Harp of Burma

By Michio Takeyama and Howard Hibbett

Harp of Burma is Japan's classic novel of pathos and compassion in the midst of senseless warfare.

Winner of the prestigious Mainichi Shuppan Bunkasho prize and the basis for the critically acclaimed film The Burmese Harp by Ichikawa Kon, Harp of Burma shares a powerful human story about Japanese soldiers on the front lines in WWII. Losing a desperate battle against British forces in the tropical jungles of Burma, the young soldiers discover that the trials of war involve more than just opposing the enemy.

Distressed and disoriented by the alien climate and terrain, strange behavior of foreigners and the emotions stirred by the senselessness of war, their commander's ability to lead them in song helps them discover music's power to make even the most severe situations more tolerable. Even though they face the inevitability of defeat, singing the songs of their homeland revives their will to live.

Through the story of these men and of the music that saw them through the war, Takeyama presents thought-provoking questions about political hostilities and the men who unleash them. Harp of Burma is Japan's classic novel of pathos and compassion in the midst of senseless warfare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tuttle Publishing
• Release date: Dec 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462903559

Book preview

Published by Tuttle Publishing, an imprint of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd., with editorial offices at 364 Innovation Drive, North Clarendon, Vermont 05759 U.S.A. and 61 Tai Seng Avenue, #02-12, Singapore 534167

Copyright © 1966 Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co., Limited

English translation © UNESCO 1966

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 66-20570

ISBN: 978-1-4629-0355-9

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PUBLISHER’S FOREWORD

THE SINGING COMPANY

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

THE GREEN PARAKEET

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

THE MONK’S LETTER

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

PUBLISHER’S FOREWORD

Harp of Burma is a story about the Second World War, but its message is a timeless one. First published in 1946, Michio Takeyama’s classic tale of a company of Japanese soldiers who faced the trials of war in Burma with a heart full of song has received much acclaim and achieved much renown. It has been produced on the screen and, more recently, has been recreated on the stage. In addition the author received a literary prize offered by the Mainichi Press.

It was for the younger generation that M. Takeyama intended the book, but after its initial publication in Aka Tomho, a now defunct but then leading juvenile magazine, it became enormously popular among Japanese adults. It is currently included in a series of recommended world literature classics for high school age youngsters.

On the surface, Harp of Burma is the intriguing story of men turned into soldiers, involved in a war they do not fully understand, and faced with experiences both new and baffling. It is filled with adventure, pathos, and humor, all of which go to make a compelling story of war. But, as the author states, he hopes that his readers will not see just another adventurous war story in Burma. If it succeeds in its goal to set you at least to thinking, then I will be happy, he explains. This edition was prepared for the translations collection of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) by Professor Howard Hibbett of the United States.

HARP OF BURMA

Our Japanese soldiers who came back from overseas were a pitiful sight. They looked thin, weak, and exhausted. And some of them were invalids, drained of color and borne on stretchers.

But among the returning soldiers there was one company of cheerful men. They were always singing, even difficult pieces in several parts, and sang very well. When they disembarked at Yokosuka the people who came to greet them were astonished. Everyone asked if they had received extra rations, since they seemed so happy.

These men had had no extra rations, but had practiced choral singing throughout the Burma campaign. Their captain, a young musician fresh from music school, had enthusiastically taught his soldiers how to sing. It was singing that kept up their morale through boredom or hardship, and that bound them together in friendship and discipline during the long war years. Without it, they would never have come home in remarkably high spirits.

One of these soldiers told me the following tale.

THE SINGING COMPANY

CHAPTER ONE

WE CERTAINLY did sing. Whether we were happy or miserable, we sang. Maybe it’s because we were always under the threat of battle, of dying, and felt we wanted to do at least this one thing well as long as we were still alive. Anyway, we sang with all our hearts. And we preferred serious songs, songs with depth, not the frivolous popular kind. Of course most of us had been only farmers or laborers, but we managed to learn some fine choral music. I still remember with pleasure how we sang on the shore of a certain lake.

We had been on a long march down a valley through dense forests. Suddenly a lake came into view, with white buildings dotting its shore. It was a village where an ancient Burmese king once had a summer palace. Clusters of white-walled houses on a small bay stood half submerged, meeting their reflections in the water. Exotic domes, spires, and bell towers soared into the sky—the dazzling tropical sky.

Have you ever seen an opal? Well, the Burmese sky has just that sort of white glow, tinted here and there with iridescent flecks of light. To see marble towers spiraling up against such a sky makes you feel as if you are dreaming.

During the three days we were stationed in that village we practiced singing every day. We sang hymns, nostalgic old favorites like The Moon Over the Ruined Castle, pleasant tunes like Sous les toits de Paris, and even difficult German and Italian songs. There beside that picturesque lake the captain waved his baton happily, while we soldiers, carried away by the sound of our own voices, sang from the very depths of our beings.

One day we ended by practicing the company song Hanyu no Yado over and over again, in four-part harmony. Hanyu no Yado—"My Home Sweet Home"—is a song of yearning, one that never fails to stir your heart. As we sang we thought of our families and wished we could show them this landscape and let them hear our song.

Afterward the captain said, All right, men, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow at the same time we’ll try something new. Company dismissed! Then he called to one of the soldiers. "Hey, Mizushima, have you got that our company, but he must have been born with talent since he made such rapid progress. Music was his one passion; he thought of nothing else. He built his own harp to accompany our chorus, and he played so well that he could soon work up an accompaniment to any tune.

It must seem odd that troops in a remote place like Burma would have musical instruments along. But we certainly had them—all kinds of them. If the various instruments belonging to our soldiers were gathered together you would have a really interesting collection. No matter where our troops went, as soon as there was any spare time someone would make an instrument. There were even craftsmen among us who could turn out surprisingly good ones from the most ill-assorted materials. Wind instruments ranged from a simple reed or bamboo pipe with holes bored in it, to a bugle made from parts of broken machinery. As for percussion instruments, I have seen tambourines of cat or dog hide stretched over wooden frames, and even a gasoline drum with one end covered with some kind of skin—a tiger skin, I was told. Anyway, that drum was the pride of its company, and made a tremendous vibrant boom. Some units even had violins and guitars, though it’s hard to imagine how they were made.

In our company the instrument we used most was a kind of harp, a copy of the harp that the Burmese play. Its body was made of a thick native bamboo, which was attached to another piece of bamboo, bent and strung with wires of copper, steel, and aluminum or duralumin.

Leather thongs were used for the lower notes. After a great deal of hard work we were able to produce a musical scale on this curious harp.

Corporal Mizushima was a master with this harp. He made up all sorts of pieces for it. When he played, tones halfway between a piano and a Japanese lute mingled and hung in the air. At first glance he was a comical sight: a sunburned soldier in a combat cap with his arms around this delicate instrument, playing it as if in a trance.

When Mizushima was asked about his accompaniment to Hanyu no Yado, he immediately struck it up. What he played was so elaborate and interesting that it seemed more like a solo piece. The other soldiers gathered around to listen, with arms folded and eyes closed.

The air was heavy and fragrant and very still. The music of the harp traveled out over the lake and echoed back across the water from the edge of the forest on the opposite side. It was a forest of huge teak trees. You could see monkeys frolicking there, and hear all sorts of birds chattering back and forth.

Just at that moment a peacock fluttered down from somewhere, paraded in front of us briefly, and then flapped away. Its wings beat the air noisily, and as it flew, its shadow glided across the surface of the lake.

That is a truly happy memory.

CHAPTER TWO

HOWEVER, the tide of war had begun to turn against us, and at last it was obvious to everyone that our situation was hopeless. We were reduced to fleeing from mountain to mountain through unknown territory, trying somehow to get over the eastern border range into Siam. Once we deliberately chose a steep bypath and spent hours scaling it. Another time we crossed a suspension bridge swaying in the wind over a deep gorge. One by one trucks had broken down, so that we finally had to pull our equipment along in oxcarts, or carry it on our backs. We lived by foraging everywhere we went. It was a wretched time for us, and one of great danger.

We had many harrowing experiences. There were moments when we thought we’d reached the end. But at such times, Corporal Mizushima’s harp worked miracles. One night, high in the mountains, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by the enemy. They closed in on us gradually and trapped us in a narrow ravine. We had lost our way and could see only by the starlight filtering through the trees above us. We were completely hemmed in

Enemy troops gathered along the mountain ridges on our right and left and signaled with lights as they searched for us. There was constant gunfire overhead. Shells screeched through the air with a noise like a silk cloth being ripped in two. And just as you thought it was gone, a terrifying explosion would thunder in our narrow little ravine, and rocks and earth would shower down on us.

Thinking we were sure to be wiped out, we huddled together under the trees on the dark, damp floor of the ravine. All of us were prepared to die. We sat there in breathless silence, with our backs hunched, staring wide eyed into the darkness. I could hear my own heart beating wildly, almost in my throat.

The lights on the ridges were flashing signals faster than ever, moving here and there. Then one of

Reviews for Harp of Burma

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The beautifully written Harp of Burma by Michio Takeyama is the haunting story of a Japanese unit during and after the end of World War II. At the time of it’s original publication it was seen by some as blatant propaganda, but over the years has come to be accepted as a lyrical message about the futility and despair that is always the final result of war. The story is of a Japanese unit deep in the jungles of Burma striving to reach their lines but knowing full well that the war has been lost. After surrendering to the British they sit in prison camp awaiting repatriation and they ponder on the fate of the talented harpist of the unit, missing from his last mission. Is he dead or has he deserted, and if so, why.The author is showing us a different side of the Japanese soldier, one that we Westerners rarely see. These are young men facing the inevitability of defeat, not knowing what to expect if and when they are returned to their homeland. They miss the comfort and security of their families and hearing about the atomic bomb has brought great unease and uncertainty about their future. The Harp of Burma is a small story in terms of pages, but manages to deliver a large message on idealistic pacifism. I found this story to have a surreal, dreamlike quality and, although simplistic and somewhat dated, I believe this story still has emotional value in today’s world.