Later, in the hotel lobby, MacArthur was reunited with General Jonathan M. Wainwright, who had been left behind as commanding officer on Corregidor in March 1942, and had surrendered the island to the Japanese in May 1942. Wainwright had been held at a camp in Manchuria, along with other senior officers including British general A. E. Percival, who had surrendered Singapore in February 1942. Both officers were down to skin and bones, and their appearance greatly angered the Allies. For the entire war, Wainwright had wondered whether he had disgraced himself by surrendering Corregidor—and indeed, for a time, MacArthur had told subordinates that he blamed Wainwright for failing to fight to the end. Now, however, all was forgiven. MacArthur embraced his old subordinate and said, “Why, Jim, your old corps is yours when you want it.”35
Bucketing rains fell on August 31 and September 1. MacArthur and his staff moved into their new temporary headquarters at the Custom House, a large stone building three blocks from the hotel, near the Yokohama waterfront. The airlift into Atsugi continued without pause, and occupation troops poured into the country. By September 2, American sentries had set up checkpoints and guardhouses at intersections around the hotel and waterfront. Elements of the 11th Airborne Division moved up to the outskirts of Tokyo, but stopped at the south bank of the Tama River, where they could see Japanese troops encamped on the opposite bank. The Japanese authorities had petitioned MacArthur to delay the American entrance into the capital by another week, in order to provide sufficient time to disarm the troops in the area, and he had agreed.36
Meanwhile, military dignitaries and journalists continued to fly into Atsugi. The shortage of vehicles called for carpooling, but the pecking order of rank came into play as senior officers brusquely commandeered waiting cars. On the 18-mile route between Atsugi and the hotel at Yokohoma, dozens of cars and charcoal-burning buses were broken down and stranded by the roadside. After interminable delays, buses sometimes arrived to collect stranded passengers, and generals and admirals tried to keep their dignity while sitting on suitcases in the aisles of these crowded vehicles. While transferring to one such bus, Russian general Kuzma Derevyanko was seen in his shirtsleeves, hauling baggage, and taking special care with his personal supply of vodka.37
According to General Robert C. Richardson, who flew into Atsugi on August 31, “The roads were terrible, all greatly pitted and very narrow. The road led through green countryside, highly cultivated, and some villages, all of which were extremely flimsy and poverty-stricken. Bedraggled humanity—men and women—straggled along the sides of these terrible roads.”38 He found Yokohama to be a “city of the dead—no life, no shops, no motion—only an occasional trolley or ‘El’ train.”39
The formal signing of the Instrument of Surrender would take place aboard the Third Fleet flagship Missouri, the ship christened by President Truman’s daughter and named for his native state. The crew of the 45,000-ton battleship had holystoned the decks until the teak showed through the gray fireproof paint, polished the brass fittings until they shone like mirrors, and slapped fresh paint over streaks of oil and patches of rust. The ceremony was planned down to the minute, with strict adherence to naval and diplomatic etiquette. It would take place on the starboard side of the galley deck, a small, triangular veranda wedged against the towering steel barbette of a forward 16-inch gun turret. Each participant was assigned a specific place to stand, marked on the deck. As visitors and war correspondents came aboard, they would be guided to their assigned spots by sailors acting as escorts.40
The second of September was an unseasonably cool day with a gray, overcast sky. Senior officers and signatories, American and Allied, began coming aboard shortly after seven o’clock in the morning. Destroyers came alongside the Missouri’s port side and the visitors boarded via a gangway. The ship’s band played the national anthems of the several Allied nations. As Admiral Nimitz came aboard, Halsey’s four-star pennant was hauled down from the masthead, and Nimitz’s five stars were broken out. General Wainwright, who had never seen an Iowa-class battleship, gazed up at the towering superstructure in open-mouthed awe. “I simply could not believe that anything could be so huge, so studded with guns,” he later wrote. “Its guns looked like the bristles of a gigantic hedgehog.”41
MacArthur and his party were brought out to the Missouri aboard a destroyer, the Buchanan. The supreme Allied commander went up the starboard forward gangway, where he was greeted by Nimitz and Halsey. As he stepped aboard, a second five-star triangular flag was unfurled at the masthead, at exactly the same height as Nimitz’s pennant. This arrangement was unprecedented. Naval protocol dictated that only one pennant should fly on a warship at any time—for the senior admiral on board—but this was an unprecedented day, and no one wanted to risk offending MacArthur’s thin-skinned staff.
Nimitz and Halsey escorted him back to Halsey’s cabin, where the trio shared a moment of private conversation. Mick Carney noticed that MacArthur was friendly and familiar with Halsey, whom he addressed as “Bull,” but somewhat colder and more formal toward Nimitz.42 MacArthur disappeared into Halsey’s private washroom and remained there for some time. Dusty Rhoades noted in his diary, “I could hear him retching, and I asked him if he wanted me to get a doctor. He replied that he would be all right in a moment.”43 Minutes later he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the galley deck. Photographers saw him and shouted, asking that he look toward them. MacArthur struck a pose and said, “All right, boys, shoot this one.”44
The ceremony would be covered by an enormous press delegation, numbering 225 correspondents and 75 photographers from around the world, including a Japanese motion picture crew from the Domei News Agency. A temporary press riser had been constructed outboard of the starboard rail, and this platform was crowded with reporters and photographers. Unruly newsmen jostled their colleagues, hoping for a better position, even to the point of pushing and shoving. A Russian newspaperman wanted to stand directly behind General Derevyanko, who would sign the Instrument of Surrender on behalf of the Soviet Union. When instructed to move, he refused, explaining that he had special instructions from Moscow. Captain Stuart S. Murray summoned two brawny marines, who grasped the man by either arm and dragged him to his assigned spot, two decks higher. Several of the American officers and foreign dignitaries were amused by this little contretemps—including General Derevyanko, who chortled happily and exclaimed, “Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.”45
As the participants took their places, one correspondent noted that there were more three- and four-star American generals and admirals standing on the little veranda deck than the United States had ever commissioned prior to the Second World War. Many of the navy’s leading figures of the Pacific War were present, including Turner, McCain, Lockwood, Radford, Bogan, Towers, the two Shermans, and the two Spragues—but notably lacking Spruance and Mitscher, whom Nimitz had asked to stay away, in case a well-timed kamikaze attack should decapitate the high command at one stroke. The Marine Corps was represented by Lieutenant General Geiger and two brigadiers. Representing the U.S. Army and USAAF, standing in ranks with their backs to the great 16-inch gun turret, was a khaki phalanx whose first row included Generals Krueger, Eichelberger, Kenney, Spaatz, Stilwell, and Richardson. General Sutherland, MacArthur’s deputy, stood with the emaciated former POWs Wainwright and Percival, who would stand directly behind MacArthur as he signed the surrender document. The podgy white-clad Admiral C. E. L. Helfrich was the signatory for the Netherlands; General Hsu Yung-Chang, wearing an olive uniform with black shoulder strap, represented China; General Jacques LeClerc, with a toothbrush moustache and high cylindrical kepi hat, would sign for France. Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser, whose schoolboyish summer uniform included white shorts, white shoes, and white socks pulled up to his knees, represented the United Kingdom. Other signatories represented Canada, Australia, and New Zealand.
At the center of the deck, a table from the Missouri’s enlisted men’s mess deck was covered with a plain green baize cloth. Two cop
ies of the Instrument of Surrender had been placed on the table, with a quantity of black fountain pens.
The Japanese delegation included eleven civilians and military officers led by General Yoshijirō Umezu, representing the Imperial General Staff, and Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu, who had returned to that office (succeeding Togo) the day after the surrender. Their names had been kept secret in Japan, lest they be targeted for assassination. Arriving at the Yokohama docks, they passed through several U.S. military checkpoints before boarding an American destroyer, the Lansdowne. After a long, slow passage into the heart of the U.S. fleet, during which time the American crew told them nothing, the Japanese delegates were transferred into a motor launch to be taken to the Missouri. As they approached the great battleship, they looked up and saw rows of American sailors lining the rails, gazing down at them in stony silence. The Japanese came aboard at the starboard gangway, one by one, under the hard gaze of a row of armed marines. General Umezu and the other Japanese officers saluted, but the Americans did not reciprocate. Foreign Minister Shigemitsu, who had lost a leg in a bombing attack in Shanghai many years earlier, walked on a wooden prosthetic leg with the help of a cane. It was a long, slow climb up the swaying gangway, but the limping old diplomat evoked no sympathy among the crew. One American said that he could hear “the thump of his artificial limb on each rung of the gangway ladder as he struggled up over the side of the Missouri,” and a war correspondent noted that Shigemitsu’s labored effort was watched “with savage satisfaction.”46
On the veranda deck, the eleven Japanese arranged themselves in three rows and waited at stiff attention. Shigemitsu, leaning on his cane at the head of the delegation, was dressed in traditional formal diplomatic attire—a black frock coat, striped trousers, white gloves, and a tall silk hat. General Umezu, to his left, wore an olive uniform with gold braid and a row of ribbons on his chest. Both kept their eyes down. Toshikazu Kase, an aide to Shigemitsu, looked up and noticed that every square inch of space on every deck, turret, and rail was teeming with spectators. Sailors were even hanging from platforms and cables on the Missouri’s masts. Glancing at the battleship’s smokestack, Kase saw rows of small Rising Sun flags, each representing a Japanese plane destroyed by the ship’s antiaircraft guns. On a bulkhead by the captain’s cabin, prominently displayed in a glass case, was the thirty-one-star American flag that Commodore Matthew Perry’s “Black Ships” had flown ninety-two years earlier, when they had anchored in these same waters.
Camera shutters clicked, but no one spoke. The Japanese stood waiting for four minutes, but the interval seemed an eternity. “A million eyes seemed to beat on us with the million shafts of a rattling storm of arrows barbed with fire,” wrote Kase. “I felt them sink into my body with a sharp physical pain. Never had I realized that staring eyes could hurt so much.”47
Promptly at nine o’clock, the Missouri’s gunnery officer cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Attention, all hands!” MacArthur stepped out on deck, followed by Nimitz and Halsey. The three walked briskly to the space behind the green baize-covered table. All wore plain khaki uniforms without ties. A war correspondent noticed that MacArthur’s uniform was well-worn: “The cuffs of the trousers were frayed and the shirt, open at the throat, was obviously worn. The breast was completely bare of ribbons and medals and the circlet of five silver stars pinned to his collar was all there was to distinguish this uniform from that of any unranked GI.”48 The well-worn, unadorned khaki made a striking contrast to the colorful finery worn by several of the Allied signatories who stood behind him.
MacArthur stepped up to the battery of microphones. After a pause, he began speaking in a measured, stentorian tone:
We are gathered here, representative of the major warring powers, to conclude a solemn agreement whereby peace may be restored. The issues, involving divergent ideals and ideologies, have been determined on the battlefields of the world and hence are not for our discussion or debate. Nor is it for us here to meet, representing as we do a majority of the peoples of the earth, in a spirit of distrust, malice or hatred. But rather it is for us, both victors and vanquished, to rise to that higher dignity which alone benefits the sacred purposes we are about to serve, committing all our people unreservedly to faithful compliance with the understanding they are here formally to assume.49
The supreme commander spoke clearly, but he was obviously moved. His hands shook with emotion as he read from the handwritten notes he had prepared.50 MacArthur gestured to the documents on the table and said: “The representatives of the Imperial Japanese Government and of the Imperial Japanese Staff will now come forward and sign.”
In a hushed silence, Shigemitsu shuffled forward and lowered himself into the chair at the table. Kase stood by his side. The foreign minister removed his hat and gloves and placed them on the table. A moment of confusion followed, as he studied the two copies of the surrender agreement, unsure of where to sign. Shigemitsu read English perfectly, so there did not appear to be any reason for the delay. Halsey suspected that he was stalling, and suppressed the urge to slap the foreign minister and shout “Sign, damn you! Sign!”51 Finally MacArthur turned to Sutherland and said tersely, “Sutherland, show him where to sign.”52
Sutherland put his finger down on the line over the foreign minister’s name. Shigemitsu glanced up at Kase, who checked his watch and said that it was 9:04. With a few strokes of the pen, the foreign minister signed his name in kanji and added the time. With that, the Second World War was formally ended.
When Shigemitsu had stood and returned to his spot, General Umezu came forward briskly, avoiding eye contact with MacArthur or any other Allied officer. He did not take a seat. Removing a pen from his breast pocket, he leaned over the table and signed, then returned quickly to his place and stood at attention, eyes still downcast. A witness noted that another Japanese officer, standing behind Umezu, was in tears.
MacArthur gestured Wainwright and Percival forward, then took a seat at the table. He took six fountain pens from his pocket and placed them on the table. He began writing his name, then stopped, turned to Wainwright, and gave him the pen. He picked up another pen, wrote several more letters, then turned and handed it to Percival. He finished his signature using the four remaining pens, which he would offer as gifts to various recipients in the United States. A reporter noted that MacArthur’s hand shook with emotion as he signed.53
Admiral Nimitz then signed on behalf of the United States. He also seemed tense and emotional, and later told a friend, “I shook so with excitement I could hardly sign my name.”54
One by one, the Allied signatories came forward to add their signatures: China, the United Kingdom, the Soviet Union, Australia, Canada, France, the Netherlands, and New Zealand.
MacArthur then returned to the microphone and said, “Let us pray that peace be now restored to the world and that God will preserve it always. These proceedings are closed.”
As MacArthur and the other senior Allied officers adjourned to Halsey’s cabin for coffee and cinnamon rolls, Foreign Minister Shigemitsu and Toshikazu Kase stepped forward to inspect the Japanese copy of the surrender document. They noted that one of the signatories, L. Moore Cosgrave of Canada, had signed on the wrong line. Three other Allied representatives, following Cosgrave, had each signed one line down, so that their signatures did not match the printed names under the signature lines. General Sutherland and several other American officers huddled with Shigemitsu and Kase as they examined the document. Finally, Sutherland sat down, took up a pen, drew lines through the printed names of the Allied representatives and wrote the correct names beneath the errant signatures. Sutherland later said that the document was slightly blemished by these edits, but he suspected that “very few people would ever see it anyway, since it probably would be buried in the deepest recesses of their most secret archives.”55
As the Japanese descended the gangway to the waiting motor launch, the drone of aircraft engines was heard in the sou
th. They looked up as the drone gradually ascended to a roar. A hundred B-29s thundered overhead at low altitude, under the cloud ceiling, in precisely spaced formation. Then came an armada of 450 carrier planes, Hellcats, and Corsairs, from Task Force 38. They approached from the east, crossing the track of the B-29s at right angles, and continued over Yokohama and Tokyo. The carrier planes were stacked from about 200 to 400 feet, nearly masthead altitude, lower than the Superforts.
The flyover lasted for a full thirty minutes. The engines of the low-flying warplanes were so loud that men on the deck of the Missouri had to raise their voices to make themselves heard. Mick Carney called it “a terrific show, awe-inspiring,” and added that the massed aerial parade “would certainly have given pause to anybody that wanted to start anything again.”56
U.S. AND ALLIED FORCES poured into the defeated nation. Fourteen major designated occupation zones ranged from southern Kyushu to the northern island of Hokkaido, including all urban and industrial regions, all military and naval bases, and all the major strategic waterways and ports of entry along the coasts. In most regions, a vanguard force went in by airlift, secured an airfield capable of receiving cargo planes on a regular schedule, and then linked up with a nearby seaport where supplies and additional troops could be brought in by sea. Three days after the ceremony on the Missouri, heavily armored advance patrols of the 1st Cavalry Division and XI Corps entered Tokyo, securing the main roads and bridges in preparation for the arrival of major occupation forces on September 8. By the end of September 1945, the U.S. Eighth Army had a total of 232,379 troops in central and northern Japan, including all of the greater Tokyo region and the Kanto Plain, and the U.S. Sixth Army had commenced airlifting troops into the Osaka-Kyoto-Kobe area, the remainder of southern Honshu, and the island of Shikoku. The Sixth Army headquarters force landed at Wakayama, at the mouth of Osaka Bay, and set up shop in Kyoto two days later. Two marine divisions, the 2nd and the 5th, landed at Sasebo and Nagasaki in Kyushu, and moved overland to occupy ports and cities throughout the big southern island. At the high tide of the occupation, more than 700,000 Allied troops would be stationed in Japan.57
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