SeattleFreeze☆Sheen

In 1944, thousands of Japanese on Saipan hid in caves, sure the Americans would torture them if they came out. Many families chose the cliffs instead. An 18-year-old American Marine from East Los Angeles walked up to those caves at night, alone, and called to them in Japanese. His name was Guy Gabaldon. He was a Mexican American kid who had grown up partly in the home of a Japanese American family, the Nakanos. That is where he picked up his Japanese. When the war came, the Nakanos were sent to internment camps. Their twin sons, Lane and Lyle, joined the U.S. Army anyway and served in the 442nd. Fifty years later, he still said it plainly: "These were Americans." On Saipan, Gabaldon was a scout with the 2nd Marine Regiment. Right after landing, he slipped off on his own and came back with prisoners. His commanding officer, Capt. John Schwabe, threatened him with a court-martial for leaving his post. The next night, he came back with about fifty. After that, they let him go out alone. He crawled to the cave mouths in the dark and promised the people inside water, medical care, and that nobody would hurt them. Night after night, ten or twenty at a time, they followed him out. On July 8, by his own account, about 800 came out in a single day. Schwabe remembered that day too. It was the day they tagged him the Pied Piper of Saipan. Not everyone listened. At the cliffs, he begged a mother not to kill her child. He watched her throw the baby and jump. He was still talking about it fifty years later. His Navy Cross citation says that on Saipan and Tinian he brought in "well over one thousand enemy civilians and troops." Schwabe recommended him for the Medal of Honor. He received the Silver Star. Sixteen years later, after Hollywood made a movie about him, the Navy upgraded it to the Navy Cross. He died in 2006 and is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. I am Japanese. Those caves were full of my people, frightened, starving, and certain that the Americans were monsters. An American teenager walked toward them in the dark and offered them water. On this Veterans Day, Japan should know his name.

Doing laundry at a neighborhood laundromat in Japan feels like stepping twenty years into the future. First, you don't bring soap, and you don't sit on a plastic chair for forty minutes waiting to move wet clothes from a washer into a dryer so nobody touches your laundry. You toss your dirty clothes into a single heavy-duty drum, tap a 4-digit PIN code onto the touchscreen to lock the glass door, and pay about $6 (900 yen). The machine injects its own detergent, washes everything, and immediately switches into a high-powered gas dryer inside the exact same drum. You walk away for an hour to eat ramen and come back to hot, fluffy clothes locked safely behind your PIN. Even better? Right in the corner sits a dedicated $1.30 (200 yen) sneaker washing machine with soft spiral nylon brushes inside the tub, paired with a twin-nozzle shoe dryer right above it.