by Japanese;Italian Experiences of WW II Reaping the Whirlwind: Personal Accounts of the German
8 May: At 8.30 we left and walked about 5RI. We came to a place where a deep cliff invited our fall and death. If I miss one step, I will be at the bottom of the cliff. What makes it more difficult to cross at this point is that the enemy destroyed all the paths. Every step we took made us hate the enemy. We left five soldiers, Corporal Fujiwata and Private Junno to watch our supplies which we could not get through at this point. What would those Americans think if they could see 20 little Japanese passing this point under such a few men’s command? We stayed overnight at the lookout post at Tabatiko. Lieutenant Murai and Sergeant Major Yazaki stayed with us.
9 May: We left Tabatiko. On the way we faced the strong sun and a warm wind and it made us feel miserable. We marched 5RI … and stayed overnight at a house belonging to an American. Many natives came to visit us. All of them were naked except for their red loincloths. I found one English-speaking native and we had a long and interesting conversation. I find that our cultural standards are far past theirs, but I believe that soon they will learn and accept our standards of culture.
10 May: We left at eight o’clock and I found a village after marching 2km. Our 7 Company was stationed here. The company is repairing a hanging bridge which the enemy destroyed before they left. I found Sergeant Major Nishimura healthy and strong. But I leaned that Sergeant Major Yano had become ill and died.
A storm came and we got soaking wet.
11 May: We arrived at Bontock. I met Sub-Officer Hino and Private Ando. Both were well. Ando’s duty here is head sentry. We stayed overnight due to the storm. We heard that Corporal Iishi and the soldiers who went to the hospital are getting better, but Yamaguchi is not critically ill. I fear more the malaria than enemy bullets.
12 May: Private Ando did me a kind service while we were staying here. Hirashi, a medical serviceman, and I left with two American prisoners to join the company, which is 5km west of here.
13 May: The company expects to stay here about ten days longer. The cost of a pig is about 35 yen and we have so little money. The sun is strong and every evening the storm comes, a sign that the rainy season is at the door.
14 May: We have joined the company and the storm has come again. At seven o’clock this evening the American prisoners must be taken to Sabanga. It is such an important task that I decided to take those prisoners myself. We started on the pitch-dark military road which had been damaged by the heavy rain. It was very dangerous from dropping stones and sliding dirt. The bridge had been washed away …
15 May: We could not go on but came back to the Igot tribe. They are so black and wear only red loincloths. We cannot understand their language and we are having a terrible time. We have not eaten since yesterday and now we have to wait until the storm is over to proceed to Sabanga with the American prisoners.
16 May: I hear that a vehicle will come to take us to Sabanga. It has not come. We do not know what to do.
17 May: The Igot tribe, the Americans and our soldiers are living together at this station … The rain falls for 16 hours every day and I am watching this power of nature with no feeling.
18 May: The red loinclothed native men and the under-skirted native women walk in on us. The life of these people is simple. They eat their food with their fingers and have no feeling for sanitation or beauty. Just living is their desire and nothing else. I am so surprised at finding people less sensitive than myself. I begin to feel that I, myself, am at the same level of these people who have no feeling but just to live. It is the feeling about myself since I came into the war.
19 May: Now I am living in the mountains. It is much easier for me to live if the river is clean … Here the river is muddy and yellow. I hope we can leave with the prisoners for our garrison base soon.
20 May: I must stay at this Igot village to give the report to the coming squad. The coming squad has not come. Here I am with the American prisoners and a few soldiers and the natives. Suddenly, Lieutenant Sugano came in. He had been attacked and was being chased by the enemy. My heart understood his foreboding, and I felt sorry for him.
At this point the diary suddenly ends. Although the Americans had surrendered six weeks earlier, Kubota seems to have been captured. In the translated diary in the Imperial War Museum there are drawings showing the advance and the battles described, of the kind that usually accompanied the interrogations of prisoners of war. The translator also included information about Sub-Lieutenant Kumataro Kubota that would not have appeared in his diaries. So perhaps he survived the war. He may even have been reunited with his wife, son and little Chizuko, if they survived the bombing and shelling of Japan in 1945.
NEW GUINEA
On the day Kubota’s diary broke off, Toshio Sato from Ikeda entered Saseho Naval Architecture Department. The following month he left for Truk in Micronesia, and from there went to New Guinea, to be employed as a translator of native languages attached to the navy. He wrote in his diary:
1 July: Reached Lae in New Guinea. In the harbour I saw a steam ship which was sunk, and heard that five others were sunk. Twenty-four of our men were killed by native troops. Many native spies were killed.
The Japanese forces in New Guinea were preparing for a big push on Port Moresby on the southeast coast, now the only remaining Allied base between Japan and Australia.
30 August: We moved into the jungle. I heard a shot. A few days ago natives captured an Australian second lieutenant. He was sentenced to be beheaded the day before yesterday.
More horrors were to follow.
8 September: … A soldier told me that Tsukioka Butai that occupied Buna caught six or seven Australian men and women and cut their heads off one by one on the beach. There was a young girl of 16. She yelled and cried as they missed her head, but they cut her head by force. He said that it was a dreadful sight. The heads and bodies were thrown into the sea.
The captured diary of an unidentified Japanese soldier recorded yet more:
26 September: Discovered and captured the two prisoners who escaped last night in the jungle … To prevent their escaping a second time pistols were fired at their feet, but it was difficult to hit them. Two prisoners were dissected while still alive by Medical Officer Yamaji and their livers were taken out, and for the first time I saw the internal organs of a human being. It was very informative.
A similar incident took place in Khandok:
The man was tied to a tree outside the Hikari Kikan office. A Japanese doctor and four Japanese medical students stood around him. They first removed the finger nails, then cutting open his chest, removed his heart, on which the doctor gave a practical demonstration.
And another unknown Japanese recorded witnessing what he described as a ‘blood carnival’ at Salamaua, New Guinea, on 29 March 1943:
All four of us (Technician Kurokawa, Nishiguchi, Yamata and myself) assembled in front of the HQ at 1500 hours. One of the two members of the crew of the Douglas which was shot down by anti-aircraft fire on the 18th, and who had been under cross-examination by the 7th Base Force for some days, had been returned to the Salamaua Garrison and it had been decided to kill him. Tai Commander Komai, when he came to the observation station today, told us personally that, in accordance with the compassionate sentiments of Japanese Bushido, he was going to kill the prisoner himself with his favourite sword. So we gathered to observe this. After we had waited a little more than ten minutes, the truck came along.
The prisoner, who was at the side of the guard house, is given his last drink of water, etc. The Chief Medical Officer, Tai Commander Komai and the HQ Platoon Commander come out of the officers’ mess, wearing their military swords. The time has come, so the prisoner, with his arms bound and his long hair now cropped very close, totters forward. He probably suspects what is afoot; but he is more composed than I thought he would be. Without more ado, he is put on the truck and we set out for our destination.
I have a seat next to the Chief Medical Officer; about ten guards ride with us. To the pleasant rumble of the engine, we run swift
ly along the road in the growing twilight. The glowing sun has set behind the western hills, gigantic clouds rise before the sun, and the dusk is falling all around. It will not be long now. As I picture the scene, we are about to witness, my heart beats faster.
I glance at the prisoner; he has probably resigned himself to his fate. As though saying farewell to the world, as he sits in the truck he looks about at the hills, at the sea, and seems deep in thought. I feel a surge of pity and turn my eyes away.
As we passed by the place where, last year, our lamented Han leader was cremated, Technician Nishiguchi must have been thinking about him too, for he remarked, ‘It’s a long time since we were here last.’ It certainly is a long time. We could see the place every day from the observation post, but never got a chance to come. It is nearly a year since the Han leader was cremated. I was moved in spite of myself, and as I passed the place I closed my eyes and prayed for the repose of Shimizu’s soul.
The truck runs along the sea shore. We have left the Navy guard sector behind us and now come to the Army guard sector. Here and there we see sentries in the grassy fields, and I thank them in my heart for their toil as we drive on. They must have got it in the bombing the night before last – there are great holes by the side of the road, full of water from the rain. In a little over 20 minutes, we arrive at our destination, and all get off.
Tai Commander Komai stands up and says to the prisoner, ‘We are now going to kill you.’ When he tells the prisoner that, in accordance with Japanese Bushido, he would be killed with a Japanese sword, and that he would have two or three minutes’ grace, he listens with a bowed head. The flight-lieutenant [the prisoner] says a few words in a low voice. Apparently he wants to be killed with one stroke of the sword. I hear him say the word ‘one’ [in English]. The Tai Commander becomes tense and his face stiffens as he replies, ‘Yes’ [in English].
Now the time has come, and the prisoner is made to kneel on the bank of a bomb crater filled with water. He is apparently resigned. The precaution is taken of surrounding him with guards with fixed bayonets, but he remains calm. He even stretches out his neck and is very brave. When I put myself in the prisoner’s place, and think that in one more minute it will be goodbye to this world, although the daily bombings have filled me with hate, ordinary human feelings make me pity him.
The Tai Commander has drawn his favourite sword. It is the famous Osamune sword that he showed us at the observation post. It glints in the light and sends a cold shiver down my spine. He taps the prisoner’s neck lightly with the back of the blade, then raises it high above his head with both arms, and brings it down with a sweep.
I had been standing with my muscles tensed, but in that moment I closed my eyes.
Ssh! … It must have been the sound of blood spurting from the arteries. With a sound as though something watery had been cut, the body falls forward. It is amazing – he had killed him with one stroke. The onlookers crowd forward. The head, detached from the trunk, rolls in front of it. Ssh! Ssh! … The dark blood gushes out.
All is over. The head is dead white, like a doll. The savageness which I felt only a little while ago is gone, and now I feel nothing but the true compassion of Japanese Bushido. A senior corporal laughs loudly, ‘Well, he will enter Nirvana now!’ Then a superior seaman of the medical unit takes the Chief Medical Officer’s Japanese sword and, intent on paying off old scores, turns the headless body on its back and cuts open the abdomen with one clean stroke. They are thick-skinned, these keto [‘hairy foreigners’ – a common term of opprobrium for white men] – even the skin of their bellies is thick. Not a drop of blood comes out of the body. It is pushed over into the crater at once and buried.
Now the wind blows mournfully and I see the scene again in my mind’s eye. We get on to the truck again and start back. It is dark now. We get off in front of HQ. I say goodbye to Tai Commander Komai and climb up the hill with Technician Kurokawa. This will be something to remember all my life. If ever I get back alive it will make a good story to tell, so I have written it down.
The writer recorded that he wrote this account ‘At Salamaua Observation Post, 30 March 1943 to the sound of midnight waves’. ATIS tried to identify the victim, and the translator noted: ‘The prisoner killed today was an Air Force Flight-Lieutenant from Moresby. He was a young man, 23 this year, said to have been an instructor to the ATC at Moresby.’ So the victim was not even a bomber pilot.
There were some displays of compassion too. On the morning of 18 May 1942, a Japanese soldier crossed the Ramu River in New Guinea. After attacking a village, only to find that the Americans had already fled, his raiding party got lucky.
Many natives from Waisha came to inform us that an American soldier was sleeping in a hut beyond the hill. With a determination not to let him escape this time, we advanced towards the hill. En route, we crossed a branch of the Waisha river. Since landing on New Guinea, this was the first time I’ve found such beautiful clear cold water. I washed my face with it. We had a native from Hoedei village guide us to where the American soldier was. By climbing up a steep hill and cautiously peering over, a small roof could be seen. Stretching my neck a little further, I saw a mosquito net and a rifle. At that moment, a native police boy got a glimpse of me and scurried headlong away. Immediately, the American soldier threw the mosquito net aside and began to flee like a bird. Just when I thought he had gotten away, Miike fired one shot, which hit the mark. We searched through the dead soldier’s belongings and found a bible, a diary and a photo of his mother. Apparently he had malaria and was asleep. His mother is a woman with a very kind face. I don’t know if he is her only son. How grieved she would be if she were to hear that her son was killed. Nevertheless, this is fate. A moment ago, he was probably reading his bible or thinking about his home. With one shot of the rifle which echoed through the Bismarck Range, he has gone to heaven. For many years he has been our enemy, but now that he has become a departed soul, we forgave him for the resentment we hold and buried him.
SUICIDE MISSIONS
Japanese soldiers were, of course, equally careless with their own lives. Suicide missions were common. At 0700 on 30 November 1942, Corporal Tanaka in New Guinea wrote a farewell note. It read:
To Giruma M.P. Tai members:
Thank you very much for your personal and public co-operation. Enemy attacks had been heavy from the 19 November. Today, 30 November, Battalion Commander Yamamoto and subordinates organized a suicide squad. Guard Leader Fujita and four men were included. Death is the ultimate honour. After my comrades and I are dead, please bury us in your leisure time. I ask this because it is dishonourable to remain unburied. Please take care of your health and serve your country. I regret to say that Tai leader Nakayama is missing, and that we have no information regarding his whereabouts. The enemy trench mortar fire is increasing in intensity so I shall close. My best regards to you. Signed, Tanaka.
Those at home tried to keep up the troops’ morale. The Voluntary Aid Organization of Hatano published Home News. The issue dated 6 December 1942 informed soldiers at the front:
Spring at home is just a farmer’s spring. Bathed in the rays of the spring sun, the farming village awakens more and more to activity; the sight of the villagers swinging their hoes increases daily. The villagers, in the battle for production of the home front, are rising up to a man and putting their hearts and souls in the execution of the prefectual requirements.
The school principal’s contribution reassured the soldiers that there would be plenty more to follow in their footsteps:
To the Officers and Men of the Imperial Forces.
It is now two years since the regulations covering National Schools were promulgated whilst four years have passed since the regulations covering Youth Schools became operative. In the case of National Schools, instruction is that the Imperial Way must form the basis of national life while in Youth Schools the order is that appropriate training must be given to the soldiers of tomorrow, but I fear that my ability
has been insufficient adequately to carry out these instructions. However, with all due humility I send my congratulations for your brilliant military achievements …
The sentimental feelings of the new instructors ran high over here. Lastly, in sending you this news, I pray for increase in national prestige and the continued military glory of you all. (Signed) Yamamoto, Minoru, School Principal.
But most news came in the form of personal letters. On 20 April 1942 Shigeru Nishimura’s sister wrote to him about the Doolittle Raid two days earlier. He would not have got the letter for some time though. It was addressed care of the Central China Expeditionary Force, Shochiku Butai, Matsu, No. 4 Butai, Hachisuka Tai, but was captured in the Buna area of New Guinea. It read:
To my dear brother:
Are you in the best of health? I am worrying about you. On the mainland, the cherry blossoms have already fallen and mountains have changed to green and are getting darker after each rainfall. Parents, brothers, sisters and myself are in the best of health and maintaining our home as usual while you are away …
How is your malaria? I dreamed about you every two or three days for the past two weeks. In the dream, you were drinking tea with relish. In last night’s dream, you were talking with me in the guest room … However, I believe you are conquering the heat and doing well. Your picture is always looking affectionately at us from the Tokonoma. I would like to follow your footsteps and do something worthwhile.
The test for our morale came at 12.30 on 18 April, when we received the first air raid since the Greater East Asian War began. It was on Saturday. Air-raid sirens sounded from hill to hill in Central Japan. The army and civilians, acting under unified command, put up such an effective defence that the enemy planes did not penetrate the Chugoku area. Enemy planes fled without causing any damage to our locality. Then the all-clear was given.
