Wamoru Shigemitsu’s wooden leg caused him trouble as he climbed the steep gang plank leading to the broad deck of the U. S. S. Missouri. MacArthur’s hand shook as he read from a single sheet of paper. I remember that, and the way the Allied representatives stood stern-faced before their enemies. I remember gray skies that brooded over the historic scene, but relented and cleared so that the sun shone brightly as MacArthur intoned “these proceedings are closed.”
History books won’t relate it that way. They will say that on Sept. 2, 1945, west longitude time, military representatives of the Allied powers accepted the surrender of imperial Japan, ending the costliest, bloodiest war in world history.
It was more than that, however. As a young marine said, as his landing boat splashed through the surf heading toward the Japanese naval base, Yokosuka, two days before, “Thank God there are no shell splashes.” As a white-uniformed sailor aboard the Missouri said, as he watched the Allied representatives step up one by one to sign the surrender instrument, “This is the biggest show they ever threw. This is history and now I can go home.”
This is more than peace. This is the end of the war. That’s what the young marine meant. No more shells beside the boat to splash his buddies with tearing shrapnel. This meant no more men dying, no more separation from loved ones, no more hate.
The end of the war came with stunning suddenness. It caught military men and war correspondents completely by surprise. In Manila the Associated Press staff wrote the preliminary story as Hirohito’s emissaries received final instructions for the surrender, then they caught planes for Japan.
In Guam the AP’s western Pacific staff wrote of the stunned but joyful reaction of the Navy and within two hours after President Truman announced that Japan had agreed to surrender AP correspondents were aboard a ship heading for Japan.
Japan was the story. There was only one question—what will the reaction of the Japanese be?
It was a dangerous undertaking, a great gamble, and everyone knew it was the Emperor’s word that Japan was ready for peace against the militarists whose fanaticism had been displayed a thousand times in the jungle and by Kamikaze suiciders in the air.
As the elite of Allied military leaders in the Pacific gathered aboard the Missouri in Tokyo Bay I thought what one Kamikaze could do. In one successful attack he could wipe out the expert leadership that had been built up by trial and error throughout the war years.
MacArthur, Nimitz, Spaatz. Halsey, Wainwright, Kreuger, Eichelberger, Kenney, to say nothing of others, would make the greatest collective target any Kamikaze could have.
That was the test. That was the gamble.
Like a well-planned show on the New York stage, the Missouri was set when ceremony time came. Over 300 correspondents—the AP alone had fifteen—hung from the gun turrets, or stood on raised platforms, taking notes such as “0843 MacArthur comes aboard, walks swiftly to Admiral’s quarters; Wainwright arrives, trips slightly on step, recovers self; Eichelberger stands tall among American officers. What’s he thinking?”
I once watched him at Buna shooting at a Jap running for cover.
“0850 Japanese delegation comes alongside.”
Japan was once the third mightiest naval power and after Pearl Harbor probably was first. But the Japanese representatives came alongside in a dark gray whale-boat. There could be no better symbol of Japan’s fall.
With curiosity, I watched Foreign Minister Shigemitsu, who lost his leg when a Korean anarchist threw a bomb in Shanghai in 1932. He had difficulty negotiating the gangplank, slowed up the diplomats, Generals and Admirals behind him. This was history in the making, but for a moment I only thought; here was a handful of men of the enemy standing under mighty 16-inch guns of the battleship, surrounded by nattily-dressed, stern-faced military leaders of the Allied powers, and they didn’t have a friend on the entire ship.
They symbolized the nation they represented—friendless, alone, conquered, beaten.
What did Wainwright think, standing, thin, emaciated, after four years of Japanese brutality in a prison camp? What did British General Percival think, he who reportedly was forced to appear before Yamashita barefooted to surrender Singapore?
MacArthur was magnificent in his dignity, his sternness.
“It is my earnest hope, and indeed the hope of all mankind, that from this solemn occasion a better world shall emerge out of the blood and carnage of the past… a world founded upon faith and understanding… a world dedicated to the dignity of man and the fulfillment of his most cherished wish… for freedom, tolerance and justice,” he said.
Actual signing was mere formality. Shigemitsu takes off his silk top hat, bares his right hand, signs; MacArthur asks Percival and Wainwright to stand beside him as he signs, gives each a pen; Nimitz signs, and so on to the end.
The surrender was over, but the world didn’t know it, although waiting anxiously. That was the job for the war correspondents who collectively had covered every major action of the entire war against Japan. Where the military leaders left off the correspondents took up, to tell the greatest story in the world. Peace was here…
The correspondents had one hour and 12 minutes to return to their bases and write their stories before the 10:30 release time. The AP’s correspondents attached to MacArthur stepped aboard a destroyer and headed swiftly for Yokohoma. Those attached to Nimitz boarded small boats and set out for the communications ship Ancon.
“URGENT PRESS ASSOCIATED SAN FRANCISCO FLASH SURRENDER SIGNED REPEAT SURRENDER SIGNED.”
It was 1830 in San Francisco, 2130 in New York. As fast as veteran correspondents could write they poured out details of the historic event. Every men knew he had just seen the greatest event in his career. At home they wanted every word, What did MacArthur wear? Khaki shirt, open at the neck, khaki trousers, elaboratedly braided cap, his own design. What were the Japanese like? Generals were booted, spurred, wore dark green uniforms; diplomats formal clothing, appearing well worn.
Who signed first? Shigemitsu for Japan, MacArthur for the Allies, Nimitz for the United States. Was there a hitch? The Canadian representative signed on the wrong line but General Sutherland straightened it out with a few strokes of the pen.
The AP staff sent thousands of words across the air to San Francisco. At home it was V-J Day, out here it was Sunday, a historic day when correspondents were writing the most important stories of their lives.
The staff left the ships and moved ashore to tell the story of the occupation.
Puzzling to everyone was the attitude of the Japanese. A few days before they had been enemies. Now they were friendly, cooperative, anxious to please. Why? Their Emperor had told them to be friendly and they were accepting him at his word.
But MacArthur still was gambling. There were three million armed Japanese in Japan and barely 25,000 Americans. Americans in the United States demanded an iron fist attitude. They needed a story to explain that it was better to wait until more Americans arrived and more Japanese disarmed.
News was breaking everywhere. Hennessy (Duane Hennessy, AP correspondent) attempted to telephone the Imperial Palace and was told he couldn’t speak to the Emperor. O’Malley (Richard O’Malley, also of the AP) drank probably the first toast to President Truman in Japan when he visited Mayor Yokosuka of Tokyo.
All during the war the Japanese people had been fed government propaganda. They needed the truth and the AP could give it to them. With the High Command’s permission, the AP began serving unbiased, unprejudiced news to Tokyo’s major newspapers. For the first time in over four years the Japanese people were beginning to receive not propaganda but truth. To the newspapers went the story of the occupation of Tokyo.
There was no march of victors through the streets. Quietly, without fanfare, the First Cavalry Division (dismounted) took up places inside the once great city, now 80 per cent destroyed. Almost without the Japanese people knowing it, Americans moved in to take control.
MacArthur rode into the capital alone with only Japanese police standing along the road to protect him.
At the embassy, which is on the only piece of American soil in all Japan, he gave directions to Gen. Eichelberger:
“Have our country’s flag unfurled in Tokyo’s sun. Let it wave in its full glory as a symbol of hope for the oppressed and as a harbinger of victory for the right.”
★★★
Murlin Spencer’s first Pacific assignment was at Gen. MacArthur’s headquarters in Australia… he went on back with the General to the Philippines, via Buna, Cape Gloucester, New Britain, Hollandia, Leyte… many times under fire… finally witnessed the surrender in Tokyo Bay… he is a native of Fort Morgan, Colo.