We may have been in the Japanese Highlands, but it was humid enough to be Louisiana.

I was with B Company, 100^th Infantry Battalion / 442^nd Regimental Combat Team Reenactment Group for the annual summer training and this year’s camp was inspired by the training at the Louisiana Maneuver Area that the real life 100^th Infantry Battalion (Separate) participated in before shipping out for Italy. It may not have been swampland, at least not until the rain started, but it was nearing 100 degrees with an almost swimmable amount of moisture in the air.

When I joined B Co. last summer it was for an exercise based loosely on the July 1944 attack on Hill 140 near Castellina, Italy. It entailed tactical movement, foxhole digging, scouting and charging uphill at dawn. Our training this time was more fundamental, marching and drilling.

We arrived early at the NMVA grounds near Fuji, Shizuoka Prefecture.  NMVA is the National Military Vehicle Association and is a group that collects real, operational World War II and Cold War-era vehicles. Their area amounted to a large clearing in the forest beside a national park. We shared the space with a collection of old Japan Ground Self-Defense Force vehicles.

Because this was a pre-deployment exercise our load out was reflective of what was issued in 1942, which was barely improved from what soldiers began the war with. The guys broke out their World War I-era field gear, and dressed out in HBTs and the denim blue M1937 work uniforms you rarely see reenactors wear outside of coastal artillerymen. Unlike last time I didn’t have to scramble for ‘new’ equipment, it was all items I’ve collected for the 1941 Philippine Scout presentation that led me to finding these guys in the first place.

Reenactors are a detail oriented lot and so we looked over each other’s gear, seeing who brought what and whether it was original or reproduction. It’s a learning experience that helps us all do better in the future and that’s really why we come out here, besides the chance to hang out with our friends in oppressive heat and march around the woods with toy guns until it rains.

This year’s camp was a bit bigger than before; this time we had a field kitchen, a mess hall and two-man tents to set up. Everything except the soldier’s tents was in a clearing at the bottom of the hill; the tents were on top of it.

We began setting up at 9 a.m., but with everything we’d brought it took all morning, though that was in the schedule. Since my command of Japanese is pretty poor I just took pictures and moved things where they wanted them moved as the guys had to work together to erect the large tents.

We also had two more photographers, Hayashi, who I met last year, and Manba Ken who brought in his original World War II still and moving photography equipment.  His cameras were a small Leica, a Graflex Speed Graphic, which is the iconic camera favored by news photographers for almost half a century, and an Eye-mo 35mm film camera. I’d purchased a Speed Graphic earlier in the year but had no idea how to work it; I didn’t bring it but wish I had as he showed me how to operate his. As it was, the only original camera I’d brought with me to practice with was an Argus C2 manufactured in 1940. Hayashi brought an Argus brick as well. Ken also gave me some World War II-vintage Japanese stamps featuring Gen. Nogi Maresuke, the Russo-Japanese war hero, on them. I’d never seen Japanese stamps from that era so I appreciated it and it’s since started me on trying to find more domestic Japanese items that I can use in my presentations.

Most of the guys here did infantry training so I was happy for the opportunity to get proper cameraman training. Beside the formation work, individuals also taught each other the fine details of packing the old M1910 haversack, quite possibly the worst backpack ever designed and then forced on an army for 50 years. There’s an art to packing it, layering on the additional bits like the meat can pouch, shovel carrier and bayonet scabbard then strapping the whole thing closed.

The M1910 and later M1928 (same system with slight changes) are a belt and pack combination, meaning the pack needs the belt to hold it up. The pack also flops open like a hobo’s sack- the top, bottom and sides all get pulled shut together to make a pack and so getting things out of it requires taking the whole combination off and laying it on the ground, undoing the straps and opening it all up. It’s like bad idea fairy got black out drunk with hobos and this mess was what it came up with.

We broke for lunch after set up was complete. Today’s menu was hot dogs with sauerkraut, the meat byproduct of champions. Our friendly neighborhood American Red Cross representative also joined us for lunch and mail call.

Bob Buker was in Japan to visit family with his wife, but made the time to join us dressed in a Red Cross uniform and carrying a 70 year old mail bag. He’s been reenacting since 1978 and mostly does impressions based on U.S. GI recreation and morale, such as USO, Red Cross and Army Post Office. He first came across B Co. in a similar way I did and connected with them via Facebook. Impressed with their dedication and attention to detail he decided to come out and meet the group.

“I was able to visit them this past January and August and it has moved me to be a better reenactor, researcher, and to up my living history standards,” he said of B Co. “One of my goals is to have a similar training program with no public but high authenticity standards.”

Lunch was my first encounter with the fire-breathing dishwasher. We had three metal trashcans filled with water set up; two with gasoline-powered heaters that were entertaining to watch get lit off as they blew fire to get started. Once the water was warm and soapy we’d take our mess kits over and rinse them in each can. The other guys had it easy- though using the WWI meat cans, they had the M1926 utensils with the loop, so you can mount them on the meat can tongue and wash it all at once. I’d brought my M1910 utensils, which pre-dated practicality so I had to wash everything individually. Thankfully I didn’t slow up the line.

After lunch the bugle sounded and Buker began mail call, giving out mail ‘from home.’ Buker went all out for accuracy on these, including proper postage marks for letters sent in 1942 and repro stamps with the Pan Am Clipper on them. The guys also Americanized themselves for their mail, as they were are supposed to Hawaiian-born Nisei, their mail sometimes had American names, like “Terry” for “Taisuke,” and they used plausible Hawaiian return addresses, which would have been accurate for the Territory of Hawaii at the time.

Buker (left) holds mail call.

(I’d done the same with my dog tags and used the real address for the first tiki bar, Don the Beachcomber, for my home of record. Historic side note, a few Filipino employees of Don’s did this when they were drafted, since they had no other home to list.)

This was pretty hilarious as Buker’s wife and her friends wrote letters and postcards to go in the envelopes and the guys hammed it up when reading them, acting as if they’d been away for sooo long and leaning over to see what the guy next to him got.

When the mail was sorted he also brought out a box of vintage books and items to pass out like gum with repro wrappers, original unused food can labels and small tins with brand-names on them. They don’t sound like much but these are the small details that help make reenacting better and it was a real treasure trove for us to go through. Unfortunately because of his car situation he couldn’t stay all night but it was an interesting addition to the day. The guys lined up and sang the 100^th Infantry fight song to see him off.

(Whenever I come to these things I never know what to musically expect. Last time it was a Japanese ‘German’ playing Panzerlied on a violin at lunch.)

With the fun out of the way the rest of the afternoon was spent practicing drills and marching in formation in preparation for a late afternoon hike through the woods. The drills were halted briefly when the rain set in to don raincoats but continued.

The morning had been hot and humid, but the weather had shifted, likely due to the non-stop storms hitting Japan in August, and for the rest of our time it would be overcast with intermittent rain.

Once they’d drilled to Sgt. Tsurumi’s satisfaction, it was time for the march with packs and its marches like these that make me thankful I’m a photographer. It was late afternoon, the rain petered out and because it was later it had gotten cooler.

The original plan was to do a few laps through a wooded path in the national park for about two hours, but the terrain was more difficult than expected for civilians unaccustomed to such exertion and then the fog set in and night began to fall making it unnecessarily dangerous to continue this way. I’m also pretty sure this is how a horror movie begins.

After the first lap through the woods we followed a more level course near the camp and did our remaining laps through there. At first it was quiet; few people spoke besides the occasion command to pause for a water break, but after awhile the singing began. I think it was one or two at first, then more would join in and we’d randomly go through old songs with half-remembered words or just group humming to a song we all kind of knew.

We returned to camp just before dark and the guys went up the hills to put up the rest of their tents. Army tents of the era where two-man affairs; each soldier was issued half a tent with rope and stakes and would have to work with a second soldier to set up a complete tent.

Dinner was more robust than lunch. It was an odd combination of steak, vegetables, oatmeal and a ring of pineapple. We spent the evening killing time in conversation as wherever you’re from old action films and good music are universal. Rain began to fall again and this time it got very heavy.

Some of the guys opted to go back up hill to their tents in the maelstrom but a bunch of us disassembled the table tops and laid them on the muddy ground as makeshift beds. It was warm so I rolled up my wool blanket and used it for a pillow.

The next morning was a mess; everything was soaked and covered in mud. The rain had stopped but was threatening to pick up in force again so our exercising was cut short to pack everything up before it did. The mud slowed down the work and we had to get everything clean and dry to pack after a quick chicken brunch.

Once camp was squared away we could continue and perform the last piece of the exercise, physical training. Everyone who could put on Camp McCoy T-shirt and brown PT shorts for stretches followed by a vigorous boots & geta run.

It was an enjoyable weekend and I think we all came away from it wiser and muddier than when we went in. This is the third time I’ve gotten together with B Co., last time was for the Maizuru sakura planting last March, and I look forward to whatever we do next.