Yoshida Yutaka, “Nippon Gunpeishi – Ajia Taiheiyõ Sensõ no Genjitsu” (Soldiers of Japan – the Reality of the Asia – Pacific War), Chuõkõron, 2018 (page numbers are in parenthesis)
 
The deaths of Kamikaze pilots – Excessive expectations versus reality
 
One of the more unique forms of death in battle that occurred during the desperate final stages of the Pacific War was, of course, those of the well-known Tokkõtai (‘special attack squad or group’).  The Tokkõtai (the abbreviated version of Tokubetsu Kõgeki Tai) were primarily involved in attacks (‘special air attacks’) against ships, whereby aircraft loaded with explosives would crash into the said ships.  There were other forms of such attacks, such as the so-called ‘Unyõ’, which involved crashing a motor boat known as a ‘Marule’ into the side of ships (‘special above-water attacks’), and attacks by single-seat, modified torpedos known as ‘Kaiten’ (‘special under-water attacks’).  However it was the attacks carried out by aircraft that led to the greatest number of casualties for Japan, and so it is upon these that I will focus my attention. (52)
 
The Tokkõtai made its first appearance in October 1944 as part of the defence plan for The Philippines. Its formal name was the Shinpû Tokubetsu Kõgeki Tai (although the reading of the characters for Shinpû was later modified to the more common Kamikaze). The original purpose of the Tokkõtai was to provide support to the fleet of Admiral Kurita in its attempt to break through to Leyte Gulf. Pilots would crash their aircraft into the flight decks of the US Navy’s main aircraft carriers, thereby rendering the carriers temporarily inoperable. They were not attempting to actually sink the carriers, and so their initial mission was limited in its scope.  However as the war progressed, the role of the Tokkõtai escalated. By the start of the Okinawan campaign towards the end of March 1945, the Tokkõtai had become both the army and navy’s principle strategy for resisting the US. Yet this meant that the expectations placed upon the Tokkõtai began to grow ever more excessive. (52)
 
For example, on the 26th of January 1945, Admiral Oikawa Koshirõ, Chief of the Naval Staff, wrote in relation to the distribution of 250 ‘Õka’ (‘cherry blossom’) flying bombs:
 
“At present, there are a variety of opinions regarding the state of the war, and while I recognize that the situation is grave, I do not regard it as critical.  A large number (250) of special weapons (human piloted Õka bombs) have been gathered together, and right now we have large numbers of recruits undergoing training at Kanoya (base). (Abridged) We had planned to deploy these pilots to Hitõjima (The Philippines’ front) by November of last year, but were not able to make it in time. However if these pilots can be used in the next (engagement), our military will reverse the situation, and we will be able to recapture territory extending as far as the Marianas”. (source: Takagi Sõkichi, Diary and Papers, Vol.2). (52, 53)
 
One of the former colleagues of Chief of Navy Admiral Oikawa, Admiral Okada Keisuke, had plenty of experience listening to Admiral Oikawa’s conversations, and had the following blunt remarks to say about Admiral Oikawa’s plan:
 
“I have to say, the idea of manufacturing 200 odd such weapons a month and then using them to retake territory from Hitõjima to Saipan was something a little akin to a dream.” (source: cited above). 
 
In truth, the expectations placed on the ‘Õka’ were no more than a dream.  The ‘Õka’ was a small, glider type aircraft packed with advanced rocketry and explosives and steered by a single human pilot.  Although many resources refer to it as a ‘rocket’, it was not officially regarded as one.  It would be suspended underneath a conventional ‘mother’ Mitsubishi G4M (‘Betty’) bomber aircraft and taken up into the air.  Upon approaching an enemy ship, it would be released from the mother aircraft.  The Õka pilot, locked into his cockpit, would then steer the aircraft using the air current.  Just before making contact with the enemy ship, the pilot would ignite the rocket, boosting the speed of the aircraft which then slam into the ship.  However because the over 2-ton ‘Õka’ had to be suspended beneath the 'mother' bomber aircraft, that significantly slowed the bomber down and impeded its manoeuvrability. Many bombers were attacked by enemy aircraft before they could launch their Õka, and thereby failed to contribute in any way to boosting Japan’s wartime successes. 
 
Furthermore, the maximum weight load that Japan’s Mitsubishi G4M bombers could carry in relation to torpedos or bombs and still be manoeuvrable was 800 kg.  The 21st of March 1945 marked the start of the use of Õka bombs. On that day, all 18 G4M bombers belonging to the “Shinrai Butai” (‘Thunder God Squadron’) took off on their mission, but none returned. (54)
 
The losses attributable to air attacks by the Tokkõtai by the end of the war were as follows:
 
Main aircraft carriers = 0 sunk, 26 damaged
Light aircraft carriers (smaller carriers modified from commercial vessels) = 3 sunk, 18 damaged 
Battleships = 0 sunk, 15 damaged
Cruisers = 0 sunk, 22 damaged
Destroyers = 13 sunk, 109 damaged
Other vessels (transport ships, amphibious ships etc.) = 31 sunk, 219 damaged
 
Hence for all the air attacks on naval shipping, no more than 47 ships in total were sunk.  On the other hand, the IJN lost 2,431 personnel in Tokkõtai based attacks, while the army lost 1,417, making a total of 3,848 lives. (source: Tokkõ – War and the Japanese People). 
 
The lack of success in sinking major ships meant that most of those sunk were smaller vessels.
 
Another reason why the Tokkõtai were not able to achieve much success was because in the aftermath of the Battle for The Philippines, the US strengthened its defences against suicide attacks. The US Navy deployed a number of destroyers equipped with powerful radar in front of its task force to act as a radar picket and to provide early warning of any incoming attacks and direct any fighter aircraft in response.  The Tokkõtai were not able to so easily break through this sort of forward defence line. (54, 55)

Furthermore, many of the planes used by the Tokkõtai were older models, flying laden down with the weight of explosives and so became easy prey for American fighter aircraft. The US Navy’s success in the development of variable time fuses (which used an electromagnetic wave pulse, thereby causing ammunition to automatically explode when it came within proximity to a target) led to the development from 1943 onwards of anti-aircraft shells installed with VT fuses, which in turn led to great success in anti-aircraft defence. (55)
 
The destructive power of the Tokkõtai
 
There are already a large range of sources about the Tokkõtai, so what I would like to focus on is the issue of the destructive power that the Tokkõtai were able to wield. 
 
When an aircraft undertakes a conventional attack against a surface target, the bomb that it drops is able to increase both its destructive power and its penetrating power through additional speed created by gravity. However in an attack committed by crashing into a target, an aircraft that undertakes a sudden dive in order to crash into a target creates lift, and so the aircraft itself begins to act as an airbrake (and slows down).  Hence when compared to bombs dropped from aircraft in accordance with conventional methods of attack, the damage caused by crashing an aircraft itself into a ship is much less extensive.  This is why Tokkõtai attacks on major US Navy vessels were unable to sink them. (56)
 
One piece of evidence that illustrates the lack of destructive and attacking power created by crashing an aircraft into a target is the tale of the US Navy destroyer, the USS Laffey (DD-724).  On the 16th of April 1945, the Laffey was acting as part of an advance radar warning picket line in the seas off Okinawa.  Over the course of 80 minutes, she was attacked 22 times by Tokkõtai aircraft and suffered extensive damage after being hit six times by aircraft and four times by bombs.  She was also strafed by Japanese aircraft, leading to a casualty list of 31 sailors dead or missing and 72 wounded.  Yet the Laffey did not sink, and was towed by other destroyers and tugboats back to a safe harbour where she underwent emergency repairs.  She was later able to sail to Guam under her own power. (source: Victory in the Pacific 1945). (56)
 
This example illustrates the high level of damage control capabilities possessed by the Americans (damage control being those measures taken onboard a vessel, such as firefighting, in order to minimise the amount of damage suffered). It also shows is that despite crashing six times into the Laffey, no Tokkõ aircraft were able to sink a comparatively small warship like a destroyer. (56).  
 
Tokkõ pilots themselves were aware of the limits of the effectiveness of flying a plane into a ship with a bomb still attached.  Hashimoto Yoshio, a pilot of a Zero-class fighter aircraft, examined the most effective way of crashing a plane into an enemy’s ship with his fellow pilots.  He wrote the following about those discussions:
 
“It was about this time that we started to consider dropping your bomb immediately before you yourself collided with the target (at a low altitude), as opposed to having the bomb skip and hit the ship while you performed a sudden evasive manoeuvre, or else hitting the ship yourself or trying to launch the bomb from a higher altitude.  The origins of this line of thinking came from the fact that if you could exploit the penetrating power of a 250 kg or 500 kg bomb then you could create a much larger explosion.  This emphasised using the weight of the bomb rather than simply hitting the target with the aircraft itself to increase the penetrating power and armour-piercing capability of the attack.  It was a very logical way of thinking.” (source: Student Kamikaze – Life and Death, Memoirs of a student pilot of the IJN 14th Naval Air Corps). (57) 
 
 ‘Skip bombing’ is understood to refer to releasing a bomb first before hitting a target with an airplane.  In truth, Tokkõ pilots themselves shifted to hitting targets using just their aircraft.  
 
In May 1945, two Zero-class Tokkõ aircraft crashed into the USS Bunker Hill, an Essex-class major aircraft carrier in the seas off Okinawa. While the carrier itself didn’t sink, it suffered extensive damage including the loss of close to 400 personnel.  Both of these aircraft managed to release their bomb payload immediately before crashing into the carrier.  (source: M.T Kennedy, Tokkõ). 
 
The reason the pilots Ogawa Kiyoshi and Yasunori Morimitsu, both Kamikaze pilots, chose this form of attack was because they shared a desire with fighter pilots to inflict the greatest amount of damage on the enemy.  It was the ultimate form of silent protest at the otherwise illogical, reckless attack strategy of the Tokkõtai. (58)
 
Among the various Tokkõ aircraft, there are examples of planes that had explosives placed in the cockpit, and others which had their bombs fixed to the aircraft body so that they would be unable to drop them. (58)

Yoshida Yutaka, “Nippon Gunpeishi – Ajia Taiheiyõ Sensõ no Genjitsu” (Soldiers of Japan – the Reality of the Asia – Pacific War), Chuõkõron, 2018 (page numbers in parenthesis)
 
Chapter 2. Deaths at sea 
 
Over 250,000 deaths at sea 
 
Among the narrow definitions of casualties that occur during conflict, a number of particular manners of death stood out during the war.  One of these was the large number of deaths that occurred at sea.  
 
Attacks by aircraft belonging to allied fleets and submarines during the Asia-Pacific War resulted in a considerable number of ships being sunk, although it should be noted that deaths at sea here refers to those who died when their ships were sunk.  Detailed estimates on the number of deaths that occurred in this manner are included in my previous work “The ecology of the former Japanese Imperial Army and Navy”, so here I will only use round numbers. (42) 
 
According to the “Compendium of research on fatalities resulting from the sinking of vessels during the Pacific War”, the number of deaths at sea came to 182,000 in the case of the navy and navy-affiliated personnel, while the army and army-affiliated personnel deaths came to 176,000, making an overall total death toll of 358,000.  By way of contrast, the total number of casualties for both the Japanese navy and army during the entire Russo-Japanese War was 88,133 (source: A military historical study of the Russo-Japanese War). This reveals the scale of the loss of so many personnel.  Furthermore, the Army Medical Service for Transport Vessels, in its own report, pointed out that “Almost half of all deaths that occurred during combat aboard transport vessels should be ascribed to drowning” (source: Transport Ship Hygiene). (43)
 
The leading cause for so many deaths at sea was the great success that US Navy submarines had in sinking ships.  During the course of the Second World War, the US Navy lost 52 submarines, yet it managed to sink 1,314 vessels, making a combined commercial tonnage of 5.2 million tons. What this meant is that for every US submarine sunk, it managed to sink 25 commercial Japanese ships.  The German Kriegsmarine lost 781 U-boats during the war but sank 2,828 commercial vessels, for a combined tonnage of 15.5 million tons.  This resulted in a U-boat loss to vessel sunk ratio of 1:3.6, thereby giving the US a comfortable lead. However in the case of the Japanese Imperial Navy, it lost 127 I-class submarines but only sank 184 commercial ships, for a combined tonnage of 500,000 tons. This resulted in a loss to sunk ratio of little more than 1:1.4. (43)
 
The US Navy’s submarine campaign against Japan underwent a dramatic shift from around the middle of 1943.  The US Navy not only managed to reduce the number of defects in its torpedos, which up until this time had suffered from either premature detonation or failure to explode, it also successfully broke Japan’s commercial shipping codes.  This made it possible for US submarines to lie in wait for transport ships and ambush them (source: Research notes concerning the campaign to destroy Japan’s commercial shipping). (43)

Another reason for why so many Japanese troops died at sea was because most of the commercial vessels used to transport troops by the Imperial Japanese Army were requisitioned cargo ships. The interior compartments of these ships were narrow and cramped, despite being renovated, and hosted large numbers of troops.  As a result, when these ships began to sink, it became impossible for all of the personnel on board to escape.  In time, the loss of so many commercial vessels led to a shortage in ships, which meant that many of those ships still available were then overloaded with men and materials. This then exacerbated the amount of losses in personnel suffered when these ships were sunk. (source: Battlefields and Soldiers of the Asia-Pacific War). (44)
 
The Transport Ship Hygiene of the Army Medical Service for Transport Vessels, quoted earlier, pointed out that one of the particular characteristics of transport ships was the narrowness of the living spaces. Military transport ships had, on average, between 3 to 4 soldiers occupying a space of 1 tsubo (around 3.3 metres squared).  If 5 fully laden soldiers occupied a space of 1 tsubo, it would have been impossible for any of them to freely move about. In September 1944, Fukuoka Yoshio, a trainee medic on board a transport ship heading for The Philippines, wrote the following about his experience on the ship (44):
 
“Like slaves on board a slave ship, soldiers were crammed into the hold of transport ships over and above the prescribed number of crew.  Those who couldn’t get up on deck suffered from a debilitating fever (heatstroke) because of the dramatic increase in temperature and humidity in the hold. This led an increase in body temperature and the onset of shock. Over time, soldiers lost complete control over regulation of their central nervous system and many died.  Whenever this happened, I would accompany the body for burial at sea. I witnessed many a sad, tragic end, as the body of the soldier, with no relatives to farewell it, disappeared beneath the waves.” (source: A Doctor’s Greater East Asian War) (44)
 
According to Dr. Fukuoka, one reason that many of the younger soldiers who had just joined the army couldn’t go up on deck was because many of the veterans had parked themselves and their equipment near the exits to the deck in order to make use of the fresh air for themselves. (44)
 
“The 8-knot convoy” – Applying the spurs to a worn-out fleet of cargo ships
 
Another problem that the military faced was the lack of capability in Japan’s transport fleet.  During the Pacific War, in order to meet the military’s demand for transport vessels, a large number of ships were constructed that met wartime specifications.  Simplicity in design and construction, a shortened construction schedule, and savings on material and labour meant that speed of construction was prioritized to the detriment of the vessel’s capability. (45)
 
A variety of wartime-regulation ship types were constructed during the war. If we examine the speed at which such cargo ships travelled, a 1st generation cargo ship had a top speed, in the fastest class, of 12.3 knots, while the slowest type had a top speed of 10 knots.  A 2nd generation vessel could move, at the fastest, at 10 knots, while the slowest moved at 7 knots.  A 3rd generation vessel could move at 14 knots at the fastest, and 7.5 knots at the slowest.  A 4th generation vessel, which prioritised speed, could move at a top speed of 18 knots (source: A History of Wartime Ship Construction). (45)

Transport ships and tankers would make up part of a naval convoy where they would grouped together to protect them from attacks from submarines and aircraft.  Some ships within these convoys travelled at the comparatively low speed of 8 knots (around 15 kilometres an hour), which forced the remaining ships to modify their speed to match that of the slowest vessels.  Such convoys were referred to as “8 knot convoys”. These became the norm in time, which caused considerable problems for those vessels ordered to escort them.  (46)
 
To protect these “8 knot convoys” from submarine attack, the convoy would engage in zig-zag manoeuvres known as “noji manoeuvres” (because of the resemblance the movements had to the character no, or 之).  This often resulted in convoys having to drop their speed to 6 knots in order to successfully complete such manoeuvres (source: A Record of conversations with the Commander of the Combined Fleet).  (46)
 
Let’s have a look in more detail at what happened to transport ships after they had been attacked.  Both fatalities and injuries would result from explosions caused by either torpedos or bombs.  Within the ship this could provoke different reactions - from those who froze out of fear, to those who lost all sense of reason. Even though you might successfully escape from inside the ship, there would be a scramble to get hold of floating equipment like boats and rafts.  According to the “Military Regulations - No.49 - Lessons for use during difficulties at sea” (dated 18th January 1945) 
 
“Either seize a flotation device or get hold of one and use it exclusively. Do not worry about others but save your own life. There are many examples of sailors losing their lives trying to save both themselves and others.” (46)
 
One example of this ‘survival at all costs’ mentality was the tragedy that struck the ‘Taiseimaru’.  In April 1945, the Taiseimaru (1,948 tons) was making its way to Hakodate as part of the 3rd Amphibious Brigade. After being attacked by a submarine, she sank in the seas off Niikappu Seppuchõ in Hokkaido. (source: A History of Wartime Shipping).  One crew member of the Amphibious Brigade, Õyashiki Kiyoshi, provided an eyewitness account of what happened next:
 
“Soldiers floating around in the sea called out for help from the “Taihatsu” (an amphibious boat) and attempted to cling onto its side. I then saw an officer draw his sword and cut the arms off a number of soldiers (armless corpses later washed up on nearby beaches).” (source: Survey materials concerning records of wartime experiences and conversations, Vol.1). (47)
 
The writer Yoshimura Akira would cover this incident and use it for the basis for his story “The Sea Casket”. However he would supress the name of the ship, the unit involved, and the name of the place where the incident occurred. (47)
 
Pressure injuries and injuries from underwater explosions
 
Other forms of injury that occurred when a vessel sunk, but which were not widely recognised as war injuries, were pressure injuries and injuries that resulted from underwater explosions.  Pressure injuries usually refers to injuries that occur from the shock that the body (such as the legs) has to absorb after landing on the ground or a hard surface following a fall from a great height.   However Lieutenant Yamada Junichi, of the former Imperial Army Medical Corps, had a particular fascination with the problem of pressure injuries caused as a result of military action, and made the following observation about this phenomenon:
 
“During the recent war, ship explosions resulting from hits from individual mines (underwater mines or torpedos) created the opposite effect to what would ordinarily happen. An explosion would create such a shockwave that personnel on either the deck of a ship or in the water would be sent flying through the air. In addition to severe pressure injuries, there were other forms of injury including wounds from the explosion itself, contusions, bruising, fractures, burns, perforated eardrums, and internal injuries which ranged from simple to severe. It was common for multiple injuries to temporarily combine to form one major injury.” (source: War diary of a medical officer sent to The Philippines) (47, 48)
 
According to Yamada, among the recorded fatalities that occurred after being sunk, “44% had pressure injuries that accompanied (their other injuries).” (48)
 
But what about injuries that resulted from underwater explosions? Another medical officer who served during the Asia-Pacific War, Kunimi Hisahiko, knew of the type of wounds that could result from underwater explosions as a result of his studies at the naval medical school.   In his memoirs, he wrote:
 
“If an explosion happened to occur near someone floating in the sea, the organs of the victim would begin to rupture one after another despite the absence of any visible wounds to the outside of the body. They would suffer severe abdominal pain, which would gradually lead to emaciation and then death.  It was a horrible way to die.  At first, we didn’t know what the cause of death was, but soon learnt that it accompanied anyone who had been in the vicinity of an underwater explosion caused by a depth charge.” (source: Diary “Onkõ Chishin”) (48) 
 
Depth charges were the most common form of anti-submarine weapon. They were carried by destroyers and submarine chasers for use against enemy submarines in order to protect convoys. They would either be dropped or launched from an anti-submarine vessel and would explode underwater.  (48)
 
One record of the type of casualties that resulted from underwater explosions was documented by naval medical officer Hatano Katsumi. In January 1944, Hatano was stationed at Rabaul where he was responsible for providing medical assistance.  In his memoir of the war, he wrote:
 
“I had never treated so many suffering patients before.  Patients would complain about the terrible pains in their stomachs, which were so painful that it would make them cry.  They would be vomiting up blood.” (source: The Cave Hospital of Rabaul)
 
Hatano would later recognize what the cause of these injuries was.  In June 1942, Lieutenant Satõ Mamoru graduated from the naval medical school. In July 1944, Satõ found himself on Cerebus Island and responsible for operating on patients suffering from injuries caused by underwater explosions.   In his memoirs, he wrote:
 
“The crew of a cargo ship that had been torpedoed and sunk by an enemy submarine found themselves floating in the sea.  The shockwaves caused by depth charges dropped by friendly submarine chasers carrying out attacks on enemy submarines would cause ruptures in the intestines of these sailors. Soon there were around ten patients who had contracted peritonitis all at once.  (Abridged) When we opened their intestines up, we were astonished to find that the intestines of all of the patients had suffered ruptures in various places. There was a peculiar trait to that part of the body, (Abridged) and so from that we were able to discern that the injuries were not a result of the shockwave passing through the wall of the intestine, but rather explosive pressure had forced its way into the intestine via the anus, and damage to the intestine wall had thus occurred from within the intestine itself.” (source: Clouds over the sea) (49)
 
Hence although we might think of only one type of death at sea, in truth death came in many different forms. (49)
 
“There were a sudden series of incidents of men going mad”
 
One further issue regarding deaths at sea that can’t be ignored was the psychological trauma that accompanied any experience of being sunk.  As losses in shipping began to dramatically escalate, a sense of dread would spread among the troops onboard a transport ship making its way out of port.  From February to March 1943, a campaign was waged to increase the amount of supplies reaching New Guinea.  During the ‘81st campaign’, aerial attacks by US and Australian aircraft resulted in the loss of 8 cargo transport ships and 4 destroyers, thereby annihilating an entire convoy.  This was referred to as the ‘Battle of the Bismarck Sea’ (in English, or the ‘Dampier Strait Tragedy’ in Japanese). (50)
 
Tsuchii Zenjirõ wrote the following words in his memoir, based on his notes taken in relation to the state of the soldiers and crew scheduled for embarkation:
 
“Many of those marked for embarkation would gradually fall ‘silent’ and begin to feel ill.  In the afternoon of the day before embarkation, when tension had reached its maximum point, there were a sudden series of incidents of men going mad among the soldiers making their way into the holds of the transport ships.  This became a serious problem.  What is more, these men were so affected (by their madness) that they clearly weren’t faking it.” (source: Records of crews from sunken vessels) (50)
 
The state of mind of troops who had been rescued after their ships were sunk was also a serious issue.  In a number of military reports, personnel who had been rescued after “being in a perilous situation”:
 
 “would ordinarily display a more sensitive mental state for some time afterwards, particularly a heightened sense of fear” which, it was noted, would interfere in the performance of the soldier’s military duties (source: “Lessons for use during difficulties at sea” quoted earlier) (51)
 
There were also regiments who, along with losses in men and materials, also lost their battle flags.  Battle flags were flags presented to small infantry and cavalry units by the Emperor at the time of their formation. Along with the psychological, almost mythical, importance attached to objects received directly from the Emperor, it symbolised the unity, or the cohesiveness of the particular regiment. These were the flags that sank together with their regiments. (51) 
 
A specific example of this occurred in November 1942, when a ship carrying the 170th Infantry Regiment was torpedoed by a submarine in the seas off Palau, resulting in the loss of the regiment’s battle flag.   In April 1944, the 210th Infantry Regiment suffered the loss of its battle flag when their transport ship was sunk in the Bashi Channel. And again, in August 1944, the 13th Infantry Division suffered the loss of its battle flags when their transport ships were also sunk in the Bashi Channel by submarine-launched torpedoes. (source: Infantry and Cavalry Units and their Battle Flags). (51) 
 
One could say that this was a fitting symbol for the destruction of “the Emperor’s Army”. (51)

This translation is of a chapter from a book by Majima Mitsuru, which details his time as a soldier within the 30th Army Engineer Regiment sent to fight on the New Guinea front from February 1943 through to around October 1944. As you will see, Majima pulls no punches in his criticisms of what he believed was the gross negligence of the Imperial Japanese military in sending troops into an environment without adequate supplies, reinforcements, or even a definitive plan.  While Majima’s style of writing tends to be stream of conscious, which is why it is given to suddenly veering off on a completely different tangent, it does provide some insight in the mindset of at least one Japanese soldier sent to fight in New Guinea and the reality of what that meant for him and others like him.  As per usual, numbers in parenthesis refer to page numbers.
 
Majima Mitsuru, “A War Diary of New Guinea:  The ill-fated army that vanished among mountain peaks and jungles”, Kõjinsha, Reprinted 2003
 
Chapter One.  Defence to the death, and self-sacrifice
 
An island of coral
 
Rabaul – an island whose exposure to the heat of the sun makes it seem as though it sits directly beneath the Equator; an island of coral surrounded by a crystal blue sea common to islands in the south and covered by jungle.  It was an island that would be familiar to any Japanese who had heard the song titled “the air unit of Rabaul”.  It is an island tempting enough to convince anybody to visit it at least once. 
 
And yet it was a battlefield.  There was no gaiety that you would find at any tourist resort.  Beneath an unfamiliar sky, the entire base was surrounded by jungle.  It was here that General Imamura Hitoshi, commander of the 8th Area Army, decided to place himself as the pivot for Japan’s southern strategy along with Lieutenant General Hyakutake Harukichi, commander of the Imperial Japanese Army’s 17th Army, who was subordinate to General Imamura.  As for the Imperial Japanese Navy, Rabaul would serve as headquarters for Rear Admiral Kusaka Jinichi, commander of the Southeast Area Fleet, and under whose command fell the 8thFleet.  
 
Rabaul was an important strategic point vital to the control of both the Solomon Islands and New Guinea itself.  With its gentle waves, deep water and with an almost spherical, broad coastline, it formed a good, natural harbour.  Small numbers of destroyers and submarines were able to weigh anchor there while awaiting their next mission.  At first glance this arrangement looked peaceful and orderly, yet these vessels represented the remnants from various sea battles.  The Battle of the Coral Sea in May of 1942, the Battle of Midway in June the same year, and then the First to Third Battles of the Solomon Islands that took place between August and November had resulted in the loss of IJN superiority to the allied fleet.  These destroyers and submarines had evacuated to Rabaul with what was left of various units from Guadalcanal, and were mainly being used to ferry men and supplies to the front in New Guinea. (16-17)
 
At the entrance to the harbour lies a dormant volcano covered in grey volcanic ash. On the shoreline around the base of the volcano are shoals made of coral, from which steam escapes through fissures in the coral and form natural hot springs. As the island had no fresh water source of its own apart from rainwater, various units poured the hot spring water into cans and then used this for their baths. The flat plain from which steam rose up to cover the harbour was used as a base for air units. (17)
 
Along one section of the shoreline, the atmosphere was similar to that of small fishing villages that one could find in Japan.  The unfinished houses that made up the village were made of flat, simple plywood, lined up one after another.  A sober grocery store sold simple woven goods of earthen colours made by local people, or else metal goods. And everywhere one could see flowers that resembled weeds that grow virtually everywhere throughout the world, and which sprang back to life no matter how many times you stamped on them. (17) The company houses that the Caucasians had abandoned were used as lodgings for the command staff and naval officers.  The army expeditionary units, out of their element on the sea, made do by dividing themselves up among the fields in the vicinity of the bay near the mountains or else on the red-capped peaks.  (17-18) The narrow, flat plain areas located between the mountains were used to construct log cabins, with enough room in them for one company.  
 
Nonetheless, it was a long trip from Hiroshima Bay (then known by its former name of Ujina Bay), which lasted around a month.  Although cramped and smelly, when I think back of my time spent on those hot transport ships it seemed like heaven. The convoy that made its way south from Hiroshima would pass by way of Palau before finally arriving at Rabaul. The area just outside of Palau’s harbour had already become perilous to Japanese shipping.  The convoy that set out at the start of 1943 and which managed to arrive safely at Rabaul was described as ‘lucky’, such was the danger of being sunk in the southern seas.  
 
Once the convoy had made its way safely into Rabaul harbour, the harbour itself sprang back to life as the new units made landfall one after another.   Black skinned natives, employed as dock workers in order to unload supplies, were crammed into army trucks in great numbers such was the amount of work for them to do. (18)  
 
If you walked in front of the Kempeitai (security police) headquarters near the harbour, from the open windows you would hear the sound of angry voices within yelling “Are you a spy?” or “Are you trying to sabotage the military?”, accompanied by the sound of a whip landing with a ‘thwack’ on some black skin, followed in turn by an anguished scream.  (18)
 
Sad news of the destruction of our combined fleet and the withdrawal from Guadalcanal soon reached us.  In the midst of our consternation and loss of morale, we began to be ruled by fatalism.  All of the news that made it to Rabaul spoke of defeat, with no room for any other news (other than that) concerning the worsening situation.  After the failure of the attack on Port Moresby, we then learned of the sacrifice of the base at Buna, itself an important location.  What it meant was that one corner of the defensive line in eastern New Guinea had collapsed. (18)  While the military had declared that Rabaul alone would never be surrendered to the enemy, the general opinion was that given our isolation and lack of support, it was only a matter of time (before this happened).  As a consequence, most of the labour was used to turn the entire island into a fortress, with a start made on creating a self-sufficient food supply. (19)
 
The first step towards destruction
 
The Solomon Islands is an archipelago running in a long line from north to south in the southern Pacific Ocean.  It was also the scene of the last major battle for the Imperial Japanese Navy.  Bougainville, the most important of islands in the chain, was maintained as the headquarters for the 17th Army and the 8th Fleet. However the losses at Midway and the Battles of the Solomon Islands, followed by the loss of Guadalcanal, completely changed the war’s dynamic in the South Pacific. (19)
 
Guadalcanal, a small island lying at the southern end of the archipelago, was virtually unknown to most Japanese who had no idea where it was located.  Yet the defence of the South Pacific that began on this island, and which involved every military unit sent to the south, would become the first step in the disintegration of the Greater Japanese Empire. This scenario was something that neither the General Staff, nor their regional military subordinates, had ever even dreamed was possible. (19)
 
The successful extraction of the 13,000 troops of the 2nd Sendai Division (led by Lieutenant General Maruyama Masao) from Guadalcanal was regarded with pride as a triumph.  And yet, the reality of the retreat and the failure of the reckless campaign could not be denied. The confusion and consternation of the central command and the regional armies was something equivalent to recklessness.  The failure of the defence of Guadalcanal meant that every effort was put into the extraction plan, which ultimately succeeded.  Yet what it also meant was that the shift to the defence of New Guinea would only be a matter of time. (20)
 
The decision to retreat from Guadalcanal ignored the threat to New Guinea posed by General Douglas MacArthur.  It also spoke of the failure of the overly optimistic plan to transfer one section of the 17th Army to New Guinea once Guadalcanal was secured.  It was a mistake to think that such a reactive strategy could proceed according to plan. (20)  
 
The withdrawal from Guadalcanal meant those destroyers sent to extricate the troops ended up depositing them on the shores of Rabaul. Oh my, what a bunch of malnourished men they were, reduced to little more than skin and bones.  These defeated, sick troops of the 2nd Division could not be sent to the front in New Guinea.   
 
There existed a complacency in the belief of the Emperor’s army and its invincibility, and a distorted education system that taught that Japan was the ‘land of the gods’ and divinely blessed. This education, since it began in childhood, seeped its way into the very marrow of our being, starting with the military and then spreading throughout the nation.  
 
There were, however, neither benevolent gods nor miracles present in the various battles of the South Pacific. (20)
 
We believed that a one-in-a-million chance fluke was the work of some divine presence.  But there was no way that such events would or could continue.  Worst case scenarios, in which a drowning man will clutch at straws and where prayers will go unanswered, showed the folly of such thinking.  This came as a great shock to us all.  It would in turn shatter the ambitions of the Japanese High Command and their southern fleet.  
 
Yet for those of us born and raised in a militaristic country, there was no choice but to dutifully advance along the road to war.  
 
Whatever the rights and wrongs of it were, once the war began, no matter how great your desire to win at all costs was or how ferocious your sense of duty to your country, the poor, antiquated capabilities of the Japanese military and civilian transport ships they relied on, which had been used since the time of the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars, were no match for the modern weaponry, the speed of the landings, and the air transport capabilities of the US military. (21)
 
The High Command, by making light of the transport situation, effectively sent one part of their army into a starvation-ridden hell, which robbed soldiers of their vitality and fighting abilities and sent them headlong along the road to self-destruction.  
 
One after another, the leaders of Japan taught the people to invoke the name of the Emperor as they went to a glorious death in battle, or else punish themselves by committing suicide to wipe away their shame, and impressed upon them their duty to fulfil these maxims.  This was why to the Japanese mind, the evacuation of General MacArthur to Australia following his defeat at the Battle of Corregidor in The Philippines, abandoning his subordinates when he should have taken responsibility by committing ritual suicide, made him a figure for ridicule, and led to the sin of negligence to take hold of us out of our contempt for him. (22)
 
Yet no matter how many defeats or collapses occurred, the High Command, in their desire to preserve their honour, continued to report on the superiority of Japanese forces while those same forces were undergoing rapid disintegration.  The transformation of the war situation led to desperation, which forced units on the frontline to participate in pointless campaigns, the end result of which was their death amid the hell of starvation. (22)
 
Meanwhile a certain nation, with its overwhelming economic power and manufacturing capability compared to Japan, was turning its automobile industries towards the mass production of aircraft.  Air raids would soon be carried out against the Japanese mainland, with the Boeing B-29, the so-called “Superfortress”, the principal instrument for such attacks. It was said that in America, it was possible to turn out 50 such airplanes a day. The lack of research on the modern weapons manufacturing capabilities of the US was a huge error given the need to know one’s enemy. (22)  
 
Speaking of the evils of the Japanese military, we were told that sending subordinates and commanders to their deaths (!) if the nation so demanded was in keeping with the traditional ethos of the warrior.  We paid little heed to actual concepts of Bushidõ taught by social anthropologists or else ignored them completely.  

The symbiosis of naked militarism with dogmatic thought laid the seeds for disaster.  It was often said that “a samurai pretends he has eaten well when he has no food” (i.e., keeps a stiff upper lip), so even if we were forced to stoop to eating grass, we all believed that we would win in a stand-up fight. (22)
 
While mouthing platitudes about the need for minutely detailed preparations for campaigning, delays in sending incomplete supply runs to various battlefields became the norm. In China, one meaningless expression that got a lot of use was “local arrangements”. As those at the front line couldn’t halt their advance to receive food supplies, they requisitioned any cows, pigs or chickens that were close at hand. Hence anything that could be put to use for the sake of the campaign would be done so to the maximum extent possible. For the High Command, who put a lot of emphasis on this sort of thinking, their negligence in logistics would become the norm by the time of the Pacific War. (23)
 
In New Guinea, where there simply wasn’t enough material available to engage in “local arrangements”, fighting progressed from being one with weapons to the struggle to stave off the hell of starvation. (23)
 
By this time, Douglas MacArthur, the man the Japanese High Command regarded as utterly toothless, had arrived at Port Moresby with 3 full US divisions and had Boeing B-17 “Flying Fortress” heavy bombers at his disposal. The speed at which the Americans were able to deploy these forces completely transcended the expectations of the Japanese High Command.   The first time we saw the bombers was in the sky over Rabaul.  They passed over at night in the stratosphere. (23)
 
A number of gigantic shapes floated in the searchlights beaming from the various warships in the harbour.  One after another they passed overhead, accompanied by a metallic whirring sound.  Just the mere presence of these enormous shapes was enough to intimidate the Japanese forces on the ground. (23)
 
Speaking of MacArthur, he had been humiliated in The Philippines.  For the sake of his honour, he had to recapture those islands.  After his evacuation from Corregidor, he made his famous declaration “I shall return”.  MacArthur, out of his sense of pride and destiny, and rather than brooding over his defeat, slowly but steadily built up the forces necessary for him to launch a counter-attack. It was a matter of course that he would have also included America’s overwhelming industrial and advanced military power in his calculations. By contrast, the Japanese High Command, when considering when the Americans might attack, believed that it would occur sometime after the summer of 1943. It was a miscalculation, an illusion born out of over-optimistic analysis of the results of the attack on Pearl Harbour. (24) 
 
At the Battle of Midway, and then during the three battles for the Solomon Islands, the Imperial Japanese Navy had engaged in these conflicts with the full expectation that it would win.  Yet what was the result?!  Utter defeat, leading to the downfall of the IJN.  An irreversible event.  And it would serve as a catalyst for the misfortune and deprivation regarding the amount of supplies in eastern New Guinea, as well as their transport and distribution, that the New Guinea expeditionary force would be forced to suffer until the bitter end. (24)   

This particular translation comes from Yoshida Yutaka’s study of the principle forms of combat casualties suffered by the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy both during the Japan-China War and the Pacific War. Yoshida’s purpose in writing the study stemmed from his belief that post-war generations had either never learned about the reality of life in the Imperial Japanese armed forces, or else had a distorted view of the wars that ignored their brutality in exchange for a more palatable version of history. The book has gone on to become a best-seller in Japan, although obviously has faced its critics from among the revisionist sector of Japan’s historical societies and right-wing advocacy groups.  
 
Yoshida Yutaka, “Nippon Gunpeishi – Ajia Taiheiyõ Sensõ no Genjitsu” (Soldiers of Japan – the Reality of the Asia – Pacific War), Chuõkõron, 2018 (Numbers in parenthesis indicate page numbers)
 
Chapter One
 
The soldiers who went to their deaths
 
The truth of the forlorn defence campaign
 
1.The exponential growth in deaths from disease and starvation
 
The rapid growth in casualties stemming from disease
 
Given the various developments that took place during the course of the war, how and in what way did Japanese soldiers die?  It is commonplace to think of deaths that occurred as a result of fighting when examining casualties on the battlefield.  However this logic cannot be applied to the Asia-Pacific War, in particular the reality of the defence campaign, or from 1944 onwards. Hereafter I intend to examine the type of deaths that were experienced during that phase and earlier phases of the war. (28). 
 
The first thing to point out is that there were an extraordinary number of deaths from disease.  When examining deaths in battle and deaths from disease, they are generally placed under the combined heading of ‘casualties’.  However I shall divide them up so that I can refer to those who died in battle as “battle casualties”, while those who died of illness will be “casualties from disease”.  
 
Wars of the early modern era were marked by a considerably greater number of casualties from disease than from actual fighting.  As a result of advancements in military medicine and nursing, as well as developments in logistics, the number of casualties from disease fell.  During the Russo-Japanese War, for example, the percentage of casualties from disease dropped to 26.3% of the total number of casualties suffered by the Japanese army. (28-29) The Russo-Japanese War thus marked the first time in the history of conflict that the number of battle casualties actually surpassed those who succumbed to illness (source: Soldiers and Battles of the Asia-Pacific War).
 
However during the Japan-China War, according to documents compiled by the 1st Department of Veterans’ Affairs in November 1945, the longer that conflict dragged on, the greater the increase in casualties from disease.  By 1941, the number of battle casualties from fighting in China had reached 12,498, while the number of casualties from disease totalled 12,713 (not including those involved in the Mukden Incident).  The percentage of those who died of illness, when compared to the total number of casualties, came to 50.4% (source: An Examination of Modern Warfare). While no comprehensive statistics survive from the Asia-Pacific War, as we shall soon see, when one considers the ferocity with which the Asia-Pacific War was fought, surpassing that of the Japan-China War, it is inconceivable to think that the number of casualties from illness in that war were less than those suffered in China. (28-29)
 
In order to narrow down on the number of casualties from illness, we must first examine unit histories.  Amid these histories, there are often lists of total casualties compiled using the unit’s own records. However these lists very rarely make the distinction between those who died in combat and those who died from illness. Let us therefore examine, for example, the unit history of the 1st Infantry Regiment of the China Occupational Army.  From the outset of the Japan-China War, the overall casualties from this regiment, which was at the forefront of fighting throughout the war, and according to its own “casualty lists”, came to 2,625. (29-30)
 
Thereafter, the number of battle casualties that took place during the so-called “defence campaign” period from 1944 onwards, and when combined with post-war deaths, came to 533, while deaths from illness came to 1,475, making a total of 2,008 (not including 14 whose date of death was uncertain, and 2 who died by accident).  The percentage of those who died from illness, compared to the total number of deaths from 1944 onwards, thus came to 73.5% of the casualties suffered by the 1st Regiment (source: Unit History of the 1stRegiment of the China Occupational Army). (30)
 
However one cannot rule out the possibility that the number of those who died of illness was greater than that quoted in the source above. This is because there was a tendency to “re-classify” deaths from illness as battle casualties at the front.  The reason stemmed from the fact that in both the military and society, a death in battle was regarded as a more meaningful then that from disease and was certainly considered more honourable. Torizawa Yoshio, who was sent as a reservist to the China front in June, 1942 as part of the 3rd Regiment of the China Occupational Army, wrote the following note about his experience. The 3rd Regiment, like the 1stRegiment, was affiliated with the 27th Division. (30)
 
“Members of the company fell ill, and as it was not easy to nurse people under field conditions, some of those men died.  Given the situation at the time, those who died from illness under such cruel conditions were looked on with pity, and so as their deaths were regarded as no different to those who died in combat. Thereafter, despite the absence of fighting, they would be recorded as having died in combat. What is more, as in the case of “T”, those who committed suicide while in the field would also be treated as combat casualties.” (source: 8000km Across the Continent). (30)
 
Unparalleled casualties rates from starvation
 
In order to complete the examination of casualties from disease, one must also examine its close relationship with deaths stemming from starvation.  This is because there were huge numbers of such deaths during the Asia-Pacific War.  As noted earlier, the total number of battle casualties among military and military affiliated personnel following on from the Japan-China War came to around 2.3 million. (31) According to the ground-breaking research conducted by Fujiwara Akira, this figure can be further divided up into soldiers who died from malnutrition and those who contracted diseases like malaria as a result of their malnutrition and subsequently died. When such casualties are totalled up, they constitute around 1.4 million deaths (or 61% of the total number of deaths) (source: The Starved Heroes).  (31) These statistics have been criticised by Hata Ikuhiko as excessively high, and that deaths from starvation constituted more like 37% of the total number of casualties. However Hata himself has admitted that “There is no escaping the fact that this was an absolutely unprecedented level (of deaths from starvation) in the annals of both domestic and foreign military history” (source: The Ecology of the former Imperial Japanese Army and Navy). (31) 
 
The reality of this tragedy is seen in what occurred during the defensive war in The Philippines that commenced in October, 1944.  According to a survey conducted by the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare in 1964, around 518,000 army, navy and associated personnel perished during that conflict.  It also mentioned the following in relation to those members of the Imperial Army who died (not counting those who drowned at sea, details on which will be revealed later):
 
“While there is a scarcity of resources from which accurate data can be obtained concerning the breakdown of casualty rates, in general around 35 – 40% of casualties came as a result of direct fighting (including operations against guerrillas), which meant that the remaining 60-65% of deaths were a result of disease.  Furthermore, among these casualties, those who actually died after contracting a malady of some form constituted less than half of the death rate from disease, which meant that a majority of those who died did so as a result of illness made worse because of starvation.”  (source: A History of Army Sanitation during the Great East Asian War) (The Philippines Conflict) (32)
 
The main reason for this increase in deaths from starvation was the loss of both sea and air superiority, which cut off supply lines for the Japanese military and led to severe shortages of food.  The percentage of war material that arrived at the front undamaged (also known as the rate of stability) stood at 96% in 1942. By 1943 it had dropped to 83%, and then 67% in 1944, and then finally 51% in 1945.  This meant that from one-third to half of all foodstuffs transported by sea were lost.  The drop in the rate of stability led to accumulated war material falling far below levels necessary to sustain an army in the field (source: The Pacific War – A record of Japan’s lost transport ships). (33)
 
The Japanese High Command was certainly aware of just how serious the shortage in supplies was and the problem of starvation among the troops. Kanbayashi Hiroshi, director of the Imperial Army Medical Corps within the Department of the Army, and who had recently returned to Japan from the southern front, issued the following warning about the state of health within the army in both the Solomon Islands and New Guinea at a meeting of the Medical Corps on the 23rd of August, 1943:
 
“Again, while local self-sufficiency can be sustained in Rabaul, it most certainly cannot at the front.  At the front, soldiers lack the strength to be able to bear the weight of their weapons because of their malnutrition (abridged) Furthermore, the leading cause of death at Wau (a New Guinea battlefield) is starvation.  (Abridged) Malnutrition robs soldiers of their will to fight.” (source: Daily Record of Duties within the Department of the Army, Vol.2, Chapter 8). (33)
 
Even the Shõwa Emperor (Emperor Hirohito) was aware of what the true state of affairs was. On the 7th of September 1943, the Emperor, when speaking to Lieutenant General Hasunuma Shigeru, the Emperor’s Aide de Camp, about the halt in supplies to the front, stated “(I cannot bear) the fact that the officers and soldiers have been plunged into something resembling starvation”, and then addressing the Chief of the General Staff, dictated that “I order you to convey my outrage about the supply situation (to the General Staff)” (source: Private Record of the Prime Minister within the Tõjõ Cabinet) (33)
 
War-related trophopathy (malnutrition)  - “like a living corpse”
 
It is important to note that in relation to issues surrounding malnutrition, there is a link between war-related malnutrition and war-related mental illnesses.  This malady was first noticed during the early stages of the Japan-China War.  During the Xuzhou campaign of April to June, 1938, many of the soldiers taking part in that conflict began to fall ill primarily a result of dramatic losses in weight, a lack of appetite, anaemia, and chronic diarrhea.   As treatment for such ailments was difficult, there were many cases which ended in death.  To address this problem, Lieutenant General Nagino Itsuki of the Army Medical Corps wrote a thesis titled “War-related Trophopathy”. The date of publication is unclear, however the cover contains the heading “Army Medical School (Northern China Army Edition)” written in typeset.  Within the thesis, General Nagino addressed the “three main symptoms” of high levels of atrophy, loss of appetite, and diarrhea.  (36)
 
In relation to his patients, General Nagino wrote “The ceaseless diarrhea brings on a decrease in the overall corporeal condition.  In addition to dramatic atrophy, patients lose subcutaneous fat, thus leading to shrunken muscles.  Patients’ bodies begin to appear mummified, vessels begin to constrict, and the patient is unable to maintain a constant body temperature. The limbs turn clammy, while the face turns expressionless and all desire to speak is lost.  Patients fall into a stupor, with glassy eyes, unable to communicate, and for all purposes appear to be ‘living corpses’.  Some fade away like ‘a slowly extinguishing candle’, while others who don’t appear to have such serious symptoms suddenly ‘collapse, and suffer cardiac arrest or pulmonary arrest and die’”. This paints a very vivid picture. (36)
 
Tanaka Hidetoshi, a medic assigned to the 4th Field Hospital of the 27th Division during the continental campaign of 1944, also portrayed the state of patients suffering from war-related malnutrition in a field hospital in the following manner:
 
“(Because of the large number of patients) In the case of the army, long periods of time spent at the front, with its lack of supplies and excessive mental strain, led to high incidences of acute malnutrition.  While this was generally described as “war-related malnutrition”, many of those who suffered from this illness also had amoebic dysentery, bacterial diarrhea, or malaria. Opinions regarding the malady varied when it first began to be researched, with the predominant theory being that it was by nature infectious.” (source: Materials concerning War-Related Malnutrition). (37)
 
However in the preface to his thesis, General Nagino noted that “From around 1942 onwards, and as a result in the spread of education regarding this condition, identical cases were detected in inland areas that had not experienced any fighting. What is more, in the following year there was an increase in such cases, which was a completely unforeseen development.” What this demonstrated was that it was impossible to simply conclude that harsh fighting conditions led to outbreaks of infectious disease cases. (37)  
 
One person acutely aware of this situation was army medic Colonel Namba Mitsushige.  In the preface to his thesis written after the war, he stated that “In relation to the state of health (within the army), long conflicts led to a drop in nutrition, or to put this another way, it led to a condition known as war-related malnutrition syndrome. Its primary symptoms are malnutrition leading to a loss in weight and motivation, and exhaustion brought on by the nature of the war. I intend to argue that there were in fact two separate kinds of war-related malnutrition syndrome.  The first I have dubbed “chronic war-related malnutrition syndrome”, as it included infectious diseases like amoebic dysentery, malaria, or tuberculosis, which would repeatedly re-occur.  The other was not an infectious disease, but rather something that appeared in conjunction with any serious pre-existing ailment, and had no known infection source. This I refer to as “primary war-related malnutrition syndrome” (Source: A pathological anatomical study of 51 strains of so called ‘war-related malnutrition syndrome’). (38-39)
 
What is important to note here is that army physicians had already established the existence of “primary war-related malnutrition syndrome”, which had no relation to any infectious disease. (39)
 
When compared to the army, naval studies into war-related malnutrition syndrome were both late and appeared to favour the infectious-disease theory.  Naval medic Commander Abe Isao, along with five other physicians, examined the possibility that Gartner’s bacillus (a form of salmonella) had led to food poisoning among 11 sailors who were part of a group of 18 suspected of having war-related malnutrition syndrome. In the chapter of their report titled “In relation to the so-called war-related malnutrition syndrome”, they surmised their belief that the principle cause of this condition lay in malaria, dysentery, amoebic conditions, as well as Gartner’s bacillus (source: Self-instruction manual for local conditions in the southern theatre). (39) 
 
As we shall see, one of the characteristics of the Imperial navy was its disregard for psychiatric illness.  Yet this factor repeatedly made an appearance in issues related to war-related malnutrition syndrome.  (39)
 
The strong link to neuropsychiatric symptoms
 
Ultimately the army collapsed without ever establishing the origins of war-related malnutrition syndrome. However thereafter a new theory emerged to explain its prevalence. Aoki Tõru, himself a physician during the war and who engaged in the study of war-related malnutrition syndrome, noted that “There is a tendency to believe that a majority of the army medical corps considered amoebic dysentery the cause of war-related malnutrition syndrome”.  He himself, by concentrating on the pituitary gland, below which lay the part of the brain controlling appetite, posited the following:
 
“In relation to war-related malnutrition syndrome, its early symptoms were a passivity exacerbated by monomaniacal strategists (i.e., commanders that ignored the lack of supplies). The loss of physical strength derived from this passivity would progress, with latter symptoms fatally affecting those areas of the brain located under the pituitary gland. This would result in the loss of regulatory functionality, which then led to the collapse of homeostasis in the patient, which would eventually result in death.” (source: A secret record of war-related malnutrition syndrome). (40). 
 
In other words, a shortage of supplies including food, physical and mental exhaustion brought on by the constant fighting, and the cruelties of war, together with stress, nervousness, tension and fear, brought about changes to the equilibrium within the body known as homeostasis. This led to a loss of appetite and the appearance of eating disorders.  More recently, Dr Noda Masaaki, a psychiatrist, has written about war-related malnutrition syndrome. In his study, Dr Noda wrote that “In truth, soldiers began to refuse to eat. They would vomit up anything they did eat, which made their condition worse.  At the front, where one had to maintain one’s health, this amounted to a decision by the body to quit living”. (41)
 
Nevertheless, war-related malnutrition syndrome was not a result of simple malnutrition, but one inexorably linked to war-related neuropsychological conditions.  
 
We have examined this issue from a variety of angles during this chapter, so we can conclude that the largest number of deaths among the soldiery were not battle casualties, but rather casualties from disease, among which starvation ranked as the principal culprit. (41)

From Owada Tetsuo’s “Hideyoshi”, published by Chûko Shinsho 2007 (numbers after paragraphs refer to pages)
 
Chapter VII. Reproducing the Taikõ legend
 
The militarization of Japan and Hideyoshi
 
I have spent an inordinate amount of time within the pages of this book examining the issue of the invasion of the Korean peninsula, which itself is one issue among many of Hideyoshi’s.   However, at this particular juncture, were I attempting to evaluate Hideyoshi, it would be impossible for me to ignore the question of Hideyoshi’s invasion of Korea.  Why? Because since the Meiji period, Hideyoshi has been praised and held up as a national hero, a legend in which the invasion of Korea is an indispensable part. However until the end of the Edo period, Hideyoshi’s popularity was of a completely different character. It was tied to an anti-Bakufu ethos shared among the common people - the so called “Taikõ effect”.  It was, in essence, a reproduction (or re-issue) of the Taikõ legend. (176)
 
During the Edo period, and as touched upon at the beginning of this book, a “pro” Hideyoshi ideology emerged in the form of dissent against the “deification of Lord (Tokugawa) Ieyasu”.  Given that the Bakufu form of government was by its very nature oppressive, anti-Bakufu and anti-Tokugawa ideology took the form of anachronistic depictions of the Hideyoshi era, or else a yearning to return to that era.  This was a result of the image of Hideyoshi portrayed in the “Ehon Taikõki” (The Illustrated Record of the Taikõ) and the “Shinsho Taikõki” (The New Record of the Taikõ).  Upon the arrival of the Meiji era, one further aspect was added to these pre-existing notions. (177)
 
This was the advance of Japan onto the continent. In other words, as militaristic strategy took on more concrete forms, suddenly a lot of focus was placed on Hideyoshi as a sort of ‘pioneer’ or ‘harbinger’.  I’ll give you one example of this.  An old elementary school song went as follows:
 
Over one hundred years ago, when the world was racked with turmoil,
the ‘ensign bearing gourds’ (i.e Hideyoshi) suddenly appeared,
and tamed the four winds and seas,
The trees and grass of over sixty provinces wave in the breeze,
Oh, Taikõ, Hõ Taikõ
 
With overwhelming strength, he invaded Chõsen,
on every street and road, he defeated all before him,
The nation’s light shone bright, and its glory was acclaimed,
Over four hundred provinces all shake as one,
Oh, Taikõ, Hõ Taikõ
 
The first verse sings of the unification of the nation, while the second of the invasion of the Chõsen peninsula.  While the unification of the nation occurred as depicted in the song, the invasion of the Chõsen peninsula is completely at odds with historical reality. Moreover, since it is at odds with reality, it seeks to justify the actions taken during Hideyoshi’s invasion. Hence the references to “the nation shining bright, and national glory” to herald the nation’s achievements.  
 
Another particular point to remember is that this song was composed with the Sino-Japanese War and the Russo-Japanese War – two wars involving invasions of the mainland – as a background.  The Japanese Empire had already embarked on a strategy of large-scale invasion of Korea and China, hence the “bright, shining example of the pioneer Hideyoshi” was introduced to heighten awareness of the nation’s glories. (178)
 
Another elementary song went as follows:
 
Although he rose wearing the clothes of the common man,
He stood above all others,
Who was he, into whose hand fell over sixty provinces?
 
The glories that remain are reflected in today’s world like a mirror,
Who was it, who made the nation’s glorious name known to all and sundry?
 
This song (and others like it) stirred emotions, and the effects of the education provided to children at the time was quite profound.  As seen by the lyrics of elementary school songs, the message that “the invasion of Chõsen by Hideyoshi was a magnificent act that spread the name of Japan far and wide, and is a mirror (for modern times)” became a deeply rooted ideology among the commonalty of Japan.  In truth, Imperial Japan embarked upon its invasion of Korea using Hideyoshi as a guide. (178-179)
 
The union of Japan and Korea and Hideyoshi’s invasion plan for Chõsen 
 
The Treaty of Ganghwa was concluded in the year following the Ganghwa Island Incident of the 8th year of Meiji (1875).  This treaty resulted in Japan opening up Chõsen (Korea), but it also exacerbated the stand-off with Qing China over the suzerainty of Chõsen.  The subsequent Imo (Jingo) Incident of the 15th year of Meiji (1882) and the Gapsin Incident (or coup) of 1884 eventually led Japan and Qing China to sign the Treaty of Tianjin (1885). However the lull created by the treaty did not last long, and in the 27th year of Meiji (1894) Japanese and Qing China troops clashed, which in turn lead to the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War. Victory in this conflict then expedited Japan’s advance into neighbouring countries. (179)
 
While the purpose of Japan’s war with Qing China was to bring the Chõsen peninsula under Japanese control, it was not as successful as initially planned. Furthermore, the Sino-Japanese War resulted in an increase in Russian influence over Korea.  In February 1904, Japan embarked a large-scale army to the Chõsen peninsula.  With this military force in place, Japan and Korea concluded and ratified the Japan-Korea Treaty. This meant that Korea essentially became a Japanese protectorate.  Following Japan’s victory over Russia in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, the Potsdam Treaty was signed and Japan assumed overall control of Korea. (180) In the meantime, while Japan was fighting the Sino and Russo-Japanese wars and signing the Ganghwa and Korean treaties, a Kabuki play known as the “Taikõki” (or Record of the Taikõ) concurrently began to be performed, a point that has often escaped attention. 
 
In 1889 (Meiji 22), Kabuki theatres were opened with debut performances of the ‘Taikõki’.  From 1891, and on throughout the Sino and Russo-Japanese wars, the number of performances of this play underwent a dramatic increase (as detailed within Shin Gisu’s ‘The 300th Anniversary Festival of Hideyoshi at Mimizuka’, Kabuki “Taikõki” and “Hideyoshi’s Invasion and Osaka Castle”).  Incidentally, when examining the yearly debut performances of ‘Taikõki tales’, in 1882 the Ichimura-za (or theatre) performed the “Hariõgi Chõsen Gunki” (The Folding Fan Military Tales of Chõsen) (written by Kawatake Mokuami). In 1885, the same Ichimura-za performed the “Tane-hisago Shinsho Taikõki” (The Seed Gourd True Tales of the Taikõki) (written by Kawatake Shinshichi the Third). Moreover in 1886, the same Ichimura-za performed the “Hanamidoki Hisago Taikõki” (The Flower-Viewing Gourd Taikõki) (also by Shinshichi the Third).  (179-180)
 
As seen by the title of the “Hariõgi Chõsen Gunki”, this play was mainly about Hideyoshi’s invasion of the Chõsen peninsula.  The year of its debut performance, 1882, coincided with the Imo (Jingo) Incident, hence the eyes and ears of the populace had already turned towards Chõsen.  As becomes clear given the popularity at the time of the “Taikõki Gunki Chõsen Kan” (The Taikõki War Tales – Chõsen Version) penned by Fukuchi Õchi, the advance of Japan on the continent was accepted by the people as synonymous with Hideyoshi’s invasion of the Chõsen peninsula.  As Professor Shin pointed out, the only conclusion one can draw from this is that Kabuki and other forms of dramatic entertainment made a large contribution to the rise of the anti-Chõsen campaign and invasion ideology.   (181)
 
Following the Russo-Japanese war, Japan’s control over Korea was absolute. In 1905, the second Japan-Korea Co-operation Treaty was signed, which resulted in the transferral of Korea’s diplomatic rights to Japan, the installation of the post of governor in Gyeongseong (Seoul) along with the creation of a domestic administration. Itõ Hirofumi served as the first governor of Korea. Of course, this led to outbreaks of resistance within Korea, however these were suppressed and the course of transforming Korea into a protectorate continued. Finally, in 1910, the union of Japan and Korea was complete. The name of the nation was changed from Korea to Chõsen, and the Chõsen Governor’s Office was installed. The governor, as chief officer, was also the commander of all land and sea forces in Chõsen, and so held absolute power over the constitution, the judiciary, and the administration.  (181)
 
On the 29th of August, following the conclusion of the “Japan-Korea Treaty for Union with Korea”, that evening the first Chõsen governor, Terauchi Masakata, while looking at the moon through his window, wrote somewhat poetically:
 
“If Kobayakawa, Katõ, and Konishi were still of this world, how many times will they have looked upon this moon?” (*Note that all three were generals that took part in Hideyoshi’s invasion of Chõsen)
 
Terauchi Masakata, along with the government officials and military officers at the time, all shared the belief that through the Union of Korea and Japan, they had finally brought Hideyoshi’s dream to fruition. (182)
 
The Invasion of Chõsen and the “Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere”
 
(From the Meiji era onwards) the basic direction of justifying invasion and the glorification of Hideyoshi underwent no substantial modification.  Indeed, as Japan travelled along the road towards militarism, the role of Hideyoshi as a “shining example” was given even greater emphasis than that found during the Sino and Russo-Japanese wars and the Union with Korea.  During the course of Japan’s military invasions of the Chinese continent and into Southeast Asia, once again Hideyoshi made an appearance (in the public consciousness).  The trigger for the 15-year conflict between Japan and China, the so-called Mukden Incident, also coincided with the completion of the iron and concrete recreation of Osaka Castle. (190-191) The completion of the castle and its dedication ceremony took place on the 7th of November in the 6th year of Shõwa (1931).  
 
The Liu Tiao Gou Incident took place on the 18th of September of the same year as the dedication of the castle, and one cannot say that these two events were unrelated.  More definitive than this was the talk of “Hideyoshi’s dream” that emerged around the time of the outbreak of the Pacific War and Japan’s advance into Southeast Asia.  The editorials of the newspapers at the time certainly adopted this view, as can be seen in the headlines and articles written in January of 1942 concerning the Fall of Manila. (191)
 
The “Mainichi Shimbun” for the 8th of January wrote “The dream that the brilliant Hõ Taikõ held 350 years ago, that the light of the “origin of the sun” (Hi no moto, i.e Nippon) would shine from the administered continent all the way to Luzon Island in the south, is inexorably bound to the Fall of Manila”.  The “Asahi Shimbun”, for the same day, touched upon the “Festival honouring the Hõ Taikõ on the occasion of the Fall of Manila” when it reported “What comes to mind following the Fall of Manila and the continuing reports of victory by Imperial forces over the entire Philippines is the letter sent by the National Hero, the Hõ Taikõ, welcoming trade with the Philippine Islands as one part of his overall plan for a united East Asia. This is an historical fact. So this year, given it marks the 350th anniversary of this event, the commercial district of Osaka will hold the “Festival Honouring the Hõ Taikõ” and its “Congratulatory Parade” on the 9th to mark the Fall of Manila and celebrate both the spirit of the Taikõ and the realisation of his ambition”. (191)
 
As Kashiwai Hiroyuki pointed out, celebrations held on the 350th anniversary were obviously military celebrations, major events to both deify Hideyoshi as a “war god” during the “Great East Asia War” and glamorize the invasion of Manila (see Kashiwai Hiroyuki “the Mukden Incident and the Reconstruction of Osaka Castle Keep”, “the Fall of Manila” and celebrations of the 350th Anniversary of Hideyoshi’s Correspondence”, and “Hideyoshi’s Invasion and Osaka Castle”).  Hideyoshi was thus co-opted as one part of the broader “Greater East Asian Co-prosperity Sphere” campaign. (192)
 
For example, the historian Uozumi Sõgorõ stated “The grand concept of administering Greater East Asia held by the peerless hero Hõ Taikõ, stretching back 350 years, has today been realised at the hands of the Imperial Army, and so the designs of that great man have been revealed in all their dazzling colour” (from “Consideration of the ambitions of the Hõ Taikõ”  1st Volume, Published April, 1942).  Thereafter this form of thinking became the norm and was a shared awareness, as seen in the following example: “Today, at this stage in the epochal development of the Japanese people, I wish to examine the ambitions of the Hõ Taikõ - ambitions that should be described as precursors.  Just as the Great East Asia War of today could be expressed in many ways as the ultimate realisation of the Japanese spirit, the active implementation of strategy during those times and their spirit of leadership is something that we share in common.” (Uemura Heihachi’rõ, ‘The ambitions of Hõ Taikõ and Nagoya Castle’, 1943, foreward). (192)
 
Nakano Seigõ, who advocated Pan-Asianism, founded the Tõhõkai and was an ultra-right wing politician, is a famous example of this form of thinking, given that he co-operated in the transformation of the political system into fascism and from 1940 onwards served as the chairman of the Dai-Seiyoku Sankai.  Within the Shintõ-Juku, a cram school for the youth wing of the Tõhõkai that Nakano himself led, Hideyoshi was taught to students using the textbook “Taikõ Hideyoshi” (1943, published by the Tõhõdõshikai).  It is worth examining this particular book to show how those advocating wars of invasion regarded Hideyoshi. (192)
 
The reason that Nakano gave for raising the example of Hideyoshi was “As you know, Hideyoshi was a brilliant general who spread the glorious name of Japan far and wide, as well as serving as a politician”.  Furthermore, “His attitude of unconcern for material things and magnificent bearing personified the simple, honest Japanese.  His heart was always fair and upright, and his bearing towards all matters was not confected but emitted a brilliant natural light, illuminating all and setting the world to right.  The mirror of his soul was perfectly clear.  In his role as an educator to the nation, he did not become mired in theory, but was a naturally disposed Japanese hero.  The Goddess Amaterasu truly favoured this most genuine of her descendants”.  In short, Hideyoshi was the model for what it meant to be “Japanese”, and was very much a Japanese-style of hero. 
 
Nakano regarded Hideyoshi’s invasion of Chõsen as the “first step in the creation of a Greater East Asia” and took Hideyoshi’s war record as a basis for lessons. For example, “While Japan, Germany and Italy are winning and the bonds between each are strong, we must ensure that no gaps emerge between us lest it lead to the start of a British-American “peace conspiracy”.  If this happens, the sickness of pro-US and British ideology will emerge once again. We will all be sucked in by their wily schemes, and debate within the nation will fracture.  If just one crack were to appear in the axle that binds us, the US and Britain will appear to skilfully break us all apart. Japan is honour bound to its allies, and in order to achieve our shared goals must act in an honest and forthright manner.  Being led astray by immediate selfish, minor interests, immersed in calculations, and misinterpreting the general state of affairs will lead to a swift downfall.  Japan must be convincing in its mission to raise up Greater East Asia in the world.  Those who become too engrossed in their own little schemes will in turn be ensnared by other schemes”.  To Nakano, Hideyoshi was a mirror for what was happening now.  (193-194)
 
In an age where the flames of war spread from the Chinese continent to Southeast Asia, one could say that Hideyoshi was man built for such an era. I vividly recall the words written by the novelist Tanaka Sumie, who pointed out the following: “Hideyoshi’s motivation for sending troops to Chõsen, the implementation of his plans, the end result of all of this activity, the waste, the great loss of human life, very closely resembles the ‘holy war’ ideology that possessed Japan during the Great East Asian War” (from ‘Why was the Kanpaku Hidetsugu murdered?’ in “Rekishi Dokuhon” published November 1983). (194)

I will admit that this particular entry was inspired by a recent visit to the National Gallery of NSW to view their “Japan Supernatural” exhibition. The exhibition, in addition to including works by modern artists such as Aoshima Chiho and Murakami Takashi, also featured various works depicting ghosts, goblins, demons, and other creatures of Japanese folklore from the early Edo period. So on that note, I decided to pull out my rather well-thumbed copy of Sugiura Hinako’s “O Edo de gozaru” (お江戸でござる) to translate the chapter dedicated to “ghosts and monsters” (pgs.182 to 191).  Hopefully it captures some of the fascination surrounding the subject matter that Sugiura sought to convey to the reader.

“A popular trend from the mid-Edo period onwards was the telling of “one hundred tales of terror”.  In the evening, adults would gather together, with participants telling between 4 to 5 horror stories each. In the centre of an otherwise dark room were placed 100 candles, lit one after another, the light from which shone on the candle trays supporting them.  Once a tale had been told, a single candle would be put out so that the room grew progressively darker.  By the time of the witching hour (around 2 in the morning), all 100 tales had been told.   Upon the extinguishment of the last remaining candle, creatures of the night would instantly emerge from all directions, making such gatherings a kind of ‘monster viewing’ party. 

However, it was common practice to refrain from telling the hundredth tale.  Superstition had it that if the hundredth story was told, misfortune would befall whomever had spoken it. People were afraid that they would regret having told the hundredth tale, and so avoided doing so.

In truth, there was a very clear distinction between “monsters” and “ghosts”.  ‘Ghosts’ appeared to a specific person and would deliberately seek that person out.  The character of “O-Iwa san” from the Tale of Yotsuya by Tamiya Iemon was one example of this. 

‘Monsters’, on the other hand, would attach themselves to objects and the elements of the natural world, similar in manner to a haunting, and from there would appear to anybody who happened to be passing by.  One example of this was “O-Kiku san” from the “Sara Yashiki Densetsu”, and whose modus operandi consisted of emerging from a well.  There were also monsters who only appeared at fixed times, and so you would be able to avoid them if you refrained from passing their haunting ground during certain hours of the day or night. 

‘Monsters’ consisted of many different forms – from animals such as foxes, badgers, and sparrows, to trees and grass.  Many ancient tales of Japan had monsters made musical instruments and common household objects such as Koto harps, Biwa lutes, Sheng (or Shō) mouth organs, and even cauldrons.  Their purpose was to serve as a lesson to “look after your possessions”. 

‘Monsters’ were divided up into those that transformed and those that didn’t.  Badgers, foxes, ‘snow woman’, and ‘Rokuro-kubi’ (the ‘long-necked woman’) were all examples of everyday people and animals that could undergo transformation. By contrast, ‘Kappa’ (water sprites), ‘Tengu’ (forest goblins), ‘Nurarihyon’ (“the old monk with the elongated head”), and ‘Suna-kake Baba’ (the “old woman who throws sand”) all appeared as they were.  They constituted a separate category to “monsters”, which is why they were referred to as ‘Yōkai’ (or ‘creatures’). 

‘Monsters’ lived in close proximity to the townspeople of Edo.  One of these, known as the ‘Adzuki Bean Washer”, didn’t do anything nefarious at all, merely producing a noise of adzuki beans being washed.  One would think it better to wash rice, but it appears this was a no-no. 

One ‘monster’ that appeared in an unclean public bath was “Akaname” (or ‘filth licker’), who would turn up to lick the dirt and other debris out of a bathtub.  The lesson to be learned from this was “keep your bathtubs clean, otherwise a ‘monster’ will appear”. 

Another ‘monster’ was ‘Nebutori’, an immensely overweight woman who slept on a pile of cushions.  The lesson here was “if you are lazy, then this is what you’ll become”. 

Around the Honjō area there were a large number of canals (or ditches, if you like).  One of these was the infamous “Oite kebori”, although since a canal by this name was never specially designated, it seems that any canal into which someone cast a fishing line could be classified as an “oite kebori”. 

If you spent all day trying to catch fish and ended up on the canal bank as it grew dark, it was said that the spirit of the canal would command you to “leave, leave!” (or 置いてけー、置いてけー！) . If you chose to leave then you would be fine. However if you chose to stay, then some misfortune would later befall you, or all of the fish that you wished to catch would disappear.  This served as a warning not to get carried away in catching fish, and also prevented any water-related accidents around the canal. When it grew dark, there was a greater risk of stepping in a mudhole and end up drowning.

“Oite kebori” was one of the tales that appeared in the “seven mysterious tales of Honjō”. Others included “Kataba no Ashi” (or “The Single Root”), “Tanuki Bayashi” (the “Badger Dance”), “Ochibanaki Shii” (the “Evergreen Beech Tree”), “Okuri Chōchin” (or “the Fleeting Lamp”), “Tsugaruke no Taiko” (the “Drum of the Tsugaru”), and “Mutō Soba” (the “unlit soba noodles”), among others.

“The Fleeting Lamp” was a somewhat positive tale.  When hurriedly returning home late at night, a lamp would occasionally appear and disappear off in the distance ahead of the person running. This lamp was held by a beautiful woman. However the top half of the woman might be hidden by the dark of night, so it was by no means guaranteed that the woman would be beautiful. 

“The Single Root”, by way of contrast, was apparently a true tale of a tree root whose leaves would only appear on one side.

“The Evergreen Beech Tree” was a tale of a giant beech tree whose leaves never fell off, and other such tales of woe. 

Then there was “Ashiarai Yashiki” (or “The Foot-Washing House”).  According to this tale, in the dead of night a giant foot, dripping with mud, would suddenly appear from the ceiling. If you washed the foot, it would immediately disappear.  However if you left it be, it would grow violent and impossible to control.

In addition to Honjō, many other monsters appeared in the newly built suburbs of Azabu and Yoshiwara close to the outskirts of Edo.  As the city continued to develop, the population increased, and many of the suburbs that were rapidly emerging contributed to the destruction of the natural environment surrounding them.  The foxes and badgers that lived in such areas found themselves without places to live nor food to eat, and so began to appear more frequently in human habitats.  It was among such conditions as this that tales of creatures undergoing transformation grew in popularity.

For the people of Edo, who loved a good mystery, the very height of this culture was manifest in the works of the scholar Hirata Atsutane (平田篤胤).  He would go about collecting tales told by the people of the city, and would note them down for posterity.  Among these tales was one of “Heitarō”, the boy who feared nothing.  In this tale, despite being visited by a number of different monsters and creatures over many nights, Heitarō was afraid of none of them, merely commenting “well that’s an odd looking thing”.  Such was his reaction to them that many of the monsters grew more fascinated with him, with ‘Oyadama’ (a giant eye ball) eventually deciding to become his guardian spirit.  

Atsutane conceived of a world in which gods, spirits, and humans all co-existed.  He opened up a private academy in the centre of town known as “Ibuki no Ya” (or ‘The Breathing Inn’), where he told tales of other worlds to those who would listen.  He reportedly had 553 students of his own, and when combined with visitors these might exceed 3000, making it a very lively venue indeed.  Such was his fame that Atsutane came to the attention of the Bakufu government, who ordered him on three separate occasions to “quit talking such nonsense, and advance the cause of national studies.” 

While tales of terror were certainly used as entertainment before the Edo period, in the early Edo period virtually all ghost stories were about men.  There were tales of spirits who, after being defeated in battle, would continue to haunt their descendants.  There were violent ghosts, who after being killed in a fight with another warrior, laid a curse on their murderer’s children, saying that he would “kill them all”.  It was only from the mid-Edo period, a time of relative peace, when people started to think that it was far more frightening to have a beautiful woman transform into a monster.

The person most responsible for the popularity of this type of narrative was the Rakugo entertainer Hayashiya Shōzō (林家正蔵).  He believed that rather than simply trying to frighten people, using humour and other elements would make stories more memorable. So he would use various props, such as flying fireballs or modified pieces of furniture.  People dressed as ghosts would also suddenly spring out behind an audience listening to one of Shōzō’s stories and frighten the bejesus out of them. Over time, tales of terror became popular within the world of Kabuki theatre as well.

I cannot help the feeling that with the climate of the earth currently hanging in a precipitous balance, with every indication that if nothing is done to mitigate the effects of human-induced climate change then large sectors of the earth with become uninhabitable to all forms of mammal and plant life, that a lot of these problems are the logical conclusion of activities unleashed during the nineteenth century.  In other words, the modern world, for all of its technical achievements, has yet to escape the debilitating effects of a world built on the subjugation and industrialisation of nature and its resources.

The nineteenth century, carrying on the ethos of the industrial revolution as it was practiced in the United Kingdom from the eighteenth century onwards, regarded nature as a thing to be tamed, codified, and exploited for the betterment of the nation and for humanity as a whole.  This was to be achieved by a naked form of capitalism, of exploitation for the sake of profit, with the means of production and distribution to be ever thus refined and improved so that those profits could be distributed faster and wider than before.

To realise this goal, the United Kingdom (and then other European states) needed to control resources and subjugate those who held them so that both could then be put to use for the sake of the industrial state. Hence the development of imperialism, and with it militarism, which would in time be followed by mercantilism and commercialism. It created the basis for the concepts of destiny and superiority that were central to nineteenth century theories concerning race.  These forces would continue to hold sway over Europe, and its colonial branches, for over a century as the drive to achieve “prosperity” sent government and commercial entities to every corner of the globe in the search for more resources to exploit.   

Such ideology, which believed in eternal progress and industrialization as the key to “prosperity”, only occasionally considered the ramifications of what such activity would do to the natural world.  Adjustments would not begin to be made until the effects of industrialisation and commercialisation became blatant to large sections of society, thus initiating movements (from the late 1960s onwards) aimed at trying to mitigate some of the damage created over the previous century.  Yet the fundamental ideology underpinning the industralisation and commericalisation of Western and later Eastern societies – exploitation of resources for the scientific betterment of society and humanity as a whole – did not change.  It continued to hold sway over government and business thinking, and dictated how such bodies would react to changes in the natural world.

Those forces that the nineteenth century thought admirable and aspirational have, over time, proven a curse to the modern world.  This naked desire for “prosperity” has ruined the very ecological systems that allowed human society to thrive in the first place. If human society is to have a future, it must learn that “sustainability” is crucial not only to humans but to all forms of life.  “Sustainability” means rejecting those forms of industralisation which cause the greatest harm to the largest number of species. It, at its very core, means finding ways to live which do not damage the threads by which life itself is sustained. 

Humans have within their means the ability to change their society to make it sustainable.  It means moving away from the destructive technology of the nineteenth (and, to a great extent the twentieth) century and the exploitative ideology that drove such destruction.  Yet the time for change is running out before irreparable harm is done that will diminish humanity and condemn it to a future plagued by nightmares.

(The punishment of Nezumi Kozōjiro Kichi), 3rd year of Tenpō, 1832
Nezumi Kozōjiro Kichi was born in the vicinity of Nihon-bashi. His father was said to have been a doorman belonging to the Nakamura theatre, although many theories exist regarding his occupation. When he was 16, Nezumi became an apprentice to a furniture maker under the patronage of Matsudaira Sanuki no Kami, but did not continue in this role.  After a brief stint as a retainer to a samurai household, Nezumi became a footman for a firefighting company, and through that liaison fell in with gamblers who made their living along the Fukugawa river area. (pg.171)

Around the 6th year of Bunzei (1823), Nezumi began his career as a burglar in earnest. On the 8th day of the 5th month of Tenpō 3 (1832), at the age of 27, Nezumi was arrested after sneaking into the residence of Matsudaira Kunai no Shōyū near Hama-chō. It was only the investigate skill of the attending magistrate to the case, Sakakibara Tadayuki, who was able to discern that the prisoner brought in front of him was in fact the renowned thief Nezumi Kozōjiro. According to his deposition, Nezumi avoided robbing residences of merchants, whose security was often quite comprehensive, and instead focused on samurai households who, while outwardly might appear to be secure, were in fact quite lax when it came to protecting their wares.  Over the course of 10 years, Nezumi had broken into the 99 or so major samurai residences of Edo 120 times, and anything he had stolen had later been used to obtain funds which were spent on women, sake, and gambling. (pg.171)

On the 19th day of the 8th month of Tenpō 3, Nezumi was paraded through the streets of Edo before being taken to the Kozukatsubara execution ground, where he received his sentence of execution by crucifixion.  After his death, legends arose surrounding Nezumi, particularly his generosity in providing money to the poor. This “noble bandit” thus underwent a transformation in the minds of the commoners of Edo, becoming a hero to young and old alike. (pg,171)

(The Tenpō Reforms), 12th year of Tenpō, 1841

 In the 5th month of the 12th year of Tenpō, a senior retainer to the Tokugawa Bakufu by the name of Mizuno Tadakuni announced a series of reforms. Thereafter, bans were placed in rapid succession on adult entertainment and displays of ostentatiousness.  Festivals, theatre, and outdoor exhibitions were banned, thus forcing smaller theatres to move to the Asakusa area.  In the following year, published works by popular writers such as Ryūtei Tanehiko and Tamenaga Shunsui were banned, and the 7th generation head of the Ichikawa Kabuki theatre, Ichikawa Danjurō, found himself forced to leave Edo on account of his profession and his opulent lifestyle. (pg.171)

The official responsible for enforcing these bans was Torii Yōzō, otherwise known by a pun on his name as “the monster”. He was not averse to framing citizens with false charges, and so the people of Edo tried to keep a low profile while Yōzō was in charge. Two years later Mizuno was removed from his position, an event that was marked by around 1,000 or so townspeople gathering outside his residence and throwing stones at it. (pg.171)

(The Coming of the Black Ships), 6th year of Kaei, 1853

In 1841 the Opium War (Ahen Sensō) came to an end, with European and North American powers vying with each other for control of and trade with China. The United States in particular had thrown itself into the task of opening up Pacific trade routes with vigour, and so came to make demands on the Tokugawa Bakufu for the provision of water and other supplies for its ships as they moved from East to West and back again.  In the 6th month of the 6th year of Kaei (1853), the commander of the US East India Fleet, Commodore Matthew Perry, led four frigate vessels (part steam, part sail driven) on a mission to Japan, weighing anchor offshore from Uraga.  Perry then proceeded to negotiate with the Tokugawa Bakufu, although perhaps threaten might be a more apt description of the talks between both sides. (pg.171-172)

The Bakufu had the four US frigates surrounded by smaller official boats and fishing vessels, yet obviously these were no match for the frigates. After presenting Bakufu officials with a list of demands on behalf of the US government, Perry departed Japan, telling his hosts that he would return in the following year to receive their answer. One year later, and true to his word, Perry returned. After receiving the Bakufu’s response, which essentially rejected the demands made by the US, Perry gave orders for his vessels to move to the seas off Shinagawa and from there make a show of force by firing their (unloaded) cannon. For the people of both Edo and the surrounding areas, who had never seen such black ships before, the thundering of the cannon gave them an awful fright. (pg.172)

In the following year, the Bakufu gave in to the US demands and signed the Convention of Peace and Amity between the United States of America and the Empire of Japan (also known as the Treaty of Kanagawa), thereby bringing the 200-year old policy of isolation of Japan from the world to an end. (pg.172)

(The Sakurada Gate Incident), 1st year of Man’en, 1860

On a cold and snowy 3rd day of the 3rd month of the 1st year of Man’en (1860), just outside the Sakurada Gate leading into Edo Castle, senior retainer to the Tokugawa Bakufu, Ii Naosuke, and his retinue were attacked by 18 samurai hailing from Mito province. Naosuke himself was killed during the assault.   Naosuke’s crime, if it can be called that, was to have ratified the Treaty of Amity and Commerce Between the United States and the Empire of Japan without waiting for Imperial approval. Not only this, Naosuke had been active in suppressing and imprisoning many members of the Jōi (‘Expel the Barbarian’) faction and Bakufu reformists. (pg.173)

The death of Naosuke was officially kept secret, yet news of it soon spread throughout Edo, with Naosuke himself being referred to as “the patient without need of a pillow” (Naosuke’s head had been removed by his attackers). On the 30th of the 3rd month, the Bakufu dissolved Naosuke’s position, and one month later finally announced his death. (pg.173)

The ‘Sonnō-Jōi’ (Revere the Emperor and Expel the Barbarian) movement soon spread throughout the country, causing innumerable difficulties for Bakufu authorities in attempting to keep the peace and prevent anti-Bakufu sentiment from gaining a strong hold on the populace. Meanwhile Edo itself fell into a state of unease, with the latent threat of violence between anti and pro Bakufu forces simmering beneath the surface. (pg.173)

(The ‘relatively’ bloodless surrender of Edo castle), 4th year of Keiō, 1868

Members of the Eastern Imperial Army, upon receiving orders to expel by force the 15th Shogun Tokugawa Yoshinobu from his position in Edo Castle, proceeded to surround the castle on the 15th day of the 3rd month of Keiō 4 for the express purpose of launching an attack on the Bakufu forces still holding out there.  One day before the scheduled assault, Army leader Saigō Takamori, together with Imperial faction ally Katsu Kaishū, met with Bakufu officials at Takanawa in Edo, and there discussed and agreed upon the surrender of Edo castle to Imperial forces without resistance. (pg,174)

In the background to this decision lay the negotiations undertaken by the British Consul in residence Townsend Harris to ensure that Edo did not descend into a bloodbath, which in turn would spark revolts and rioting throughout the Kantō region and seriously jeopardize public order.  In the 4th month, Yoshinobu retired from Edo to Mito (modern Ibaraki Prefecture). Some 2,000 or so former Bakufu retainers, calling themselves the Shōgitai, withdrew to Ueno where they proceeded to continue their resistance to Imperial rule. However they eventually found themselves outgunned by the modern weapons wielded by the Imperial army, and were defeated. (pg.174)

(The Great Fire of Meireki), 18th day of the 1st month of the 3rd year of Meireki, 1857

 On the 18th day of the 1st month of Meireki 3, a fire started that Honmyōji temple in Edo, and over the next two days would spread throughout the town, earning the somewhat peculiar name of ‘the sleeve fire’.  According to legend, the sleeves of garments belonging to three daughters, all of whom died when they were 17 years old, were taken to the temple and were to be thrown into a fire there while reciting the Nembutsu sutra in memory of the girls. As soon as this was done, the sleeves, accompanied by a tornado, moulded themselves into pillars of fire resembling the deceased girls, and climbing to a height of 80 shaku (or around 24 metres) proceeded to burn ferociously throughout the town, eventually consuming much of it including the main keep of Edo castle. (pg.175)

The number of deceased were calculated by Asai Ryōi as totaling over 100,000, and on the border between Musashi and Shimōsa provinces a four sided pit was dug that was 108 metres in width. Only one building was erected to the memory of the victims, which was later recorded as serving as a funeral parlour for both provinces. (pg.175)

(The Eruption of Asamayama and the Great Famine of Tenmei), 3rd year of Tenmei, 1783

From the 4th to the 7th month of Tenmei 3 (1783),  Asamayama (located in modern Nagano and Gunma Prefectures) was rocked by a series of loud explosions, thus heralding what would become the largest volcano disaster of the pre-modern Japanese period.  The scale of the eruption can be measured by the modern-day presence of the ‘Oni-oshidashi’ area in Gunma Prefecture (itself made from lava expelled by Asamayama).  The destruction caused by the dislodging of massive quantities of volcanic rock and pyroclastic flows was extensive.  The victims of the disaster numbered over 20,000, and in the Tonegawa and Sumidagawa rivers and its tributaries, bits and pieces of bodies were found floating in the water. (pg.176)

The volcanic ash thrown up by the volcano covered an extensive area that had recently been cultivated, and by blocking out much of the sunlight, this caused a number of failed harvests over the following years. Those provinces lying to the north of the Kantō region were particularly hard hit by bad harvests, thus compounding the tragedy.  In Tsugaru province some 80,000 people starved to death, while in Nambu province the dead numbered 60,000.  It was said that the number of victims in Sendai province was as high as 400,000, and certainly it gave rise to a range of desperate behaviour including cannibalism. (pg.176)

According to a record of the period titled “Toen Shōsetsu” by Takizawa Bakin (written around 1825), a majority of the victims of the famine were peasants and the poor, not samurai, which gives some indication as to where the worst effects of the famine hit. (pg.176)

(The Great Ansei Earthquake), 2nd year of Ansei, 1855

Speaking of earthquakes, recent years have kept these natural disasters foremost in the minds of the residents of Japan, particularly following the Great East Japan Earthquake of 2011. Yet what is truly frightening about these disasters is the fact that while the quake is bad enough on its own, what follows them can be much, much worse. (pg.176)

Such was the case on the 2nd day of the 10th month of the 2nd year of Ansei (1855).  From 10 o’clock in the evening until the following morning, Edo was struck 33 times by earthquakes of varying sizes. These in turn led to fires breaking out throughout the city, until many areas were wrapped in pillars of flame. The “Bukō Nenpyō” recorded the events of the time by stating “Screams and the howling of voices filled the void of night, so much so that listening to it chilled one to the bone and robbed one of any courage”. The famous maxim – “If things start to shake, keep no fire awake” remains as true today as it was back then. (pg.176)

(Taken from Ogi Shinzo, “Zusetsu Ō-Edo, Shireba shiru hodo”, Jitsugyō no Nippon-sha, Tokyo, 2003)

(The Keian Incident, or the Revolt of Yui Shōsetsu)  4th year of Keian, 1651

In the 4th month of the 4th year of Keian (1651), the third Shogun of the Tokugawa Bakufu, Iemitsu, died of illness. His successor, the 11 year old Ietsuna, had only just been appointed to that position when in the 6th month of the same year, Yui Shōsetsu, a military scholar of the Kusunoki school who had opened his own academy in the Kanda district of Edo, conspired with Marubashi Chūya, who himself had opened a school teaching spear techniques at Hōzōin (located near Yui’s academy), and other rōnin (masterless samurai) to overthrow the Bakufu. (pg.166)

Marubashi, together with his supporters, would set fire to a Bakufu saltpeter warehouse at Koishikawa and set about lighting spot fires through the city in an attempt to create a major conflagration. While this was underway, Marubashi would infiltrate Edo castle while pretending to be Tokugawa Yorinobu, the head of the Kii branch of the Tokugawa household (one of the three major branches of that family), and if successful in his deception, would then abduct the young Shogun.   In the meantime Yui Shōsetsu would attack a Bakufu vault located at Kunōzan in Sumpu (Suruga) province. After making off with the million or so ryō (gold or silver ingots) stored there, Yui would head to Sumpu castle and there wait for the arrival of Marubashi with the young Shogun in tow. (pg.167)

This would then provide the impetus for revolts to break out in both Kyoto and Osaka. Some 230,000 rōnin would then assemble, the largest such gathering since the battle of Sekigahara 51 years earlier, and together they would bring about the downfall of the Tokugawa.

However there was an informant in their midst. Marubashi soon found his school surrounded by agents of the Bakufu and was taken prisoner. Meanwhile Yui Shōsetsu, while lodging at the Umeya, a tea house located in Sumpu, was himself also surrounded by Bakufu agents. However he managed to commit suicide before he could be taken prisoner.  In all, around 100 or so people were implicated in the plot, and an even greater number were subject to punishment.  (pg.167)

The Bakufu used this incident as the impetus for the introduction of a system whereby they would acknowledge the adoptees of daimyō and hatamoto (the most trusted of retainer) families in danger of dying out, and thus put an end to the increase in rōnin that would accompany the death of the last heir of a dynasty. (pg.167)

(The crucifixion of Hirai Gonpachi at Suzugamori)   7th year of Enpō, 1679

Hirai Gonpachi was a samurai of Tottori province, and the eldest son of Hirai Shōzaemon.  He was particularly renowned in the province as both a swordsman and jujutsu practitioner. However when he turned 17 he had a falling out with his father and absconded, eventually ending up in Edo.  Gonpachi was attractive, and was quite proficient at the ‘Kaga’ style of singing that was popular at the time.  In time he became a member of the household of a more prominent samurai family, and often visited the pleasure quarters of Yoshiwara. It was during one of these visits that Gonpachi fell head over heels for a Tayū (or high class courtesan) by the name of Ko-murasaki of the Miura establishment (i.e., brothel). Obviously Gonpachi was not a wealthy man, hence in order to raise enough funds to meet with Ko-murasaki he decided to hire himself out as a “hitman” of sorts, carrying out assassinations for money.  It was said that over the seven years that he was active in this role, he was responsible for the deaths of 132 people. (pg.167)

Gonpachi’s luck ran out in the 6th year of Enpō (1678), when he was found guilty of having murdered a silk merchant at Musashino-Kumaya for the sum of 100 ryō.  He was sentenced to die by crucifixion.  Gonpachi was executed in the 11th month of the 7th year of Enpō at Suzugamori, and his remains were later buried in secret at Tōshōji temple located in the Meguro-ward.  After a while, Gonpachi’s grave was visited by a woman of around 21 years of age, where she donated her 5 ryō in wages. She did this a number of times, praying before the grave, before one day committing suicide at the same spot. It was Ko-murasaki of the Miura establishment. (pg.167)

This (tragic?) love story proved very popular among the commoners of old Edo, and it was later depicted in various art forms, including Kabuki theatre and puppetry.  (pg.167)

(The declaration of the ‘Edict Forbidding Cruelties to Living Things’ – Shōrui-awaremi-no-rei), 4th year of Jōkyō, 1687

Tsunayoshi, the fifth Tokugawa Shogun, had no further children after the death of his son Tokumatsu (whom he expected to inherit his position). According to the monk Ryūkō of the Shingon sect, to whom Tsunayoshi’s mother Keishōin was particularly devoted, Tsunayoshi’s lack of heirs was a direct result of his having killed a large number of living beings in a previous life. This message was reiterated time and again to Tsunayoshi by Ryūkō, particularly the fact that many of those life forms had been born during the Year of the Dog. This had a profound impact on Tsunayoshi’s psyche, so much so that he began to take pity on dogs, and would in turn issue an ‘edict forbidding cruelties to living things’.  

The edit stated that all dogs were to be referred to as “My lord dog” (O-inu sama), and a number of kennels were established in the suburbs of Edo where dogs could receive the very best of care. On the other hand, a samurai who shot a sparrow with an arrow in order to use it in medicine for his sick son was executed at Kozukatsubara together with his son, while those who merely witnessed the act were themselves sentenced to exile on Hachijōjima island. (pgs.167-168)

Tsunayoshi was cursed with a paranoid personality, so much so that his retainers, fearing that they might be put to death on a whim, would read as much as they could into his orders, and so exercised all sorts of cruelties on their subordinates. For 24 years, until his death in the 6th year of Eiroku (1709), Tsunayoshi was the source of great hardship to his subjects, and tens of thousands of people were either put to death or otherwise punished during his reign. (pg.168)

(The revenge of the rōnin of Akō province – aka Chūshingura, aka The 47 Rōnin, aka The 47 Loyal Retainers), 15th year of Genroku, 1702

In the early hours of the 15th day of the 12th month of 15th year of Genroku (1702), 47 rōnin retainers from Akō province (now part of Hyōgō prefecture) fought their way to the centre of the principle Edo residence of Kira Kōzuke no Suke Yoshinaka. After two hours of fighting Kira’s own retainers and searching high and low, they eventually found Yoshinaka, and cut off his head. (pg.168)

The spark that ignited passions to such an extent that it would result in Yoshinaka’s death occurred during the 3rd month of the previous year.  The lord of Akō province, Asano Naganori, was visiting Edo in order to pay his annual respects and partake in rituals associated with his position as an imperial messenger.  However, it was while he was resident in Edo castle that he fell into an argument with Yoshinaka, himself a highly placed official of the Bakufu, and confronting Yoshinaka in the Matsu no Rōka hallway, drew his short sword and wounded Yoshinaka.  (pg.168)

Drawing weapons without permission within Edo castle was strictly forbidden, hence Naganori soon found himself ordered to commit ritual suicide (seppuku) on the day after the incident with Yoshinaka. The name and property of the Asano family of Akō was thereafter confiscated, and disappeared from Edo altogether.

However, one of the Asano’s principle retainers, Ōishi Kuranosuke Yoshio, together with others from Akō province spent a year and nine months undergoing various hardships as all rōnin did following the death or disbandment of their lord and his household. They also practiced theatre and puppetry during their time in exile, all this while secretly planning to take revenge against Yoshinaka for causing the death of their lord. The people of Edo, seeking to find some outlet for the distaste they felt for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s reign, upheld the rōnin of Akō as the pinnacle of the ideal of the “loyal retainer”, whose act of assassination was justified and, in time, glorified by the common folk. (pgs.168-169)

(The Ejima – Ikushima Incident), 4th year of Shōtoku, 1714

In the 1st month of the 4th year of Shōtoku (1714), a retainer of the mother of the seventh Tokugawa Shogun, Ietsugu, who went by the name of Ejima of the Ō-oku (aka the ‘Great Interior’, basically the female quarters within Edo castle), was assigned as keeper of the mausoleum to Shogun Ienobu at Sōjōji.  While on the way there, Ejima stopped at the Yamamura theatre located in the town of Kobiki, where she booked out the entire top floor of the theatre in order to watch plays. Ejima soon imbibed the hospitality of Ikushima Shingorō, a Kabuki actor who would keep guests happy in between performances as an employee of the theatre.  Ejima enjoyed Ikushima’s company so much that she eventually arrived back at Edo castle far later than originally scheduled. (pg.169)

While going to watch theatre while engaged on official duty was a violation of the “Regulations for the Great Interior”, it was often silently permitted.  However the continuing disruptions to the discipline of the Ō-oku, the continuing feud between the legal spouse of Ienobu, Teieiin, and his concubine Gekkōin, and the frequent meddling by members of the Ō-oku in the affairs of state with their demands for relatives or favours from merchants irked the Bakufu’s senior retainer Ii Naomori and others so much that they decided to use Ejima’s transgression as an opportunity to clamp down on the Ō-oku’s activities. (pg.170)

While Ejima bore many responsibilities, she was found guilty of having spent too long in the company of actors at the theatre and sentenced to death. This penalty was later lessened to that of exile on Hachijōjima. The intervention of Gekkōin eventually saw Ejima exiled to Takatōri in Shinano province.  For his part, Shingorō was exiled to Mitakujima, while the Yamamura theatre was abolished. Ejima’s elder brother, the hatamoto retainer Hirai Heiueimon, was executed by beheading. Next to 70 women of the Ō-oku were banished from the castle, while another 150 were assigned to assist the medical officials of the Ō-oku and clothes merchants of the Bakufu’s capital. (pg.170)

Fujiki Hisashi, “The commoner’s battlefield: raising troops and capturing slaves during the medieval period”, Asahi Shimbun, Reprint 15 March 2007
 
(My reasons for choosing this particular book for translation are fairly straightforward. The subject matter expressed by Professor Fujiki is extremely interesting, given that it dealt with the lot of common soldiers (who were by and large peasants drafted into serving their local lord, with some exceptions) and the reality of living in a world where the threat of violence was never far away.  Another fascinating point is that it examines the practice of capturing and selling slaves, something that was highly prevalent during the era of the warring states in Japan but is not a subject examined in most popular media that depicts that period in Japan’s history.  Presumably the idea of Japanese selling other Japanese into slavery is abhorrent to modern Japanese sensibilities, yet the practice was common, and really only petered out once the country began to be subject to more stable, centralised rule from the early seventeenth century onwards.  
 
It’s this phenomena that Professor Fujiki illustrates in detail, in a manner accessible to most Japanese readers (itself a welcome development in a field that tends to be dominated by archaic discussions about the certain use of words in historical documents.  Of great interest to the academic, but of little to no consequence to the general reader).  By undertaking this translation, I hope that I might too be able to bring a bit more of this period of Japan’s history to the attention of a broader audience, and spark some curiosity among those for whom the era of the warring states (Sengoku Jidai) remains a mystery). (Note: the numbers at the end of paragraphs refer to pages of the original text). 
 
Prologue
 
“Plunder, before armies were nationalised, lay at the very heart of the formation of an army and its existence, with merchants serving as intermediaries”, Yamauchi Susumu, “A History of the Legal Concept of Plunder”
 
Fighting in order to eat
 
“We wage war in order to seize the wealth of the land, towns, and villages.  The campaigns that take place in Japan are mostly concerned with seizing wheat, rice and barley.”
 
This comparison of causus belliwas made by the Portuguese missionary Luis Frois (1532 – 1597), who bore witness to many battles that took place in Japan towards the end of the era of the warring states.  For Frois, the wars that took place in Europe during the Middle Ages occurred in order to expand territory, whereas in Japan they occurred in order that people might eat. (2) 
 
“War to expand territory” or “war in order to eat” – a comparison of both of these phenomena is undoubtedly fascinating, but it also presents problems. (3) At the same time that Frois was making these comments, Toyotomi Hideyoshi was calling for a halt to all private conflict throughout the island of Kyushu, using phrases such as “territorial border disputes between provincial rulers are to cease” and “I personally shall be the judge of any disagreements over the division of territory in Kyushu”.  In other words, Hideyoshi, who himself had stood at the centre of conflict during the era of the warring states, was a product of both the Japanese way of war and of the seizure of territory. (4)
 
However what I would like to pay particular attention to is the fact that from his arrival at Yokosenoura bay in Nagasaki in the seventh month of the sixth year of Eiroku (1563) until his death at Nagasaki in the fifth month of Keicho 2 (1597), Luis Frois spent over 30 years living both in Kyushu and in the Kinai area of Japan. His record of that time was written right in the middle of the era of the warring states, as a so-called “true depiction of war”.  The escalation in conflict that he witnessed was, to his mind, undoubtedly “war in order to eat” or “war in order to live”.  Hence I have taken this to mean that for Frois, “war in order to eat” and “war in order to live” involved a fight to the death. (4)
 
Frois said the following in relation to “war in order to eat” that he saw on a daily basis throughout Kyushu;
 
“The people captured in Bungo(province) by the army of Satsuma(Shimazu) were then taken to the province of Higo and sold off.  In that year, the residents of Higo suffered a terrible famine and much hardship, and so fell into a state where they were unable to fend for themselves. Since there was no way they would be able to care for the captives(from Bungo), they took them to ‘Takaku’(Takaki, located on the Shimabara peninsula) where the captives were sold off, much like they were selling off a family heirloom.” (4)
 
Frois then continued. The fate of those taken by the Shimazu army was that they either ended up as prisoners of war, died from the effects of war and illness, or wasted away from starvation. Both sides engaged in killing and plundering one another.  Those who had been taken as prisoners of war by the Shimazu army “after being taken back to Satsuma and Higo, led around to various markets like a herd of sheep, where they were sold.  Many of those taken were sold off for cheap prices of one or two “toston” (or bun, a small amount of money)”.  (5)
 
All 12 volumes of Frois’ “History of Japan” are replete with continuous conflict and the buying and selling of both people and goods seized through violence, all set against a backdrop of unremitting starvation. (5)  Frois’ opinion of war was very much founded on the raw experience and observations that he made of the battlefield, particularly those in Kyushu. (5)
 
This “true depiction of war” lay at the bottom of many of the more familiar, more colourful studies of warring state era armies and tales of battle. It speaks of the reality of fighting for the many foot soldiers (or ‘militia’) who faced starvation, and so fought either in order to live or in order to be able to eat. It also reverses many of the conceptions that we might have about warfare of that period.  Hence it is my intention here to overturn the depiction of war in the Sengoku era from one of “battles between heroes” to that of “battles between commoners”, and so depict the society of the era of the warring states from the ground up.  (5)
 
‘Militia/foot soldiers’ usually refers to “lowly ranked soldiers”.  The armies of warlords of the era of the warring states might have had one hundred soldiers in them, however only 10 or so of those soldiers might be mounted on horses.  The other 90 would be placed into one of three different categories. 1) Officially sanctioned warriors, who went by the name of kasemonoor wakatoor ashigaru– samurai, in other words, who fought together with their lord. 2) Those of lower rank, known as either chugenor komonoor arashiko, who acted as aides to their lord on the battlefield, handling horses or carrying their lord’s spear – in other words, genin(trans.note = literally “lower people”). 3) Those known as either buor bumaru, “peasants” in other words, who had been drafted in from villages to serve as porters, transporting goods etc.  (5)
 
Those wakatoand ashigaruincluded under item 1) were the main military force permitted to engage in fighting on the battlefield. Those included under item 2) and 3) were ostensibly excused from participating in the fighting because of their rank (or kenzen, the gap between samurai and those of lower ranks). However in the heat of battle, such distinctions were often ignored.  It is my intention to shed some light on these soldiers, which I refer to as zohyobut were otherwise known as wakatoor komonoor fujin, along with many other merchants, bandits, and pirates whose characteristics are unknown but who also appeared on the battlefield. (6)
 
It is particularly challenging to tell the story of the most commonly known battles from a different point of view to the ‘heroes’ of such tales, however my main purpose in writing “the commoner’s battlefield” is as follows;
 
I. A world in chaos
 
The annual records that Luis Frois wrote as part of his public duties for the Society of Jesus have proven useful to the study of Japan’s history, yet Frois himself was described by one of his superiors as “prone to boastfulness and idle gossip”.  This then beggars the question whether or not the “true depiction of war” that Frois wrote was based on fact?
 
First, let us take a look at the battlefields of the era of the warring states, to those conflicts that lasted over a century, starting with the battlefields of Kyushu that Frois himself witnessed. What actually took place in a “war in order to eat”? We must try to venture into the cruel centre of conflict to determine what is otherwise commonly referred to as “a world beset by chaos”. (6)
 
At the end of the Middle Ages period, following the peace imposed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (and unification of the nation), the battlefields of Japan fell silent. Thereafter an army numbering some one hundred and fifty thousand arrived in force on the battlefields of the Korean peninsula. When examining “war in order to eat”, one must not ignore this state of affairs either.
 
When these invasion battlefields too finally fell silent, the final battles to determine the ruler of Japan were contested at Sekigahara and Osaka.  So what actually happened during such conflict? (6,7)
 
II. The common soldier
 
The commoners that served as soldiers on these battlefields played the main role in this “world of chaos”. So from where did they come?  The world of the era of the warring states was beset by poor harvests and famine.  For the commoner, try as he might to plow his fields yet still face starvation, the only option was to join a group of militia and head off to the battlefield. Once there, he might seize a little food, or property, or even a man or woman. With this meagre asset in hand, he might be able to survive the winter.   For common soldiers, the battlefield in the period between winter and the following summer, in which starvation was rampant, was the only miserable available means of support. (7)
 
Those left behind in the villages, say two or three other youths who couldn’t find enough to eat, would be joined by vagabonds, bandits, buccaneers and merchants. The chaos that battle spread – or rather the violence and plunder that accompanied it - appears to have occurred as a consequence of “war in order to eat”. (7)
 
III. The village battlefield – the village as a castle
 
On the other hand, in the wars that were part of the “world of chaos”, both villages and towns found conflict an important test of the extent to which they were willing to defend their property. The more traditional symbols of power in the regions, the castles of a lord or landowner, became evacuation centres for the people at some time in their history. Yet for villages located far from a castle, a mountain that they knew nearby might contain huts or a mountain castle that could serve as their own evacuation centre.   Villages located on the border between provinces would pay tribute to both sides and maintain their neutrality, or else they would pay a large amount of gold to the invading army and thus guarantee their safety.  Villagers would also arm themselves, and if they found anyone from a defeated army trying to retreat, they would descend from the village and attack them to steal their remaining goods. (7)
 
In order to protect themselves from the fires of war, both towns and villages adopted a number of self-defence measures during the era of the warring states.  
 
IV. From the battlefields to the cities – the wanderings of common soldiers
 
People of the era of the warring states announced their resolution to forego the world of chaos through their acceptance of “Hideyoshi’s peace”, which brought an end to conflict throughout the land.  For common soldiers, who made their living off of the spoils of battle and who without it would face starvation, they could either head overseas to participate in the invasion of the Korean peninsula or they could make their way to large scale castle construction projects or numerous “gold rushes”. These ‘projects’ provided new avenues of revenue for common soldiers, and they flocked to join them. The spirit of the age of “Hideyoshi’s peace” can be seen in the impetus to shift from the battlefield (the medieval world) to the city (the early modern world). (8) These large scale public projects, they be battles, or castles, or gold mines, acted as a kind of “survival system” amidst the continuous bad harvests and famines of the age. (8)
 
 
 
Epilogue
 
For those people taken as prisoners and sold over and over again, and for common soldiers who lost their means of livelihood, where did they eventually end up? Frois does not address this in his writing, yet evidence exists of many powerful ships from around the world, starting with the Portuguese and Japanese pirates operating in league with them, loading up many prisoners of war and common soldiers at many ports throughout Kyushu and taking them to battlefields in Southeast Asia. It is in investigating this phenomenon that I wish to conclude my study into the “commoner’s battlefield”. 
 
What drew me to such a title as “the commoner’s battlefield” was my discovery of the hugely influential work by Yamauchi Susumu, titled “A history of the laws and attitudes towards plunder and abduction”.  In Europe of the Middle Ages, the abduction of people from the battlefield, set against a stubborn continuation of famines, was closely entwined to the creation of an army as far as common soldiers and merchants were concerned. Another lesson came from Hiraki Shosuke (an expert on German medieval history).  The Frankish peasantry found that since their level of production was nowhere near adequate to feed themselves and they were not really suited to merely be farmers. So they became warriors in order to eat, and headed for the battlefield to seek fame and glory.  For them, war became a basis for everyday life, an important supplement in their calculations and an economic act of convenience. (8-9) 
 
Yet the agrarian revolution of the middle ages dramatically increased the levels of production among the peasantry, and thus it became possible for peasants to produce enough for themselves to eat. They became ‘professional’ agrarian workers, no longer reliant on fighting for a livelihood, which brought about a clear distinction between themselves and professional soldiers.  It’s this aspect to “the commoner’s battlefield” in particular that caught my eye. (9) 
 
This “reverse” explanation of the division of soldiers and peasants by Hiraki came as a shock to me. Until I read this, I had always looked at the issue of when warriors of the era of the warring states chose to become warriors from the point of view of “the creation of a professional warrior class”.  However Professor Hiraki’s thesis asked when peasants chose to remain peasants (without relying on warfare), thus looking at things from the point of view of the creation of a “professional agrarian class”.  It was the complete opposite of commonly held views on the division of peasant and warrior. (9) 
 
The works of early modern Japanese historian Takagi Shosaku also highlighted the fact that the plunder and abduction of people and goods on the battlefield were regarded as legitimate activities, with the main perpetrators of these acts being “samurai, chugen, komono, or arashiko”; in other words the common soldier. (9-10)   Using words that associated ‘samurai’ with soldiers of lower social rank indicated that they were not regarded as warriors, and that fact itself expanded my views on what constituted a common soldier. (10) I also learned a lot from the works of Asao Naohiro and his explanation of the late sixteenth century as the “high point of the social climbers”. (10)
 
A longstanding scholar of folk history and pursuer of studies into the traditions of plunder, Chiba Tokuji, also revealed the ‘origins of conflict’ lay in fighting between people and beasts, and thus revealed the true nature of warfare in Japan from the depths of folk belief.  This also influenced my thinking on warfare in a range of different ways. (10)
 
I should add that a majority of Japanese scholars of the era of the warring states (myself included) are well aware of the cruelties that war creates.  Recent studies by Kobayashi Seiji, which has raised many questions among scholars of the field, have admirably broken new ground on this front and I myself have been influenced by them. However, a good many scholars up until now (again, myself included), when reading of the plunder of people and goods from the battlefield, are influenced by (modern) practices of taking prisoners of war and accounting for them, and thus ascribe to the plunder of women and children and the seizure of goods the moniker of ‘crimes’. We also refer to the seizure of crops and burning of villages in the era of warring states as “harvesting” and “burning”, thus attempting to downplay the tactics adopted by warlords at the time. We only pay attention to acts meant to preserve the security of villages without examining what it was like for villages caught up in the cruelties of war.  While we might debate human trafficking, we see no problem in the taking of slaves from the battlefield. (10)
 
There are many records stating that the people were always the victims of war. Yet such works suffer from a lack of urgency compared to actual specific examples from history. They regard the people as little more than poor unfortunates. I myself am guilty of making this mistake, and I deeply regret it. (10) 
 
Until the beginning of the 21stcentury, for almost half a century Japan has known peace and has had ample food supplies.  While we are currently bathed in such joyful hues, we forget about the starvation and war that has affected many others abroad, and regard the so-called “era of war and famine” that was Japan during the Middle Ages as a period without rhyme nor reason nor any semblance of peace. As a result, when we come to read works about the war and famine in Japan in the Middle Ages, we have virtually no frame of reference from which to draw.  My thoughts on this have become even stronger since witnessing the changes in the environment going on around us. (10-11)
 
About twenty years ago I wrote a thesis which questioned the meaning of the large scale social changes that occurred at the end of the sixteenth century, otherwise known as the “unification of the nation (or the transition from war to peace)”, and that “Hideyoshi’s peace” contained within it a meaning of escaping from the cruelties of a society forced to defend and protect itself. Yet despite attempting to focus on aspects of society of the era of the warring states, I realize that I wasn’t able to shed light on anything about either the cruelties of a society at war or the realization of a life of peace. (11)
 
So gradually I began to examine things from the point of view of the common soldier rather than the “hero”, and was able to slowly enjoy immersing myself in the “social history of war and peace”.  The results of all of this detective work are contained in this work that I have titled “The commoner’s battlefield”. (11)    
 
I     A world in chaos
I.  The battlefields of the era of the warring states
 
The Shimazu army captures prisoners on the battlefield
 
First, let’s begin by paying a visit to the battlefields of Kyushu that Frois would have seen and which he described in his “History of Japan”.  Are we in fact certain that his descriptions of “war in order to eat” and “war aimed at plunder” were correct? What can we find to back up such assertions? (14-15)
 
One of the leading players on the battlefields of Kyushu at the end of the sixteenth century was the Shimazu clan of Satsuma.  The army of the Shimazu had made its way relentlessly northward, so much so that by Tensho 14 (1586) one could call the Shimazu the “absolute rulers of five provinces” of Kyushu. They continued to press the Otomo clan, the sole remaining ruler of Bungo province, and had almost completed their conquest of the entire island. As part of the central cog in this army, Shimazu retainer Uwai Kakuken had led troops north and very soon entered the province of Higo. Taking in the scenery around him, Uwai noted down what he witnessed in his diary. (15)
 
According to the diary’s editor, Uwai wrote that “The wounded returned (to Satsuma), along with the women and children captured along the way, so much so that they clogged up the roads.” Hence the roads leading back to Satsuma were filled with wounded soldiers belonging to the Shimazu army, along with some tens or so women and children captured as spoils of war.  The line of people that Kakuken saw were a group belonging to the Otomo and taken as plunder on the battlefields in the north, and were being led back to captivity in Shimazu held territory in the south.  This description perfectly backs up what Frois wrote in his own record. (16)
 
Moreover, four years earlier, at the end of Tensho 10 (1582), when moving to aid the Arima clan, Kakuken wrote a report on the siege of the castle of Chijiwa held by the Ryuzoji clan, where he noted that “two or three hundred of the enemy had been captured”, “countless people were captured”, and “there was an excess of captured people”. (16)
 
Frois wrote the same thing about the activities of the Shimazu clan at that time.  According to Frois’ record “They killed a large number of enemy soldiers, or took them prisoner. They devastated that land and plundered it.  However the commanders and soldiers who observed matters from their mountain camp strongly desired to take their spoils and return home. Unable to wait an extra day to complete their destruction of the enemy, they abandoned the castle of Saiga (that had been captured) and withdrew without meeting their objective.” (16)
 
There are no contradictions between Frois’ and Kakuken’s records.  Amid the soldiers of the Shimazu army, there were some who had no interest in meeting that day’s objective (of capturing Chijiwa castle) and wanted “return home as early as possible with their spoils” and that there were “commanders and soldiers” whose only interest was plunder, which means that the army clearly included organised groups of plunderers.  The line of people that Kakuken had met on the road were most certainly taken by those same plunderers. (16)
​
The reports, diaries, and military tales of the Shimazu are replete with many examples of the Shimazu army capturing people or livestock or else devastating crops.  I’ll quote here from three diaries whose records only describe the capture of people.
 
(The diary of Hongo Tadasuke)
 
(1st Month of Tenbun 15 – 1546). 50 or more people killed, and countless men, women, cattle and horses taken.
(4th Month of Tenbun 18 – 1549) 236 heads taken, and many captured. 
 
(The diary of the Yamamoto of Gamou)
 
(8th Month of the 1st year of Kouji – 1551) Three enemy killed, and one other captured.
(10th Month of the 1st year of Kouji) Two enemy killed, in addition to 15 or 16 children and one adult being captured.
(3rd Month of Kouji 2 – 1552) 7 ashigaru went out and captured around 4 commoners.
(2nd Month of Kouji 3 – 1553) Chased after 10 or so enemy, and after a while captured 3 of them.
(3rd Month of Kouji 3) Took one adult captive at the base of Kitamura. (17)
 
(Diary of Hongo Tokihisa)
 
(5th Month of the 8th year of Eiroku – 1565) 28 killed, 40 captured, 700 items seized.
(4th Month of the 9th year of Eiroku) Fighting between boats, the Ito group killed 29, took 9 alive, over 63 killed in total, 5 boats seized.
(5th Month of the 12th year of Eiroku) 107 heads taken, of which only 1 taken alive, 5 generals killed, for a total of 170 killed.
(Same month) Departed Shonai, 3 people abducted.
(4th Month of the 3rd year of Genki – 1572) Villages were destroyed, and many horses and people were taken.
(9th Month of the same year) A castle was captured, 3 of the Ijichi family were killed, along with over 70 others, countless numbers of people seized.
(1st Month of the 2nd year of Tensho – 1574) 60 killed, and over 400 taken by skilled retainers.
 
Amid these records of the military exploits of the Shimazu army, one thing that particular stands out are the numerous references to “taking people” or “capturing people alive”. As seen from the examples of “3 enemies killed, and 1 taken alive”, taking prisoners on the battlefield (as opposed to killing them) appears to refer to the capture of enemy soldiers. However the plunder of countless numbers of men and women, as evidenced by the references to “countless numbers of men, women, cattle and horses were taken” and “over 400 people taken (by skilled retainers)”, in addition to those records stating “1 child taken” and “3 people abducted” makes it unlikely that they were taken as prisoners of war. When we see records that state “the lower classes took one captive” and “7 ashigaru went out and captured around 4 commoners”, this indicates that the main perpetrators of taking prisoners on the battlefield, as well as those who fell victim to such practices, were lower order soldiers or their affiliates.(18)

The battlefields of southern Higo province 
 
Even in the territory of a minor daimyo like the Sagara clan in southern Higo, the taking of people went unabated.  The annual record of the Sagara, known as the “Yatsushiro Diary”, speaks of this.  
 
(3rdmonth of the 9thyear of Tenbun – 1540) Over a thousand of the enemy killed, and up to 2000 taken prisoner.
(10thmonth of the 16thyear of Tenbun) A soldier by the name of Yo Shichihyoe carried out a night attack and took one enemy captive. 3 days later he captured two retainers from Izumi. (19)
 
(10th month of the 19th year of Tenbun) Broke through defences, killed 4, captured 11 alive, and took numerous cows and horses.
(9th month of the 2nd year of Kouji – 1556) Broke through the defence of Takado Daido, killed 6, took 20 captive.
(11th month of the 2nd year of Kouji) 5 killed, 53 taken captive, cattle and horses taken.
(11th month of the 3rd year of Kouji) From Inekari to Fusekusa, 2 killed, 2 captured.
(3rd month of the 2nd year of Eiroku – 1559) In sumover 20 men and women killed, and 38 or so captured. 
(9th month of the 2nd year of Eiroku) At Fusekusa, headed down to the sands near the sea, 3 killed, 8 taken captive. 
(Lunar 3rd month of the 4th year of Eiroku) A night attack carried out from Ikeura and Sashiki, 1 killed, 2 captured. 
(12th month of the 7th year of Eiroku) Some underlings, while out gathering firewood, took 7 persons captive. (19)