The Grand Suicide of the One Hundred Million
Iwo Jima was a small, volcanic island south of Japan. It was remote even if it was part of the Ogasawara Archipelago, mere dots in the Pacific south of Tokyo. Chiemi had never heard of it until it appeared in the papers as a “Glorious battle for the soul of Japan”. The three airfields situated there made it of paramount importance. She understood why the Americans wanted it. Attacks on the Japanese main islands would soon follow. The “arch” of the archipelago, like a sword, pointed straight at the heart of Japan.
After the American victory, the US military began a systematic bombing campaign across the country. Walls closed in on Japan. The misinformation machine could not deny the attacks, even though the national newspapers tried.
Victory over Nagoya as our glorious military shot down enemy bombers.
Chiemi gnashed her teeth at the lies.
The air raid sirens blared day and night. To Chiemi, it seemed like Hiroshima screamed in fear and pain. Kure became the primary target in her area since it was a ship-building town. She wondered about the Kimuras, her in-laws.
Some were false alarms, others not. There was always a pause between the sirens and the explosions. Chiemi insisted that the children wear helmets. The boys loved playing Soldier, while the girls thought they looked ugly. In any case, they followed Chiemi’s wishes.
***
Chiemi found solace in two sanctuaries, two places of refuge, two Sangha. The Akamatsu Compound was one. Her twin sons were nearly five and naughty as could be expected. They ran everywhere and upset things, much to the distress of their grandmother. But Chiemi didn’t mind. She would grab one or two in mid-flight and hug them tightly even as they struggled to get free.
Kuniya seemed to be becoming the more handsome of the two. Both were lovable, as most children were, but Kuniya possessed a solid body with well-defined leg muscles, kind eyes, and wide, friendly smile. It was probably Chiemi’s imagination, but Takeshi always seemed sullen, eyes always downcast, even if he was revelling in play.
She quite often said to one or both, “Do not be a soldier. Never.” She never explained why. She talked about neither their uncle nor their warrior ancestors.
The Mizuyabu girls were becoming beautiful teenagers. Mitsue wore her hair long, which showed off her soft feminine features. She was kind and demure. Keiko was more tomboy than her sister, but her constant running, jumping, and exercising bestowed upon her a fine figure. In front of their elders, they were always demure, which served to charm anyone who met them.
Chiemi’s other sanctuary was the hospital. She enjoyed the work and the people there. The place and staff were her true Sangha. She knew she confronted the effects of war daily but nursing the wounded made her work harder.
Dr. Shima was more and more present, probably because more and more injured soldiers came as patients. His constant smile was replaced with a permanent scowl. With so many more questions about every patient’s condition, a heightened sense of urgency emerged in the man’s voice.
Every morning, he addressed the usual gathering of personnel and patients. His speech came right after the Morning Pledge.
The enemy’s counter-offenses are becoming more massive and widespread. Now, in a battle of might, the more valiant soldiers there are the stronger. But it’s our spiritual power that produces that warrior might. Every single one of you must become an outstanding human being. Only strict discipline, a vigilant attitude, an unwavering sense of responsibility, and a respectful silent hospital will yield good health and solid bodies. Always bear that in mind during this emergency. I want all of you to help the soldiers to recover fully, to get them on their feet so that they may return to the fight. And you patients, endeavour to make your bodies whole, gain strength, and restore your fighting spirit. Above all else, improve your character. Follow the example of the WAR DEAD!
His words were always met with a cheer: Banzai! Chiemi only half-heartedly joined in the enthusiasm. She thought of her brother and his “example.” What were the benefits of his death? Hideki was wrapped in words, patriotic, heroic words, yet he was no more, obliterated from the world.
Still, she enjoyed working with the staff. Isomura Fumiko, Abe Eiko, and Fujiwara Ikue were her closest colleagues. The four tightened their bonds with each passing day.
Fumiko was short, a little heavy but full of good cheer and optimism. “When we win the war, everything will go back to where we were,” she would say just about every day. Eiko, by contrast, would worry a great deal. “The Americans wouldn’t bomb a hospital, would they? There’s a huge red cross painted on the roof. The bombers couldn’t miss that…could they?” And Ikuei, known to all as Iku-chan, saw the world in pastel hues, pink especially. Naïve perhaps, but she more than the others brought cheer to any patient she attended. The four made quite a team. They laughed a great deal in the lunchroom. They encouraged and supported one another even when they heard bombs exploding near the hospital.
“I’m scared,” Eiko whispered as they cowered in a corner of the hospital ward during an air raid. She was shaking. The explosions grew in intensity as if they were coming closer and closer to the building.
“Don’t worry, Eiko-chan,” Fumiko assured. “Our air force will defeat the American devils.”
Chiemi knew the “devils” now dominated the skies. The newspapers said over fifty enemy ships were destroyed during the invasion of Okinawa. That meant, to Chiemi’s calculations, that over fifty kamikaze pilots died and fifty planes were destroyed. Multiply that by three, since one plane couldn’t sink a ship, and that is probably the actual number of losses. Such a waste, Chiemi thought. Most pilots were boys, she reasoned, younger than Hideki.
“Kamikaze,” she sighed.
Fumiko picked up on the word. “Yes! Let’s sing the Kamikaze Song! You all remember it. The Mongol Invasions… We all learned it as kids. Come on, sing!” Her smile broadened with her spirit. She stood in defiance of the bombs bursting in the distance outside and gave forth full-throated:
Rising from all over China
A 100,000 Mongol riders advance.
Our nation in crisis
In the summer of 1281.
We have nothing to fear,
Our Kamakura warriors stand ready.
With our righteous military spirit,
We proclaim to the world
With a thunderous roar…
We vow to fight like demons,
To die defending our country…
Heaven is enraged.
The sea surges with massive waves.
The enemy approaches, Mongol hordes, 100,000 strong,
They disappear to the bottom of the sea…
The moon is clear above the Genkai Sea.
The ward reverberated with what sounded like a thousand voices. Besides her three friends, every patient who could was singing at the top of his lungs. Some had tears in their eyes. Other sat up as best as they could, bandages and plaster casts and all. Nothing could stop these men in their patriotic fervour.
After the singing stopped, Fumiko stood with raised arms and wet cheeks and led the crowd in shouting Banzai! The bombing coincidentally stopped. Iku-chan gushed, “It’s true, the gods are with us!” It was a glorious moment.
***
Chiemi watched the patients with a caring eye. She knew most of them by name. Her favourites were Hashimoto-san, Tabata-san, and Miki-san.
Hashimoto-san was young, too young to be in a war. He should’ve been working on his family’s rice farm in Fukui. His legs were shattered, probably cannon fire or an aerial bomb, though the doctors managed to save his limbs. How he survived was anyone’s guess. Yet he put much stronger men to shame. He displayed a determination to get healthy every day, to be whole again. His smooth youthful features strained with the effort to pull himself up to look around the room, to see the activity carried out by the attendants and medical staff. His arms were consequently muscular even if his upper body was frail. He was ambitious for the future, even wanting to rejoin his unit. Chiemi didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would probably never walk again.
Tabata-san was blind. Bandages wrapped around his head were applied in a vain attempt to heal him. They most likely gave him some hope, but he instinctively knew he would never again work in an optical factory near Atami. He possessed a gentle manner; he never wanted anyone to bother with him, even if they offered. His body too was frail, most others too. Not surprising.
Miki-san was the worst off. He was in a seemingly permanent coma. He just lay in his bed, still and silent. Chiemi found out he was the parent of two boys, like her, and was a businessman in Osaka. She saw in his face compassion, kindness…and optimism. At least, Chiemi imagined it was so.
Such were the ravages of war.
She always welled up with emotion every time she saw them. She couldn’t help herself, though she knew she must remain positive. The broken bodies and ruined lives, overall, made her emotional.
Things became considerably worse when the previous January the government began an intensive training program for the entire civilian population of Japan. The “last decisive battle” with the American invading forces was coming. Though the hospital staff was exempted from the training with spears and sticks, Chiemi watched a co-ordinated exercise in a nearby city square. Old men, old women, housewives, young teenagers, boys, and girls, in a formation of straight lines stabbed the air with their spears. Pathetic, but each wore a white bandana with the full red sun printed on the front. They all yelled a kiai, a battle cry. She supposed the drills uplifted their spirits. Really though, wooden spears could never stop a soldier with a flamethrower (as the Japanese soldiers on Iwo Jima found out).
The government and military leaders envisioned the entire population would be killed in the invasion; thus, the program was announced as the Grand Suicide of the One Hundred Million. A hundred million lives sacrificed for the Emperor.
Mizuyabu Aiko would die for the Emperor, willingly. She took in all the propaganda and threw it back in Chiemi’s face. She attended every patriotic rally, exercised with her spear religiously, and recited every pledge she heard. Chiemi couldn’t believe her three hospital friends, Fumiko, Eiko, and Iku-chan, would do the same. Being loyal to the Emperor was one thing but worshipping Him was another. She just couldn’t see the sense in getting killed for Him. She didn’t believe Hideki had.
Her children came to mind, and the two Mizuyabu girls. They had everything to live for. The girls would be women soon enough. She argued with Aiko, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. Her girls practiced with spears just as hard as their mother.
And her two sons—so kawaii (cute) playing with so much energy. Kuniya’s impish ways always touched her heart. She was always quick to forgive. She worried about Takeshi and his weak constitution, but she held firm in her belief that all would be well with him. She would not let them join the training squads. As much as Kuniya begged, she did not relent; she saw his great desire to play soldier, but that was anathema to her. She did admit his spirit made sense, given Hideki’s nature.
Aiko begged her; she would look after the boys, but Chiemi wouldn’t relent. She may be treasonous, but she couldn’t see sacrificing their lives for Japan. If she survived and they didn’t, what would she do?
Her mother stayed out of it.
The sea will not “surge with massive waves” and destroy the enemy. The kamikaze gods had forsaken them.