No, not just Miyabe-san. All the men gunned down in charges on Guadalcanal, the ones who fell in the jungles of Imphal, the officers and sailors who went down with the battleship Yamato… This joy had been stolen from all the countless men who were lost to that war.
The tears wouldn’t stop. My wife got an odd look on her face but said nothing.
I stood up and walked to the edge of the schoolyard. I could still hear the happy shouts and cheers of the children behind me, and I was moved all over again.
I crouched down beside a large elm tree and cried and cried.
My sister had been sniffling by my side for some time by that point. As for me, my whole body was tense.
After a spell of silence, Nagai continued, “Towards the end of ’43, it was clear that Rabaul could no longer serve as a military base, and all the pilots were withdrawn. Those of us who remained didn’t even have any aircraft to send up against the enemy. Every day we dug tunnels in preparation for the anticipated land battle. But the Americans paid Rabaul no notice and instead headed straightaway to Saipan. Had they decided to attack Rabaul, I don’t think I’d be here today. Cut off from the supply lines, the island was forgotten by both sides. I stayed there until the end of the war, but every day was such a struggle…”
It was all I could do to nod. Nagai spoke again.
“Luckily, though, I was allowed to live on. After the war, I worked my fingers to the bone. The joy of coming home alive taught me the joy of civilian work. I’m sure I’m not the only one. I think many men had a heartfelt appreciation of their lives and their work. No, not just men. Women too.”
Nagai seemed to be savoring each word he uttered.
“After the war, Japan achieved a wonderful rebirth. But, Saeki-san, I believe that was thanks to all those men who brimmed with joy just to be living, working, and providing for their families. And that happiness came courtesy of the precious blood spilled by men like Miyabe-san.”
Nagai wiped tears from his eyes.
My sister and I were both at a loss for words. The room fell silent.
“There’s just one thing that really bothers me,” Nagai said abruptly.
I asked what that might be.
Nagai folded his arms. “Miyabe-san valued his life above all else. He made choices that allowed him to survive even if it got him branded a coward.” He cocked his head slightly. “Why on earth would someone like that volunteer to become a kamikaze? It’s odd if you think about it.”
Chapter 7
Total Lunacy
After the meeting with Nagai, I read all the books on the Pacific War that I could get my hands on. I wanted to learn how each of those battles had played out.
The more I read, the angrier I became. In most of the battles, the rank-and-file and non-commissioned officers were treated like they were disposable, like so many bullets. The high-ranking officers at Imperial HQ and the General Staff seemed to have never given a single thought to the lives of the troops. The brass never imagined that those infantrymen had families, people they loved. That’s why they forbade them from surrendering, forbade them from getting captured, and compelled them to choose suicide and going out in a blaze of glory. Men who had exhausted themselves in battle were essentially ordered to just die.
The morning after Ichiki Expeditionary Force was annihilated at Guadalcanal, there were many wounded men lying on the beach. When American troops approached, the Japanese soldiers, even though they were barely able to move, mustered the last of their strength and fired at the enemy. Those who were out of bullets blew themselves up with hand grenades. The Americans had no choice but to roll over the wounded with their tanks. Such things happened again and again.
Airmen, too, were similarly forced to fight until they died. Pilots were instructed to blow themselves up against their targets if their planes were damaged and they couldn’t make it back to base. For the most part, the graduates from the naval aviation training facilities and other programs became a list of war dead.
My grandfather had been a part of a grand generation. They had fought bravely in the war, then rebuilt a homeland which had been reduced to ashes.
But there were several things I couldn’t comprehend regarding the kamikazes. Some books stated they were all volunteers, while others said they had been forced to volunteer. Which had it been for my grandfather?
In any case, it was clear that my grandfather and others had neither the time nor the freedom to enjoy the prime of their lives.
Former Naval Lieutenant Junior Grade Masao Tanigawa was in a nursing home in Okayama Prefecture.
Keiko said she wanted to go with me to meet him. At some point, I had taken the lead for the project, and I was in charge of contacting the veterans’ groups.
We traveled to Okayama on the bullet train.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I said as I took my seat, “that I’m planning to turn down Takayama-san’s proposal to do a piece about us researching our grandfather.”
Keiko nodded.
“He might take offense, but frankly, I don’t like the idea of our grandfather being written up in some article.”
“He’ll understand,” Keiko said, a subtle shadow passing over her features.
“Did something happen between you two?”
“Not really,” she said, turning to look out the window. I could tell right away that she was lying. Keiko had never been able to mask her feelings, which is why I thought she was unsuited for a career in journalism.
“Did he say something?”
She shrugged in resignation. “He asked me to go out with him with marriage as the premise.”
I stared at her in shock. But I couldn’t tell from her expression if she was happy or not.
“Did you agree?”
Keiko shook her head. “I asked him to wait a little.”
“Are you just teasing him?”
“Of course not. I’m not some kid. But if he’s serious about marrying me, I can’t just give him a simple yes or no right away.”
“So how do you really feel?”
“He’s a good person, and he’s supportive about my work. So… I guess I’d be okay with it.” I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off. “I’m not discussing this anymore!”
“All right,” I said. I closed my eyes to try and get some shut-eye, but I found myself oddly agitated by the possibility that my sister might finally get married. I couldn’t tell if Takayama was right for Keiko. And anyway, it wasn’t my call.
I occasionally cracked an eyelid to look at her, but she spent the whole time staring out the window. It was the profile of a thirty-year-old woman. Even though she’s my sister, I thought she looked pretty.
Suddenly, I found myself remembering a scene from eight years ago.
Fujiki was doing his damnedest to comfort a sobbing Keiko. That was the day before Fujiki was to return to his hometown, the week after he’d taken us on that drive to Hakone. I had stopped by Grandpa’s office and decided to head up to the roof deck for the first time in a while. There were a good number of potted plants on the roof, and I liked to hang out alone up there.
As I approached the door to the roof, I heard what sounded like a woman crying. Instead of barging through the door I crept over to the window and peered out onto the roof. I saw my sister, crouched down, sobbing. Fujiki stood next to her, a troubled expression on his face. He seemed to be saying something but I couldn’t hear him. Each time he spoke, Keiko tearfully shook her head. At first I wondered if he had done something bad to her, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Keiko was crying like a child throwing a tantrum. It was the first time I’d ever seen my headstrong sister crying like that. And I had never seen Fujiki wearing such a sorrowful expression, either. I carefully tiptoed back down the stairs.