The record changer (Mar 1946-Feb 1947)

Bill Young found himself on Guam Island shortly before Pearl Harbor, and the first thing he knew, the Japs got him. Some of the experiences of his 44 month confinement he wants least to forget are as follows . . . n P ■ ii Ot! tit Arriving in Kobe on Jan. 22, 1942, seventy-four of us were housed in the Seaman's Mission, an English supported sailors' home located in the bund or warehouse district of this large Japanese port city. Cramped as we were, the place had a small library in it and a phonograph. Eagerly we seized this music-machine and the stack of records nearby. For in a month and a half of imprisonment, we had not heard any American music. Alas ! Most of the discs were English dinner and religious music, or continental (principally German) strains. A few notable exceptions, no doubt dragged in by some unruly and recalcitrant American gobs prior to Pearl Harbor, were Gypsy From Poughkcepsic, Sugar Rose, Toodle Ooo Till Tomorrow and Sunny Side of the Street. We played these records until they were actually worn out ! Our enthusiasm was soon dampened, however, by restrictions placed upon us by the Guards. They decided that we were hearing altogether too much American music, and they limited our phonograph playing to two hours a day, at their (the Japs') option. The "Mission" had a piano — frazzled and worn, and slightly out of tune ; some of our boys could play, and quite well, too, but the thing that nettled us was the endless stream of 16 tder i By Bill Young visitors (Japanese) who, curious, came in to look at us. And it remained a source of unending amazement to us that nearly every Jap, regardless of his station in life, would come over to the piano and play Auld Lang Sync and Home Sweet Home. Visiting policemen, soldiers, business men, busboys, and even the laundryman could all play the piano at least to that extent. Music, both by phonograph and piano, complicated our living aplenty ! The "Mission" had a chapel, separated by a paper-thin wall from the aforementioned music-room and library. Ten of our seventy-four prisoners were Catholic priests. On Sundays, the services inside the chapel were often accompanied by the tuneful Gypsy From Poughkeepsie, or Sugar Rose, the strains of which filtered through the wall. Or perhaps the prayers would be interrupted by the mournful wail of a poker-player, calling irreverently upon God to improve his luck ! This disturbance worked both ways, however. Everyone who remained outside the chapel was, because of the acoustics, an "unwilling church-goer," and at times the chanting of the priests well-nigh drowned out the words and music to On the Sunny Side of the Street. At other times the blessings being invoked from the inside of the chapel distracted th< attentions of the poker-players anc thoroughly upset the shattered nerves of the "shark" who was concentrat ing upon the problem of whether tc raise the bet two-yen, or merely call And so it went, day in, day out foi 8^4 months while we were caged up in the "Mission." Then we wen moved to a camp in another section of the city of Kobe. Alas ! Neither our phonograph nor our library, such as it was, accom panied us. We asked permission to take both with us, but we were denied, the privilege. It was a catastrophe of the first order. But our misfortune was due to our inexperience in dealing with the Japs and our own failure at that time to know how to work around them. That and the fact that all Jap anese seemed to have an inherent sense for "graft" or "cumshaw," and they were able to augment their slender salaries only by putting the squeeze on salable objects from time to time. Thus the finger was put on; our phonograph and we were left without music. How great a part does music play in maintaining the morale and spirit of prisoners? Its influence and value varies with the individual. The six weeks we were without music nearly drove some of us crazy, while there THE RECORD CHANGER UK i K t:fl Hit tin ipr