With Hawaii's Aja Boys at Camp Shelby Mississippi

              spread out here and there over
miles of country. Officers, afoot or
in blacked-out jeeps, prowled
around, looking for lights that might
furnish tell-tale, disastrous information to an enemy—and these soldiers are training to meet a real
enemy.
Voices were subdued—also for
precautionary reasons. At mess
time the clanking of aluminum
kits sounded faintly, like distant
cowbells. This practice for the
test of real combat will reduce
even those sounds.
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Moonlight flooded the meadows
with a pale light, and cast dark
shadows through the pine woods.
There were soldiers everywhere—
three battalions of them. The woods
were literally full of them. But you
seldom saw them, until you joined
one platoon or another. Their
fatigue uniforms seemed part of the
grass, the trees and the huckleberry
bushes.
Moonlight, silence and the unseen
presence of hidden troops made it
seem unreal. The only persistent
sound was the whirring of locusts
in the tree tops.
Mess sergeants set up their field
kitchens in shadows under the trees,
and cooked by whatever moonlight
filtered through the branches, or
by the red light of "blackout" lamps.
Boys to whom a luau is a more
familiar experience than this,
moved forward in columns to get
their food. They sat down on the
grass to eat, and talked in murmured conversation.
n tt tt
Somewhere in the woods we ran
across a group of men, who turned
out to be headquarters company of
the 1st battalion. We picked a man
out at random. He was sitting on a
tree stump, eating.
We asked him if he were from
Hawaii.
He is Lt. Robert Y. Katsuki of
1817 Wilhelmina Rise, a well
known Honolulu physician prior
to war, now 1st battalion surgeon.
He told us the health of his men
is excellent.
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Another man came up.
"Heard somebody was here from
The Star-Bulletin," he said.
He was Capt. John T. Earnest,
commanding officer of the company,
formerly sales manager for the
Schuman Carriage Co. in Honolulu,
and an ex-ROTC instructor at the
University of Hawaii.
"The   boys   from   home   have
proved  themselves  willing,  alert
and   intelligent,"   he   said.    "The
people back in Hawaii might be
interested   to   know   that   every
Hawaii man in the entire combat
team, without a single exception,
has taken out soldier's insurance.
In every case it has been for the
maximum amount, $10,000 a man.
The rates are low."
Half a mile away from headquarters  company  of the  1st. battalion
we found company A, also of the
1st.   Private Paul Tamura of 759-J
Laniwai   St.,   Honolulu,   who   used
to   work   for   the   Hawaiian   Tuna
Packers, said, "It's fun, but pretty
tough.   The only thing that bothers
me is chiggers."
We got into a jeep with Lt. Col.
V. R. Miller, who is the regimental executive officer. A regular
army man, he has served many
years at Schofield barracks. With
us was Capt. Ivan Kovac, who is
plans and training officer for the
regiment.
The soldier at the wheel of the
jeep was Private First Class Sam
Fujikawa. His home is at 1718 Ya-
mada lane, Honolulu.
We found Maj. S. L. Watts, 1st
battalion commander, giving instructions to his vehicle drivers.
"The men in this battalion are
tough," he said. "We don't drop a
one of them on marches. They
will march four miles in 50
minutes, carrying pack, rifle and
helmet.   That's about 80 pounds.
"When they hit the last 100 yards
of the four miles, somebody's apt
to say, 'Let's go doubletime,' and
off they sprint. That's esprit de
corps.
"I didn't start them on these conditioning marches with full equipment. They just wore their uniforms and helmets at first. Later
on their guns. Finally, the whole
outfit." ^)*J
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A  soldier  nearby  turned  out to
be    Private    First    Class    Richard
[7J