Long Ago and Far Away Sixteen years old and going off to war. The year, 1943. Joining the U.S. NAVY and leaving home for the first time ever to the greatest adventure of my life with the exception of my marriage and my family. The path I followed led me to many places, some good, some not so good, culminating in an experience in the jungles of Mindineoa in the Philippine Islands just at the end of World War II in September 1945 that left a lasting impression on me. The ship I sailed on, a Destroyer, The USS NIBLACK, in company with the Destroyer, USS EDISON, having finished an escort duty of the Fifth Marine division to Sasebo Japan for occupation, was ordered to the Philippine Islands for further escort duty. We anchored in a quiet Lagoon in one hundred twenty feet of water, so clear the bottom seemed close enough to touch, and our Captain allowed us a "swim" call twice a day off the ship. Liberty was an impossibility, the next best thing was to allow groups of men to go ashore and "stretch" our legs on the sandy beaches. The Jungles in that area still contained small groups of Japanese Soldiers and we were cautioned not to venture inland. My friend, Hamilton and myself went ashore on one of the first boatloads of men and contrary to what we had been told not to do we found and followed a trail leading into the jungle and we set-out to see where it would lead us. After walking for quite a distance we were suddenly confronted by a dozen or so men in tattered, torn clothes, each of them carried a wicked looking machete in his hand. One of the men in the group could speak a little English and he made it clear they meant us no harm and wanted us to follow them, which we did. Following the group and not knowing what to expect we arrived on the edge of a small bay and along the edges were thatched huts built on stilts and farther up the trail stood a small group of people and they were standing beside an open grave and on the edge of the grave there rested a crude wooden coffin with a tattered American Flag lying on top of it. The man that had led us here stepped up with another person that could speak much better English and then were we made aware of the reason of our being brought here. The body in the coffin was that of one of their villagers, a man thirty years of age. A Philippine soldier that had served as a scout in the US ARMY. He had recently returned to his village and his wife after being away for several years living in the jungle and fighting the Japanese. He returned home sick with malaria , the mosquitos did to him what the Japanese couldn't do and before he died he made it known that he had served with the Americans and he would like to have Americans to be a part of his burial. When the two American Ships anchored in the lagoon the village men set-out to find an American to be in attendance at his funeral and Hamilton and myself happened along and would we be a part? What could we say, we were here and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that we would refuse. We told the man we would be happy to take part. Here we were, Hamilton and myself, I an eighteen year-old and Hamilton only a year older and never having taken an active part in anything like this. The men gathered around and four of them jumped into the open grave while several others handed the coffin down to them and they gently set it in place and leveled it up, climbed out and stood silently by. Several people said words and threw handfuls of sand onto the coffin. The spokesman then asked me if I would say something and I had to accept even if it meant no one would understand my words. I removed my hat and commenced talking, I said things like him being a patriot, a hero, a brave man and after I finished I put my hat back on and looking-up and at the people standing around the grave, tears were pouring down their cheeks and they had smiles on their faces and I looked at Hamilton and there were tears in his eyes and it was then I realized there were tears in my eyes. These simple people who had suffered so much at the hands of the Japanese for so many years were shedding tears of joy because one of their own had his dying wish fulfilled, he had been recognized and remembered and that was all that mattered. We left that gravesite, headed to the lagoon to catch the whale boat back to the ship and the next day we upped-anchor and left, never to return. That incident has stayed with me all these years and I often reflect on that time in my life and I am glad it was me on the jungle trail that day many years ago and they chose me, "LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY". Bud Garner