Kokumin Choyo Rei
National Service Draft Ordinance
March 1938
Though introspective, Hideki did not think of his family and home during his training save one time—when his sister Chisato was about to leave Japan. He resolved to write her in the morning, more in an effort to strengthen his resolve than out of any concern for her.
“What a stupid, stupid little girl,” he growled in bed the night before the wedding. The Japanese government had recently proclaimed that all citizens must fight to the last. No one was to surrender, no one was to run away. Better to die by suicide if necessary. Glory to the Emperor; glory to Japan in the coming fight.
Hideki got out of bed, the darkness holding him in place before he could see the moonlight flowing in through a window. He gingerly felt his way towards the light. With arms and hands on the sill, he strained to see outside. His eyes soon adjusted to the night, and he saw the exercise fields and other barracks. The moon was high, bright as a shining disk.
He imagined the glow of the Emperor radiating His lustre over all of Japan and beyond. His protective influence covered all of Asia. And Hideki resolved, once again, to see to it that the sphere of influence remained with Japan like a glorious beacon for the world to see.
Chikuso! Damn it! Live with the gaijin, be a keto, that’s your choice. A Canadian, he snarled under his breath. In the end, he sent no acknowledgement let alone a note of well-wishes to his sister. He did harbour a fantasy about skewering the husband with his bayonet in battle, the blood spewing out of the body and splattering the ground.
***
On a fine early May morning, the soldiers rose as usual from their beds and made ready to assemble on the parade grounds. There was only a hint of summer humidity in the barracks.
“Hey, Take-san, wake up,” Hideki shouted at his friend. “Didn’t you hear reveille?”
“Huh…uh…no…I…,” he muttered groggily. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Well, get a-moving. You don’t want to be late for line-up outside. There’ll be hell to pay if you’re not there!”
The sun was intense, eyes squinted in its glare. The cool wind reminded everyone of spring with new growth and the sakura blossoms of Arashiyama. Hideki ran out while Takeuchi Shigeru, half-dressed, stumbled along the way.
They soon joined the rest of the troops to fall smartly into the line awaiting the rituals of the day. No one was sharply dressed; the jackets and pants were spotted with mud from last night’s maneuvers and generally disheveled; the boots scuffed, shirts sweat-stained, the uniform creased, crusted, and wrinkled. Some sported a day or two growth of beard.
It was about two weeks before the end of training. Accordingly, each man had marked each day either physically or mentally. The end was soon, and they would be in the war at last.
The Lieutenant stood rigidly in front of the assembly. He turned to Sgt. Hayashi and softly ordered him to begin.
“Before we all recite the Gunjin Chokuyu to honour the Emperor,” the sergeant barked, “let’s hear from a recruit.
“Takeuchi, step forward!”
Shigeru suddenly paid attention surprised to hear his name being singled out. His face heated red; sweat beads began to appear from under the peak of his cap as he awkwardly stepped forward.
“Stand here,” Hayashi commanded as he pointed to the middle in front of the troops.
Shigeru moved into position.
“Begin the recitation!”
Everyone could see that his mind raced to remember the words. He began slowly without much confidence.
“Huh…the soldier and sailor should consider…loyalty their duty...essential duty. A soldier or a sailor in whom this spirit is not strong is a mere puppet—
“Stop right there!” Hayashi barked. “You have forgotten the second lines and dropped some words from the next!”
Shigeru hung his head in shame.
“How long have you been here, Takeuchi?”
“About three months,” he muttered.
“How long?” the sergeant shouted.
“Three months, Sergeant!” he snapped.
“Three months and every morning I hear you flub our most sacred code of ethics. You have nothing in your head. It is like a sieve. It cannot hold anything. You are a disgrace. I don’t know why you wear that uniform. You are such an ass. A bakatare. A nakimushi.
“Get back in line, Insect. Everyone else recite the Imperial Rescript! I will be listening.”
Some of the soldiers managed to snicker, but Hideki lowered his head and closed his eyes. When next he looked, he saw tears run down Shigeru’s cheeks as everyone began to go through the Gunjin Chokuyu oath.
That evening, Shigeru was inconsolable. He managed to hold back the tears during dinner, but Hideki could see all the soldiers turn away from the two. When it was “Lights Out”, Shigeru wept softly into his pillow. Hideki could do nothing except say, “Faith equals strength.”—the old saying they had said to one another for encouragement back in the school training days. Those days seemed like a thousand years ago.
***
Takeuchi Shigeru performed his duties perfunctorily and always in a gloomy mood, his face sullen and brooding. He lacked energy and struggled to keep up during the daily exercises. Because of his lethargy, he often stumbled over a task, or he misspoke. And every time his behaviour drew the ire of Sgt. Hayashi.
“Takeuchi, you little insect, get moving. Maybe you need a little encouragement.” He then baton-whipped Shigeru until he laid on the ground as a quivering and bloody lump. Sgt. Hayashi grimaced with no sympathy.
Hideki was always there to help his friend stand up and escort him away from the glare of the sergeant and others. Despite the torment and scrutiny, Take-san did memorize the Imperial Rescript, reciting it in a bumbling manner but he did get through it; he always ended in tears, sometimes quietly, sometimes intensely.
Sgt. Hayashi in turn meted out inappropriate punishment until Shigeru grew apathetic to it all. Shigeru simply closed his eyes and took it before crumbling to the ground.
Hideki did not know what would happen to his friend, but he resolved to be at his side no matter what. Unfortunately, he could not have foreseen what soon followed.
***
The day before the last day, Sgt. Hayashi informed the men that they would pass in review before dignitaries from army headquarters and the government. They were then to be allowed to return home to say goodbye to loved ones for two days.
Upon return, each battalion was assigned to a division to be sent to Manchukuo or China, the destination was not announced.
“You hear that Take-san?” Hideki said enthusiastically. “China! That’s where the Emperor needs us. Glory is coming!”
Shigeru just grunted.
That night when the moon was in its half-phase, Hideki decided not to go home. He suspected his parents were apathetic. They didn’t care what he did one way or the other. Only one sister remained, and he had already given her instructions about what to do in his absence. He did write a letter, even though the light was thin.
To the household,
I am about to embark on the glorious expedition of my life. I cannot tell you where, you understand, but rest assured, I am bound to do my duty to the Emperor no matter what happens to me.
I am sure my sisters are wasting their lives in not learning how to defend their homeland. In fact, Chisato-chan is now in enemy territory. Mark my words, there is a war coming with the forces of Europe and North America. You must be prepared to fight to the end, but do not be alarmed. I pledge that I and my fellow soldiers will fight to the death not to let harm come to Japan. We shall be victorious in the end for we are superior in every way to the foreign soldier.
I hope that we will all be reunited as a family one day when all is said and done.
Akamatsu Hideki
The last line seemed too sentimental for him, but let it stand since correcting it meant starting over again. It didn’t matter anyway. They would have his photograph to venerate.
His sleep was shallow later that night. When he felt himself slowly descending into the murk of a dream, a rustling and noise startled him awake. He looked to his left and found that Shigeru had sat up on his cot.
He was in his undershirt and dorosu, (baggy underwear). The sheen of perspiration painted his face even in the dull light. He seemed to burn with humiliation. But his face was contorted with determination. It strained with the exertion.
Hideki said nothing as Shigeru tied a hachimaki around his head. Where he got it was unknown. The headband was blank and not with the usual red sun emblazoned. Hideki remained motionless as his friend stood and moved to his footlocker.
From inside it, he pulled out his bayonet. It glittered in the pale moonlight. He shuffled to the large room adjacent to the sleeping area.
Hideki got up after a while and followed his friend, with a feeling of apprehension in the pit of his stomach. As he walked into the dressing room, the sweet smell of incense clouded his nose. Yet he saw no smoke curling in the air. It was dark, so he ignored the fact. The Buddha is near.
A single light bulb blazed in the room. Shigeru sat on his knees in the pool of light. He placed the blade on a handkerchief on the floor before him. Closing his eyes, he started to recite the Imperial Rescript.
The soldier and sailor should consider loyalty their essential duty. Who that is born in this land can be wanting in the spirit of grateful service to it? No soldier or sailor, especially, can be considered efficient unless this spirit be strong within him. A soldier or a sailor in whom this spirit is not strong, however skilled in art or proficient in science, is a mere puppet; and a body of soldiers or sailors wanting in loyalty, however well ordered and disciplined it may be, is in an emergency no better than a rabble. Remember that, as the protection of the state and the maintenance of its power depend upon the strength of its arms, the growth or decline of this strength must affect the nation’s destiny for good or for evil; therefore, neither be led astray by current opinions nor meddle in politics, but with single heart fulfill your essential duty of loyalty, and bear in mind that duty is weightier than a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather. Never by failing in moral principle fall into disgrace and bring dishonor upon your name.
Hideki stood mesmerized and couldn’t help but listen intently. Remarkably, Shigeru did not make a single mistake: no stumbling over a word, no dropping of a word or two, no forgetting of a passage or phrase for that matter. Take’s eyes blazed with conviction and patriotism. His voice growled with purpose, concentrating on the result.
Hideki was impressed, but it did worry him when Shigeru reached down for the bayonet with one hand and lifting his undershirt with the other.
“Take-gun!” he yelled and rushed forward.
Shigeru was shaken by the interruption and pointed thes blade at his intruder.
“What’re you doing?” Hideki said excitedly as he stopped in his tracks at the threat.
With feverish eyes, Shigeru glared at his friend with anger rising in the heat of the moment. “The sword is the soul of the Emperor! The heart of Japan!”
“It’s a bayonet!” he yelled as the realization of what his friend was about to do entered his mind. “Not a sword!”
Others awoke and began to move to the locker room. A small crowd of men who had stayed behind gathered but remained silent.
“It is the steel of the samurai. Bushido!” The samurai spirit.
“Don’t do it!” And Hideki moved forward to stop him.
But it was too late. Shigeru raised his bayonet and sliced into his neck and across his throat. A gush of blood came out and splattered upon the floor. He gasped for air with a sickening sound. His body toppled over as his eyes went blank.
Hideki screamed as he reached for his friend.
***
He pressed his palms against his eyes in a useless attempt to stop the tears. His friend was dead. Seppuku. Where is the glory in that? All the blood, the soiled bayonet, the ugly gash in his throat. Hideki felt drained, like all his conviction flowed out of him and pooled around his body.
His superior officers ordered him to go home for a week before he was to ship out with his comrades. His visit did not go well.
He stood in front of his father sullen and unsteady.
“Is something wrong, Hideki-gun?”
The voice was soft, kind. It felt inviting, open, and sincere.
Hideki shuffled a bit, looked downcast, before speaking. “Otousan, my friend…he committed seppuku.”
“Why?” Gunhei asked as he gazed at his son with surprised kindness.
“He dishonoured himself…with his inability to recite the Rescript. He never could recite it perfectly.”
“Yes, difficult.”
“But don’t you see, Father, that such a thing doesn’t matter? He was a good soldier, willing to do his duty. If it results in a meaningless death, what good is there in being a soldier in His Majesty’s army?”
“What are you saying?”
“I…I…I want to get out.”
“Nanja?” Gunhei slammed with anger. “Desert? You want to desert, because there’s no way they’ll let you go.”
“Can’t you do something? You have influence,” he said in a pleading tone.
“Not that kind of influence.”
“But…”
“Do you want to bring shame to this family? Think of what will happen to your mother, your sisters and especially me! We’ll never be able to go anywhere, do anything. Or even show ourselves.
“Are you that selfish? You made the decision to join the army. I tried to convince you otherwise. But you went ahead…”
Hideki shook with sorrow. He could not stop the tears from streaming down his face.
Gunhei grabbed his son by the shoulders and angrily shouted, “Men do not cry!”
Hideki suddenly stopped and regained control of his emotions. He had no choice to report for camp and ready himself for transportation to China.