father’s career.
Ryō’s older sister, Jaye, passed away in 1999. Of all places, she happens to rest in Arlington National Cemetery, beside her husband, a U.S. Air Force major general named William J. Maddox.
[Source][The Kurusu family biography]
Thursday, June 09, 2022
At least one flashcard was useful
I don't remember when I did this flashcard, but I came across it as I was cleaning up.
陸上自衛隊 座間駐屯地
If nothing else, this one was worth it.
陸上自衛隊 座間駐屯地
If nothing else, this one was worth it.
Saturday, June 04, 2022
The consequences of poor posture
It's been 100 days since Russia launched its full scale invasion of Ukraine. For me, the biggest lessons relate to the consequences of poor posture.
By “posture,” I mean the decisions a country’s military makes that address a particular set of threats. For 50 years, the U.S. Army in Germany was postured to defend against a potential Soviet offensive through the Fulda Gap. It made decisions about force structure accordingly.
Let’s use another example. When I was in the Philippines in 2016, I was surprised by the fact that the Philippine Army does not have packaged food (MREs – Meals, Ready to Eat). The reason why is that everywhere the army goes, it either procures food locally, or relies on the cafeterias of its existing army bases.
As a consequence, the Philippines simply does not have the capability for offensive operations. That’s OK, though, because they don’t care about that anyway. It’s a posturing decision based on what they wanted to focus on, and what they weren’t going to worry about.
Although the United States has a massive military budget, we can't do everything, and we've seen the effects of our posturing decisions.
Before 9/11, we were not postured to address the rise in transnational terrorism. The way our federal agencies shared information was based on other priorities, and it left us vulnerable. Then, after we succeeded in invading Iraq, we had trouble with the ensuing insurgency. Why? Because we weren't postured for counter-insurgency. We are not, by nature, a colonial power.
Russia’s performance in the war thus far has shown that it was not properly postured for a large-scale invasion. This was evident in the way:
Consider the following:
Failure to do so puts us at risk of embarrassing ourselves, just like Russia.
By “posture,” I mean the decisions a country’s military makes that address a particular set of threats. For 50 years, the U.S. Army in Germany was postured to defend against a potential Soviet offensive through the Fulda Gap. It made decisions about force structure accordingly.
Let’s use another example. When I was in the Philippines in 2016, I was surprised by the fact that the Philippine Army does not have packaged food (MREs – Meals, Ready to Eat). The reason why is that everywhere the army goes, it either procures food locally, or relies on the cafeterias of its existing army bases.
As a consequence, the Philippines simply does not have the capability for offensive operations. That’s OK, though, because they don’t care about that anyway. It’s a posturing decision based on what they wanted to focus on, and what they weren’t going to worry about.
Although the United States has a massive military budget, we can't do everything, and we've seen the effects of our posturing decisions.
Before 9/11, we were not postured to address the rise in transnational terrorism. The way our federal agencies shared information was based on other priorities, and it left us vulnerable. Then, after we succeeded in invading Iraq, we had trouble with the ensuing insurgency. Why? Because we weren't postured for counter-insurgency. We are not, by nature, a colonial power.
Russia’s performance in the war thus far has shown that it was not properly postured for a large-scale invasion. This was evident in the way:
- Russian troops were not aware what the mission was. [Source] By comparison, the George W. Bush administration signaled the invasion of Iraq in the 2002 State of the Union address -- a full year before the invasion began. Although the casus belli he used turned out to be false, everyone in Third Army at least knew what they were fighting for.
- Russian soldiers had not been properly maintaining their vehicles.[Source]
- The Russian Army did not have enough trucks to sustain their operations.[Source]
Consider the following:
- There are very few units that fall underneath the U.S. Army in Japan headquarters. This is no secret, either -- they've put it right on the website. There's an aviation battalion to shuttle VIPs, a band to do public relations, and that's about it. There are a bunch of tenant units, but they answer directly to other headquarters located outside Japan.
- The #1 biggest use of land on Camp Zama is the golf course. As part of its efforts to be a "good neighbor," the golf course is open to Japanese citizens who pay membership fees. That's great for public relations, but it means fewer buildings available to units that might be stationed here.
- There is no railhead at either Camp Zama or the nearby Sagami Depot. What this means is that -- should some sort of contingency happen -- there would be no easy way to get equipment on or off these installations. This is a legacy of Camp Zama's prior role as a military academy; it was never designed to be a logistics hub.
Failure to do so puts us at risk of embarrassing ourselves, just like Russia.
Usable vs. useful
I'm going through my stuff and throwing away things I don't need anymore. Some things, while still usable, are no longer useful.
For example, I still have these blank CDs and CD cases. They're completely usable, but who actually uses them?
Time to let these go.
For example, I still have these blank CDs and CD cases. They're completely usable, but who actually uses them?Time to let these go.
Friday, June 03, 2022
Letting go
As I was getting out of the Army, I got rid of my soccer shoes. I had lost the ability to run because of multiple sclerosis, so I didn’t need them anymore. It was sad, but it was time to face reality and let go.[That post]
In preparation for our move to Germany, I am doing more of the same, though both the nature of the baggage and the reasons for throwing it away are a bit different. I’m throwing away my Army leadership books, my Chinese books, and my Japanese books.
The reason I’m getting rid of my Army books is because I am beyond the point where they are useful. I bought them for my time in company command, but I’ve since retired and I no longer benefit from keeping them as references. Plus, having written my own book that (in my own, humble opinion) supersedes them, I feel that I’ve effectively internalized many of their lessons anyway.
The reason I’m getting rid of my Chinese books is that I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I will never need them. I studied Chinese as part of my China-focused MBA 2005-2006, but since then I have never had a job that could utilize those skills. (可是我还很喜欢中文.)At different points, I have had opportuntites to became a diplomat or an Army Foreign Area Officer, but things didn’t work out that way. Given that I’m now closer to the end of my career than the beginning, and there are better learning materials available now anyway, it’s time to let them go.
And the reason I’m getting rid of my Japanese books is that -- after over 25 years of hoping to live and work in Japan – that dream is fulfilled. I studied Japanese at the College of Lake County and the University of Hawaii (both Hilo and Manoa) in the 1990s, and used it when I worked in Waikiki. I considered the JET program after graduation, but instead went to Korea in 2003. In 2011, I studied on my own in the hopes of getting some foreign language incentive pay, and took the DLPT (didn't get the money, though). In 2015, I ranked an assignment in Japan as my #1 choice (although I ended up assigned to Hawaii). Finally, in 2020, I was selected for a GS job in Camp Zama.
For 25+ years I’ve been holding on to my Japanese language materials thinking that they might be useful someday. As my time here in Japan is coming to an end, I feel a sense of satisfaction that they’ve done what they were supposed to do. I studied Japanese, and I used it while I was here.
And now it’s time to let them go.
In preparation for our move to Germany, I am doing more of the same, though both the nature of the baggage and the reasons for throwing it away are a bit different. I’m throwing away my Army leadership books, my Chinese books, and my Japanese books.
The reason I’m getting rid of my Army books is because I am beyond the point where they are useful. I bought them for my time in company command, but I’ve since retired and I no longer benefit from keeping them as references. Plus, having written my own book that (in my own, humble opinion) supersedes them, I feel that I’ve effectively internalized many of their lessons anyway.
The reason I’m getting rid of my Chinese books is that I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I will never need them. I studied Chinese as part of my China-focused MBA 2005-2006, but since then I have never had a job that could utilize those skills. (可是我还很喜欢中文.)At different points, I have had opportuntites to became a diplomat or an Army Foreign Area Officer, but things didn’t work out that way. Given that I’m now closer to the end of my career than the beginning, and there are better learning materials available now anyway, it’s time to let them go.
And the reason I’m getting rid of my Japanese books is that -- after over 25 years of hoping to live and work in Japan – that dream is fulfilled. I studied Japanese at the College of Lake County and the University of Hawaii (both Hilo and Manoa) in the 1990s, and used it when I worked in Waikiki. I considered the JET program after graduation, but instead went to Korea in 2003. In 2011, I studied on my own in the hopes of getting some foreign language incentive pay, and took the DLPT (didn't get the money, though). In 2015, I ranked an assignment in Japan as my #1 choice (although I ended up assigned to Hawaii). Finally, in 2020, I was selected for a GS job in Camp Zama. For 25+ years I’ve been holding on to my Japanese language materials thinking that they might be useful someday. As my time here in Japan is coming to an end, I feel a sense of satisfaction that they’ve done what they were supposed to do. I studied Japanese, and I used it while I was here.
And now it’s time to let them go.
Monday, May 30, 2022
Franklin James Dukes
Franklin James Dukes was born on November 8th, 1919, in Cambria County, Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of nine children born to first generation English immigrants James and Sarah Ann (née Birchall). However, he grew up as the youngest of five because three of his older siblings had died in infancy, and his oldest sister had already begun her own family before Frank was born.
Frank’s family moved to the central Pennsylvanian county of Mifflin, where he went to elementary school. In the 1940 census, he was listed as living with his sister Edna, his brother-in-law, and their four children. Census records note that he had nothing more than an 8th grade education, and had been out of work for the past year.
At some point, he found a job as a baker, and married Margaret Kyler in August 1942. The timing on this is somewhat curious, because their daughter (also named Margaret) was born in December of the same year, but this (from what I can tell) was not exactly unheard of in that part of Appalachia.
World War II required that all young men register for the draft, and Frank’s number came up in July 1943. As part of the 361st Regiment in the 91st Infantry Division, he would have participated in the battles for Rome and the Arno River in late spring and summer 1944.
"In September 1944, the division crossed the Sieve River, outflanked the famous Gothic Line, and captured the Futa Pass. For its part in combat, the division was awarded the North Apennines, Po Valley and Rome-Arno campaign streamers." [Source]
By spring 1945, Allied forces were set to begin Operation Grapeshot, an attack across the Lombardy plain that stretches from Milan to Venice. The Po Valley Campaign began on 6 April, with the 91st Division set to advance in an arc from Bologna to Vicenza.
On April 16th, “the U.S. 91st and 34th Infantry Divisions attacked north along Highway 65 in the Savena River valley… The defending 65th Division had heavily fortified the ridgelines on both sides of the valley, and stiff resistance immediately stopped the American drive.” [Source]
At some point in the fighting that day, Franklin James Dukes was killed in action. He was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and Bronze Star.
Frank’s widow, Margaret, remarried in 1950 and passed away in 2018. His daughter married in 1964 and is still alive today. But Franklin James Dukes will be forever rest in the Florence American Cemetery and Memorial in northern Italy.
I am thinking of him today.
Frank’s family moved to the central Pennsylvanian county of Mifflin, where he went to elementary school. In the 1940 census, he was listed as living with his sister Edna, his brother-in-law, and their four children. Census records note that he had nothing more than an 8th grade education, and had been out of work for the past year.
At some point, he found a job as a baker, and married Margaret Kyler in August 1942. The timing on this is somewhat curious, because their daughter (also named Margaret) was born in December of the same year, but this (from what I can tell) was not exactly unheard of in that part of Appalachia.
World War II required that all young men register for the draft, and Frank’s number came up in July 1943. As part of the 361st Regiment in the 91st Infantry Division, he would have participated in the battles for Rome and the Arno River in late spring and summer 1944.
"In September 1944, the division crossed the Sieve River, outflanked the famous Gothic Line, and captured the Futa Pass. For its part in combat, the division was awarded the North Apennines, Po Valley and Rome-Arno campaign streamers." [Source]
By spring 1945, Allied forces were set to begin Operation Grapeshot, an attack across the Lombardy plain that stretches from Milan to Venice. The Po Valley Campaign began on 6 April, with the 91st Division set to advance in an arc from Bologna to Vicenza.
On April 16th, “the U.S. 91st and 34th Infantry Divisions attacked north along Highway 65 in the Savena River valley… The defending 65th Division had heavily fortified the ridgelines on both sides of the valley, and stiff resistance immediately stopped the American drive.” [Source]At some point in the fighting that day, Franklin James Dukes was killed in action. He was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and Bronze Star.
Frank’s widow, Margaret, remarried in 1950 and passed away in 2018. His daughter married in 1964 and is still alive today. But Franklin James Dukes will be forever rest in the Florence American Cemetery and Memorial in northern Italy.
I am thinking of him today.
Saturday, May 21, 2022
Memorials to the U.S.S. Oneida
In January 1870, the USS Oneida departed Yokohama after delivering a shipment of weapons to the Japanese government. Unfortunately, it collided with a British steamer that was on its way in (the “Bombay”) and sank, taking with it 125 of its 186 officers and crew. Not seeing any signal of distress, the Bombay continued into port, neglected to make a report, and left any rescue efforts to two Japanese fishing boats in the vicinity. [Source]
The incident caused a huge uproar among Yokohama’s international community. In the ensuing investigations, the British took a legalistic approach to the matter, saying it was the American vessel’s fault for neither signaling nor maneuvering properly.
The Americans adopted a more ethics-based approach, saying that the steamer should have acted on its professional obligation to render assistance. The imbroglio resulted in the British captain having his license suspended for six months, and the ship being “libeled,” meaning other ships from the same company were unwelcome in American ports.
In the wake of the tragedy, Americans set up a memorial in the Yokohama Foreigners Cemetery (横浜外国人墓地) – one that American service members found undamaged after the Japanese surrender in 1945, and which still stands to this day. Sailors assigned to the Yokosuka Naval Base help clean up every November [Source].
Yet this is not the only memorial.
The U.S. government did not attempt to salvage the Oneida, despite it resting in the shallow waters of Tokyo Bay. As a result, in 1872 the wreck was sold in auction, and salvage rights passed to the new owner, who began work on it sometime later.
As American Eliza Scidmore wrote in his 1891 memoir Jinrikisha days in Japan, “The wreckers found many bones of the lost men among the ship’s timbers, and when the work was entirely completed, with their voluntary contributions they erected a tablet in the Ikegami [temple] grounds to the memory of the dead…” A ceremony then followed which was attended by 75 priests, the resident American admiral, and 100 men from the U.S. Asiatic Squadron.
Scidmore continued, “Americans may well take to heart the example of piety, charity, magnanimity, and liberality that this company of hard-working Japanese fishermen and wreckers have set them.” [Source, pages 139-140]
These were men who held no obligation to the lost Americans apart from a common humanity, and yet they treated the deceased with greater dignity than even their own government.
Although the memorial originally had copper lettering, this was removed during the dark days of World War II for its scrap value. This damaged the engraving, but it is still mostly legible.
It reads, “In memory of some of the unknown dead of the U.S. Oneida, lost in Yeodo Bay January 24, 1870, whose remains were here interred by [innumer?/honor?]able [and] tender Japanese [hands]. [Inasmuch as ye] have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, Ye have done it unto me.” [Mt 25:40 KJV]
The incident caused a huge uproar among Yokohama’s international community. In the ensuing investigations, the British took a legalistic approach to the matter, saying it was the American vessel’s fault for neither signaling nor maneuvering properly. The Americans adopted a more ethics-based approach, saying that the steamer should have acted on its professional obligation to render assistance. The imbroglio resulted in the British captain having his license suspended for six months, and the ship being “libeled,” meaning other ships from the same company were unwelcome in American ports.
In the wake of the tragedy, Americans set up a memorial in the Yokohama Foreigners Cemetery (横浜外国人墓地) – one that American service members found undamaged after the Japanese surrender in 1945, and which still stands to this day. Sailors assigned to the Yokosuka Naval Base help clean up every November [Source].
Yet this is not the only memorial. The U.S. government did not attempt to salvage the Oneida, despite it resting in the shallow waters of Tokyo Bay. As a result, in 1872 the wreck was sold in auction, and salvage rights passed to the new owner, who began work on it sometime later.
As American Eliza Scidmore wrote in his 1891 memoir Jinrikisha days in Japan, “The wreckers found many bones of the lost men among the ship’s timbers, and when the work was entirely completed, with their voluntary contributions they erected a tablet in the Ikegami [temple] grounds to the memory of the dead…” A ceremony then followed which was attended by 75 priests, the resident American admiral, and 100 men from the U.S. Asiatic Squadron.
Scidmore continued, “Americans may well take to heart the example of piety, charity, magnanimity, and liberality that this company of hard-working Japanese fishermen and wreckers have set them.” [Source, pages 139-140]
These were men who held no obligation to the lost Americans apart from a common humanity, and yet they treated the deceased with greater dignity than even their own government.
Although the memorial originally had copper lettering, this was removed during the dark days of World War II for its scrap value. This damaged the engraving, but it is still mostly legible.
It reads, “In memory of some of the unknown dead of the U.S. Oneida, lost in Yeodo Bay January 24, 1870, whose remains were here interred by [innumer?/honor?]able [and] tender Japanese [hands]. [Inasmuch as ye] have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, Ye have done it unto me.” [Mt 25:40 KJV]
Tuesday, May 17, 2022
My first (and likely only) 日本 baseball game
When I came to Japan in January 2020, one of my "bucket list" things to do was watch a professional baseball game. Unfortunately, COVID happened, and I had to put that idea on the back-burner.
Well, today I got to watch the Yakult Swallows play the Hanshin Tigers at Jingu Stadium in Tokyo. It was a great game, and I got to learn a lot about "baseball culture" differences.
-No peanuts or cracker jacks. Unlike in the U.S., all the snacks are easily cleaned up. This is for the convenience of the Japanese fans, who -- as a matter of culture -- clean up after themselves. They do this in movie theaters, too -- they bring their garbage with them to the exits, and throw everything away as they leave.
-There's not much legroom. I'm only 5'6", and my feet were still hanging over the ledge to the next-lower row of seats.
-Beer ladies. They carry the kegs on their backs as they walk around and pour it into the cups on-order (still crazy prices, though -- $7 per cup)
-Katsu-don is the unofficial snack because katsu 勝つ means win. (It's an interesting play on words. カツ丼 becomes 勝つ丼 in a sports context.)
-There are cheerleaders, and they do routines between innings.
-When there's a foul ball, an alarm sounds, and staff check to make sure no one got knocked out or something.
-Paraphernalia. No cheeseheads or foam fingers for the Swallows. They have umbrellas and little plastic bats to beat together during the chants.
-At the end of the game, the home team lines up and bows to the fans. Lots of very respectful conduct, which mirrors the culture.
The game itself was exciting. The home team (Swallows) were down 0-1 to the Tigers going into the 9th inning, but the Swallows rallied and -- on a sacrifice fly to right field -- scored the winning run for a walk-off win.
To view just the 9th, skip to the video's 3:43 mark.
Well, today I got to watch the Yakult Swallows play the Hanshin Tigers at Jingu Stadium in Tokyo. It was a great game, and I got to learn a lot about "baseball culture" differences.
-No peanuts or cracker jacks. Unlike in the U.S., all the snacks are easily cleaned up. This is for the convenience of the Japanese fans, who -- as a matter of culture -- clean up after themselves. They do this in movie theaters, too -- they bring their garbage with them to the exits, and throw everything away as they leave.
-There's not much legroom. I'm only 5'6", and my feet were still hanging over the ledge to the next-lower row of seats.
-Beer ladies. They carry the kegs on their backs as they walk around and pour it into the cups on-order (still crazy prices, though -- $7 per cup)
-Katsu-don is the unofficial snack because katsu 勝つ means win. (It's an interesting play on words. カツ丼 becomes 勝つ丼 in a sports context.)
-There are cheerleaders, and they do routines between innings.
-When there's a foul ball, an alarm sounds, and staff check to make sure no one got knocked out or something.-Paraphernalia. No cheeseheads or foam fingers for the Swallows. They have umbrellas and little plastic bats to beat together during the chants.
-At the end of the game, the home team lines up and bows to the fans. Lots of very respectful conduct, which mirrors the culture.
The game itself was exciting. The home team (Swallows) were down 0-1 to the Tigers going into the 9th inning, but the Swallows rallied and -- on a sacrifice fly to right field -- scored the winning run for a walk-off win.
To view just the 9th, skip to the video's 3:43 mark.
Thursday, May 12, 2022
Three memories
We've been sorting through old papers recently, and I found this drawing by my daughter in the garbage can. I can't keep it forever, but it's worth posting and remembering.
Yesterday we went up to the U.S. embassy to submit applications to renew our childrens' passports, and I had good conversation with her. She reminded me of a time -- early in our stay here -- when we heard a baby crying fitfully for some indeterminable reason.
Apparently, I'd made some comment about how the baby sounded constipated -- alternating fussiness with alarming screams. She thought was super funny at the time, she said, and giggled all that afternoon as she imagined someone having a very difficult time on a toilet.
We also talked about a project she is doing in social studies class on Buddhism. I asked if she needed any pictures of temples, but she said no -- that she already had too many. I joked that it would be funny to go around taking selfies in temples, and then doing the report on how fashionable she looked.
I have this mock-conceited voice that I like to use in those situations, and I'll say things like, "Here I am at this one temple, and --- oh my gosh -- check out how good my hair looks." Or "I'm not actually better than anyone else; I'm just saying this so everyone knows how to act around me."
Nothing particularly important, but these memories are precious to me, and I write them here so I don't ever forget them.
Yesterday we went up to the U.S. embassy to submit applications to renew our childrens' passports, and I had good conversation with her. She reminded me of a time -- early in our stay here -- when we heard a baby crying fitfully for some indeterminable reason. Apparently, I'd made some comment about how the baby sounded constipated -- alternating fussiness with alarming screams. She thought was super funny at the time, she said, and giggled all that afternoon as she imagined someone having a very difficult time on a toilet.
We also talked about a project she is doing in social studies class on Buddhism. I asked if she needed any pictures of temples, but she said no -- that she already had too many. I joked that it would be funny to go around taking selfies in temples, and then doing the report on how fashionable she looked.
I have this mock-conceited voice that I like to use in those situations, and I'll say things like, "Here I am at this one temple, and --- oh my gosh -- check out how good my hair looks." Or "I'm not actually better than anyone else; I'm just saying this so everyone knows how to act around me."
Nothing particularly important, but these memories are precious to me, and I write them here so I don't ever forget them.
Monday, May 09, 2022
The 年号 system
Japan uses the Gregorian calendar (because everone else does), and is familiar with Western year numbering. However, it still uses the "nengou" (年号) regnal year system in some situations.
For example, Japanese hospitals issue ID cards for patients, and those ID cards list the patient's birthdate. However, instead of my birth year, it says 昭和50 (Showa 50), referring to the 50th year of Emperor Hirohito's reign.
Culturally, it can also refer to a certain generation. At this point, even the youngest person born in the Showa era (before 1989) is over 30 years old.
This is an online ad that I saw. It starts with 「白髪多い昭和生まれは」, meaning "people born in Showa with a lot of white hair..."
I thought that was interesting.
For example, Japanese hospitals issue ID cards for patients, and those ID cards list the patient's birthdate. However, instead of my birth year, it says 昭和50 (Showa 50), referring to the 50th year of Emperor Hirohito's reign.
Culturally, it can also refer to a certain generation. At this point, even the youngest person born in the Showa era (before 1989) is over 30 years old. This is an online ad that I saw. It starts with 「白髪多い昭和生まれは」, meaning "people born in Showa with a lot of white hair..."
I thought that was interesting.
Friday, May 06, 2022
My first trip to France: Epilogue
As I look back after 30 years, I have to consider how my first trip to France influenced my life.
At first, not much. I graduated high school without a clear idea what I wanted to do in life, so I went to community college for two years. It was during that time that I conceived a particular idea -- I wanted to get paid to travel to foreign countries. And I didn't want to just visit; I wanted to actually live in those places.
The first step was to the University of Hawai`i -- the farthest you can get away from the U.S. Mainland without leaving the United States. After that, it was South Korea. And by joining the Army, I went to Afghanistan and [back] to Korea. Then [back] to Hawaii. And in my role as a GS federal employee, I am now in Japan.
In a nutshell, it was my trip to France that helped set me on the path that I am still on to this day. I wanted to get paid to live and work in foreign countries, and that's what I do.
At first, not much. I graduated high school without a clear idea what I wanted to do in life, so I went to community college for two years. It was during that time that I conceived a particular idea -- I wanted to get paid to travel to foreign countries. And I didn't want to just visit; I wanted to actually live in those places.
The first step was to the University of Hawai`i -- the farthest you can get away from the U.S. Mainland without leaving the United States. After that, it was South Korea. And by joining the Army, I went to Afghanistan and [back] to Korea. Then [back] to Hawaii. And in my role as a GS federal employee, I am now in Japan.
In a nutshell, it was my trip to France that helped set me on the path that I am still on to this day. I wanted to get paid to live and work in foreign countries, and that's what I do.
Wednesday, March 23, 2022
A postcard, a picture, a friend, and a vacation
I attended the University of Hawaii in Hilo (ハワイ大学ヒロ校) in Fall 1995. While there, I met a student from Japan named Yuko Takahashi (高橋有子). That's her on the right in the yukata (浴衣).
Although I moved to O`ahu for the following spring semester, Yuko was nice enough to send me a postcard from a ski resort near her hometown during Christmas vacation. I don't recall ever returning the favor, but I've held onto this postcard ever since.
I didn't realize it when I went on vacation this past December, but that's the place I took my family -- the area near Echigo-Yuzawa station (越後湯沢駅). We even stayed at the Yuzawa Ski House (湯沢スキハウス), which is right next to that cable car station.
Without realizing it, we even rode that cable car on our first day there -- the Yuzawa Kogen Ropeway (湯沢高原ロープウェイ). The picture of the view at the top looks very similar to the background in the postcard.
I have no idea where Yuko Takahashi is these days, but I hope she is well. If given the chance, I would tell her that Niigata Prefecture (新潟県) is a wonderful place.
Although I moved to O`ahu for the following spring semester, Yuko was nice enough to send me a postcard from a ski resort near her hometown during Christmas vacation. I don't recall ever returning the favor, but I've held onto this postcard ever since.
I didn't realize it when I went on vacation this past December, but that's the place I took my family -- the area near Echigo-Yuzawa station (越後湯沢駅). We even stayed at the Yuzawa Ski House (湯沢スキハウス), which is right next to that cable car station.
Without realizing it, we even rode that cable car on our first day there -- the Yuzawa Kogen Ropeway (湯沢高原ロープウェイ). The picture of the view at the top looks very similar to the background in the postcard.
I have no idea where Yuko Takahashi is these days, but I hope she is well. If given the chance, I would tell her that Niigata Prefecture (新潟県) is a wonderful place.
You couldn't do it, but we've decided we want to.
Up until last year, I had two work-related retirement accounts. There was one from my active-duty Army time, and one from my federal civilian employee job. To simplify things, I decided it would be best to combine the two.
However, I ran into a problem. Way back in January 2011, I failed to discontinue my retirement contribution before I deployed to Afghanistan. As a result, there was 30-something tax-exempt dollars that *couldn’t* be combined. I called up the customer service line, but there was no way around it. I was stuck with two accounts, one of which had a mere 30-odd bucks in it.
It was irritating, but I reconciled myself to it. I let it go.
Well, today I got a check in the mail. It turns out that – because my account was less than $200 – they didn’t want to deal with it. So the U.S. Treasury sent me that money.
When I wanted to simplify things, the answer was no. But when the U.S. government wants to simplify things, you have no choice in the matter.
However, I ran into a problem. Way back in January 2011, I failed to discontinue my retirement contribution before I deployed to Afghanistan. As a result, there was 30-something tax-exempt dollars that *couldn’t* be combined. I called up the customer service line, but there was no way around it. I was stuck with two accounts, one of which had a mere 30-odd bucks in it.
It was irritating, but I reconciled myself to it. I let it go.
Well, today I got a check in the mail. It turns out that – because my account was less than $200 – they didn’t want to deal with it. So the U.S. Treasury sent me that money. When I wanted to simplify things, the answer was no. But when the U.S. government wants to simplify things, you have no choice in the matter.
Wednesday, February 23, 2022
What can PMP do? Not much.
Our HR section sent out a message today with a promising subject line: "Training Opportunity for ALL Personnel."
I like opportunities for professional development, so I opened it up. Sadly, it was about the Project Management Professional certification. This was disappointing, because 1) I'm already PMP certified, and 2) it's really just a waste of time.
By "waste of time," I mean that the benefits of getting and maintaining the PMP credential don't exceed the costs (in most cases). To illustrate, here's the slide that talks about the benefits to both the individual and the Army.
As I looked through each of these bullet points, you'll notice that none of them actually talk about actual benefits to to the Army, nor do they apply to current federal employees.
In my position, for example, I have received no benefit from my PMP certification. I haven't gotten any higher salary, nor have I gotten any different career opportunities. While a 25% higher paycheck *sounds* great, that's only in the private sector -- not the federal employee system.
There there are the costs -- both initial and recurring. There's the opportunity cost of the time you spend studying for the test, and the $400+ fee for the test itself. It's discounted a little if you become a PMI member, but it's still significant.
Then, to maintain certification, you have to invest more time in Professional Development Units. While there are free webinars one can watch online, there's also a "giving back" component that one must fill through some kind of volunteer work.
Part of the problem is that we're just not structured to take advantage of PMP-style talent. In the "Executive's Guide to Disciplined Agile" webinar, the speaker talks use a "race car engine" analogy. Every supervisor wants to have a high-speed race car engine, but race car engines don't do any good when you put them in a tractor. Further, even if you had a race car to put the race car engine in, it doesn't do any good unless you have access to a race track and a proper maintenance team.
In short, unless the system itself is designed to take advantage of talent, having talent is pointless.
By promoting talent in a system that doesn't reward it and can't take advantage of it, our HR section is, unwittingly, incentivizing us to go work somewhere else.
Monday, February 21, 2022
Building 533
Generally speaking, there are three things you can do with an old building:
However, in spite of these renovations, it became an anachronism. With indoor heating, having a fireplace in every room was no longer a feature. Going downstairs to use the kitchen was inconvenient. And the octagonal shape was just plain weird. Over time, it became a Frankenstein's monster of design compromises, to the point that it was simply not an enjoyable place to live.
Poplar Forest's saving grace was that Thomas Jefferson had owned it, so instead of being demolished, it became a museum. I remember visiting it in 2012.
On Camp Cama, there remain less than a handful of buildings from before September 1945, when the U.S. took control of the Imperial Japanese military academy. Building 533 is one of them. It was originally build as a barracks building, then converted into office space, and finally a recreation center.
Unfortunately, Building 533 is no longer useful. The activities that it used to host have found better buildings from which to operate. Its more modern addition (ironically) suffers from a mold infestation. And it lacks sufficient parking space for large groups to gather.
As a result, Building 533 is scheduled for demolition within the next couple years. I think this is somewhat sad, but I also think it is inevitable. The U.S. Army is not in the museum management business. Nor is the Japanese government interesting in keeping any reminders of the pre-war period. The building has, quite simply, outlived its usefulness.
Nevertheless, I still hope the wisteria tree survives. It was there in the 1930s, and it's still here, almost 90 years later.
- Renovate and repurpose it,
- Restore it to its original condition for use as a museum, and
- Demolish it.
However, in spite of these renovations, it became an anachronism. With indoor heating, having a fireplace in every room was no longer a feature. Going downstairs to use the kitchen was inconvenient. And the octagonal shape was just plain weird. Over time, it became a Frankenstein's monster of design compromises, to the point that it was simply not an enjoyable place to live.Poplar Forest's saving grace was that Thomas Jefferson had owned it, so instead of being demolished, it became a museum. I remember visiting it in 2012.
On Camp Cama, there remain less than a handful of buildings from before September 1945, when the U.S. took control of the Imperial Japanese military academy. Building 533 is one of them. It was originally build as a barracks building, then converted into office space, and finally a recreation center.
Unfortunately, Building 533 is no longer useful. The activities that it used to host have found better buildings from which to operate. Its more modern addition (ironically) suffers from a mold infestation. And it lacks sufficient parking space for large groups to gather.As a result, Building 533 is scheduled for demolition within the next couple years. I think this is somewhat sad, but I also think it is inevitable. The U.S. Army is not in the museum management business. Nor is the Japanese government interesting in keeping any reminders of the pre-war period. The building has, quite simply, outlived its usefulness.
Nevertheless, I still hope the wisteria tree survives. It was there in the 1930s, and it's still here, almost 90 years later.
Tuesday, December 14, 2021
What I've learned about my job
I've sometimes wondered why my job exists. I have no subordinates. I go to no regular meetings. I have no deliverables -- products that I create. I synthesize no new knowledge. I generate no analysis.
I am, in short, a lackey. In more military terms, I am an action officer. Stuff comes up, and I get assigned to "go take care of that."
For example, in summer 2020, I got assigned to manage the COVID-related supplies. In December last year, I went to Kumamoto to be "the guy on ground," even though there was actually nothing for me to do. And more recently, when we needed to contract out some work on a building to make it short-term-liveable, that became my project. So I keep busy; there's just no consistency to what I do from one month to the next.
As a result, my #1 responsibility is to "be available." If something happens, I have to be around so I can be told to take care of it. If the boss has a question, I have to be there so I can relay the message. Telework is not an option in my office because of this.
If it sounds ridiculous, it is, but there's a good reason why it came to be this way.
Back in the "fire and fury" days of 2017, there was a big focus on what would happen in Japan if things went badly with North Korea. During that time, my section worked a lot of overtime developing plans for a "what if" scenario. It was so much overtime, in fact, that a manpower study justified creating a new position. That was how my job came to be.
As time went by, though, the big boss switched out, and other priorities replaced the focus on contingency plans. Those "what if" scenarios fell by the wayside.
So now, instead of me actually doing what my position description says, I just come in and do what I'm told. And if I'm not told anything, well ... I stay busy regardless.
Back when I was on active duty, it would have bothered me. Now, however, I'm beyond he point where I have to chase down dragons to slay -- it's no longer my job to create new priorities. I'll do what I'm told, and I'll do the best job I can, but I'm no longer interested in going "above and beyond."
I've learned there's no value in creating things that can't be sustained after I'm gone.
I am, in short, a lackey. In more military terms, I am an action officer. Stuff comes up, and I get assigned to "go take care of that."
For example, in summer 2020, I got assigned to manage the COVID-related supplies. In December last year, I went to Kumamoto to be "the guy on ground," even though there was actually nothing for me to do. And more recently, when we needed to contract out some work on a building to make it short-term-liveable, that became my project. So I keep busy; there's just no consistency to what I do from one month to the next.
As a result, my #1 responsibility is to "be available." If something happens, I have to be around so I can be told to take care of it. If the boss has a question, I have to be there so I can relay the message. Telework is not an option in my office because of this.
If it sounds ridiculous, it is, but there's a good reason why it came to be this way.
Back in the "fire and fury" days of 2017, there was a big focus on what would happen in Japan if things went badly with North Korea. During that time, my section worked a lot of overtime developing plans for a "what if" scenario. It was so much overtime, in fact, that a manpower study justified creating a new position. That was how my job came to be.
As time went by, though, the big boss switched out, and other priorities replaced the focus on contingency plans. Those "what if" scenarios fell by the wayside.
So now, instead of me actually doing what my position description says, I just come in and do what I'm told. And if I'm not told anything, well ... I stay busy regardless.
Back when I was on active duty, it would have bothered me. Now, however, I'm beyond he point where I have to chase down dragons to slay -- it's no longer my job to create new priorities. I'll do what I'm told, and I'll do the best job I can, but I'm no longer interested in going "above and beyond."
I've learned there's no value in creating things that can't be sustained after I'm gone.
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