“I think the kamikaze pilots were all brainwashed, at least temporarily. That’s not their fault, of course. The blame lies with the era and the military establishment. And I think that after the war, people were deprogrammed, which is why Japan became a democracy and was able to achieve such an impressive recovery.”
“Give me a break,” Takeda muttered.
Takayama didn’t relent. “I think the use of special attack units was an act of terrorism. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that the kamikaze pilots themselves were terrorists of a sort. You can conclude as much from what they wrote in the wills they left behind. They weren’t lamenting the fact that they had to throw away their lives for their country. Actually, they were proud to do it. Proud to serve their country, proud to die a noble death for their country. You even get a whiff of heroism.”
“Shut up!” Takeda yelled. The waiter spun around, alarmed. “Stop talking like you know everything! We weren’t brainwashed. Nothing of the sort.”
“But I think it’s evident from reading the wills of the kamikaze pilots that they had the mindset of martyrs.”
“You jackass! You really think that the kamikaze pilots were expressing their true feelings in those wills?” Takeda shouted, his face turning bright crimson. Other patrons in the lounge turned to stare, but he was totally oblivious. “Back then, our written correspondence was subject to inspection by superior officers before it could be sent out. Not infrequently, even our diaries and wills were read. Criticism of the war or the military was absolutely not permitted, as was even any hint of weakness unbecoming of a military man. Under such strict constraints, the kamikaze pilots had no choice but to express their feelings in between the lines. If you wanted to, you could glean them. Don’t be deceived by phrases like ‘serving the nation’ or ‘loyalty.’ You really think they were happy to die just because they wrote as much? And you call yourself a reporter. Don’t you have any imagination at all? Hell, do you even have a human heart?”
Takeda’s voice was trembling with anger. His wife gently placed a hand on his arm.
Takayama defiantly leaned forward. “Then, if they weren’t happy to be going off to their deaths, why did they bother to write that they were?”
“Do you really expect them to have written things like ‘I don’t want to die! And I’m so sad about it!’ in the last letters to the poor families they were leaving behind? Can’t you even imagine how much their parents would have suffered if they did? How painful it would have been to learn that the sons that they had raised with such loving care had died tormented? Can’t you understand that when faced with their deaths, they at least wanted their parents to think that they’d gone to their deaths with clear hearts and minds?”
Takeda hollered, “Even if they couldn’t be honest and say that they didn’t want to die, their loving families could tell. How? Because most of those wills express boundless appreciation for loved ones. How could anyone who was actually happy to go off and die write such letters brimming with love?”
Takeda was in tears. Even the waiter had been staring at him for some time.
“You call yourself a reporter? Yet you’re incapable of reading between the lines written by men doing their damnedest to suppress the chaos in their hearts, in the precious few hours they had left, to say something to their families?”
In response to Takeda’s tearful speech, a cool smile crept up Takayama’s face. “I take sentences at face value. That’s how the written word works. On the day of their sortie, some pilots wrote that ‘Today is a day of tremendous joy.’ Some expressed delight at the prospect of sacrificing their lives for the sake of the Emperor. Many, many kamikazes wrote very similar things. Their sentiments are the same as those terrorists who style themselves martyrs.”
“You dumbass!” Takeda slapped his open hand onto the table, rattling the china. The waiter took an instinctive step forward. Everyone sitting nearby had been staring at our table for quite some time. “Terrorists? Stop spewing that garbage. Terrorists massacre ordinary civilians. They target the lives of innocent people. That’s why the attacks on the Twin Towers are considered an act of terrorism. Yes or no?”
“Yes. Those were terrorists.”
“The targets of our kamikaze units were not buildings where innocent civilians lived or worked. We targeted aircraft carriers loaded with bombers and fighters. The American carriers launched aircraft that conducted raids on our mainland, indiscriminately bombing and strafing ordinary citizens. Are you really trying to tell me the American military were just innocent people?”
Takayama was momentarily lost for an answer. Takeda continued, “An aircraft carrier is a terrifying weapon capable of mass murder. We targeted our attacks on those extremely powerful killing machines. Plus, the kamikazes sortied in planes of inferior performance, fitted with heavy ordnance, with only a very minimal fighter escort. They were attacked by several times their number of enemy fighters; and if they somehow managed to evade those attacks, they then faced an intense barrage of anti-aircraft fire. That is in no way the same as flying into those defenseless World Trade Center buildings!”
“But you have to admit that they share a common aspect in that both groups were willing to give up their lives for their bel—”
“Shut up!” Takeda cut him off. “Despite your being totally ignorant of where you stand in the world at large, you act like you’re a champion of justice or something. You know what, I think it was the media that caused that war. After the Russo-Japanese War, when the Portsmouth Peace Talks convened, many newspapers expressed intense anger over the terms. ‘Why should we Japanese swallow such lousy conditions?’ they all argued on their pages. Many people were riled up by such articles, and anti-government riots erupted all across the country. They set fire to the Hibiya Public Hall, and Jutaro Komura, who signed the peace treaty with Russia, was subjected to nationwide censure. The only antiwar paper then was Soho Tokutomi’s Kokumin Shinbun, and their offices were set on fire, too.”
“But that was—” Takayama tried to get in a word, but Takeda kept on talking.
“I think that series of events was a watershed moment for Japan. After that, most of the population started to applaud the idea of going to war.
“And then the ‘May 15 Incident’ happened. In objection to the political leadership, which was swerving from the invasion track and heading toward accepting arms control, young military officers assassinated the prime minister. He tried to reason with them, but they answered, ‘Dialogue is useless’ and shot him. If that wasn’t a military coup d’état, then what was it?
“Yet most newspapers heralded those youths as heroes and advocated for reduced sentences. Stirred up by the media, the people became caught up in a movement to extenuate the punishment, sending over 70,000 petitions to the court. Influenced by the public’s opinion, the court handed down extremely light sentences to the perpetrators. It’s said that the abnormal commutation gave rise to the February 26 Incident and the rise of Japanese militarism. Even now, there’s still a tendency in the media to treat the ringleaders of the February 26 Incident as warriors with beautiful hearts full of patriotism. It’s a sign of how powerful the prevailing opinion was at the time. After that, no one dared to oppose the excesses of the military, and I mean every politician and journalist. Japan became entirely militaristic, and by the time people started to realize that it wasn’t such a good idea, it was far too late to do anything about it. And who was responsible for turning the military establishment into such a monster? The newspapers and the populace that the media riled up.”