Thursday was the last day of work for arold “Pappy” Jarrell, second from right, who has become a Yokosuka icon after 30 years on base. He is shown with his NEX mini-mart co-workers Miki Murakami, left, Florence Rio, second from left, and Merly Dossantos. (Allison Batdorff / S&S)
YOKOSUKA NAVAL BASE, Japan — Harold Jarrell says he is one of Yokosuka’s last tunnel rats.
But no one calls him that. Nor do they call him Harold or Jarrell. The grandfatherly gentleman in the blue Navy Exchange apron instead goes by “Pappy.”
And after 30 years in Yokosuka, Pappy Jarrell is headed home. His retirement party was Friday at Yokosuka, where he was fondly remembered — as Jarrell forgets no one.
Jarrell said he’s “pretty good” at remembering faces, and with 30 years in the Navy as a senior chief petty officer and another 25 as a Yokosuka civilian, he remembers many.
He said his “kids” run into him all the time at the Navy Exchange Autoport, where he works as the mini-mart supervisor.
“I’ve been here so long, I know their families and their families’ families,” Jarrell said. “I know their grandkids.”
The 76-year-old recalls names and dates like a history book – for example, Rear Adm. James D. Cossey, the fellow who gave Pappy his nickname.
“He told me I was the only man on the base older than he was and called me Pappy,” Jarrell recounted. “I guess it stuck.”
He remembers Yokosuka in the 1950s when the Daiei Mall was a fishing boat repair shop, the commissary was afloat, and Briggs Bay was underwater.
He retired from Naval Forces Japan in 1982, when the command was underground in Yokosuka’s caves — hence, “tunnel rat.”
“It’s a lot different now,” Jarrell said. “When I first got here, Yokosuka had a population of about 3,000 people. They’ve been building up ever since.”
He remembers a time when relations with the Japanese were not as friendly as they are now – and that his Japanese wife, Kimie, was worried about introducing him to her family. They were together 42 years before Jarrell lost her to cancer in 1995.
Born in 1931, Jarrell recalls growing up at a time when “a boiled potato was good living.”
He remembers setting up refugee camps for fleeing Vietnamese in 1973 as a Navy customs agent and losing 22 people to sickness, while another 122 were born.
He remembers losing his Japanese home — and decades of memories — to arson in 1993.
He remembers sailing on many vessels, from “souped-up tin cans” to guided-missile destroyers.
But mostly, he remembers the importance of getting “the coffee pot on” and extending a hand in friendship.
“You help people, and they help you,” Jarrell said. “That’s what we’re here for.”
And in turn, Jarrell will be remembered by those who know him.
Co-worker Merly Dossantos lamented the loss of Pappy’s miso soup, which he made for all the Autoport employees a couple of times a week.
“We’re sad and hungry already,” she said Thursday.
Others will miss his trademark, no-frills, generous spirit. Pappy was always quick to help someone install their windshield wiper blades or jump-start a car.
“He treats everyone with kindness,” said Florence Rio, another co-worker.
Jarrell leaves Tuesday to return to his home state of Kentucky, where he bought a spot of land where he can watch the deer, he said.
“I used to hunt but, after two wars, I’ve lost the taste for killing,” Jarrell said. “I just like to see how close I can get to them now.”
And, ever the genial gent, he’ll make sure his guests — the deer — are fed and comfortable.
“I’ll put out some salt, so they’ll stop for a while,” Jarrell said.
