Army, 第二次世界大戦, 陸軍情報局, Military, Nisei, Uncle Suetaro, World War II

A Soul Lost in a Faraway Jungle – Part 2

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It is believed I occupy a potentially unique position when it comes to looking at history as it pertains to the Pacific Theater in World War II.  I am American first and foremost and have studied WWII history out of curiosity.  As expressed in the description of my blog, my viewpoint is from “one war, two countries, one family”.  However, one potential uniqueness is that I am able to read a bit of Japanese; you may be amazed to read what is written about WWII from the Japanese viewpoint of history. As such, I believe each battle will have in the background two broad, driving and dissimilar viewpoints: one from America and one from Japan.  The attack on Pearl Harbor is one example. But that is but the surface on war’s history – a high altitude view.  One that can be easily manipulated politically. But being on the ground dealing in face to face combat – or interrogation – leaves little to interpretation.  However, the fog of time challenges what is seen in a veteran’s mind.

Many of us here in the US interested in this world-wide cataclysm believe the Japanese soldier was a fanatic… freely willing to give his life for the Emperor.  The banzai charges.  The kamikaze attacks.  Individual soldiers throwing themselves under tanks with an explosive charge strapped onto their backs in a suicide attack. The truth of the matter is… they were farm boys.  City boys.  Just like our boys, they were drafted.  Instead of dying in “banzai attacks”, these “fanatical” Japanese soldiers wanted to go home just like our boys…but they couldn’t for fear of reprisal against their families.  Being a buck private in the Japanese army was brutal.  Perhaps not as brutal as the treatment they gave POWs but brutal nonetheless.  My Uncle warned his brother-in-law of that brutality in his farewell letter written on May 3, 1944.

A Look Into Imperial Japanese Army Morale

Indeed, as early as 1943, morale amongst the Japanese soldiers was very poor per this US Army G-2 intelligence report:

Morale
Excerpt from “Intelligence Bulletin, G-2 USAFPOA, Feb 1945”. The translation was performed by a Nisei in the Military Intelligence Service.  The captured Japanese document was dated October 24, 1943.

So perhaps things are not what they seem? I wonder how my Uncle Suetaro felt.

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The 41st Regiment, and therefore Uncle Suetaro, was stationed in Pyongyang, Korea in May, 1944 per Mr. Ota’s book.  It had become absorbed by the Imperial Japanese Army’s 30th Division. After sunset on May 8, 1944, the 41st Regiment boarded a steam locomotive bound for Pusan.  After one day’s ride, they arrived in Pusan on May 9 at 4:00 PM. All 5,000 troops soon began to cram onto a ship called the 日昌丸 (Nissho Maru) with a capacity of 3,000 troops…  in addition to supplies and their backpacks.  American intelligence reports indicate temperatures could rise to 120F within the holds.

oni ships1
oni ships2 The Nissho Maru is listed in this WWII era Division of Naval Intelligence report.

Per Mr. Ota’s reconstruction, the Nissho Maru departed Pusan on May 10 as part of a Imperial Japanese Navy fleet convoy. At about 3 PM the next day, the convoy docked in Moji Port in Kyushu, Japan to take on more supplies and hook up with other transports.  During this time, their destination was disclosed: Mindanao.  I am sure thoughts of seeing his mother was enveloping his mind…and heart.

Hiroshima was not far away. In the early dawn hours of May 13, the convoy – now consisting of eleven transports and four destroyer escorts, departed Moji Port.  They were vigilant against US submarines and proceeded at best possible speed.  They docked at Manila during the evening of the 18th.  The troops were already plagued with severe cases of sweat rash.

Soon, the 1st and 2nd Battalions on board the Nissho Maru headed to Cagayan with the 3rd Battalion and headquarters staff headed to Surigao on board the Tamatsu Maru.  Because they were splitting up and therefore would be separated from their regimental colors, the commanding officers boarded the Nissho Maru on the 19th as a send off.  They reached their destinations on the 23rd.  Soon, they were engaging Filipino guerrillas and they were extracting their toll on Uncle Suetaro’s regiment.  Per Mr. Ota, Captain Okamoto, a combat veteran from New Guinea was killed.  On July 10, Captain Ozaki, commanding officer of the 2nd Batallion, was also killed.  Short on officers, Captain Masaoka was appointed commanding officer of the remaining troops, numbering about 1,000.

October 20, 1944 – Invasion of Leyte

By the time of the invasion, General Yamashita had more than 400,000 soldiers stationed about the Philippines.  My Uncle Suetaro’s division, the 30th Division, was stationed on Mindanao to the south.  Yamashita had access to close to 900 planes, about 100 airfields (the largest of which was Tacloban on Leyte), and a naval fleet spearheaded by four carriers and seven battleships.  (However, this paled in comparison to the naval and air forces of the US. For instance, by the time of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, the US had 34 carriers at their disposal.) The invasion of Leyte was preceded by the US 6th Ranger Battalion taking three smaller islands to the east of Leyte Gulf on October 17, 1944. The weather was perfect and all hell broke lose on October 20, 1944 (A-Day) when MacArthur unleashed the Sixth Army’s X Corps, XXIV Corps and the 21st Infantry Regiment in three different assaults on three eastward facing beaches (see below):

invasion file
From “Leyte”, US Army publication.

General Yamashita was caught flat-footed.  He had anticipated MacArthur would invade Luzon first.  He had to scramble.  In fact, the invasion’s advance was so rapid that MacArthur made his walk onto the Leyte beach a “Hollywood-esque” event on the first day.  Yes, he actually had several takes done of wading ashore being the media seeker he was but it is true there was gunfire off in the distance. Fortunately for our troops, the Japanese had withdrawn her troops from shoreline defensive posts.  Even though there had been up to four hours of bombardment by the USN of the shore defenses, many fortifications – including pillboxes – were untouched per an A-Day communication to General Hap Arnold of the USAAF from General Kenney.  He concluded there would have been a blood bath similar to Tarawa if the Japanese hadn’t withdrawn.

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MacArthur pompously wading ashore on Leyte on October 20, 1944. He would shortly broadcast that speech where he says, “I have returned.” National Archive photo.

The first major coordinated Japanese Army troop movements (i.e., reinforcements) to Leyte involved troop transports, joined by units of Cruiser Division 16 out of Manila.  The objective was to transport about 2,550 soldiers (count per Mr. Ota) of the 41st Regiment from Cagayan, on Mindanao, to Ormoc.  Named Convoy TA 1 by the USN, it included heavy cruiser Aoba, light cruiser Kinu, Uranami, three new T.1-class transports (T.6, T.9, and T.10), and two new T.101-class transports, (T.101 and T.102). They were to be led by Rear Admiral Sakonju Naomasa in the Aoba but she had been torpedoed two days earlier by the USS Bream.  The flag had been transferred to Kinu. This convoy picked up the surviving 1st and 2nd Battalion members of the 30th Division at Cagayan, Mindanao on October 25th and arrived at Ormoc.  Fortunately, the Division had been alerted the day before so they were ready.  Uncle Suetaro had apparently been in the the 3rd Echelon, 1st wave of five transports that disembarked on the 26th in Ormoc.

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Source: Reports of General MacArthur.

Per Mr. Ota and under the command of Lt. General Shiro Makino, Uncle Suetaro’s 41st Regiment headed towards Tacloban.  He could not have foreseen what was ahead of him: swamps, jungle, mud, illness, starvation…and the US Sixth Army. …and most poignantly, up against my dad’s US 8th Army’s Nisei’s in the Military Intelligence Service. To be continued in Part 3. (Note: The Battle of Leyte Gulf took place from October 23 to 26, 1944.  The immense Japanese battleship Yamato was reportedly only a few hours from Ormoc Bay when she inexplicably turned back during this epic sea battle.)

Part 1 is HERE.

Part 3 is HERE.

Part 4 is HERE.

Part 5 is HERE.

Epilogue is HERE.

第二次世界大戦, 陸軍情報局, Family, Marines, Uncle Suetaro, World War II

A Soul Lost in a Faraway Jungle – Part 1

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Photo by Eugene Smith, USMC

A mother during World War II could suffer no greater anguish than receiving a telegram that her son was not killed but rather, deemed missing in action.

One irony rests with the fact we were the victors in World War II.  While certainly not in all instances, we have a large percentage of intact battle records – and survivors – to help identify (or locate) remains largely because we were victors.

For us here in the US, roughly 420,000 are deemed as killed in action during World War II.  However, at one time, there were roughly 80,000 classified as missing in action.  There is a second irony here.  As seen in the solemn photograph above, parts of a vibrant yet unidentifiable son were brought to this battlefield cemetery for burial.  In other words, we have his remains; his name, however, is not on the grave marker.  His name is on the list of those missing in action.

The most horrible anguish for a mother, in my opinion, is knowing he could not be found or not knowing where or how he met his end.  Her son physically will be forever alone where he perished, never to be seen again… to be taken back over time into the earth from whence he came.

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Absence of Records

Japan was at the losing end of the war (as was Nazi Germany).  Japan’s major cities were obliterated as were her paper records unless underground or well protected against fire.  To further exacerbate the bleakness of this situation, most combat notes or reports written by Japanese officers at a front never made it back to Japan for the most part, especially if the unit was disseminated.  Further, as a unit became closer to annihilation, Japanese army headquarters would lose all contact.

On the other hand, many of these written reports made it into US hands and used as intelligence against the Japanese themselves; US Army soldiers were under orders to retrieve all such material.  Such documents were taken from those who surrendered or from overrun positions.  The most gruesome was having to remove it from a dead soldier – or what was left of him.

The end result was Japanese headquarters more often than not knew little or nothing of what happened to individual soldiers or sailors – especially when it came to NCOs, or Non-Commissioned Officers.

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Actual American WWII dog tag recently recovered. From “http://www.powmiaawareness.org”

American military wore dog tags (a set of two) towards war’s end, complete with name, home town and serial number to help with identification.  Japanese NCOs – like my Uncle Suetaro – also wore “ID tags”, called 認識票 (Ninshikihyo).

WWII Luzon Captured Japanese Artifact

Unlike the machine stamped American tags, all of the Japanese tags were stamped by hand with a small chisel and hammer.  Most of all, these NCO tags generally only had their assigned regiment number, possibly a unit number and a serial number.  No name.

Their fates disappeared with the deaths of their units.

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Uncle Suetaro is on the high with Dad standing next to him. They are in front of my grandparent's barber on King St and Maynard in Seattle. Circa 1921. The shop was inside Hotel Fujii (no longer standing).
Uncle Suetaro is on the high chair with Dad standing next to him. They are in front of my grandparent’s barbershop on King St and Maynard in Seattle. Circa 1923. The shop was inside Hotel Fujii (no longer standing).

The Discoveries

The void of not knowing how or exactly where my Uncle Suetaro was killed has plagued me for five years now.  Yes, I was unaware that dad had a younger brother let alone killed as a Japanese soldier until then.

My Hiroshima cousins, Masako, Kiyoshi, Toshiro and Masako’s daughter Izumi, believed Uncle Suetaro met his end near a village called Villaba on Leyte, thirty days before war’s end on July 15, 1945.  This was essentially based on word of mouth.  Any other information had been lost in the seven decades since his tragic death.  (I believe my father knew more specifics about his death having heard it directly from my grandmother and his older sister, Michie, in 1947.  He refuses to talk about it.)

However, in November last year, we renewed interest in a link we found on a Japanese website.  Izumi took the initiative and pursued it.  It led to an actual memorial association started by the approximately 20 survivors of my Uncle’s unit, the 41st Regiment.

Long story short, it turns out there is one man, Mr. Yusuke Ota, who had also taken a huge interest in the Hiroshima-based 41st Regiment.  He was just about to publish a book on the regiment when Izumi made contact with him, with well over 500 pages of data and history he’s uncovered .

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Mr. Ota’s book, “The Eternal 41st”.

In addition to buying our family ten copies of his book (in vertically written Japanese, unfortunately), Izumi began a dialogue with the author, Mr. Ota.  Mr. Ota was gracious enough to share his thoughts on our Uncle Suetaro based upon our vintage photos.

The Weapon

After viewing the photos and in his opinion, Uncle Suetaro was part of an anti-tank gun squad manning a Type 94 37mm anti-tank gun based on a German design.  In the early part of our war with Japan, the 37mm was deadly against our antiquated Stuart and early Sherman tank models.

A partially restored Type 94 37mm anti-tank gun.  It was already obsolete by the time the US entered the war.  From http://www.tomboy205.cocolog-nifty.com

The photos below were taken in Japan and were scanned from my Hiroshima Grandmother Kono’s photo album.  I believe Uncle Suetaro gave them to her:

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Our family assumes the soldiers pictured were from Uncle Suetaro’s 41st Regiment. A 37mm anti-tank gun is behind them. On the backside, Uncle wrote “石手川ニテ、昭和18六月二十三日”, or “taken at Ishite River, June 23, 1943”. Ishite River is in the current Ehime Prefecture of Japan.
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On the back side, Uncle Suetaro wrote, “温泉郡浅海村” or “Onsengun Asanamimura” as the location for this training exercise in Japan. We cannot tell if he is pictured. It is now part of the Ehime Prefecture. Dated August 19, 1943.

The 37mm anti-tank gun was manned by eleven men and was equipped with either wooden or steel wheels.  It could be broken down into four main parts so that it could be hauled by four mules or carried if need be.  It weighed about 220 pounds.  But it is easier said than done – imagine you are in a hilly jungle during the monsoons or in a swamp… and you’re hungry, thirsty or even wounded.

It was low profile, a typical Japanese design, meant to be fired in combat while prone or squatting.  It had a straight sight and a well supplied and trained team could fire a round every two seconds.  They were deployed, if possible, in groups of four guns.

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Combat

We believe, through Mr. Ota’s book, that Uncle Suetaro’s 41st Regiment was stationed in Pyongyang, Korea in early May, 1944. (Edit: 2/7/2015)

By this time, Japan’s control over the Philippines had begun to deteriorate.  The Allies were knocking on their doorstep.  The Imperial Japanese Navy was to lose tremendous naval assets in the Battle of the Philippine Sea in just a few weeks.  Filipino guerrillas were also attacking Japanese infrastructure from within.  The Japanese military believed that General MacArthur would begin his attacks and assault Mindanao in short order.

In response to that conclusion, The Japanese army reorganized and placed the infamous General Tomoyuki Yamashita in charge of the newly restructured 14th Area Army.  My uncle’s unit, the 41st Regiment, was then attached to the 14th Area Army.

By the end of May, Uncle Suetaro and his 41st Regiment were on Leyte.

He was on his journey to his death.

To be continued in Part 2.  Please click here.

Cooking, Kids

CPK’s Pesto Creme Penne Pasta

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penne
Waited too long to take a picture – the kids were hungry.

For many months now, my two littlest ones have been asking me “to make” California Pizza Kitchen’s (CPK) Pesto Creme Penne Pasta.

Although I’ve seen my Little Cake Boss eat it a couple of times, I never really looked at it; besides, the dimly lit interior rivals that of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.  So the first time I made it, it was not what they expected; it was just plain ol’ pesto…but they ate it.  They always eat what I make…when they like it.

For my Little Cake Boss’ 12th birthday earlier this month, I took her friends to CPK.  This time, I looked at it real good and had a sample.  Well, let me tell you – “Pesto” should not have been the first word in this dish’s culinary description. 🙂

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The redness fades quickly… but why the city requires mulch for cactus and succulents is beyond reason. My back and knees wondered why, too.

Red Spike Succulent

Well, in between the birthday and the pasta, there was:

  1. Changing out my green lawn to a drought-tolerant yard (above),
  2. Trying to write a novel while investigating new facts about my Uncle Suetaro’s death in the Philippines in 1945,
  3. A paranoid aunt freaking out (big time) about a new cell phone she asked for,
  4. Big Bear Lake, and,
  5. A really messed up oil change at Walmart (which they promptly took care of),

but I dared to try this dish again.

I did start out with my pesto but for this attempt, I just cut down the amounts and used my Cuisinart Mini Coffee Grinder to process it.

The base was a variant of my Alfredo sauce:

  • Some olive oil
  • One garlic clove, pressed
  • Maybe a 1/4 to a 1/3 stick butter
  • About 2/3rds cup heavy cream

And

  • Maybe two BIG tablespoons of the pesto
  • Maybe a third to a half cup (?) of sun dried tomatoes
  • Half cup of shredded Parmesan Reggiano
  • Salt, pepper
  • Penne, al dente

Heated small sauce pan, dribbled in some olive oil then quickly warmed through the pressed garlic.  After maybe ten seconds (don’t want to burn the garlic), tossed in the butter until it melted, then added the cream.  Brought it up to good simmer (don’t boil), stirring often.  Lowered heat and continued on low simmer for ten minutes, stirring frequently.

Threw in the sun dried tomatoes and after a couple of minutes, added the pesto, Parmesan cheese, salt/pepper to taste, then poured it over the penne in a stainless steel bowl.  Mixed it up then sprinkled the plated pasta with more Parmesan.

Did the kids eat it?

Yes.

Did they think it was like CPK’s?

Nope.  They thought it was better.

Well, actually, as their provider of food, shelter and flu shots, I encouraged them to think that.

Family, Hiroshima, Nisei

A Draft Card and Immigration

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In my seemingly never-ending drive to uncover lost details of family history – both here in America and in Hiroshima – many surprises have popped up.  Stuff I could have not even imagined.

For instance, finding out my grandfather went camping – complete with a Coleman stove from that time (circa 1915).  It’s odd even for me to see Japanese immigrants camping let alone in shirts and ties:

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Grandfather Hisakichi on the right with the Coleman stove next to him. Mr. Fujii is in the center.  His importance will be noted in another story. Circa 1915.

Or that Grandmother Kono – also from a small farming village in Hiroshima as my grandfather – would pose for a picture on the running board of a brand new 1918 (c) Chevrolet Touring happily holding my Aunt Shiz:

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Grandma Kono and Aunt Shiz, July 1918. The car is owned by Mr. Fujii, the owner of Hotel Fujii and shows up clearly in another photo. Seattle, WA.

I don’t think even she could have ever dreamed she would be sitting on the running board of an American icon from the poverty she had lived in before coming to Seattle as a picture bride.

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On other subjects, I’ve developed unprovable conclusions based on detailed inspection of such photos… but I guess there’s no harm in believing them.

For instance, there are quite a few lefties in my dad’s side of the family.  I’ve always wondered from whom that trait came from.

Well, in the few photographs remaining of Grandfather Hisakichi, I see some glaring patterns:

Here he is on the right, holding a cigarette in his left hand:

hisakichi cigarette
A motley crew indeed.  Grandfather Hisakichi on right, holding cigarette in his left hand. I know when I (ahem) smoke a cigar, it is in my right hand. I am right-handed.

In July 1922, he is photographed here holding his hat in his left hand; however, as in his other photos in a suit, his gold chain (perhaps a watch) leads to a left vest pocket.  I am unsure of which direction a watch would have been pocketed:

Hisakichi park
(L to R) Dad, Grandfather Hisakichi holding his hat in his left hand, Aunt Shiz. Unidentified park, July 1922.

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But there is one undeniable fact.  While I cannot find the actual US Immigration manifest, the 1930 Census discloses Grandfather Hisakichi (legally) immigrated here in 1898 when he was just 17 years old.

But because he was a documented immigrant, the government knew he was here.  He had to register for the draft in 1918!  WWI was raging then.  He was 38 years old.

WWI Draft Registration Card________________________________________

So there is a benefit to illegally immigrating to the US.

“They” wouldn’t know you’re here.

…All in jest, of course.

第二次世界大戦, Military, Navy, Uncle Suetaro, World War II

A Cauldron and War’s End

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My aunt’s second cousins are on the left, Mr. and Mrs. Nakano. I took this while were were on the way to their field to harvest yams. They harvested yams from the same field during the waning days of the war. August 1974, Fukui, Japan.

We must realize that those who endured World War II – as combatants or as civilians – are leaving this world daily.

Of those who survived and remain with us today, it is not enough to have seen it as a small child.  Of course, I am not implying there was no damaging effect on their souls.  If you were such a child and witnessed a bomb blast, that will be in your mind forevermore.

But those who were young adults back then have the most intimate, most detailed recollections.  Unfortunately, they would by now at the least be in their late 80s or early 90s – like my parents and Aunt Eiko.

Even so, the mental faculties of these aging survivors have diminished with age.  For some, dementia has taken over or of course, many just do not wish to recall it.  My dad is that way on both counts even though he did not endure combat.  For instance, he still refuses to recall what he first felt getting off that train at the obliterated remains of the Hiroshima train station in 1947 as a US Army sergeant.  I’m positive he also went to see the ruins of his beloved high school where he ran track.

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Some of my Aunt Eiko’s poignant notes about the last weeks of war.

As described in my series on the firebombing of Tokyo (link is here), my aunt, mother and grandmother fled Tokyo around July 1, 1945 via train.  They were headed for Fukui, a town alongside the Japan Sea, and the farm of Mr. Shinkichi Mitani (He is my second great uncle so you can figure that one out.) My guess is grandfather believed the farmlands to be a very safe refuge. My grandfather accompanied them on their journey to safety but he would be returning to Tokyo after they reached their destination.  To this day, my aunt does not know why he went back to Tokyo, a most dangerous and desperate city to live in.

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Fukui is marked by the red marker. Tokyo is directly east along the bay.

As the railroad system in Japan was devastated, it always perplexes me as to how my grandfather managed to get tickets on a rare operating train let alone get seats…but he did.  The train ride is even more incredible given the Allies ruled the skies by then; during daylight, American P-51 Mustangs strafed targets of opportunity at will: trains, boats and factories.  It appears they traveled at night.

My aunt firmly recalls the train being overfilled with civilians trying to escape extermination in Tokyo.  But with my grandfather’s connections (and likely a bribe or two while spouting he was of samurai heritage), they were fortunate to get seats in an uncrowded private rail car. You see, the car was only for Japanese military officers; the military still ruled Japan.  She remembers many of them were in white uniforms¹, all with “katana”, or their ceremonial “samurai swords” as the Allied military forces called them.  She said she didn’t say a word. She felt the solemnness heavily amongst them in the stuffy humidity.

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My dad’s youngest brother, Uncle Suetaro, is sporting a “katana”, or samurai sword for a ceremony of some kind. Although born in Seattle, he was unable to leave Hiroshima and became drafted into the Japanese Imperial Army. He was KIA on Leyte by US forces. Circa 1944.

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namimatsu1
The Mitani farm was about 2-1/2 miles NW of Awara Station in a village called Namimatsu; the beach was about a ten minute walk away.

She said they arrived at the Awara Station (芦原) at night.  Humidity was a constant during that time as it was the rainy season (梅雨, or “Tsuyu”); nothing could dry out and mildew would proliferate.  They walked roughly 2-1/2 miles (一里) in total darkness on a hilly dirt trail looking for the farm of Mr. Mitani.  Being of an aristocratic family, I’m sure their trek was quite the challenge emotionally and physically. No, they did not have a Craftsman flashlight. No street lights either. The only thing that possibly glowed was my grandfather’s cigarette.

The challenge would escalate.  While living conditions in Tokyo were wretched, they had been aristocrats. She was unprepared for farm life. Indeed, she had become a Japanese Zsa Zsa Gabor in a real life “Green Acres”.

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When I visited the Mitani farm in 1974. Although the Mitanis had passed away, Mitani’s daughter is at the center with the blue headband.  Her husband is at the far right with my mom standing next to him in “American” clothing. I am at the far left, toting my Canon F-1 camera of back then.

Aunt Eiko described the farmhouse and its associated living conditions as essential beyond belief.  She was greeted by a 土間 (doma), or a living area with a dirt floor², as she entered.  Immediately inside the doorway was a relatively exposed お風呂, or traditional Japanese bath tub.  Her biggest surprise was the toilet – or rather, the absence of one.  It was indeed a hole in the ground outside.  (I know.  I used it when I visited in 1974…but it had toilet paper when I went.)

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During the day, they helped farm the yams Mr. Mitani was growing.  They also ate a lot of those yams because it was available.  There wasn’t much else.

fukui-10-3
My second cousin Toshio on the left, mom pulling some yams, Mr. Nakano at right when we were visiting Fukui in 1974.  It was the first time back for mom and Aunt Eiko since the war.

Although my grandfather moved them to Fukui as a safe refuge, he was mistaken.

Shortly after arrival, Aunt Eiko said the terror of being on the losing end of war struck again.  US warships began to shell the farming areas in the Namimatsu village.³  Mrs. Mitani immediately screamed, “Run for the hills!  Run for the hills!”  She vividly remembers Mrs. Mitani and all the other villagers strap their “nabekama” (鍋釜), or cast iron cooking cauldrons, onto their backs and whatever foodstuff they could grab and carry.  You see, life had become primal for the farmers and villagers.  Food and water was their wealth.  Everything else had become expendable by then.

鍋釜
A traditional cooking cauldron, or “鍋釜 (nabekama)” hangs above a firepit towards the bottom left in the picture above.

They all did run to the hills as the shelling continued, she said.  I do not know how long the barrage lasted nor how far away those hills were or if anyone she had met there was injured or killed.  Surely, the damage must have been quite measurable on the essential crops or already dilapidated farmhouses if they were hit.  For some, it may have become the straw that broke the camel’s back.  The years of war would have taken its toll.

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The Japan Sea was on the “backside” of the farm, she said (see map above); it was close by.  One poignant memory she has is one of watching young Japanese soldiers by the coastal sea cliffs several times.

fukui-10-6
My Uncle Suetaro is at the bottom left at a beach; he and many of his fellow soldiers are in their typical loincloths. I am confident my Aunt Eiko saw very similarly dressed young soldiers like these by the sea cliffs at Fukui.

She writes:

表がすぐ日本海であったのでその海崖にいつも若い日本兵がフンドシ一つで泳いでいた。学徒出陣の青年達だった。この青年達も皆戦死したであろうと思うととても気持ちはいたい。

She says that as the Japan Sea was on the other side of the farm, she watched young Japanese soldiers joyously swimming by the sea cliffs in their loincloths (フンドシ or fundoshi). They were Army recruits and so very young.  Aunt Eiko says her heart is pained to this day knowing that all those young boys she saw swimming in the Japan Sea certainly perished.

____________________________________

Preceded by my mom, Aunt Eiko and grandmother returned to Tokyo about a month after war’s end. The Mitani’s had taken them into their already burdened life, provided shelter and shared whatever meager provisions they had. While they have all passed on, she is grateful  to them to this day.

As she wrote, the sight of Mrs. Mitani strapping on their cauldron remains etched in her mind to this day.

To Aunt Eiko, the simple cast iron cauldron had helped stew the essence of survival.

Notes:

1. Being the summer months, the white uniforms were likely worn by Imperial Japanese Navy officers.

2. For a visual on what a dirt floor house may have looked like, please click on this link.

3. While TF 37 and 38 were operating around Japan attacking targets, I was successful in only locating one battle record of Fukui being attacked when Aunt Eiko was there.   It belongs to the US 20th Air Force; in Mission 277 flown on July 19th, 1945, 127 B-29s carpet bombed Fukui’s urban area.  Military records state that Fukui was deemed an important military target, producing aircraft parts, electrical equipment, machine motors, various metal products and textiles.  It was also reportedly an important railroad center.  Per Wikipedia, the attack was meant to destroy industries, disrupt rail communications, and decrease Japan’s recuperative potential. Of the city’s 1.9 sq. miles at the time, 84.8% of Fukui was destroyed that day.  I am under the assumption that having witnessed B-29 attacks in Tokyo that she definitely would have heard the ominous drone of the B-29s.  As such, she maintains it was a naval barrage.

America, Cars, Flowers, Photography

Just Some Snapshots #12

13 Comments

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America

38 CALIBER CIRCUMCISION

3 Comments

Wanna see a bad guy get it? LOL

http://safeshare.tv/w/LbPrqyRwwI

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Family, Kids, Marines

She’s Killing Me #3

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She’s killing me, I tell ya.  My little Cake Boss.

She is never, NEVER ready on time.  Have I said never yet?

This morning was no different.  I plead with her to be ready at 8:45 am, five minutes earlier because it is pouring outside.  Raindrops the size of watermelons.  And that means the world’s supply of crazed mothers and grandparents in their M1A1 battle tanks in desert camouflage will be assaulting the three or four dropoff places at school – all at 8:55 am.  Our Marines should be embarrassed these mothers can assault the beach head on time – every time.  But unlike the Marines, its every mom for herself.  Damn the others. 🙂

As usual, my son is ready.  He is always ready.  Sometimes he forgets things like his homework – but he is always ready.

jack ready
Jack is always ready – this morning at 8:45 am as I asked… The lunch box and water bottle belong to the child who always keeps us waiting…til PAST the last minute. Notice the girl shoes with the feet missing from them?

Then I begin to yell at her.  “Brooke!  What are you doing??  Get in the car!”

Then she procrastinates even more…  She’ll do the exact opposite – like my ex does even today.  She’ll run to the bathroom or decide to wear a different pair of socks or whatever. I yell at her even more as I will have to drive like a NASCAR driver just to get near the school that is a bazillion miles away.  Tokyo’s closer.

It’s 8:48 am and Jack is waiting in the car as usual…for his sister.  Reluctantly, I haul her 100 ton backpack to the car.  It must be filled with Walmart’s entire inventory of nail polish.  Well, there are books in there at least.

She finally runs to the car – in her bare feet – in the rainwater left by the watermelon-sized raindrops –  while holding her socks, shoes and… hairbrush.

We get to the school as the bell rings.  Jack jumps out…but not Brooke.  Of course not.

Brooke suddenly remembers her mama didn’t sign an assignment sheet that was due yesterday.  Crazed Marines (aka as mothers) are honking at me…while my Little Cake Boss struggles to put her Converse on while searching for that paper.  I sign it.  She finally jumps out but her shoes are still not completely on. Criminy.

I get home.

I see something pink and white on the back seat under her hair brush she carried into the car instead of her backpack I lugged for her.

It’s the Text Princess’ iPhone.

iphoneSo I go back…to take the Text Princess her phone.

They page her.  I wait in the hallway.  She comes.  I hand her the phone.  “Papa! You didn’t have to bring it-aaah…” in her trade-mark Valley-girl way of talking… but she knows she’d have a heart attack without it.  It’s like the little notes girls used to pass around in class when I was her age.

Watch this…  The first thing she’s gonna do is lecture me when she gets picked up…after she’s the last one to leave the school, of course, texting as she walks.

America, Cars, Photography

Just Some Snapshots #11

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1956 Chevy

 

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In front of Belmont Shores fire station, Long Beach, CA.

 

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Chevy pick up truck

 

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Chevy Corvette convertible

 

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About Ferguson – Things I Told My Sons

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So very eloquently written…

Doctor Lynn's avatarLife In The Gym

*Warning – This is another off topic post but something that has been on my mind.  Actually, I do a lot of thinking while doing cardio so I suppose it’s related, albeit distantly, to my workouts.

Racism exists in this world. That’s an indisputable fact. America has waged a long and reasonably successful struggle against institutional racism but if you look you will be able to find instances where you can rightly point to someone who has been treated badly solely because of their race. If those cases come to your attention, you can throw your energy behind peaceful efforts to see that the wrongs are righted and to help prevent similar incidents from happening in the future.

That’s correct action. That’s working in the right direction and it’s doing what our Christian faith asks of us. We are to be defenders of innocents who can’t defend themselves.

Michael Brown…

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True stories about World War II – One war. Two Countries. One Family