In commenting on the historical significance of the occupation on the occasion of the fourth anniversary of the Japanese surrender, General MacArthur said, “I dare say that no occupation in history has been subject to such an extraordinary divergence of opinion carried in the media of public expression than has the occupation of Japan. Some writers have been extravagant in their praise, others no less extravagant in their criticism. Simultaneous attacks have been leveled against occupation policy by the leftists as too revolutionary and by conservatives as too liberal. The truth, awaiting the judgement of history, will rest somewhere in between.” He concluded his statement with the words, “Of the Japanese people I can pay no higher tribute than to repeat that they have fully and faithfully fulfilled their surrender commitments and have earned the freedom and dignity and opportunity which alone can come with the restoration of a formal peace.”
With the crisis breaking in Korea, the Japanese people were to demonstrate a deep appreciation for their conquerors. They could have turned against us, as so many conquered people have done in history, but instead they not only remained friends but actually became allies. Thousands of young Japanese volunteered to serve in American military forces to help us in Korea. And when American wounded returned to hospitals in Japan and blood for our troops was not available from the United States, thousands of Japanese men and women, the common people, gave their blood. We were all grateful for their cooperation and support. I regret to say, however, that too many Americans have failed to understand that the Japanese have their own vital interests as a nation that sometimes coincide with our own but on occasion diverge.
A people’s traditions, hopes, and aspirations are deeply rooted in a nation. No adversity can block them out. Nor will they be forgotten or forsaken. And so the Japanese people will always remember that before their unconditional surrender their country was one of two major powers that had never lost a war; the other was America. Nor can we ever expect the Japanese people to accept for their country the role of a neutral Switzerland in Asia, as the victorious Allies had directed. The Korean War accordingly, by “the grace of heaven,” stirred anew a deep-seated yearning in the hearts of the Japanese. They saw America committed to a war on the Asian continent. They knew America would need Japan. Out of that need they hoped would come a new day: a treaty of peace, respectability, and national dignity. By the miracle of Korea, an emasculated Japan was about to regain its manhood. History since is replete with the marvelous achievements—political, economic, and social—of a revitalized democratic Japan.
For myself, I have chosen to touch upon only a small segment of that illustrious history: the story of the rearmament of Japan, a story of covert, surreptitious, illegal rearmament, forced by the accident of war and fashioned by the expediencies of a deteriorating military situation in Korea. And so I return to that war.
A short time after our radio carried the news of the Korean invasion, I met my old friend Bunzō Akama, governor of Ōsaka Prefecture, who was visiting Tōkyō.2 Our conversation immediately turned to the war.
“It looks bad, Mr. Governor,” I said.
“Really, Colonel?” answered the governor. “War is bad, but the Japanese are not too unhappy. America will need Japan and we will be your friend. The war will be over soon.”
Many thought so, but reality belied our wishful thinking. As the communist invaders pushed relentlessly down the peninsula of Korea, it became increasingly evident that neither the supreme commander’s “ukase,” nor our air or naval forces, which performed quite effectively, could stop the aggressor.3 The North Korean forces swept the disorganized South Korean units and our small American advisory group from the fields. The situation became so chaotic that only the strong will of SCAP prevented our ambassador and the American flag from fleeing Korea. If we were to halt the aggression, American ground troops would have to be sent to Korea.
After the hectic week of uncertainties, General MacArthur launched his tragic double offensive. The 24th Infantry Division, one of the American units on occupation duty in Japan, was alerted for battle. Almost immediately, to show our resolve to the world, a battalion of the 24th was rudely jerked from its comfortable Japanese barracks and catapulted into the war. Rapidly in succession, one battalion of the 24th after another was dumped piecemeal into the meat grinder of Korea, each battalion understrength, undertrained, and underequipped. The officers and men did their best with what they had. The courageous commander of the 24th Division, Major General William F. Dean, personally led his troops on the field of battle until he was captured in the struggle.4 But neither courage, patriotism, nor outbursts of loud national propaganda are adequate substitutes in war for military power, for men teamed and trained with weapons and equipment.
We were now committed on the Asian continent, fighting in a whirlwind that would suck into its vortex the cream of our youth and billions of dollars in natural treasure. This sacrifice was to be made in a remote area of the world, an area that our Joint Chiefs of Staff in a secret memorandum of September 1947 had said was of “little strategic interest.”
Some months before the North Korean attack, Secretary of State Dean G. Acheson, supported by our Joint Chiefs of Staff, drew a line of demarcation in the Far East between communism and the Western world. In effect, we said, “Communism this far and no farther.” That line extended from Alaska to the Philippines and included on our side the Aleutian Islands, Japan, and Okinawa. Taiwan and Korea were not within the “Acheson Line.” Accordingly, in South Korea we maintained only a small military advisory and assistance group.
In Japan we had four understrength divisions. The 7th Infantry Division was stationed in the northern part of Honshū, the largest of the four Japanese islands, and on Hokkaidō, the sparsely populated northernmost island, near the Soviet Kuriles and Sakhalin. The 1st Cavalry Division was located in the Kantō Plain, with some of its units in the city of Tōkyō, where it assumed the character of palace guards for SCAP. The 25th Infantry Division was comfortably resting in the Kansai Plain with its headquarters in Ōsaka, at the time Japan’s second largest city. The 24th Infantry Division, which was the first to become engaged, was scattered over the southernmost island of Kyūshū, lying directly south of Korea. These forces were deployed in Japan to defend the country. They were not intended to fight on the Asian mainland.
With the commitment of the 24th to Korea, the 25th Division was side-slipped south to defend Kyūshū. But it did not remain there long. By July 18, the 25th Infantry Division and the 1st Cavalry Division joined the 24th in the war, and Lt. Gen. Walton H. Walker rushed his Eighth Army Headquarters from Yokohama to Korea. Thus, three weeks after the Korean War began, only the 7th Division with some Army service troops and Air Force units remained in Japan, and even the 7th was alerted to go.
In those crucial days, the United States became rapidly aware that we did not have enough forces in Japan to stop the communist aggression. Moreover, anxious examination showed that we could expect no reinforcements from the United States for months. We had the atomic bomb, but we had no ground reserves.
When the 7th finally embarked for Korea, there would be no ground troops left on Japan to protect the Japanese government and our bases from internal insurrection, let alone an attack from without. A nation of 90 million people had been completely disarmed. Its warships, aircraft, tanks, military transport, artillery, machine guns, and rifles had been committed to junk heaps. Even its officers’ samurai swords had been carted off as souvenirs in the baggage of our officers and enlisted personnel returning to the United States. The country was a military vacuum.
Japan and America were at a critical crossroads. The situation called for bold and creative action. It was of little value now to debate whether we should have gone into Korea. The decision had been made, despite inadequate military capabilities. But the United States has always in its history been blessed with having the right man in the right place at the right time. So it was in June 1950. At this critical moment in
our history, America had the only man who could have done what was necessary in Japan. For it is indeed doubtful that there was another man in the service of the United States except General MacArthur with the self-assurance, the self-conceit, and the moral courage to order the rearmament of Japan. This he did, contrary to international agreements at Potsdam, in violation of instructions from the Far Eastern Commission, in contradiction of the noble aspirations of the Japanese constitution, and with little help from his own government.5
CHAPTER TWO
JAPAN BEFORE KOREA
International conflicts, like all violent human events, can result from conscious planning, provocative acts, or miscalculations. In 1950, it was probably that American miscalculations in the Cold War, which was then being waged between the United States and the Soviet Union, influenced a flow of events that precipitated the Korean War. Certainly the communists caught us completely by surprise. Yet if those responsible had been watching events as they unfolded in the world and hardened in Japan, we should not have been surprised.
The forces that had held communist Russia in alliance with the Western nations were always under severe stress and strain. When Germany surrendered, the alliance came apart. The Cold War in Europe began the day the fighting war with Germany ended. Soviet communism overran Eastern Europe and pushed menacingly toward Greece. For a time, the United States hesitated, then on March 12, 1947, President Harry S Truman, in a bold move, announced what became known as the Truman Doctrine, declaring the determination of the Unites States to block Soviet communist expansion. Three months later, the Marshall Plan gave substance to our declaration. As the months went by, the United States became increasingly committed to using military power to carry out its foreign policy in Europe. Twelve nations, headed by Britain and France, rallied to our support, and on April 4, 1949, the North Atlantic Treaty, pledging “collective security of the North Atlantic Area,” was signed in Washington.
On October 1, 1949, less than six months after the formation of NATO, the Red Chinese drove Chiang Kai-shek’s regime from the mainland of Asia, and Mao Tse-tung established a communist government in China. Herbert C. Hoover, former president of the United States, commenting on the situation in the Far East, posted the score in the Cold War as 400 million to zero, referring, of course, to the loss of 400 million Chinese to communism, a slight underestimation.
In the months that followed, the Big Three foreign ministers (of the United States, Britain, and France) met to examine and ponder the world situation. With the formation of NATO, Europe seemed secure. In the Far East, however, communism had overrun the heartland of Asia. If the Cold War was to be stabilized, the West had to face up to the enemy in that area. The Big Three foreign ministers talked about “total diplomacy” and hinted about demonstrations of power. There was vague speculation about actions to be taken in Japan, where the United States maintained an occupation force of substantial ground, sea, and air power. If a demonstration of power was needed in Asia, Japan was the place to make it.
It was not clear what the Big Three foreign ministers meant by “total diplomacy.” Seemingly the concept proposed a containment of the Soviet Union on all fronts—economic, political, and military. One facet of the “total diplomacy” strategy seemed to contemplate a policy designed to destroy the prestige and influence of the Russians in the Japanese environment. In retrospect, one can now see that this strategy fashioned three blows that were struck at the Soviets during the later part of May and early June 1950, only weeks before the Korean War. The first of these blows knocked the Russians out of the negotiations on the Japanese peace treaty.
Exploratory talks on a peace treaty with Japan had been going on for some time. As early as March 19, 1947, General MacArthur, in an interview with the press, indicated that he thought Japan’s sovereignty should be restored “as soon as possible.” At that time, the supreme commander envisioned a special status for Japan, a kind of international protectorate under “mild” controls and guidance from the United Nations. It is significant that General MacArthur, back in 1947, pointed out that “if the UN is ever to succeed, this was the most favorable opportunity it had.” He conceded that it might be advisable to reconsider Japan’s pledge against maintaining “war potential,” suggesting that a small military establishment for the nation might be desirable. Nothing ever came of General MacArthur’s proposal, but who knows what course events might have taken in the Far East had the occupation forces been removed and Japan placed under United Nations protection.1
In the spring of 1950, rumors began to circulate in Tōkyō about a separate peace treaty for Japan with each of the Allied nations, which immediately polarized Japanese politics. In the controversy that developed, Prime Minister Yoshida and his Liberal Party (Jiyūtō) were prepared to sign a peace treaty with any of the nation’s former enemies willing to recognize Japan’s sovereignty. The Japan Socialist Party (Nihon Shakaitō) protested loudly, wanting a multilateral agreement that would give Japan a single peace treaty with all the Allied nations, including the Soviet Union. The debate came to a head when Dr. Shigeru Nambara, president of Tōkyō University, dramatically declared that he stood for a “total peace treaty or none.” Yoshida is alleged to have retorted privately, “He’s crazy.” Publicly, the prime minister replied on May 3 that Dr. Nambara “was playing to the galleries.”
While the controversy raged in Japan, the Soviet Union continued to obstruct every effort to reach a multilateral agreement. Suddenly, the United States decided to give Japan a separate peace treaty whether Russians participated or not. On May 18, 1950, the United States accordingly announced that Defense Secretary Louis A.Johnson and General Omar N. Bradley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, planned to discuss with General MacArthur in Tōkyō the military implications of a peace treaty with Japan. On the following day, May 19, President Truman told the press that he hoped a Japanese peace conference could be held soon, and he said he had appointed John Foster Dulles to negotiate the peace treaty. About two weeks later, the Japanese government, in an unprecedented statement for a vanquished state, bluntly declared that Japan was ready to sign a peace treaty with any nation. That opened the way for a separate peace treaty with the United States and shut the Soviet Union out of any negotiations. The first card in the game of “total diplomacy” had been played.
The next two power plays were more direct. In 1950, there were two viable aspects of communism in Japan: the Japan Communist Party and Soviet Union’s representatives on the Allied Council of Japan in Tōkyō. These two elements of Soviet influence had to go.
The Japan Communist Party was a legal political organization, permitted by General Headquarters (GHQ) in November 1945 to exist as a political party. It subsequently had several delegates elected to the Japanese Diet. In the depressed city areas, the party had considerable influence among the unemployed and dispossessed. In Ōsaka, for example, the Communist Party leader, Shiga, had received overwhelming support from the electorate. By 1950, communists were aggressively organizing noisy cells in the universities.
The first blast offensive against communism was fired by General MacArthur. In an elegantly phrased press release, SCAP declared,
[The Japan Communist Party] has cast off the mantle of pretended legitimacy and assumed instead the role of an avowed satellite of an international predatory force and a Japanese pawn of an alien power policy, imperialistic purpose, and subversive propaganda.
That it has done so at once brings into question its right to the further benefits and protection of the country and laws it would subvert and raises doubt as to whether it should longer be regarded as a constitutionally recognized political movement.
The announcement was a pointed invitation to the Japanese government to outlaw the Communist Party. It was not an occupation forces directive, but it left no doubt in anyone’s mind what SCAP wanted. The days of good feelings and friendly fellowship were at an end. The cautious prime minister, however, was not eager to stick his neck out. Thou
gh he gave General MacArthur’s press release customary lip service, he made no overt move against the communists.
Impatient with Japanese reticence to act, SCAP moved directly against the Communist Party. It sent out Dr. Walter C. Eells, an employee of the Civil Information and Education Section, on a one-man campaign against communists in universities and colleges. This was a sudden, unprecedented departure from past occupation policy. Up until the Eells campaign, it had been the accepted procedure for SCAP officials to advise university administrators, professors, and students on educational matters, but Americans customarily avoided politics. Though many officials, of course, spoke out in private against communism, Dr. Eells was the first SCAP emissary to launch a public anticommunist crusade. The reaction at the universities was violent. When he appeared on the platform at Tōhoku University in northeastern Japan, communist-led students raised such a howl that his lecture had to be canceled. This was the first time that a Japanese audience demonstrated directly against someone from SCAP. In Tōkyō, we were shocked. Dr. Eells made additional attempts to address other university groups, but his appearances were greeted with increasing violence and disorder. Finally, when President Nambara of Tōkyō University joined the students protesting that “[Dr. Eells’ views] do not, in some respects, harmonize with the national circumstances of Japan,” the harassed doctor was sent home. The Japanese educators, it would appear, had imbibed so deeply the theory of American democracy that our effort to crush communism in the country was momentarily frustrated by their devotion to our teachings.
On May 30, 1950, events took a new turn. Thousands of Japanese gathered in what was announced as a “People’s Rally” on the Imperial Palace Plaza, in full view of the Dai Ichi Building, General MacArthur’s GHQ. The rally was called to protest alleged repression of people’s rights by the Japanese government. Coming out of the Dai Ichi at noon, I was amazed at the mass of people milling about on the plaza. Enjoying the beautiful day, I crossed the street and walked among the throng. It was a typical Japanese gathering, packed with thousands of young people, mostly students, interspersed with working men and women and the idle curious who were always attracted by such an event. The people were friendly, and as far as I could see, the crowd was orderly. Here and there, small groups were assembled listening to individual speakers who seemed to be answering questions mostly. A few policemen stood quietly observing the crowd.
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