more old man hijinks and WW2

Time is ticking away.
Friday night i went to a little place i found when i first arrived for dinner. It is in the bar district near my house and owned by an older husband and wife, and they serve pretty traditional Japanese food. I was only there about 3 other times, and i got vegetable tempura all those times--they already knew about my diet and the fact that i could speak some Japanese, and therefore were not afraid of me. When i walked in, i sat next to a skinny middle-aged man finishing his dinner at the bar. Behind us were a Western-style table with chairs and next to it, tatami-matting and several cushions beneath a Japanese-style low table. The man was obviously nervous, and the owner said something about Italy so the man asked if i was Italian, and i answered no, that i am American, and he apologized profusely. I then began to try to converse with him, though he spoke very fast and nervously and was apparently quite drunk, as he nearly tipped over my miso soup bowl while performing an expressive action with his arms. Shortly after i arrived, an old man came in with a friend and sat down next to me. He said to me in English, "Your name is Jamie, right?" I said yes, and he said, "I know you, yes, I know you very well." I was puzzled but i remained unsurprised. I finally asked him how he knew me, and he told me not to worry about that. Then he said something about Germany, and began to ask me questions about it, and it finally clicked. He was the man who gave Yuuki and i directions when we were trying to find the artsy cafe a couple of weeks ago. He remarked then how i looked German, as he was trying to guess my nationality (which is a celebrated past-time here), and i simply affirmed that i was, to avoid any complication and to ensure that no more English would be thrown my way. But by this point he knew i could speak English, though he was still convinced i was German. I was busy entertaining him by pronouncing several German words, whereupon he would laugh deeply and try to repeat them, then insist that i clink beer glasses with him (at this point i had felt compelled to order one too). We must've clinked glasses at least thirty times, because every time he looked at me he raised his glass with a threatening look on his face, as if to say, 'If you know what's good for you, clink the glass.' As he spoke English, he would force an unnatural grin upon his face and look either straight through me or at a point in space just beyond my face. He needed time to think of words every so often, and would sit there grinning deeply and staring until he found the word, and when he spoke he would enunciate in all the wrong places. The other man, who could not speak much English aside from simple sentences, was complaining to me about English study, and then began to talk to me about world war 2 after he learned i went to Hiroshima and visited the museum. I smiled and nodded as this man spoke, but i only understood the simplest points he was trying to make. Eventually, after the woman cook was confused about my ambiguous nationality, i had to invent a story in which i was German but studied in the U.S., and somehow everyone believed me. The old man ended up paying for my dinner.