George had notified some Army buddies in Hawaii that he was headed that way. One of his buddies had arranged for George to stay with his parents while he was applying for the job at Ft Shafter.
He was greeted by the group as he arrived at the airport and taken through the Honolulu harbor area, over the Nuuanu Pali highway, across the island to Kailua on the windward side of the Oahu island. There, one of his buddy’s parents showed George to a small bedroom in a large, modern home. That evening, a huge Japanese-style dinner was prepared by a Japanese lady, and served by her.
The next day, the group took George sightseeing all over the island, including Kalakaua Avenue with all of the famous hotels on the beach of Waikiki, the pink Royal Hawaiian overshadowing them all. He had never seen such a beautiful place before. While George had passed through Hawaii in transit to somewhere else, he had never been able to take time to look. The day following, they went to Ala Moana public beach where there were no hotels, and George tried his hand at surfing — unsuccessfully. The old-fashioned surfboard was taller than George and almost as heavy. Every time he got upright on the board, he ended up tumbling into the surf, gaining a few bumps and bruises to his head and body.
Along the beach were stalls with Chinese, Japanese, Hawaiian, and Portuguese specialties. The surfing may have been a disaster, but the eating was a huge success, as was George’s introduction to the beautiful island of Hawaii.
I write of George’s experiences in Hawaii in my book: The Colonel George Trofimoff Story, the tale of America’s highest ranking military officer convicted of spying
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