Each page below is a card — your words on top, the journal line they came from underneath. Press ✎ Edit the words to fix any page. Happy with it? Press Looks good. Want a different take? Re-draft below.
Page 1
The fighting was over. Wayne Wilberg and his fellow Marines had come to Japan as part of the occupation — keeping the peace now that the guns had gone quiet. The base was calm, but out in the hills, something else was waiting.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“During this occupation, they met very little resistance during the beginning... The taking care of these children was one of the major projects facing the occupation forces after the surrender of Japan.”
Page 2
The children had been sent to the hills to get away from the fighting. Many were lost. But some survived — hungry, frightened, alone. One day, Wayne's group found a boy. Twelve years old. Thin as a reed. His eyes said everything his words could not.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“Their parents were shot and killed. The kids were sent to the hills to get away from the fighting. They eventually were starved out. Many of them ended up dieing. The army started to gather the kids up and try to help them. One time my group picked up a 12-year boy and took him back to the base...”
Page 3
Wayne reached into his pocket and held out a candy bar. The boy stared at it. He had probably not eaten in days. Then — he took it. "We gave him a candy bar and he gobbled it up."
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“We gave him a candy bar and he gobbled it up.”
Page 4
That night, the men made up their minds. "We made him a bed and snuck him in," Wayne said. They tucked the boy away and looked at each other — because they all knew the rule. "If they found out we had him, we would have been court-martialed."
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“We made him a bed and snuck him in. If they found out we had him we would have been court marshaled.”
Page 5
The boy stayed. There were no shared words between them — no English, no Japanese — but there were nods, and pointing, and shy smiles. Little by little, he learned the shape of the base. Little by little, he began to help.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“He did some labor work for us.”
Page 6
Then the men had an idea. They brought the boy inside and showed him the telephone. Wayne pointed to the phone. He pointed to the boy. He pointed outside, and waved his arms. The boy watched every move. He understood: if it rings — you run.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“We had him set by the phone and listen for it to ring. If it would ring he was to quickly run outside and yell to us that the phone was ringing. He couldn't speak any English.”
Page 7
The boy sat very still. He watched the telephone the way a cat watches a bird. He didn't know a single word of English. He didn't know what to say when the men came running. He only knew one thing: the moment it rings, you go.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“He couldn't speak any English. He would run out and yell, 'telle, telle, telle' until someone would go answer it.”
Page 8
RING. The boy shot off that stool like a firecracker. He burst through the door, bare feet slapping the dirt, arms pumping, racing across the yard as fast as his legs could carry him.
Bridge text — written to connect the story; no single journal line behind this page
Page 9
"Telle! Telle! Telle!" he hollered, running and running until a Marine jogged over to answer. Everyone stopped. Everyone stared. Then someone laughed. And then everyone laughed — because there was nothing else to do. "He would run out and yell, 'telle, telle, telle' until someone would go answer it."
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“He would run out and yell, "telle, telle, telle" until someone would go answer it.”
Page 10
After that, every time the telephone rang, the boy ran. "Telle! Telle! Telle!" The men stopped listening for the phone. They listened for him instead. His voice — that one flying word — had become the sound of the whole base.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“He would run out and yell, 'telle, telle, telle' until someone would go answer it.”
Page 11
Then one morning, the day came. The men packed their bags and walked to the docks. Wayne carried his pack and looked back toward the base — toward the hut, toward the telephone, toward everything the boy had made feel like home.
From your journal · prints on the back pages
“The day we shipped home from the war, he was standing on the docks waving goodbye to us.”
Page 12
The boy was standing on the docks. He did not run. He did not shout. He only raised his hand — and waved, and waved, and waved, until the ship was too far away to see. Wayne watched until he couldn't anymore. Some things don't need any words at all. "The day we shipped home from the war, he was standing on the docks waving goodbye to us."
From your journal
“The day we shipped home from the war, he was standing on the docks waving goodbye to us.”
From the sourceAdapted from sourceBridge text
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Behind the story
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Where this story came from
This note prints on the last page of every book in this collection, so a reader can trace it to its source — set once for the whole series. It shows in the 3D preview and the printed PDF.
This book was drawn from the journals, kept 1944-2013.