The Japanese sergeant in charge of the small garrison watching munitions and gasoline hidden in Prospect Grove is a likeable chap; kindly but disciplined. Maurice and I saw him slap a soldier a week ago, and at the time we felt revulsion at the method but not the man. Anyway, he's a good sport. Today he chased after Maurice to warn him to keep his chickens under guard lest his soldiers grab one now and then, though he denies any knowledge of them taking Maurice's splendid pig. During raids, he's been known to go to the Chiudian house, which has a clear view of the Bay from the back. He doesn't mind you watching the planes with binoculars — a habit, which if seen by another soldier, could land you in Fort Santiago. In fact, he'll borrow your binoculars to have a look too. He understands what so many Japanese fail to understand: The people are inherently friendly. Lacking the suspicious nature of most other Japanese soldiers, he gets along well with everyone — always smiling — sometimes forlornly, though he brightens up when anyone he recognizes passes by. He may be a simple man, but he isn't by any means dumb.

Today he was talking to the Gonzales family about expenses: "You [spend] only P50 each day for milk? I [earn] only P47 per month!" Gonzalez politely pointed out, though, that he got his food for free every day. "Ah yes, yes," replied the sergeant. "Me, very much food ... getting fat. Pretty soon many Americans come, then I..." he made a disemboweling motion in true Japanese style: in, across, then up. Everyone understood that he knew what was coming. But then, so did the polite census-taker, who once suggested: "Maybe, when war is over, you come to Japan — to study with me?" Then the serious look: "Ah — If I leave" ... followed by the inevitable: "D'ye understand?" No doubt he had been a professor.

Few Japanese are like these two I've just described. Countless mix-ups occurred because an officer or sentry was just too suspicious. Only recently, the Japanese borrowed Gaskel's two old trucks and his reliable drivers. One of them always carried a bayong. The other day, a sentry told an officer he saw the driver using a long spyglass that he kept in his bayong. The officer asked for him a few minutes after the trucks were returned — and he was right there. "Yes sir? But no sir! Here is my bayong!" The officer wouldn't even look at it or let him show it to the accusing sentry. Well, someone may have been spying on Nichols Field from Baclaran, but not this poor fellow. He hasn't been seen since. Mere suspicion nowadays could get you tied to a post for two days. What the Japanese fail to understand is how that casts them in a bad light.

...ooOoo...