Ghosts of '45: Japan's War Legacy and National Purpose

By Geoffrey E. Hill

In Ghosts of 45, Geoffrey E. Hill addresses the great questions revolving around Japans past militarismhow did it get started, why were they so aggressive, why were individuals submissive to authority, what was the reason Japanese felt superior, was American bombing and the atomic bombs really justified, why are the Japanese reluctant to recognize their militaristic past, and what can the Japanese do to emerge from this predominantly negative war legacy.

After World War II, the Japanese people rebuilt their country, established a new government, restored their infrastructure and became a pacifist nation. Despite these profound changes, modern Japan has not been able to achieve a desired national purpose and a leadership standing in the international community.

In Ghosts of 45, Hill examines this problem by exploring the roots and evolution of Japans militaristic period through historical sources and the recollections of people living in wartime Japan. He features in-depth interviews with both well-educated Japanese individuals familiar with Western culture and American POWs subjected to forced labor.

Three narratives are brought together that could help guide Japan toward finding renewed national purpose and international respect: the roots of Japans militarism, the ongoing war legacy, and key principles concerning the status of the emperor and public education about wartime Japan. In addition, Hill discusses comparisons between the emperor and the pope, the samurai code and the code of the English knights during the Middle Ages, and the beliefs that allowed Japanese wartime brutality and American slavery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Oct 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781458210111

Geoffrey E. Hill

Geoffrey E. Hill was born in Boston, has degrees from MIT and holds a Ph.D. from Penn State University. He was a captain in the US Air Force, a senior scientist with Avco Corporation, a scientist at Air Force Cambridge Research laboratories, and a research professor at Utah State University. He currently lives in Hawaii.

Book preview

Ghosts of ’45

Japan’s War Legacy

and

National Purpose

Geoffrey E. Hill

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Copyright © 2013–2014 Geoffrey Emmet Hill.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover photo by author:

Nagasaki Peace Memorial Statue

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1013-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1012-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1011-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911005

Abbott Press rev. date: 6/9/2014

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Part 1: Japan—Predicament, Perplexity and Possibility

1   Disaster At Sea

2   National Purpose

3   Special Voices

Part 2: Prewar—Interviewee Perspectives

4   Tabata—Striving for Peace

5   Tabata and the Japan-America Student Conference

6   Tabata in China—1937-1941

7   Roots of Expansionism

Part 3: Pacific War

8   Decision for War

9   United States Strikes Back

10   The Last Voyage of the Taiyo Maru

11   Counterattack

12   Return to Japan

13   Tabata in the Philippines

14   A Dangerous Mission

15   Captured

16   Singapore and the Asama Maru

17   Yawata

18   Civilian Life in Japan Before the End

Part 4: Final Blows

19   Defense of Japan

20   American Bombing—Historical Drift

21   Atomic Bombs and Soviet Declaration of War

Part 5: Reflections

22   Atomic Bombings—Interviewees’ Perspectives

23   A Prominent Conservative’s Views

24   Progressive Views of the Japanese War Legacy

25   Education—A Critical Issue

26   Emperor’s Restoration

27   A Higher Road

Afterword

Endnotes

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Special thanks are given to Toshio Tabata, 1934 co-founder of the Japan-America Student Conference. His friendly demeanor and forthright interviews and many correspondences contributed greatly to achieving the book’s purpose. I thank Shoichi Nakase of Tokyo for assisting in making various contacts with Japanese individuals, including Mr. Tabata. Both the Washington and Tokyo branches of the JASC organization were instrumental in arranging these contacts.

Acknowledgment and thanks are given to Kihei Hirai, Izumi Hirano, Akira Kuramata, Amie Toda Meeker, Katsuya Nohara, and Yushin Yamamuro for their extensive and thoughtful interviews. Added thanks are given to Mr. Hirai for the numerous meetings at the Japanese Cultural Center in Honolulu where he described his experiences during the wartime period in Japan. Thanks are given to Pedro Racelis for his detailed accounts of his experiences under Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Appreciation is expressed to Yuko Tojo, granddaughter of Hideki Tojo—the former Imperial Army General and Prime Minister—for her views about her grandfather, the war, and its aftermath. Thanks are given to former Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa for his comments on various topics.

The author gratefully acknowledges the detailed recollections provided by Mr. Cox and Mr. Charles Johnson, both crewmembers of the USS Grenadier (SS-210). I am honored to have had extensive contact with these gentlemen. Thanks are given also to other crewmembers with whom I have corresponded. All these men served their country with great honor.

Thanks are given to several individuals who provided invaluable help in the preparation of the final product. Gail Honda edited many aspects of the writing and my wife Rosemary followed with line-by-line editing during the final phase. I appreciate this support greatly.

Tomahiro Nakahashi assisted in gathering information from several Japanese government agencies and coordinated my contacts with Yuko Tojo. Tatsumi Hayashi assisted with translation of documents and letters.

Viewpoints expressed in the displays at the Yushukan Museum are acknowledged. Thanks are given to Kenneth Schlessinger and staff at the U. S. National Archives in Maryland for the wealth of information about the war years in Japan. Thanks are also given to Japanese agencies for providing relevant information.

Preface

As author of this book, it seems appropriate to explain who I am and what prompted me to take on a complex project such as Japan’s war legacy and possibilities for the future. Such an explanation is due because my background is in atmospheric science and not in history or Japan studies. However, my interest in Japan has roots going back decades. Before describing the Japanese aspect, I shall briefly identify who I am.

As a young boy I faced unknowingly the many difficulties associated with the Great Depression. What made it truly difficult was an abusive alcoholic father, and as a result I was severely underweight and often sick as a child. But with a natural curiosity about life and nature, I developed an abiding interest in weather. I observed the weather regularly, kept daily records starting at age eleven and read several semi-technical books on the subject. This connection with weather grew into my profession; it was a similar process that led me to write this book.

During the Depression, my mother, even with a college education, could only find work in Filene’s Basement as a seamstress. She had to leave four children under the age of ten even when my father was absent. Shortly after the war my brother forcefully removed my father from our apartment in Dorchester, Massachusetts. That ended the abuse, but put the family in dire financial straits. At that time there were no public programs we could turn to. My mother worked for fifteen years as a seamstress, whereupon she contracted tuberculosis. (In spite of that, she became a professional artist at age sixty and lived until two months shy of one hundred years.)

That trauma happened during my first year at M.I.T. Without a doubt it was the most difficult year of my life. Yet there was never any question in my mind about reaching my objective. I succeeded in graduating in four years and followed with a career in teaching and research in atmospheric science. I achieved this objective through determination and persistence along with a deeply felt desire to study and be active in the field of meteorology. A similar pattern evolved with regard to Japan. For many years my interest in Japan increased as I became aware of its history and the ongoing war legacy. Finally, I concluded that with a focused effort I would have something relevant to say about this subject. How this came about had its start in late 1941.

In those days, my family lived day-by-day trying to get by as best we could. We didn’t have a car, a refrigerator, or a telephone. We had a radio, which was turned on only for programs like the Lone Ranger or the evening news, and of course, there was no TV. Newspapers were the main source of information.

Early one Sunday afternoon, my brother rushed in the front door to announce that Pearl Harbor was attacked. From then on our troubles were secondary to the overriding, all encompassing focus on the war: the daily news, ration books, the newspaper and scrap-metal collections, and later the ubiquitous gold or silver-star flags hung in the windows of many homes. I followed the war in great detail by tracking the daily battle lines in the various war zones. Names such as Stalingrad, Dnepropetrovsk in Europe, and Guadalcanal and many other places in the Pacific became commonplace to me.

Then, at a time when it seemed to us ordinary folks that the war in the Pacific would last about two more years, the atomic bomb was dropped. Shortly thereafter, it was rather incredible how fast the war was put out of memory, and life returned to what we considered normal. In my family’s case, that meant the financial struggle continued for several more years.

Sixteen years after the war, I made my first trip to Japan—as a professional scientist presenting a paper at an international conference in Kyoto. That experience introduced me to the best of Japanese culture. From then on, I pondered the great questions revolving around Japan’s militarism—how did it get started, why were they so aggressive, why were individuals so submissive to authority, what was the reason Japanese felt superior to others, was American bombing and the atomic bomb really justified, why are the Japanese so reluctant to recognize its militaristic past, and what can the Japanese do to emerge from this predominantly negative war legacy.

After many years of thinking about these questions, I became impassioned with studying Japan’s war history and its legacy with the aim of expressing my findings in a book. I sought the help of educated Japanese who experienced the prewar and wartime period by contacting Japanese organizations, both in the United States and in Japan. A substantial part of the book is based upon the personal accounts and opinions of these individuals. I also sought opinions and information from a variety of other sources to guide me toward a fair-minded and objective book.

Nearly all of the Japanese individuals interviewed came from well-educated families friendly toward Western culture. Other interviewees included several crewmen of the submarine USS Grenadier held as POWs for two and a half years, a Filipino victim of the Bataan Death March, an injured survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bombing, and Gen. Hideki Tojo’s granddaughter, born after the war and generally considered nationalistic. All of the interviews for this book were tape-recorded or conducted by correspondence between 2002 and 2010.

The basic thrust of the book is directed toward understanding how and why modern Japan has so much difficulty in achieving a satisfying national purpose and international standing. Why Japan has stagnated beyond just economic matters becomes evident in Ghosts of ’45. It is argued that while the Japanese people suffered greatly during the war from American bombing and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the recent trend toward negative judgments of those actions based upon today’s morality is not well grounded. Another argument is that a modernized Japanese national purpose and improved international standing can be achieved entirely by the emperor and Japan’s own citizenry.

In the course of writing about Japan’s present condition regarding desired goals, there arise comparisons between the emperor and the pope, between the samurai code and the code of the English knights during the Middle Age, and between belief systems that allowed Japanese wartime brutality and American slavery.

As hundreds if not thousands of articles and books have been written about Japan—before, during and after the war in the Pacific—there is no attempt herein to rewrite the history of this long period. Although events as far back as 1853 and as recently as 2013 are included, the scope of the book is limited to those events that more specifically relate to the experiences of the interviewees. But the subject of Japan’s war legacy and national purpose is not limited.

Herein, Japanese surnames follow a given name and the emperor’s name is written as Hirohito. In a Japanese translation, a given name would follow the surname and the name Hirohito would be replaced by Showa.

Part 1

Japan—Predicament, Perplexity and Possibility

1

Disaster At Sea

Only a few minutes after torpedoes from the USS Grenadier crashed into the Taiyo Maru, Toshio Tabata fell into the choppy waters in the East China Sea. He battled to stay afloat while he attempted to get away from the turbulent waters alongside one of Japan’s largest transport ships now crippled and in flames. Of the sixteen lifeboats on board, only five of them made it safely into the water. Under the weight of his wet clothes and kapok lifejacket he could barely move his arms, yet he knew he must get as far away from the ship as possible.

As he got farther away he swallowed more and more water with each passing wave. When his breathing became difficult, it seemed as though his end was near. He watched helplessly as hundreds of men retreated to the stern of the ship while the bow sank below the surface and orange flames shot upward from the midsection.

Tabata gasped and asked aloud, Why? Why did this have to happen?

He exclaimed, I cannot believe so many talented people will die so easily. Above the sound of breaking waves he could hear voices from all around him shouting, Help! Help! Tabata asked, Why haven’t our sister ships come to rescue us? Why is this happening? While he struggled to attract one of the surviving lifeboats, the impending loss of the Taiyo Maru was a great tragedy for him.

For many years, Tabata had traveled on his beloved ship between Yokohama, Kobe, and Shanghai. He began his travels at an early age and soon began to appreciate Western amenities. Two of his uncles had connections with well-to-do families in the shipping business, including Marquis Tokugawa of the former ruling class. During a summer vacation from Keio University, Tabata traveled Shanghai to work at a publishing company reporting on Japanese economic development in Manchuria. Upon reading extensively about the area, he became intensely interested in the ongoing programs and accomplishments.

In 1934, he and three other seniors made a bold proposal to University officials. To help allay international criticism of Japanese presence in Manchuria, the four seniors believed visits by American students would convince them that Japan’s actions were beneficial. With university approval and government acquiescence, the four student pioneers became founders of what is now called the Japan-America Student Conference (JASC). Two prominent participants were the future U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and the future Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa.

To implement their proposal, one of the student founders, Namiji Itabashi, boarded the Taiyo Maru bound for San Francisco to recruit American students in that area. Tabata departed on another ship for Seattle as the leader, as he termed it, of his country’s best-educated and finest young people. He felt deep gratitude for his family, especially his uncle and Marquis Tokugawa and his ancestors who gave him so much.

Students signed up for the conference in numbers far beyond the dreams of either Tabata or Itabashi. But their elation ended abruptly when cancellation of the conference appeared likely after visas for the Americans were denied. Tabata and Itabashi asked, How can we face our university officials and all the students with such failure? They both thought seriously that hara kiri—ritual suicide—would be the best recourse. But at the last moment, the visas were issued and they departed San Francisco and Seattle with dozens of American students.

Eight years later, in May 1942, Tabata joined a select group of nearly a thousand well-trained administrators and engineers bound for newly occupied territories. These men represented many of Japan’s civilian elite from upper-class families. With a crew of five hundred men, his favorite ship sailed from Hiroshima painted entirely an ominous black.

Tabata’s roommate Mr. Kanai, a section chief of the Ministry of Greater East Asia, said, I thought we were safe with so many other vessels and escort warships, but since we left Moji and sight of land, I feel uneasy. The composition of the convoy was top secret and nothing was said about the destination, although Tabata had already accepted a senior post in the Philippines. He could have either accepted that post or be drafted into military service; it was an easy decision for him.

As the final moments of the Taiyo Maru loomed, bright flames illuminated the black sky and fire rapidly intensified when volatile supplies of carbide ignited. Hundreds of men stranded on the stern must have realized their end was near when they sang the national anthem over and over. With the last cry of banzai, the ship raised its stern high above the water and then disappeared as if being sucked down to the bottom of the ocean. It was just an hour previously that Tabata’s compatriots celebrated the fall of Corregidor with extra servings of sake.

The sea quickly became quiet except for the thunderous sounds of cargo and remains of the ship furiously bobbing up on the surface every once in a while and the faint voices of survivors asking for help. Those sounds and voices gradually disappeared and only the noise of gusty winds and breaking waves remained. It would have been well within Tabata’s thinking to ask, All this loss for the emperor?

While Tabata awaited his end, crewmembers aboard the submarine USS Grenadier a half-mile away celebrated one of the first significant blows to Japan. On board the submarine, Seaman Johnny Johnson heard the call from the control room, We got ‘er. Other crewmen knew what happened as soon as they heard the sound of explosions. But their jubilation ended abruptly when Japanese air cover and two warships in the convoy retaliated.

Why, why? Tabata asked again as he desperately tried to attract one of the lifeboats.

Every American knew the answer to his question. Men of all walks of life rushed to join the Armed Forces in response to what quickly became known as a sneak attack at Pearl Harbor. The Japanese knew why as well, but their reasons were very different: America had interfered with Japan’s rightful destiny to create a sphere of dominance in East Asia, had obstructed their thrust into Southeast Asia and had supported China, at war with Japan for almost four years.

Widely different views between the United States and Japan on the cause of the war were clearly evident in 1942. But ever since the atomic bombing there has been a steady historical drift in perspectives, especially among Japanese whose sense of victimhood has become entrenched and a lack of openness about the war has become the accepted norm. It is argued herein that victimhood and lack of openness prevent Japan from acceptance as a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council.

2

National Purpose

While the Japanese are generally disinclined to pay much attention to the war years, at least outwardly, there remains a kind of national confinement which restrains Japan’s ability to meet its own desires. On one side of this confinement are nations affected by the war along with misgivings within Japan about its role in the war. On the other side are vocal groups in Japan who justify its wartime activities and a belief that Japan was a victim of the war. With few exceptions, Japan’s politicians are thoroughly restrained by internal factions from expressing dissenting opinions. Examples of views held by such factions are on display in the Yushukan Museum adjacent to the Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo. Prime Ministers generate unabated international criticism for their visits to the Yasukuni Shrine that memorializes over two million war dead, but also includes men convicted of war crimes.

The displays presented at Yushukan boldly assert that Japan was a victim and her conquests were justified. To an outsider, some of the claims appear highly inaccurate or misleading. For example, one of their displays declares that after the fighting in Nanking ended in 1937,

The Chinese were soundly defeated, suffering heavy casualties. Inside the city, residents were once again able to live their lives in peace.

In contrast, John Rabe—a German businessman and member of the Nazi Party—witnessed an entirely different picture. This wide divergence in perceptions between the people of Japan and those of other countries about what happened in Nanking remains largely unchanged.

Another display at Yushukan states that on Nov. 7, 1941, just a month before the Pearl Harbor attack:

The U.S. plan to force Japan into war is then set in motion.

Besides the many issues brought forward in the history of the militaristic period as presented at Yushukan, it is evident that at various times since the end of the war Japan’s relations with other nations have become strained, especially in East Asia. Japan’s limitations on her intrinsic standing in the world are made evident by the answer to the question: To what countries could the Japanese emperor travel and be welcome? While the queen of England is welcome in most countries, how welcome would Emperor Hirohito (Showa) have been in Australia, or Indonesia, or Vietnam, or the Philippines, or Korea? How welcome is Emperor Akihito even now? When I recently posed the idea of the emperor visiting Beijing to a Japanese woman, she laughed heartily. I believe a Chinese woman would do the same.

Only when Japan’s emperor is widely welcomed in places like Korea, the Philippines, China and many other countries, will it be believed that Japan is fully restored to complete trust among nations, at least in the eyes of its neighbors. With only a few minor exceptions, Japan has been a leading example of moral behavior since 1945. Yet, there is something missing. There appears to exist among non-Japanese a deep uneasiness, perhaps unexpressed now, but suppressed only until an incident occurs. For example, each time a Japanese Prime Minister visits the Yasukuni Shrine, or when other countries claim ownership of tiny islands controlled by Japan, the uneasiness and hostility re-emerge.

As for the Japanese people themselves there is another factor that causes persistent uneasiness. One must conform, especially politicians, within firm boundaries. Free expression of diverse opinions about the war is not without penalty. Such widespread fear and limitation of self-expression is exemplified by reaction to a 1988 speech delivered by Hitoshi Motoshima, Mayor of Nagasaki. He declared, I do believe that the emperor bore responsibility for the war.¹ The Liberal Democratic Party Prefectural Committee immediately demanded a retraction. In Nagasaki more than eighty loudspeaker trucks with blaring horns called for divine retribution against the mayor. A little more than a year later, he was shot in the back. Miraculously, he survived. This incident is one among many that demonstrates the risks taken by any politician who accepts responsibility or is apologetic for Japan’s actions during the war.

In another similar incident in 2007, Defense Minister Fumio Kyuma said, My understanding is that it [the atomic bombings] ended the war, and I think that it couldn’t be helped. He quickly resigned after being severely criticized.² The phrase it couldn’t be helped has special meaning to Japanese; it means an acceptance of the inevitable. To those opposed to Japan’s responsibility for the war, such words are abhorrent. Yukio Hatoyama, Secretary-General