Today, thanks to Hanuko Taya Cook and Theodore F. Cook, authors of the book, Japan at War – An Oral History,” (( New York, 1992) Japanese can be heard telling their war stories in private homes, on park benches, and in restaurants, opening up their hearts to reveal secrets long held in shame and fear.

Itabashi Koshu was at the naval academy in late 1944 when war was declared on Japan by the United States. He said that the entire nation cried out; “We really did it! Incredible! Wonderful!” They would fight for “the sake of His Imperial Highness” in a sacred war. Victory would be theirs.

However, Yoshida Toshio, a naval officer, and a future author of over thirty books, had a different reaction to the announcement he heard on the radio.

I knew Japan shouldn’t fight a war. I looked at Japan like an outsider A chill cut right through me. I can feel it now. I ran to the Navy Ministry. Those who had known about Pearl Harbor were all smiles.The people in my section didn’t know anything. We had lots of files. But nobody looked at them. We didn’t have much of a staff. The navy didn’t spend money on intelligence. Nobody really looked into these things. Everybody said these were the most excellent officers in the Imperial Navy. I’ve often wondered since what that word “excellence” meant to them.

Toshio served aboard the battleship, Nagato, flagship of Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku, who had been a naval attache to Washington when he was still a captain. He felt it was foolish to fight a war against America, especially after he had seen the automobile plants in Detroit and the oil fields in Texas. Toshio said Isoroku loved gambling and women.

He had said prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor: “Without fail, the Americans have been given notice, have they not?” The Americans were supposed to have received notice just before the attack.

Zero Ace, Sakai Saburo, had harsh words to say of the officers who were young kids, “Honorable Lieutenant, Honorable Officer.” The non-commissioned pilots ranked lower than those who had just finished their training. The former lived in drafty common rooms, while the officers enjoyed private rooms and drank Johnny Walker Black – spoils of war – while the noncoms made do with beer full of preservatives.

Saburo said that the officers lived in Rabaul, far from the noncoms. “Not one of them knew what their highly valued subordinates were up to. None of the noncoms knew any of their honorable leaders, or even where they were honorably living, or what they had at their honorable meals. “

At the airfield, the ready rooms were separate. Saburo asked, “When were we going to consult? When were the leader officer and the noncoms in the second and third planes in our group going to get to know each other’s souls? We didn’t even drink tea together. They came from far away in the morning. Even then, they didn’t mix with us. Even when they were preparing to take off, they hardly spoke to us.”

The war in China was four years old when Tominaga Shozo, a former university student turned army officer, stood before his platoon of 20 men, stunned to see the evil in their eyes – eyes of leopards or tigers.

Part of his training under Second Lieutenant Tanaka was to learn to behead with dispatch Chinese prisoners of war and civilians. After Shozo had beheaded his first victim, he said something inside him changed. He gained strength, and no longer saw evil in the eyes of his men, nor in his ordering the platoon to tie live prisoners to posts to be used for bayonet practice.

Doctor Yusaka Ken told of being sent to the southern part of Shansi province in China, Jan.1, 1942, where civilians and Chinese soldiers were murdered, and vivisections were performed so that doctors could practice their craft. For some purposes, the civilians were alive when operated upon.

These were the soldiers our Allied men and women later met in Guam, Wake, Ragoon, Bataan, Mandalay, Singapore, Corregidor, etc.

A heartbreaking story concerns children. Between 1944 and 1945, 9,300 balloon bombs were launched, consisting of paper or rubberized cloth filled with hydrogen gas, some of which reached the northwestern part of the United States and Canada.

They were made by school girls in Japan, who lived in dormitories with no heat, and worked 12 hours straight, with no break, except to use the bathroom. They were given pep pills to keep awake. For supper, they might have old sweet potatoes that had turned black, mixed with rice.

Forty years later, they learned that the bombs they had made with such pride had started forest fires, and five children and a woman had been killed on a picnic in Oregon in May, 1945, when a bomb dropped and exploded.

Some of the women thought they should apologize, but others protested, pointing out the thousands of Japanese children who had died from American bombs.

They should have followed their hearts to remind us that innocent children had been used to kill innocent children. Does war get any worse than that?

Hayashi Shigeo tells of traveling to Nagasaki and visiting a Mitsubishi arsenal to photograph the torpedo plant. The man escorting him around said to Shigeo, “This is where we made the first torpedoes, the ones dropped on Pearl Harbor at the onset of the Pacific War.” Wrenches and other tools used by the workers were lying all around, as though they had been left there moments before. Finally, the escort said, “Mr. Hayashi, the very first torpedo was launched from here in Nagasaki, and in the end here’s where we were stabbed to death. We fought a stupid war, didn’t we?” The two just stood there in silence.

As do we.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy, and grant us peace. Amen.

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