The Diary of Tamura Yoshikazu: Writing under the Gaze of the Kokutai during the Japanese Imperial Army New Guinea Campaign by Victoria Eaves‐Young B.A (Asian Studies) M. Asian Studies A Thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Japanese) The School of Asian Languages and Studies Department of Japanese Faculty of Arts The University of Tasmania, Australia August, 2011 Declaration of Originality I hereby certify that the work embodied in this thesis is the result of original research and has not been submitted for a higher degree to any other university or institution. Signed ……………………………………….. Authority of Access This thesis may be made available for loan and limited copying in accordance with the Copyright Act 1968. Signed ……………………………………….. Statement of Ethical Conduct The research associated with this thesis abides by the international and Australian codes on human and animal experimentation, the guidelines by the Australian Government’s Office of the Gene Technology Regulator and the rulings of the Safety, Ethics and Institutional Biosafety Committees of the University. Signed………………………………………..
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Dedication In memory of Herbert Cooper, (my grandfather), and the diarist, Tamura Yoshikazu. I dedicate this thesis to these two rural soldiers, who, despatched to horrendous battlefield conditions in two very different conflicts, and at two very different times, dedicated themselves to a cause in which they believed. ii
Acknowledgements I give sincere thanks to my supervisor, Dr Barbara Hartley, whose expert advice, unflagging guidance and, above all, profound insight, have taught me dedication to scrupulous research and scholarly writing, which have enabled this thesis to reach completion. My journey began under the guidance of Dr Maria Flutsch, whose unfailing patience, meticulous attention to detail and genuine personal touch never failed to inspire. Facilitating the progress of the work were Mayumi Shinozaki at the National Library of Australia, Keiko Tamura at the Australian War Memorial, and Machiko Ishikawa at the University of Tasmania. Much appreciated guidance has also been forthcoming from Dr Carol Hayes and Shun Ikeda at the Australian National University, and Yoji Hashimoto at the University of Tasmania. Encouragement has been so freely offered by Dr Michael Peterkin of the ACT. Many thanks also to John and Danny Williams for their generous hospitality and friendship. This long and at times emotionally taxing project has been made so much easier by the love of my family. I applaud my wonderful husband, Geoffrey, who has continued to support and assist me and, more importantly, believe in me. Thanks go to my children, Issabel, Georgia, Zachary and Kyle, grandchildren Amelie, Luke and Maxwell, and my encouraging parents, Arthur and Shirley Cooper, who have all been patiently waiting in the wings of my life as the writing of this thesis, year after year, took centre stage. Finally, the journey has reached its destination. I offer this work to the memory of Tamura Yoshikazu, and to all who have graced and touched my life. Hito wa chitte mo, na wo nokosu. iii
Table of Contents Declaration of Originality and Authority of Access…………………………………………………….i Dedication .................................................................................................................. ii Acknowledgements ................................................................................................... iii Table of Contents....................................................................................................... iv Abstract................................................................................................................... viii Glossary of Terms ...................................................................................................... ix Introduction ............................................................................................................... 1 Tamura’s Diary and Diary Writing in Japan ............................................................... 7 The Wider Practice of Diary Writing in the Japanese Military .................................. 9 Chapter Overview.................................................................................................... 11 The Emperor, Death, and Yamato Damashii........................................................... 21 Nature...................................................................................................................... 26 Relinquishing the self .............................................................................................. 28 Relevant Scholarship ............................................................................................... 31 Notes on Conventions ............................................................................................. 36 Chapter One: An Extraordinary Diary of an Ordinary Soldier .................................... 39 Introduction ............................................................................................................. 39 Who Was Tamura Yoshikazu? .................................................................................. 40 Before New Guinea.................................................................................................. 44 A Soldier’s Journey................................................................................................... 46 Becoming the Emperor’s Soldier ............................................................................. 53 The Campaign in the South So Far........................................................................... 55 The Diary.................................................................................................................. 58 How Does Tamura Write? ........................................................................................ 61 For Whom Does Tamura Write? ............................................................................. 63 The Influence of the Kokutai Gaze.......................................................................... 71 What Does Tamura Write?...................................................................................... 75 Why Does Tamura Write? ........................................................................................ 78 Chapter Two: Kokutai, Death and a Sense of Country for Soldiers ............................ 94 Introduction ............................................................................................................ 94 The emergence of the kokutai – the re‐creation of ancient myth .......................... 97 The Motif of the Emperor as a Symbol of Sacrifice ................................................. 98 Japan as the Sublime ............................................................................................. 100 Man’s Greatest Calling: The Dark Side of Yamato Damashii ................................. 105 iv
Disseminating Kokutai ideology............................................................................ 109 Conscripting the Emperor’s Armed Forces ............................................................ 110 The Kokutai as Dysfunctional Military Family....................................................... 116 Creating (Tragic) Heroes......................................................................................... 123 Ego Involvement: Reward for Loyalty .................................................................... 132 From Ritualism to Unconditional Conformism ..................................................... 135 Priming the Kokutai for War: The Kokutai no Hongi............................................. 138 Educating in the Kokutai ....................................................................................... 146 War and the Kokutai .............................................................................................. 152 Wholesale acceptance? ........................................................................................ 155 Ensuring Soldiers’ Compliance: The Senjinkun (Instructions for the Battlefield) .. 157 Chapter Three: Out of Country .............................................................................. 161 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 161 Out of Landscape.................................................................................................. 163 The Landscape of Deprivation .............................................................................. 171 A Hell‐hole of a Place............................................................................................. 177 The Jungle as Physically Perverse.......................................................................... 181 The Jungle as Disorder........................................................................................... 184 The Ennui of Endless Rain..................................................................................... 186 The Spectre of Starvation ...................................................................................... 193 Disease, Illness and Utter Fatigue ......................................................................... 204 Submitting to Power............................................................................................. 209 Communication Breakdown .................................................................................. 216 Chapter Four: Creating an Idealized World ............................................................. 223 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 223 Letters as Solace ................................................................................................... 226 Letters as Comfort ................................................................................................ 241 Media..................................................................................................................... 251 Journey through the Past ..................................................................................... 256 Travel in the Homeland ........................................................................................ 258 Journey across the Continent.................................................................................270 Chapter Five: Re‐visioning a Familiar Landscape.................................................... 283 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 283 Nature: Controller or Controlled .......................................................................... 284 Re‐creating an Emotionally Accommodating Landscape ...................................... 287 Autumn as a Seasonal Anchor .............................................................................. 293 v
Re‐imaging Remembered Landscape ................................................................... 296 Mountains as Redemption ................................................................................... 305 The Moon as Traveller.......................................................................................... 312 The Sky and the Moon as Surreal Landscape ....................................................... 322 Chapter Six: Death as Man’s True Calling............................................................... 336 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 336 Submitting to taigi – The Great Obligation to Die................................................ 338 The Already Dead ................................................................................................. 353 Self Motivating To Death...................................................................................... 358 The Ocean as Facilitator to a Noble Death........................................................... 361 Motifs of Death...................................................................................................... 375 Chapter Seven: Challenges to a Resolve to Die ....................................................... 382 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 382 Relinquishing a Sense of Self ‐ jibun ga nai .......................................................... 383 The Useless Rhetoric of the Emancipation of Asia............................................... 390 The Tedium, the Terror and the Lowly Role......................................................... 395 Death as Ignoble Reality ....................................................................................... 412 A Life Flawed......................................................................................................... 428 Chapter Eight: Reconciling Death........................................................................... 441 Introduction.......................................................................................................... 441 The Final Inhuman Effort to Become a Man without a Me.................................. 441 Returning to the Main Focus: The Final Effacement of Self................................. 455 The Struggle to Live Well: Embracing the Shadow of Death................................ 458 Under the Spirit of Yamato damashii................................................................... 464 Accepting Death: The Final Act of Loyalty............................................................. 466 Conclusion............................................................................................................. 475 Bibliography References and Figures ..................................................................... 489 Bibliography ............................................................................................................. 489 Supplementary Bibliography..................................................................................... 502 AWM Bulletins ....................................................................................................... 502 AWM Current Translations .................................................................................... 502 AWM Enemy Publications..................................................................................... 503 AWM Interrogation Reports ................................................................................. 503 AWM Research Reports ........................................................................................ 504 CICSPF ................................................................................................................... 504 Far Eastern Liaison Office (FELO) Land Headquarters (AWM 94) ......................... 504 vi
Web Sites .............................................................................................................. 504 Figures References................................................................................................ 505 Figures Table
Figure 1. Photo taken of framed photograph of Tamura Yoshikazu in the family altar in Oyama, March 2009…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….40 Figure 2. Map of Tochigi Prefecture Removed due to copyright ............................................... 40 Figure 3. Map of Japan Removed due to copyright.................................................................... 41 Figure 4. View from the original Tamura family home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture. Photo taken March 2009 ................................................................................................................................. 42 Figure 5. The original Tamura home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture............................................. 42 Figure 6. The family Buddhist altar in the original Tamura home. Photographed March 2009.. 45 Figure 7. Tamura Sadanobu and daughter with the original diary. Photographed March 2009. 46 Figure 8. Map of Japan, Korea and China highlighting the areas mentioned in Tamura’s diary Removed due to copyright .......................................................................................................... 50 Figure 9. Page one of Tamura’s diary .......................................................................................... 51 Figure 10. An example of a Japanese Army Issue Diary ............................................................ 58 Figure 11. Map of New Guinea highlighting the areas in which Tamura’s regiment was deployed Removed due to copyright ......................................................................................................... 59 Figure 12. Inabayama no tsuki .................................................................................................. 288 vii
Abstract The purpose of this thesis is to investigate the influence of the social context of imperial Japan on the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu, a member of the Japanese Imperial Army stationed in New Guinea from January 1943 until his presumed death at the end of the same year. As one of the few remaining original diaries from the New Guinea theatre of the Pacific War, this material offers a unique opportunity to analyse the processes by which an ordinary foot soldier of Imperial Japan interpreted the extreme tropical war zone circumstances to which he was despatched. The thesis begins with a discussion of the discursive environment in which Tamura’s diary was produced, referred to throughout the document as “kokutai discourse” in acknowledgement of the influence of the notion of kokutai – literally “body of the nation” but generally translated as “national polity” – on the socio‐political and cultural environment of pre‐war Japan. A major tension that drives the narrative of the diary is the conflict between Tamura’s desire as a subject of Imperial Japan to follow kokutai teachings and lay down his life in the name of the Emperor and the contradictory desire to express a personal sense of self. In resolving this tension, Tamura often referenced the seasonal markers and the familiar natural imagery of the homeland, Japan, as a means of remaining grounded in the alien surrounds of the tropics. Memories of more favourable experiences as a soldier enabled Tamura to fantasise about a noble and glorious death. viii
Glossary of Terms Abbreviations for sources held at the Australian War Memorial (Canberra, ACT) ATIS Allied Translator and Interpreter Section, South West Pacific Area AWM Australian War Memorial (ACT) CT Current Translation Bull. Bulletin EP Enemy Publication IR Interrogation Report RR Research Report Ser. Serial CICSPF Pacific Fleet Translations, Combat Intelligence Centre, South Pacific Force FELO Far Eastern Liaison Office SEATIC South‐East Asia Translation and Interrogation Centre SOPAC South Pacific Force and Headquarters of the Commander SWPA South West Pacific Area ix
Introduction This thesis presents a close reading of the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu, a member of the Imperial Japanese Army Infantry Regiment (Tōto 36 Unit) of the 41st Division, stationed in New Guinea from January 1943 until his presumed death at the end of the same year. 1 Particular emphasis will be given to investigating the way in which the social context of Imperial Japan impacts on the contents of the diary. In contrast to some previous scholarship that seeks to identify the manner in which Imperial Army enlisted men and conscripts resisted and subverted the dominant ideology of Imperial Japan, this analysis will identify and elaborate upon those aspects of the State discourse which assisted the infantryman diary writer, Tamura Yoshikazu, to remain committed to his role as a member of the Imperial Japanese Army. Tamura’s diary will be read through the framework of the “kokutai”– literally “body of the nation,” but generally translated as “national polity” – discourse which constituted the dominant socio‐political and cultural environment of pre‐war and war‐time Japan. While the diarist consistently adheres to the teachings of this discourse, which was characterised by an unconditional requirement of death in the name of the 1
The last entry of Tamura’s diary is 8th December 1943. 1
Emperor, a contradictory feature within some entries is an ego‐centric desire for self‐
achievement. Reconciling these conflicting aspects enables the diarist to embrace the role of the loyal servant expected of him. The kokutai discourse was an amorphous and all‐encompassing presence in the socio/political environment of Imperial Japan, and scholarly debate still continues over the precise meaning of the term. 2 Providing a definition for this very slippery concept is therefore difficult. Richard Mitchell notes that following the tabling of the Peace Preservation Law in 1925, which referred specifically to kokutai, a complaint was made that even scholars could not define the concept. Home Minister, Wakatsuki Reijirō, replied that it simply meant “nation combined with the Emperor.” 3 Mark Peattie, writing on one of the great kokutai loyalists, Ishiwara Kanji, notes that, “the kokutai was 2
Scholars who have addressed the issue of kokutai include Brownlee, John S, Japanese Historians and the National Myths, 1600‐ 1945: the Age of the Gods and Emperor Jinmu (Vancouver: University of Tokyo Press, 1997); Kitagawa, Joseph, "The Japanese Kokutai (National Community) History and Myth," History of Religions 13, no. 3 (1974); Brownlee, John S, Four Stages of the Japanese Kokutai http://www.adilegian.com/PDF/brownlee.pdf; Wakabayashi, Bob Tadashi, Anti‐Foreignism and Western Learning in Early‐Modern Japan: the new theses of 1825 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986). The term is now associated with Japanese Imperialist policies as evidenced by the uproar the Prime Minister Mori Yoshiro caused by using the term in a political speech. See Japan Times Online, “Mori Denies that ‘Kokutai’ Carries Imperial Connotations,” Japan Times, Tuesday, 6 June, 2000 2000.http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi‐bin/nn20000606a1.html 3
Mitchell, Richard H., Censorship in Imperial Japan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983). 198. 2
the spiritual motive force around which the army developed its psychological conditioning of its officers.” 4 The enduring image of the Japanese soldier throughout the post‐war era has been one of unswerving commitment to the cause of the kokutai. Scholars such as Kazuko Tsurumi, however, have argued that this commitment was more the result of coercion than volition. 5 Related to this is John Dower’s observation that it was possible that some soldiers were not “homogenous and harmonious, devoid of individuality and thoroughly subordinated by the group [as] the Japanese ruling groups were constantly exhorting them to become so.” 6 One purpose of this thesis is to probe and, where necessary, problematise commonly‐held understandings related to the Japanese soldier. We will see that, in the final analysis and contrary to both Tsurumi’s and Dower’s assumptions, Tamura largely embraced the teachings of the kokutai, not because he was coerced, but because this set of thoughts provided solace at a time of great difficulty. Although displaced to the emotionally depriving, hostile, and unfamiliar terrain of the 4
Peattie, Mark R, Ishiwara Kanji and Japan's Confrontation with the West (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975).37. Hartley, Barbara, "Performing the Nation: Magazine Images of Women and Girls in the Illustrations of Takabatake Kasho, 1925–1937" Intersections: Gender and Sexuality in Asia and the Pacific, no. 16 (Mar, 2008). 5
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual: Japan before and after Defeat in World War II (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970). 97. 6
Dower, John W, War Without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War (New York: Pantheon Books, 1986). 31. 3
New Guinea theatre of war where he is under the ever‐present spectre of an ignoble and inglorious death, Tamura willingly embraces kokutai beliefs as a key motivating element. This commitment did not come without some personal angst on Tamura’s part, especially in relation to the behaviour of Imperial Army senior command. While he may at times have been less than impressed with military systems and those responsible, his commitment to the ideology remains intact. Lynette Zeitz contends that, “a man’s experience […] could be influenced by a myriad of variables.” However, she goes on to point out that it would be an oversimplification “to relate one account as typical of the hundreds of thousands who fought in [New Guinea].” 7 While this thesis focuses on the diary of one soldier, a key objective is to illustrate that there is, indeed, a variance from the quintessential vision of the coerced Japanese soldier. 8 Since the end of the Pacific War, there has been on‐going interest in Japan in personal accounts of the war experience of serving Japanese military personnel. This is perhaps a function of the fact that, for Japanese soldiers, the Pacific War was both a “war without mercy” 9 and one of the “bloodiest and hardest fought” 10 of 7
Zeitz, Lynette, "No Half Hearted Soldiers: The Japanese Army's Experience of Defeat in the South West Pacific" (Adelaide University, 1992).http://cas.awm.gov.au/item/MSS1507. 80. 8
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 97. 9
This quote is in reference to the title of Dower’s book, War Without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War. 4
campaigns. Nevertheless, with the exception of a limited selection of fictional and non‐
fictional accounts, there remains a dearth of information in English language scholarship regarding the experiences of Japanese foot soldiers who fought against the Allied troops in New Guinea. Accounts of the war‐time experiences – both fictional and otherwise ‐ of Imperial Japanese Army soldiers include translations of the works of sengoha (post war) writers, such as Ōoka Shōhei (1909‐1988) and Umezaki Haruo (1915‐1965). Written by defeated returnees, this material exhibits the “survivor syndrome” characteristics of Japanese servicemen who returned alive from the war. David Stahl argues that Ōoka “faced the daunting task of formulating his traumatic battlefield experience in such a way as to find significance and value in seemingly pointless survival.” 11 With respect to the argument being mounted here regarding Tamura’s affiliation with official discourse, these post‐war accounts of war‐time experience support Simon Partner’s assertion that “few Japanese remember supporting the war with any great fervour […] most remember the coercion they experienced as well as the deprivation.” 12 This position is 10
Overy, Richard, War in the Pacific (Crows Nest, NSW: Allen and Unwin, 2010). Foreword. 11
Stahl, David C, The Burdens of Survival: Ōoka Shōhei’s Writings on the Pacific War (Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 2003), 88. 12
Partner, Simon, Toshie: A Story of Village Life in Twentieth Century Japan (Berkely, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2004). 61. See also for example Yamashita, Samuel Hideo (compiler), Leaves from an Autumn of Emergencies: Selections from the Wartime Diaries of Ordinary Japanese (Honolulu: 5
reflected in the downright condemnation of the official war‐time discourse by scholars such as Ienaga Saburō and Maruyama Masao. 13 A non‐fiction work that is compiled from sources written during the course of the war is Kike Wadatsumi no Koe, (1949, Listen to the Voices from the Sea). 14 Published during the immediate post‐war years, this collection preserves the voices of soldiers through letters by student conscripts. Eric Dowling points out that “the students appear as victims of the World War II militarists,” 15 and, certainly, the use of the text as part of the school curriculum in the 1950s lent “appeal to the wide‐spread victimism of the Japanese.” 16 Nevertheless, in terms of the material being representative of a cross‐
section of troops, the collection is limited since it includes only material produced by students and thereby omits the voices of “almost all regular servicemen.” 17 A second text is Emiko Ohnuki‐Tierney’s Kamikaze Diaries. While free of the “Japan as victim” University of Hawaii Press, 2005); Cook, Haruko Taya and Cook, Theodore, Japan at War: An Oral History (London: Phoenix Press, 2000). 13
Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics (London: Oxford University Press, 1969); Ienaga Saburō, Japan's Last War: World War Two and the Japanese, 1931 ‐ 1945 (Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1979). 14
Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Kinen‐kai, ed., Kike Wadatsumi no Koe (Scranton: The University of Scranton Press, 2000). 15
Dowling, Eric, "The Beauty of Personal Sorrow in War: Kike Wadatsumi no Koe," in Japanese Cultural Nationalism, ed. Roy Starrs (Folkstone, Kent: Global Oriental, 2004). 165. 16
Ibid. 165. 17
Ibid. 167. 6
approach that characterises Kike Wadatsumi no Koe, this text is limited by the fact that it, once again, features only the voices of students. While this group comprised an increasingly important source of conscripts in the closing stages of the war, their thoughts are not necessarily representative of the wider ranks of the Imperial Japanese Army. My focus in this thesis, therefore, is on the rarely heard real‐time voice of the soldier in the combat‐zone, and particularly on the voice of Tamura Yoshikazu who made contemporaneous diary entries during a period of combat‐zone duty. As an Imperial Army foot‐soldier, Tamura had served a tour of duty in China and was then re‐conscripted to a unit destined for New Guinea at a time of the decline of Japan’s military fortunes. His diary provides scholars in the present era with a valuable resource that expresses the hopes and fears of the everyman Japanese soldier despatched to foreign shores to defend and expand the Japanese Empire. Tamura’s Diary and Diary Writing in Japan Tamura was not the only Japanese soldier to keep a diary. Dairy writing, in fact, was a strongly established tradition in pre‐war Japan, which has continued into 7
education practices in Japan even today. 18 As Hugh Clarke notes, the diary provided a narrative outlet in a country where “traditionally the expression of individual emotions or personal opinions was regarded as disruptive or even destructive.” 19 During World War II, soldiers were expected to keep field diaries that would log such things as food supplies, equipment, work undertaken, and troop movements. These diaries were strategic in nature, and as such, were subject to inspection on demand. As outlined below, the intelligence they contained ensured their value to the Allies, and thus this material rarely remained accessible in Australia once it fell into American hands. In many ways, the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu is atypical. This is because, rather than providing strategic information, this work provides a glimpse into the more personal space of the combat‐zone conscript. In addition to descriptive passages on the conditions encountered in New Guinea, the writer also commits to paper his responses to his new environment and the emotions generated by, for example, being separated from home. Significantly, while the prose mode dominates, the diary is exceptional in that this is continually interspersed with verse, long regarded as the most efficacious way to express feelings in Japanese. Considering his limited education, Tamura wrote in 18
Clarke, Hugh, "Walls, Physical and Ideological, and a Soldier's Diary," The Journal of the Oriental Society of Australia. 39‐40, 1 (2007‐8). 114. 19
Ibid. 114. 8
a surprisingly classical style that features 31 syllable tanka as well as short free style poems. In terms of the identifying features of the diary, while the document does not contain the full name of the owner, the contents of the entries point to its being the property of Tamura Yoshikazu. This was verified from the handwriting and specifics related to the writer’s family by Tamura’s younger brother, Sadanobu. 20 Although there is some uncertainty regarding chronology and the dates of certain entries, the diary spans the period from March, 1943, to Tamura’s likely demise in December, 1943. The Wider Practice of Diary Writing in the Japanese Military While the focus of this thesis is the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu, my research has also involved examining translations of captured Japanese war‐time documents held at the Australian War Memorial (hereafter, AWM), including soldier diaries and interrogation reports of Japanese prisoners of war. As part of the Allied 20
Tamura’s brother, Sadanobu, provides extensive information related to Yoshikazu’s life before departing for New Guinea in an NHK documentary on soldiers and diaries in the Pacific War. For further details, see http://archives.nhk.or.jp/chronicle/B10002200090308160030137/. The documentary Saigo no Kotoba presented by documentary film maker and author, Shigematsu Kiyoshi, examined the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu, among other South West Pacific diarists, was aired on 7 December 2003. See also Shigematsu Kiyoshi and Watanabe Kō, Saigo no kotoba: senjō ni nokosareta 24‐man ji no todokanakatta tegami (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2004). 152‐206. 9
intelligence gathering process, diaries which were considered of a strategic nature were first translated through the Allied Translator and Interpreter Service (hereafter, ATIS). 21 This unit was formed in September 1942, drawing on Australian officer linguists based in Brisbane. From January 1943, however, ATIS also established several advanced echelons closer to the battlefields to the north of Australia both to provide preliminary examination and translation of captured material, and to interrogate prisoners. 22 According to Lynette Zeitz, “at its creation ATIS consisted of 25 officers and 10 enlisted men; by 1945 the organization had grown to encompass 250 officers and 1700 enlisted men and women.” 23 Once the diaries were processed by Australian personnel, the originals were forwarded to the United States of America. Unfortunately, by the end of the war, the majority of these materials had been either lost or summarily destroyed. 24 As a result, Japanese War diaries in their original format from the Pacific campaign are 21
The translated versions of these diaries largely remain housed at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. 22
http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/AJRP2.nsf/1d3d700c7bdddf93ca2565d20010fbf6/3d5b6e6c441033c6ca25
6d4f00051dc2?OpenDocument. 23
Zeitz, "No Half Hearted Soldiers." 240. 24
Donald Keene worked as a translator of soldiers’ diaries from Guadalcanal for the American forces. The diaries were supposed to be translated and then disposed of; however, Keene writes that “I hid such diaries, though it was forbidden, intending to return them to the diarists’ families, but my desk was searched and the diaries were confiscated.” Keene, Donald, ed., Chronicles of My Life: An American in the Heart of Japan (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008). 37. 10
quite rare. 25 Although the AWM in Canberra holds a substantial archive of copies of Japanese military diaries, Tamura’s text has particular significance as one of the few extant original diaries written in New Guinea by a non‐commissioned member of the Imperial Japanese Army. It is fortunate that this material was either considered not to convey anything of a strategic nature or perhaps merely “slipped through the cracks.” My approach to the analysis of Tamura’s diary is clarified in the chapter outline provided below. Chapter Overview Chapter One introduces the diarist, Tamura Yoshikazu, and backgrounds his second enlistment into the Imperial Japanese Army at the close of 1942. In order to position Tamura’s war experience within an historical framework, a brief synopsis of the New Guinea campaign is provided. We examine the physical characteristics of Tamura’s diary and the nature of the entries made. Noting that Tamura’s writing occurred “under the influence of the kokutai gaze,” we investigate the nature of the text produced by the diarist and his motivation for keeping a diary. 25
Working with translated diaries is fraught as the original meaning may have been distorted. Keene notes that” translating such materials was so tedious that we tried making it more interesting by rendering the Japanese documents into old fashioned English or the language of popular fiction.” Ibid. 36. 11
Aaron Moore raises the question of truth in diaries and certainly the panopticon‐like society of military Japan presupposes an influence within the diary of the state sanctioned kokutai discourse. The introduction of nikki kensa (the review by parents and teachers of diaries written by students) further formalised the practice of diary writing, while also placing a regulatory tone of censorship on the diary’s contents. The practice of nikki kensa within the army arguably constrained the contents of diaries and certainly resulted in an “increasing intrusion of the state in to the ‘private lives’ of individual servicemen.” 26 While it will be argued that Tamura wrote primarily for himself, the contents of his entries nonetheless divulge the types and degree of state sanctioned discourse that had become a pervasive and, indeed, motivating, part of his quotidian life on the battle‐field. As Moore argues, an important aspect of diary writing in the field of war was self‐motivation or, to use his term, “self mobilization.” This process, Moore notes, “describes admonitions to act (‘I must go first’) and ‘self criticism’ which involves castigating oneself for failing to embody normative behaviours, thoughts and 26
Moore, Aaron William, "The Chimera of Privacy: Reading Self‐Discipline in Japanese Diaries from the Second World War (1937‐1945)," The Journal of Asian Studies 68, no. 1 (2009). 166. 12
feelings.” 27 The types of self motivation expressed in the diary provides valuable insights into the degree to which the “message [of state discourse] was received.” 28 Chapter Two will examine the most compelling ideological influence for Japanese soldiers, that is, the narrative of the kokutai. This discourse, created in order to re‐establish Imperial rule under Meiji, was laden with the mythological origins of Japan. The Emperor’s place as the direct descendant of a line of unbroken emperors situated within this re‐invented tradition was pivotal, and death on his behalf became the ultimate display of loyalty for all his subjects. Furthermore, linked to the mythological origins of Japan was the importance of nature as a signifier of Japan’s uniqueness, and, indeed, landscape under the kokutai became a unifying trope. Parallel to Japan’s uniqueness was the spirit of yamato damashii, which, in its purest manifestation, offered a sense of an inimitable spiritual superiority. Ultimately, the spirit of yamato damashii would be distorted to fit Imperial Japan’s requirement of death from its soldiers. The authority of the kokutai discourse was reinforced with the support of Imperial rescripts which confirmed the requirement for the sacrifice of life by subjects on behalf of the Emperor. Universal conscription ensured that all men of required age 27
Ibid. 168. 28
Ibid. 169. 13
and physical fitness would now serve on behalf of the Empire. Children were educated under an increasingly militarised system, which relied heavily on the glorification of the tragic heroes of past military campaigns. The Kokutai no Hongi (1937, The Fundamental Principles of the National Polity), circulated by the Ministry of Education as the distillation of the essence of the kokutai, demanded not only the sacrifice of life, but also the total relinquishment of the self. Finally, The Senjinkun (Field Service Code), enacted in 1942, ensured that soldiers were cognisant of the need to embrace death as the highest form of patriotism. In total, the kokutai became the basis of what I will term a “sense‐of‐country” for soldiers. A rupture from its teachings was threatened by dislocation from the familiar aspects of landscape associated with the unique nature of Japan as this was valorised by the kokutai discourse. Chapter Three will examine the dire conditions which potentially posed a threat to a soldier’s continued adherence to the tenets of the kokutai. The media of Japan had created a romanticized image of the tropical islands to which soldiers were despatched. However, arriving on the shores of New Guinea, Tamura soon realised that this was, indeed, “hell”s front line.” 29 Soldiers were, in fact, out of familiar landscape. The jungle is not only dark and uninviting, it is disorienting and gloomy. The constant 29
This term is in reference to the Chapter Three heading in Zeitz, "No Half Hearted Soldiers." 76. 14
rain which wreaks havoc on Tamura’s life consistently undermines his morale. Lack of food, and especially familiar food, causes a further sense of dislocation in addition to precipitating illness, disease and utter fatigue. The dire conditions Tamura experiences are exacerbated by a now dysfunctional military system which is not only unsupportive, but also derelict in its duty towards enlisted men. An even more harrowing aspect for the diarist is the lack of contact from home. Philosopher and historian, Watsuji Tetsurō, argued that man is a social being, and for Tamura the social disconnectedness caused by displacement to an alien and hostile environment, further threatens his morale. 30 Inevitably, dislocation from his ancestral landscape generates in the diarist a psychological insecurity that is at times more threatening than the physical presence of the Allies. Chapter Four will examine the strategies employed by Tamura to provide him with both a more familiar environment, and the support of contact from family and friends. Displaced in an alien and inhospitable environment, Tamura is profoundly unsettled by the complete absence of the familiar. Contact with the homeland represented by family and friends is a source of comfort for those subjected to diaspora. 30
Carter, Robert, "Watsuji Tetsurō," in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N Zalta (2009). http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/watsuji‐tetsuro/. 2‐3. 15
Such an existence is also often eased by the ability to physically recreate healing aspects of the environment such as shelter, gardens, clothing and food. However, for the soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army, lacking in the quotidian elements of a familiar life, recreation of anything resembling the homeland was impossible. In order to neutralize the devastating impact of the alien New Guinea environment, Tamura must attempt to cultivate some semblance of the familiar, often through fantasy, including the recreation of texts such as letters and other consoling forms of media. Chapter Five will investigate the ways in which Tamura manipulates his current environment in order to recreate the familiar surrounds of the sublime environment of Japan. The theme of landscape, and particularly natural landscape, is a vital one to the understanding of Tamura’s diary. As a citizen of Imperial Japan, Tamura had been influenced by the increasingly xenophobic attitudes of policy makers, educators, and the military, all of which lauded the landscape and nature of Japan as unparalleled. For a soldier like Tamura, dislocation to a remote, hostile, and alien landscape such as New Guinea threatened to undermine both his motivation and his ability to remain committed to his role as a soldier destined to sacrifice his life on behalf of the Emperor. 16
The sublimity of Japan’s unique natural landscape was all the more profound when contrasted with the completely alien environment of the New Guinea battleground. In fact, despatched to the far reaches of the South West Pacific with the expectation that their roles would be pivotal to the expansion of the Japanese Empire, soldiers inevitably felt much like current author, Murakami Haruki (b. 1949), who, even as a leisure traveler, “exhausted and disgusted with the food – [fled] from the foreign back towards the familiar.” 31 The familiar for soldiers was not only the furusato aspects of Japan – food, shelter and media ‐ but also the landscape and climate, both of which formed the background for the kokutai discourse. Once the troops were ground down in the war‐zone, physically returning to the familiar was impossible. However, emotionally, a life‐rope was achieved by escaping through memory, that is, through a “movement inward, away from the unfamiliar and back to the familiar.” 32 By drawing “on language that approximate[s] the vision” 33 to recall the landscape and seasonal markers of the homeland, Tamura is able to refashion the war‐zone surrounds and thereby come to terms – to some extent, at least – with the hostile and alien New Guinea environment. 31
Gabriel, Phillip, "Back to the Unfamiliar: The Travel Writings of Murakami Haruki," Japanese Language and Literature 36, no. 2 (2002). 154. 32
Ibid. 154. 33
Moore, Aaron William, "The Peril of Self‐Discipline: Chinese Nationalist, Japanese and American Servicemen Record the Rise and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1937‐1945," Ph.D.thesis (Princeton University, 2006). 323. 17
Chapter Six will examine the concept of the noble death under the kokutai ideology, and the way in which Tamura utilises this concept to remain motivated. A significant component of the national consciousness during the war years was the requirement to die on behalf of the Emperor, referred to as taigi, or devotion to the true cause of death. Soldiers recognised that devotion to taigi was the ultimate expression of loyalty. Death was not just a likely outcome of war under Imperial Japan; it was, in fact, each soldier’s great obligation, a noble and glorious sacrifice. In fact, troops despatched from the homeland were already considered dead. The Hagakure 34 clearly stated Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand‐foot cliffs, dying of disease or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master. And every day without fail one should consider oneself as dead. 34
The Hagakure was seen the textbook for the military. Morris, Ivan, The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan (London: Secker and Warburg, 1975). 453. 18
There is a saying of the elders that goes, “Step from under the eaves and you’re a dead man. Leave the gate and the enemy is waiting.” This is not a matter of being careful. It is to consider oneself as dead beforehand. 35 In accepting his role as a soldier of Imperial Japan, the diarist repeatedly acknowledges throughout his narrative that he will not return to Japan, implying recognition on his part that he too, is “already dead.” Chapter Seven will examine the potential ruptures to Tamura’s commitment to die on behalf of the kokutai. Central to this is the requirement to relinquish a sense of self and an imperative to remaining committed to fighting in the battlefield on behalf of the Emperor’s Holy War. 36 Japan’s expansionist programme was supposedly aimed at the emancipation of Asia, but now in the depths of the New Guinea jungle, Tamura is confronted only with what he considers to be very primitive natives in a total backwoods. 37 Further to that, his role as a soldier involved in airstrip construction does not provide him with a sense of being involved in a great and noble cause. Ironically, while Tamura remains committed to the requirements of the kokutai, it is disillusionment with the senior command as the purported upholders of the ideology, 35
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai, trans. William Scott Wilson (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1979). 164. 36
Skya, Walter A, Japan's Holy War: the Ideology of Radical Shintō Ultranationalism (Durham and London: Duke University, 2009). 274‐ 280. 37
Tamura uses the term “natives” in his diary. 19
which will threaten to unhinge Tamura’s commitment. His lowly role, combined with the inequities he perceives in the military, causes Tamura to regret what he terms as a past lacking in personal achievement. Chapter Eight will investigate the internal tensions experienced by Tamura in his struggle to unconditionally accept the kokutai demand to die on behalf of the Emperor. This tension is articulated in the diary as the writer’s “main‐line” – adherence to the Imperial project – and “sub‐line” – desire for an individual self. 38 His search for self‐worth on the battlefield is, in fact, inextricably linked to continuing “to achieve conquests and glory in this world, in the present time, as a way of fulfilling one’s role in life.” 39 Although the expressions “main‐line” and “sub‐line” are only recorded once in the diary, they best encapsulate the impasse created by these opposing aspects in Tamura’s psyche. This chapter will examine the rupture caused to Tamura’s commitment by the dispiriting military system in New Guinea which Tamura recognises as immoral. Tamura must relinquish any sense of self, and become what Nitobe Inazō 38
While the translation for these provided by Keiko Tamura is in lower case, I have chosen to reflect their importance in the diary by using Upper Case. 39
McClain, James L, Japan: A Modern History (New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 2002). 79. 20
termed “a man without a me,” 40 in order to remain devoted to the pathway to death. In the end, it is, ironically, castigation by a senior officer of the military which will in fact cause Tamura to embrace that ideology unconditionally. Ultimately, the diarist will succumb to the order “to follow the rules of combat, and never do anything your own way.” 41 Once Tamura recognizes that the only way for him to continue to live well under the shadow of impending death is to commit to the requirements of the kokutai, he is able to embrace his ultimate commitment to die on behalf of the Emperor. This chapter overview of the thesis lists a number of recurring themes in Tamura’s diary, including death, the Emperor, and nature. It is also clear that the diarist struggles with relinquishing his self in compliance with official demands. Before proceeding, it will be useful to examine each of these in further detail below. The Emperor, Death, and Yamato Damashii As indicated by the Wakatsuki Reijirō comment cited in the opening to this discussion, the significant trope of the kokutai discourse was the Emperor himself. Devotion to the kokutai inevitably meant an unswerving loyalty to the Emperor of Japan. 40
Nitobe Inazō, The Japanese Nation: Its Land, Its People, and Its Life, with Special Consideration to Its Relations with the United States 2nd edition (first ed. 1912) (Safety Harbour, Fla: Simon Publications, 2003). 156. 41
Moto Intelligence Report No 12 ATIS CT72 (826). 41‐2. 21
Not only was the Emperor the descendant of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu‐ōmikami, he was, in fact, a living god, (arabitogami). 42 The concept of giving one’s life as a faithful retainer of this living god was made even more palatable by Imperial Japan’s notion of the family state (kazoku kokka). Now the Emperor was not only the manifestation of the mythological Amaterasu but also the benevolent and nurturing father figure. 43 Unswerving loyalty to the Emperor fundamentally required a subject to give his life in the name of the Emperor. Considerable effort was expended by the authorities to persuade the subjects of Imperial Japan to this end with soldiers, particularly, being exhorted to accept that “duty is weightier than a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather.” 44 Ultimately, the apparent acceptance of the requirement for death by Japanese soldiers meant that they exhibited “qualities that every army covertly hopes for, but shrinks from demanding directly.” 45 In its most sinister manifestation, “the Japanese military tradition had a distinctive, almost unique element. Whereas German 42
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Emiko, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms: the Militarization of Aesthetics in Japanese History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002). 85‐91. 43
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi, trans. John Owen Gauntlett (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1949). 76 and 87. 44
———, The Imperial Precepts to Soldiers and Sailors (Tokyo: The Department of Education, 1913). 7. 45
Harries, Meirion and Harries, Susie, Soldiers of the Sun: the Rise and Fall of the Imperial Japanese Army (New York: Random House, 1991). 323. 22
soldiers were told to kill, Japanese soldiers were told to die.” 46 This requirement for death above everything else is perhaps easier to understand when we consider that soldiers were said to be laying down their lives for no less than a “living god.” As Richard Storry argues “the civic duty of patriotism, common to all nations, was identified in modern Japan with the claims and obligations and ecstasies of a living religious faith.” 47 At the centre of this religious faith was the concept of “chūkun” (sincerity of heart towards the Emperor). 48 Although over 140,000 Japanese soldiers were despatched to Papua New Guinea during the Pacific War, a mere 13,000 survived. 49 Major‐General Yamagata Tsuyuo, Commander of the Buna Detachment clearly outlined the expectations placed upon these soldiers in a speech to his troops in December, 1942. 46
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Emiko, Kamikaze Diaries: Reflections of Japanese Student Soldiers (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006). 4. Italics in the original. 47
Storry, Richard, The Double Patriots: A Study of Japanese Nationalism (London: Chatto and Windus, 1957). 2. 48
Ibid. 4. Carol Gluck states that by the end of Meiji “emperor and empire, kokutai and chūkun aikoku, were the patriotic concentrate […] devoted to developing a “sense of nation.” Gluck, Carol, Japan's Modern Myths: Ideology of the Late Meiji Period (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985). 250. 49
Zeitz, "No Half Hearted Soldiers." 71. 23
Men should be made to realize the great honour of being in the front line in the Empire’s hour of crisis and of having the opportunity to lay down their lives for their country. 50 By the time the diarist is despatched to Japan’s offensive in New Guinea, troops pitted against the superior equipment of the Allies were expected to perform on a belief in the mystical fighting spirit of a member of the unique yamato race. Once Tamura is trapped in the hell that is the New Guinea battlefront, the prospect of a splendid death becomes increasingly remote for him. In order for the diarist to remain obligated to the pathway of death on behalf of the Emperor, he must employ self‐motivating strategies which rely heavily on “integrating the language of authority.” 51 A major influence for Tamura is the belief that he is, indeed, a member of that unique band of brothers of the land of Yamato, at one with an Emperor descended from a line unbroken from the origins of Japan under the mythological Emperor Jimmu. 52 Tamura felt that he, too, was heir to the indomitable spirit of yamato damashii. This spirit was described by Lafcadio Hearn as 50
Message to troops by Major‐General Yamagata Tsuyuo, Commander of the Buna Detachment, 17 December 1942, ATIS, CT (494) p 1. 51
Moore, "The Peril of Self‐Discipline". 326. 52
Gluck, Japan's Modern Myths: Ideology of the Late Meiji Period. 146. 24
the Soul of Yamato (or Heart of Yamato), — the appellation of the old province of Yamato, seat of the early emperors, being figuratively used for the entire country. We might correctly, though less literally, interpret the expression Yamato‐damashii as 'The Soul of Old Japan.” 53 While the concept of yamato damashii may have originated as an alternative to Chinese learning during the Heian period, Imperial Japan introduced into the notion of yamato damashii the re‐invented tradition of bushidō – as the “Soul of Old Japan” – in order to ensure that it would be linked to the ultimate sacrifice of death. Now linked to warriors and the fighting spirit, yamato damashii became “the official rallying cry for the Japanese armed forces in World War II." 54 Linking spiritual superiority to military‐inspired bushidō themes further reinforced the requirement of death from soldiers under the banner of unique clanship in the name of the Emperor and unique spiritual superiority under yamato damashii. In providing a sense of country for Japanese soldiers, the kokutai created tragic heroes 53
Hearn, Lafcadio, Japan: An Attempt at Interpretation (New York: MacMillan Company, 1904). 177. 54
Miller, Roy Andrew, Japan's Modern Myth: the Language and Beyond (New York: Weatherhill, 1982). 13. 25
whose mission was to die unconditionally in the name of taigimeibun (devotion to the greater cause.) 55 Nature In addition to the unique clanship under the Emperor and the unique sense of superiority under yamato damashii, pre‐war Japan regarded the natural landscape of the archipelago as without rival. Most of the soldiers sent to New Guinea were conscripts, and many had spent previous time as soldiers in China. As veteran soldiers, their expectations of the battle‐field had been forged in a very different natural environment to the one that they now faced. The mythical, glorious death expected on behalf of the Emperor was aestheticized by the unique qualities associated with being a member of the Yamato nation in the peerless surrounds of Japan. The fact that the 55
The terms taigi meaning a noble or just cause, and taigimeibun which further identified this noble cause as being a specific relationship between the Emperor and his subjects, were used to justify the sacrifice of young soldiers’ lives on behalf of the Emperor under the notion of a “Just War.” For explanations of these terms see Mass, Jeffrey P, ed., The Origins of Japan's Medieval World: Courtiers, Clerics, Warriors, and Peasants in the Fourteenth Century (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1987). 337; Lamberti, Matthew V, "Tokugawa Nariaki and the Japanese Imperial Institution: 1853‐1858," Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 32 (1972). 103‐104; Kinmonth, Earl H, "Fukuzawa Reconsidered: Gakumon no Susume and its Audience," The Journal of Asian Studies 37, no. 4 (Aug., 1978). 694; Calman, Donald, The Nature and Origins of Japanese Imperialism: A Reinterpretation of the Great Crisis of 1873 (New York: Routledge, 1992). 136. 26
nation was, as Julia Adeney Thomas asserts, the embodiment of nature, further valorised the natural attributes of the Japanese archipelago, essentialised in, for example, the symbols of cherry blossoms and Mt Fuji. 56 Under the kokutai discourse, nature became an important construct which encouraged emotional ties to the homeland, and subsequently became intrinsic to the sense of self. In fact nature moved “from being defined in obliquely politically ways to being the ultimate guarantor of national political culture […].” 57 Watsuji affirmed that the individual must be able to become “part of the objective world or nature; [that is] the self [must] absorb the outer world into itself.” 58 As will be demonstrated, removing Japanese soldiers from the heimlich (habitual or homely) environment of the acculturated landscape of Japan created a potential threat to the viability of the teachings of the kokutai, and it was imperative for the soldier, Tamura, to find mechanisms which would enable him to remain in a familiar landscape. As noted in the preceding chapter outline, key mechanisms include memory, seasonal themes and reference to physical features such as mountains. 56
Thomas, Julia Adeney, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology (Berkeley, Los Angeles & London: University of California Press, 2001). 17. 57
Ibid. 181. 58
Lebra, Takie Sugiyama, "Self in Japanese Culture," in Japanese Sense of Self, ed. Nancy Rosenberger (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1992). 113. 27
While refashioning aspects of nature allows Tamura to metaphorically remain in familiar landscape, Tamura’s use of the ocean, and specifically the Black Current, inspires to embrace the idea of a majestic death. Under the kokutai ideology, bushidō inspired motifs from nature, such as the ephemeral cherry blossoms as a metaphor for the young soldiers’ lives, and the concept of dying as the Emperor’s Shield, abounded. Dependence on the slogans, natural imagery, and motifs associated with a noble death provides Tamura with the strategies necessary to self‐motivate to accept death. Relinquishing the self The requirement of “dying to the self and returning to the one” 59 meant suppression of individual desires and aspirations outside of sacrificing all on behalf of the Emperor. But in spite of Tamura’s dedicated commitment to the state discourse, there remains a self that, on occasions, he struggles to relinquish. As Tamura faces the certainty of impending death, he is, in fact, living “on the edge of time.” 60 Critically for soldiers on the battlefield, there is an awareness of mortality, and, as such, they are 59
Monbushōhen, Kokutai no Hongi (Tokyo: Monbushō, 1937). 81‐82, as cited in Skya, Japan's Holy War. 268. Skya notes that he has altered the Gauntlett’s translation of “self‐effacement and a return to [the] one” to “dying to the self and returning to [the] one.” See note 18 p 356. 60
Claremont, Yasuko, Japanese Prose Poetry (Sydney: Wild Peony, 2006). 60. 28
living “under an existential imperative.” Indeed, in spite of the “certainty of death,” Tamura, too, continues to hope that he may “nevertheless achieve [the] fair share of rewards that come to those that struggle to be human.” 61 Rather than dwell on the hopelessness of his situation, Tamura reflects on his past life, which paradoxically assists him to come to terms with the requirements of the present. Perhaps the greatest “egocentric” response from Tamura is generated by the death in the field of comrades. While his commitment to sacrifice his own life in the name of Imperial Japan is never in doubt, he has much greater difficulty finding meaning in the death of the young men around him. The grief that engulfs him at these losses causes him to call into question his own strength of character. My analysis of the diary of Tamura will demonstrate how the act of diary writing under the gaze of the kokutai discourse enables the diarist to reconcile what Nishikawa Yūko has recognised as an insatiable desire to be a true and loyal subject of the Emperor at the very sacrifice of his own life, with a deep seated desire to succeed through his own personal ambition as an individual. 62 Finally, the true spirit of yamato 61
Plath, David, "Arc, Circle and Sphere: Schedules for Selfhood," in Constructs for Understanding Japan, ed. Yoshio Sugimoto and Ross E Mouer (London and New York: Kegan Paul, 1989).72‐3. 62
Nishikawa Yūko, “Hito wa naze nikki wo tsuzuru no ka?” Nikki wo tsuzuru to iu koto: kokumin kyōiku sōchi to sono itsudatsu (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2009). 201. Nishikawa terms these 向上心 (ambition) and 滅私奉公 (selfless patriotic devotion). 29
damashii, that is to live well until the time of death, allows Tamura to commit to the greater cause expressed through taigi with a sense of pride and contentment. His subjective acceptance of his role as a soldier of the Empire, and his commitment to the ultimate sacrifice of death, enable Tamura to become at one with both his environment, and the expectation of death that adherence to the kokutai has placed upon him. In her discussion of student tokkōtai pilots, Emiko Ohnuki‐Tierney notes that the “letters, diaries and memoirs” of these doomed young men “remain as testimony to their humanity” and that “their voices [are] too powerful to be buried for good.” 63 This position aptly reflects one of the purposes of my current research. However, where Ohnuki‐Tierney has been criticized for failing to undertake “a deeper analysis into the complexity of [the] choices” 64 made by the subjects of her research, I have attempted through grounding my analysis in a strong socio/political context to provide further insights into the mind of a young soldier, particularly one coming from rural Japan. 63
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries.37. 64
Notehelfer, Fred G, "Reviewed work(s): Kamikaze Diaries: Reflections of Japanese Student Soldiers by Emiko Ohnuki‐Tierney," The International History Review 29, no. No 1 (2007). 199. 30
Relevant Scholarship Ohnuki‐Tierney is one of a number of scholars, including Aaron Moore, Nishikawa Yūko, Donald Keene, Kang Sangjung, Maruyama Masao, Tsurumi Kazuko, Daniel Druckman, Ienaga Saburō, Thomas R H Havens, John Dower, Richard Earhart, Richard Smethurst, Julia Adeney Thomas, Watsuji Tetsurō, Augustin Berque, Andreea Ritivoi, Lynette Zeitz, Edward Drea, Kano Masanao and Fujii Tadatoshi, who provided highly instructive foundations for my own study. Ohnuki‐Tierney’s work on motifs associated with death on behalf of the Emperor was particularly helpful in guiding me to locate similar material in Tamura’s diary. Aaron Moore’s work on the diaries of Chinese Nationalist, American and Japanese soldiers during World War II was also useful in that it provided some initial insights into what compelled soldiers to write diaries, and how they created their own subjectivity from these diaries. Moore argues that, for soldiers, “the diary […] became a space where a record of fact and a record of self became bound up in the same discourse; [and] created a possibility (for better or worse) for servicemen to speak authoritatively about who they ‘really’ were.” 65 Examinations of diary writing by Nishikawa Yūko and Donald Keene have provided further valuable insight. 65
Moore, Aaron William, "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War," Japan Focus (2009). 12. 31
We have noted that Tamura’s diary cannot be read outside the official discourse of Japan which impacted so heavily on his work and in this respect, the writing of Kang Sang Jung, in particular Nashionarizumu (first published 2001), 66 provided a valuable framework for my analysis of kokutai. While Kang recognises the “slipperiness” of the term, he argues that the kokutai, based as it was on the meta‐narrative of the Emperor, was akin to a religious faith in its execution, a point that is evidenced by Tamura’s fervent reliance on its tenets. Maruyama Masao’s seminal work Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics was used to complement the work of Kang Sang Jung, as it was written by a scholar immediately post‐war. Maruyama uses the framework of traditionalism (that is, the social structure created through specific value systems) in Japan to examine how the influence of the kokutai could have been so pervasive. As an immediate post‐defeat work, his book is damning of the kokutai, and in being so, enables a close examination of those aspects of the discourse which were so powerful in convincing soldiers (and subjects) that theirs was a holy and just war. Maruyama argues strongly that the individual had no ability to express conscience away from the overarching power of the nation state. In a similar vein, Ienaga Saburō, Thomas R H Havens, John Dower and Richard Earhart have been invaluable in providing 66
Kang Sangjung, Nashonarizumu (Tokyo: Iwanami Shōten, 2001). 32
background to the social milieu of Japan immediately prior to and during the war. Richard Smethurst’s work was particularly useful in providing an interpretation of the social dynamics of rural Japan including examinations of the militarization of youth training centres and women’s organizations. Daniel Druckman’s framework for the formation of nations – in particular his explanations of individual response under goal and ego involvement – were an invaluable counter to Tsurumi Kazuko’s argument of unconditionally accepted coercion. Regarding commentary on the significance of landscape and nature in Japan, Julia Adeney Thomas’s works provided valuable insights. As Thomas asserts, nature came to replace history as “the guarantor of authentic culture.” 67 The work of Watsuji Tetsurō was pivotal in an understanding of the location of the self within an unfamiliar landscape. Not only was climate a part of the historical construct of Japan, Watsuji went even further to suggest that the self and the environment “were seen as interactive; the self melds with the environment by identifying with patterns of nature which are, nonetheless, culturally constructed.” 68 Particularly in respect to poetry, the work of Augustin Berque, focuses on the acculturation of nature, and has been highly 67
Yamashita, Samuel Hideo, "Review Julia Adeney Thomas. Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology," The American Historical Review 108, no. 3 (2003). 808. 68
Lebra, "Self in Japanese Culture." 93. 33
informative in analyzing Tamura’s views of nature. While reviews of soldiers’ diaries exist, I believe that this thesis is unique in conducting a review of the soldier’s sense of country based around the construct of familiar nature. Diasporic studies such as those undertaken by Andreea Ritivoi recognise that nostalgia plays an important part in physical dislocation. Ritivoi argues that nostalgia can be both the poison and the cure. 69 While Ritivoi’s analysis is of immigrants, there are similarities with the dislocated soldier, who, unable to physically recreate landscape, must rely on memory and fantasy in order to re‐establish familiar landscape and identity. My examination of the background of the New Guinea campaign has been greatly aided by the materials available through the research centre of the Australian War Memorial. Many of these materials were also used as the research material for a thesis written by Lynette Zeitz in 1992. This very informative work, titled No Half‐hearted Soldiers: The Japanese Army’s Experience of Defeat in the South West Pacific examined the “experience of Japanese soldiers of lower ranks to provide an understanding of the actions of men who have often been seen as ‘incomprehensible 69
Ritivoi, Andreea Deciu, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity, ed. Michael Krausz, Philosophy and the Global Context (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002). 39. 34
fanatics’ dying vaingloriously for their Emperor” 70 and was an indispensable reference for my own research. An examination of the experiences of Imperial Japanese Army soldiers would be incomplete without citing the works of Edward Drea, Kano Masanao and Fujii Tadatoshi. These materials are excellent examinations of Imperial Japanese Army military doctrine, military training, leadership, strategy and motivation for soldiers. Of particular importance is the emphasis in the work of these scholars on the requirement for spiritual strength over military might in the military endeavours of the Japanese Imperial Army machine. Fujii, especially, examines the methods that were utilised to indoctrinate soldiers, such as linking the soldier directly to the Emperor and the greater cause of Japan, and deifying the soldiers at Yasukuni Shrine (both examples of Druckman’s “goal” and “ego involvement”). He also notes that many soldiers resisted or at least grappled with this demand at the personal level. 71 Similarly, Kano Masanao recognises that, while soldiers may have not fully believed in their role, they understood the requirement that their destiny was only to die on behalf of the Emperor. As Kano points out, a soldier’s worth was merely the cost of a postcard that would convey their 70
Zeitz, "No Half Hearted Soldiers." Zeitz quotes Major‐General Yamagata Tsuyuo (Commander BUNA Area ‐ Dec 1942) that the Japanese were “no half‐hearted soldiers.” 71
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō: tegami, nikki, taikenki o yomitoku (Tokyo: Asahi Shimbunsha, 2002). 7. 35
conscription notice. 72 This point is strongly made in Kano’s analysis of the poetry of Miya Shūji (1912 – 1986), For Miya, the soldier is, in the end, merely a corpse burning without a name, and, more poignantly, without a voice. 73 This thesis will provide a platform from which the voice of one soldier, Tamura Yoshikazu, who relinquished his sense of individual self in order to devote himself to the greater cause of the Empire of Japan, can be heard. Notes on Conventions In the text of the discussion that follows, Japanese proper names are given in Japanese order except where English language publications by Japanese authors are cited. Multiple brief quotations from the same source within a single paragraph in this thesis are cited in the final appearance within the paragraph. Three periods enclosed in square brackets are used to indicate omissions of words in a cited quote. Similarly, square brackets are used to indicate words or expressions I have modified. There is no period for initials of given names. I have elected to use capitals for Imperial, 72
Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto: dōin to jūgun no seishin shi (Tokyo: Asahi Shimbunsha, 2005). 10. This was the term issen go rin, the cost of mailing a draft notice postcard, by which Japanese officers referred to ordinary conscripts. 73
Ibid. 32. 36
Emperor, and the South where the latter expression refers to the geographical area to which Tamura was despatched. The majority of the quotes from Tamura’s diary have been translated by the author with much valued assistance from my original supervisor, Dr Maria Flutsch. Those which have been translated by Dr Keiko Tamura, or other authors, are acknowledged. The transcript of the original Japanese diary which was used primarily for this thesis was provided by The Australia Japan Research Project at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra and can be found on the Australian War Memorial website. 74 The page numbers in this thesis referring to the diary come from the transcript, which runs to 143 pages. Dr Keiko Tamura’s translations of excerpts (some of which are included in this thesis) are also on this website. 75 The task of formatting the diary translations was made challenging by the fact that although a significant proportion of Tamura’s writing is pure prose narrative, the text also includes a hint of prose‐poetry and considerable sections of verse, including some tanka and some free‐verse. Thus, identifying line divisions and the points 74
The text of the diary continues over five pages beginning on the following page: http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/AJRP2.nsf/pages/NT0000E9E6?openDocument 75
Dr Tamura’s translations continue over 12 pages beginning on the following page: http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/AJRP2.nsf/pages/NT0000AC92?openDocument 37
where prose ends and poetry begins can sometimes be somewhat problematic. Given the lyrical nature of even Tamura's prose, I have taken advice from Maria Flutsch and tried to stay at most times with the line divisions in the original, except in obviously prose narrative passages. The poetry in the diary has been translated with capitals commencing each line. The conclusions I reach in this thesis are based on my analysis of Tamura’s diary. The thesis aims to speak the words that Tamura Yoshikazu expressed through his diary, so that the experience, the wisdom and the insights his diary provide may be made accessible to a wider reading audience. This in no way denies the deplorable atrocities that were committed by the Imperial Japanese Army during the Pacific campaign, nor does it devalue the experience of the Allied soldiers in New Guinea. Furthermore, my work in no way downplays the fact that other soldiers of Imperial Japan may have, in fact, been acting merely out of coercion. No judgement is made on the outcomes of the war, nor is there any attempt to elevate the experience of one soldier over the many others who perished. Rather, my study presents a site from which the voice of one soldier can be heard to provide an alternate viewpoint. As a starting point, the discussion commences with an overview of the diarist and the act of diary writing. 38
Chapter One An Extraordinary Diary of an Ordinary Soldier Introduction This chapter will introduce the diarist, Tamura Yoshikazu. Background information on Tamura’s life prior to his departure for the New Guinea campaign on 12 January 1943, including details of his previous military service, will be provided. The chapter will then consider a number of general issues related to diary writing with reference also to the diary writing tradition in Japan. Particular attention will be given to the question, for whom does Tamura write? In other words, does Tamura’s diary reflect Jochen Hellbeck’s words that “in its ideal form the diary is imagined as a receptacle for private convictions expressed in spontaneous and un‐coerced fashion,” or is there evidence of the influence of an official external gaze? 1 Most importantly, what compels a young Japanese man despatched to an alien and sensorially confronting foreign shore, where he will almost certainly meet his death, to record a selection of his thoughts, emotions and experiences in diary form? 1
Hellbeck, Jochen, Revolution on My Mind (Cambridge, Massachusetts, London, England: Harvard University Press, 2006). 3. 39
Who Was Tamura Yoshikazu? Figure 1. Photo of framed photograph of Tamura Yoshikazu in the family altar in Oyama, taken March 2009. Figure 2 Removed due to copyright
Map of Tochigi Prefecture. 2 2
http://gojapan.about.com/library/map/blmap‐tochigi.htm 40
Figure 3 Removed due to copyright
Map of Japan. 3 Tamura Yoshikazu was a young Japanese infantryman from Oyama, a farming community to the south of Utsunomiya in Tochigi Prefecture. 4 Born on 27 April, probably in about 1918, he was the eldest of three children, with one sister and a brother. 5 Tamura was born on a rice and vegetable farm encircled by mountains in the distance. As will be examined in Chapter Five, while in New Guinea Tamura often draws on natural features of this kind as a stabilizing mechanism to allow him to remain grounded in the familiar, mountains being a particular source of strength and inspiration. 3
http://gojapan.about.com/cs/japanmaps/l/blprefecturemap.htm 4
The kanji for Tamura’s hometown is 小山. 5
The year of Tamura’s birth is uncertain. See Keiko Tamura’s description of Tamura Yoshikazu’s diary at the AJRP website: http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256
b73000e4618?OpenDocument. 41
Figure 4 View from the original Tamura family home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture. Photo taken March 2009. Figure 5 The original Tamura home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture. The Tamura family home was a small wooden farm house with a tiled roof. 6 Two tatami rooms with a Buddhist family altar together with a lean‐to dirt floored kitchen comprised the lower floor of the house, while Tamura’s bedroom, where he 6
The symbolism of the tiled roof for Tamura will be discussed in Chapter Three. 42
enjoyed reading and writing his diary, was a small loft in the pitched roof of the house. 7 Unfortunately, the “mountain” of diaries which Tamura’s brother states was left behind on Tamura’s second call‐up was destroyed by his grieving sister, distraught when Tamura did not return home from the Southern battlefield. 8 In an interview for the 2003 NHK documentary, Saigo no Kotoba (2001, Last Words), 9 Tamura’s brother, Tamura Sadanobu, said that Tamura was a talented student who excelled at school. He attended school until he was 14 years of age when he left to work on the family farm. 10 In several of the final entries in Tamura’s diary, the memory of these school years acts as a sustaining force. More importantly, though, a number of reflective passages in the diary reveal Tamura’s regret that leaving school may have meant he was unable to achieve more in life. The implications of this regret will also be discussed in more detail later in this chapter. From an early age, Tamura revealed strong‐willed tendencies which ensured that he was not able to be easily coerced into submission. Rather than yield to 7
The house is still standing, and is used by Tamura’s brother as a retreat for his own diary writing. 8
Details pertaining to Tamura’s personal life are taken from the NHK documentary Saigo no Kotoba (2003, Last Words), about Japanese war diaries of the Pacific campaign, produced by Shigematsu Kiyoshi. See http://archives.nhk.or.jp/chronicle/B10002200090308160030137/. The documentary was aired on 7 December 2003. See also Shigematsu Kiyoshi and Watanabe Kō, Saigo no kotoba: senjō ni nokosareta 24‐
man ji no todokanakatta tegami. 156‐206. 9
See previous footnote for details. http://archives.nhk.or.jp/chronicle/B10002200090308160030137/. 10
Education practices between these periods will be discussed in Chapter Two. 43
his father’s wishes to remain on the farm, which would have been in keeping with accepted practice at the time, Tamura ran away to work for about six months in a factory in Oyama. During this time he also continued his schooling by means of a correspondence course. We will see that Tamura’s sense of determination and his tendency to question and criticize authority are evident in his responses to the actions of senior Imperial Japanese Army officers as discussed in Chapters Seven and Eight. In fact, the conflict caused by Tamura’s desire to fulfil his role as a foot soldier of the Emperor while remaining true to his own aspirations is a tension that underscores much of the diary. Before New Guinea Tamura Yoshikazu was, by his brother’s assertions, a prolific diarist. He had written diaries both as a civilian and as a soldier in his first call‐up to China. However, the only remaining diary of Tamura’s war experiences is the diary that is the focus of this thesis and which records his time in New Guinea. Tamura’s diary had been in the possession of an Australian soldier, Alan Connell, 11 who somehow acquired it during the 11
See Keiko Tamura’s description of Tamura’s diary at the Australia Japan Research Project website, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. 44
conflict in New Guinea. However, since the diary was discovered by Connell’s family only after the Australian soldier’s death, it is impossible to ascertain precisely when or how he came across it or whether or not Tamura was already deceased at the time.
The document came to the attention of Shigematsu Kiyoshi, who eventually was able to make contact with Tamura’s family in Japan and, in due course, the diary was repatriated to them. 12 The original diary is now housed in the family’s Buddhist altar. 13 Figure 6 The family Buddhist altar in the original Tamura home. Photographed March 2009. 12
A copy of the diary remains housed at the Australian War Memorial PR02305. 13
David Earhart notes that “remains of the dead are important for the Buddhist funeral service that transforms an impure corpse into a purified (benevolent) ancestor. Personal effects are placed within the family altar in the home [otherwise] the spirit is thought to wander between this world and the next, and can become a malevolent force.” Earhart, Certain Victory. 95. 45
Figure 7 Tamura Sadanobu and daughter with the original diary. Photographed March 2009 A Soldier’s Journey At the time of writing his New Guinea diary, Tamura was twenty‐five years old and 158.5cm tall, of average height for a Japanese soldier. He recorded his weight as 57kg and his chest size as 84cm. 14 From these measurements, it appears that Tamura was relatively well built, a point confirmed by photographs taken prior to his departure for New Guinea and held today by the family. When he wrote his New Guinea diary, Tamura was already a seasoned 14
See AJRP website http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. Soldiers had to be a minimum height of 155cm to be eligible for the draft. Drea, Edward J, In the Service of the Emperor: Essays on the Imperial Japanese Army (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1998). 78. 46
soldier, a two year veteran of the China campaign, 15 for which he had been drafted in 1939 at the age of twenty‐one. 16 Tamura’s unit was not engaged in combat in China, which may account for the photographs in the family album showing the young man as robust and apparently happy, enjoying a seemingly uncomplicated life at the China front. There are photos of groups of well‐equipped and neatly uniformed young soldiers, arms intertwined. Others are of postcard‐like images of young women dressed in western style clothes. There are also photographs of Japanese soldiers and Chinese farmers together, and even in these, remarkably, given the actions of the Imperial Japanese Army on the Asian mainland, everyone is smiling happily for the camera. The only apparent down‐side to Tamura’s tour of duty in China was that he was hospitalised with malaria which, as we shall see in Chapter Three, also plagued him in New Guinea. Nevertheless, photographs taken while Tamura was in hospital in China show him looking well cared for in a fairly efficient‐looking environment. 17 Tamura’s diary entries which look retrospectively to this period and which, as discussed in Chapter Four, form an important part of his reminiscences in New Guinea, support the assumption that his 15
The 238th Infantry regiment of the 41st Division, of which Tamura was a member in New Guinea, was first raised in Utsunomiya in September 1939. AJRP website, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. 16
Draft regulations are discussed in Chapter Two. 17
This photo album was viewed at Tamura’s brother’s house in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture, March 2009. 47
China experience was relatively unproblematic. Early in the diary, Tamura assesses “the present situation” as “much worse than China.” 18 These favourable China experiences contrast markedly with the horrors which confronted Tamura in New Guinea, circumstances that are completely at odds with what the young man expected prior to departing Japan for the South. Recollections of time spent earlier as a conscript on the continent appear in the diary as a motivating source of inspiration and as a means of desperately trying to affirm the worth of the doomed project in which he was involved in the Pacific. After being de‐mobbed following service in China, Tamura worked for a year and a half in factories in Tokyo. 19 During that time, he told Sadanobu he wanted to become a “salaryman,” asking him to take over the family farm. The brother notes that Tamura enjoyed his life in the city, even though by 1941 civilians were suffering considerable privations. However, Tamura’s dreams for the future ended when the intensification of Japan’s war effort led to Tamura’s second conscription in late 1942 20 with battlefield departure in January, 1943. 18
Tamura 23 中支戦線の当時より更に 不幸なる現況に情無し[…] 19
It is unclear whether this was his personal choice. 20
Soldiers who had been de‐mobbed remained on the list to be recalled to active duty. Straus, Ulrich, The Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POWs of World War II (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2003). 38. 48
Ulrich Straus notes that “[o]nce the war began in the Pacific, those recalled to active duty often went straight to their overseas assignments without any additional training and frequently without home leave.” 21 Tamura, too, had little time to farewell loved ones, although his unit did receive some training en route in Korea and China. While his destination remained secret, Tamura confided to his brother that, since the troops had been provided with only a summer weight uniform for a departure at the height of the Northern Hemisphere winter, it was clear that he was “heading South.” Although he returned relatively unscathed from his tour of China, Tamura was instinctively pessimistic about his chances of survival from this second round of conscription. In spite of Tamura’s feeling that his departure for New Guinea was likely to become his “last farewell to this life,” 22 there is no suggestion that he was reluctant to return to the battlefront. On the contrary, his diary entries clearly reveal a young man who proudly took up the role as a soldier for his country and who displayed a fervent desire to be involved in what he perceived to be a noble cause which would bring him personal glory under the banner of his beloved homeland. 21
Ibid. 38. 22
Tamura 28 これが今生の見納めと思へど 何と冷静なる心境であろう 49
Figure 8 Removed due to copyright
Map of Japan, Korea and China highlighting the areas mentioned in Tamura’s diary. On 5 January, 1943, Tamura was assigned to the 239th Infantry Regiment of the 41st Division of the 18th Army, 23 one of 4,000 infantrymen among 19,000 troops in three divisions. Departing his hometown, 12 January, 1943, he was despatched from Utsunomiya late at night the same day. He travelled by troop ship from Shimonoseki to Pusan, by train to Qingdao in north China, and by ship to Palau, arriving 10 February, 1943. There the regiment transferred to eleven transport ships under a ten cruiser escort 23
See Australia Japan Research Project website, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument.. 50
for their final destination of Wewak. 24 He records his journey on the first page of his diary. Figure 9 Page one of Tamura’s diary. 5 January: Enlistment into 36th Regiment 12 January: Departure from Utsunomiya 14 January: Disembarkation Pusan, Korea Enroute to Manchuria, North China 18 January: Arrival in Botou, North China 20 January: Arrival in Qingdao, North China Taking up camp at Sakuraoka Barracks 3 February: Embarkation 4 February: Depart Qingdao 10 February: Arrive Palau, Micronesia, Pay homage at Shinto Shrine 19 February: Depart Palau 22 February: Disembark Wewak, New Guinea Set up tent camp 25 24
Ibid. 51
This very first entry of the diary concludes with a verse that displays the tension that underpins many pages of the document. This is the tension created by Tamura’s simultaneously strong longing for homeland and an equally strong consciousness of himself as a foot‐soldier member of the emperor‐centred militaristic project that has led to his despatch to the Imperial Japanese Army’s Southern campaign. Beneath the branches of the palm trees, I long for my homeland. Gazing out to sea, I eat a banana. The Pacific Ocean March, 26 27
New Guinea Battlefront. 25
Tamura 1 一月 五日 東三六部隊入隊 一月十二日 宇都宮出発 一月十四日 朝鮮釜山上陸 満州北支経由北支着 一月十八日 北支泊頭着 一月二十日 青島着櫻岡 兵舎生活 二月 三日 上船 二月 四日 青島出発 二月 十日 南洋群島パラオ 着 神社参拝 二月十九日 パラオ発 二月二十二日 ニューギニア ウエワク 上陸天幕生活 26
Here Tamura refers to a popular gunka (war song) Taiheiyō Kōshinkyoku (Pacific March, 1939). This song is footnoted in Chapter Six. 27
Tamura 1 椰子の梢に故郷を 偲び海を眺めて ばなな食べ 52
Tamura’s division was responsible for guarding the area around Wewak, a strategic air and sea base. To his great regret, upon arrival he discovered that his primary task in Wewak was limited to air strip construction. 28 Although his unit was subject to Allied air attacks, Tamura would have no combat contact with the enemy. Before moving to a discussion of the diary itself and its record of Tamura’s life in New Guinea, it will be useful to consider the background to the diary writer’s enlistment in the Imperial Japanese Army and the Southern campaigns which saw Tamura’s unit despatched to engage in airstrip construction at Wewak. Becoming the Emperor’s Soldier Emiko Ohnuki‐Tierney argues that, in actuality, many families dreaded receiving the draft paper (akagami) because the implicit choice was either to go to war to be killed or to be killed by the military police if one failed to comply. However, 太平洋行進曲 ニューギニア戦線 28
See Australia Japan Research Project website, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. As will be discussed in Chapter Three, the role of airstrip construction was in fact a very vital one for the Japanese campaign in the South Pacific. 53
becoming a soldier was not always something from which young men shrank, 29 since soldiers from poorer backgrounds received better remuneration than would have been possible back in a rural village and could therefore supplement the family income with their military pay. In the early 1930s, the Imperial Japanese Army recruited through the compulsory conscription of twenty year old males, subject to a physical examination. 30 Until the latter half of 1937, only those who qualified as A level inductees (that is those who were in prime physical condition and who were taller than 155cm) were eligible to go into the draft “lottery.” According to Edward Drea, the very poor countryside and the cities provided the lowest number of draftees due to the requirement for top level physical fitness. 31 Frequently, the best “specimens” for recruitment would be those, like Tamura, from an agriculturally active rural background who had the “physical ability to endure the back‐breaking labour attendant to wet rice agriculture.” 32 29
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 176. 30
As the war continued towards its fateful end, the age and health restrictions were eased and older and less fit males were also recruited. See Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 79. 31
Those who did not qualify went to the B or C levels: First Conscript Reserve, providing “replacement fillers in wartime” or the Second Reserve, providing garrison replacements, and finally the National militia “which was almost everyone unable to meet the qualifications of first three categories.” There was, however, also a D level “for the physical and mentally deficient or those regarded as unsuitable for soldiers, including criminals and dwarfs, and E, a special category for those who were ill at the time of their annual physical.” See Ibid. 79. 32
Ibid. 79. 54
For poorer families, the prospect of a high death benefit to the families of soldiers who were killed in battle could be an attractive possibility. 33 The elite status associated with expectations of supreme physical fitness was also enticing. However, by the time Tamura was despatched to New Guinea, the status of draftees had declined because even quite unfit men were drafted, and the writer often laments his lowly status in the South compared to his time on the continent. In the early stages of the war, mass crowds, pomp and ceremony witnessed the departure of the soldiers for the front. Whole villages turned out, and each soldier was presented with a senninbari (thousand stitch cloth) as protection from harm. 34 This show of enthusiastic approval for the war and appreciation for the soldiers had disappeared by the time Tamura left for New Guinea, a point discussed further in Chapter Four. The Campaign in the South So Far Following victory at Pearl Harbour, Japan’s offensive in the South Pacific was further buoyed by successes in February, 1942, including the invasion of Java, the 33
Kushner, Barak, The Thought War: Japanese Imperial Propaganda (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2006). 134. 34
Earhart, Certain Victory. 391‐392. 55
surrender of Singapore and naval victory in the Java Sea. 35 By early March, it was decided to consolidate the occupied areas of the Southern resource belt by establishing bases in the Pacific which would then blockade supply between Australia and the United States of America. 36 The strategy was to continue coastal raids on Australia to weaken the strength of the Allied counter offensive. Although an argument had been made by the Japanese Naval General Staff to invade Australia, it was decided that, given the already compromised resources of the Japanese military, this was not feasible. 37 In spite of the fact that in April, 1942, United States Armed Forces units surrendered in Bataan and the Imperial Japanese Army invaded Central Burma, by May the tide began to turn against Japan with a decisive defeat in the Battle of the Coral Sea. Fought almost exclusively in the air, this battle was responsible for a massive depletion of Japanese aircraft in the area. 38 Defeat at the Battle of Midway followed in June, with Japan withdrawing from Guadalcanal in December, 1942, at the end of a prolonged and 35
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 225. 36
Ibid. 227. 37
For an informative paper on Japan’s interest in New Guinea see Frei, Henry. "Why the Japanese Were in New Guinea." Paper presented at the Remembering the War in New Guinea Conference, Canberra 2004. http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/remember.nsf/03e59ce3d4a5028dca256afb002a4ab9/d879e4837e327092c
a256a99001b7456?OpenDocument. http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/remember.nsf/03e59ce3d4a5028dca256afb002a4ab9/d879e4837e327092c
a256a99001b7456?OpenDocument. 38
Costello, John, The Pacific War (London: Pan, 1981). 254‐262. 56
exhausting battle. 39 Notwithstanding these losses, the Imperial Japanese Army still had Port Moresby in its sights, with the building of airfields in New Guinea a strategic element in the Japanese plans to dominate the Torres Strait and the Coral Sea. Attempts at securing Port Moresby were thwarted by “poor maintenance of food supply, lack of air support, stubborn resistance from the Australian forces, the failure of the Milne Bay campaign, and pressures from the Allied counter‐attack at Guadalcanal.” 40 Eventually, the defeats suffered by the Japanese in New Guinea resulted in a petition being made to the Emperor, which led to reinforcements being requisitioned for the region. 41 Late in December, 1942, just prior to Tamura’s despatch to New Guinea, sixty Nakajima Type 1 “Oscar” fighters reached Rabaul via Truk, with Imperial Japanese Army “heavy bomber units” also deployed from Burma. 42 According to Shindō Hiroyuki, in January, 1943, “the Army air forces were given the mission of supporting the ground 39
Tanaka Hiromi, "Japan in the Pacific War and New Guinea," in From a Hostile Shore: Australia and Japan at War in New Guinea ed. Steven Bullard and Tamura Keiko (Canberra: Australian War Memorial, 2004). 32. 40
Bullard, Steven, Japanese Army Operations in the South Pacific Area: New Britain and Papua Campaigns, 1942‐43 trans. Steven Bullard (Canberra: Australian War Memorial, 2007). “Translator’s Introduction”), v. 41
Ibid. 188. 42
Shindō Hiroyuki, "Japanese Air Operations over New Guinea," in From a Hostile Shore: Australia and Japan at War in New Guinea ed. Steven Bullard and Tamura Keiko (Canberra: Australian War Memorial, 2004). 64. 57
forces [in] New Guinea […] providing the air defence, and supporting the transport of supplies to New Guinea.” 43 This deployment of what eventually amounted to about one quarter of the Imperial Japanese Army’s air power was delayed due to the insufficiency of air bases in New Guinea. The construction of airfields for these bases was the task to which Tamura was assigned upon his arrival in the South. His base in Wewak was one of the most strategic in the Imperial Japanese Army’s campaign for New Guinea. Of the 350,000 Japanese soldiers deployed to the South West Pacific from 1942, only 130,000 – a little more than one third ‐ survived to return to Japan. 44 The Diary Figure 10 An example of a Japanese Army Issue Diary 45 43
———, "Japanese Air Operations over New Guinea during the Second World War," http://www.awm.gov.au/journal/j34/shindo.asp Journal article. 44
Zeitz, "No Half Hearted Soldiers." v. 45
http://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/japanese‐ww2‐guntai‐techo‐army‐infantry‐handbook‐1. 58
Tamura’s diary is written in a small bound notebook (techō), standard army issue. According to the Australia Japan Research Project (AJRP) website, the original document consists of about 160 pages, with entries spanning the eight months between April and December 1943. 46 Tamura commenced making entries in the diary in April, two months after his arrival in Wewak in February, 1943. By this time, his regiment had established itself – as far as was possible with only the most meagre of amenities ‐ in the jungles of New Guinea. Just before the final entry made some time after 8 December, 1943, Tamura recorded heavy shelling of the area by the Allied Forces. It is likely that he died during such a raid. 47 Figure 11 Removed due to copyright
Map of New Guinea highlighting the areas in which Tamura’s regiment was deployed 48 46
The transcribed diary consists of 143 pages. 47
A brief history of Tamura’s unit is provided by Keiko Tamura in her study of Tamura’s diary, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/AJRP2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256
b73000e4618?OpenDocument. 48
http://geography.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ/Ya&zTi=1&sdn=geography&cdn=education&tm=46&gps
=301_334_1420_534&f=00&tt=14&bt=1&bts=0&st=23&zu=http%3A//www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/papua_
new_guinea.html. 59
According to Keiko Tamura, between March and April 1943, Tamura’s unit was involved in airfield construction in the towns of Wewak and But. From April to June, the men were engaged both in airfield construction in Dagua and road construction from Dagua inland to Maprik. Between July and September, the unit moved back to Wewak where they continued with airfield construction. 49 Even though Tamura was not involved in hand to hand combat, his life was fraught with the burden of hard labour in an often intolerable environment and the constant threat of air raids from an enemy with far superior resources. One of the most intriguing although rather frustrating aspects of Tamura’s diary is that it is not written in chronological sequence. Furthermore, entries are written retrospectively as well as in immediacy. Both these factors create difficulties in following the sequence of events related. While pages two through seven relate to the diarist’s experience in New Guinea, page eight recounts Tamura’s time in Qingdao and is dated 28 January. These retrospective entries which detail Tamura’s travel to New Guinea through Korea and China, and then the ocean voyage to the South, are interspersed throughout the first section of the diary, often with the dates of events recorded rather than the 49
For more information on Japanese troop movements in New Guinea, see Australia Japan Research Project, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. 60
date of the day the entry is made. This propensity to reflect on memories is part of Tamura’s strategy to come to terms with and accept the ideology responsible for his being despatched to such a wretched environment. A war‐zone is not a stable site, and, as might be expected, Tamura’s entries are not written on a daily basis. On some of the earlier days, Tamura wrote more than ten pages per entry. The last dated entry occurs on 1 September on page 138 with the pages that follow recording intense action from enemy air raids and troop movements. While the final entry is not dated, since the second last entry is made on the second anniversary of the 8 December, 1941, attack on Pearl Harbour, we can assume that the diary’s final record was written not long after 8 December, 1943. 50 How Does Tamura Write? As shall be explored in later chapters, Tamura uses a prose style to narrate events, past and present. This prose is interspersed with 31 syllable tanka as well as short free style poems, both of which express the writer’s feelings and reactions to 50
According to the AJRP website, between October 1943 and February 1944 the regiment was mobilized to participate in the Finnisterre and Saidor campaigns in Madang, and may be the reason there were lapses in Tamura’s diary. See http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument. 61
events experienced in a manner reminiscent of classical Japanese diaries. 51 The diary uses a kanji and hiragana format, including in poems, which distinguishes the text from the more common kana diaries of men before and during the war. 52 Unsurprisingly, given his limited education, Tamura tends not to use classical techniques such as makurakotoba and kakekotoba. 53 Nevertheless, the vocabulary and grammar of the poetry he writes have an overtly classical quality. The discourse of Imperial Japan is a strong element of the diary, with a distinguishing feature of the text being Tamura’s acceptance of this discourse in conjunction with contradictory desire to express his individual self. Of interest, also, are descriptions of the alien natural environment and Tamura’s attempt to reconcile this landscape with the more familiar landscape of his home country, an aspect to be discussed in more detail in Chapter Five. The linkages in his poems between his feelings, his attitude to his fate as a soldier of the Empire, and the alien environment to which he had been despatched are variously ironic, nostalgic, confrontational and sympathetic, but always complex and revealing. 51
Tamura records over 100 poems in his diary. 52
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2008). Aoyama discusses the 16 kana diaries that are written in “kana as opposed to Chinese or Sino‐
Chinese.” 53
For a description of these devices, see Satō Hiroaki, Japanese Women Poets: An Anthology (New York: M E Sharpe, 2007). xxviii. 62
For Whom Does Tamura Write? Tamura Yoshikazu, and others like him, wrote their diaries in the knowledge that they would probably not survive. 54 The liminal space created by this uncertainty has the potential to provide the paramount conditions for Tamura to express himself without constraint. Undoubtedly, writing a diary afforded Tamura the opportunity to convey thoughts and feelings which may not have been possible to articulate by means of either the medium of letters home or the spoken word. 55 The companionship available to Tamura in the war environment was limited to fellow soldiers with whom the opportunity to create intimate relationships was controlled by both army regulations and the environment of the battlefield. The degree to which Tamura could share his innermost thoughts and feelings with his comrades without fear of reprisal was also severely limited by the fact that fellow soldiers were drawn from the same geographical region of Tochigi Prefecture. Local communities played an integral role in disseminating messages of the kokutai, with “patriotic and military educational functions [superimposed] at both the hamlet and village level.” 56 In other words, since 54
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. xiii. 55
Ibid. 3. 56
Smethurst, R J, “A Social Origin of the Second World War,” in Japan Examined: Perspectives on Modern Japanese History, ed. Harry Wray and Hillary Conroy (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983). 275. 63
the majority of troops with whom Tamura found himself in New Guinea had been subjected to a stringent regime of thought control, each was reluctant to publicly question the official line. Tamura himself points to his inability to discuss his situation with fellow soldiers when he writes, “I talk with my friend, but I wonder what he is thinking.” 57 In this instance, Tamura, who is self‐censoring in his interactions with his military comrades, understands the high likelihood that his comrades are doing the same. But does this mean that Tamura wrote the diary entirely for himself, without an audience in mind? That is, does the diary display the traits of “desert island discourse?” 58 Or, to borrow Peter Elbow and Janet Clarke’s terminology, does the audience “field of force” 59 exert a strong pull on the content of the text? Scrutiny of Tamura’s diary indicates that he wrote, if not for a specific audience, at least with others in mind. 60 In the opening stages of the diary, Tamura refers to writing previous diaries 57
Tamura 34 58
Taken from the title of the chapter by Elbow, Peter and Clarke, Jennifer, "Desert Island Discourse: The 語らう友の心ぞ如何に Benefits of Ignoring Audience," in The Journal Book, ed. Toby Fulwiler (Portsmouth: Boynton/ Cook Publishers, 1987). 19. 59
Ibid. 19. 60
Aaron Moore argues that diarists saw their diaries not only as a factual record, but also “a last will and testament.” Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 172. 64
and wonders what his father’s reaction would be to reading them now. 61 Midway through his diary he also reflects upon whether or not it would have been better to have burnt his home diaries and notes prior to departing for New Guinea. 62 This was something he had been reluctant to do and eventually decided against because he had “put so much thought” into his writing. 63 It is also likely that he regarded this material as something by which others might remember him should the worst occur. 64 The prospect of the diary remaining for the scrutiny of others creates the tension of producing a text which will reveal Tamura’s “real” sentiments as opposed to espousing viewpoints which he may have felt were expected of him. Tamura records letters in the diary which he has written to friends and family, letters that reveal a self‐
censorship not evidenced in the poetry or the narrative sections of the document. Jay Winter notes the universal tendency for soldiers to self censor in letters to “shield parents and others from some disagreeable features of war.” 65 The external gaze implicit 61
Tamura 12 62
Whilst Tamura doesn’t elaborate on this, it appears that this is due to the belief that documents such as 今頃父はどんな心で読んでくれるだろうか personal diaries keep the soldier attached to his current life. 63
Tamura 81 出征の際思ひつつのこせし 遺書や随筆はあれは 焼くに限る 64
Nishikawa Yūko, “Hito wa Naze Nikki wo Tsuzuru no ka?” 165. Nishikawa raises the issue of ownership upon the diarist’s demise. 65
Foreword by Jay Winter in Wiktop, Philipp, German Students' War Letters. trans. Phillip Wiktop 65
in letter writing ensures the complication of revealing the self whilst complying with the dictates of society. Tamura might feel compelled to conform to social norms, and anticipate a public viewing of his self, but he is equally driven during the production of the diary to divulge a more private self. In earlier conflicts, the authorities returned the battlefield remains of soldiers to their families. 66 However, as will be further examined in Chapter Two, by the time of the New Guinea campaign strains on resources made this impractical. It is uncertain whether or not Tamura was aware at the time of his departure for New Guinea that it was unlikely that his remains would be returned to Japan. However, Tamura reveals in his diary that he regarded the papers he left behind as an important legacy for his father. 67 Even if from the outset Tamura was writing with the hope that his words (Philadelphia: Pine Street Books, 2002). v‐vi. 66
David Earhart notes that “Japanese soldiers and their families were deeply disturbed by the suspicion that the cremated ‘remains’ of fallen soldiers returned to Japan contained something other than the actual remains of the deceased.” Earhart, Certain Victory. 95. 67
See Tamura 12 あの出征の際焼き捨てんとしたが生還を期せぬ我が心に幾分でも理解して戴くた
めにそっくり残した日記帳 又随筆帳 今頃父はどんな心で読んでくれるだろうか 未練がましいと思えばこそ唯一言の
別れもせず発って来た我 この身が白木の箱で還った時本当に我の子としての心が解かって貰えるだろう 又信じて来たあの日記なり 66
would reach his family, it is also evident that the diarist also often wrote for an audience of himself. As Tomoko Aoyama writes, “the very writing of a diary would seem inevitably to imply a reader […]. Does not a thirteen year old diarist write, if for no‐one else, at least for his or her future, older self as a reader?” 68 Tamura, then, is both the writer and the potential reader of his own words. In fact, Tamura uses the diary to conduct a self driven conversation in a manner reminiscent of the diarist and proletarian poet, Ishikawa Takuboku (1886 ‐1912), who, as Donald Keene notes, wrote “because he needed someone to talk to, and the diary served as a kind of audience for his perceptions.” 69 The issues relevant to this thesis are the degree to which the society of Imperial Japan and its ideology (kokutai) actually shaped Tamura’s innermost self, and the degree to which this is revealed in his diary. As Aaron Moore states, the diaries of soldiers “are textual incarnations of state discipline and were as effective as any institution analyzed by theorists of subjectivity and power” 70 at motivating behaviour. This brings us to the issue of truth in diaries, a dilemma which scholars such as Moore 71 68
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 18. 69
Keene, Donald, Modern Japanese Diaries: the Japanese at Home and Abroad as revealed through their Diaries (New York: Henry Holt and Co, 1995). 3. 70
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 166. 71
Moore has written two journal articles which examine the issue of truth in diaries. See both ———, 67
and Georges Mikes 72 find problematic in their examination of these texts. 73 To further borrow the words of Moore, “a diary contains whatever ‘truth’ its author believes to be relevant to the story he is telling about himself […]. Rather than viewing a diary as a window of truth […] scholars should consider the ways in which diarists used the text as a tool for defining who they were, regardless of whether the story they told about themselves was ‘true’ or not.” 74 While Edward Fowler sees the diarist donning a mask, 75 others ‐ including Gertrude Stein, 76 Geoffrey Summerfield 77 and Donald Keene, 78 ‐ insist "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War." Japan Focus (2009) and ———, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 165‐98. 72
Mikes wrote specifically of the diaries of public men who, he believed, wrote as propaganda for future generations. “The truth is that the diary, as such, is a basically and essentially misleading and dishonest way of writing. It gives the impression of being intimate, of revealing one’s innermost thoughts and closely regarded secrets. The reader has the impression of being allowed to catch a glimpse of a secret hidden world, a hidden sanctuary.” (June 1973, Times Literary Supplement), as quoted in Dobbs, Brian, Dear Diary: Some Studies in Self‐Interest (London: Elm Tree Books, 1974). 197. 73
See also Nishikawa, “Hito wa Naze Nikki wo Tsuzuru no ka?” 42. For more on “truth” in autobiography see Summerfield, Geoffrey, "Not in Utopia: Reflections on Journal Writing," in The Journal Book, ed. Toby Fulwiler (Portsmouth: Boynton/Cook Publishers, 1987), Chapter Three. 74
Moore, "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War." 13. 75
Fowler, Edward, The Rhetoric of Confession: Shishōsetsu in Early Twentieth‐Century (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988). 41. 76
Stein, Gertrude, Everybody's Autobiography (New York: Vintage, 1973). 292. 77
Summerfield, "Not in Utopia: Reflections on Journal Writing."33. 78
Keene writes that Arishima Takeo was able to record thoughts in his diary “that he probably would not have expressed openly” and that this was “one way of proving his distinctiveness as a human being.” Keene, Donald, Modern Japanese Diaries. 405. 68
that the diary gives the true voice of the diarist’s innermost, authentic self. 79 In Tamura’s diary, both tendencies are evident. Uncovering the diarist is problematic unless the constraints and influences operating on his or her work are fully understood. In fact, those constraints surely form a vital part of who the diarist finally reveals as himself. Writing under the gaze of a totalitarian regime or an all‐encompassing ideology is not unique to citizens and soldiers of Imperial Japan. Indeed, the working of ideology on the thought processes of the soldier or the citizen is eloquently described by Jochen Hellbeck who wrote on diaries written under the Stalinist regime. Hellbeck argues Rather than a given, fixed, and monologic textual corpus, […] ideology may be better understood as a ferment working in individuals and producing a great deal of variation as it interacts with the subjective life of that particular person. […] Ideology should therefore be seen as a living and adaptive force; it has power only to the extent that it operates in living persons who engage 80
their selves and the world as ideological subjects. Although written in response to a different social and political context, Hellbeck’s words 79
Donald Keene, commenting on the diarists he presented in his book, wrote “few diarists intended from the start to publish their diaries. They hoped that people of the future would read them […] but they clung to the idea of the diary as a personal and private document. ”Keene, Donald, ed., So Lovely a Country will Never Perish (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010). 8. 80
Hellbeck, Jochen, Revolution on My Mind: Writing a Diary under Stalin (Cambridge, Massachusetts, London, England: Harvard University Press, 2006). 13. 69
give useful insights also into aspects of Tamura’s diary and the relationship between the writer and the social ‐ and ideological ‐ discourses within which he operated. For the purpose of this thesis, Tamura’s words have been read as he himself presents them, rather than focusing on what commentator on totalitarian regimes, Hannah Arendt (1906‐1975), contends are the “cracks and silences” that are often the focus of studies on writers of these regimes. 81 Arendt wrote that “the sources talk and what they reveal is the self‐understanding as well as the self‐interpretation of people who act and who believe they know what they are doing.” 82 This being the case, Arendt argued that to “deny them this capacity and pretend that we know better and can tell them what their real ‘motives’ are or which ‘real’ trends they objectively present ‐ no matter what they themselves think” ‐ is to rob subjects of “ the faculty of speech, insofar as speech makes sense.” 83 Ultimately, Tamura was his own censor who manipulated and fashioned his world of both environment and ideology to facilitate commitment to his role as a loyal soldier of the Japanese Empire. In order to clearly recognise the influences that motivated this commitment, and, by extension, the ideas expressed in the diary, we will examine the concept of the gaze of the society that 81
Arendt, Hannah, "On the Nature of Totalitarianism: An Essay in Understanding," in Essays in Understanding, ed. Jerome Kohn (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1994). 338‐339. 82
Ibid. 338‐339. 83
Arendt, "On the Nature of Totalitarianism: An Essay in Understanding." 338‐339. 70
operated under the kokutai’s auspices. Tamura, like the writer Anton Chekhov (1860‐
1904), who, in Czarist Russia, wrote under what he felt was a distinctive societal gaze, was able to paint “accurately the effects of the social dilemma of the time, the mood of disillusionment and suspense.” 84 The Influence of the Kokutai Gaze Since Tamura was schooled under the pre‐war era’s oppressive kokutai system which became more and more tyrannical as the 1930s progressed, it is understandable that there is a strong presence of discourse of this nature in his writing. However, it is not necessary to be a member of the Japanese Imperial Army to feel constrained by the discourses of the politico‐military power to which one is beholden. 85 This point is made clear in the account by former United States marine, Anthony Swofford, of his involvement in the Gulf War. Noting that “[w]hen you are speaking that thing, you speak like it,” 86 Swofford believed his role was to espouse that which was expected of him by the United States authorities. In other words, he needed to conform 84
Chekhov, Anton, The Personal Papers of Anton Chekhov, trans. S.S. Koteliansky and Leonard Woolf (New York: Lear, 1948). Introduction by Matthew Josephson, 22. 85
Hellbeck notes that those writing diaries under Stalinist Russia wrote “into the revolutionary narrative as an individual belonging to the larger whole.” Hellbeck, Revolution on My Mind. 12‐13. 86
Swofford, Anthony Jarhead: A Marine’s Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles (New York: Scribner, 2003). 14. 71
to the ideology expressed in the vernacular of the Marine Corps history and lore. For Swofford, the ability to vocalize his lived experience was tempered by the role he believed society, and more particularly, the army, expected him to play. Swofford may have acquiesced with the dictates of the imposed socio/military gaze principally out of a perceived need to conform. In the case of the Japanese soldier, however, this gaze often became associated with an “imagined community honour,” 87 supporting Hellbeck’s view that those associated with totalitarian campaigns did, in fact, immerse themselves in their world as ideological subjects. The extreme degree of conformity to official beliefs and practices necessary for those in the Japanese military was identified in the post‐war era as early as 1946 by scholars such as Americans, Howard Brotz and Everett Wilson. 88 Kazuko Tsurumi concurred when she wrote that The aim of any military socialization was the internalization of compulsion to such an extent that the socialized individuals would feel that they were acting 89
of their own volition while in fact they acted under coercion. For Tamura, too, the gaze of authority is much wider than the military alone. One 87
Ikegami Eiko, The Taming of the Samurai: Honorific Individualism and the Making of Modern Japan (London: Harvard University press, 1995). 18. 88
Brotz, Howard and Wilson, Everett, "Characteristics of Military Society," The American Journal of Sociology I, no. 5 (Mar 1946). 372. 89
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 97. 72
question to be considered is how much of his compliance to this gaze was an expression of his innermost, private self, shaped by that societal gaze, as opposed to a public persona or mask donned purely for consumption by others. The imagined honour or dishonour that is associated with the community gaze is perhaps best encapsulated in the concept of seken, that is, the network of social interactions surrounding the individual in society. Sociologist, Lebra Takie Sugiyama, explains “the seken other” as “equipped with its own ‘eyes’, ‘ears’, and ‘mouth’, watching, hearing and gossiping about the self.” 90 This brings to mind Foucault’s disciplined society which lives under the shadow of the panopticon gaze. 91 There is little doubt that during his education and training, Tamura would have been unable to escape the influence of the ubiquitous kokutai through the omnipresent gaze of the seken. Entrenched in his psyche, this discourse became an instrument of self‐observation, with “the observer [becoming] the self‐observed,” 92 so that he, too, begins to “speak that thing.” 93 Moore argues that “servicemen practically borrowed from the popular accounts of soldiering, allowing these foreign voices to define their own; in doing so they were directing 90
91
Lebra, "Self in Japanese Culture." 105, 120. For more on this concept see Foucault, Michel, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. Alan Sheridan (London & New York: Penguin, 1991), particularly 195 ‐ 228. 92
Spender, Stephen, "Confessions and Autobiography," in Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980). 118. 93
Swofford, Anthony Jarhead. 14. 73
themselves toward state and military mobilization goals.” 94 Nishikawa Yūko points out that copying state sanctioned slogans into diaries was an effective means of self motivating toward the state’s goals. 95 While Tamura does not take his commitment to the social discourses of the time quite this far, he certainly used language influenced by and associated with these slogans. Moore also points out that adhering to state sanctioned goals in the writing of diaries assisted in the self motivation of the troops. 96 We will see in the ensuing chapters that Tamura frequently returns to the lexicon of the kokutai in order to remain motivated in his role as a soldier of Imperial Japan. The need to balance the expression of individual thoughts and feelings with social discourse is reflected in Jennifer Sinor’s observation that diarists “decide what to leave in, what to take out, and what to encode. And these decisions ensure that the writers are engaging in a conscious act of self‐construction.” 97 Moore, too, notes that “a close reading of diaries reveals that the author, whether writing a ‘public’ or ‘private’ text, plays an active role in selecting the materials that compose his 94
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 185. 95
Nishikawa, “Hito wa Naze Nikki wo Tsuzuru no ka?” 201. 96
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 185. 97
Sinor, Jennifer, The Extraordinary Work of Ordinary Writing: Annie Ray’s Diary. (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2002). 39. 74
subjectivity.” 98 According to Hellbeck, the continuous tension created by producing a text that is both public and private results in diarists being required to “[confront] and [work on] the voice of their not fully conscious mind and body to enable their true moral ‘self’ to emerge.” 99 Tamura, who in difficult circumstances, and under the ever‐present gaze of an officialdom increasingly obsessed with ensuring compliance of thought and action to the Imperial will, “simultaneously displays and withholds” 100 himself to construct a textual self which may become the subject of this external gaze. And this brings us to the contents of the diary. What Does Tamura Write? As previously noted, a distinguishing element of Tamura’s diary is that it does not follow events in sequence. The first entry which provides some clue to the fact that it is written in April is recorded on page 5, some three months after the writer departed Japan and has been in the difficult New Guinea surrounds for more than a month. This delay was possibly due to the fact that Tamura’s unit was initially mobile with little opportunity for reflection. The diary does not give a record of daily activity nor 98
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 194. 99
Hellbeck, Revolution on My Mind. 359. 100
Nussbaum, Felicity A, "Towards Conceptualizing Diary," in Studies in Autobiography, ed. James Olney (New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988). 137. 75
does it contain any information of a strategic nature. Tamura rather reflects on his purpose in life, both as a soldier and as a citizen of Japan. As we will explore in subsequent chapters, musings of this nature are often accompanied both by memories of the past and by a re‐coding of the environment of New Guinea in order to re‐create a familiar landscape. Since lack of communication from home is a major threat to morale for Tamura, he combats despondency by copying letters and magazine articles into the diary. While the presence of the enemy, be it the perils of the jungle or the superior air power of the Allies, is a feature of the diary, a more important subtext is Tamura’s attempt to reconcile the requirement for a noble death with his own desire to lead a fulfilled life. We have noted that Tamura’s entries are punctuated with poetry which he uses to express deep and otherwise difficult to articulate feelings and emotions. Marleigh Ryan wrote that “the Japanese author places a higher value on emotion [and] writes out of the belief that emotion is the core of man, and that to express that emotion is the most important function of art.” 101 While Tamura’s limited education would at best have given him only minimal familiarity with the art diaries discussed by 101
Ryan, Marleigh, "Modern Japanese Fiction: "Accommodated Truth"," Journal of Japanese Studies 2, no. 2 (1976). 255‐56. 76
Earl Miner, 102 he certainly follows the format of these diaries by punctuating his narrative with poetry. Tamura’s practice of writing a narrative account of events followed by a heartfelt expression of emotion through poetry accords with Miner’s assertion that “after prose has said all it can, or all that it is decent for it to attempt, poems rise to have their say. […] The prose of the diary is not merely an excuse for the poems; but the poems are not also a mere decoration.” 103 The outpouring of emotion in verse that characterises Tamura’s diary permits the reader to access a self‐dialogue by the writer that is often revealing in its commentary. The subtext informing the soldier’s diary must always be the presence of death. Ohnuki‐Tierney’s study of the diaries of tokkōtai (literally, “special attack corps,” popularly referred to as “suicide attack”) pilots examined how these young men struggled to come to terms with their imminent deaths. She argued that the diaries played an important role in reconciling the violent emotions generated by the irrevocable demand to give their lives for the state. 104 Tamura’s motivation to leave a 102
Miner states that “The poems vary in number and importance with the individual work, depending in considerable part on whether it is a narrative or recording diary, but it seems clear that poetry is conceived of as the most basic or purest literary form and that its presence, almost alone, is enough to change a journal of one’s life to an art diary.” Miner, Earl, "The Traditions and Forms of the Japanese Poetic Diary," Pacific Coast Philology 3 (1968). 44. 103
Ibid. 46. 104
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 21. 77
record of his time in New Guinea is undoubtedly strengthened by the ongoing presence of death around him. 105 Not surprisingly, death, one of the key themes of this thesis, is a prominent theme in Tamura’s text. Furthermore, the high likelihood that he, too, will meet his death in the New Guinea jungle ensures a frankness and openness in the diary that provide valuable insights into the thoughts of one young conscript of Imperial Japan. This brings us to the reasons that Tamura may have decided to write. Why Does Tamura Write? Writing on the diaries of people in extraordinary circumstances, Aoyama argues that “the obsession for inscription evidenced in many of the diaries […] seems to consist of a variety of motives – to prove that one is still alive, to satisfy artistic aspirations, to leave a record for future generations, or to defend the very means of writing itself.” 106 Sy Kahn, an American soldier diarist from the same New Guinea conflict, felt “I would not survive the war and I wanted to leave a record that perhaps might reach my family and friends after my death.” Like Kahn, Natalie Crouter, a woman interned by 105
The prison diaries of Kanno Suga and Kaneko Fumiko are also highly influenced by the notion of impending death. An excellent account of this is provided by Raddeker, Helene Bowen, Treacherous Women of Imperial Japan: Patriarchal Fictions, Patricidal Fantasies (London and New York: Routledge, 1997). 106
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 45. 78
the Japanese as a prisoner of war in the Philippines, wrote to leave a record for her children and ultimately for future generations. 107 Tamura, too, wrote so that those close to him whom he had left behind in Japan might know something of what he had experienced. We have noted the need to investigate the complexity of Tamura’s attempts to reconcile his commitment to the kokutai with the desire for personal achievement. The textual self that Tamura constructs is conditional on a number of factors including the socio‐historical context under which the writer’s self was formed, 108 the environmental conditions under which he writes his diary, 109 and the audience for whom the diary is intended. It is thus marked by the tension created by choosing what can safely be revealed and what must be suppressed. Tamura’s struggle in this respect recalls the words of Kume Masao, who noted when writing on the I‐novel that to represent truly never means to depict the material as it is. There must be condensation. One should condense the self [watakushi] – unite it, filter it, concentrate it, stir it, then reproduce it.
107
110
Bloom, Lynn Z., ed., Natalie Crouter: Forbidden Diary, Women's Diary Series (New York: Burt Franklin and Company, 1980). xi. 108
This aspect will be examined in detail in Chapter Two. 109
This aspect will be examined in detail in Chapter Three. 110
Kume Masao, "Watakushi shōsetsu to shinkyō shōsetsu," in Gendai Nihon Bunka Ronsō Shi, ed. Hirano Ken, Odagiri Hideo, and Yamamoto Kenkichi (Tokyo: Miraisha, 1956), Suzuki Tomi, Narrating the Self: Fictions of Japanese Modernity (California: Stanford University Press, 1996). 54. 79
This process is discussed also by Donald Keene who concludes in this discussion of the diary of Arishima Takeo (1878‐1923) that this text was Arishima’s attempt to “discover his individuality.” 111 The most dominant of the social discourses which circulated around Tamura was that of the kokutai. However, this should not necessarily be regarded as something that was forcibly imposed on Tamura. As later chapters will show, in spite of its politically constructed nature, this set of ideal thoughts and behaviours that defined the exemplar subject of Imperial Japan provided through its familiarity a degree of solace for Tamura. As the all‐encompassing discourse of the time, the kokutai is Tamura’s starting place and the strength of his dependency on its tenets is evident in his ability to unravel and recreate it for himself in difficult conditions. Death as an inevitable outcome of this war for Tamura is softened and made more palatable by adherence to the dictates of a state ideology which offers the promise of becoming a hero in the name of the most noble of causes. Tamura’s diary is characterised by a lack of strategic information or of information identifying manoeuvres undertaken. This can present a conundrum for the reader as it is often difficult to discern just where Tamura is when making an entry. 111
Keene, Modern Japanese Diaries. 405. 80
Enemy bombing raids are recorded, sometimes with a sense of anticipation, sometimes with ambivalence, and sometimes with palpable fear. Although commentary regarding the enemy is relatively scant, it serves to remind the reader that the entries in this diary were, in fact, recorded in a war‐zone. 112 While on the one hand Tamura’s life in New Guinea was not conducive to the writing of a diary, on the other hand the difficulty of the environment provided the motivation for Tamura to continue to engage in diary writing in order to remain committed to the requirements of the kokutai in a very alien landscape. His diary, like that of Sy Kahn, serves as an account of one man’s attempt to create some sense of reality and familiarity in “a world impossibly strange and remote.” 113 The juxtaposition of the familiar with the unfamiliar is a constant thread through its pages. Bloom writes in the editorial introduction to the diary of Natalie Crouter Confined persons are often prolific diarists. Such persons may be physically confined or restricted to a limited existence, physical or psychological, for protracted periods – because of illness, imprisonment, geographic isolation, or emergency conditions. They may be in a threatening, unfamiliar or uncongenial environment where they have little if any control or freedom to pursue their customary activities. Enforced routine or exceptional leisure may 112
Tamura’s reactions to the enemy will be discussed in Chapter Seven. 113
Kahn, Sy M, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary (Urbana and Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993). Foreword. xi. 81
allow them an unusual amount of time for reflection.
114
Tamura, though not a prisoner, was certainly a “confined person” experiencing “geographic isolation” as a soldier with limited freedom under “emergency conditions.” Despatched to the completely alien tropical jungle of New Guinea, Tamura was stripped of all of the landmarks of home, including, importantly, the environment that would have been conducive to keeping a diary. Although it is questionable whether Tamura’s lifestyle in New Guinea would have permitted the time for the reflection to which Lynn Bloom refers, diary writing for Tamura became part of his life’s routine. We might recall that, even prior to his service in New Guinea, Tamura was an avid diarist. Although it was common for farmers to keep journals recording information such as the weather, planting, cropping and harvesting times, and although journal writing was also a well‐
established practice in schools in pre‐war Japan, 115 it is the prolific nature of Tamura’s diary writing that is noteworthy. It is also helpful here to examine the strong presence of diary writing within the wider Japanese literary tradition. Diary writing has a long history beginning at least as early as the literary and travel diaries of the Heian era. While many diaries of the 114
Bloom, ed., Natalie Crouter: Forbidden Diary. xi. 115
For a detailed account of diary practices in Japan, see Moore, "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War." 1‐2. 82
Heian era are the product of onnade (the woman’s hand), there was also a strong tradition of male diary writing as exemplified by the tekibae or notebooks of the warrior class and the nisshi or diaries of bureaucrats. 116 Diaries have been particularly evident in the modern military also, with the war diaries (jinchū nikki/ nisshi) kept during the Meiji era campaigns setting a precedent for military diaries of the modern era. The idea of field diaries (gunjin nikki) was suggested to the Japanese military by their Prussian advisers, and these were kept by a regimental officer as a record of strategic and climatic information. 117 The education system during Meiji also instituted a system of student diaries that were reviewed by both teachers and parents through the nikki kensa, or diary inspection, process. 118 Donald Keene notes that by the end of the nineteenth century “the writing of diaries had become so common a feature of Japanese life as to require no special explanation.” 119 Diary writing, then, was not an unusual practice among pre‐war Japanese, and it was quite common for soldiers to keep diaries. Writing on this practice during the Asia Pacific War, Ohnuki‐Tierney argues that writing is important as a “mode of 116
Ibid. 1. 117
Ibid. 1. 118
Ibid. 1. 119
Keene, Modern Japanese Diaries. 2. Emiko Ohnuki‐Tierney concurs that writing as a mode of communication was very important in Japanese life. She states that “diary keeping has been an important cultural practice in Japan since the Heian period.” Kamikaze Diaries. 3. 83
communication in Japanese life.” 120 She points out that “in a culture in which verbal communication in the form of debates, dialogues, or oratory is not well developed, writing is the most serious mode of communication, and many individuals express their innermost thoughts and feelings in written form. 121 As we have already noted, there is a collection of the copies of translated captured diaries of Japanese military personnel housed at the Australian War Memorial Research Centre. Tamura suggests that others among his battalion also wrote diaries when he records his own discovery of a (presumably dead) comrade’s abandoned diary containing a letter to the man’s wife. 122 Donald Keene points out that while American soldiers were forbidden to keep diaries, Japanese soldiers and sailors were issued with diaries every New Year and were “expected to write down their thoughts each day.” 123 Aware that these diaries might be inspected by higher officers, the pages were often filled with patriotic 120
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 3. 121
Ibid. 3. 122
Tamura 71 捨て行き志 戦友の日記を ひもとけば妻の便りぞ心打つらん 123
Keene, ed., Chronicles of My Life. 37. Aaron Moore also notes that diary writing had become a tradition among the military, “following the Russo‐Japanese War (1904‐5), officers such as Tamon Jirō published theirpersonal diaries in order to teach military men about proper soldiering. [...] The war (1937) […] led to even greater opportunities for diary writing among servicemen; publishers mass produced “army diaries” (gunjin techō) specifically so that troops shipping off for duty would have a space to record their thoughts and experiences […] The appearance of other texts such as “Holy War Diaries” (seisen techō) signalled an increasing diversification of media interests profiting from servicemen’s desire to pen self‐narratives.” Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 170. 84
slogans. 124 Keene argues that this would only occur while the servicemen were still in Japan. 125 However, Tamura’s diary, which features considerable reference to official discourse in entries made at the front ‐ that is, after departing Japan ‐ does not actually bear this view out. Keene believed that once in the reality of the Southern battlefront “there was no element of deceit. He [the soldier] wrote what he really felt.” 126 Aaron Moore also argues that there was less likelihood of regular examination of diaries in the heat of the battlefront, and that the size of the pocket notebooks used for diaries “made furtive diary writing possible, if sometimes challenging.” 127 In the case of Tamura, however, the freedom to write that came with the miserable conditions of his posting saw him seek solace in, rather than reject, the official discourses of Imperial Japan. The war as the backdrop for Tamura to undertake a deeper inner search for self recalls Earl Miner’s assertion that “we must distinguish between those diarists who respond more fully to public events such as war or natural disasters, and those who 124
Aaron Moore notes that “guided or peer‐reviewed diary writing practices had been in existence in East Asian militaries […] and the title often given to training diaries for officers and pilots was, in fact, ‘Record of Self‐Reflection’ (hanseiroku).” Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 166. See also Nishikawa, “Hito wa Naze Nikki wo Tsuzuru no ka?” 40. 125
Keene, ed., Chronicles of My Life. 37. 126
Ibid. 37. 127
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy .” 169. 85
concern themselves with private events.” 128 Miner further notes that, since Japanese diaries are often characterized by being “private or diurnal” rather than being accounts for public record, their vision of what is most significant largely filters out those events that men share in a public context.” 129 Never a mere record of events, the Japanese diary needed to find universality “by articulating human concerns such as the family, love, death, nature or time.” 130 In Tamura’s diary, too, daily events are merely the backdrop for deeper engagement with nature, philosophy and also with the personal emotions, such as grief, anger and disappointment that prevail on the battlefield. Daily work activities also provide a framework for engaging with the dominant discourses of Imperial Japan. Tamura Yoshikazu, as mentioned previously, had a need to write. Writing under the shadow of war was neither a chore nor merely a routine for him. There are a number of factors which might explain the motivation to continue to make diary entries in the difficult circumstances of the New Guinea battlefield. Firstly, writing was cathartic and permitted the diarist to create a “sane [centre] in an often lonely, dangerous, 128
Miner, "The Traditions and Forms of the Japanese Poetic Diary." 38. 129
Ibid. 38. 130
Ibid. 38. 86
insecure and violent world.” 131 In many respects, the diary becomes a highly idealized world, resonating with the words of Linda Anderson, who, when discussing the invalid diarist, Alice James, understood that, “What she is doing here is finding a place inside herself which is outside the roles offered to her by society.” 132 Like Alice James, Tamura, too, sought to find in his diary “a point of balance between inner and outer, a momentary fullness, as memory ‘crowds’ [the] mind, pushing [the writer] at the same time into and out of being.” 133 In Tamura’s case, the diary provides an opportunity for the writer to escape the harsh reality of life, and to recreate also the familiarity of his previous existence. Given the chaotic environment into which Tamura is plunged, it is not surprising that this process of catharsis is episodic and fragmented. Marleigh Ryan observes that “throughout its history the most striking characteristic of Japanese literature has been the use of what might be called discontinuity […] thoughts are interrupted in midstream; an image or even a whole series of images associated by sensory perception rather than meaning may intervene between two obviously 131
132
Kahn, Sy M, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. xv. Anderson, Linda, "At the Threshold of the Self: Women and Autobiography," in Women’s Writing: A Challenge to Theory ed. Moira Monteith (New York: St Martin’s Press 1986). 61. 133
Ibid. 87
connected events in a narration.” 134 In the case of Tamura’s diary, this tendency is exacerbated by the circumstances of the war‐zone. Tamura is aware of the less than ideal organisation of his entries and occasionally castigates himself. All I ever write is rubbish, Hopelessly bad. What a sad waste of paper.
135
His random jottings of mundane incidents that are of no real consequence are similar to Terry Eagleton’s “phatic” language of pub conversation in that they focus on the “the act of communication itself.” 136 In spite of occasional outbursts of self‐contempt, we have nonetheless noted above that Tamura also wanted this document to relate his experiences to those who are left behind. However, the futility of life in the New Guinea war zone gave rise to a more compelling need, that of self‐motivation in order to ensure self‐maintenance. In an environment where the ability to create dialogue with another was limited, the vehicle of the diary allowed Tamura to engage in the self‐dialogue necessary 134
Ryan, Marleigh, "Modern Japanese Fiction: ‘Accommodated Truth’." Journal of Japanese Studies 2, no. 2 (1976). 257. 135
Tamura 70 駄作ばかりどんなにかいても 下手ばかりこんな紙損する 事ぞ淋しく 136
Eagleton, Terry, Literary Theory: An Introduction, second ed. (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1996). 11‐
12. 88
for the writer to motivate himself in response to the challenges he faced. The diary is the catalyst for Tamura to discover his own emotions, although his observation to the effect that “I seem to be very sensitive, but I don’t actually understand my emotions at all” 137 indicates that this process is not necessarily without complication. Other diarists who have been placed in similar circumstances have utilised the diary as a tool for self‐revelation. Rose Kamel writes of two Jewish diarists from the Second World War, contemporaries of Anne Frank, who were forced by the impending Holocaust “to examine and revise the premises on which they based their sense of self.” 138 Frequently, the self Tamura attempts to uncover conflicts with all that he has internalised from the external gaze of society. Nevertheless, like the women discussed by Kamel, Tamura uses the diary to “[tap] into inner resources […] to resist self‐fragmentation” and to enable a “chaotic existence some measure of order.” 139 The diary in fact allows Tamura to order his world so that he can refashion his environment to something more familiar which will provide a sense of stability in a highly unstable world. 137
Tamura 76 138
多感の様でその実何の感情も 分からざる Kamel, Rose, "Interrupted Lives, Inner Resources: The Diaries of Hannah Senesh and Etty Hillesum," Women's Studies Quarterly 17, no. 3/4 (1989). 45. 139
Ibid. 46. 89
An integral part of a sense of self‐maintenance and of the ability to “bring some measure of order” to a “chaotic existence,” is an ability to self‐motivate. Moore, for example, writes that “Japanese servicemen frequently used their diaries as a space for “self‐mobilisation,” encouraging themselves to be brave, castigating their lack of initiative, or even demanding of themselves the “ultimate sacrifice” of death. 140 In performing this self‐mobilisation, Tamura engages in what Adrienne Rich refers to as re‐visioning that is, he undertakes “the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new critical direction as an act of “survival.” 141 Rich believes that until “we fully understand the assumptions on which we are drenched we cannot know ourselves.” 142 Tamura’s juxtaposition of his immediate past with his now difficult present allows him to continue to re‐gather his personal resources to move forward in the manner expected by the authorities. The ability to self‐reflect allows Tamura to recognize that “[after] more than half a year at the battlefront [and] a life unimaginable to cultured people, we have willingly achieved a mental state transcending privation.” 143 This, for Tamura, is “surely 140
Moore, "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War." 8. 141
Rich, Adrienne, "When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re‐Vision," College English 34, no. 1 (1972). 18. 142
Ibid. 18. 143
Tamura 135 戦線半歳有余の生活は 文化人の想像し得ざる様な 90
man’s highest achievement.” 144 It is perhaps one of the most telling statements in his diary because it is the culmination of Tamura’s search to reconcile his own corporeal desires as an independent human being with the ideal being that is the devoted and loyal subject of the Empire. The tension generated by this conflict and Tamura’s attempt to resolve the contradiction between the “main‐line” of his public self and the “sub‐
line” 145 of his private self informs the close reading of the diary that follows. While both the possibility of survival and return to Japan are unlikely, Tamura continues to use the vehicle of the diary in the way Bloom suggested as “a valuable means of maintaining a necessary sense of self, of being in touch with external reality, of recognizing a continuity of life within and beyond confinement.” 146 Similarly, Donald Keene writes that “in a diary changes in the author occur quite naturally, as he imperceptibly sloughs off old skin and 生活にもかかわらす我等は 唯なければ無いで通ずる心境を 体得し不自由とせざる所 確かに人生の最大の収穫なり 144
Tamura 135, as per the last line in the quote in the previous footnote. The relevance of this statement for Tamura will be made more apparent in Chapters Seven and Eight. 145
Tamura 126 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 主線と副線とに精神を分ければ やや副線の方が伸びすぎると 思った This aspect will be examined in detail in Chapter Eight. 146
Bloom, ed., Natalie Crouter: Forbidden Diary. xi. 91
becomes a different person.” 147 This thesis, therefore, will consider how, while operating within the surveillance regime of the panopticon society of wartime Japan, Tamura grapples with the challenge of representing himself, while also complying with the discourses of Imperial Japan. The path Tamura takes delves into senses of Self as are eloquently described by Mushakōji Saneatsu (1885‐1976), who declares that “the Self embraces the following desires [yokubō]: desires as an individual [kojin], desire as a social animal [shakaiteki dōbutsu], desire as a human being [ningen]” 148 Tamura will attempt to follow Mushakōji’s suggested strategy “to harmonize and fulfil these desires as much as possible.” 149 This thesis does not aim for any “final reading”, nor does it aim to overlay meaning onto Tamura’s observations. Rather, the reading of Tamura’s experiences as a soldier, infused as they are with the intersubjectivity described by Rita Felski as “personal experience awash with social and political meanings,” 150 allows Tamura to reveal himself through “the mediating forces of the stories, metaphors, myths and images” 151 which leap from 147
Keene, Modern Japanese Diaries. 391. 148
As quoted in Suzuki Tomi, Narrating the Self: Fictions of Japanese Modernity. 95. 149
Ibid. 228. 150
Felski, Rita, Uses of Literature (Malden, MA, USA, Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2008). 16. 151
Ibid. 16. 92
the pages of his diary. His skilful ability to re‐vision, re‐fashion, and re‐remember the Japanese landscape, the Japanese environment and carefully selected memories of the past will provide him with the tools and motivation to remain grounded in what will be an impossibly alien and hostile world. In his search for equilibrium, Tamura creates for himself an idealized world which enables him to comply with the requirement of the ultimate sacrifice of his life as ordained by the ubiquitous kokutai ideology. Chapter Two will interrogate this kokutai ideology to establish the socio‐political framework from which Tamura’s diary will be examined. . 93
Chapter Two Kokutai, Death and a Sense of Country for Soldiers Introduction As we have noted in the introduction to this thesis and in Chapter One, the kokutai discourse, as one of the distinguishing features of militaristic Imperial Japan, was a major influence on Tamura’s diary. Tsurumi Shunsuke observed that the kokutai “derived from the fundamental insularity and isolation of the Japanese” and “served as a powerful linguistic weapon for both attack and defence of the period 1931 ‐1945.” 1 This chauvinistic ideology glorified death as the ultimate sign of honour, masculinity and virility, and promised eternal deification for those who followed its teachings. The term kokutai literally translates as “the body of the nation,” although the common English expression given is “national polity.” 2 However, there was no shared understanding of the meaning of the term, which continues to be a source of debate among scholars. 3 The one certain constant in the kokutai ideology was the glorification of death in the name of the Emperor of Japan. Evidence of the manner in which the 1
Tsurumi Shunsuke, An Intellectual History of Wartime Japan: 1931‐1945. 23. 2
Ibid. 23. 3
In fact Robert N Bellah terms it as “the almost untranslatable term for the quintessence of Japanese particularity. See Bellah, Robert N, Imagining Japan: the Japanese Tradition and its Modern Interpretation (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2003). 118. 94
concept was progressively honed in the pre‐war era to inculcate soldiers in the way of death emerges in various passages throughout Tamura’s diary, as does the relationship between death and the Emperor. Tamura’s commitment to this ethos is repeatedly emphasized in statements such as: “I feel I have found the true manly way. I will sacrifice my life for the Empire.” 4 In this thesis I will use the term kokutai to mean the overarching ideology which used as its basis the mythological origins of Japan and drew upon a sense of national uniqueness embodied in the concept of yamato damashii (Japanese spirit) to foster a belief in soldiers of the ultimate sacrifice of their lives in the name of the Emperor as a noble cause (taigimeibun). 5 This chapter will interrogate the motif of the 4
Tamura 13 意気男子として本当の道を 発見した様に清清しい心だ 死して皇国に殉ず 55
Both terms taigi and taigimeibun were used in Imperialist Japan to describe the concept of ultimate sacrifice for a just cause. The term taigimeibun was coined with the publication of the Taiheiki in the late 14th Century. Originally the term taigi was “a reasoned grasp of moral duty achieved only after intense and sustained study and thought, uninfluenced by prejudice, temperament, or jumping to conclusions.” Mass, ed., The Origins of Japan's Medieval World: Courtiers, Clerics, Warriors, and Peasants in the Fourteenth Century 332. The revision of sovereign and daimyo relations during the Tokugawa Period also revived the term taigimeibun, meaning in this case “the great principle of names and duties” originating from the Confucian idea of the relationship between names and titles within hierarchy. “Each person, from the Shogun down to the lowest retainer, had to observe his station and fulfill assigned duties as a way of expressing loyalty to superiors.” Lamberti, "Tokugawa Nariaki and the Japanese Imperial Institution: 1853‐1858." 103‐104. Earl Kinmonth argues that the term actually means taigi “great duty” and meibun “justice.” See Kinmonth, "Fukuzawa Reconsidered: Gakumon no Susume and its Audience." 95
Emperor as a pivotal focus of the kokutai, and the fundamental insistence that loyalty to the Emperor meant that soldiers would die on his behalf. I will approach the kokutai discourse as a form of national landscape – a set of ideas that provided an ever‐present background and foreground for the actions of the subjects of wartime Imperial Japan. I will also argue that death is an ever‐present element hovering chillingly above this national landscape. The concept of unique physical landscape formed an important basis of the kokutai. Since this aspect heavily informs Tamura’s diary, landscape as a unifying trope in his writing will be further explored in this chapter. In particular, the chapter will demonstrate how the creation of a spiritual and physical landscape under this discourse provided Tamura Yoshikazu with an abiding sense of country. In order to do this, we will examine the emergence, dissemination and reception of kokutai discourse in pre‐war Japan. 694. Donald Calman argues that, in fact, the concept of taigimeibun relates to the concept of “historical justification.” He states that “it was important [post Meiji] to justify their actions […] to posterity and to their gods.” Calman, The Nature and Origins of Japanese Imperialism: a Reinterpretation of the Great Crisis of 1873. 136. 96
The emergence of the kokutai – the re‐creation of ancient myth As the enduring social and spiritual “landscape” in which Japanese soldiers were located, the kokutai discourse proclaimed Japan’s uniqueness, racial homogeneity, divine origins and sublime environment. These elements combined to create for the Japanese a sense of country (a term I will use here instead of the broader term “nationalism”), and, I will argue, a sense of self. 6 My use of the term “sense of country” includes nationalistic concepts such as “national consciousness” (especially national pride), “national ethnocentrism” (including xenophobia), and “national aspirations” (national self‐interest), all of which were factors in the development of the kokutai. 7 It is helpful here to recognise some universal aspects of the determination of a sense of country. The three most relevant of these to the Japanese case were what Lowell Barrington terms “the creation of the unifying features of the nation” and “actions that result from the beliefs of the group,” 8 together with Daniel Druckman’s assertion that there is also inherent a sense of involvement in common actions on behalf of the group, termed “goal involvement,” 6
I use this terminology in favour of the more general term “nationalism.” 7
These terms are borrowed from Terhune, Kenneth, "Nationalism among Foreign and American Students: An Exploratory Study," The Journal of Conflict Resolution 8, no. 3 (1964). 256. 8
Barrington, Lowell, “’Nation’ and ‘Nationalism’: The Misuse of Key Concepts in Political Science," Political Science and Politics 30, no. 4 (1997). 714. Italics in the original. 97
linked to sense of reward for these actions which he terms “ego involvement.” 9 Each of these aspects centre on a shared belief in the familiar, which may have evolved, or have been implanted, created or even imagined. 10 Regardless of its derivation, it is this shared familiar that forges people together to work towards agreed or enforced aims under a sense of country. The three significant aspects of the re‐creation of shared imagery in Japan were a restoration of the Imperial myth, a reinstatement of the idea of the sublime nature of Japan’s environment, and the recasting of the yamato spirit in a form which would mean a commitment to death. As is evident in Tamura’s diary, the ego involvement of soldiers manifested as their seeming willingness, and even burning desire, to make this ultimate sacrifice as “man’s true calling.” 11 The Motif of the Emperor as a Symbol of Sacrifice In its simplest form, kokutai was a construct created to facilitate the unification of modern Japan. The appellation used during the Meiji period to describe the action taken was go‐ishin, meaning “renovation”, which, used in conjunction with 9
Druckman, Daniel, "Nationalism, Patriotism, and Group Loyalty: A Sociological Perspective," Mershon International Studies Review 38, no. 1 (1994). 63. 10
See Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities. 11
Tamura 123 男子の本懐之に過ぎず 98
the honorific go implied “from above.” 12 From the outset, then, the restoration of the Emperor and the creation of Japan’s kokutai was not a democratic process, with events that unfolded in the years leading to the Pacific War confirming the fact that, in advocating an Emperor‐centred state, the Meiji oligarchs created a political template which largely excluded popular participation. 13 Although the creation of a state with a monarch at the helm is not unique to the Great Empire of Japan, the Japanese state distinguished itself from similar administrations by according divine status to the head of state. 14 This figure of the divine Emperor was a permanent fixture in the foreground of the kokutai landscape. In defining Japan as a constitutional monarchy headed by an Emperor, the Meiji Constitution furnished the Emperor with a ritual role similar to that of a deity. In fact, as already noted, Article 3 declared that the “Emperor is sacred and inviolable,” a god in living form (arabitogami). 15 Kang Sangjung points out that the emphasis in the modern era on the divinity of the Emperor was an extension of the thought of Tokugawa 12
Tsuzuki Chūshichi, The Pursuit of Power in Modern Japan, 1825‐1995 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). 54. 13
See Matsumoto Sannosuke, "The Significance of Nationalism in Modern Japanese Thought: Some Theoretical Problems," The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 1 (1971). 52. 14
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 12. 15
Ibid. 85‐91. 99
kokugaku scholar, Motoori Norinaga (1730‐1801). 16 Norinaga declared that Japan was “god’s country” (shinshū) 17 and that Japan’s uniqueness stemmed from the fact that she had never been conquered, and, therefore, had a single line of Emperors. 18 The adoption by the Meiji oligarchs of this aspect of Norinaga’s xenophobia, which foregrounded the spiritual superiority of an Emperor directly descended from the mythical creators of the land of Yamato, was fundamental to the establishment of kokutai discourse. 19 Since the divine Emperor was geographically bound to Japan and to Japan alone, the people of Japan were increasingly led to believe that, as his subjects, they, too, held a unique place in the world. 20 Japan as the Sublime The reinstitution of the Emperor as a divine and inviolable sovereign was accompanied by the elevation of Shintō to the status of state religion. This led to the unification of rites and government (saisei itchi), perceptively labelled by Harootunian as 16
Kang Sangjung, Nashonarizumu. 40. 17
Tamura also refers to Japan as Shinshū in a stirring piece on page 14 of the diary: “I suddenly see the victory of the land of the gods” 我が神洲の勝どきと見る 18
Kang, Nashonarizumu. 40. 19
Kang Sangjung, Nashonarizumu. 44. 20
Ibid. 68. 100
“governance‐as‐worship.” 21 The most important aspect of Shintō for the Meiji rulers was the creation myth of the Emperor Jimmu as a descendant of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu, which revealed the origin of the Emperor. As a nativist belief system, Shintō also fostered an attachment to the natural physical environment, to the beauty and awe of nature in Japan, which the early chronicles such as the Nihonshoki (720, The Chronicles of Japan) referred to as “Central Land of Reed Plains.” 22 Later documents, such as the Jinnō Shōtōki (1338‐1341, Chronicle of the Direct Succession of Gods and Sovereigns), written by Kamakura court scribe, Kitabake Chikafusa (1293‐1354), 23 contained passages such as the one that follows which described Japan in a way which would be repeatedly appropriated by modern administrations from Meiji onwards. Japan is the divine country. The heavenly ancestor it was who first laid its foundations, and the Sun Goddess left her descendants to reign over it forever and ever. This is truly only of our country, and nothing similar may be found in foreign lands. That is why it is called the divine country. 24 21
Harootunian, Harry D, Things Seen and Unseen: Discourse and Ideology in Tokugawa Nativism. (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1988). 383‐384. 22
de Bary, Wm Theodore, ed., Sources of Japanese Tradition, Introduction to Oriental Civilizations (New York, London: Columbia University Press, 1958). “All the Central Land of Reed Plains is now fully tranquilized.” 19. 23
de Bary, Wm Theodore, ed., Sources of East Asian Tradition, vol. 1 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008). 739. 24
Ibid. 810. 101
This discourse of a unique Japan became one of the principle pillars of the kokutai teachings that constituted and was constitutive of the myth of the divine Emperor descended from the gods. While there was no specific mention of nature or landscape in the Meiji Constitution, 25 these tropes became key elements of kokutai discourse during the 1890’s. According to Julia Adeney Thomas, In early Meiji political discourse, the West frequently appears to have laid implicit or explicit claim to universal nature, whether nature meant constitutionally insured national rights, or evolution towards the full expression of nature’s political, economic, and social goals. 26 This meant that “the concept of nature had to be brought inside Japanese culture and reclaimed in order that it would serve the local political agenda.” 27 To take ownership of nature, “nature was acculturated.” 28 This occurred in a similar way to the re‐
invention of the Emperor system. If the Emperor was unique to Japan, then, in the same way, nature, too, had to be interpreted as “immanent rather than external […] stripped 25
Thomas, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 167. 26
Ibid. 167. 27
Ibid. 168. 28
Ibid. 168. 102
of its universal connotations” 29 so that it pertained particularly, and exclusively, to Japan. In order to facilitate this process, ancient texts were re‐discovered, and contemporary texts were produced. 30 Shiga Shigetaka (1863‐1927), geographer, botanist, editor of the influential journal, Nihonjin (The Japanese), and author of the classic text, Nihon Fūkeiron (1894, Japanese Landscape), 31 was particularly vocal in his assertions that Japan should “recover its rightful feeling for its natural landscape” and its “rightful feeling of national pride.” 32 After embarking on a voyage to the South Pacific to undertake botanical research, Shiga determined that “Japan’s destiny was tied to her fortuitous geography.” 33 He wrote passionately that The influence of all environmental factors of Japan, her climate, her weather conditions, her temperature and humidity, the nature of her soil, the configuration of her land and water, her animal and plant life and her landscape, as well as the interaction of all of these factors, the habits and customs, the experiences, the history, and development of thousands of years – the totality of all these factors has gradually, imperceptibly, 29
Ibid. 169. 30
In particular the Tokugawa text, Jikokushi (The History of the Land and People), first published in 1701. Ibid. 172. 31
An excellent examination of Shiga is provided in Gavin, Masako, Shiga Shigetaka, 1863‐127: the Forgotten Enlightener (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2001). 32
Thomas, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 172. 33
Ibid. 103
developed in the Japanese race inhabiting this environment as unique kokusai. 34 Declaring that “a love of nature could be harnessed to form a new base for cultural identity in Japan,” 35 Shiga urged his countrymen to urgently “establish geographic thought” in order that they might “continue being independent.” 36 Nature, then, was critical to the sense‐of‐country discourse. 37 The country’s unique topography as declared in the ancient chronicles was increasingly emphasised in order to support the political objectives of the newly emerging nation state of modern Imperial Japan. Nature, in fact, would be “the reflective surface that would make it a narcissistic mirror for the nation.” 38 Maruyama Masao argues that “a love of fatherland, expressed pre‐eminently as a love of one’s native place which in turn 34
Shiga translated the term kokusai as nationality. Thomas, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 27. Gavin writes that “critics such as Awai Tadakuma, Maeda Ai, Mita Hirō and Satō Yoshimaru, have claimed that Nihon Fūkeiron was an Imperialistic document that may have influenced the Japanese towards the excess of patriotism that culminated in the war.” Shiga Shigetaka, 1863‐127: the Forgotten Enlightener. 27. 35
Gavin, Shiga Shigetaka, 1863‐127: the Forgotten Enlightener. 36. 36
Ibid. 36. 37
Pyle, Kenneth B, The New Generation in Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural Identity, 1885‐1895. (Stanford California: Stanford University Press, 1969). Kenneth Pyle argues that Nihon Fūkeiron was “one of the most widely read books among students in the latter half of the Meiji Period.” 161. 38
Thomas, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 176. 104
is an aspect of love of the environment” 39 was pivotal in the psychological structuring of Japan’s sense‐of‐country. Through this “love of country” discourse, Japan was effectively constructed as a utopia unparalleled in its magnificence. For the Japanese, there was a seamless connection between the geographical and topographical references in the mythical narratives that supported the kokutai and their immediate environment. However, for soldiers such as Tamura, despatched to other parts of the Empire – or territories that Japan desired to acquire ‐ where the physical landscape differed dramatically from that of Japan, this seamless connection was in danger of rupture. Since the physical landscape played an important role in the shaping of a sense of country, operating outside of its material presence would make maintenance of faith in the kokutai more challenging. In Chapter Five we will examine how, by drawing on indigenous Japanese imagery associated with climate and nature and also by drawing on fragments of his memory, Tamura will attempt to re‐mould his current location as something resembling his homeland, enabling the continuation of his commitment to Japan’s Imperial project in the alien New Guinea environment. We will also examine how this physical landscape provided the backdrop for a discourse of death. 39
Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. 144. 105
Man’s Greatest Calling: the Dark Side of Yamato Damashii We have already noted an obvious progression from the idea that Japan was endowed with a unique and superior natural landscape to a belief that the Japanese people themselves were the bearers of a unique and superior spirit. This spirit was the embodiment of yamato damashii. Originally fostered as a contrast to Chinese learning, 40 the phrase yamato damashii referred to the delicate and more feminine sensitivities of the Heian court. 41 Michael Carr, for example, notes that The Tale of Genji (c 1007 ‐1021, Genji Monogatari) contrasted yamato damashii “Japanese spirit” with Chinese zae, “learning.” He goes on to explain how these two opposing elements developed eventually into the literary expression wakon‐kansai "Japanese spirit, Chinese learning." 42 However, as the modern era emerged, the term took on a strongly chauvinistic flavour. The very ideal of yamato damashii was in fact one of “ethnic adulation.” 43 This resonated closely with the idea of an acculturated natural environment of Japan. Not only were Japanese nature supreme, and the people unique as children of 40
Carr, Michael, "Yamato Damashii: Japanese Spirit Definitions," International Journal of Lexicography 7, no. 4 (1994). 279. 41
Saitō Shōji, Yamato damashii no bunkashi (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1972). 4. 42
Carr, "Yamato Damashii: Japanese Spirit Definitions." 279. 43
Ibid. 281. 106
the Emperor, but also the overall spirit of Japan was one unmatched anywhere in the world. This unique spirit was believed to “give Imperial subjects supreme determination and the ability to overcome all obstacles.” 44 This is reflected in a poem Emperor Meiji composed espousing the fearlessness and gallantry that was bestowed on members of the unique Yamato clan. The valor of the Yamato heart When faced with a crisis Its mettle proves 45 The intrinsic link between yamato damashii and the myth of the Imperial family was made very clear in a military speech captured by the Allies. The Imperial family is the light, the life, the pride of Japan. In truth, Japan is Japan and the Japanese are the Japanese because of the Imperial family. From this consciousness, the Japanese spirit is born. A loyalty which utterly disregards the safety of the home and family, even one’s own life, for the welfare of the country is born. This special Japanese spirit is something peculiarly Japanese. […] We who possess this special Japanese spirit can accomplish our duty; but those who do not have it, perform only a superficial duty. 46 44
Gilmore, Allison B, You Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific (Lincoln & London: University of Nebraska Press, 1998). 53. 45
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 13. 46
ATIS SWPA R.R. no 76 pt 2 “The Emperor Cult as a Present Factor in Japanese Military Psychology”, 21 June 1944, p11, Box 119. The actual location of the capture of this document is not stated. 107
In addition to demonstrating the Imperial connection with yamato damashii, in its exhortation to “utterly [disregard] the safety of the home and family” and “even one’s own life,” the passage further elucidates the way in which the original aesthetic ideal associated with the term yamato damashii was now linked to a dark affiliation with death. The increasing militarisation of Japan saw the “nationalistic glorification” of yamato damashii. 47 Ancillary to this process was the establishment of State Shintō, which permitted indigenous beliefs to be manipulated and reconstructed in a manner that had little to do with the local rituals practiced in provincial areas. 48 In order to enhance the requirement of soldiers for their death, Shintō was skewed away from its origins as a life affirming belief system with inherent ritualistic cleansing and purifying traditions, to an ideology that supported the notion that the most purifying experience was death in war. As John Dower argued, “once war and dying well became established as honourable practices […] death assumed connotations of purity and transcendence, and the ablution that purified could be the bath of blood itself.” 49 As the Japanese 47
Lebra, Takie Sugiyama, Japanese Patterns of Behavior (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1976). 163, as quoted in Carr, "Yamato Damashii: Japanese Spirit Definitions." 48
Fridell, Wilbur, "A Fresh Look at State Shinto," Journal of American Academy of Religion 44, no. 3 (1976). 547‐561. 49
Dower, War Without Mercy. 231. 108
Empire’s militarist and expansionist policies became more and more ambitious, the promotion of State Shintō was intensified. 50 Disseminating Kokutai ideology How did the kokutai narrative come to have such a strong influence on soldiers of the Japanese Imperial Army? Richard Mitchell’s assertion that the obsessive drive of the kokutai through successive administrations to “indoctrinate […] subjects in the way of the Emperor,” is instructive. 51 In order to ensure the compliance of subjects with the ideological basis of the new Emperor centered state, the Meiji government used the education system and other social institutions to institute a series of socio‐
political reforms through the promulgation of Imperial Rescripts and other public statements of desired subject behavior. This process was replicated by succeeding administrations. Imperial Rescripts, which charted the course of Japan through the formative years of Meiji into the expansionist period of early Shōwa, played a key role in the eventual spiritual indoctrination of citizens and, particularly, soldiers. The main 50
Fridell, "A Fresh Look at State Shinto." 547‐561. 51
Mitchell, Richard, Thought Control in Pre‐war Japan. 67. 109
focus, couched in language which emphasized the uniqueness of Japan’s “landscape,” was always on the requirement for the diminishment and sacrifice of the self. Even more importantly, these rescripts “completed” the establishment of the kokutai discourse with the metanarrative of the Emperor at its core in that they now defined citizens (kokumin) as the Emperor’s subjects (shinmin). 52 Significantly, the rescripts meant that the discourse which increasingly defined the “spirit of Japan” now had a statutory form (meibunka). 53 A number of key innovations are elaborated upon below. Conscripting the Emperor’s Armed Forces One of the most important actions taken by the Meiji government was the institution of universal conscription to create a loyal army for the re‐established throne. 54 Since this was the first time that the right to bear arms had been afforded to those outside of the warrior class, 55 conscription also assisted in dismantling the feudal 52
Kang Sangjung, Nashonarizumu. 56. 53
Ibid. 54
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 29. The January 10, 1873 conscription ordinance “provided for seven years of military service: three on active duty and the remainder in the reserves.” Exempted were “heads of households, or heirs, students, government bureaucrats, and teachers.” 55
See Matsumoto Sannosuke, "The Significance of Nationalism in Modern Japanese Thought: Some Theoretical Problems." 53. 110
system of social organisation that had characterised the previous era. 56 While the slogan “enrich the country, strengthen the military” (fukoku kyōhei) 57 made it clear that Japan’s desire for military strength was associated with the accumulation of capital, a sense of godliness, too, was evident, with the men who fought in the Emperor’s army, or kōgun, being referred to as divine soldiers, shinpei. 58 The supreme expression of loyalty on the part of these divine soldiers was to lay down their lives for their Emperor. Emiko Ohnuki‐
Tierney, in fact, goes as far to say that “universal conscription in reality meant an extension of an equal right to death to all males.” 59 This statement alluded to the fact that only samurai had been required, or even permitted, to be soldiers before Meiji. Now it was the obligation of all. One of the first statements directed towards the Emperor’s forces was the 1882 Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors (Gunjin Chokuyū). 60 The opening paragraph foregrounded the mythical and thus divine origins of the Emperor when it stated: “The forces of our Empire are in all ages under the command of the Emperor […] 56
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 1853‐1945. 29. 57
Matsumoto Sannosuke, "The Significance of Nationalism in Modern Japanese Thought: Some Theoretical Problems." 51. see also Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 75. 58
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 81. 59
Ibid. 81 Italics in original. 60
The propensity for Japanese to rely on manuals to guide their behaviour is outlined in Ichinose Toshiya, Meiji, Taishō, Shōwa guntai manyuaru: hito wa naze senjō e itta no ka (Tokyo: Kōbunsha, 2004). 9. 111
the Emperor Jimmu […] subjugated the unruly tribes of the land and ascended the Imperial throne to rule over the whole country.” 61 In addition to identifying Imperial divinity, the document clearly defined the Emperor’s role as military chief of staff: “The supreme command of Our forces is in Our hands, and although We may entrust subordinate commands to Our subjects, yet the ultimate authority We Ourself shall hold and never delegate to any subject.” 62 Clearly defined, too, were the obligations of the members of the armed forces under the command of this military divinity: “Whether We are able to guard the Empire, and prove Ourself worthy of heaven’s blessings and repay the benevolence of Our Ancestors, depends upon the faithful discharge of your duties as soldiers and sailors.” 63 This wording effectively bound those undertaking military service to a direct relationship with the Emperor, a relationship that was elsewhere in the document expressed in a corporeal metaphor: “We are your supreme Commander‐in‐Chief. Our relationship with you will be most intimate when We rely on you as Our limbs and you look up to Us as your head.” 64 Edward Drea argues that the 61 Monbushō, The Imperial Precepts to Soldiers and Sailors. 3. I have chosen to use the title Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors in this thesis. 62
Ibid. 4. 63
Ibid. 5. 64
Ibid. 112
1882 Rescript “would shape official popular ideology and the notion of duty and loyalty to the Emperor.” 65 The enthusiasm of the authorities for subjects to embrace the message delivered in the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors was evident from the requirement that all members of the Emperor’s armed forces memorise the document. This set a precedent for the committing to memory of all subsequent Imperial Rescripts, 66 with the effect that ensuing proclamations virtually became mantras for the people. 67 This strategy awakened the general public to the new kokutai discourses that had gained ascendancy while also integrating them into the tennōsei system that these discourses supported. 68 The Rescripts that followed became the central means by which the authorities could remind the masses of the critical role now played by the Emperor. 69 The Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors remained the foundation of 65
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 52. 66
Ibid. 82. 67
Kang, Nashonarizumu. 61. 68
The Meiji constitution actually placed the Emperor in the position of constitutional monarch, which meant he had no real powers of decision making. It was the spiritual relevance of the Emperor established through these Rescripts which progressively afforded status to the Emperor. See Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. 354. 69
Kang, Nashonarizumu. 61. 113
military training until 1945 and the end of the Pacific War. The requirement for recruits to memorize this document was no mean task, given the complex language and exceptionally difficult kanji. 70 For rural recruits, particularly, whose education had often been interrupted by seasonal duties on the family farm, reading and memorizing the 2700 characters was undoubtedly especially onerous. In addition to this insistence on memorization, the Rescript was read in its entirety to troops on special occasions such as National Foundation Day (11 February) and Army Day (10 March). 71 On these occasions, troops were expected to bow in the direction of the Imperial palace as a sign of deep respect for the Emperor. 72 The Imperial Rescript on Education (Kyōiku Chokugo), promulgated in 1890 and considered by the authorities as the perfect expression of the kokutai as the spiritual essence of Japan, 73 had an even wider sphere of influence. 74 Drawing heavily on the narratives of the Kojiki (712, Record of Ancient Matters) and the Nihonshoki, the main 70
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. The difficulty was that the document was “a long 2700 character document distinguished by such obscure kanji that it was difficult even for college students to read.” 82. 71
Ibid. 82. 72
Ibid. 82. Tamura noted the continued routine of bowing to the Imperial Palace even in the jungles of New Guinea. See Tamura 78 点呼の宮城遥拝も北向き 73
Kasulis, T P, Shintō: The Way Home (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2004). 139. Kasulis agrees that the unification of state and Shinto provided a spiritual essence to the kokutai. 74
The universal education system had been established in 1872 under the Education Act of that year. See Wray, Harry and Conroy, Hillary, eds., Japan Examined: Perspectives on Modern Japanese History (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983). 31. 114
purpose of this document was to further strengthen devotion to the Emperor. This document, too, emphasised the spiritual uniqueness of Japan when it stated that Our Imperial Ancestors have founded our Empire on a basis broad and everlasting, and have deeply and firmly implanted virtue; our subjects ever united in loyalty and filial piety have from generation to generation illustrated the beauty thereof. This is the fundamental character of our Empire. 75 While ostensibly for the purpose of educating children in schools, the content of the Imperial Rescript on Education focussed heavily on what was required of the Emperor’s armed forces. 76 Once again, the deeper requirement was loyalty to the point of death. The Rescript dictated that “should emergency arise [citizens must] offer yourselves courageously to the state [and] render illustrious the best traditions of your forefathers.” 77 The degree of reverence with which the Rescript was regarded was attested to by J. Paul Goode in a 1910 report compiled during a visit to the United States by Baron Kanda, Professor of English in the Peers’ School in Tokyo. According to Goode, the Japanese people regarded the Imperial Rescript on Education as The Lord’s Prayer, 75
Monbushō, The Imperial Rescript on Education (Tokyo: The Department of Education, 1909). No page numbers given. 76
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 161. “Conscripts in the 1920s had to recite an abbreviated version of the Rescripts […] by 1934, they had to recite in total.” 77
Monbushō, The Imperial Rescript on Education. No page numbers given. 115
The Ten Commandments, and The Declaration of Independence, all in one. 78 The Kokutai as Dysfunctional Military Family The relationship between the Emperor and his subjects was further strengthened by the notion of kazoku kokka (family nation), which implied that reverence and loyalty to the Emperor as head of the nation was an extension of the filial piety and loyalty expected towards one’s parents (chūkō icchi). 79 In a rejection of western values and a re‐valorisation instead of the Confucian principles that had operated in feudal Japan, 80 the nation was thereby perceived and promoted as one extended family. This process was clearly apparent in The Imperial Rescript on Education which had not only emphasised family bonds by reminding subjects of the need to “be filial to your parents, affectionate to your brothers and sisters; as husbands and wives be harmonious, as friends true,” 81 but also by requiring subjects to offer themselves 78
Goode, J Paul, "Some Fundamental Principles of Japanese Education," The School Review 18, no. 9 (Nov 1910). 365. 79
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 78. 80
Isolde Standish states that “the Civil Codes of 1898 and 1912 legally established the family as the basic unit of the nation‐state and not the individual as in western judicial law.” See Standish, Isolde, Myth and Masculinity in the Japanese Cinema: Towards a Political Reading of the Tragic Hero (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2000). 29. 81
Monbushō, The Imperial Rescript on Education. 116
courageously to the state should an emergency arise. 82 Loyalty to the Emperor (chū) combined with loyalty to the family (kō) were together considered as “the spiritual flower (seika) of the ‘national body’ (kokutai).” 83 The family loyalty inherent in Confucian practice had been extended to become total loyalty to the throne. This dual requirement of loyalty at the levels of family and state was, in fact, interspersed with demands for commitment to other levels of social administration including landlords, heads of village organisations (which by this time had been incorporated into the reservist network), school principals and local mayors. In essence, all of these loyalties led to the apex that was loyalty to the Emperor. 84 In particular, soldiers from rural areas were heavily influenced by these values, with clear evidence in Tamura’s diary that this young man from rural Japan could sometimes find the notion of loyalty to the Emperor more inspiring than any notion of loyalty to the family. The concept of family also operated in the military itself, with draftees told that they were entering into a new family relationship in the army. Call up letters 82
Maruyama Masao observes that “it is noteworthy that the Imperial Rescript on Education should have been proclaimed just before the summoning of the First Imperial Diet. This was an open declaration of the fact that the Japanese State, being a moral entity, monopolized the right to determine values.” See Maruyama, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics, 5. 83
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 78. 84
Smethurst, Richard J, A Social Basis for Prewar Japanese Militarism: The Army and the Rural Community (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1974). 163. 117
opened with “greetings” to the father and elder brother and promised that: “When your son and brothers enter the barracks, the officers of the company will take your place in looking after his welfare. We will be to him as a stern father and a loving mother.” 85 The expectations that loyalty at the family level would be transferred to the barracks and that the military would take on a care‐taker role for soldiers was, however, frequently shattered by the reality of daily life in a war‐zone. As we will explore further in Chapter Seven, and as is apparent from Tamura’s diary, ranking within the army was highly regulated, and the emphasis was largely on discipline for discipline’s sake. The aim of the strict discipline instilled by the army was “to guarantee absolute obedience to a superior’s orders and [to] instil unquestioning compliance as a reflex or habit in the tractable soldier.” 86 While Tamura does not report any physical maltreatment, the practice of beatings and abuse, well documented elsewhere,87 was rationalised as a means “to reform the personality by making unquestioning obedience second nature.” 88 The categorical acceptance of authority made it possible for soldiers, at least on the face of it, to accept also the requirement for death. 89 However, Tamura’s 85
Lory, Hillis Japan’s Military Masters: The Army in Japanese Life (New York: The Viking Press, 1943). 25. 86
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 68. 87
See Chapter 6, in Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 88
Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 83. 89
Straus, The Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POW's of World War II. 33. 118
diary reveals a strong sense of disillusionment with the inequities apparent within the military ranking structure in New Guinea that undermined his faith, if not in the system itself, then certainly in those charged with its implementation. As part of indoctrination into the military, soldiers were assailed with myths from the past by way of spiritual training (seishinkyōiku ) which drew heavily on motifs associated with the code of the samurai. 90 The bushidō essence of the samurai era, reconstructed by the military authorities to inspire the new spirit of the soldier, was characterised by an emphasis on death over life, glorification of an honourable death in battle, and, most importantly, death on behalf of one’s lord, in this case, the Emperor. 91 Again, texts from the past were revived to foster the spirit of self sacrifice to the death that the military required. A prime example was the Hagakure (1709‐1716, Hidden by the Leaves), a series of anecdotes and reflections which were used as a code 90
Victoria, Brian (Daizen) A, Zen at War (New York and Tokyo: Weatherhill, 1997). “In The Essential Points of Supreme Command (Tōsui Kōryō) issued in 1928, the term Emperor’s army or kōgun was used officially for the first time[…]The year 1928 also marked the debut of a series of books and pamphlets devoted exclusively to developing the military spirit. The first, issued by the Inspectorate General of Military training, was entitled A Guide to Spiritual Training (Seishin Kyōiku no Sankō). This was followed in 1930 by The Moral Character of the Military (Bujin no Tokusō).” 115. 91
The term 殉じる is used frequently by Tamura, and means to die as a martyr, to sacrifice oneself. It is closely related to the term 殉死, which means to follow one’s lord into death. It is of interest here that death for one’s lord was only in the case of the lord having been defeated in battle and not as a common requirement of the samurai. Kanno Kakumyō writes that, in fact, bushi is an occupation, not an ideology, and that bushidō as reinvented during the Meiji era was instilled with an almost religious aspect. See Kanno Kakumyō, Bushidō no gyakushū (Tōkyō: Kōdansha, 2004). 18, 33. 119
of ethics for samurai. Written by Tsunetomo Yamamoto (1659 – 1719), the Hagakure “appealed to the heart. It taught how to face death in order to gain life and to serve one’s master. Death was welcomed, even if it appeared absurd in another’s eyes.” 92 As a “primer for Japanese military men,” the Hagakure covered a range of topics such as filial piety, loyalty, and chivalry. 93 However, it was particularly the emphasis on the need for preparedness for death which saw this text become a focus of the spiritual training of soldiers under the kokutai ideology in Imperial Japan. 94 Buddhist leader, Suzuki Daisetsu Teitarō (1870 – 1966), promoted the teaching advocated in the Hagakure that “bushidō means the determined will to die.” Urging the Emperor’s troops to “choose the way to death,” 95 he cited a verse by Tsukahara Bokuden [1490‐1572], the great swordsman of the Sengoku era (Warring States 1568 – 1615), who wrote The ultimate end of all discipline for the samurai Whatever form it may take, Is one and one only, that is, not to flinch in the face of death. 96 The text gives a hint of the fact that, in addition to dying in the name of one’s lord, the 92
Lu, David P, ed., Japan: A Documentary History, 2 vols., 2 (Armonk, N.Y.: M.E.Sharpe, 1996‐97). 261‐62. 93
Morris, The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan. 453. 94
Ibid. 453. 95
Suzuki Daisetsu Teitarō, Zen and Japanese Culture trans. Momo Kitagawa (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2005). 78. 96
As quoted in Ibid. 82. 120
Emperor, the devout subject must never ‘flinch’ but must face death wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Not only were soldiers encouraged to go off to war to die on behalf of the Emperor, prominent thinker and Nichiren scholar and nationalist, Tanaka Chigaku (1861‐
1939), wrote in 1935 that it was essential to call out “Long Live the Emperor” (tennōheika banzai) when dying on the battlefield. To Tanaka, soldiers should “gladly meet [their] end without hesitation,” since to do so was the “latent kokutai sense.” 97 However, while there may have been claims that soldiers at the point of death were inspired to shout tennōheika banzai (long live the Emperor), Fujii Tadatoshi argued that there were, in fact, few soldiers who actually witnessed another soldier displaying this behaviour. In fact, soldiers were more likely to call out to their mothers. 98 This apparently ardent desire to die on behalf of the Emperor can be found in the fictional narratives of the pre‐war era. 99 Authors who wrote during the battles on the continent expressed in passionate terms almost a craving to die on behalf of the Emperor. In the Russo‐Japanese War tale, Nikudan (1906, Human Bullets), Sakurai Tadayoshi (1879‐1965) refers to the determination of soldiers to “turn into dust,” a 97
Tanaka Chigaku, What is Nippon Kokutai? (Tokyo: Shishio Bunkō, 1935). 99. 98
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no sensō. 269. 99
An anonymous soldier in the South West Pacific campaign recorded the shout of “Tennōheika Banzai” by a comrade just before he died. (ATIS Bull No 789 p2). 121
reference to their willingness to die for the Emperor. This narrative is an account of soldiers who declare that they “stand ready to die!” and who believe that “by these actions, the soldiers had never forgotten our desire to return the Imperial favour and beneficence with death and death only.” 100 Three decades later, in Mugi to heitai (1938, Wheat and Soldiers), Hino Ashihei (1907‐1960) wrote of the protagonist’s wish to shout “Banzai” at the point of death. 101 This work, wildly popular at the time of its publication, also expressed the notion that soldiers were above the average human in their ability to face death. “Soldiers have passed beyond the banal philosophy humans hold. They have passed beyond death itself.” Taking on the persona of the protagonist of his novel, Hino himself expressed his own willingness to die when, referring to himself by one of his pennames, he wrote, “Now I am ready to die, so the road for Kappa is very bright.” 102 Written during the harsh censorship regime of the pre‐war era, the two narratives referred to above were undoubtedly produced to comply with official requirements and even served a propaganda purpose. However, post war novels and memoirs, too, referenced the soldiers’ requirements to die on behalf of the Emperor. In 100
Sakurai Tadayoshi, Human Bullets: a Soldier's Story of Port Arthur trans. Masujiro Honda (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1999). 194. 101
Hino Ashihei, Wheat and Soldiers (Mugi to heitai), trans. Louis Bush (New York: Farra, 1939). 202‐3. 102
———, War and Soldier, trans. Lewis Bush (London: Putnam, 1940). 309 (Kappa was the nickname that the author used for himself). 122
Nobi (1951, Fires on the Plain), by Ōoka Shōhei (1909–1988), the main protagonist (also coincidentally named Tamura), nearing death from tuberculosis, is ostracized by his company. 103 He is told by the squad leader “And look here, Private Tamura, try to cheer up! Remember – it’s all for the Fatherland. To the very end, I expect you to act like a true soldier of the Emperor.” 104 Eric Lofgren argues that death, and the ability to submit to a noble death willingly, is the final determinant of the military self. 105 Whether accepted willingly or under duress, this requirement was something that no member of the Emperor’s forces could escape. The kokutai, which had originally been constructed to provide a code of living under Meiji, was now overtly a code of death. Taigi was not merely loyalty, but the ultimate loyalty of the sacrifice of one’s life. Creating (Tragic) Heroes 106 As the preceding section argues, death was the most significant element in the metanarrative of the Emperor. The requirement to sacrifice one’s life for the 103
Ōoka Shōhei, Fires on the Plain, trans. Ivan Morris (Tokyo: Charles E Tuttle Co., 1967). 104
Ibid. 6. 105
Lofgren, Eric Robert, Re/configuration of the Self in the Early War Literature of Ooka Shohei and Umezaki Haruo, Two Sengoha Writers. (Standford University, 1998). 277. 106
The term “tragic heroes” is in reference to Morris, The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan. Morris notes that “while historical heroes in the West are mostly winners […] our literature since Iliad or Oedipus Rex has accustomed us [too] to the hero as loser.” xxii. 123
Emperor resulted in the continuation of the samurai era’s model of the tragic hero. Ivan Morris points out that the tragic heroes celebrated from late Meiji onwards were tragic in the sense of the Greek tragedy. In other words, while the hero dies as the result of divine and societal intervention, his imminent death can provide a sense of achievement for himself and will certainly ensure that he is lauded by those he leaves behind. The only way to become a hero is, in fact, to die. Ultimately, while death could be seen as defeat, the soldier’s main goal is to die a noble yet tragic death. The motifs given prominence in this discourse of tragic and heroic death were skilfully linked back to the unique natural environment of Japan. Ohnuki‐Tierney contends that with the installation of bushidō as the “warrior’s way” by the late Meiji era, cherry blossoms became the signifier of the soul of Japan. Saitō Shōji notes that there were “seven reasons which could prove that the cherry blossom admirably matched the Japanese national character.” 107 The most salient of these were, firstly, that it was the plant that “most appropriately matched our climate and topography” and, secondly, that “throughout the land it exists in universal abundance.” 108 Ohnuki‐Tierney points out that this trope gained particular significance after the Sino‐Japanese War when cherry trees 107
Saitō Shōji, Yamato damashii no bunkashi. 123. 108
Ibid. 123. 124
began to be propagated in great numbers. 109 Under the military’s use, fallen cherry blossoms came to represent fallen soldiers, and fully blooming cherry blossoms, their souls. 110 In fact, the ephemeral nature of the cherry blossoms was used to urge soldiers to isagi‐yoku shinu (to die without clinging to life). 111 Saitō Shōji argues that “the blooming and the falling [of the cherry blossoms] are almost simultaneous.” 112 For the cherry blossom, like the ideal soldiers there is no lingering; death, in fact, comes with a “quick end.” 113 In effect, then, the cherry blossoms came specifically to represent the souls of the dead soldier. This equating of cherry blossoms and death was a complete reversal of the ancient mythological belief that the mountain deity (yama no kami), the most powerful of the gods, descended on cherry petals from the mountain peaks to provide farmers with the rice grains that meant sustenance and therefore life. 114 In the kokutai ideology, sacrificing one’s life for the Emperor achieved true 109
Cherry trees had symbolised the “old” Japan and post feudalism cherry trees were originally chopped down as a sign of “westernization.” One of the reasons for their re‐planting was originally for the benefit of tourists visiting Japan. Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 104. The planting of cherry trees also had ceremonial significance such as the birth of the crown prince, and were always planted wherever a military unit was established.———, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 122. 110
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 120. 111
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 107. 112
Saitō Shōji, Yamato damashii no bunkashi. 124. 113
Ibid. 124. 114
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 29. 125
purification, both of the inner self and of the outer reputation in society, for the soldier involved. 115 As a soldier, of course, imminent death was never far from Tamura’s thoughts, but as a Japanese soldier, he is committed right from the outset to a noble death for the Emperor that will bring glory to both himself and his family. 116 Tamura, moreover, recognises that “here on the Southern front, the heavier our defense duties, the more devoted our loyalty.” 117 The creation of an ethos of expressing loyalty until death was bolstered by the promotion of military heroes from the golden age of the loyal servant, the bushi, a “re‐fashioned” hero who enabled the foot soldiers of Japan to become the “warriors of yesteryear […] capable of dying without hesitancy.” 118 Through its association with these heroes of the past, bushidō became not merely a crucial element in the kokutai ideology, but an expression of “Japaneseness” itself. 119 From the early twentieth century, this set of ideas played a significant role in the socialization of Japanese soldiers for death, 120 with stories such as that of the forty‐seven rōnin, samurai who gave their lives for the 115
Earhart, Certain Victory. 413. Earhart provides an enlightening selection of interviewees at Yasukuni in 1942. 116
The theme of the noble death will be explored in detail in Chapter Six. 117
Tamura 50 118
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 260. 119
Sharf, Robert H. “The Zen of Japanese Nationalism” History of Religions, 33 no 1 (Aug 1993). 6. 120
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 97. 此處は戦線南方の守備の任又重ければ 126
honour of their lord, becoming powerful psychological devices for military training. 121 The appearance of the tragic hero willing to give his life for the Emperor was precipitated by Japan’s victory in both the Sino‐Japanese (1894 – 1895) and Russo‐
Japanese (1904 – 1905) Wars. While the Sino‐Japanese War ended in a relatively unproblematic victory, 122 the much bloodier Russo‐Japanese war became a compelling “landscape of death” 123 that provided the testing ground for soldiers to display the loyalty demanded by the Imperial code. 124 Victory in these conflicts validated the Imperial Army’s bushidō ethos of “self‐discipline, self‐sacrifice, single‐mindedness, unhesitating obedience to one’s lord, and utter fearlessness in the face of death.” 125 Before long, the bushidō ethos came to be used as spiritual training of the military and, 121
Re the change in military education after the Russo‐Japanese war, see Ōhama Tetsuya, Nihonjin to sensō: rekishi toshite no sensō taiken (Tokyo: Tōsui Shobō, 2002). 23. 122
The Emperor Meiji moved to the headquarters of the fifth division in Hiroshima during the Sino‐
Japanese war, creating a precedent for the Emperor as “soldier.” See Tsuzuki Chūshichi, The Pursuit of Power in Modern Japan:1825‐1995. 129. 123
Warner, Denis Aston and Warner, Peggy, The Tide at Sunrise: a History of the Russo‐Japanese War, 1904‐1905 (London, Sydney, Singapore, Manila: Angus and Robertson, 1974). 302. The scene described of the assault by General Nogi on Port Arthur is of hospital tents filled to overflowing with the wounded, mounds of dead and dying soldiers, and cremation pyres for “a thousand Japanese soldiers,” when, due to a shortage of wood, cremation was saved only for high ranking officers. 124
As shall be discussed later in this chapter, the Russo‐Japanese War gave rise to one of Imperial Japan’s examples of the “tragic hero,” General Nogi Maresuke. Two of Nogi’s sons perished as soldiers in the capture of Port Arthur, and Nogi committed suicide with his wife on the death of the Emperor Meiji. Bargen, Doris G, Suicidal Honor: General Nogi and the Writings of Mori Ōgai and Natsume Sōseki (Honolulu: The University of Hawaii Press, 2006). 5. 125
Sharf, Robert H. “The Zen of Japanese Nationalism.” 6. 127
closer to the time of the War in the Pacific, of the people. 126 Predictably, emphasis was given to heroes who had gloriously, and often ceremoniously, given up their lives for their lord. 127 In the 1928 text, Nippon Shindō Ron (The National Ideal of the Japanese People), for example, Hibino Yutaka recalled the spirit of sacrifice in the Russo‐Japanese War when he exhorted Japanese soldiers to “brave a thousand deaths to defend the national honour.” 128 He continued by affirming that “Our people from generation to generation […] have served [the Emperor] desiring nothing better than to die for his sake.” 129 Ultimately, though, it was the modern era that provided one of the great tragic heroes of the time in the form of General Nogi Maresuke (1849–1912), 130 who, in the company of his wife, on 9 July, 1912, the morning of the funeral of the Meiji 126
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army: Its Rise and Fall, 1853‐1945. 115. Drea argues that although “war time propaganda had concealed Japan’s military weaknesses to manufacture an unprecedented national commitment to war across the society,” “rumours of heavy casualties weighed heavily on popular morale.” 127
Lory, Hillis, Japan’s Military Masters: The Army in Japanese Life (New York: The Viking Press, 1943). 39. The story of the forty‐seven rōnin was a very strong psychological device for soldier’s training and it is recorded that, “The soldiers in the Tokyo district are ordered out of their barracks in the dead of night and marched to the graves of their “heroes”.” 128
Hibino Yutaka, Nippon Shindō Ron. trans. A.P. MacKenzie, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1928). 15. 129
Ibid. 19. 130
For more on the elevation of the status of the Emperor vis a vis Nogi’s death see Akamatsu Shunsuke et al., Tennōron o yomu (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 1989). 176. 128
Emperor, followed the Emperor to the grave by committing, junshi, ritual suicide of a samurai following the death of his lord. 131 While Nogi’s death conferred renewed status on this now forbidden act, the incident was not without controversy. 132 However, for the authorities this suicide was a propaganda godsend, with Nogi being rewarded for this ultimate sacrifice with interment in the Emperor Meiji’s mausoleum. Nogi’s sensational demise gave heightened credence for the remainder of the Imperial era to the concept of unswerving loyalty for and a willingness to die on behalf of the Emperor. 133 Quoted in Nippon Shindō Ron, author and newspaper editor, Kuroiwa Shūroku (1862‐1920), 134 likened the ritual death of General Nogi to that of Nankō (1294 ‐1336), 135 loyal general of the banished Emperor Godaigo (1288‐1339), who committed suicide in July 1336 when his cause was lost. According to Kuroiwa, [Nankō] believed that his death at this juncture would provide a nobler pattern to succeeding generations than his continued existence possibly could […] He left behind a model of how a knight should die. In a physical and 131
For more on the relevance of General Nogi to Japanese aikokushin and seishinkyōiku see Funabiki Takeo, "Nihonjinron" saikō (Tokyo: Nihon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai, 2003). 220. 132
General Nogi had, in fact, been castigated during life due to the high casualties suffered in the Russo‐
Japanese War. “Irate citizens denounced him as a butcher, stoned his home, and threatened his wife.” Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 115. 133
Earhart, Certain Victory. 423. 134
Also known under the pen name Kuroiwa Ruiko, he founded the newspaper Yorozu Chōhō in 1892. 135
His actual name was Kusanoki Masashige, also known as the Great Nankō. 129
material sense he failed and yet in a spiritual sense he succeeded. He well knew that he could not be victorious and he considered that a spiritual victory was in any case of greater importance to the cause. 136 Nogi’s revival of this ethos so inspired Kuroiwa that he was moved to laud the dead general in verse: Who can refrain from praising him? He has now joined his Emperor in death. By such a death he has maintained the exalted nobility of his former conduct. In his death he has exhibited the purest of loyalty. 137 These lines exalt Nogi’s sacrifice of his own life in the name of his lord and also tie this act to samurai practices of previous times, a notion confirmed by Doris Bargen’s observation that Nogi’s performance of this ancient ritual reminded the people of their “half‐forgotten past.” 138 Death is proclaimed here as the highest expression of loyalty, and, ultimately, the use of tracts such as these fostered a belief in “death for honour.” 139 The ideal of voluntary death as the supreme act of loyalty, more important than material victory, was endorsed until and throughout the Pacific War. 140 As will be 136
Hibino Yutaka, Nippon Shindō Ron. xxv. 137
Ibid. xxviii. 138
Bargen, Doris G., Suicidal Honor: General Nogi and the Writings of Mori Ōgai and Natsume Sōseki. 13. 139
Earhart, Certain Victory. 380. Whilst outside of the scope of this thesis, this belief in death for honour eventually saw the creation of the tokkōtai force, and the concept of gyokusai banzai suicide charge. 140
The motion picture Madame Shizuko Nogi (1935) was part of the mobilisation programme of 1935. See Smethurst, A Social Basis for Prewar Japanese Militarism. 168. 130
examined further in Chapter Six, Tamura’s diary reveals his belief that death, and most particularly a noble death, won more laurels than coming back alive. Nogi’s junshi also initiated the revival of another convention, the “farewell poem to life” (jisei), which Zen monks and haiku poets customarily wrote. 141 General Nogi, in fact, left two verses, the first of which was a stirring tribute to the Emperor Meiji God‐like has he now ascended. our great Lord and his august traces, from afar do we humbly revere The second was Nogi’s own jisei, which was circulated by the authorities as a model for future soldiers: It is I who go, following the path of the great lord who has departed this transient world 142 By the final years of the War in the Pacific, the practice of soldiers writing death poetry, or final letters, had become firmly entrenched. 143 Examples of these death texts abound 141
Hoffmann, Yoel, Japanese Death Poems (Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo, Japan: Charles E Tuttle, 1986). 75. 142
As quoted in Bargen, Doris S, Suicidal Honour. 78. 143
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 172. 131
in collections such as Kike Wadatsumi no Koe (Listen to the Voices from the Sea). 144 First published in 1949, this work contains letters and diary extracts from Japanese university students who perished in the war. 145 Like many of these young men, Tamura seeks strength in the prospect of death on behalf of the Emperor. It is little wonder, then, that death is a constant topic in Tamura’s material. Not only did he face the strong physical likelihood of death, the discursive environment in which he operated prior to his departure for New Guinea confirmed death as the only option for the loyal subject of Imperial Japan. Ego Involvement: Reward for Loyalty Under the Meiji government, death as a demonstration of loyalty was repaid with deification, confirming that death was indeed the keystone of a soldier’s function under the dictates of the kokutai. 146 After the uprising which ended Japan’s feudal period, members of the Emperor’s forces who died in battle were rewarded by elevation to god status. 147 One of the most potent concrete representations of Japan’s kokutai and 144
For more discussion on Japanese death poems see Hoffmann, Japanese Death Poems. 145
Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Kinenkai, ed., Listen to the Voices from the Sea (Kike Wadatsumi no Koe) (Scranton: The University of Scranton Press, 2000). 146
Fujii Tadatoshi argues that the most important order that the army made to soldiers was in fact the order for death. See Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no sensō. 7. 147
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 22. 132
symbols of the reward for death was created in 1869 when the Tōkyō Shōkonsha (literally, Tokyo Shrine to Call Back the Souls of the Deceased), renamed Yasukuni (literally peaceful country) in 1879, was erected in Tokyo on the order of the Emperor Meiji. Its original name clearly acknowledged the place that death played in the kokutai ideology. 148 From its origins as the shrine to the souls of those who assisted in the formation of the Meiji rule, it was eventually consecrated to house the souls of all those who died in the military service of the nation in all ensuing wars. According to Naoko Shimazu, “the central tenet of the Yasukuni ideology rested on the notion of ‘goryō’ which means ‘unquiet or vengeful spirits’, caused by unhappy deaths, which […] unless pacified […] exceptionally by enshrinement as kami […] may haunt or inflict suffering on the living,” giving rise to the possibility of calamity for the state. 149 This meant that all soldiers who fought and died for Japan were elevated to eternal spirits and guardian deities for the entire nation at Yasukuni, where both the nation and their families would continue to pray for them. They were now known as gunshin, warrior gods. 150 148
———, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 82. 149
Shimazu Naoko, Japanese Society at War: Death, Memory and the Russo‐Japanese War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 148. 150
Earhart, Certain Victory. 11. See also Shimazu Naoko, Japanese Society at War: Death, Memory and the Russo‐Japanese War, 197‐230, for an excellent explanation of gunshin. 133
As Kazuko Tsurumi noted, a soldier’s becoming a god of the nation bestowed distinction on the entire family, and so death in the service of the nation was also an act of filial piety. 151 The fact that soldiers had to die to be glorified perpetuated what David Earhart called the “kokutai triad” in which “the Emperor presided over the enshrinement ritual at Yasukuni, ensuring that the dead man’s spirit joined the Imperial ancestors; the bereaved on the home front venerated these deities and received their protection; and Japan was made a sacred land in part through sacrifices made by the warrior‐gods.” 152 Drea notes that with the pervasiveness of the “cult of the fallen soldier” by the 1930s, “the Imperial couple visited the Yasukuni shrine regularly to express the nation’s gratitude to the war dead; the day of the Yasukuni festival became a national holiday, and regular visits to the shrine became part of the curriculum of schoolchildren from 1933 onwards.” 153 Although, as we will see in Chapter Six, other soldier diarists used the promise of Yasukuni to cope with the prospect of their own impending death, Tamura does not refer specifically to this site. He does, however, repeatedly allude to 151
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 125. 152
Earhart, David C, "All Ready to Die: Kamikazefication and Japan's Wartime Ideology," Critical Asian Studies 37, no. 4 (2005). 576. 153
Trefalt, Beatrice, Japanese Army Stragglers and Memories of the War in Japan, 1950‐1975 (London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003). 41. 134
deification of his fallen comrades after death. From Ritualism to Unconditional Conformism We have noted early efforts to ensure the compliance of subjects to the Imperial way through documents such as The Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors and The Imperial Rescript on Education. However, this was the beginning of a process that was on‐going. In order to enforce conformity to the kokutai ideology, much legislation, constant propaganda and eternal vigilance was required over almost five decades from the late nineteenth century. 154 All of these moves were made in response to undercurrents of social unrest and potential threats to the stability of the kokutai ideology. In 1924, for example, the Home Ministry established the Kyōka Dantai Rengōkai (Federation of Moral Suasion Groups), which would be responsible for guiding the morals of the people. 155 1925 saw the enactment of the Peace Preservation Law which prohibited conspiracy, revolt or even thought opposed to the national essence of the kokutai. This act, revised to increase its powers in 1928, was implemented in direct 154
For example, the nationalist Kōtoku Shūsui had been executed in 1910, in company with 11 other “terrorists” for allegedly plotting to assassinate the Emperor Meiji. See Notehelfer, Fred G, "Kotoku Shusui and Nationalism." 31. 155
Totman, Conrad, Early Modern Japan (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1993). 11. 135
response to a perceived communist threat. 156 In 1928, military officers were installed in all boys’ schools from junior high upwards, and military training became part of the curriculum. 157 The Kyōka Dantai Rengōkai had grown enormously by the time of the “Moral Suasion Mobilization Campaign” of 1929. One of the posters associated with that campaign read, “When the people’s spirit is roused, the national crisis will pass.” 158 As Sheldon Garon notes, the campaign was assisted by this time with technological advancements such as motion pictures as well as the traditional leaflets and handbills. 159 After the death of the Taishō Emperor in late 1926, efforts to marshall the loyalty of the Emperor’s subjects were increased considerably. By the 1930s, patriotic propaganda was commonplace and ceremonial activities, such as military parades with patriotic speeches, were held throughout the year to celebrate the birthdays of each of the Emperors since Meiji, the Imperial Founding Day, New Year’s Day, Army Day, Navy Day, Reservist Association Day, Youth Association Founding Day, the anniversary of The Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors, together with victory days for the first Sino‐
156
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no sensō. 267. 157
Ienaga Saburō, Japan's Last War. 28. 158
As cited in the introduction to Totman, Early Modern Japan. “Moral suasion” is Totman’s translation of the Japanese term kyōka. For a detailed account of kyōka see Ibid. 7. 159
Garon, Sheldon, Molding Japanese Minds: the State in Everyday Life (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997). 13. 136
Japanese War, Russo‐Japanese War, the Manchurian Incident and the China Incident. 160 The euphoric reaction by the masses to Japan’s initiation of hostilities in Manchuria in the summer of 1931 demonstrated the degree to which the notion of the kokutai had been internalized by the nation. 161 Japan’s subsequent withdrawal from the League of Nations and the assassination of Prime Minister Inukai Tsuyoshi (1855‐1932) in 1932 led to a collapse of the power of political parties, leaving the country effectively in the hands of the military. The patriotic activities of women’s groups, too, became more and more military in nature. For example, the Aikoku Fujinkai (Patriotic Women’s Association), formed in 1901 primarily by upper‐class women with close connections to the Imperial Family, was all but overtaken by the newly formed Kokubō Fujinkai (National Defence Women’s Association), the members of which would eventually take on the responsibility of providing comfort bags for the troops. 162 The increase in the political power of the military, and the tighter censorship and greater control of civilian political activities resulting from the February 160
Smethurst, A Social Basis for Prewar Japanese Militarism. 171. 161
Young, Louise, Japan's Total Empire: Manchuria and the Culture of Wartime Imperialism, ed. Irwin Scheiner (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1998). 95. 162
Tsuzuki Chūshichi, The Pursuit of Power in Modern Japan, 1825‐1995. 303. Even this group was eventually overtaken by the more nationalistic and government sponsored Great Japan Women’s Association in 1941. 137
26 Incident of 1936, 163 strengthened the militaristic element of the kokutai ideology. The February uprising also saw the Emperor, who had always been attracted to military garb, change almost exclusively from civilian suit to military uniform and label himself as Daigunsui (Generalissimo). 164 Priming the Kokutai for War: The Kokutai no Hongi 1937, the year that saw Japan wage full scale war in China, also saw the Ministry of Education publish the document entitled Kokutai no Hongi which became the most significant kokutai propaganda tool. By the time of its publication the “‘national polity’ became an incantatory symbol to the nationalists and ‘failure to appreciate the national polity’ was almost the gravest charge that could be levelled against an opponent.” 165 Circulated principally as a handbook for use by teachers, this text had a much wider sphere of influence than the school system, often being cited in public speeches and other official statements. 166 Universally disseminated through 163
Drea, Japan's Imperial Army. 179. 164
This signaled the military nature of even the Emperor. See Hosaka Masayasu, Shōwa: Sensō to Tennō to Mishima Yukio. (Tokyo: Asahi Shimbunsha, 2005). 26. See also Ōhama Tetsuya, Nihonjin to Sensō: rekishi to shite no sensō taiken (Tokyo: Tōsui Shobō, 2002). 88. 165
Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. 376. 166
For more on Kokutai no hongi see Kawahara Miyako, Nihon kindai shisō to kyōiku 138
schools, this text would have featured significantly in Tamura’s socialization process, and is therefore paramount to any understanding of the influence of the kokutai discourse on his diary. The Kokutai no Hongi contained the ultimate distillation of the ideological discourses of the time and provided the “landscape” in which the citizens of Japan would exist. 167 Kang Sangjung goes so far as to describe the Kokutai no Hongi as a “non‐
religious religion.” 168 Kevin Doak argues that, even though it fell short of being a definitive statement of what the kokutai actually meant in terms of nationhood, its promotion by the Kokumin Seishin Sōdō (National Spiritual Mobilisation), 169 established by Prime Minister Konoe Fumimaro (1891 – 1945) in 1937 to unite the nation for the total war effort against China, raised its status to the ultimate kokutai text. 170 The Kokutai no Hongi emphasised “the sacredness of the Emperor as the spiritual centre of the empire and of the duty of loyalty owed the Emperor (tennō) by all (Tokyo: Seibundō, 1994). 223. 167
The Kokutai no Hongi was also published as a measure against political unrest. For further clarification see Ogino Fujio, Senzen Monbushō no Chian Kinō: “shisō tōsei” kara “kyōgaku rensei” e (Tokyo: Azekura Shobō, 2007). 194 and 198. 168
Kang, Nashonarizumu. 74. 169
This group was an offshoot of the National Mobilization law (Kokka Sōdōin Hō) which was enacted in 1938 in response to a need to promote the war within the community see Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto. 6. 170
Ogino Fujio, Senzen Monbushō no Chian Kinō. 198. 139
His subjects.” 171 Importantly, the document broke with tradition that had been in place since Meiji by referring to the Emperor as tennō rather than kōtei, a term used for the rulers of other nations also, thus identifying the Emperor as unique in his deity. 172 This effectively heightened the ultra‐nationalistic xenophobia inherent in the version of the kokutai ideology current by that time. As the Kokutai no Hongi was produced during Japan’s fifteen‐year war, it focussed on issues of military service, noting that Japan’s military strength resided in the spiritual unity of the people and the core of that spiritual unity was the divinity of the Emperor, a “fact” that made Japan superior to Western nations. It stated that in the West, conglomerations of individuals form a nation, rulers, on a basis of intelligence, virtues, and power, accede to a position because of their virtues. […] In our country, however, the Imperial Throne is acceded to by one descended from a line of Emperors unbroken for ages eternal and is absolutely firm.” 173 171
Doak, Kevin M, A History of Nationalism in Modern Japan: Placing the People (Leiden Boston Brill, 2007). 112. 172
Miwa Kimitada, "Neither East nor West but All Alone," in Japan Examined: Perspectives on Modern Japanese History, ed. Harry Wray and Hillary Conroy (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983). 389. 173
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. trans. Gauntlett John Owen ( Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1949). 75. 140
Once again, this was a text that emphasised the fact that Japan was a country where the family of the head of state had endured from the mists of antiquity. The text devoted an entire chapter to “The Way of the Subjects.” Kang Sangjung argues that the requirement now was for subjects to view their loyalty to the Emperor as a natural progression of their role as subjects, rather than as a duty. 174 This is supported in the opening paragraph of the document: The Way of the subject exists where the entire nation serves the Emperor united in mind […] That is, we by nature serve the Emperor and walk the Way of the Empire, and it is perfectly natural that we subjects should possess this essential quality. 175 Shōtoku Taishi (573 ‐621), who paradoxically had sent the first envoy to China to foster foreign learning, was quoted within the text to provide authoritative substantiation of this definition of the Way of the Empire: In our country, Sovereign and subjects have from old been spoken of as being one, and the entire nation, united in mind and acting in full co‐operation, have shown forth the beauties of this oneness with the Emperor as their 174
Kang, Nashonarizumu. 80. 175
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 79. 141
centre. The august virtues of the Emperor and the duties of the subjects converge and unite into a beautiful harmony. 176 It might be noted ironically that while the ruler and subject were one, it was only the subject who was required to acknowledge this bond through death. In order to ensure that they would be able to dutifully “walk in the Way of the Empire,” the Kokutai no Hongi exhorted its readers to renounce all pretension towards individuality, warning that When man makes self the centre of his interests, the spirit of self‐effacement and self‐sacrifice suffers loss. In the world of individualism there naturally arises a mind that makes self the master and others servants and puts gain first and gives service a secondary place. 177 This teaching of the Kokutai no Hongi is crucial to an understanding of the internal tension between the demands of the self and the desire to erase the self in the name of the Emperor evident in Tamura’s diary. Tamura’s text repeatedly confirms the constant struggle between his remaining committed to the spirit of self‐effacement and self‐
sacrifice exacted by the kokutai and his desire to respond to his circumstances as an active self‐directed individual. 176
Ibid. 99. 177
Ibid. 133. 142
The Kokutai no Hongi’s position on the status of the individual as an intrinsic facet of the whole, and moreover, unable to operate on a solely individual basis, was defined in the following passagage. The spirit of self‐effacement is not a mere denial of oneself, but means living to the great, true self by denying one’s small self. Individuals are essentially not beings isolated from the State, but each has his allotted share as forming parts of the State. And because they form parts, they constantly and intrinsically unite themselves with the State; and it is this that gives birth to the spirit of self‐effacement [….] These characteristics, in union with the spirit of self‐effacement, give rise to a power to assimilate things alien to oneself. 178 Tamura Yoshikazu, in attempting to reconcile his own corporeal desires with the requirement to remain steadfastly committed to the kokutai and, what is more, in constantly re‐fashioning his world to reduce its alien characteristics, could have been the author of the last sentence in the quote given above. The Kokutai no Hongi exhorted subjects to believe that loyalty to the Emperor means “nothing short of loving the country.” 179 The document went on to state categorically that “through loyalty we become Japanese subjects; in loyalty do we obtain 178
Ibid. 134. 179
Ibid. 143
life; and herein do we find the source of all morality.” 180 The text merged the Emperor with country, so that not only were the imminent wars to be fought for the sake of the country, but also for the sake of the Emperor. The song Umi Yukaba (among others), 181 which was used extensively by the military and was played on radios the day that Japan attacked Pearl Harbour, was offered as evidence of the historical tradition of loyalty to the point of death. The obligation to die for the Emperor was woven into almost every section of the Kokutai no Hongi: It is the nature of the subjects to make this great august Will their own, to receive the spirit of the founding of the Empire as their own by means of ceremonial rites, to pray for the Emperor’s peace by sacrificing themselves, and to enhance the spirit of service to the State. 182 180
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 83. 181
The song Umi Yukaba originated in the eighth century text, Manyōshu as a poem by Otomo no Yakamochi, a soldier in charge of the imperial guards: In the sea, water‐logged corpses, In the mountains those corpses with grasses growing on them But my desire to die next to my emperor unflinching I shall not look back” as quoted in Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 139.
182
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 139. 144
The Kokutai no Hongi located this extreme obligation of self‐sacrifice unto death in the context of a divinely instituted social structure with the Emperor as a benevolent father of the nation “who loves and protects [his subjects] as one would sucklings.” 183 It emphasised the eternally familial structure of the nation with the claim that “the life of a family in our country is not confined to the present life of a household of parents and children, but beginning with the distant ancestors, is carried on eternally by the descendants.” 184 For Tamura in the New Guinea war‐zone, however, any protection and sense of family seemed remote, as he indicated in a number of places in his diary. The Kokutai no Hongi also rendered unique the physical environment of Japan. The opening paragraph of the chapter, “The Homeland and the Life of the People,” is unequivocal: Our love for the homeland and her trees and grasses springs from such a sense of brotherly love. In effect, our people’s love for the homeland finds its source in the relationship of the oneness that has come down from the divine ages. 185 Here the Kokutai no Hongi skilfully underscores the unique nature of Japan as the core of the solidarity expected of its citizens. Ultimately, this sense of the uniqueness of the 183
Ibid. 76. 184
Ibid. 87. 185
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 124. 145
Japanese landscape and the people’s oneness with it is “timeless,” originating at Japan’s creation, where the creator gods and the land and people they created formed one family. As will be further developed in Chapters Four and Five, Tamura Yoshikazu’s ability to remain grounded within the kokutai is also conditional on his ability to reinvent the landscape of Japan in his current location. We shall see that because of the alien nature of the New Guinea setting, these re‐invented landscapes take the form of remembered and psychologically recreated images. Educating in the Kokutai The establishment of the Kokutai no Hongi as the supreme kokutai text was accompanied by changes within the education system to reflect its tenets. The author and film critic, Satō Tadao (b. 1930), who was of school age during this period, noted that schools indoctrinated children with the dogma that the Emperor was god. He further observed that the main purpose of education in his childhood seemed to have been inculcating people with loyalty to the Emperor (chūgi). 186 He relates a rumour that 186
Satō Tadao, Kusa no Ne no Gunkoku Shugi (Tokyo: Heibonsha, 2007). 13. 146
circulated at the time of a school principal who committed suicide after the mandatory photo of the Emperor was incinerated in a fire that destroyed his school. 187 Harry Wray is one of a number of scholars who discusses the various strategies employed by the education authorities and those that worked with the nation’s children to ensure the loyalty to which Satō refers. Wray notes that the curriculum was filled with stories of “national holidays, flag, anthem, and the greatness of the Imperial family,” all of which served to “underscore Japan’s uniqueness.” 188 Iritani Toshio asserts that the principles of indoctrination were “adoration of the war dead, who were killed in wars dating back to ancient times [and] fanatical patriotism and an emotional attachment to achieving the objects of war.” 189 Again, famous heroes were glorified as shining examples of what children should aspire to as future soldiers of their country. One example was the “Three Brave Heroes as Human Canons” (Nikudan San Yūshi). 190 According to Ohnuki‐Tierney, “on 22 February 1937, three privates, Eshita Takeji, Kitagawa Jō, and Sakue Inosuke, carried a three metre bamboo tube packed with explosives and dashed into a wire‐fenced Chinese fortress in Shanghai so that the army 187
Ibid. 13. 188
Smethurst, "A Social Origin of the Second World War." 285. 189
Iritani Toshio, Group Psychology of the Japanese in Wartime (London and New York: Kegan Paul International, 1991). 160‐61. 190
Also known as Bakudan san yūshi. 147
could advance.” 191 The degree of adulation that was accorded these privates led to the production of a kabuki play, the erection of government funded statues, and a song penned by Saijō Yaso (1892 – 1970), evocatively titled Yamato Damashii no Uta (Song of the Japanese Soul). 192 The song became part of the repertoire of school songs for primary school students. 193 On an everyday level, the Takashima Department Store in Osaka served a “Three Human Bombs Meal” and an enterprising shop began producing “Three Human Bombs Rice Crackers.” 194 If the enduring thread running through Japan’s education curriculum from the institution of universal education under Meiji to the Pacific War was the role of the Emperor, concomitant to this was militarism. Classes frequently focused on achievements by the military, with Ienaga Saburō noting that while arithmetic classes involved “calculations about military matters,” science classes examined “general information about searchlights, wireless communication, land mines and torpedoes, submarines, military dirigibles, Shimose explosives, military carrier pigeons, heavy cannon, mortars, machine guns, the Arisaka cannon and military sanitation.” Physical 191
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 113. 192
Ibid. 113. 193
Ibid. 194
Earhart, Certain Victory. 77. 148
education would include “character training and war games.” Music classes were to “reverberate [with] war songs.” 195 By the 1930s, when Tamura had already been attending school for ten years, the ultra nationalistic curriculum contained exhortations for Japanese children to respect the national anthem and to follow the example of self sacrifice to the death by Crown Prince Yoshihisa, who had been killed in Taiwan in the service of his country. Children were also urged to exalt the spirit of the Emperor Meiji and those who were enshrined at Yasukuni, and to follow also a pathway of patriotism and loyalty. 196 School readers repeatedly featured images of the brave Japanese soldier, accompanying songs with titles such as “The Army Flag.” Wray noted that “throughout the first three readers, pictures of cherry blossoms, the Japanese sword, and military symbols were conspicuous.” 197 Now that Japan’s mythological origins were taught as fact, the education system engaged in the “mythologization of history and the historisization of myths.” 198 195
Ienaga Saburō, Japan's Last War. 23‐24. 196
See Wray, Harry, "The Lesson of the Textbooks," in Japan Examined: Perspectives on Modern Japanese History. 284. 197
Ibid. 284 198
Kitagawa, Joseph, "The Japanese Kokutai (National Community) History and Myth." History of Religions 13, no. 3 (1974). 226. 149
The words “god‐country” appeared in readers while history texts now featured “eight lessons on mythology rather than three.” There were also “stories on national holidays, the flag, the national anthem, and the greatness of the Imperial family.” 199 Satō Tadao recalls that the poems in the opening pages of the elementary school text books were Saita saita (Cherry Blossoms Bloom) and Heitai susume (Soldiers Advance), songs which he argues militarized the school system. Whether or not the editors of school texts intended the image of the cherry blossom to be associated with soldiers, the fact that small children learned these words together firmly linked them in students’ minds. 200 Reciting the edicts of the Imperial Rescript on Education was a part of daily school life. This had been firmly cemented by the time the National Schools Law (Kokumin Gakkō Rei) came into place in April 1941. This law “required the elevation of national spirit, cultivation of scientific intelligence, physical improvement and the refinement of moral sentiment.” 201 199
Wray, "The Lesson of the Textbooks." 285. 200
Satō Tadao, Kusa no Ne no Gunkoku Shugi. 51. 201
Iritani Toshio, Group Psychology of the Japanese in Wartime. 164. On page 165, Iritani notes that students recited the following: 1.
We are the pupils of His Majesty the Emperor. Stand up to study how we should follow and increase our loyalty. Swear to co‐operate in the vocation we are given. 2.
We are the pupils of his Majesty the Emperor. Exhibit a spirit of fortitude and sturdiness. Swear to enhance the Imperial Way. 150
Education of both adult and child subjects in the way of the kokutai extended well outside the school system. As noted above, by the summer of 1938, the cabinet of Prime Minister Konoe Fumimaro (1891–1945) 202 had declared a “spiritual mobilization” (seishin sōdōin) and slogans incorporating the family nature of the nation, such as “one hundred million hearts beating as one” (ichioku isshin) were all‐
pervading. 203 Youth training centres (seinen kunrenjō), which had been established in 1925‐26 to provide vocational training for young men between the ages of sixteen and twenty, 204 now provided over 800 hours of extra curricular education over four years. This was comprised of “400 hours of drill training under reservist direction and 400 hours of ethical, patriotic, physical and academic courses taught by elementary school teachers.” 205 3.
We are the pupils of His Majesty the Emperor. Use friendly competition to make ourselves study the literary and military arts as hard as possible. Swear to make ourselves the pillars of prosperity in Asia. 202
Prime Minister, June 1937‐January, 1939; July, 1940‐July, 1941; July 1941‐October 1941. 203
See Shillony, Ben‐Ami, Politics and Culture in Wartime Japan (London: Oxford University Press, 1981). 5. 204
This was followed closely by the founding of The National Defence Women’s Association (Dai Nippon Kokubō Fujinkai) in 1930. Branches of these organizations were instituted in rural villages as well. 205
Smethurst, "A Social Origin of the Second World War." 277. 151
War and the Kokutai By the time Tamura returned to Japan from his China tour of duty in late 1940, he would have personally experienced the increased deprivation of Japanese civilians and the intensification of the government’s demands on the people through legislation and the kokutai propaganda that followed the escalation of the second Sino‐
Japanese War. 206 With the military operations in China proving more costly than anticipated, government initiated savings progams were promoted heavily. In the government’s official magazine, Shashin Shūhō (Photographic Weekly Report), of 15 June 1938, we read The brave, loyal officers and men of the Imperial Forces, who have made numerous noble sacrifices, continue the fight. They have already opened the way for our nation to achieve its highest mission, but the future is still full of many possibilities, and therefore we citizens must harden our unwavering determination in preparing for a long‐term war. If we now failed to supply our Emperor’s troops fighting at the front with all the provisions‐ such as weapons, munitions and, medicine – that they need, or if the economy of we citizens on the home front weakened through inflation, then what would happen to Japan? […] In order to prevent this from happening, from this very 206
Havens, Thomas R H, Valley of Darkness: The Japanese People and World War Two (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1978). 35. “With the year 1936 as 100, the retail price index had risen by 1940 in the U.S. to 101, in Germany to 104, in the U.K. to 125 – and in Japan to the shocking figure of 175.” 152
moment today, we citizens should all join the “savings war” by taking up the rifle of savings and putting on the uniform of thriftiness. 207 By 1940, the “monthly ‘Day of Service for Developing Asia’ was promulgated […] All citizens were to show their support by foregoing ‘luxury’ items, such as alcohol, tobacco, and meat, by volunteering for war work, and by participating in scrap drives.” 208 This was in conjunction with a focused campaign entitled “Luxury is the Enemy” (Zeitaku wa teki da). 209 The 2600th Anniversary of the accession of Emperor Jimmu further enhanced the popularisation of the slogan Hakkō Ichiu (eight cords, one roof) used early in January of the same year by Prime Minister Konoe to open the white paper, Kihon Kokusaku Yōkō (Fundamental National Policy). This document claimed to aspire to “world peace in conformity with the very spirit in which our nation was founded”. 210 Japan’s expansionist ambitions were now to encompass the whole world. According to Walter Edwards, the erection in Miyazaki of a monument inscribed with the words Hakkō Ichiu to celebrate the ascension of the Emperor Jimmu, to whom the expression 207
Earhart, Certain Victory. 121. 208
Ibid. 125. 209
Ibid. 210 Edwards, Walter, "Forging Tradition for a Holy War: The Hakkō Ichiu Tower in Miyazaki and Japanese Wartime Ideology," Journal of Japanese Studies 29, no. 2 (2003). 291 153
was credited, justified Japan’s expansion “by linking military images with symbols of unassailable authority: Shintō worship and the Imperial institution.” 211 From 1939, national policy films also gave enthusiastic support to the principles of the kokutai. Peter B High cites the themes of the “‘little people’ swept up in forces far greater than themselves” and of heroes who displayed the “moral purity that Japan demanded of warriors and civilians alike.” 212 Throughout this period, efforts to ensure the co‐operation of the public also intensified. Women were stationed on the streets to act as monitors to ensure citizens exercised frugality. A national uniform for all males similar to the army uniform was made compulsory. 213 In August 1941, the Ministry of Education issued the manifesto Shinmin no Michi (The Way of the Subject) designed to “contribute to the destruction of self‐
centred and utilitarian ideas that have seeped into Japan from the West.” 214 The private lives of individuals were considered to have public “significance in that each so‐called 211
Ibid. 312 212
High, Peter B, "The War Image of Imperial Japan and its Aftermath," Wide Angle 11, no. 3 (1989). 19‐21. High notes that “soon the best film talent in Japan were making war films: Kinugasa, Kajirō Yamamoto, Tadashi Imai, Daisuke Itō, Tomu Uchida, and even Akira Kurosawa. Only Mizoguchi and Ozu escaped conscription.” 213
Marks, Toshiko. "Life in Wartime Japan." Paper presented at the Japan and the Second World War, Suntory‐Toyota International Centre for Economics and Related Disciplines, 1989. 3. 214
Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. Glossary, 389. 154
private action is carried out by the subject as part of his humble efforts to assist the Throne […] Thus we must never forget that even in our personal lives we are joined to the Emperor and must be moved by the desire to serve our country.” 215 By this time, the entire education system in Japan was centred on this manifesto which emphasized “above all […] service to the state.” 216 1942 saw the publication of the supplementary manifesto, Ie no Michi (The Way of the Family) more formally known as Senji Katei Kyōiku Shidō Yōkō (Wartime Domestic Guidance Essentials), 217 which elaborated the principles of filial piety. The joint teachings of the Shinmin no Michi and the Ie no Michi advocated the “concept of proper place” as “the essence of the family paradigm.” 218 This was an oblique reference to the unique nature of the homeland, Japan. Wholesale acceptance? According to author and film director, Itami Mansaku (1900‐1946), the Japanese people themselves were responsible for the success of the kokutai ideology, because “as a result of this crazy war, every Japanese person was forced to deceive his 215
Ibid. 7. 216
Ibid. 7. 217
Dower, War Without Mercy. 280. 218
Ibid. 155
or her peers.” 219 He went on to argue: “If you are so naïve as to believe that you are exempt from the responsibility upon claiming that you were deceived, and that thus you now belong to the right causes, you must wash your face [and wake up.]” 220 There was little chance for individual voices of opposition to be heard, with many, on the contrary, aiding and abetting the success of kokutai propaganda. “Colleagues, neighbours, publicists, relatives – these were people who hounded […] the reformers, and the liberals.” 221 The government had implemented numerous measures to regiment and spy on the people. Neighbourhood associations of groups of ten households, responsible for the rationing of food and therefore virtually compulsory to join, had been formed in 1940. 222 Neighbour spying on neighbour resulted also in an outward display of compliance with the official doctrine (tatemae) versus the honne 219
Itami Mansaku, Seishin Doshinroku (The Record of an Immobile Body and an Active Mind) Itami Mansaku Zenshū 2, (Tokyo. Chikuma Shobō (1945). 337, as quoted in Mayo, Marlene, Rimer, Thomas J, and Kerkham, H Eleanor, ed. War, Occupation, and Creativity: Japan and East Asia, 1920‐1960 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2001). 222. 220
Itami: Seishin Doshinroku as quoted in Ibid. 222. 221
Jansen, Marius B, ed., Changing Attitudes towards Modernisation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965). 80‐81, as quoted in Pyle, Kenneth, "Introduction: Some Recent Approaches to Nationalism," The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 1. 7. 222
Shillony, Politics and Culture in Wartime Japan. 4. 156
(deeply felt feelings) of mothers and fathers required to send their sons off to the war. 223 Ensuring Soldiers’ Compliance: The Senjinkun (Instructions for the Battlefield) If the Kokutai no Hongi was the most important document in the inculcation of the masses in the way of Japan’s national polity, then the Senjinkun (Instructions for the Battlefield), published on 8 January, 1941, in the name of War Minister Tōjō Hideki (1884 ‐1948), was the most significant military document since the Meiji era’s Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors. Unlike previous field service regulations which focused basically on logistics, the Senjinkun, published as a spiritual guide to soldiers in response to the moral laxity of troops in China, 224 followed the Kokutai no Hongi in focusing entirely on spirituality. Soldiers were encouraged to defend the empire “by laying to heart the essential character of the national polity,” 225 which meant “joyfully braving death in obedience to a command given at a time when they are undergoing great hardships.” 226 Soldiers were exhorted to “display the spirit of 223
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 176. 224
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 272. 225
Rikugun, Senjinkun (Tokyo: The Department of Army, 1941). Senjinkun, Section 1 The Empire. 226
Ibid. Senjinkun, Section 3 Discipline. 157
cooperation by forgetting themselves for the sake of victory.” 227 The section entitled “Aggressiveness” maintained that soldiers should fight “vowing not to cease until the enemy is crushed” and should “never give up a position, but rather die.” 228 Terms which gained currency through the Senjinkun were words such as jinchū, here used in conjunction with the highly spiritual term chūgi (used in the Gunjin Chokuyū) which denoted a heartfelt sense of loyalty. 229 Jinchū, which meant “to work desperately for the Emperor,” was the label given to the manner or the actions which displayed chūgi. Ulrich Straus argues that the Senjinkun “demanded unlimited service to the state and a romanticized and moral notion of death.” 230 Although the Senjinkun was promulgated specifically for soldiers, its dictates were applied to the population at large, 231 in anticipation of the appearance six months later of the Ministry of Education’s Way of the Subject. 232 Ulrich Straus affirms that the spirit of the Senjinkun at the time of its issue was “so deeply embedded in the national psyche […] it had become an 227
Ibid. Senjinkun, Section 5 Cooperation. 228
Ibid.Senjinkun, Section 6 Aggressiveness. 229
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 268 230
Straus, The Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POW's of World War II. 249. 231
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 278. 232
See Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. 7‐10. 158
imperative not only for the military [but] ultimately for all civilians including women and children.” 233 Eminently clear throughout Tamura’s diary is the fact that the discourse of kokutai, together with its copious official instructive material, provided “the orderliness [which] is invoked to inject sense into the unfamiliar.” 234 The kokutai ideology left no place for individualistic behavior, with the result that the outward expression or omote of the individual was a construct of the state approved persona, much as in Foucault’s “disciplined” society. 235 However, Tamura, like so many other soldiers, had internalized this ideology to the extent that it also contributed to the development of his ura, his inner self, thus enabling him to persevere as a loyal subject in an alien environment. Nevertheless, the diary clearly demonstrates that internalization of the kokutai’s discourse by Tamura was incomplete. This is evinced by the tension between the writer’s desire to be a devoted subject of the Emperor while also expressing the desires of his individual self. The kokutai firmly entrenched a belief in both citizens and soldiers in Japan’s unique nature, spiritual superiority and the requirement of absolute loyalty to 233
Straus, The Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POW's of World War II. 40. 234
Harootunian, Harry, Overcome By Modernity: History, Culture, and Community in Interwar Japan (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2000). 297. 235
See Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. 159
the death in the name of the Emperor. Chapter Three will examine the physical and emotional rupturing of the familiar aspects of landscape in the far reaches of New Guinea which ultimately pose a threat to Tamura’s ability to remain loyal to the teachings of the kokutai and to remain committed to the “noble” cause of Imperial Japan. 160
Chapter Three Out of Country Introduction This chapter will examine the physical and emotional aspects of landscape which threaten Tamura’s commitment to the kokutai discourse. Particular emphasis will be given to the confronting aspects of deprivation, alienation and isolation which beset Tamura in the New Guinea battlefield and which generate a necessity on the part of the diary writer to renegotiate both the personal and national sense of self. One important means by which Tamura conducts this process of renegotiation is by recording his responses to his circumstances in the diary. As has been examined in Chapter Two, Tamura was socialised under the auspices of the kokutai which became the spiritual landscape that dictated his activities as a subject of Imperial Japan. Invoking Martin Heidegger’s assertion that Nature is central to being, 1 Julia Adeney Thomas observed that “pre‐war and wartime ideology made the Japanese nation – its politics, culture, values, and people – the embodiment of 1
Heidegger, Martin, Poetry, Language and Thought, trans. Albert Hofstadter (New York: Harper and Row, 1971). 106. 161
nature, equating the existing national community with nature itself.” 2 The association between the physical landscape of the Japanese archipelago and the discourses of nationalism generated by successive pre‐war administrations led to a strong attachment on the part of individuals, including Tamura, to the topography of Japan – to its mountains, rice‐fields and other distinctive features. Abrupt transference to an unfamiliar – or unheimlich – physical environment in which all cultural points of reference were erased had the potential to disrupt the equanimity of and unhinge those subjected to this change. Dislocation is difficult for all displaced persons. Hannah Arendt continued to lament her situation for many years. We lost our home, which means the familiarity of our daily life. We lost our occupation, which means the confidence that we are of some use in this world […] we left our relatives […] and that means the rupture of our private 3
lives. In addition to the loss of home and “familiarity of our daily life” to which Arendt refers, the preservation of the Imperial subject’s attachment to the kokutai was contingent on the stability of a specifically Japanese physical and spiritual landscape. Accordingly, as 2
Thomas, Julia Adeney, "The Cage of Nature: Modernity's History in Japan." 17. 3
Ritivoi, Andreea Deciu, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 13. 162
we will discuss below, the shift from Japan to another site had the potential to detach the soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army from their allegiance to nationalist discourses. Tamura’s diary is often a precarious balance between a fragmentation of self brought on by isolation on the one hand and an attempt to self‐motivate by seeking solace in the familiar nationalistic discourses of home on the other. Out of Landscape Many Imperial Japanese Army soldiers experienced a sense of dislocation when sent during the 1930s to the battlefields of the Asian continent with, for example, the relentless summer heat, suffocating dust and bitter winter taking their toll on both the enlisted men and conscripts who fought on the Chinese mainland. 4 However, even more than China, the radical extremes of New Guinea presented a vast contrast to the topography of Japan and bombarded the senses of the new‐comer troops with such an unfamiliar array of sights, sounds, fragrances, tastes and textures that the experience was paradoxically tantamount to sensory deprivation. The rigours of this alien environment caused hardship, hunger and disease for soldiers. Furthermore, the sensory deprivation experienced was exacerbated by the isolation and disconnection 4
As has been exemplified in Hino Ashihei, War and Soldier. 163
from the home community represented by family and friends. Tamura’s psychological desolation is apparent when he writes “Here in this Southern land everything we see and hear is new to us but for some reason we’re listless and uninterested.” 5 Rather than interest and excitement, the overwhelming “newness” of their surrounds produces an indolent, apathetic response from Tamura and the men in his unit. Unfamiliar landscapes, then, might lead to the disintegration of the attitudes and values held dear by the loyal subjects of Imperial Japan. These values, as we have discussed in Chapter Two, often drew upon a re‐created history that relied heavily on the unique aspects of Japan’s physicality. Religious philosopher, Yuasa Yasuo (1925 – 2005), 6 put it succinctly when he wrote “history and nature, like man’s mind and body, are in an inseparable relationship.” 7 In other words, Japan as the physical and Japan as history were intertwined, so that for soldiers like Tamura displacement to the harsh and unfamiliar landscape of New Guinea was experienced not only as a physical 5 Tamura 21 南国に来て見る物聞く物 總てが珍しく ないものはなきに 何故かぼうーとして感更になし 6
Yuasa Yaso was mentored by Watsuji Tetsurō. See Shaner, David Edward, Nagatomo, Shigenori, and Yuasa, Yasuo, Science and Comparative Philosophy: Introducing Yuasa Yasuo (New York: E.J.Brill, 1989). 4. Yuasa received a doctorate from Tokyo University in 1975 with a dissertation entitled Kindai Nihon no tetsugaku to jitsuzon no shisō (Modern Japanese Philosophy and Existential Thought.) Ibid. 6. 7
Yuasa Yasuo, "The Encounter of Modern Japanese Philosophy with Heidegger," in Heidegger and Asian Thought, ed. Graham Parkes (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1996). 168. 164
rupturing but also as severance from the emotional ties of collective memory and shared past experience. Here the ideas of philosopher, Watsuji Tetsurō (1889 – 1960), are helpful to my analysis. Watsuji believed that it was climate which provided the “entire interconnected network of influences that together create an entire people’s attitudes and values.” 8 He argued that Man is saddled not simply with a general past but with a specific climatic past; a general formal historical structure is substantiated by a specific content. It is only in this way that the historical being of mankind can become the being 9
of man in a given country at a given age. We will see that throughout the diary, Tamura must return to the familiar landscape of home in order to remain within his own sense of history and country. In fact, as Watsuji argued, Tamura will “stand outside […] climate and understand [himself] from it.” 10 There is, in fact, a direct correlation to Watsuji’s belief that “climate […] is the agent by which […] life is objectivised, and it is here that man comprehends himself; there is self‐
discovery in climate.” 11 The harsh and alien aspects of nature in New Guinea force Tamura to re‐order his sense of place. While he has no power to modify the real‐life 8
9
Carter, "Watsuji Tetsurō." 6. Watsuji Tetsurō, Climate and Culture. 10. 10
Ibid. 13. 11
Ibid. 14 165
physical disorder caused by climatic conditions such as rain or humidity, he is able to re‐
fashion seasonal markers such as autumn to create a more consolingly familiar landscape. We discussed in Chapter Two how a distinct engagement with nature was an integral part of defining the Japanese people and the kokutai discourse. As Julia Adeney Thomas argues, this resulted in a melding of the consciousness of self with the consciousness of the physical surrounds. Below the surface of daily life, the coalescent devotion between the Japanese people and nature unites consciousness itself with physical experience to such an extent that one cannot be separated from the other. At some mystical level, the nature of the Japanese islands and the nature of 12
awareness of those who live on them are the same thing. Tamura’s diary, too, will reveal how the physical nature of his homeland had been psychologically internalised in a way that nurtures a sense of individual and social self. Displacement to the far shores of New Guinea would inevitably prove problematic. The tropical climate and weather patterns were a particular cause of confusion. In a poem entitled “The Four Seasons of the South” Tamura attempts to 12
Thomas, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 180. 166
reconcile the lack of the clear seasonal change he is accustomed to at home with the weather patterns experienced in New Guinea. Morning, spring; midday, the height of summer; and night, autumn? 13
In this Southern land, there are four seasons every day! For those who had grown up in and been taught to honour the unique nature of the clear seasonal variations of Japan, the unpredictability of the climate in the tropics was a continual source of bewilderment. In addition to the psychological disruption caused by climate, disconnection from the social networks of home further fuelled Tamura’s potential for disengagement from the kokutai philosophy. It was necessary for the diarist to remain grounded in the familiar or lose his grip on reality. Watsuji theorised man as, by nature, a social being with a cultural self that was nurtured by social interconnectedness. 14 While on the most fundamental level this social interconnectedness was maintained by communal interaction with other individuals and groups, it could also be facilitated by 13
Tamura 98 南方の四季 朝は春 昼は真夏で夜は秋か 南国の四季日毎ありける 14
Carter, "Watsuji Tetsurō." http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/watsuji‐tetsuro/. 2‐3. 167
more sophisticated modes of communication such as newspapers, messenger services and magazines. 15 In the early years of the Fifteen Years War, considerable homeland effort went into encouragement of the troops. 16 Women’s Associations had been active since 1937 in sending off soldiers at the docks and accosting passers‐by on street corners to add to the thousand stitch cloths (senninbari). 17 At the time of Tamura’s tour of duty in China, Japanese soldiers at the front often received imon bukuro (comfort bags) in the mail containing patriotic drawings by school children, in addition to “mascots, dolls of the province, temple charms, ornamental paper, photographs, usually some food, pressed flowers, anything the folks at home thought would brighten up the spirits of their men at the front.” 18 Comfort bags were also generally given to the soldiers departing the homeland, and Tamura recorded in his diary that he received “keepsakes of the homeland from a women’s group” at the pier just prior to his ship’s leaving for 15
Ibid. 9. 16
Smethurst, A Social Basis for Prewar Japanese Militarism. 152‐154. Young, Japan's Total Empire. 174. Young notes that the imon campaigns of 1931 sent “5,348, 444 yen in soldiers’ relief money (juppeikin) 3,500,978 donation of imon packets, and 20,250,840 donations of imon goods such as sake, daily necessities, loincloths, and charms.” 17
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 20. Earhart, Certain Victory. 152‐157. 18
Frei, Henry, Guns of February: Ordinary Japanese Soldiers Views of the Malayan Campaign. 41. 168
the New Guinea front. 19 However, compared to the opulence of previous farewell ceremonies, this was a very feeble acknowledgment of his unit’s contribution to the war effort. By the time of the Southern campaign and the despatch of Tamura’s unit to the South Pacific, Japan had already been ground down in a ten year war of attrition with China. Since increasing levels of man and women power were being directly deployed towards the war effort, there was little time for even patriotic citizens to devote to supporting the emotional welfare of troops in the field. 20 In addition, the ships which would have carried these luxuries of home were in such short supply that their deployment for more strategic use was paramount. 21 Priority was now given to working in equipment and armament factories rather than producing homemade goods to send to soldiers at the front. 22 The spirit of the Japanese Imperial Army soldier was expected to remain high through the mere knowledge that he was fighting as an instrument of the Emperor. 23 The emotional alienation for Tamura caused by lack of mail from home is 19
Tamura 32 20
Havens, Valley of Darkness: The Japanese People and World War Two. 94‐95 21
See for example, AWM IR No 183 and Havens, Valley of Darkness. 115‐126. 22
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 115‐126. 23
Gilmore, Allison B, You Can't Fight Tanks With Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in 桟橋上にて受けし婦人会の湯茶も祖国の名残り the Southwest Pacific. 55. Earhart, Certain Victory. 311. 169
compounded by the absence of physical aspects of home. 24 We shall see in the next chapter how Tamura attempts to counteract this deficiency by recording letters in his diary. This lack of social connectedness between what we might refer to as the “motherland community” of the homeland of Japan and the troops despatched to the extremes of New Guinea, who by now were without even the meagre luxury of anonymous comfort bags from home, created a sense of both physical and emotional deprivation. Wrenched from all that was familiar, troops could be forgiven for also abandoning the ideology that justified their involvement in the doomed Southern campaign. Tamura’s response, however, is more nuanced. While he critiques, for example, the personal behaviours of his superiors who are charged with implementing the Imperial agenda, he does not attack the kokutai discourses themselves. In order to understand the coping mechanisms he develops to remain affiliated with the Imperial project, it will be useful to examine a selection of specific elements of the physical and emotional deprivation experienced by Tamura in New Guinea. 24
Kahn, Sy M, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary.183. Kahn’s experience of the comforts of home is in stark contrast to that of the soldiers of Japan. He writes: “Yesterday received a package from home, containing four civilian shirts and socks. They made a familiar sight, and they smelled of cedar from lying in my bureau for so long. It was the most beautiful perfume I ever hope to smell, it was the smell of home. 170
The Landscape of Deprivation By the time of Tamura’s deployment to New Guinea, Japan had suffered defeats in the Coral Sea, Midway and Guadalcanal, in addition to the loss in the Battle of the Bismarck Sea of an entire convoy of transport ships together with four out of eight escorting destroyers. This led to a dramatic decrease in the number of Japanese ships available to transport supplies. 25 Initially this was not regarded as a problem for the New Guinea divisions since local food sources had been readily available both on the Malay Peninsula and in Indonesia. 26 It was therefore assumed that similar circumstances would prevail in the new campaign. However, agricultural production at that time in New Guinea was still relatively primitive and provided only enough for the local population. 27 According to Tanaka Hiromi, “the [Japanese] operation was executed in 25
Shindō Hiroyuki, "Japanese Air Operations over New Guinea during the Second World War." 64. 26
Tanaka Hiromi, "Japan in the Pacific War and New Guinea." 36. 27
Australian Forces deployed to the same area were trained on the Atherton Tableland because it was “in reasonable distances of the camps, rivers and jungles similar to those in New Guinea.” See Cremor, Brigadier W., ed., Action Front: The History of the 2/2nd Australian Field Regiment: Royal Australian Artillery A.I.F. (Melbourne: 2nd/2nd Field Association, 1961). 189. When this regiment arrived in New Guinea they reported that “the ubiquitous Salvation Army was on the beach to greet the men with the usual orange drink, tea and biscuits.” See Ibid. 199. 171
haste, and the Japanese forces entering New Guinea with such ignorance began to suffer from starvation as the food they carried with them ran out.” 28 Alison Gilmore correctly attributes the morale of soldiers as being contingent on “material and practical considerations, emotional and spiritual considerations and personal profile variables.” 29 For Tamura, “material and practical considerations” of “physical accommodations, the availability of food, and relations between officers and enlisted men” 30 were all major areas of concern. While the third point, particularly, was a cause of deep disappointment, inadequate food and shelter caused severe physical deprivation for the Japanese troops. Prior to departing Japan, Tamura and his comrades had little idea of the conditions that awaited them. In fact, the general perception in Japan of the physical conditions that prevailed in the South was completely at odds with the stark reality faced by the soldiers. Ide Ninja revealed the extent of outrageous impressions provided to the troops en route to New Guinea when he wrote “the army, advancing by automobiles and bicycles as we saw it in the news in Korea, is a dream.” 31 To some 28
Tanaka Hiromi, "Japan in the Pacific War and New Guinea."36. 29
Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks With Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 72. 30
Ibid. 72. 31
AWM ATIS CT 98 (1071) Diary of Ide Ninja, p 16. 172
extent, soldier’s lack of knowledge about the conditions in New Guinea was the result of censorship by the Japanese authorities. 32 One prisoner interrogated by Australian military personnel stated that “very few soldiers had returned to Japan from New Guinea, and those who did were instructed not to mention the deplorable conditions.” 33 As a result, the general public had a highly romanticised image of the tropical conditions of the South. 34 This romanticised image is clearly evident in a letter, possibly transcribed from a magazine and discussed in further detail in Chapter Four, that Tamura records in his diary. The writer has seen photos of the soldiers in the tropics, who are now so suntanned that they resemble the natives. 35 In this letter of thanks to the soldiers, the writer talks of how sweet the juice of coconuts must be, and ends with “Please put the sweetness on your next postcard and send it to me.” 36 This notion in Japan of the tropics as a fantasy land of tropical fruits is confirmed in a letter housed in the 32
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 61‐72. 33
AWM ATIS IR No 269 (1845). 34
Earhart, Certain Victory.303. Earhart provides an example of the travelogue like photographs circulated in the popular press which he terms an “account of a tropical Shangri‐la.” The photo is of Balinese women. The photograph of a young Malay national is captioned “Southern regions Growing Brighter and Brighter.” Ibid. 283. 35
Magazines often published photographs of apparently healthy, suntanned soldiers. See Earhart, Certain Victory. 271. The photographs included here show tanned and healthy young soldiers mixing with locals in various locations throughout the Pacific region. 36
Tamura 7 今度はその味をはがきに しまして送って下さい 173
Australian War Memorial that was written by the sister of a Japanese soldier. In the letter, the sister speculates that, “In the place where you are now, there will be plenty of pineapples, bananas and coconuts, and other fruits, I think.” 37 Tamura, perhaps himself influenced by this discourse, also describes a tropical paradise in his first entry in his diary. He writes that he is sitting beneath the branches of a palm tree, remembering his homeland and eating bananas. 38 Prophetically, he makes the observation that “I assume we will get tired of coconuts in a few months.” 39 Tamura’s initial fascination with the food of the tropics quickly wanes. He records a copy of a letter to his brother written in late February not long after his arrival, which conveys a degree of excitement about the exotic nature of his new home. He writes “I would like to send you lots of coconuts through my dreams. So many that you could eat as much as you wanted and still not finish.” 40 By the next day’s entry, however, Tamura laments that “I have eaten enough coconuts and now crave fresh vegetables and fresh pickles. I miss food from back home.” 41 37
AWM ATIS CT 279 (1987). 38
Tamura 1 39
Tamura 5 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 二ヶ月位で椰子もあきるだろう 40
Tamura 15 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 夢で椰子の実をたくさん送って上げましょう 椰子の梢に故郷を偲び海を眺めて ばなな食 どんなに食べても余る程 41
Tamura 16 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 椰子もあきるほど食した 174
The naïve assumption that New Guinea was a land of bountiful exotic fruits was echoed by other members of the Imperial Japanese Army involved in the Southern campaign. Shinozaki Jirō, a soldier departing for the South Pacific front, wrote in a letter to his wife that he was “leaving for the South with full confidence in my survival.” After affirming that enthusiastic participation in pre‐operations training has resulted in his being in fine physical shape, he observes that “[I] am ready to leave for the land where the coconuts grow.” 42 However, when faced with the harsh reality of limited supplies almost from the time of their arrival, the charm of coconuts could not assuage the yearning for familiar and sustaining food. This longing was exacerbated by the fact that, although some familiar fruits grew wild in the surrounding rainforest, the troops could not access these. As Tamura despondently noted, “There are supposed to be bananas in the mountains. We occasionally see natives and others carrying some but we have never once yet been able to see them growing. There are paw paws, too, but 唯ほしいのは新鮮なる野菜 又新しい漬物 42
Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Kinenkai, ed. Listen to the Voices from the Sea (Kike Wadatsumi no Koe). 58. Shinozaki Jirō, killed New Guinea 1944 aged 34. 175
not enough make a meal.” 43 The disparity between his vision of this land and its stark reality is further evidenced when he concludes What a dream, we thought that when we came South we would be able to eat our fill of coconuts and bananas. How terribly disappointing. The phrase 44
‘savage land’ has never been more telling. It takes a mere three months for Tamura to evaluate the location to which he has been consigned as a “backwoods.” In a letter written in his diary he laments This place here at the very South is really a backwoods. Only a few natives live here, otherwise there’s no‐one. Coconuts and bananas are unexpectedly scarce. The only specialty of this South country is just mountains and 45
jungles. 39 Tamura 22 ばななも山にはあるそうだ 時々土人やその他の人の持参 するを見るけど未だ一度も 見参出来ざるなり パパイヤもある然れども食膳を 賑わす程はなし 44
Tamura 22 南方に来たら椰子やバナナは 充分に食べられるだろうと思って いた事が余りに夢のようで あったのに今更深歎す 未開の地と言う言葉がこれ程 しみじみとした事なし 45
Tamura 99 現地は南国の果にて本当の藩地です 176
A telling element of this passage is the sense of isolation and the absence of human companionship. Mountains in Japan give a sense of nation and belonging, and in other parts of the diary Tamura is able to draw inspiration from the mountains of New Guinea also. However, in this entry mountains are coupled with the claustrophic surrounds of the jungle, thus heightening Tamura’s sense of alienation and disconnection. This sense is unambiguous in the pathos filled observation, “With the heat, it hurts to realise how far this place is from home.” 46 A Hell‐hole of a Place Among us, it was not enemy action that caused the greatest number of casualties, but rather the harsh conditions under which we lived and worked. […] Rain was frequent, even torrential. Heat, humidity and rain rotted or rusted every sort of material. Our very skins were infected by a variety of “jungle rots” as we called them, fungus that corrupted the skin between fingers and toes, grew on the inside of ears and in severe cases leprously wasted the skin to the bone. Adding to our woes, insects, known and 住む人も稀で極少数の土人より 外居ません 椰子もバナナも案外に少なく南国の 名物は山とジャングル位です 46
Tamura 20 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 遠い異郷が今更に暑さと共に胸に来る 177
unknown, bit and stung constantly. Malaria and other fevers were 47
endemic. The diary of U.S private, Sy Kahn, creates a vivid image of the physical privations encountered by troops fighting in the New Guinea campaign. Tamura’s ability to maintain a sense of self and a sense of country was completely destabilised by his arrival in such a harsh and alien environment. A familiar landscape is a vital component to the continuity of a normal life, an effect that was particularly true for a young man such as Tamura, whose agricultural background was deeply rooted in the nature and climate of the homeland Japan. Contemporary diasporic studies make it clear that physical relocation is always a difficult process. 48 However, in the case of military personnel despatched to the battlefield, the usual anxieties are exacerbated by the radical uncertainty of the battlefield experience. The excerpt cited above from Kahn’s diary leaves no doubt as to the physical ordeal – the debilitating heat and rain, in addition to the wildlife of the area – endured by the troops, both American and Japanese. The density of the jungle terrain contributed further to the eeriness of the soldier’s world. The enemy, then, was 47
Kahn, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. xx. 48
Cheng, Lucy and Katz, Marian, "Migration and Diaspora Communities," in Culture and Society in the Asia‐Pacific, ed. Richard Maidment and Colin Mackerras (London: Routledge, 1998). 65‐87. 178
represented not only by the planes which flew overhead, or the opposing side’s snipers and grenade throwers, but also by the physical environment itself. 49 The impact of these conditions is evident from Tamura’s diary entries. There are repeated references to heat, insects, snakes, crocodiles, feral cats, rain, lack of food, and lack of shelter. He has no comforts, and must use a petrol drum as a bath. 50 Commenting on Watsuji’s theory of climate, Graham Mayeda suggests that it is the necessities of human existence – food, clothing, shelter etc – [which] are not abstract aspects of human life. They take on a concrete form of reflection of the specific environment in which people live, shaping the habits and 51
customs of the people. For Tamura, the complete inadequacy of the necessities referred to above results in a destabilisation of his individual and national self. He asks himself in disbelief at his circumstances – and, we might speculate, in disbelief at the mismatch between his 49
Harries and Harries, Soldiers of the Sun: the Rise and Fall of the Imperial Japanese Army. 404‐405. “Rain fell relentlessly, an inch in as little as five minutes; boots rotted in less than a week. Men staggered along with their arms permanently lifted in the “New Guinea salute” brushing away flies fat from feeding on corpses.” 50
Tamura 43 (translated by Tamura Keiko) ドラム缶風呂に変わりて ひげだるま今日も 浮いてる南国の夕 51
Mayeda, Graham, Time, Space and Ethics in the Philosophy of Watsuji Tetsurō, Kuki Shūzō, and Martin Heidegger (New York: Routledge, 2006). 43. 179
military experiences and the manner in which these experiences are constructed by the homeland propaganda machine ‐ “Is this jungle now our home?” 52 This new jungle home presents two particular physical aspects of landscape which confuse and destabilise Tamura. The first is the unnatural twenty‐four hour gloom and darkness created by the jungle canopy which formed a foreboding backdrop onto which he was able to project his fear and loneliness. This darkness was a physical manifestation which also contained a psychologically or emotionally challenging element resulting from the sensory confusion that overwhelmed the troops. The second element was the jungle as an enclosed and disorientating space from which there was no escape. The ability to locate themselves accurately in a war‐zone, basic to any soldier, was completely disabled in this jungle environment. As Tamura testifies, and is also on record elsewhere, 53 the soldiers wandered around in the jungle, lost, unable to find their bearings. 52
Tamura 50 53
Ogawa Masatsugu, "The Green Desert of New Guinea," in Japan at War: An Oral History, ed. Haruko 住めるジャングル我が里か Taya Cook and Theodore Cook (London: Phoenix Press, 2000). 120 180
The Jungle as Physically Perverse The jungle was dark: constant semi‐twilight during the day, and a forbidding black unknown at night. Peter Schrijvers reports that troops on Goodenough Island became so depressed due to the “day long twilight” that they took to cutting down trees to let in some sunlight and to “chase away the atmosphere of melancholy.” 54 Ogawa Masatsugu, a Japanese soldier who fought in New Guinea wrote The worst was the jungle at night. Even if you attached a white cloth to your pack, it couldn’t be seen […]. Sometimes you’d move swiftly, at other times you slowed to nothing at all. Then you’d shout “Get going!” and find yourself 55
pushing against a tree. Living in a world of shadows during the day, and complete darkness at night exacerbated Tamura’s sense of disconnection so that the comforts of home become increasingly remote. In the primitive jungle, we do not even have candlelight. We get up when the sun rises and go to bed when it gets dark. We labour at the same type of 56
work day after day. This is part of military life. 54
Ibid. 120. 55
Ogawa, "The Green Desert of New Guinea." 269. 56
Tamura 16 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 未開のジャングルに住んでローソクの 光も無く朝に起き夕に伏し 同じ労働に使役しつつ 181
Tamura is patently aware that the glorious prospects promised for him as a soldier of the Empire, and outlined in Chapter Two, are chimeric. Military life in the tropics, in fact, is marked merely by tedium and arduous labour. The night jungle was alive with sounds that prompted the imagination to run wild. In the war‐zone even the fall of a heavy leaf could resemble “a light footstep.” 57 Noises that suggested something remotely human resulted in troops “shooting at anything from birds to falling leaves.” 58 The “unnaturalness” of nature meant that “macaws squealed like children” 59 and that the call of a bird in the forest shadows was like the cry of a kitten. 60 Sentry duty, in particular, was terrifying. Eerily, one by one, the withered twigs fall. A nightbird calls out, just like the snarl of a wild cat. Fruit drops from the trees with a thud. Standing sentry alone in the middle of the night In the middle of the jungle where you don’t know what is one inch ahead, 61
Even for us who are used to the front, is spine‐chilling. 57
As quoted in Schrijvers, Peter, The GI War Against Japan: American Soldiers in Asia and the Pacific during World War II (Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002). 120. 58
Ibid. 121. 59
Ibid. 121. 60
Tamura 46 猫の子のなくかとまがう森蔭に 見馴れぬ鳥の友を呼ぶらん 61
Tamura 39 ぽちり ぽちりと不気味に 梢枯が落ちる 丁度野猫の 182
Although any war‐zone is an abnormal, terrifying environment, we see here that it is the specifics of the jungle environment that generate a particularly debilitating fear. Destabilised by the “long nights and short days,” 62 the lone sentry – a feature of a series of Tamura’s diary entries – is easily unsettled by the unfamiliar sounds and sights of his surrounds. Whether it was “the horror of the wild cat’s snarl” or the threat of “snakes and crocodiles,” even “soldiers who don’t fear the enemy” 63 could be psychologically disarmed by the jungle environment. The enemy was no longer another human face, the fight was not only against the Allied Forces; Tamura’s battle was, in fact, against nature itself. 鳴く様な夜鳥が鳴く ポタリ ポタリと木の実がおちる 一寸先も分からぬジャングルの中に 歩哨の立って深夜の一人立は 戦線なれ志我々でも一寸 どくとくな感じ 歩哨の立って深夜の一人立は 戦線なれ志我々でも一寸 どくとくな感じ 62
Tamura 49 ジャングルに住める我等 の日課時は夜が長くて 昼がみじかき 63
Tamura 39 夜のジャングル歩哨に立てば 野猫がなくよなものすごさ 敵に恐れぬ兵隊達も 蛇やわにには手段なし 183
The Jungle as Disorder The darkness of the jungle and the alien nature of its environment were exacerbated by the bewildering disorientation caused by being enclosed by the canopy. Tamura vividly describes his own perplexity as the equivalent of thinking that the sun rises in the west. 64 On one occasion, having left camp to search for pumpkins, he completely loses his bearings and must rely on his compass for half a day to try to find his way back to base. “I see so many footprints,” he wrote in the diary, “but I have not seen any beasts of prey. I wonder where they are.” 65 Again, in addition to the physical disorientation, the sense of being overwhelmed by the unknown is clearly evident in this entry. There is an interesting contrast here to the position of the castaway, as in the Daniel Defoe classic, Robinson Crusoe (1719). In the case of the castaway, footprints may indicate other humans, a terrifying – although nonetheless promising ‐ prospect. 66 Yet for Tamura, who should also fear the presence of other human beings in the shape of the enemy, it is the wildlife, and therefore nature, that provokes his trauma. 64
Tamura 46 太陽が西から出るかと思う程 ジャングルの中方位分からず 65
Tamura 72 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 足跡は無数にあれど更にまだ 合わぬ 猛獣何處に居るやら 66
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 85. 184
The anonymous writer of one of the Australian War Memorial’s Japanese war diaries echoes Tamura’s disorientation. For several days we have been marching in a jungle where one doesn’t know east from west. With only one compass, [and] depending on footprints on 67
the narrow trail, we pass each cheerless day. Nature in the Southern hemisphere jungle is the exact inversion of the nature that Tamura knows and loves. The diary records a conversation among fellow soldiers. They remember that as children they had been taught that the sun rises in the east, travels to the south and sets in the west. However, now that they have crossed the equator, the sun travels to the north to set in the west. The conversation is written up as a fairly trivial chat between five or six army mates – a form similar to Terry Eagleton’s “phatic” language of the pub referred to in Chapter One. The passage demonstrates that, even in a war‐zone, the duties of the subject of Imperial Japan are a constant of daily life. The reverse of the sun’s course that applies in the South means that Here obeisance to the Imperial Palace is to the north as well, so the change makes me feel very nostalgic about the north. Whether it’s ironic or what, how odd. 68 67
AWM Bulletin No 1430 Item 2 Diary of an Unknown Soldier Bougainville. 68
Tamura 78 赤道をこえて太陽北に見る 何ともない事なれど時とすると まだ太陽は南とばかり思う 185
Tamura’s desire to make sense of the confusion that besets his consciousness recalls Andreea Ritivoi’s argument that nostalgia and longing for the familiar past can cause the physical environment to “become visible and worthy of eliciting aesthetic or emotional response insofar as [it triggers], by resemblance, a familiar imagery retained [in the memory]”. 69 As will become increasingly apparent, Tamura often contradictorily couples the unfamiliar with the nostalgic familiar that arouses in him an even deeper longing. He is, however, powerless to re‐fashion the physical disturbance caused by the destructive force of the New Guinea rain into anything that remotely resembles a familiarity. The Ennui of Endless Rain In Japanese Army Operations in the South Pacific Area, Seven Bullard notes 点呼の宮城遥拝も北向き 所変ると全く北が懐かしいとは 皮肉ともなんとも一人おかしい 69
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 137. 186
in the rainy season from August to December, there would be a deluge almost every evening, which would last into the night. This was the first 70
affliction to be borne by Japanese troops after they landed in New Guinea. From the very beginning of his time in New Guinea, the relentless, ever‐present and overpowering rain causes Tamura to sink into melancholy and even abject despair. He writes “There is hardship in this unfamiliar place where we have no house and get drenched in squalls.” 71 The tedium and the sense of purposelessness and futility that rain brings have been the subject of Japanese writers for over a thousand years. The ninth century poet, Ono no Komachi (825–900), wrote of rain that destroys both flowers and the vitality of life, leaving a dreary, monotonous emptiness. The flowers withered Their colour faded away, While meaninglessly I spent my days in the world 72
And the long rains were falling. 70
Bullard, Japanese Army Operations in the South Pacific Area: New Britain and Papua Campaigns, 1942‐
43. 158. 71
Tamura 5 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 住みなれぬ地の労苦は常に 家なくスコールにぬれる 72
Keene, Donald, Anthology of Japanese Literature (New York: Grove Press Inc, 1955). 34. 187
For the many Japanese who referenced rain in their verse, however, the depressing quality of rain was accompanied by a sense that this was part of a natural cycle that created growth and rebirth, and that also provided nurture for crops. 73 As fellow diarist of the New Guinea campaign, Ogawa Masatsugu, made clear, this was not the case with the New Guinea rains, which, unlike the rains in Japan, were “like a waterfall.” According to Ogawa, soldiers caught in these downpours needed to cover their noses or choke. 74 Like Wada Kiyoshi, 75 another diarist from the New Guinea campaign, Tamura’s strength is totally depleted by the rain, which is so different from the seasonal cycle for which he longs. 76 As Ogawa noted, “It was against all our bringing‐up to sit in the jungle and swamp and be rained upon.” 77 Fighting in the name of the Emperor was almost impossible when one was in a permanent state of being drenched literally to the skin. The persistent rain, falling continuously as if a “woman is weeping,” 78 is a metaphor for the tedium of daily life that stands in the way of Tamura’s noble path of 73
Watsuji Tetsurō, Climate and Culture. 25 and 135. 74
Ogawa, "The Green Desert of New Guinea." 169. 75
AWM ATIS CT 28 (348) Diary of Wada Kiyoshi. Wada writes that he is “wet through from the rain […] no strength left. To do an hour’s work requires a whole day.” See also Ham, Paul, Kokoda (Sydney: Harper Collins, 2005). 501‐504. 76
Tamura 64 77
Ogawa Masatsugu, "The Green Desert of New Guinea." 169. 78
Tamura 52 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 日毎の雨はうらめしい しだしだと女のすすりなく様に 小雨が降る 188
death. There is no contact with the enemy, perhaps due to the relentless rain, and Tamura struggles within its monotony to find the motivation to continue. This lack of motivation is evident in a later entry when, recuperating from a bout of chest pains, Tamura writes “Lonely twilight deepens in the rain‐filled jungle.” 79 With the natural gloom of the jungle exacerbated by the growing twilight and the all pervading rain, Tamura once again foregrounds the sense of isolation by which he is engulfed. This despair at the rain is something that others in his unit share, as is evident in his recording the comment by a friend who mutters despondently as he tries to move his bed away from a leak in the roof, “It’s going to be heavy rain again today, I bet.” 80 The unfamiliar, unsettling rain is not merely discomforting and a de‐
motivating influence; it also initiates a deeper longing for that which is familiar. Tamura’s current home is a tent at the door of which the soldiers must crouch down in order to enter. 81 This undoubtedly creates bodily discomfort, but even more evokes a longing for the familiar home with the solid tiled roof built by his ancestors. 79
Tamura 69 胸痛む病重なり療養す 雨のジャングル物淋しく暮る 80
Tamura 69 雨もりに寝床うつして今日も又 良く降るなあと戦友はつぶやく 81
Tamura 69 止みもせぬ雨期のジャングル 床高く立つままくぐる 天幕小屋かな 189
We stay inside a house that we built. Whenever it rains, I miss my house at home. 82
I miss a roof with roof tiles. The rain has alienated him from his own personal connections to generations past expressed in the concrete form of the family home in Tochigi. For Tamura, the rain has pervaded his physical and psychological being to such an extent that it too has become the enemy, more confounding than the nationally designated foe in the form of the fire power of the Allied troops. Watsuji argued that destructive aspects of climate can be “so vast that man is obliged to abandon all hope of resistance and is forced into mere passive resignation.” 83 So unfavourable is Tamura’s situation that he even begins to covet the shelter of the indigenous people which, unlike the flimsy tents supplied by the Imperial Japanese Army, was made to withstand the local climatic conditions. Endless Rain The May rain keeps leaking into our tent. 82
Tamura 64 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 自分で作ったこの家で 雨に会う度思うのは 故郷の家がなつかしい 瓦の屋根がなつかしい 83
Watsuji Tetsurō, Climate and Culture. 19. 190
I am so envious of the natives’ houses. 84 The persistent rain threatens Tamura’s ability to remain positive about his role as a soldier in New Guinea. In one particularly desolate entry he observes a baby cicada being washed away in a tropical deluge. 85 Clearly, the tiny creature is a metonymn for Tamura himself, tossed about in the war‐zone. His empathy with the insect reveals his depressed state of mind. Insect metaphors are, in fact, a common form of disparagement in Japan. In the works of burakumin writer, Nakagami Kenji (1946–1992), characters live in the impoverished roji like insects. 86 The classic movie Insect Woman, (1963), by director Imamura Shōhei (1926–2006), tells of the eponymous protagonist’s struggle for survival against the perversity of life. 87 Rather than experiencing the glory due to a loyal standard bearer of Imperial Japan, Tamura, too, has been reduced by “day after day of the rain” to this sort of debased existence, where his only hope is “Sheltering from the rain, together with the insects under a coconut palm.” 88 However, 84
Tamura 98 だらだら雨 五月雨天幕の中にもりつづき 土人の家をうらめしく思う 85
Tamura 69 洪水に流され来しか蝉の子は 止り木求めくびをあちこち 86
Nakagami Kenji, The Cape and Other Stories, trans. Eve Zimmerman (California: Stone Bridge Press, 1999). 15‐16. 87
Quandt, James, ed., Shōhei Imamura (Toronto: Toronto International Film Festival Group, 1997). 18. The Insect Woman in fact “lives outside society.” 88
Tamura 64 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 191
even the insects have the upper hand. In one entry entitled “Rain,” while “the cicada chirps, so happily,” the “soldiers huddle” together pathetically through a night squall, trying to avoid the leaks in their tent. 89 Throughout his time in New Guinea it was often the rain, rather than his mission as a soldier of the Empire, that threatened to rule Tamura’s existence. The “unnatural” rain in New Guinea wreaked havoc and set in motion “the destruction of the weakest components […] Mould clung to cotton clothing and towels, giving off nauseating smells.” 90 The rot also found its way into canvas so that “most tents leaked within six months and in another six months were useless.” 91 One soldier diarist related how “in the morning when I get up and put on my trousers and shirt, they have been wet for days.” 92 Even food is destroyed by the dreaded rain, as suggested by Tamura in the following entry: 雨宿り虫も一緒で 椰子の陰 89
Tamura 108 五月雨の晴れま嬉や蝉のこえ 夜毎降るスコールにくし天幕小屋 雨漏りに兵隊みんな丸くなり 90
Schrijvers, The GI War Against Japan. 117. 91
Ibid 117. 92
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 1430 Item 2 Diary Bougainville. 192
For a tropical place it is not very hot, but the humidity is so high that everything gets mouldy. There is too much moisture in the air. The dried 93
bread in our knapsacks is white with mould and we can’t eat it. Plagued by the incessant rain, a natural phenomenon the effect of which is beyond his control, Tamura nevertheless does his best to deal with the circumstances in which he finds himself. However, the personal, physical and psychological resources needed to deal with problems of this nature are severely compromised by the constant lack of nourishing food. The Spectre of Starvation The condition of Japanese soldiers in New Guinea is well documented. Sy Kahn vividly described the physiques of Japanese troops who were captured in New Guinea as for “the most part, a pathetic‐looking lot, ill‐coloured, ill‐fed, emaciated and very weak. They were so thin that the worst ones looked like walking skeletons.” 94 This description is hardly surprising. As Iizuka Eiji, a soldier in Wewak recorded in his diary, 93
Tamura 79 熱帯の地としては余り暑くない 然るに湿気だけは何でも かびる程強し 大気中の水分多すぎるのだ 背のうに入れし乾パンも 白くかびて食べられぬ 94
Kahn, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. 120. 193
“there was no such thing as rice to be eaten.” 95 Since, as noted above, there was little food to be had from the local people, malnutrition and starvation were often part of daily war‐zone life. The food of the homeland was an important part of the lofty symbols of Japan’s superior uniqueness as preached by kokutai discourses. 96 In addition to being seen as a key tool to instil a sense of community and nurture, food also played an integral part in elevating the role of the soldier in the community. Emiko Ohnuki‐
Tierney states that White rice, that is domestic rice, was constructed to represent the purity of the Japanese self. The government told civilians that the Japanese rice was 97
sent to soldiers at the front to give them energy to win the war. Apart from the obvious nurture for soldiers, during the military era many foodstuffs, especially rice, were used for nationalistic purposes by the elite who tried to establish Japan’s national identity and promote patriotism among the people. Nationalistic bentō 95
Iizuka Eiji. Papua no bōkon: tōbu nyūginia gyokusai hiroku. (Tokyo: Nihon Shūhōsha), 1962. 190. 96
Popular magazines assured the readers that the soldiers were eating well. One article read “They blow on their steaming miso soup served with boiled rice mixed with wheat. The rookies are growing like young oak trees on three meals a day which they eat with gusto. ‘Wow! This morning there are eggs and fermented soy beans!’ Their tough willpower and bullet‐like flesh is conditioned by such ample nourishment.” Earhart, Certain Victory. 91. 97
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Emiko, Rice as Self (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1993). 93. 194
(lunch boxes) were created, with variations that included “rice in a cone, shaped like Mt Fuji, with a paper rising sun flag on top.” 98 The principal ration accorded for Japanese troops per man per day was 600g of cleaned rice. 99 Tamura is unhappy with the lack of variety in his allocated ration and he writes Completely fed up with the same daily allowance of food, the long serving soldiers make great efforts to find some new food. But there is little chance of that here.
100
As we have already noted, Japanese supply lines were poorly administered and many soldiers complained of lack of food. Soldiers despatched to New Guinea were told they “could eat off the land in this campaign.” 101 This contrasted markedly to the situation in China where, “large supplies of rice were always available.” 102 98
Ibid. 99
AWM ATIS CT 114 (1251). This was in addition to 30g of canned meat, 20g of powdered miso, 20g of powdered soy, 10g of meat, 10g of various fruit together with a small supply of sugar and salt. 100
Tamura 80 毎日同じ食物給与で すっかりあきれた古参兵何かと 口珍しいものを探すに苦心 あるはずがない現地 101
AWM ATIS IR No 87 Serial 144 Interrogation Report on Kato Kumio. 102
Ibid. 195
Some soldiers were able to live off the land. An unknown Japanese soldier in Milne Bay, New Guinea wrote that “I ate coconuts, papayas, apples and mountain potatoes […] it is hard to believe I am still alive.” 103 However, on the first anniversary of the Pacific War, another soldier wrote that he had not eaten anything for five days. 104 His experience was typical of by many others, one of whom observed that “anyone would want to eat a bellyful. No one has the strength to work and if you lie on your side you stay that way […] we have no strength to get up when we stumble on a root of a tree or a rock.” Although this writer realized that soldiers are trained to deal with hardships, he wrote “are there any battles as difficult as this?” 105 Wada Kiyoshi, another New Guinea soldier diarist, wrote at length of the struggles associated with prolonged hunger. The privations were such that soldiers like Wada realised that if he ate tonight he may not be able to eat tomorrow. He lamented that “it is indeed a painful experience to be hungry.” 106 When rice rations were not available Wada ate coconut and octopus, and the following day snakes. As his diary progressed and his conditions worsened, Wada complained that “starvation is a terrible 103
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 44, Diary of an Unknown Soldier, Milne Bay, September 194. 104
AWM ATIS CT 57 (633) Diary of Kawano Susumu. 105
AWM ATIS CT 64 (713) Diary of an Unknown Soldier. 106
AWM ATIS CT 28 (348) Diary of Wada Kiyoshi. 196
thing. It seems all the grass and roots have already been eaten in the Giruwa area.” 107 This comment clearly demonstrates the devastation of the environment and the lack of available foodstuffs to sustain the troops. Another diarist recorded how there was “not a single grain of rice left” reducing him to “chew grass or bark.” Furthermore, he recognises that “Never till now did I realise the true meaning of the saying ‘a full belly counsels well.’” 108 Tamura recognises the pointlessness of worrying about food. Here in the mountains where we rarely even see natives, it’s futile to be concerned about food […] All we ever talk about is food. Isn’t there something with which we can relieve the boredom of this Southern land?
109
While it might be futile, worrying about food nevertheless consumes the soldiers’ thoughts. The grandiose ideology that sent these troops to New Guinea has been reduced to simple, primitive scrabbling for survival. Having been completely failed by the ideology that should have given troops a common goal, disaffection and even hostility arise. Wada Kiyoshi reports that he has become so hungry that “it is difficult to 107
Ibid. 108
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 358 Diary of Sakamoto (first name not listed). 109
Tamura 80 土人さえも稀に見るこの山中に 食べ物を心配する方が無理 何時も食べ物の事ばかり 南国のつれづれに何かないかな 197
control evil thoughts […] I ate Kinoshita and Okazaki’s rice rations.” 110 The lowering of morale, caused generally by lack of food, fatigue and even lack of action, meant a decline in the disciplined response which had been the fundamental requirement of the kokutai. As Tomoko Aoyama notes, food serves “as a means of communicating and acting out our religious, political, philosophical and cultural views or of expressing a range of emotions.” 111 Being deprived of the foods of home had a particularly debilitating impact on troops. The absence of rice was especially significant given that this grain was seen as the embodiment of Japan, 112 and an important part of the lofty symbols of Japan’s superior uniqueness as preached by kokutai discourses. Aoyama argues that Food nourishes and poisons; it soothes and tortures, divides as it unites individuals and groups of people […]. It also serves as a means of 110
AWM ATIS CT 28 (348) Diary of Wada Kiyoshi. While Wada’s captured diary does not relate any information about cannibalism, in his later memoir he confesses to having sampled human flesh due to excessive hunger. See Hayes, Carol, "Putting the Record Straight: The Memoirs of Private Kiyoshi Wada," The Journal of the Oriental Society of Australia. 39‐40, no. Part 1 (2007/8). 243. Other records of cannibalism may be found in AWM ATIS Bull 183, Unknown Soldier Diary p 11. 111
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 2. 112
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Rice as Self. The soul of a rice grain is also known as kami known as Uka no Kami. 51. “Rice was for a long time considered to provide sacred energy and power.” 74. 198
communicating and acting out our religious, political, philosophical and cultural views or of expressing a range of emotions.
113
Devoid of the comfort of home and deprived of not only familiar food, but of even a reasonable amount of food, despondency overwhelms Tamura. According to Gilmore, a study undertaken on the relationship between lack of food and the overall morale of Japanese troops concluded that “Japanese troops who felt the food supplies were inadequate also had considerably less spiritual and emotional resilience.” 114 The drop in both morale and morality was in direct conflict with the kokutai’s requirement of “grateful service to the country.” 115 The Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors, still an important basis in 1943 for the military’s adherence to the kokutai, required that soldiers “should make simplicity their aim since a ‘fondness for luxurious and extravagant ways’ is destructive to loyalty, bravery, martial spirit and morale.” 116 One unknown diarist was saddened and disgusted to recount that when supplies did arrive, including condensed milk for the field hospital, these were frequently looted by the troops. He wrote that “there are among soldiers those who are 113
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 2. 114
Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks With Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 78. 115
Ibid. 45. 116
Ibid. 45. 199
unworthy of the name.” 117 Such incidents were not isolated, with another captured Imperial Japanese Army diary referring to the murder of friendly troops for rations. 118 Those who were caught for crimes of this nature were, according to a captured diary, shot without delay. This latter diary noted that “even in the Japanese Army old friendships dissolve when men are starving. Each man is trying to satisfy his own hunger. It’s much more frightening than meeting the enemy’s assault. There is a vicious war going on within our ranks.” 119 This destruction of cohesion and morale among the troops threatened to shake the foundations of the men’s faith in an ideology which had promised spiritual and physical nurture, and the glorious prospect of a noble death. While “shortage of rations is a normal condition,” 120 starvation was never envisaged. The soldier’s handbook for the South West Pacific, entitled Read This Only and the War is Won, 121 included a section headed “Sleep Well and Eat Well” in which troops were warned that “lack of sleep and an empty stomach are the chief 117
AWM ATIS CT 14 (177) Diary of Unknown Soldier. 118
See AWM ATIS RR 122 “Antagonism between officers and men in the Japanese Armed Forces.” (19 April 1945). 119
Ibid. 120
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 1158 “Hints for the Soldier” p 61. 121
AWM 94 FELO Box C 514 Undated “Read This Only and the War is Won.” See also Dower, War Without Mercy. 26. 200
causes of sunstroke.” 122 In a cruel parody of the conditions experienced by Imperial Japanese Army units in New Guinea, the document ludicrously called upon the men to “force ourselves to eat rather than let our stomachs become empty.” 123 The reality for soldiers, though, was that “the effect of the ration shortage is to make [men] look for grass and tree roots.” 124 In spite of these dire straits, however, some persisted in preserving a sense of the tatemae (keeping up appearances). The diary of a soldier rescued from Goodenough Island 125 reports that, although starving and emaciated, his unit was instructed not to show a haggard appearance when boarding the rescue vessel. In his attempt at bushidō pride, this writer quoted the saying, “the samurai displays a toothpick even when he hasn’t eaten”. 126 122
AWM 94 FELO Box C 514 Undated “Read This Only and the War is Won.” For more on this see also Barrell, Tony and Tanaka, Rick, Higher than Heaven: Japan, War and Everything (Strawberry Hills, Australia: Private Guy International, 1995). 76‐77. 123
AWM 94 FELO Box C 514 Undated “Read This Only and the War is Won.” For more on this see also Ibid. 76‐77. 124
AWM ATIS Bulletin 1430 Item 2 Diary of an Unknown Soldier, Bougainville. 125
Goodenough Island is in the Milne Bay province of Papua New Guinea, lying east of the mainland in the Solomon Sea. Battle between the Japanese forces and the Australian forces took place in October 1942, with the Japanese being defeated. 126
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 176 Diary of an Unknown Soldier, Goodenough Island. 201
One soldier wrote “[we] are not even half sufficiently fed. What do I care about the war? From today we’ll all sleep the afternoon through!” 127 There was an underside to this sense of resignation caused by the fact that many enlisted men and conscripts soon realised that officers, supposedly Imperial Japanese Army exemplars, were discrediting the kokutai ideology by withholding food from their men. Many recorded in their diaries how thin and haggard they had become while the members of the upper echelons continued to eat well. Wada Kiyoshi wrote, “At the present time, all officers, even though there is such a scarcity of food, eat relatively well. The condition is one in which the majority are starving. (The higher officials are not starving.)” 128 The belief of many soldiers in the ideology of Imperial Japan and their willingness to comply with this body of teachings was often severely compromised by this bitter realisation. Although The Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors required that soldiers “must observe propriety by knowing their proper place in the hierarchy and fulfilling their obligations inherent to that position,” 129 the document also made it clear that, “Officers must treat their subordinates with consideration.” 130 Not only did the hierarchical 127
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 731 Diary of an Unknown Soldier, p 7. 128
AWM ATIS CT 28 (348) Diary of Wada Kiyoshi. 129
Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks With Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 45. 130
Ibid. 202
inequities let the troops down, this was also a violation of the principles according to which the ideal machine of the Japanese military was intended to operate. We noted above Tanaka Hiromi’s observation that the Japanese campaign in the South was poorly planned and clumsily executed, resulting in Aoyama’s “torture” rather than the “soothing” function of food. 131 The incompetence of the senior command in this respect was also evident in the attempt to cultivate crops completely unsuited to the environment. Tamura writes of the men’s disappointment when an attempt to grow canola results in little more than “thin stems” with “two little leaves on the top.” 132 While Tamura’s disappointment at the canola failure is undoubtedly due to lack of nourishment, there is also a distinct sense of yearning to sustain himself with a familiar food source. The German proverb “Der Mensch ist was er isst” (Man is what he eats) comes to mind. 133 In addition to other elements of home, the unifying characteristics of traditional food sources have been stripped from these soldiers, 131
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 2. 132
Tamura 65 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 野菜ほしさに播いた菜種が 糸の様に細く伸びて 一番上に葉の小さいのが二枚程 出て来ました 133
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Rice as Self. 3. 203
rendering them further displaced and disoriented. To cite Aoyama’s words quoted above, food for Tamura functioned “both as a pleasure that brings people together and as a cause for conflict, struggle, compromise, oppression, manipulation and corruption.” 134 The soldiers’ attempts to transplant their familiar landscape have proved impossible. Not only have the authorities’ commands to grow food obviously been based on ignorance, Tamura’s despondency at an inability to produce food as a farmer exacerbates his desolation. 135 Disease, Illness and Utter Fatigue Throughout the diary, it is evident that Tamura is plagued by his own ill health and tormented by the presence of illnesses among other members of his troop. Tamura is afflicted with malaria, a scourge of the New Guinea war‐zone. One Imperial Japanese Army soldier interrogated as a prisoner of war related that approximately fifteen men from his division had died from malaria, which had afflicted the majority of personnel, with at least 50 per cent hospitalized. 136 Another captive recorded that about twenty‐five per cent of his company were always down with malaria and other 134
Aoyama Tomoko, Reading Food in Modern Japanese Literature. 45. 135
Tamura 71 種子播けど太陽照らず唯細く 伸びる野菜に希望空しく 136
AWM ATIS IR No 207 Serial No 307. 204
sicknesses, including skin diseases. 137 Tamura’s hope, as he confidently writes, is that “compared with the malaria in Central China, I heard that this one is more difficult to treat, but I might be able to recover quickly.” 138 The humidity of New Guinea resulted in the rotting away of not only fabric and materials, but also the soldiers themselves. Peter Schrijver documents that “rashes, sores [and] blisters […] festered malevolently on knuckles, wrists, feet, ankles, bellies, chests, armpits and crotches.” 139 Gastric ailments resulted in pain, weight loss and exhaustion and, for some, even death. With an abundance of dead bodies and rotting flesh, insects multiplied in greater numbers in the theatre of war. 140 While malaria was the most deadly of insect borne fevers, especially for those already weakened by hunger and exhaustion, 141 mosquitoes also brought dengue fever. In addition, lice and ticks spread typhus, fleas carried the plague and mites brought scrub typhus. Scrub typhus (tsutsugamushi) caused small haemorrhages throughout the 137
AWM ATIS IR No 230A Serial 345 p 9. 138
Tamura 105 (translated by Keiko Tamura) (note that translation gives cholera rather than malaria.) 中支のマラリヤに比して悪性とは 言いながらこの分だと全快早 139
Schrijvers, The GI War Against Japan. 128. 140
Ibid. 128. 141
Schrijvers notes that “at the start of the New Guinea campaign, malaria claimed four times more Allied casualties than did Japanese weapons.” Ibid. 131. 205
victim’s body, with an outbreak among American troops on Goodenough Island claiming one in every four victims. 142 The horrendous conditions under which soldiers were forced to exist were recorded by a prisoner of war who told of soldiers standing in swamp water up to their armpits while continuously suffering from malaria which resulted in 40 degree body temperatures. The lack of vitamin B in soldiers’ diets caused torime or night blindness. With this affliction, the troops were only able to see items in the clear light of daytime, which was almost non‐existent in the jungle terrain. Lack of nutrition also caused deafness which reduced the soldiers to “such a state of delirium that their only reaction was to discharge their rifles in the general direction of any sound they might hear.” 143 Tamura records how the illnesses constantly dogging him and his fellow soldiers are breaking down their morale. “Since many of us are sick and do not feel well, our fighting spirit seems to be low.” 144 Of course, illness and disease were an 142
Ibid. 132. 143
AWM ATIS IR Report 90 Serial 95, Hosoda Tetsuo, p 12. 144
Tamura 3 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 全く閉口している 病の為かこの頃元気なく 兵隊の士気低き感あり 206
occupational hazard for soldiers of all nationalities in New Guinea. However, for Japanese soldiers, the burden of illness was further exacerbated by the Army’s unforgiving requirement for soldiers to fight regardless of their states of health. Tamura alludes to the declining fitness of his fellow soldiers. A month and a half after we landed here, there has been a rise in the number of patients in the hospital, two from our squad, as if an overreaction against the regimental commander’s orders to build up our battle fitness.
145
Reference to the regimental commander’s exhortations remind us that the Imperial Japanese Army regarded sickness as a dereliction of duty, 146 and allowing oneself to become sick attracted “a punishment of a period of incarceration not to exceed three years.” 147 Fatigue associated with the constant pressures of battle and the harshness of the environment meant that, for soldiers like Komatsu Rokuzō, there was 145
Tamura 24 上陸一ヶ月半ばにして入院患者 続出せり 分隊より二名 連隊長の訓示 戦力増進せよに 反する事大なり 146
It seems there were some who feigned illness as reported in comments on spiritual training by Lieutenant Colonel Kawano regarding the Bougainville campaign. He stated that “there were those who pretended to be sick and avoided duty, who inflicted wounds upon themselves and withdrew from the battlefield; who were ordered to catch up with their units, but idled about.” CICSPF TCJD Item 1353 Comments on Spiritual Training. 147
AWM ATIS Bulletin No 515 – Extracts from Court Martials and Punishments. 207
“no time to rest the body.” He records that “all my comrades are tired from constant vigilance, and […] countless […] days without food.” 148 Of course, these were the optimum conditions for illness to develop. The pressure under which soldiers operated in this respect is clear from Tamura’s diary confirmation of the need to be well at all times. He writes that, “I shout my responses with false cheerfulness, while my body is weary.” 149 Tamura tries hard to fulfil his duties as a soldier of the Empire despite his illnesses and fatigue. While hastening to assure the reader – and himself ‐ that he is “not afraid,” Tamura notes that “my illnesses multiply, my head aches.” In spite of these trials the diarist nevertheless commits to “continue my labour, resolutely wearing my headband.” 150 The command that “there will be no half‐hearted soldiers” 151 spurs Tamura on, even under the dire circumstances in which he finds himself. Other soldiers expressed disillusionment, with one, disheartened by the officers’ uncaring attitude 148
AWM ATIS CT 140 (1480) Diary of Komatsu Rokuzo. 149
Tamura 62 空元気でも良いからと 大声に返事しつつも身体疲れて 150
Tamura 101 恐れねど病重なり頭痛む 鉢巻しつつ作業をつづく 151
AWM ATIS CT 47 (494) Messages and Directions to Troops from Japanese Commander in New Guinea, Maj‐General Yamagata Tsuyuo, Commander of the Buna Detachment 17 December, 1942. 208
toward the men who were ill, complaining that they “just think the worst of us.” 152 The neglect of senior officers and their inability to convey to their troops a sense of nurture and unity is a further cause for the lowering of morale, and thereby a threat to their adherence to the philosophy of the kokutai. Submitting to Power The requirement for soldiers to avoid individualistic behaviour and to obey orders at all costs was reiterated in an address delivered by a superior officer in Lae. On this occasion troops were urged to follow the rules of combat, and never do anything your own way. No matter whom the enemy or what the lay of the land, one must strictly follow the regulation manual because it is the source of all information and does not require any alteration.
153
This demand for blind obedience was often a cover for the petty mediocrity and self‐
importance of the upper echelons who, at times, leave Tamura contemptuous of the system which the kokutai ideology extolled. 152
AWM ATIS CT 116 (1279) Diary of an Unknown Soldier. 153
AWM ATIS CT72 (826) Moto Intelligence Report. 209
The duty of a soldier is to carry out his tasks without complaining. Yet, somebody who does not have any worth as a person can throw his weight around just because he has the senior rank. Some things that are totally useless seem to be taken for granted in the military system. This is a peculiar characteristic of the military clique.
154
These “things that are totally useless” were not always of a trivial nature. An interrogated soldier expressed his bitterness about the fact that officers would always be the first to be evacuated, leaving the rank and file to either die or surrender. 155 Another prisoner claimed that the Japanese army was “modelled on Spartan lines and discipline was maintained at the highest pitch. Instant obedience was demanded and in no case could a command or order be questioned. The spirit of yamato damashii was only obtained by this rigid training.” 156 One Japanese soldier imprisoned in Australia complained that he was “disgusted with his war experience and resentful of the selfish attitude of the Japanese 154
Tamura 102 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 不平不満なき事が兵の本分 人としたら何の価値なき人が 上官なる故に威張る 組織の上からして全く矛盾 した事が当然とされる所に 軍隊の社会ばなれした 所がある 155
AWM ATIS IR No 71 Serial 122 p 8 Yamakami Y. 156
AWM IR 147 Serial No 229 Uyehara T. 210
officers on Bougainville.” He reported that they fed themselves first, and only leftovers, if any, were fed to the enlisted men. He also complained that if any of the enlisted men performed an act of bravery, the officers would take full credit. His experience had been that “discipline was severe [and] food and clothing were scarce.” 157 The scathing criticism of officer behaviour in New Guinea extended to accusations that “the only people who make sleeping every day in the jungle their work are the officers.” For the soldier who made this claim, the senior personnel never thought of the hardships of the men. He further accused them of treating their men “like natives.” 158 Captured soldiers frequently related stories of officers deserting their men and leaving them to fend for themselves. In fact, there seemed to have been a propensity for many senior officers to escape during times of crisis and leave the soldiers to their fate. 159 One Japanese prisoner of Australian troops stated that he and another companion, who was suffering from malaria and had to be carried, existed in the jungle for about a month after being abandoned. 160 Another, reported to have been “more dead than alive when captured,” 161 was incensed at being abandoned while sick. 157
AWM South Pacific Area and Force Headquarters of the Commander IR No 354. 158
AWM ATIS CT 116 (1279) Diary of an Unknown Soldier, Roosevelt Ridge, p 62. 159
See for example AWM ATIS IR No 229 Serial 343 p5, IR No 254 Serial 380 p7, IR No 71 Serial 122, p 8. 160
AWM ATIS IR No 211 Serial 317 p 7. 161
AWM ATIS IR No 286 Serial 422. 211
These occurrences were completely outside the code of behaviour the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors had set down. The role of superior officers was that of proxy to the Emperor himself, and, as instruments of the Emperor’s will, soldiers were expected to obey superior officers without hesitation. However, superior officers “should never treat inferiors with contempt or arrogance [but] make kindness their chief aim.” 162 The powerlessness of the soldiers in the harsh jungle battling rain, disease and starvation (let alone the superior equipment of the enemy) was severely exacerbated by the drudgery of the tasks to which they were assigned. A Chinese proverb quoted by a soldier to describe the situation he and his companions found themselves in stated that, “To hell with the boys on the firing line, as long as the [higher ups] are doing fine.” 163 Associated with this resentment at officer behaviour was the realisation that, rather than glory, service for the Empire was little more than drudgery and humiliation. 162
From the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors as cited in Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 83. 163
AWM ATIS CT 111 (1225) Diary of Kuroki Toshio. 212
For many, joining the army did not bring the noble role of the warrior but was simply “tantamount to throwing your life away.” 164 As a soldier of five years, Tamura was disappointed with the menial nature of his tasks and he complained that Today we again pulled the luggage carts, weaving our way through the coconut groves. So this is our campaign! I just can’t help feeling what a strange employment!
165
The absolute exhaustion caused by his role is vividly expressed in the following poem. Under the blazing sun, Soldiers construct airfields With sweat and without words.
166
The onomatopoeic expressions ‐ (daku daku, moku moku) ‐ express the writer’s intensity of emotion, and paint a vivid picture of the incredible harshness of his role, “with sweat and without words.” Soldiers had no option but to silently and painfully dog away at their lowly tasks. 164
AWM ATIS IR No 30 Serial 42 Ishiguro Kiyoshi. 165
Tamura 17 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 今日も又椰子の木の間を縫って 荷車を引く これが作戦だ 思いつつ変な使役の感禁じ 得ざるべからず 166
Tamura 45 炎天に汗だくだくの兵は 唯黙々と飛行場を作りぬ 213
Other diarists also bemoaned their ignoble role. One soldier wrote of himself as a dark pathetic warrior (covered with sweat and dust) with long hair – what a sight – this is what makes us so strong, and thinking thus tears come to my eyes […] Who wouldn’t cry from this feeling – we who have suffered the same hardships and difficulties of a soldier.
167
Yet another related that at thirty years of age, in spite of all he had experienced, he was only a horse guard. Seeing a transport ship departing, he wished he could be on it returning home again. However, he remained committed to his role by affirming to himself that it was his duty to “serve until the objective has been attained.” 168 Tamura’s continued lowering of morale due to the life he is leading now within the army is illustrated more fully in a later entry. We are generally in bad shape. In spite of our superior’s words, our fighting spirit has been in decline. It might be to do with working too hard or malnutrition. No, no. It was not like this at the beginning. Military life is never exciting, but the current situation is not at all rewarding. 169
167
AWM ATIS CT 140 (1480) Diary of Komatsu Rokuzo. 168
AWM ATIS CT 1 (38) Diary of an Unknown Soldier. 169
Tamura 102 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 一般に元気なし何故上の注意にも かかわらず士気低きや 作業の無理か 栄養の不足か 214
Here, Tamura is very aware that there is no glory in military life; it is not what the kokutai had promised it to be. Tamura knew implicitly that service to the Emperor meant sacrifice and hardship. The kokutai had dictated that soldiers would forsake all else for their duty, which was “weightier than a mountain.” 170 Loyalty and devotion was one thing, but Tamura’s current situation was outside the boundaries of all he had been taught to expect. In spite of the exhortations by the officers spouting kokutai ideology, no doubt expressed in bushidō vocabulary, Tamura and his fellow soldiers find themselves in a spiritual, mental and psychological decline rather than being encouraged. Another diarist wonders if “it is only I who am thinking foolishly.” He recognizes that “to live in groups and be ordered by all the higher‐ups is military service.” However, the fact that “an individual’s opinion doesn’t carry very far [makes this soldier] very sad.” 171 The rigid hierarchical relations of the Imperial Japanese Army thus undermined the tenets of the kokutai. The Way of the Subject which we examined in Chapter Two had demanded that “Japanese subjects adhere to the traditional virtues 否々面白くないのだ 元より 軍隊は面白い所でない 然れども 余りにも張合いのない現況だ 170
Monbushō, The Imperial Precepts to Soldiers and Sailors. Page numbers not present in the document. 171
AWM ATIS CT 1 (38) Diary of an Unknown Soldier. 215
that made them a superior people: loyalty, patriotism, obedience to authority, and martial spirit.” 172 Soldiers perceived themselves as possessing and displaying all of these qualities. Therefore, when their service was undervalued, their willingness to follow the orders of superiors was severely compromised. Life could not have been more isolating, particularly when contact with home was virtually non‐existent. Communication Breakdown Letters from home are a sustaining force in the life of soldiers in any conflict. Sy Kahn expressed his joy at receiving mail when he wrote “we heard a blessed sound – ‘Mail call!’ Having received only six letters in the last month, I knew I would have some. I got 27, along with two long‐awaited packages.” 173 Pte Ernest Uno, a nisei (second generation Japanese) soldier in the United States Armed Forces in the Second World War, wrote to his sister, Mae, who was in an internment camp. Any little thing we do to divert our mind and keep us busy when the fighting comes to a temporary halt, relaxes the nerves and rests our bodies. That’s why receiving mail from home is so important. I’ve got a bunch of letters in 172
Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 53. 173
Kahn, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. 67. 216
my pocket that are dirty and falling apart […] I know almost each of them word for word, ‘cause I’ve read and reread them so often.
174
Although Japanese soldiers in the China campaign had received fairly frequent news from home, 175 in New Guinea most received nothing. A survey of seventy‐two prisoners of war revealed that fifty‐five had received no mail since arriving in the South West Pacific. 176 Tamura also laments the lack of news from Japan. I have not received any letters since I left home and that makes me feel very sad. Only those who have experienced military life, filled with duties and regulations, could understand how I feel.
177
Letters from home could have provided Tamura with the emotional support to face the challenges of life as a soldier, particularly in such an alien 174
Carroll, Andrew, ed., War Letters: Extraordinary Correspondence from American Wars (New York, London, Toronto, Sydney, Singapore: Scribner, 2001). 225. 175
Earhart, Certain Victory. 161. Smethurst, A Social Basis for Prewar Japanese Militarism. 152‐154. Young, Japan's Total Empire. 174. 176
AWM ATIS RR 40 “Japanese Army Postal Service” (4 October 1943) [Information Request Report, Serial No 79]. 177
Tamura 6 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 一別以来唯一度の便りもなく 無情をさげみ居る事と思う 軍隊生活の多忙又規則 知る人のみの味わう感境なり 217
environment. These letters, however, never arrived. All the more disappointing was the realisation that his family had probably received nothing from him either. 178 It has been some months since I left home. I wonder if my letters have reached my family, But their letters still have not arrived. I never thought I would return home safely, But the solitude blemishes a soldier’s heart.
179
Perhaps overshadowing the comfort and support that the soldiers needed from letters from home, was the need to be reassured that “the families they had left behind could manage to survive.” 180 The fact that no letters arrived 181 was another betrayal by the ideology of the Emperor and its proponents. Eventually Tamura writes quite evocatively of the desolation: “We are even sick of sending news home: there are no postcards to send anyway, there is a shortage of everything.” 182 178
Tamura’s younger brother reveals that he in fact sent letters to his older brother every day that he was away. Obviously none of those reached Tamura, and certainly his brother received none back from him. 179
Tamura 43 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 故郷を出てから幾月ぞ 我の便りの着きしか否や 家の便りは更になし 生きて還ると思ねど何故か しらない淋しさは 兵の心にしみとおる 180
Kano Masanao, "The Significance of Military Mail for the Soldier." 60. 181
Iizuka Eiji, Papua No Bokon: Tōbu Nyū Ginia gyokusai hiroku (Tokyo: Nihon Shūshōsha, 1962). 190. 182
Tamura 80 故郷に出す便りもあきた 218
Sadly, Tamura notes that “The hot tea we received on the jetty from the Women’s Association was the last gift of our homeland.” 183 One prisoner of war interrogated after capture revealed that in campaigns prior to the Pacific War, he had received mail regularly from his family, together with comfort bags, but since then “in nearly two years he had received only one letter.” 184 Watsuji Testurō noted the social disruption when communication is denied when the structure of society is weakened because of damage to the system by means of which the public community is maintained, the transfer of knowledge and information is hampered, and the opinions and speculations of individuals is able to take over.
185
Watsuji used the example of a village whose communication lines were cut off by an earthquake. The fact that the population was unable to receive news from the outside effectively left the village alienated and out of touch. Nevertheless, even in their 出すはがきなく 現品不足 183
Tamura 32 桟橋上にて受けし婦人会の 湯茶も祖国の名残り 184
AWM ATIS IR 141 Serial 220 Comfort bags were reported to have been received regularly in China see AWM ATIS IR No 120 pps 1 and 4. 185
Watsuji Tetsurō, Watsuji Tetsurō's Rinrigaku, trans. Yamamoto Seisaku and Robert Carter (New York: State City of New York Press, 1996). 159 ‐ 167. 219
physical isolation the presence of all that was heimlich allowed them to still remain as a cohesive social unit. In the case of soldiers, who were already physically isolated and disconnected from their society, the added isolation caused by lack of communication with their familiar world served to heighten their sense of individual rights. An example of this was one soldier who wrote “No mail from home. Why don’t letters come? As a soldier I have a right to receive mail from the homeland […] Maybe it’s moaning, but if the mail doesn’t come, it’s a soldier’s privilege to moan.” 186 Lack of mail then worked against the tenets of the kokutai on two fronts. First, it disconnected the soldiers from the familiar landscape of family and community, and secondly, it provoked individualistic thought and action. With this lack of mail from home, Tamura, too, finds himself losing his sense of belonging and questions his role as a soldier, an individualistic response inappropriate to a servant of the Emperor. With no letters to connect the soldiers to the outside, familiar world, communication between the soldiers, particularly about home, also dies. Tamura writes that even “our comrades are sick of telling romantic stories of 186
AWM ATIS CT1 (38) Diary of an Unknown Soldier. 220
home.” 187 Home fades further and further away and with it the sense of community that has bound the soldiers together; there is no camaraderie, no support network to reinforce soldiers’ commitment to and nurture by the kokutai ideology. This severance is illustrated by Roberta Rubenstein. The process of mourning in response to loss may be elicited not only by nostalgia or homesickness for a particular place or person but also by an individual’s severance – whether voluntary or involuntary – from a larger cultural community.
188
It is well documented that most Japanese soldiers entered the Fifteen Year War with “a great deal of confidence in the capabilities of the army, its officers and themselves.” 189 They were trained to believe that their spiritual strength would overcome all obstacles. 190 It is also true to say that “this emotional and spiritual aura dissipated and 187
Tamura 80 故郷のロマンスを語らう友も 話しあきる Sy Kahn experiences a similar sentiment when he writes: “As months became years, as our casualties increased and familiar faces disappeared, even letters from family and friends became a chorus of diminished voices, speaking to us from another world.” Kahn, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. xxi. 188
Rubenstein, Roberta, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction (New York: Palgrave, 2001). 37‐8. 189
Gilmore, You Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 73. 190
Ibid. 221
sometimes vanished altogether when the material and practical hardships of the war became too great.” 191 The harshness of the New Guinean environment and the physical isolation and sensory deprivation which it inflicted potentially challenged his sense of country and the kokutai ideology which defined it. Tamura could not have found himself in a place more remote from his previous lived experiences. For Tamura If one likes the unusual, there are many unusual things to see in this area. At the same time, one could also say there is not much to see here.
192
New Guinea offered nothing to which Tamura could relate. We will examine in Chapter Four how, determined to survive in this alien landscape, he nevertheless re‐ordered his environment to re‐create both a familiar landscape and an emotional connection with a more satisfying past. 191
Ibid. 192
Tamura 66 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 珍しいと言えば皆珍しく 又ないと言えば何もない 222
Chapter Four Creating an Idealized World Introduction This chapter will examine the strategies employed by Tamura to deal with the challenging conditions outlined in Chapter Three. Tamura is forcibly installed in an unfamiliar, demoralising and debilitating landscape where the physical conditions, such as constant rain and humidity, are completely outside his control. He is powerless to command mail to arrive, to compensate for the lack of food or to stave off susceptibility to illness. Daily exposure to this alien environment threatens a fracturing of Tamura’s self that has been constructed from both his previous personal experience and also from the discursive environment of Imperial Japan in which he has been socialised. So great, in fact, is the sense of rupture from a familiar setting that Tamura suffers a form of culture shock. While he must deal with the usual traumas and difficulties associated with life as a soldier, such as “fatigue [and] unresponsiveness to the immediate environment,” 1 the anxiety which results from the loss “of all familiar signs and symbols of social intercourse” 2 is exacerbated by the physical extremes of his tropical surrounds. In order to remain grounded and functioning at a personal, physical and psychological level, Tamura must 1
2
Ritivoi, Andreea Deciu, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 4.
Kim Young Yun, "Intercultural Adaptation," in Handbook of International and Intercultural Communication, ed. Molefi Kete Asantre and William B Gudykunst (London: Sage, 1989). 276. 223
find strategies to neutralize the potentially devastating impact of the alien New Guinea environment. The trauma of displacement experienced by Tamura is expressed in the words of Amy Kaminsky who wrote Whether forced or voluntary, exile is primarily from, and not to, a place. It thus carries something of the place departed and of the historical circumstances of that place at the moment of departure, making the exiled person no longer 3
present in the place departed, but not a part of the new place either. We see that for Tamura, as it is for those in exile, “nostalgia for one’s homeland is virtually inevitable.” 4 Written in the alien setting of the tropics, Tamura’s diary expresses nostalgia for Japan, an entity which Tamura constructs as a “vanished Eden or Paradise.” 5 This process of recollection provides Tamura with a shift “from the spatial to the temporal dimension,” 6 for, in the words of Andrea Ritivoi, 3
Kaminsky, Amy, Reading the Body Politic: Feminist Criticism and Latin American Women Writers (Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis Press, 1993). 30. 4
Rubenstein, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 65. 5
Ibid. 118. 6
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 20. 224
It becomes less important that the nostalgic suffers from being separated from [his] familiar environment, and much more significant that [he] suffers from 7
being cut off from [his] past. Thus, the Japan of the diary becomes “less an actual place than a site located in memory and fantasy, a psychic space invested with nostalgia for an idealized notion of wholeness.” 8 For Tamura, memories of home and a more comforting past, therefore, provide a nurturing “substitute for real experience.” 9 There are two specific means employed by Tamura to create an idealized world that will provide release from his current psychological landscape of deprivation. The lack of communication from friends and loved ones at home was a major source of disappointment for Tamura. The first strategy to ease this absence of contact is the reproduction in the diary of letters to family and friends, and the creation of whimsical imaginary acquaintances from magazines. The second strategy involves the recreation of the journey from home to the front and events that occur during these journeys. Both these strategies assist Tamura to offset the damaging effects of the physical landscape. This enables the diarist to fulfil the daily requirements of his role as a Japanese Imperial Army soldier. In this way, Tamura attempts to “revive the ‘threads’ that link [him][…] to 7
Ibid. 8
Rubenstein, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 127 9
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 20 225
others across time and space.” 10 Thus, the diary becomes a “compensatory and even liberating” 11 tool, by means of which Tamura can reconcile the contradictions that exist between his physical life in New Guinea and the ideology which dominates his psyche. Letters as Solace With both the demolition by Allied forces of a significant complement of Japanese naval and merchant vessels by early 1943 and the shortage of labour in the cities for incidental activities such as mail sorting, the prospect of contact with family and friends by means of correspondence sent by ship to the Southern battlefields became virtually non‐existent for Tamura and his soldier confreres. Nevertheless, Tamura did not completely give up on communication from the outside world. His desire to remain connected to the familiar motivates him to manufacture his own emotional links by copying into his diary letters and magazine articles, both of which provide a surrogate form of homeland contact. We have seen in Chapter One that Tamura makes no record of correspondence received from family members. This almost certainly indicates that, in spite of the likelihood of mail being sent, no such mail arrived. 10
Rubenstein, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 109 11
Ibid. 6 226
Tamura does, however, record in his diary letters that he wrote to his brother and also to a friend. The contents of these letters, which may or may not have been mailed home, reveal a self‐censoring desire on Tamura’s part to convey a highly positive image of his tropical surrounds. 12 Unlike other sections of the diary, where Tamura freely expresses his deeper emotions of angst and despair, these letters reveal nothing of the abject wretchedness of the writer’s circumstances to the prospective reader. The first letter, recorded early in the diary, is addressed to Sadanobu. How are you? Are you working hard? I wonder if you are shivering in the cold. If you are, why don’t you come over this way? You would not want to stay long because it’s hot. How have you been back home? I am well. I swam in the sea on Empire Day. I would like to send you lots of coconuts through my dreams. So many that you could eat as much as you want and still not finish. I wonder if they will arrive home safely. You will be able to keep them in a basket by your bedside. I will write to you about interesting things later. To my dear younger brother From your older brother. 13 12
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 96. Tsurumi states that “soldiers were not allowed to keep anything secret. Their conversations were overheard, their diaries, memos, and any other writing scrutinized, and their letters, both incoming and outgoing, strictly censored.” 13
Tamura 15 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 一信 二月十二日 どうだ元気で奮闘中か 寒いと 227
This letter, revealing in its simplicity and written with the relatively optimistic tone of Tamura’s early days in New Guinea, seems on the surface to be an example of the mere chronicling of events and thoughts. It gives Sadanobu no realistic description of Tamura’s surroundings other than mention of the sea and coconuts. The latter, as we noted in Chapter One, were symbols in the Japanese popular imagination of a Southern paradise, a paradise that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the actual environment experienced by Tamura. Assuming that the letter is a direct copy of material that Tamura at least intended to mail to his family, the censorship regulations that operated at the time account to some extent for the light‐hearted voice of the writer. 14 Tamura was, by his 震えているのと違うか もしそうだったらこちらに来給え 一度で暑くて逃げ出すから あれから内地もお変わりありませんか 兄も元気です 紀元節には海水浴でした 夢で椰子の実をたくさん送って 上げましょうどんなに食べても余る程 無事届くかどうかね 枕元にかごでも置いて寝るように またその内珍しい事を知らせましょう 兄より 弟へ 14
Other soldiers became enraged at the censorship of their personal letters to family members. See Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 189, 190, 228. 228
brother’s account, a doting elder sibling and it is conceivable that he embellishes this letter to his younger brother in order to conceal the dire details of his actual circumstances. 15 As Kazuko Tsurumi points out, soldiers were, in fact, “forbidden to disclose their whereabouts to their families or to make any unfavourable comments on the war or the war situation.” 16 In discussing letters sent to families from soldiers at the front, Sekizawa Mayumi notes that one of the notable features of these materials was that “they did not discuss the actual situation at the battlefront but rather kept referring to the soldiers’ homes.” 17 Tamura’s letter varies a little from this observation in its embellishment of his surroundings, replacing reference to the hard labour demanded of troops in New Guinea with the image of young men splashing in the turquoise seas of Wewak. Nevertheless, the pull of this “soldier’s home” is also evident in the mention of coconuts being received by the brother and stored in a “basket by your bedside.” 15
Kano Masanao, "The Significance of Military Mail for the Soldier." 60. Kano notes that soldiers were particularly mindful of ensuring that family members were spared the horrors of the battlefront. 16
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 97 “A sergeant lecturing to new recruits told them not to write, for instance, ‘the march is hard’, ‘we are tired of eating onions’, or, ‘it is very cold’.” 17
Sekizawa Mayumi, "Records and Memories of the Life and Death of the Farmer‐soldiers," in Kokuritsu Rekishi Minzoku Hakubutsukan Kenkyū Hōkoku. 283. 229
What is of particular interest here is the fact that Tamura took the time and the space to record the letter in his diary at all. Clearly, Tamura needs to retain some connection with the world outside of his alien environment and writing this letter in his diary assists in filling the void created by no news from home. His pressing desire in this respect is expressed as follows It’s the 5th of April, three months since I enlisted, but not one piece of news has arrived. I want the fragrance of home. Why can’t they even 18
send a message just saying they are well? If Sekizawa notes the reference to home in soldiers’ letters from the front, Kano Masanao takes this one step further when he asserts that “all of the soldiers’ correspondences were filled with a sense of longing for home.” 19 Japanese Imperial Army troops were not the only military personnel to experience this longing. In the diary extract above, Tamura equates receiving news from home with the familiar aromas of his native soil. American diarist, Sy Kahn, expresses a similar response. 18
Tamura 24 入隊三ヶ月今一度の 便りも着かざるなり 故郷の香りがほしい 無事の外かく事なき 19
Kano Masanao, "The Significance of Military Mail for the Soldier." 60. 230
Yesterday I received a package from home, containing four civilian shirts and socks. They made a familiar sight, and they smelled of cedar from lying in my bureau for so long. It was the most beautiful perfume I ever hope to smell, it 20
was the smell of home. In the case of Kahn, the smell of home was an actual reality embodied in goods received. Tamura, however, can only re‐create that aroma by drawing on his powers of imagination. Other letters intended for recipients in Japan, several of which are addressed to a friend named Eiji, display a sense of shared intimacy overlayed with hardship. Although the first begins with news of the tropics, this piece, too, soon turns to musings of home Dear Eiji How are you? I think we are in the rainy season here and experiencing continuous rain day after day. We have sown some canola seeds in front of our tents because we were craving fresh vegetables. The stems shot up, and there are two little leaves on the top. We cannot grow Japanese vegetables in this area. Many soldiers were very disappointed. It must be spring now in Japan. I can imagine the fresh green grass in the countryside, bright with the flowers of Chinese milk vetch and canola. 20
Kahn, Between Tedium and Terror: A Soldier's War Diary. 183. 231
We had intended to train ourselves by climbing mountains. You must be climbing without me now, as I was called up for military service. 21 I remember you had cause for celebration in February. What is your beautiful wife’s name? I am sorry I could not send my best wishes in time. After we landed here, I have been extremely busy every day. That was why I did not have time to write to you. Please send my best regards to everybody. If one likes the unusual, there are many unusual things to see in this area. At the same time, one could say there is not much to see here. However, you would enjoy it here as you like climbing. I wish good health and happiness for you and your wife. Regards 21
Tamura 65 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 栄治さん其の後元気ですか この頃此方は雨期であるのか 毎日じとじとと降雨です 天幕張りの宿舎の前に皆で 野菜ほしさに播いた菜種が 糸の様に細く伸びて 一番上に葉の小さいのが二枚程 出て来ました 当地では内地の野菜は駄目ですね 兵隊さん一度に落胆してしまいました 内地は今春盛りですね 青々とした田園にれんげも菜種も 花盛りでしょう 今年の春は山に遊び乍ら 鍛錬に行こうと話しつつ 遂に応召から実現出来ず 君一人で山登りしている事であろうと 想像しています 232
To my friend Eiji From Yoshikazu. 22 In this letter Tamura vividly contrasts his alien environment ‐ which fails to support the familiar canola crop so pervasive at home ‐ with the lush, fertile, nourishing environment of Japan. This contrast is also an important aspect of Tamura’s nostalgia. In order to make sense of his current environment, Tamura must find the point of difference between his present locale and the more familiar surrounds of home. With respect to this process, Ritivoi points out that “comparisons are basic adjustment strategies, […] each element of the present is projected against the background of the past before it can acquire meaning.” 23 However, Tamura still remains, at least in his 22
Tamura 66 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 美しい新嫁さんの名は何と 申しますか お祝いも申し上げず 悪しからず 当地に上陸以来非常に多忙で 遂お便りを上げ得ず 皆様によろしく 珍しいと言えば皆珍しく 又ないと言えば何もない現地 山の好きな君なら大変喜ぶ だろうと思います 益々元気で仲良くお暮らしの 程お祈り申します 草々 栄治様 義一 拝 23
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 137. 233
correspondence to others, committed to glossing over the difficulties associated with living in New Guinea. In addition, he alludes to his deep desire for the food and comforts of home, assuaging his own feelings of despondency by remembering and imagining himself back in a shared and familiar environment. Again, nostalgia plays a key role since, as Nosco argues, “when one is dissatisfied with one’s immediate situation, it can be a comforting exercise to imagine and construct a more pleasing idealized environment.” 24 Recollections of walking in the mountains comfort Tamura, even more so when he can draw a friend into the situation. In this unknowably alien environment, the surroundings are so “unusual” that it is almost as if there is “not much to see at all.” Nevertheless, given Tamura’s affinity with mountains, it is perhaps to be expected that comparing the New Guinea mountains favourably with the familiar sights of home assists in making the present circumstance bearable. We have seen that Tamura’s home environment was surrounded by mountains. While to the south west Mt Fuji was visible from the Tamura farm on a clear day, closer to home were Mt Tsukuba and Nikkō’s Renzan Omote ranges. Legend has it that Mt Tsukuba’s peaks, Mt Nyotai and Mt Nantai, 24
Nosco, Peter, Remembering Paradise: Nativism and Nostalgia in Eighteenth‐century Japan (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1990). 4. 234
played host to a deity refused lodging by Mt Fuji. As a sign of gratitude, the deity granted the mountain beautiful vegetation which changes with the seasons. Certainly, in the letter cited above, reference to mountains consoles Tamura and helps him cope. The peaks visible from his home in Japan were undoubtedly reikan tsuyoi (strongly inspirational) for Tamura. We will further explore in Chapter Five how Tamura’s diary reveals a strong affection and admiration for mountains as familiar features of the physical landscape. A second letter to Eiji leaves the poignant impression that Tamura’s relationship with the addressee is, in fact, quite limited. Nevertheless, in this correspondence, too, the writer creates a sense of familiarity through reference to a shared love of mountains. He writes Dear Eiji It’s been such a long while I suspect you have probably forgotten me by now. I got called up. Please accept my apologies. How are you all? I hope you are well. Is your child going to school? I’ve even forgotten how old he is. This place at the very South is really a backwoods. Only a few natives live here, otherwise there’s no‐one. Coconuts and bananas are unexpectedly scarce. The only specialty of this Southern land is just mountains and it’s a life that hasn’t anything particularly usual or unusual about it. Luckily we are carrying on undaunted. 235
Greetings to all Yoshikazu 25 Although he has been absent less than a year, the impression from the letter is that Tamura has spent an incredibly long time in the South. His strong sense of dislocation makes him nostalgic for “a condition from which one is removed by the passages of time as well as by space.” 26 Above all, a deep sense of loss and longing pervade the letter. 25
Tamura 99 しばらくになりますね 今頃は僕の事を忘れている だろうと思う位です あれからすぐ再び應召して ずっと不通ですね 悪しからず 其の後如何ですか みんな元気で居る事でしょうね お子さんは学校に行きますか 年も忘れてしまいます 現地は南国の果にて本当の藩地です 住む人も稀で極少数の土人より 外居ません 椰子もバナナも案外に少なく南国の 名物は山とジャングル位です 珍しいと言えば珍しく ないと言えば 何一つない生活です 幸に元気で奮斗して居りますれば 皆様によろしく 栄治様 芳一 Of note is the fact that Tamura uses two different character combinations for his name in each letter to this friend. In the first letter he signs his name 義一, and in the second, 芳一, both of which can be read as Yoshikazu. 26
Nosco, Remembering Paradise: Nativism and Nostalgia in Eighteenth‐century Japan. 3‐4. 236
Eiji, it would appear, has gone on to live a fulfilled life. The previous letter hinted at the birth of a child, and this letter enquires into the well being of an older child. Thirty pages separate the two letters in the diary and in the intervening time Tamura’s mood has changed. He is more willing now to express his growing disdain for the “backwoods” to which he has been despatched while struggling to find a connection to the familiar which will keep his dwindling friendship with Eiji alive. Tamura worries that his friend has possibly forgotten him, not surprisingly, given what appears to the tenuous nature of their relationship. It is surely not the deep friendship that withstands separation. The one thing that keeps them tied in some sort of rapport is the grandeur of the mountains, a physical tie to the homeland and the glory of Imperial Japan. The shared love of mountains permits a memory of friendship in a document in which there is a desolate absence of close and consoling human relations. In addition to the limited reference to male friends or family in Tamura’s diary from the New Guinea campaign, there is little evidence of meaningful relationships with women. Tamura’s mother had already passed away by the time of his departure for New Guinea, and there are few references either to her or to other women from the 237
family. 27 However, while there is no mention of any sustained romantic relationship with a young woman, Tamura does write of the sister of a friend. The diary often indicates how the lack of contact with women ‐ on the one hand with a mother, and on the other the intimacy of a consoling partnership ‐ heightens Tamura’s loneliness in the isolation of New Guinea. Tamura compensates for this lack of real life feminine intimacy by creating fictitious relationships for himself. There is, for example, a letter signed as from the “jinchū kurabu” (the club at the front). The contents of this text are what a soldier at the front might have written to a young woman at home. While it is unclear whether this is actually composed by Tamura or copied from another source, such as a magazine, the fact that the letter is recorded indicates the significance of the contents for the writer. Who would guess I harbour such a feeling towards you in this faraway land in the South Seas. It’s been over a year since we met. You were just a younger sister of my friend but I don’t know why I cannot forget about you. I did not have a chance to write to you and I never sent you a letter expressing my feelings, as I thought it would not be appropriate. 27
Tamura’s mother does not feature in his diary except for one entry where he recalls her sending him off to China. There is no mention of her when Tamura records his final departure from Tochigi. Tamura notes the anniversary of her death as 6 February. See http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b7
3000e4618?OpenDocument 238
My heart hurts when I am alone and I think about home. 28 Tamura reveals here that thoughts of home evoke much more than just the familiar aspects of family, buildings and scenery. Agonisingly, home also means that which has not yet even been attained. Home is the prospect of a relationship and a future. There is a deep sensuality in this letter, coupled with a longing for something that is outside of the realms of possibility for the writer. Not only has he been unable to make a firm attachment to this woman, the letter reveals that Tamura is painfully aware that this love will remain unrequited. Alone in this desolate site, he yearns for the affection of someone whom he doesn’t really even know. I know that it is impossible to seek your heart, but I still cannot rid myself of this feeling. You could well be a married woman by now. I am envious of your husband. Heaven does not know the feeling of the man who wishes for your happiness. 29 28
Tamura 26 (translated by Keiko Tamura) はるか南海の果でこんな思慕を寄せたとて誰が本当にするだろう 知り合ってから一ヶ年何の事もなく 友の妹として君を知っただけなのに 何故かしら忘られぬ君の面影だ 便りする機会もなく余りに厚かましい 心と思えば遂一度の信も せざるなり 唯獨り胸を痛めて 故郷を偲ぶ 29
Tamura 26 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 239
Time for everyone at home has raced on, allowing them happiness in marriage and the birth of children ‐ in short, life’s fulfilment. Tamura, however, is both alone and lonely, overcome by pain and sorrow at his solitary state. His “heart hurts” when he thinks about those he has left behind and, more pressingly, about his inability to fulfil his dreams of love and partnership. Here in the wretched hopelessness of the New Guinea landscape his only emotion is envy for the fortunate one who will take this woman as his wife. Ritivoi argues that “we are alone from the very beginning of our lives, not after having been with others.” 30 Tamura’s aloneness is perhaps precisely because there have been no “others.” It is thus the loss of potential relationships which is as much mourned as the lack of a specific relationship itself. This isolation of both the physical 求むる事の無理と知りつつ 何故あきらめられぬ想いあり 元気で今頃人妻として嫁として いるだろう。 思えば羨ましい 君の夫だ 唯君の幸福を祈る男の 意を天は知らず 陣中倶楽部より 30
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 91. Italics in the original. 240
body and the emotional self can trigger a decline into self pity and cause Tamura to be momentarily distracted from a continued commitment to the kokutai. Letters as Comfort Letters to home are merely one type of text that Tamura records in his diary in order to motivate himself to remain committed to the role of standard bearer of the Imperial cause. He also records material received either directly or through publications circulated among troops by the authorities. Tamura recorded several imon or comfort letters. This style of letter was sometimes sent to soldiers by families or women’s groups as part of the imonbukuro (comfort bag) discussed in Chapter Three. The National Defence Women’s Association also encouraged young girls to send these “letters of encouragement” to random soldiers at the front. 31 In addition to being sent to troops, some imon letters were published in magazines. 32 Given the lack of mail services to New Guinea during his time there, it is likely that at least some of the letters recorded by Tamura were taken from such a source. 31
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 19‐20. 32
Earhart, David C, Certain Victory. 161. We will note in Chapter Seven that Tamura makes reference to being able to read magazines during air raid attacks. 241
The very first imon‐type letter appears in the diary directly following a cry of loneliness and discontent. It is a letter of gratitude from those at home. The contents reveal the complete ignorance on the part of the sender of the hardships being experienced by soldiers at the Southern front. All thanks to you soldiers. In a photo I saw of you recently, you were tanned by the sun of the hot South land, completely black like a native. Only your 33
eyes were like a doll’s. One can only imagine Tamura’s thought processes upon reading this letter. It is difficult, furthermore, to understand how the authorities believed that such a letter could provide “comfort” or could be read, to use Haven’s term, as “a letter of encouragement.” 34 While the unknown author at least recognised that the soldiers are in an environment which has seen them become totally darkened by the sun, the 33
Tamura 7 兵隊さん有難う存じます 熱い南国の太陽焼けに この間の寫真が土人の様に 真黒 目ばかり人形の 様でした 34
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 19‐20. 242
comparison of their eyes to the innocence of “those of a doll” is far removed from the reality of weariness and lack of vitality that Tamura reports elsewhere in his diary. 35 Copying letters from magazines is one of a number of forms of substitution for Tamura who sees the intimacy of the family replaced by the army and then by fictitious relationships with complete strangers. Comments on the diary page immediately preceding this copied letter, however, allow some insight into its ability to comfort Tamura. Here the writer voices his deep sense of despondency at having never received a letter since departing Japan and laments the hardship of military life. He writes 36
The Empress’ birthday has passed and canola flowers should be flowering at home. I have not received any letters since I left home and that makes me feel very sad. Only those who have experienced military life filled with duties 37
and regulations could understand how I feel. 35
Artist Nakahara Junichi’s images of Japanese women with distinctive eyes comes to mind. Nakahara was responsible for numerous magazine covers of Shōjo no Tomo during the period. For an excellent record of magazine covers see Endō Hiroko, ed., Shōjo no Tomo: sōkan 100‐shūnen kinengō Meiji Taishō Shōwa besutō serekushon (Tokyo: Jitsugyō no Nihonsha, 2009). 36
6th March. 37
Tamura 6 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 地球節も過ぎて内地だと 菜種の花も咲く頃なり 一別以来唯一度の便りもなく 無情をさげみ居る事と思う 243
Again we see Tamura reconciling his current time frame with something that is evocative of both a familiar home and a more pleasant past. His re‐coding of time evokes once more for the diary writer the flowering of the ubiquitous canola blossoms during the Japanese spring, a time of joy, hope and renewal. However, since it is impossible to erase the realities of his present circumstances, his words soon once more lament the absence of mail from home. Theodore Zwinger, the 18th Century Swiss doctor who made significant contributions to travel literature, argued that familiar memories could cause exhilaration, but that this exhilaration was quickly followed by “deadly nostalgia.” 38 Although the memory of canola flowers soothes Tamura, the homesickness evoked by their image causes deep pain at the lack of contact with the writer’s beloved home. Tamura continues the entry by recording his deep dissatisfaction with his current life. He makes it clear that the strongest bond he shares with his confreres is an understanding of just how miserable life is. Without the juice of the coconuts found in this Southern land, there may be nothing worthwhile in his current existence. 軍隊生活の多忙又規則 知る人のみの味わう感境なり 38
As cited in Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 19. Zwinger referred here specifically to memories of familiar songs. 244
The one and only pleasure I have is to drink coconut milk. I believe this is truly the high point of living in the tropics. I have not had a chance to write to my family. We are living in tents, and the days pass meaninglessly in hard 39
labour. Recording the imon letter discussed above on the page following this bitterly downhearted entry provides Tamura with some release from his anxiety and some amelioration of the “hard labour” he must currently endure. At the very least, the imon letter expresses Imperial Japan’s gratitude for the efforts made by the soldiers in the Southern campaign. Furthermore, the image of the sweet tasting coconut milk stands as a metaphor for sustenance and a symbol of an exotic and paradisiacal clime. The fruit of this tree can sustain the body’s need for food and drink, while the tree itself can provide the physical need for shelter. Its appearance also conjures up a more romantic, tropical paradise where life is slow and convivial. Although Tamura knows that the reality is quite different, there is some comfort to him 39
Tamura 6 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 唯一の楽しみは椰子の汁を 呑む事 のどの乾きしときぎっとのむ この味は誠に南国の特典 だと信じております 一報を出来る日は無く唯 いたずらに使役に送る 野幕生活 245
in these palm tree and coconut images which permit him to share with the people at home and also with the writer of the imon letter an imagined familiarity with this land in the South to which he has been despatched for the glory of the Empire. On another occasion, Tamura records a letter, under the title “A Comfort Letter from a Magazine,” that he appears to have written in reply to a young woman who has penned an imon letter published in a magazine. 40 You have come all the way to this far land in the South Seas to encourage me. I must write you news about Arawashie. I look up at the clearing sky and take up my pen, my eyes brimming with gratitude. I yearn with all my heart for your beloved appearance here. You, whom I see only in a magazine, look so elegant and gentle. I am overwhelmed by my feelings for you, but you will 41
never know about them. You pray for me and send me off. 40
Earhart, Certain Victory. 147‐181. This material has an insightful section on the images of women as portrayed to soldiers. 41
Tamura 61 誌上慰問より 四月十二日 こんな南海の果迄はるばる 慰問に来て呉れた君 あらわし江の便りをかかんと 雨上がりの空を見てペンを取り 感謝にむせぶその瞳 こんな地迄わざわざ 本当に懐かしい君の出現に 我心より慕しき 誌上でみる君は又実の 様にうるはしくやさし 246
Since the adoration expressed here by the writer can never be reciprocated, Tamura must construct the fantasy that this woman has prayed for him particularly and, even if only in spirit, has come to send him off. The entry ends with a short poem penned by Tamura and appended to the letter copied into the diary. Even though I don’t know your name, In my heart I have made you my friend. 42
I will never forget the fragrance of the flower. The sentiment expressed here is excruciatingly raw. In spite of his lack of sustaining relationships, his inability to make contact with family and friends, and his lack of an intimate and consoling relationship, we see Tamura’s ability to escape into fantasy to allay the painful emotions which engulf him. The poem is made all the more subtly intimate and erotic by the use of the flower and its aroma as a metaphor for the woman. This, like much of Tamura’s refiguring and refashioning of the alien into the familiar that 思い乱るれど思いとどかじ 君が背に幸を祈りて 我を去らす 42
Tamura 61 君の名は知らず 心の友となし 忘れじ花の香り 247
appears in the diary, is a substitute ‐ in this case a substitute for love. 43 The only form of intimacy that Tamura will experience is the love of a woman through a letter in a magazine. Is this “unrequited love” a trope for his relationship to the kokutai which, however much he endures, does not seem to show Tamura any care? Other similar entries in the diary sustain this discourse of unrequited love. The poem below is written by a woman to a soldier in the faraway South. Autumn Visit The brilliant stars shining in the Southern sky, Our beloved Southern cross, high above the land where you are, A land blessed with abundant natural beauty, The horizon green as far as the sea shore. Today, with palm trees swaying, Early evening moon, with waves crashing, My thoughts do not reach you. I pray for your safety. But who knows the fortunes of war? To the lonely beach, Even to the very ends of the island where you live, 43
Soldiers were often supplied with comfort dolls as a substitute for intimacy. For an informative account of this practice see Schattschneider, Ellen, "The Bloodstained Doll: Violence and the Gift in Wartime Japan," Journal of Japanese Studies 31:2 (2005). 248
Across the endless ocean, to the South land 44
I would want to fly, if I were a seagull. This verse is slightly more nuanced than other imon letters that appear in Tamura’s diary. The writer initially confirms the popular image of the tropics as a place of “abundant natural beauty” and green horizons. However, the insecurity of life in a war‐zone is acknowledged by the reference to the unpredictable “fortunes of war.” The final stanza, evoking the image of a single figure on a “lonely beach,” resonates with a number of Tamura’s own verses expressing the sense of isolation he experiences in the South. While much of the diary borders on despair, there are occasions when Tamura’s mood is more positive. Although, as we have seen, there is no specific 44
Tamura 106 秋訪 南の空にきらきらと輝く星は 懐かしき十字の光燦然として 君住む国は天然の恵豊かに 海辺まで緑に包む地平線 椰子の梢の揺るる今日 波音あらき月の宵 想いとどかじ君の背に 祈る武運を誰が知る 独り淋しい砂浜に 君住む島の果てまでも つづく海原かもめなら とんで行きたい南国へ 249
reference to romantic relationships, there is mention of a woman companion who appears to Tamura in a dream. The memory of waning springtime twilight In a field of flowers, The two of us talking Appears in my dream 45
Far away on the battlefield. Yet again, memory draws Tamura into the consoling embrace of home with reference to the seasonal change of spring and the accompanying field of flowers. Media Letters are not the only texts recorded by Tamura as a strategy to self‐
motivate. He also turns to shared messages dissemianted by the media, particularly in the form of popular culture, to assuage his pain and to moderate, or perhaps to even 45
Tamura 136 行く行く春の名残なる 花咲く野辺の夕まぐれ 二人で語った想い出を 遠い戦地で夢にみる 250
enhance, his own deep longing. On one occasion, Tamura records a popular song by Saijō Yaso (1892 – 1970), 46 entitled “Who Does not Long for Their Homeland.” 47 The sun sets on the fields of flowers Shoulder to shoulder, We sing songs on the road home. Of those beloved mountains of our childhood These valleys of home. Who does not long for their homeland. A rainy evening in the capital My breast also damp with tears. Whose voice is that calling from afar? It’s those mountains of my childhood, These valleys of home. 48
Who does not long for their homeland. 46
Saijō Yaso was a poet (including children’s poet) and professor of French Literature at Waseda University. Atkins, E Taylor, Blue Nippon: Authenticating Jazz in Japan (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001). 66. Saijō lived in France for two years (1924‐26) and is said to have been influenced by English and French symbolists. Frederic, Louis, ed., Japan Encyclopedia (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2002). 807. 47
Saijō Yaso also wrote “Tokyo March” as well as many patriotic songs. Silverberg, Miriam, Erotic Grotesque Nonsense: The Mass Culture of Japanese Modern Times (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006). 167. In 1938 Saijō wrote “Nirin no hana” (Two Cherry Blossoms), which was later modified by a naval cadet, Jōsa Yutaka, to become the famous “Dōki no sakura” (Cherry Blossoms of the Same Class). Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 140. 48
Tamura 25 This song will be further analyzed in Chapter 5. 251
This song, a testimony to the writer’s homesickness, is recorded in the diary directly after the letter addressed to Tamura’s brother that is discussed above. The lyrics feature a range of references to the kokutai ideology and the association between this system of thought and the physical landscape of Japan. 49 The home that soldiers should miss is the unique nature of Japan, resplendent with mountains, valleys and fields of flowers. The only human agents in this vision of sublime Japan are the soldiers themselves, standard bearers of the Imperial cause, walking shoulder to shoulder in their shared 誰か故郷を想はざる 花摘む野辺に日は落ちて 皆でかたを組みながら 唄を歌った帰り道 やま
幼なじみのあの山 たに
この谷 誰か故郷を思はざる 都に雨の降る宵は 涙に胸もしめり勝ち 遠く呼ぶのは誰の聲 幼なじみのあの山 この谷 誰か故郷を思はざる 49
Saijō was “credited with introducing folk elements into Japanese popular song.” Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 294. 252
camaraderie. 50 The longing that permeates the song expresses Tamura’s own desire to remain connected to a familiar past and place. Rather than causing Tamura to despair, two contrasting aspects of this song nurture Tamura emotionally in New Guinea. The first is the sense of the nostalgic familiar. Peter Nosco argues that nostalgia “is an emotion like anger or joy [and that], like these other emotions, it can be an altogether natural response to circumstances.” 51 The words of the song are soothing for Tamura. His childhood home was very reminiscent of the landscape conveyed in the lyrics of the song. Secondly, and possibly the reason the song was produced in the first place, the words expressed a sense of belonging. 52 The sense ‐ fictitious though it may be ‐ that others share his experience helps Tamura to survive in his current landscape. Indeed, the actual strategy of writing down a song that takes him home mentally and emotionally enables a shift from alien to familiar surrounds. The nostalgia here is like that identified by Theodore Zwinger who noted as early as the 18th Century that there was a “cheerful state of mind when soldiers 50
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Rice as Self. 123. Ohnuki‐Tierney notes that nature in Japan has been transformed so that “all traces of human agents […] have been removed […] rice paddies […] without famers […] represent agriculture without manure or sweat, which, in turn, represent an idealized past.” 51
Nosco, Remembering Paradise: Nativism and Nostalgia in Eighteenth‐century Japan. 4. 52
Druckman, "Nationalism, Patriotism, and Group Loyalty." 43‐68. 63. This is reflective of Druckman’s goal and ego involvement as discussed in Chapter Two. 253
listened to familiar tunes. Recognizing songs from back home, they would be prompted by an associative mechanism of memory to reminisce about the friends and family they left behind.” 53 While the “we” of the Saijō Yaso lyrics are the troops, Tamura also records the words of a song sung by Kouta Katsutarō (1904‐1974) 54 that expresses the sentiments of the citizenry – in this case the ryōsai, or good wife ‐ of Imperial Japan. So you leave tomorrow? It is hard to let you go On this noble journey, Brave Yamato man. Bathed in the morning sun, you leave I long to send you off with reverence. Passionately, You take up the reins of your horse The pure morning breeze on your breast. Clouds gathering on the bright mountain 55
Send you off on the mountain road. 53
As cited in Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 19. 54
Kouta Katsutarō was originally a geisha who became a recording artist. Osada Gyōji, Nihon Gunka Zenshū (Tokyo: Ongaku no Tomosha, 1976). 338. 55
Tamura 27 明日はお発ちか 254
This popular song, released in 1942, expresses the emotions of the housewife – or perhaps even mother ‐ whose husband – or child ‐ departs for the war. Osada Gyōji notes that the purpose of these lyrics was to encourage wives to stay strong and keep the machinery of war operating on the home front. The words replace sorrow with pride at the sight of these strong young warriors of Yamato being sent off to fight for a noble cause. 56 Osada further points out that at a time when voicing what one felt in one’s heart was impossible this song became a big hit owing to the fact that it expressed the suppressed emotions of many in Japan. 57 By recording this material in his diary, Tamura, too, can share in the gratitude that is being offered to soldiers departing for duty, and thereby experience お名残り惜しや 大和男の晴れの旅 朝日をあびて出で立つ 君を拝む心で送りたや 駒の手綱をしみじみとれば 胸に清しい朝の風 お山は晴れて湧きたつ雲よ 君を見送る峠みち 56
Osada Gyōji, Nihon Gunka Zenshū . 338. 57
Ibid. 338 255
once more the pride of a warrior leaving for battle. 58 In his straitened circumstances, it is of little consequence that the lyrics of both songs fall into the realm of propaganda, with highly romanticised references to “fields of flowers” and the “brave yamato man” with the “morning breeze” at his breast. Rather, Tamura is eager to share the feelings of those who have left someone behind, who have someone waiting, even if, for him, the person may be fictitious. 59 It is this sharing of familiar emotions that yet again helps him to remain grounded in a sense of the familiar. Like the notion of returning home, experiencing the warmth of a relationship with a woman is an impossibility. Nevertheless, Tamura continued to be captivated by the prospect of intimacy. Journey through the Past In addition to the creation of fictitious relationships with imaginary or textual friends, Tamura used the invocation of memory as a method of self‐motivation in order to immerse himself in a more favourable past, a Paradise perhaps, a kind of 58
Earhart, Certain Victory. 162. Earhart notes that “one aspect of ‘morale’ was reminding the men on the battlefield of the women waiting for them back home.” 59
A telling poem in Tamura’s diary is: “The way you seek is noble / You women of Yamato, the shining Takarazuka.” Tamura 70. 求め行く道こそたかし大和女の 光に照らす宝塚かな 256
spiritual home. 60 Ironically, Tamura’s re‐creation of the past operates in the same way as the functioning of myths in that it is a way of “linking an idealised past to an alienating present.” 61 In his selective recording of the past, Tamura rarely mentions family life or, indeed, life prior to his first experience of military service. Memories of his pre‐military past may be irrelevant or unhelpful, given an absence of direct connection to Tamura’s contribution to the Imperial project. Instead he draws on memories of activities associated with his military service, particularly memories of the journey to the South. This was an arduous journey by land and sea that took the troops, dressed only in summer uniform, through the bleak winter cold of Korea and North China. Nevertheless, these circumstances were more favourable than conditions in the tropics, or were certainly recorded as such in the diary. Tamura divides these travel memories into those of the homeland journey and also those of the time he spent training in Korea and North China en route to the New Guinea front. 60
Rubenstein, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 8. 61
Standish, Myth and Masculinity in the Japanese Cinema: Towards a Political Reading of the Tragic Hero. 71. 257
Travel in the Homeland In the first section of this chapter we saw that Tamura recorded the lyrics of the stirring popular song entitled “Tomorrow You Leave.” These words remind Tamura of his own departure for the front, and he evocatively recalls the excitement he felt at being sent once more to serve the Emperor. The departure for the front seems all like a dream. My heart was filled with emotion, gratitude and hope. I myself was surprised that this heart enclosed in my breast was able to become as deep as the ocean. The departure from Utsunomiya was 10:05 at night, and I passed my home station by 11. On that silent platform there were only the station master and two or three station 62
hands, no one else. It was sunk in tranquil sleep. With the pathos of a silent platform as the backdrop, Tamura remembers how he took heart and felt a calm composure at embarking on the grand mission of the Imperial 62
Tamura 28 出征 總てが皆夢の様にすぎるこの出征である 感激も感謝も希望も この胸中に包んであたかも大海の 如くなれる心に自驚す 宇都宮を出発したのが夜の十時五分 故郷の驛を通過したのが十一時 ひっそりとしたホームに驛長と 二 三の駅員の居た外何もなく 安らかな眠りに就いていた 258
warrior, even though he realised at the time that this was likely to be his last view of familiar life. Concerning his departure, much more subdued than the departure for China several years before, the train left Utsunomiya late at night, presumably to preclude any celebratory send‐off. Rubenstein refers to the “emotionally powerful imperative” 63 of creating memories rather than merely recalling events as they were. Although Tamura’s diary also confirms the low‐key nature of his departure, he nevertheless seems intent on re‐creating an alternative memory of leaving home that will invigorate and motivate him in his current circumstances. This is in spite of the fact that he is trying to “recover something that never existed in the first place.” 64 Following the July, 1937, outbreak of the second Sino‐Japanese War, opulent farewell ceremonies, known as Red‐Paper ceremonies after the red of the draft notification, became the order of the day. However, Kira Yoshie notes that in July 1941, following special exercises undertaken in North East China by the Kwantung Army, send‐
off parties were prohibited as a measure against espionage. 65 This policy shift impacted negatively on the morale of the people and their attitude towards the war. It also 63
Rubenstein, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 118. 64
Ibid. 65
Kira Yoshie, "Seeing Off and Welcoming Home Soldiers, as Seen from Historical Documents Related to the Draft and Military Matters in the Shōwa Era," in Bulletin of the National Museum of Japanese History ed. Fujii Tadatoshi and Sekizawa Mayumi (Chiba: Kokuritsu Rekishi Minzoku Hakubutsukan, 2003). 305. 259
resulted in a loss of “fighting spirit” 66 among the troops. Although restrictions were accordingly lifted somewhat after December 1941 and the attack on Pearl Harbour, the magnitude of earlier grand send off parties for troops was never repeated. 67 By the time of Tamura’s departure, the country knew that this was no longer a time for pomp and ceremony. Tamura had been in New Guinea for two months when he recorded the entry below. The stark reality of life in the jungle battlefield made the emotions he felt upon departing Japan seem unreal, “like a dream”, almost disconnected to the present. Nevertheless, his recollections also have a practical, everyday quality, recalling specific details such as the stations through which the convoy passed and meals taken en route. Except for a few, everyone is a soldier of long standing. Some people were talking of previous war experience, but most were just sunk in their thoughts. We passed by Shinagawa, then on past Yokohama, and once we got to Numazu, dawn was beginning to break faintly. We took our first breakfast in 68
the train, recovering our energy. 66
Ibid. 305. 67
Ibid. 305. 68
Tamura 29 或る者を除いては已に歴戦の 勇士ばかりだ 前に通りし想いに話題を 賑わして居ると言えど思い思いの うたたね多し 260
This account of his departure is not only a record of Tamura’s emotions, but most critically, it is a fixing in his mind of the familiar images of the homeland from which he must continue to draw inspiration in order that he remain committed to the constructs of the kokutai. In the process of creating memories of emotionally sustaining travel, Mt Fuji has an especially valued role. Following breakfast, the train on which Tamura and his comrades were travelling entered Shizuoka, where the writer recalls orchards of yellow mandarins, the special fruit of the region, on the hills to the left and right. The rising majesty of Mt Fuji viewed from the window of the train strengthened Tamura’s resolve to undertake this journey to the unknown. Gazing to the left, as the sun rose in the distant eastern sky, we saw the sacred peak of Mt Fuji. Half the mountain pure white, towering towards 69
heaven, this gallant figure, the symbol of Yamato. 品川を通り横浜を抜け 沼津にて夜はほのぼのと明け そめたり 車中第一回の 朝食を摂り元気回復 69
Tamura 29 左に眺めつつ更にはるか東天に 日輪の昇る頃 霊峰 富士の姿を見る 山半身を真白く天に聳ゆる 261
Tamura, of course, was familiar with the sight of Mt Fuji from the family home in Tochigi. Nevertheless, that distant view was a pale imitation of the awe‐inspiring majesty of the mountain viewed close‐up in Shizuoka. As Royall Tyler observes, the ancients referred to Fuji as sangoku ichi no yama, the most splendid mountain in the three lands of India, China and Japan. 70 Symbol of the sacred divinity of Imperial Japan, the epitome of the grandeur and purity of the nation state, 71 Mt Fuji is also a symbol of the unique physical characteristics and the sublime nature of Japan. Tamura’s reverent memories of the mountain are associated also with an image of Mt Fuji circulated among the troops during the sea voyage on the hot, cramped troop ship between China and the South. He records looking at the image while resting after a period of prolonged work. For the first time in a long while we took a much needed rest. The new songbook Imperial Shield circulated by the military comforted our hearts as we gazed absorbedly at the picture of Mt Fuji. In the hot ship, no matter how 72
often we looked at it our hearts burned with resolve. この雄姿 大和島根の 表徴なり 70
Tyler, Royall, "A Glimpse of Mt Fuji in Legend and Cult," The Journal of the Association of Teachers of Japanese 16, no. 2 (Nov 1981). 140. 71
Earhart, Certain Victory 38 and 111 for examples of the use of Mt Fuji in media . 72
Tamura 124 久しぶりで心にしみる保養をした 262
This entry comes soon after Tamura has expressed anguish and vexation at the unfairness of his lowly standing in both society and the army. 73 However, since the mountain is a symbol and reminder of the kokutai ideology, the foundation of his existence as a soldier, merely to record his recollections of Mt Fuji assists in restoring his equilibrium. Furthermore, viewing the illustration in the song book of this mountain that is “understood to reach into the realm of transcendency” 74 revives his spirits and returns Tamura to the ordered, familiar structure authorised by the military. Tamura’s reverence for Mt Fuji is evident from his use of haiken suru, the polite form of the verb “to see” and an expression commonly used in reference to this peak. Tamura’s record of his departure from Tochigi resembles a travel journal which, to borrow the words of Paul Theroux, allows him to perform an imaginative 部隊より回覧されし富士を 拝見してあきたらぬ心を慰む 暑い船中でよみさしの御盾 幾度よんでも心沸く 73
Tamura 121 ああ我は何故こんな悲惨なる 運命なりやと嘆く 人と生れて智なき為様々の障害を 切り開き得ず落伍したり 74
Ackermann, Peter, "The Four Seasons One of Japanese Culture's Most Central Concepts," in Japanese Images of Nature: Cultural Perspectives, ed. Pamela Asquith and Arne Kalland, Man and Nature in Asia (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 1997). 47. 263
“heading home.” 75 Although this is a heading home which Tamura by now knows is almost certainly never going to happen, it is an essential strategy to ensure he remains functioning in his current circumstances. Clearly, memories of mountains are generally inspirational and those of Mt Fuji are particularly helpful and curative in this respect, with Tamura digressing and recalling the previous year when he climbed the sacred peak with a friend. I remember the time last July when my workmate and I conquered the mountain. Immeasurable feelings. That mountain road, this valley, rocks 76
upon rocks. The memory of this climb fills me with longing. This longing is for the familiar geographical, social and spiritual aspects of home. These are the elements which have shaped Tamura’s sense of self and to which he must return as safe pillars of identity. The diary continues with further detail of the departure journey through Japan. At about the time when the sea came into view, snow began to flicker on the train window. I believed that Kansai is a warm region so it was a bit of a 75
Theroux, Paul The Great Railway Bazaar (London: Picador, 1975). 78‐79. 76
Tamura 30 去年の七月工友と共にこの山頂を 征服した当時を想いだし 感無量 あの山路 この谷 岩又岩の登山の想い出懐かしく 想い浮かべり 264
surprise. The chill of the white snow under the trees and at the foot of the mountains made us shiver inside the train in spite of ourselves. As we enjoyed the sunny view of the Tōkaidō, the train continued, carrying the emotional soldiers to its destination. We didn’t know how many of us would 77
ever return. Casey Blanton suggests that “there exists in the journey pattern the possibility of a kind of narrative where inner and outer worlds collide.” 78 We have seen that the memory of the familiar natural elements, sighted during the journey to the front, that form a part of the creation and sustenance of the myth of unique Yamato, such as the yellow mandarins of Shizuoka and the majesty of Mt Fuji, assists Tamura to remain committed to the noble path of the Empire. However, the joy associated with these homeland memories is clouded by the fact that these are also memories of a one‐way trajectory 77
Tamura 30 海の見え始める頃ちらちらと 車窓に雪を見る 関西は暖かきと知りしに一寸 意外の感あり 山陰木陰雪白く寒さも そぞろ車中に震えて居る 陽光照りて下る東海道の 風影を楽しみたり 汽車は今思い思いに乱れる 勇士等をのせて目的地へ進む 果たしてこの中幾人還るやも 知らずに 78
Blanton, Casey, Travel Writing: The Self and the World (New York and London: Routledge, 2002). 3. 265
towards likely death. This tension is expressed in the poignancy of the final line of the excerpt above, which sees the narrative shift “from descriptions of people and places to the effects of people and places on the narrator at the time of the journey”. 79 This effect is doubly evident in the record of the final stages of the journey where Tamura continues to note the familiar fragments of the homeland which crowd his mind, including his last fleeting glimpses of life in Japan. In the gorge where remnants of snow were scattered here and there, I saw soldiers training ‐ 1,2 1,2 ‐ and wondered where we were. It was Toyohashi. We saw the golden dolphin of Nagoya on the right and about the time my eyes grew tired of the view outside the train, there was a race track, with small groups of young people on the way home, waving to us. As we neared Shimonoseki, where the pine trees on the beach made it all the more beautiful, we were thrilled at the “banzai” of the women pearl divers and 80
enjoyed the seascape. 79
Ibid. 3. 80
Tamura 31 点々と小雪ののこれる山合に 一、二、訓練 志ある兵を見て 何處ぞと思えば豊橋なりき 名古屋の金の鯱を右にみて 車外の影に目疲れた頃競馬場 ありて三々五々帰り来る 若人より手を振る 下関近くなりて浜の松一層 美を添えたり 266
These iconic images are reproduced with the accuracy of a picture postcard. While much of the account of the journey is idealized, emphasising the unique beauty of the landscape of Japan, Tamura concludes with a telling sentence which, by referring to a deep disappointment, brings him straight back to his present reality. In other words, as suggested by Blanton above, the inner and outer worlds collide. The Tōkaidō journey was not as noteworthy or memorable as my last departure on the Jōetsu Line. The journey from snowy Niigata was more memorable, maybe just due to the different times. Last time, there was a grand send off at every station, but, after all, this time there is not a soul to 81
send us off. This memory of the isolation of the New Guinea departure, which reflects the grim demands of the war effort on civilians in early 1943, brings Tamura to the point of James Olney’s “crisis of attention to the present.” 82 While he clearly finds comfort or perhaps even pleasure in this detailed retrospective account of the lengthy journey through the 海女の万歳もうれしく たの
海の景色を楽しむ 81
Tamura 31 前出征の上越線に比して 東海道は稍おとりたり 心ともならず雪の新潟の方が 懐かしきは時代の差 前は各驛の送り盛大なるに 今回は更に送り人なし 82
Olney, James, ed., Studies in Autobiography (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988). 133. 267
Japanese countryside, this process of consolation is disrupted at various points by an inevitable intrusion of his awareness of the situation at the time of writing. Nevertheless, his memories are largely positive. While there are expressions of loneliness and disappointment at the lack of send‐off celebrations, exhaustion and fear of the future are glossed over in favour of the consoling images conjured up in his mind. Even the lonely departure from Shimonoseki as he leaves Japan for the final time is softened by the memories of women pearl divers and their patriotic cries of “banzai” among the pines on the beach. The entry ends with a verse Sent off by the white seagulls 83
With a memory of their homeland harbour This verse, with its sea birds wheeling overhead above the “homeland harbour,” sees nature, Japan’s nature, come to the rescue to send off the soldiers with a heartening memory of home. We can figuratively regard Tamura’s record of his trip as a michiyuki, the kabuki dance interlude that depicts two travelers with a romantic association or even 83
Tamura 32, 白いかもめに送られ志 祖国の港 想い出に 268
two young lovers on their way to double suicide. 84 Kawatake Toshio points out that the michiyuki is not merely a description of scenery or events and/or people from the past; rather it is a narrative strategy that unfolds, “something that lies before one’s gaze and is part of one’s immediate present”. 85 The Noh concept of michiyuki may be even more appropriate here. Tamura is indeed on a journey towards death as in the kabuki michiyuki, but, as one of his poems declares, he feels he is already a spirit looking back at his life’s journey which has led him to this location of death in New Guinea. 86 The recollections are, in fact, doubly cathartic because of their transcendental element: they tell of a spiritual journey towards a metaphysical goal and the actual telling of this journey indicates that he has already arrived at the spiritual destination. In a sense, he is already a spirit, having overcome the tremendous difficulties of the present in this world. Indeed, the day‐to‐day physical hardships become pinpricks of a time already past. The 84
Kawatake Toshio, Japan on Stage: Japanese Concepts of Beauty as Shown in the Traditional Theatre, trans. P.G. O'Neill (Tokyo: 3A Corporation, 1982). 45. O'Neill, P G, "A "michiyuki" 道 行 Passage from the "Taiheiki" 太 平 記," Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 36, no. 2 (1973). 359. 85
Kawatake Toshio, Japan on Stage: Japanese Concepts of Beauty as Shown in the Traditional Theatre. 45. Often the michiyuki in traditional drama is associated with the road to suicide. Its association with pathos is noted here in context with Tamura’s certain realization that his life was near end. 86
Tamura 81: New Guinea, where the war dead dream of enlistment, My army comrades laugh at my strange dream. 英霊の入営夢むニューギニア 夢はおかしく戦友に笑わる This poem will be further discussed in Chapter Six. 269
reordering and beautification of his memories spare Tamura, to borrow the words of Albert Wendt, the “pain and suffering” of actual contemporary events. 87 We will see below that this strategy of idealisation of memory as a means of managing the ordeal of the present becomes even more persistent in Tamura’s account of his journey through the bleak landscape of Korea and North China. Journey across the Continent Giving an account of his own experiences as a soldier of Imperial Japan in the New Guinea campaign, Ogawa Masatsugu recalled I didn’t really have a future while I was trudging along in those mountains. There was no tomorrow, no next day. All I could think about was falling 88
asleep, or following pleasant memories back into the past. Like Ogawa, Tamura is consoled by revisiting the past. However, in contrast to the memories of his experiences while travelling through Japan, we find that the account of the continental leg of the journey, which saw Tamura’s unit board a troop train to pass through Korea and North East China, has a greater focus on the physical and mental 87
Wendt, Albert. "Novelists, Historians and the Art of Remembering." Paper presented at the Institute of Pacific Studies, University of Auckland 1987. 81. 88
Ogawa Masatsugu, "The Green Desert of New Guinea." in Cook, Haruko Taya and Cook, Theodore ed. Japan at War: An Oral History (London: Phoenix Press, 2000). 274 270
hardships experienced. Nevertheless, even these memories are idealized in that they permit the writer to ascribe a glorious and noble purpose to this trip. Early in his diary Tamura recollects events in Qingdao in China The washing hanging out to dry is frozen white where the sunshine doesn’t reach. Even though it’s the middle of the day, it’s very cold and everyone is trembling in summer uniforms. The senior officers who are pressing everyone to cheer up and persevere, can’t seem to do without their heavy winter uniforms. The mountains are completely bald as far as the eye can see. Driven by the wind, the sea air pierces your skin. The young lads, protectors of tomorrow, are now training enthusiastically for their upcoming 89
expedition. Here, Tamura openly acknowledges the severe cold and harsh landscape of the training ground. Unlike his account of unfavourable conditions in New Guinea, however, these words are tempered by reference to the brave enthusiasm of the “young lads protecting 89
Tamura 8 物乾場に乾してある洗濯物の日の 当たらぬ方は白く凍って居る 日中とは言えど相当に寒い皆夏服で 震えている 元気を出せ張切れと 励ます上官の防寒具がはなせぬ様だ 見渡す山々は丸はげて 吹き寄す 海風は肌を刺す 明日の守り健児は今征途前 元気いっぱい訓練中 271
tomorrow.” There is still the chance at this juncture that the promise of the kokutai will be fulfilled. Here, and throughout his records of the journey, we find that Tamura draws on exhortative military discourse and kokutai derived expressions to make sense of his experiences. While memories of home inevitably console, memories of Korea and China are more fraught. In a later entry, titled “Korea,” Tamura gives a detailed account of scenes glimpsed in Korea. The weather of Korea with its many bald mountains is dry and windless. Children clothed in tatters playing with home‐made skating boards also made me feel like I had come to a foreign country. They had put blades on about 30cm of board, sat on them and pulled themselves forward as if rowing a boat. We were fascinated by their expertise. The swamps there, the rivers here were completely frozen over which brought home to us in the train how 90
immensely cold it was outside. 90
Tamura 33 朝鮮 はげ山多き朝鮮の大気は 乾燥して風もなし ぼろぼろを着た子供達が 自作らしいスケート板で遊んで 居るのも異郷に来た感 一尺か二尺の板に歯をつけ その上にのり腰を下して 船を漕ぐ様にして遊ぶ 中々馴れた動作に興味あり 272
The Korea through which the troop train passed was a colony of Japan. However, to these soldiers it was nonetheless an alien land. For Tamura, the second‐time conscript and continental returnee, there is also a familiarity in the “the rows of poplars, the over‐hanging willows, the housewives hanging the washing up high” that act as a nostalgic reminder of “my previous call up as a new recruit four years ago.” 91 The nature of these recollections of the Asian mainland suggests that Tamura had acclimatized himself to that environment during his past tour of duty. Certainly, the diary account of Korea and the Chinese North‐East bears little similarity to the depiction of the alien and “nothing” world he now inhabits in the tropics. Rather, in these memories of the journey through the continent there is a form of what Ritivoi terms retreatism, that is, “a rejection of [where] one lives at the present, by longing to be someplace else and by ‘intensifying’ the value of that imagined (but conceivably also recollected) someplace else.” 92 其處の沼 ここの川も全く凍りて 車中では計りかねる寒さを 思わせる 91
Tamura 33 ポプラ並木 しだれ柳 たたき洗濯に余念なき主婦 四年前の初年兵の頃を 懐かしく思い浮かべたり 92
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 28. 273
Mid‐way through these reminiscences, Tamura happily notes that he had the comforting experience of tasting miso soup “for the first time in a while” somewhere in Korea. 93 However, although he does spend time during the journey “thinking of his hometown,” it is musings concerning conditions on the continent that are dominant. Under the title “A Train Journey Recalling Home,” Tamura writes Enjoying the scenery of the continent after my conscription, we reached China. I was surprised that everything had changed so much from the China of three years ago. I had crossed Korea, and had travelled around Manchuria and Mukden, but it was the first time I experienced temperatures of 35 degrees below zero. Within merely five minutes outside, I was shocked at how much my eyes hurt. There’s not a thing on the plains of North China, just the Great Plains as far as the eye can see. Maybe because it’s so dry, no snow piles up, just thick ice on the train window. Presently, we left this place and 94
headed South again. 93
Tamura 33 大邱で久しぶりで味噌汁を 食べたり 94
Tamura 38 故郷を偲びて汽車の旅 (this version is taken from the transcription provided by AJRP , the first line of which differs from the version given in Tamura Yoshikazu, Jūgun techō ni kakinokoshita saigo no nikki : nankai no kotō ni chitta Tamura Yoshikazu no shuki (Tochigi, Japan: Tamura Sadanobu, 2004). 38. The original is unclear. 応召後大陸の風影を 楽しみつつこの地に参り 三年前の支那とは總てに 於いて変わるのに驚きました 朝鮮を縦断 満州 奉天と 274
Tamura is shocked at the barren and inhospitable nature of the landscape viewed from the window of the train, landscape that compares unfavourably with the conditions he experienced on his first tour of duty in China. E H Carr argues that “the past is intelligible to us only in the light of the present; and we can fully understand the present only in the light of the past.” 95 There is a dissonance here for Tamura, whose positive memories of the continent from his first tour of duty there contradict the bitter conditions he experienced while travelling overland en route to the far realms of New Guinea. The metropolis of Tianjin provided relief from the oppressive conditions of the journey across the frozen plains of the Chinese north‐east. Tianjin January 18 We arrived at Tianjin at 4.30 in the afternoon. We had dinner here. Tianjin was like a metropolis of North China and the platform was quite big too. The girls selling the Chinese flowers, a specialty of the region, were beautiful. Holding 廻りましたが 零下 三十五度と言ふのに始めて 体験しわずか五分内外で 目の痛むのには驚きました 北支の広野は一物もなく 見渡す限り大平原 乾燥しているためか雪余りなく 唯汽車の窓のみ厚氷 しばしこの当地に別れ又 南方に行きてより 95
Carr, E H, ed., What is History? (London: Penguin Books, 1990). 62. 275
red and yellow flower baskets, they walked among the congestion of passengers. I fondly remember the beautiful Chinese garments. It was just a pity that I couldn’t hear their voices. There were sick and wounded soldiers in a carriage that had come from Peking. The Japanese Red Cross uniforms were also awe‐inspiring. Also, five or six of the nurses, 96 fondly remembered angels in white, stuck their heads out of the windows to farewell us off. I really wanted some books to ward off the boredom in the train, but I couldn’t get any because my money couldn’t be used here. All I could do was look out the window at Tianjin Station. The advance of the Japanese was really widespread. No matter what the place, you saw fellow countrymen. 98
Special Rations 97 Sweet bean jelly Cigarettes 96
The word Tamura uses for nurses is 白衣の天使 which literally means angels in white (ministering angel). 97
Here Tamura refers to the supplemental rations available to troops, and he particularly singles out sweet bean jelly and cigarettes. 98
Tamura 54 天津 一、十八日 天津に着いたのが午後四時半 ここで夕食を摂る ここは北支の 大都市らしくホームも相当大きい 支那名物花売り娘が美しい 赤黄の花籠を抱いて混雑の 客の合間を歩く きれいな支那服も懐かしく 思い出されて唯聲のきけざるは 残念 北京より来りし車に 傷病兵が居た 日赤の正装も りりしく 又 懐かしい白衣の天使 五人六人窓より顔出して 我等を見送る 276
As the train pulls into the busy station, Tamura is inspired by the beauty of the Chinese women and their garments. These are presumably familiar experiences from his previous time in China. In fact, he laments not being able to hear the voices of the women, also an experience which would evoke pleasant memories of a time past. Entranced as he is by the colourful baskets and clothing of the young Chinese women selling flowers, Tamura’s account of the city as evening approaches begins in an up‐beat mood. However, he also experiences the cruel reality of war in the sight of wounded soldiers being transported from Peking. 99 While there is reference, too, to the boredom that is an ever‐present element in the soldier’s life, the overpowering sentiment is one of the glory of the Great Empire of Japan. Nurses are present, supplemental rations are available, and Tamura’s pride at the potential of the advancing Imperial Japanese Army is palpable in the entry. 車中の退屈に本をほしがるに 金が通用せぬので駄目 唯窓より見る天津の驛 日本人の進出相当多くどの 町も同邦を見る 加給品 羊羹 たばこ 99
Although the common Japanese term for Beijing at the time was in fact Beiping, Tamura uses the characters for Peking. Nancy Guy explains, “Following the Nationalist Revolution in 1927, the capital of the Republic of China (ROC) was moved to the Southern city of Nanjing and Beijing's name was changed to Beiping.” See Guy, Nancy A "Peking Opera as "National Opera" in Taiwan: What's in a Name?" Asian Theatre Journal 12, no. 1 (1995). 86. 277
Although clearly willing to give himself over to these sorts of self‐
indulgent musings of nostalgia, Tamura is brought back to reality by the evidence of the “widespread” advance of Japanese troops. This realisation almost certainly operated to remind Tamura of the purpose of this journey, permitting him to indulge in the pride of a foot soldier of this expanding Empire, a foot soldier whose selfless effort will contribute in some small way to the nation’s grander plan. The final sentence of the entry above is an interesting reference to a soldier’s special rations – which might include alcohol – and also to sweets and cigarettes. These are goods that are in short supply in the homeland but which appear to be readily available for sale on the Tianjin platform. Such luxuries are only a fond memory in the New Guinea jungle. As the convoy nears the end of its journey in China and is about to embark for the South, Tamura once more realistically records the bleak nature of the north‐east China landscape under the title “Departure for the Front, 19 January.” The intensely cold North China is now in the dry season. You can’t open your eyes even in the lightest wind. It’s a dust cloud! Where the sun shines its fairly warm, but in the shade the biting cold pierces your skin.
100
Tamura 55 出陣 一月十九日 厳寒の北支は今乾燥期だ 少しの風にも目もあけられぬ 278
100
Overshadowing this travelogue‐like chronicle of the bleak surrounds is Tamura’s sense of foreboding concerning the obvious lack of preparation given to the troops on their way to the Southern battlefield, a lack which unsettles the more seasoned among the men. We arrived here late last night and concentrated totally on the preparations for departure. The regimental soldiers nagged us, “this isn’t sufficient,” “that is useless.” This upset and agitated the long serving soldiers who were on their second tour of duty. […] Today, the day of the departure ceremony, is again clear and there’s no rain. Luckily there’s only a slight wind. On this warm spring‐like day we leave the billeting camp and head for the departure ceremony.
101
砂煙りだ 陽光の当る方は 割合に暖きも日陰の方は 非常にしんしんと肌にしみる 101
Tamura 55 昨日の夜おそく現地に着いて 何もかも夢中に出発準備 あれが足りぬこれは不要と 隊の勇士に教えられる 歴戦の勇士も二度の応召で すっかり面食らう形 お蔭で気忙しき姿なり 出陣式におもむく 今日もからりと晴れて雨期 なし 幸 風弱くして 春日和宿営の地を出発 して式場に向ふ 279
While there is mention of the relatively calm air, the coming spring and the formalities of departure, the general impression of the entry is one of deep anxiety and unrest. Tamura continues with an account of aspects of the ceremony held in Asia to bid the men farewell. The young men gathered under the great flag of Japan, in clouds of dust, the bright beating of drums and our battle colours. On the North China plain, dazzling in the sunlight, advancing in glittering splendour, truly men under the battle colours ready to die. Five thousand stalwart youth!
102
In spite of what must have been a very bleak ceremony marking the unit’s departure from China, Tamura fills the page with dazzling praise for the young men who are embarking on an ostensibly glorious mission. The pathos of a far‐flung parade‐ground somewhere on the dust‐swept Manchurian plains with make‐shift roads is elided in the reference to the “five‐thousand stalwart youth” who gather in the blinding rays of the sun beneath the hi no maru flag. Tamura proudly asserts that these young men 102
Tamura 56 大日章旗の元に集う若者 砂煙りに中にりょうりょうたる らっぱの音と共に我等の軍旗 陽光まぶしき北支の広野に さんぜんと輝き進み来る 男児の本懐 軍旗の元に 我死せん健児は五千 280
marching across the dusty plain in time to drumbeats are the “glittering splendour” of Japan. Again, kokutai language enables Tamura to make sense of the highly abnormal circumstances in which he finds himself. 103 The memory of the thousands of soldiers representing the might and power of the Empire offers momentary reassurance in the tropical setting where there is little evidence of this might and power and every suggestion that death and defeat will be the outcome of the Southern campaign. Tamura’s idealized michiyuki through Japan begins with curative and comforting memories of his beloved home country. The record of his journey through Korea and North China gave him the ideological reassurance that he was still part of a glorious Imperial mission. The strength of his own re‐creation and re‐imagining enabled him to cope with the challenges of his current landscape. In fact, re‐remembering past events and the images of the homeland allowed Tamura “a measure of solace in the here‐and‐now” 104 that, partially at least, compensated for his trials in New Guinea. The following chapter will consider how Tamura reconfigures the alien nature and landscape 103
Here we recall Aaron Moore’s argument that diaries were a space for self‐mobilization. Moore, "Essential Ingredients of Truth: Japanese Soldiers' Diaries in the Asia Pacific War." 168. 104
Nosco, Remembering Paradise: Nativism and Nostalgia in Eighteenth‐century Japan. 4. 281
of New Guinea in order to remain connected to and in touch with the familiar landscape of home. 282
Chapter Five Re‐visioning a Familiar Landscape Introduction This chapter will examine how Tamura Yoshikazu deploys the trope of nature to create a sense of the familiar in a completely alien environment and thus finds the comfort and solace necessary to enable him to function as a member of the Japanese Imperial Army amid the horrors of the New Guinea front. The focus of Chapter Three was on those elements of this alien environment that threatened Tamura’s existence in New Guinea and undermined his affiliation to the kokutai ideology. Chapter Four examined the ways in which Tamura created a form of contact with the homeland, and re‐visioned his memories of past experiences in order to combat the physical and psychological debilitation of life as a soldier in the tropics. We will see in this chapter that Tamura was also adept at responding to certain elements of his natural surroundings to fashion a sense of familiarity and comfort that permitted him to function in intolerable circumstances. The chapter will elaborate on the way in which Tamura selected various elements of the New Guinea environment and created associations between these elements and the familiar elements of the homeland, Japan. The emphasis here will be on seasonal imagery, especially autumn, topographical 283
features such as mountains, and astronomical features, including the moon, the stars and the open sky. Nature: Controller or Controlled Tamura’s relationship with the alien environment of New Guinea presents the diarist with the binary of controlled and controller. The New Guinea surrounds have the power to embrace Tamura and merge him within their confines. Since it is impossible for Tamura to re‐imagine the inescapable physical impact of the incessant rain and stifling humidity, or the deprivation associated with illness and lack of food, these elements of the environment become his controller. Alien landscape causes him to be a “being out of place” and thereby dominates his physical world. 1 In spite of the fact that very little in Tamura’s current physical environment produces in him the sense of familiarity which is essential to his psychological well‐being, the diary indicates that he does, in fact, develop a number of strategies designed to bring some semblance of normality to the conditions under which he is forced to function. In addition to the creation of fictional friends and the recollection of his journey to New Guinea elaborated upon in the previous chapter, a 1
Davies, Bronwyn, (In)scribing Body/ Landscape Relations (Walnut Creek, Lanham, New York, Oxford: Altamira Press, 2000). 54. 284
key strategy in this respect is identifying and re‐imaging the less invasive aspects of the New Guinea natural landscape into concepts that are associated with – or that even overlay and blur with – remembered images of the homeland. To borrow Michael Peterkin’s argument, there is within Tamura “a consciousness of self that struggles to attribute meaning to all kinds of external natural phenomena.” 2 Bronwyn Davies argues that “what we think of as nature is saturated with desire – desire for a particular kind of embodiment or a particular kind of landscape – but the thing we long for and imagine is illusory and elusive and reflects our longing as much as what is actually there.” 3 A strong undertone throughout Tamura’s diary is the desire to create a “homely” imagined landscape from the “unhomely” alien landscape of the tropics. By drawing parallels between the local alien and distant familiar and by re‐
creating, re‐inventing and re‐crafting into familiar surrounds the gentler elements of the alien tropical scenery that besets his senses in Wewak, Tamura is able to remain precariously anchored to a sense of normality. Here the philosophy of Watsuiji Tetsurō is again helpful. Naoki Sakai notes that, according to Watsuji, “the totality to which a person belongs is 2
Peterkin, Michael Russell, "An Analysis of Landscape and Character in the Works of Japanese Author Nitta Jirō" (University of Newcastle, 2002). 10. 3
Davies, (In)scribing Body/ Landscape Relations. 13. 285
circumscribed in terms not only of historical, political, and sociological factors, but also climatic, geographic, and ethnographic specificities.” 4 As a person whose “totality” is grounded in his role as an Imperial Army soldier and also in his role as a member of the community of Imperial Japan, Tamura is unable to function effectively without some sense of connection to the “climatic, geographic and other ethnographic specificities” of the Emperor’s homeland. The re‐interpretation of the harsh alien natural environment of New Guinea into a more familiar set of images by selectively remembering a homeland landscape that will afford some escape from the immediate permits two cathartic experiences for Tamura. The first of these is the release of emotions, such as melancholy and loneliness, but also, on rare occasions, elation. Secondly, by drawing upon widely circulated and deeply entrenched – perhaps even clichéd ‐ scenic elements of the homeland, Tamura can sometimes momentarily obliterate the grotesquely surreal environment in which he finds himself. He can thereby, if not obscure the horror of life in a war‐zone, then, at least for a brief while, re‐craft his surroundings in a way that can be accommodated by his senses. What becomes patently obvious in Tamura’s attempt to recreate an alien environment into a familiar set of images is the prominence of the powerful poetic 4
Sakai Naoki, "Return to the West/ Return to the East: Watsuji Tetsurō's Anthropology and Discussions of Authenticity," Japan in the World: Duke University Press 18, no. 3 (1991). 176. 286
discourse that has been a consistent feature of self‐writing in Japan for over a millennium. These images, which include aspects of Japan’s unique nature such as the iconic cherry blossoms and the majestic Mt Fuji, were successfully appropriated by the authorities of the pre‐war era, especially during the 1930s, and transformed into weapons of propaganda to justify setting Japan on the path to total war. Tamura draws heavily upon this iconography in order both to come to terms with his immediate environment and also with the official insistence that the soldier of Imperial Japan unquestioningly accept death on the battlefield in the name of the Emperor. 287
Re‐creating an Emotionally Accommodating Landscape Figure 13 5
Inabayama no tsuki The image above by woodblock artist Yoshitoshi (Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, 1839 ‐1892) of a samurai grappling with an impossible terrain, his sword supported by the full moon, red with passion rather than silvery white with Buddhist detachment, 6 is a visual representation of how, in traditional Japanese aesthetics (appropriated in a 5
This picture was copied from the website “Le Blog de Doku Akan,” dorukakan.wordpress.com/2009/01/11/japanese‐art/ It appears in Tjardes, Tamara, One Hundred Aspects of the Moon: Japanese Woodblock Prints by Yoshitoshi (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press, 2003). 60, as the 51st representation of the moon. 6
Dumoulin, Heinrich, Heisig, James W, and Knitter, Paul F, Zen Buddhism: A History of Japan (New York: MacMillan, 1988‐90). 230. 288
particular way, as we have seen, by the kokutai discourse), landscape is part of and even promotes human endeavour. Tamura, too, draws upon enduring aspects of landscape, the aesthetic and spiritual content of which momentarily make meaningful the chaos of his current circumstances. His heart and mind are nurtured and the ideology of the kokutai again prevails. W J T Mitchell argues that “landscape exerts a subtle power over people, eliciting a broad range of emotions and meanings that may be difficult to specify.” 7 The “subtle power” to which Mitchell refers was the result of an education system that, as noted in Chapter Two, valorized Japan and the country’s natural landscape. While Peterkin identifies the link between landscape and climate, arguing that “climate is history and time, and as such, climate can stand for landscape,” 8 Watsuji Tetsurō believed that “from the very first, climate is historical climate” 9 and that, in fact, our understanding of ourselves in climate is also one that is “accumulated over the years since the time of our ancestors.” 10 To be removed from the ancestral landscape created 7
Mitchell, W J T, ed., Landscape and Power (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2002). vii. 8
Peterkin, "An Analysis of Landscape and Character in the Works of Japanese Author Nitta Jirō". 113. 9
10
Watsuji Tetsurō, Climate and Culture. 10. Ibid. 289
a psychological insecurity for subjects of Imperial Japan, an insecurity that Tamura expressed in his diary entries. Tamura is trapped in a war‐zone where an intractably unfamiliar landscape dominates his world. However, the manner in which he records his impressions of this landscape indicates a constant struggle to make sense of these alien surrounds by interpreting various elements of the tropics in terms of familiar images of home. In order to observe this process of interpretation in which Tamura engages, we might consider the diary’s opening entry, which hints at his initial mindset on arriving in New Guinea. It also provides the first example of Tamura’s attempt to engage with and make sense of his environment. We appreciated coconuts when they were still novel to us. In the autumn sunshine, mayflies 11 are flying here and there. The night in the land of everlasting summer is long, As fireflies flit across the darkness. 12 11
Keiko Tamura uses “mayfly” here, also more commonly called dragonfly. She renders these verses in one line while the originals are in two lines. 12
Tamura 2 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 椰子の実も珍らし内は うれしかり 秋陽気蜻蛉が 空に飛び交わし 290
While the verses display a positive curiosity on Tamura’s part at being installed in an environment which offers new experiences, the reference to “autumn sunshine” in the “land of everlasting summer” nevertheless suggests a sense of destabilization and cognitive insecurity. We noted previously that Tamura arrived in New Guinea in February, 1943, after a long and grueling voyage. Departing Japan in the depths of winter, the troop‐ship then detoured to China where the men endured a week of training in sub‐
freezing conditions. This was followed by an ocean voyage of almost three weeks with the ship docking in New Guinea on 22 February. Given the likelihood of seasickness during the voyage and exhaustion upon arrival, it is understandable that the first entry of the diary expresses a kind of relief at finally reaching the anticipated destination. 13 Tamura’s initial response to his new surroundings is certainly not surprising when we consider that, with its pristine turquoise waters, Wewak in 1942 was undoubtedly a place of great natural beauty. 蛍光に常夏の国の 13
Tamura 32 夜は長し 大部分の船酔いが出て無中なり Tamura 32 While the entry refers to the unit’s arrival in Pusan, there is little doubt that these problems would have been endemic during the voyage. 船中車中の疲労からか大部分の 船酔いが出て無中なり 291
While these opening verses demonstrate an immediate tendency to make sense of the new environment in terms of natural elements experienced at home, we also have noted a degree of cognitive confusion that results from the writer’s efforts in this respect. This is perhaps caused by crossing the equator, and is likely to have been exacerbated also by his being despatched to the extremes of a war‐zone. Equally important, however, is the marked seasonal difference between familiar Japan and alien New Guinea. Wewak has no seasonal change ‐ just wet and not so wet. Tamura arrived in the middle of the local north‐west February monsoon, a climatic phenomenon never experienced by the new arrivals while in the northern hemisphere. Tamura’s challenge is to express this in terms of familiar seasonal markers and seasonal images. In fact, as Julia Adeney Thomas asserts, “a particular culture […] arises through the repetition exacted by nature’s annual cycles.” 14 In this unfamiliar environment Tamura attaches seasonal meaning to what is possibly the only familiar sight – that of dragonflies. In Japan, of course, the dragon‐fly appears in late summer/autumn. Here, the sight of the dragonflies flitting about makes Tamura mistakenly feel that it is autumn in New Guinea too. Dragon‐flies, however, are not the only insect life that strikes a familiar chord with the diary writer. Since the sun rises in Wewak around 6am and sets 14
Thomas, Julia Adeney, Reconfiguring Modernity: Concepts of Nature in Japanese Political Ideology. 202. 292
around 6.30pm, Tamura’s environment is shrouded in darkness for almost twelve hours every day. His isolation in these long nights is comforted by the familiar glow of the fireflies. This early entry, then, heralds a pattern of making sense of the alien tropical scenery in terms of familiar tropes and images that Tamura will follow throughout his diary. Since part of this familiarization involves repeated reference to autumn, it is useful to further investigate this element. Autumn as a Seasonal Anchor Tamura often refers to “autumn,” particularly in the verse sections of the diary. While many homeland references are used to uplift or encourage, this is not always the manner in which the trope of autumn operates in the diary. In the following poem, for example, the image of falling leaves – one of the elements of the natural autumn environment ‐ is used to express sorrow and loneliness. The sound of the falling leaves is lonely in my sickroom, 15
Here on the front, I long for autumn at home. In this passage Tamura alludes to ancient references to autumn as a season of melancholy in order to render familiar the new environment while simultaneously 15
Tamura 77 落葉の音淋しく思う病室に 祖国の秋を偲ぶ戦線 293
highlighting its alien nature. Thus, even when expressing melancholy, Tamura’s use of traditional autumnal references provides a modicum of comfort by identifying and labeling his emotions in familiar cultural terms. Literary commentator, Ōnishi Yoshinori (1888 – 1959), a pre‐war teacher of aesthetics at the University of Tokyo, identifies this comfort with the “‘fragility’ of Being” to be found, for example, in the work of haiku poet, Buson (Yosa Buson 1716 – 1783). According to Ōnishi, Buson’s verse “highlights a major characteristic of beauty, which is ‘fragility’ of Being, [by finding] fulfillment and pleasure in his awareness of the sorrowful nature of the world.” 16 As evidence, Ōnishi offers the following verse by Buson. There is also happiness In loneliness: Autumn dusk. 17 In commenting on the above, Ōnishi argued that, by drawing on the universal image of “autumn dusk,” Buson was liberated by placing the cosmic sorrow (which he would otherwise experience subjectively) into an objective position. 18 16
As quoted in Marra, Michele, Modern Japanese Aesthetics: A Reader (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1999). 117. 17
As quoted Ibid. 117. Sabishisa no/ Ureshiku mo ari/ Aki no kure. 18
The Japanese verb “to feel sad” (ureu) contains the kanji for autumn together with heart. 294
This strategy was also employed by Tamura, who must objectify his emotions in order to remain detached from pain and disillusionment generated by his immediate environment. Autumn continues to provide scope for this objectification. Autumn The bone dry leaves rustle, autumn’s depths. The dragonflies are high in the blue sky, autumn’s end. Insects call the sentry standing in the moonlight, 19
The voice of autumn visiting for one night the land of everlasting summer. Tamura’s complex combination of imagery, which foregrounds the dragonfly, the blue sky and the bone dry leaves, once more, as in the diary’s opening verse, merges summer and autumn. There is a sense of relief that autumn has visited this land of endless summer. After all, at home the end of summer also brings some relief from the kan kan (scorching/ blinding) heat of the sun’s rays. 20 In other words, although he consciously understands that the season has the characteristics of summer, strong emotional forces, and perhaps his desire for respite from the heat, compel Tamura to construct the 19
Tamura 108 秋 かさかさと落葉ゆらぎて秋深し 空碧きて蜻蛉高き秋の暮 月影に立てる歩哨に虫ぞなく 常夏に一夜訪る秋の声
20
Berque, Augustin, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture, trans. Ros Schwartz (Northamptonshire: Pilkington Press, 1997). 28‐9. 295
season as autumn. While the lonely figure of the solo sentry becomes an embodiment of Tamura’s melancholy, the image is bathed by the comforting moonlight which, in a circular turn that brings the passage back to the point of origin, is rendered melancholy by the sound of the autumn insects. Re‐imaging Remembered Landscape The poet Bashō (1644–1694) merged his identity with nature, “appreciating its beauty and following its course.” 21 However, here in a landscape that resists Japanese sensibilities, Tamura is physically unable to adhere to this pattern. He must therefore re‐imagine his world to continue functioning as an individual in accordance with Imperial Japanese Army demands. We might regard this compulsion to make sense of the lived tropical landscape by constructing it in terms of more familiar surrounds as an example of Maruyama Masao’s view of the impact of the discursive kokutai environment on the subjects of Imperial Japan. Maruyama argued that “autonomous individuals could never hope to flourish because of the extraordinary difficulty of imagining their world other than how they found it.” 22 Even outside his 21
Qui, Peipei, "Reinventing Landscape," in Matsuo Basho's Poetic Spaces, ed. Eleanor Kerkham (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). 68. 22
Thomas, Julia Adeney, "The Cage of Nature: Modernity's History in Japan." 17. 296
homeland, Tamura cannot survive without reimagining his environment in a way that is directly linked to the familiar imagery of Japan. The repeated return to the trope of autumn is a dominant strategy in this process. In the passage below, in spite of the unchanging nature of the tropical environment, what is likely to have been a mild drop in temperature inspires Tamura to attribute a “sentimental” homeland‐like autumnal “melancholy” to the New Guinea surrounds. It’s autumn, and the tops of the palm trees are rustling. Until just a few days ago it was summer, and suddenly it’s cool like the middle of autumn. The sound of the falling leaves adds a touch of melancholy. Autumn in the 23
southern land is somehow sentimental. While the end of May signifies the start of cooler trade winds in New Guinea, there is, as we have seen, little variation in tropical temperatures throughout the year. 24 Although nights may appear to be cooler, there was no such thing as the onset of autumn in the sense implied in the temperate zone, during which time leaves fall, skies become clearer and days begin to shorten. However, regardless of the meteorological facts of his 23
Tamura 107 椰子の梢がさらさら揺れて居る 秋だ 遂近日まで夏で急に 訪れた中秋の様に涼しい 落葉の音も一抹の哀愁こぞり 南国の秋は何かしら感傷的だ
24
http://www.climate‐zone.com/climate/papua‐new‐guinea/fahrenheit/port‐moresby‐w‐o‐.htm 297
circumstances, the sound of the falling leaves evokes in Tamura a sense of autumn in Japan. It is of significance here that he uses the word “melancholy” (哀愁) to describe the sound of the falling leaves. The character for melancholy includes the kanji for autumn (秋) and heart (心), as noted earlier for the verb to feel sad (愁う), which further heightens the imagery evoked. Falling leaves and autumn melancholy are not the only signifiers of home identified by Tamura in this alien environment. Moreover, as demonstrated by the extract below, there is a constant dissonance in the writer’s response to his environment so that the violence of the war‐zone, where explosions “[shatter] the dawn stillness,” can somehow articulate with the “chirruping of insects,” an image of the remembered peace and comfort of a previous life. From inside the mining hut we use as barracks, we see the beautifully glittering stars. The roar of an explosion shattering the dawn stillness and the chirruping of insects in the thicket out the back, both seem to be right inside this room. The chirruping insects make me feel like I have been visited by the 25
beloved bell crickets which I used to hear on the river banks of home. 25
Tamura 107 掘立小屋のこの兵舎できれいに 輝く星を見る 又暁の静けさを 破る爆音も裏の草むらに なく虫の音も部や内でする様だ 虫がなく故郷の堤にきいた 懐かしい鈴虫が訪れ来て 298
The imagery used here for the violent act of Allied bombing provides insights into Tamura’s longing for refuge. In Chapter Seven we will see how the diarist becomes attached to the regularity of air raids as a daily occurrence – a routine constant in a highly irregular world. As one of the familiar sounds of summer at home, the sound of the bell crickets here also provides a comforting sense of the predictable. Although the sky that Tamura views from his barracks is that of mid autumn, it is often the shining stars that replace the common Japanese autumn night sky trope of the moon. 26 In the stanza above, the light of the stars is juxtaposed against the melancholy of the autumn images of the insects and the chilly air. Seeking solace in nature, Tamura further contrasts the beauty of the starlight with the parlous state of the undoubtedly dilapidated mining hut that is now his shelter. While the man‐made environment might be in disarray, nature in its beauty evokes Ōnishi Yoshinori’s “fragility of Being” which, in fact, provides the writer with a momentary escape from his real‐life circumstances and elevates him to the metaphysical. The conflation of falling leaves and summer crickets is not the only example of the dissonant overlay of seasonal imagery found in the diary. Tamura’s 26
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 31. Berque writes that “when it is forecast that the fifteenth night will be overcast, people begin to look at the moon the day before […] or they try again on the ‘sixteenth evening’ and if necessary they persevere again on the following nights.” 299
descriptive language often contradicts the meteorological facts of his natural environment. In the poem below, the call of a native bird of New Guinea evokes an association with the advent of summer in Tamura’s Tochigi Prefecture hometown. However, the ideo/literary pull of the notion of autumn continues to take precedence. In the far away Southern land to which Tamura has been despatched, the sense of rushing headlong into autumn results in his mood shifting away from one of melancholy to a comforting nostalgia associated paradoxically with the prospect of summer. 27 As if singing an ancient happy song the call of the native bird suddenly seems to grow livelier. It is like the coming of summer at home. But this tropical 28
island seems to be rushing towards autumn. In this isolated foreign site, Tamura is deprived of the “ancient, happy songs” of his childhood. Now, only nature can provide the melodies necessary to stimulate his memory. The intensity of the bird’s song reminds him of the advent of the Japanese 27
Ibid. Berque suggests that the coming of summer means “the weather is fine. The sun shines all the brighter […] the shade remains cool, and the air is still dry.” 25. 28
Tamura 107 昔の嬉しい歌をきかす様に 野鳥の鳴く音も急に 忙しくなった様に思う 故国の夏へと向うに比し 南回帰のこの島は秋へと 走り行く様だ 300
summer, with its festivities, happy events, and holidays. 29 Conversely, here in New Guinea, the whole melancholic environment spells only autumn. Other seasonal markers are also invoked. Pampas grass, with clear autumnal associations in Japanese cultural production, was a common sight in the New Guinea highlands and a plant that struck a familiar chord, as one of the seven grasses of autumn, 30 in the otherwise alien surrounds. It was prized for its white flowers, and, when dried, traditionally used for thatching roofs at home. 31 Tamura is elated to discover this natural element which does not need to be re‐created to provide a direct reminder of the homeland. Like in early autumn, the pampas grass sways. It’s mountain tramping in May! 32
I guess May is autumn in this strange land. I ate banana and papaya too. This verse confirms that Tamura recognises the total contrast of his current experience to the more familiar aspects of home. 29
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 25 30
See Ibid. 33. 31
Baird, Merrily C., Symbols of Japan: Thematic Motifs in Art and Design (New York: Rizzoli, 2001); Young, David and Young, Michiko, The Art of Japanese Architecture (North Clarendon, Vermont: Tuttle, 2007). 121. 32
Tamura 92 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 初秋の様に 芒の穂なびく高原を歩く 五月だ 異郷にありて五月は 秋なのかも知れぬ ばななも食べた パパイヤも
301
In addition to arousing nostalgia and thoughts of home, the verse above refers to the highly sensory experience of eating tropical fruit. In war‐time Japan, a country controlled from 1938 by strict general mobilization ordinances that cut goods for domestic consumption by fifty percent, 33 tropical fruits would have long disappeared from the diets of civilian Japanese. We might read the banana and papaya as emphasizing the sense of the alien inherent in the phrase “strange lands”. Nevertheless, as letters and magazine extracts recorded by Tamura in the diary attest, 34 the ostensible availability of papaya, bananas and coconuts to soldiers in the Southern lands was seen in Japan as a romantic dream‐like symbol of Imperial success. Thus, mention of these foods in this context also creates an association with the imaginary of the homeland and even of the glory of the Great Empire of Japan. Occasionally, when Tamura’s unit moves to the mountains, references to autumn may, in fact, well represent the climatic conditions experienced. The verse below, for example, appears in a section of the diary headed “Transporting Food and 33
Earhart, Certain Victory. 125. Partner, Simon,"Daily Life of Civilians in Wartime Japan," in Daily Lives of
Civilians in Wartime Asia: from the Taiping Rebellion to the Vietnam War, ed. Stewart Lone (Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press, 2007). 134. The rationing of food on the home‐front meant that “women were told that ‘victory comes from the kitchen.’” 34
Examples are Tamura pages 7 and 15. 302
Supplies.” Here, the combination of cool air and the sight of the tall, swaying pampas grass elicits a cry of recognition from the diary writer. The rain has cleared in the high country. The tall pampas grass is moving in the wind. It’s autumn! When I deeply inhale the cool air 35 the hardship of 36
marching through the mountains seems worthwhile. Undoubtedly, conditions at higher altitudes were less demanding than the intense heat and humidity of the sea‐level Wewak base. Once more, Watsuji’s philosophy is of interest. Watsuji asserted that “one morning we find ourselves in a revived mood.” 37 This, he argued, was in response to specific external temperature and humidity, conditions that could induce an internally revived mental condition. However, while Watsuji merely attributed the revived mental state to the “freshness of the external atmosphere,” 38 in Tamura’s case the milder external conditions are also experienced as a reminder of the familiar home, particularly of the mountains associated with that 35
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 29 Berque notes the relief when one is able to “breathe in the evening cool” during the overbearing heat of summer. 37
Tamura 93 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 高原の雨が晴れた 背の高い芒が風に揺れて動く 秋だ 吹き来る涼風に腹一杯大気を 吸えば辛苦の山路が非常に 意義あった様に思える 37
Watsuji Tetsurō, Climate and Culture. 14. 38
Ibid. 303
home. In other words, in addition to Watsuji’s external atmosphere, it is the memory of home that inspires Tamura. As previously noted, the title of this section of the diary is “Transporting Food and Supplies,” an unremarkable label for what must have been the enormous difficulty of a trek hauling heavy materials across a mountain range where road construction was minimal if it existed at all. 39 Yet, as we saw in the extract above, merely breathing in the autumnal atmosphere of this scenery made the hardship meaningful for Tamura. He further expands I had longed to come to the high country, and finally my wish has become a 40
reality. I feel satisfied. Tamura’s simplest desire, the one thing that can make him feel truly at peace in this wretched place, is to be among the mountains, a feature of landscape that he adores. Higuchi Tadahiko’s view that “there is nothing else like a mountain peak for converting, 39
Ham, Kokoda. 143. Ham quotes Major General Horii Tomitarō, head of the Nankai Shitai (South Seas Detached Force) who noted that the landscape was “sparsely settled, uncivilized country, the roads of which are very poor.” Accounts of the difficulties of the Kokoda Track are numerous, and include Chan, Gabrielle, ed., War on our Doorstep (South Yarra, Victoria: Hardie Grant Books, 2003). 145, 206; and Happell, Charles, The Bone Man of Kokoda (Sydney: Pan McMillan, 2008). 36. 40
Tamura 93 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 明石の高原に行ってみたいと念願 して其の実現の様に心澄む
304
elevating, and sanctifying human nature” 41 is helpful for understanding Tamura’s feelings. Given the importance of mountains for Tamura, then, a further examination of their impact on the diarist is undertaken below. Mountains as Redemption An affinity with mountains continues to be a part of Tamura’s response to the natural landscape of the tropics. We have noted that the mountains around Wewak both calm and invigorate Tamura. He expands upon the scene of the trek into the New Guinea highlands with his confreres. White clouds floating here and there are moving slowly across the mountains. The scenery resembles a painting. The road has gone through mountain after mountain and valley after valley. When I think about the road ahead, I feel 42
awed as if I have finally experienced the real mountains. 41
Higuchi Tadahiko, The Visual and Spatial Structures of Landscape (Cambridge, Massacheusetts: MIT Press, 1988). 3. 42
Tamura 93 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 遠く近く浮ぶ連山に緩やかに 白い雲が流れて綿絵のようだ 山又山 谷又谷の荊の道 この先々の路を思うと本当の 山の真に触れた様になる 305
The adversity of his situation is not only assuaged by the beauty of the mountains but also transformed into a deeply spiritual experience. Reflecting Ōnishi’s “fragility of Being”, Tamura, too, is able to “purify” the “potentially threatening elements of natural beauty” by recognizing their aesthetic qualities. 43 In fact, the trek, which takes five days and three nights, has Tamura wishing that he could show the scenery to his friends at home who love mountains. With a short breather of twenty minutes, he continues on, “full of high spirits.” 44 For Tamura, mountains, even mountains in an alien land, “welcome and succour souls in distress.” 45 If Tamura has a deep‐seated love of mountains in general, Mt Fuji has a special place in his consciousness. As a symbol of the uniqueness of Japan depicted in the kokutai, Mt Fuji is a mythical representation of courage. 46 We saw in the previous chapter that when Tamura despondently questioned both his role in society and his station within the army, a picture of Mt Fuji that was circulated among the troops made his heart, and the hearts of his comrades, brim with resolve. 47 On the basis of his 43
44
Marra, Michele, Modern Japanese Aesthetics: A Reader. 117.
Tamura 93 非常に 元気ついて出発 45
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 66. 46
Ibid. Berque notes that the form of Mt Fuji was believed to be in of hands joined in prayer: “Mount Fuji eternally pray for the Japanese.” 67. 47
Tamura 124 久しぶりで心にしみる保養をした 306
wholehearted acceptance of the grandeur of Mt Fuji as the supreme kokutai icon, Tamura is able throughout his diary to re‐imagine the local mountains as places of spirituality, nobility, courage and solace, and to thereby gain a sense of strong resolve. 48 Tamura writes a lengthy seven page entry – one of the longest single entries in the diary ‐ under the title “Recording Impressions of Our Mt Fuji Climb as I Remember Them at the Burial Ground at the New Guinea Front.” 49 This memory was of a better time, a better place, and a more pleasurable experience than his current existence. Apart from a brief reference to “deserted shops” and “merchandise in disarray” 50 – presumably implying that due to the war effort customers are few and retailers are preoccupied with issues of national importance that prevent them from organizing their stock – there is little in Tamura’s recollections to suggest that the excursion occurs during a time of war. On the contrary, the tale of the Mt Fuji climb is one of unbridled joy and enthusiasm, of young people full of energy and joie de vivre. 部隊より回覧されし富士を 拝見してあきたらぬ心を慰む 暑い船中でよみさしの御盾 幾度よんでも心沸く 48
Shiga Shigetaka believed that “praised by Japanese and foreigners alike, Fuji was a measure for all other great mountains.” As quoted in Pyle, Kenneth, The New Generation in Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural Identity, 1885‐1895 (Stanford California: Stanford University Press, 1969). 116. 49
Tamura p 115 – 120. The date of the climb is recorded as Shōwa 17.7.5 (5 July, 1942). 50
Tamura 116 茶屋は起きていた 然しどの店も がらんとして商品だけが雑然たり 307
The title of the entry evokes a need for Tamura to remove himself from the grim environment of the burial ground to the memory of an “enjoyable way to spend a day off.” 51 The account of this mountain climb is in direct contrast to Tamura’s life now, where uncertainty is deeply rooted in the quotidian experience. During the climb, he was accompanied by young folk with the same purpose, milling about in the dead of the night. Which way? Which way? The crowd headed off in what they thought was the 52
right direction, carefree and cheerful.” How far removed from Tamura’s experiences in a New Guinea Burial Ground – presumably where his fallen confreres have been interred ‐ could this recalled scene have been? For the young people on the climb, there is no structure; there are no rules, no obligations and no threat of death. Tamura notes that “we visited the Sengen shrine to say a prayer. We got a carved seal on our walking sticks. This was supposed to give us good luck on our climb so that we wouldn’t give up half way.” 53 This positive luck, of course, is in enormous contrast to the bitter fate upon which Tamura must now rely 51
Tamura 115 […]休日利用の楽しい 52
Tamura 116 若い者同志の事まして真夜中 どっちだどっちだ 大勢行く方が そうだろうでおかまいなしの元気 53
Tamura 116 浅間神社に参拝 お礼を求む 杖に刻印をする これは登山には 落伍しない占いとか 308
in New Guinea. His climb to Fuji’s summit, a purely personal, indulgent endeavour, was assisted by the talisman of the carved walking stick. Now, here in the New Guinea jungles, there is only the strength of his own faith enabling him to survive. During this trek on Mt Fuji, the group stops to take a meal together. Tamura writes “we untied the lunch boxes we had prepared and ate. With our stomachs full, we were all fired up.” 54 As we have seen in Chapter Three, persistent hunger was a feature of life for enlisted men in New Guinea and the reference to “full stomachs” surely was written with a longing for the comforts of home. As they move to the next stage of the mountain, the fifty hikers are “crammed into a vehicle with the capacity of only twenty‐five.” 55 Even this uncomfortable inconvenience is described by Tamura as a “bit of a novelty” 56 where “the women couldn’t stop laughing.” 57 When Tamura’s friend, Watanabe, “jokingly [recited] the Purification of the Six Roots of Perception,” all in the group roar with laughter. 58 The whole scene is portrayed as one of delight and merriment, contrasting markedly with the desperate struggle of the war‐zone. 54
Tamura 116 用意の辨当をほどいて食す 腹も出来たとばかり元気旺盛
55
Tamura 116 神社の裏で自動車にのる 定員二十五名の中に五十人もつめて 56
Tamura 116 まるですし詰めこの車は新案 57
Tamura 116 女の人は笑いきれぬ位だ 58
Tamura 117 渡辺君がおどけて六根清浄を 309
As with the song “Who Does not Long for their Homeland” quoted in the previous chapter, Tamura is able to lovingly recreate the scenery of the mountain climb. Moreover, there is a palpable camaraderie and conviviality. 59 Here, Tamura presents as a spirited, relaxed, and happy young man climbing with other returned soldiers, possibly confreres from the China campaign. We are also made aware of just what a robust young man Tamura was when he writes “since we started to outstrip the people in front of us, someone said enviously ‘you young ones are as fit as a fiddle.’” 60 By again “substituting for real experience,” 61 the recollection and recording of this invigorating event provides Tamura with a familiar and nurturing context that permits him to adapt to his current locale. Elsewhere in the diary Tamura again records his joy, regardless of the hardship involved, at having to tramp over mountains to change base camp. Under the title “Mountain Beauty” he writes となえたので東京の娘さん まあ ひょうきんだ事と大笑い 59
Pyle, The New Generation in Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural Identity, 1885‐1895. 161. Pyle notes that “according to Yanagita Kunio, it was during the Meiji Period that mountain climbing gained popularity; formerly an expression of religious faith, it now became a sport, a chance for travel and adventure.” 60
Tamura 118 どんどん先の人を追いこすもんだ から 若い者は達者だねーと 羨ましそう 61
Ritivoi, Yesterday's Self: Nostalgia and the Immigrant Identity. 20. 310
Above the white clouds, Dotted with mountain peaks 62
It feels like a mysterious world, that mountain range view! His description of the beauty of the scenery is in direct contrast to the degree of effort required for the troops to reach their destination. When I realise that we have traversed on foot this mountain and that mountain and yet another mountain, I am surprised myself at the strength of 63
my feet. The mountains are not particularly high, but the slopes are steep. Nevertheless, the grueling trek pays dividends in terms of the vision of the mountains revealed. Experiencing the difficult mountain march Makes me homesick for the mountains of home. 64
And I see the beauty of the mountains after the difficulty of the climb. 62
Tamura 92 山の美 頂が点々と見える白い雲の上に 或る神秘の世界の様に思われる 連山の風影だ 山々の美 登る辛苦の末にみる 63
Tamura 92 あの山もあの山もみんな踏破して 来たと思うと足の威大さに 自驚する 高度にしたら差程 高くはなけども相当に急な 坂の上り下りを思い 64
Tamura 92 辛苦の山の行軍を味い見て 故郷の山が懐かしい 山々の美 登る辛苦の末にみる 311
In spite of the effort required, then, the local mountains are conquerable. They are a part of nature intrinsic to Tamura’s existence as a subject of Imperial Japan. Traversing mountain peaks ‐ even in New Guinea ‐ provides a sense of comfort in addition to instilling a strong sense of pride. Both physically and psychologically the mountains of the war‐zone transport the diarist above the enclosing and isolating canopy of the jungle, a jungle which denies him the view of another well‐loved aspect of nature – the moon. The Moon as Traveller The moon is a prominent element in the landscape of the diary. The moon, in spite of the fact that it is often not visible through the rain clouds and the jungle canopy, is a fellow traveler across the night sky. Interestingly, while Tamura’s reminiscences about mountains only ever refer to the mountains of Japan which are then compared to those in the alien environment, he reminisces about the moon viewed in China as well as, of course, the moon at home in Japan. The moon is a familiar companion that has taken the same journey as the writer and, as a number of diary entries attest, thereby brought a sense of comfort to otherwise bleak and dismal scenes. 312
Recalling a train journey through China in an entry entitled “The Moon on the Wide Plains,” Tamura notes as he traverses the barren plains of Manchuria at dusk that his “head is filled with the racket of the train.” This grim scene, however, is transformed by the rising of the moon. The moon is coming out. Ah the moon is out! The moon now begins little by little to rise and the surroundings gradually become lighter. Seeing the same moon as of home from the window of the train running on the embankment, all of us are glued to the windows, overwhelmed with a longing for home. 65
The faraway horizon grows dim. In this entry, the moon arouses mixed emotions. Firstly, Tamura is invigorated by the sight of the moon. It is a stabilizing force that provides a security in its omnipresence. However, the sight of the moon also creates a sense of loss, a longing for his homeland. The darkening horizon represents not only Tamura’s exodus from the familiar past but also his journey towards the uncertain destiny of his future. Like a poignant image of the lost home, the rising moon becomes a source of comforting nostalgia that lights the 65
Tamura 58 月が出る ああ 月が出た 月は今ほのぼのと上り始めて 周囲がだんだん明るくなる 堤の上を走る汽車の窓に 故郷と変わらぬ月を見て皆が 窓にもたれて望郷の念さりがたし 地平線の彼方がかすんでいる 313
way for the men who gather at the train window in order to catch a glimpse of its familiar radiance. Tamura records these recollections in a location where the jungle canopy and the late afternoon cloud cover or constant rain frequently deny him a view of the moon. The moon’s presence, therefore, is often merely a remembered construct, full of symbolism for Tamura. This symbolism, to borrow Nitta Jirō’s terminology, “becomes fully apparent when it is clear that he had advanced onward from being [merely] physically affected by phenomena to being spiritually affected by phenomena.” 66 While the landscape of China was inhospitable and barren, with only “fiercely tangled barbed wire” 67 to greet Tamura and his confreres, the appearance of the moon, the same moon that is seen at home, evokes a lingering homesickness for the troops who view its shape in the evening sky. This homesickness is not defeatist; rather it nurtures a sense of oneness and mutual encouragement among comrades to endure whatever the journey holds in store. 66
Peterkin, "An Analysis of Landscape and Character in the Works of Japanese Author Nitta Jirō". 191. 67
Tamura 58 橋のそばのトーチカにも歩哨なく いかめしい鉄条網ばかり 314
Rushing on through the darkness to uncertainty, Tamura’s dismal scene is calmed not merely by the appearance of the moon, but also by the memory of the mother that is here coupled with the moon. He concludes The moon lights up the plains of North China, north and south, and our destination nears. This moon resembles the moon on the night my mother 68
sent me off. Maybe my mother’s love can reach this far. The maternal image was one of the most ideologically loaded and powerful images of Japan’s militarist era. 69 The pathos filled image of the isolated soldier in China – we have seen that Tamura’s unit trained there in freezing conditions – gazing up at the moon and recalling the mother of the homeland is here associated with the grimly uncertain future. Moreover, the rising moon brings the destination closer. Even though this is likely to be a local reference to the destination of the train journey, it paradoxically intensifies the sense that the young men were being fatefully transported closer to the battlefield and, in many instances, to a certain encounter with death. 68
Tamura 58 月が出て明るい北支の野を 北に南に目的地は近し 母の見送り月に似て 慈愛ここまでとどきけるかも Here Tamura recalls his send off to China in his first enlistment 69
Earhart, Certain Victory. 422‐423. 315
All the more poignantly, this is the only entry in the diary which mentions Tamura’s mother, who, as we have noted earlier, was deceased by the time of his departure for the South. Roberta Rubenstein notes “the link between home and mother” 70 as a major aspect of homesickness. In fact, home can be a place “associated with mother and safety where no‐one – least of all the mother herself – ever dies.” 71 Tamura’s loneliness is calmed and soothed by the thought that home might be attainable once more through his mother’s love reaching even this distant wasteland. Tamura’s entry echoes the poem, often quoted to express the homesickness of the expatriate, by Abe no Nakamaro (701 – 770), who spent thirty years in exile in China and who wrote longingly from the Asian continent. As I look into the vast expanse Can this be the same moon 72
That I saw rise in Kasuga behind Mount Mikasa? Through being repositioned by the moon’s presence to the smaller landscape of home, of mountains, and of the mother’s love, Tamura, the traveler, feels a greater sense of 70
Rubenstein, Roberta, Home Matters: Longing and Belonging, Nostalgia and Mourning in Women's Fiction. 8. 71
Ibid. 45. 72
This poem is attached to the 64th representation of the moon by Yoshitoshi. See Stevenson, John, Yoshitoshi's One Hundred Aspects of the Moon (Leiden: Hotei Publishing, 2001). Page numbers not present in text. See also the 45th representation of the moon (variance in translation) in Tjardes, One Hundred Aspects of the Moon: Japanese Woodblock Prints by Yoshitoshi. 54. 316
being transported from the alien vastness of the Chinese land‐ and skyscape to the well‐
known landmarks of home. This effect operates on Tamura as it did on Nakamaro over twelve centuries ago. Tamura’s recollection of the journey by troop ship along the coast of New Guinea is also dominated by his memory of the moon. 73 With the appearance of the rising moon, the landscape of New Guinea, like the landscape of China, becomes less threatening. 74
The sea mists over faintly. It’s the full moon! The round full moon gradually emerges from the wispy clouds, its light growing brighter. No‐one on board is talking. As we watch the moon emerge, the silhouette of the island grows dark. We progress along the coast, and even though there doesn’t seem to 75
be much of a swell, we are swayed from side to side like fluttering leaves. 73
We recall that Tamura’s unit moved between Wewak, Dagua and But. His diary does not elaborate on these movements. The exact location of the troop ship is unclear, except that it was travelling along the coastline. 74
Tamura uses the term 十五夜だ. Berque states that the fifteenth night moon of the eighth lunar month, (and thereby autumn), is significant as of the ideal time of traditional moon viewing festivities. Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 31. 75
Tamura 84 海上はうすぼんやりとけぶる 十五夜だ まるまるの月はうす雲の 中より次第に光を増す 皆んな乗った誰も余り語らず 月の出るを見る 島影黒く なる岸を進みだした 見る目には差程ゆれなくも 船は木葉の如く左右さる 317
The description given here echoes the imagery of the moon given in the Tosa Nikki, the first example of Japan’s so‐called ‘diary literature’ (nikki bungaku). On the twentieth day of an arduous journey to the capital undertaken by Ki no Tsurayuki (872‐945), author of the classic text, the writer compared the moon viewed on that occasion with the vista of the moon in the capital. It is the same moon I saw at the mountain rim In the capital Yet now it comes from the waves 76
And into the waves retreats. There is comfort for Ki no Tsurayuki in the moon’s appearance. While the waves toss the boat (of existence) the moon steadily and constantly rises to light the way with a single message of home. Comfort is also derived from the fact that the moon is a fellow traveler, a steady consolation for the transience of existence, expressed in the image of the boat “swayed from side to side like fluttering leaves.” The omnipresence of the moon is alluded to by Tamura, too, when he concludes soon after that 波にゆられて 76
As quoted in Goregliad, Vladislav, "The Space Category in Medieval Japanese Literature," Japan Review 6 (1995). 97. 318
On board the ship sailing back, bathed in the moonlight, every one of us 77
would have felt that this moon is not different from the moon at home. Although the physical environment of New Guinea remains alien, the appearance of the familiar moon serves to make it more bearable. Regardless of the traveler’s location, the moon is the face of a friend. Given that it is the same moon that is viewed in Japan, there is no need to re‐fashion, or struggle to make sense of, this aspect of the New Guinea night sky. Indeed, the moon, like Mt Fuji as observed earlier, serves to purify the obscenely earthly setting of battlefield. Moonlight The battlefront is quiet with the swaying autumn grasses, 78
The night birds call and the moonlight is white. Now silent, except for the strange night bird’s cry, the midnight battlefield becomes a transcendently serene autumn scene, with the melancholy of the pampas grasses illuminated by the moon’s immaculate white light. 77
Tamura 85 月の光にぬれて歸路の船中 誰も故郷の月と変らぬ月を 思いみた事であろう 78
Tamura 98 月光 秋草のなびきて静けし戦場に 夜鳥なきて月光白し 319
We have noted the complexity of the autumn images, which often express Tamura’s growing melancholy. This complexity works to heighten the sense of the familiar which contradictorily is both comforting and nostalgic. This tension is evident in the following passage evocatively titled “Moon” dated 22 May. The moonlight glistens on the tips of the palm trees. In the silence bathed by the white light, the moonlight paints the tips of the palms beautifully, brilliantly white. The insects chirp, their voices so close I feel I can touch them. A peaceful, really peaceful evening! Gazing at this moon I feel emotional, as if I am seeing autumn at home. This night in the Southern land is surely autumn. The pampas grass is swaying. The insects are chirping. The sound of the flapping wings of a night bird whose name I do not know for 79
some reason stabs at my heart. It’s half a year since I left home. 79
Tamura 97 月 五月二十二日 月光が椰子の梢に輝く 白い光にぬれる静かな中に 月光が白く椰子の梢に照り 輝いて美しい 虫がなく まるで手に取る様にきこえる 本当に静かな 静かな晩だ 丸い月をみていると故郷の 秋をみている様に何となく センチ的になる 南国の夜は確かに秋だ 芒がなびく 虫がなく 名も分からぬ夜鳥の渡る羽音も 何故かしら胸にしみる様だ 故郷を発って半年 320
The environment is alien, with palm trees and the unfamiliar sound of a night bird. However, yet again, the recognized signs of autumn in the sounds of the insects, the swaying autumn grasses, and the round full moon, remind Tamura of home. The moon thus transports him away from his current reality back to a more favourable time and place. In entries such as these that foreground his isolation, Tamura occasionally refers to solitary twilight strolls. It’s strange living here in the battlefield. Alone here, lonely on such an evening, I remember the evenings I used to take a stroll along the river bank .80
at home These recollections of unaccompanied walks along riverbanks alone at home serve to reinforce the deep sense of severance from the motherland, Japan, which reverberates throughout the diary. They also exacerbate Tamura’s sense of isolation in New Guinea. この戦線に生きているのが不思議の様だ こんな晩には独りで淋しく 河堤を散歩した夜を思い出す 80
Tamura 97 この戦線に生きているのが不思議の様だ こんな晩には独りで淋しく 河堤を散歩した夜を思い出す 321
Ever present though it is, the moon does not always provide the desired solace of familiarity. In the extremity of his grief a few days after the death of a comrade, Tamura is beyond comfort, removed from all that can console. Forgetting My Grief A night when the thoughts of the river banks of home 81
do not reach me at the battlefront, even though the moon is shining. Here the moon has lost its capacity for either consolation or nostalgia. Even this familiar trope has become a part of the unheimlich landscape of the battlefield and is no longer a link to home. The Sky and the Moon as Surreal Landscape The association between moonlight and the field of battle often creates a surrealistic effect in Tamura’s text. Engaged as he is in building airfields in a war‐zone, Tamura is particularly vulnerable to air attacks. While he has no person to person contact with the enemy, his daily life is marked by relentless bombing raids. Wada Kiyoshi gave a factual account of his war‐time experiences, with reference to the 81
Tamura 98 忘愁 月照るど想いとどかじ戦線の 故郷の堤思い出づる夜
322
“discouraging and miserable state” of the battlefield, a place where “trees have fallen, limbs have been cracked and the hospital is in a horrible state.” 82 Tamura, on the other hand, chooses images which virtually transform the field of battle into a place of beauty. This effect is particularly apparent in his discussion of the sky and its features. Martin Heidegger argues that Rainer Maria Rilke “sets up the world towards himself and delivers nature over to himself. […] Where Nature is not satisfactory to man’s representation, he reframes or redisposes it. Man produces new things where they are lacking to him.” 83 Tamura, too, reframes the natural landscape to better represent his emotional needs. Refashioning his terrifying environment into a site of almost mystical tranquillity by focussing on those aspects which permit recollections of Japan, Tamura is able to distance himself psychologically from the more intolerable element of his current surrounds. He can also find emotional healing and rest in this nostalgically purified landscape. The passage below is a fitting exemplar of Tamura’s use of the sky and the stars to express his deep longing for release from his present circumstances. The sky has cleared. After I don’t know how many days, I can see the stars. They shine brightly through the branches of the big trees. I can’t tell you how 82
AWM ATIS 348 Diary of Wada Kiyoshi. 83
Heidegger, Martin, Poetry, Language and Thought. 110. 323
much I have missed those stars. It really stabs at my heart living here in the middle of the mountains. Perhaps because I’m confined to this dwelling, my 84
yearning for the crystal clear, wide‐open sky becomes all the more intense. The jungle, the alien landscape of conflict, is only made bearable by turning his eyes to the astronomical phenomena. Although the melancholy of his situation is transformed into joy at the sight of the stars, familiar even here in this alien landscape, it is the wide open sky – presumably of Japan ‐ that Tamura longs most keenly to see. The diarist expands the entry with a concluding reference to “this April of flowers,” 85 giving an unworldly sense through recollections of the ostensible peace of home to this account of his yearning for escape from his current circumstances. Tamura seems to have been able, even if only for the time it took to write, to transport himself to the flower‐filled April of Japan, perhaps imagining cherry blossoms here in the middle of New Guinea. While the moon is repeatedly used to transform an alien and bewildering setting into one that is familiar and comprehensible, this process – perhaps of necessity 84
Tamura 73 そらはれぬ 幾日ぶりかで星を見る 大木の梢ごしにきらきら光るあの 星が何とはなく懐かしい 山の中に生活して胸突く家に 起居すれば澄みきったあの 大空への憧れも一入か
85
Tamura 73 花の四月に 324
given the writer’s location ‐ also creates images that are disconcerting in their internal contradictions. This is the case in a section of the diary relating to one of Tamura’s short sea trips, probably from Wewak to But or Dagua, 86 where his unit was involved in airfield and road construction between April and June. Memories of my past experience of ship life came to me, as I gazed at the stars, 87
when all at once our ship arrived at its destination. The entry is one of many that see present circumstances blur with those of the past. Tamura continues with a poem Bathed in the light of the moon, The fatigue duty soldiers return. Fatigue duty soldiers rocking in their ship in the moonlight, 88
A troop ship of soldiers celebrating the full moon on the battlefront. Presumably comforted by the rhythmic motion of the ship, the soldiers are cleansed by the pure light of the moon, celebrating its presence as a sign of their continued survival. 86
As noted in Chapter Two, Tamura’s unit was deployed to these three coastal areas in New Guinea: http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256
b73000e4618?OpenDocument. 87
Tamura 85 久しい海の生活を思い浮かべて 星を見つめていたら何時か 船は目的地に近づいて居た 88
Tamura 85 月光にぬれて作業の兵還る 星影に船ゆられける作業兵 十五夜を戦地で偲ぶ交通船 325
Nevertheless, with its reference to soldiers returning from fatigue duty, the passage also hints at the drudgery of hard labour that characterized Tamura’s time in the South. Tamura’s juxtaposition of the pure light of the full moon and the vessel with its cargo of war‐weary soldiers transforms a battlefront scene into a serene picture echoing innumerable moon tanka. 89 Leopold Hanami suggests that the juxtapositions in verses of this nature are “all the more striking in that the elements at the core of this sensation are opposites.” 90 Here, those contradictions are the moon of nature and the grueling daily life of the men forced to take up arms in the name of the Emperor. Drawing on this device of contrastive comparison, Tamura is inspired to permit the ugliness of the battlefield and the exhaustion of the war‐weary soldiers to be cleansed and made pure by the chastity of the moon. On the battlefield, with its continuous sound of explosions and no hope to find shelter from either the rain or the enemy’s bombs, the autumn images serve to 89
As quoted in Hanami, Leopold, "Loosening the Links: Considering Intention in Linked Verse and Its Consequences," in Matsuo Bashō's Poetic Spaces: Exploring Haiku Intersections, ed. Eleanor Kerkham (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). 142. Bonchō’s (1640 – 1714) poem, which Hanami quotes: In the city Ichinaka wa the smells of things Mono no nioi ya a summer moon. 90
Natsu no tsuki Ibid. 143. 326
increase Tamura’s growing melancholy. Only the familiar, soft roundness of the moon, contrasting with the fearfulness of the setting, provides comfort. The round moon rose gently above the waves of the sea, and in the gathering dusk the silhouette of the coastline grew dark. With the sound of the waves a lullaby, weary from a hard day’s toil the men in the barracks on the beach also grew still. 91 In addition to the comforting image of the moon rising “gently,” the movement of the waves is yet again expressed as a rocking sound, here articulated as a lullaby that soothes the troops after one more in an endless series of “hard day’s toil.” Soon after the entry above, Tamura gives an account of an evening scene rendered uncannily quiet by the setting sun and the summer clouds. The Evening Base The setting sun sinks between the waves of open sea. In the battlefront sunset the edges of the all‐too‐quiet summer clouds appear above the mountain. The palm stands darken. For some reason, the evening bugle sounds. The little five‐man boats return to the wharf one by one. It feels 92
vaguely poetic. 91
Tamura 83 海の浪の上にぽっかり丸い月が出た夕闇たそがれて 岬の影黒くなり 浪音を子守唄に日中の多忙なる 使役に疲れてか浜辺の兵舎も静かになった
92
Tamura 86 基地の夕暮れ 沖の波間に夕日が沈む戦場の 327
While references to the “battlefront” and the “evening bugle” clearly place the verse in a war‐zone context, the reader could nonetheless easily interpret the passage as the leisurely reflections of a writer with both time and resources at his disposal. The “vaguely poetic” sense experienced by Tamura is surely a defence mechanism designed to protect the writer from the full impact of the horror of war. Even the noise of the return of friendly fighter planes fails to destroy the sense of consoling tranquillity with which nature has tinged the scene. In fact there is an understandable sense of joy that pilot comrades have returned to base unharmed. One plane went towards the clouds, another towards the mountains, the leading plane flew low in a huge circle dipping his wings and then after one more circuit descended to the base in the shade of the trees. The others, showing signs of fatigue from the bombing raids, waited obediently for their turn, circling once or twice over the sea and then came in. Another one descended. Like children waiting their turn cheerfully as they come home at 93
dusk, having finished their work. 日暮れには静かすぎる様な 夏雲のはしが山の上に出ていた 椰子の木立も黒くなってくる 何処かで夕げの喇叭がなる 波止場に伍々歸り来る小艇 何となく詩情の様にうつろう 93
Tamura 87 一機が雲の方に一機は山の上に 先頭機は低く大きく旋回して 翼を振っているそして一旋して 328
There is a naïvety and innocence to the passage that belies the deadly missions being flown by the pilots. Tamura’s words recall the propaganda texts for children that exhorted the young subjects of the Emperor to “cheerfully” do their part for the cause. Tamura expands the entry with reference to the response of the soldiers at the base to the sight of the aircraft that have returned safely for one more day. Everybody watched the sky, their hearts filed with gratitude, thinking, if not saying “well done.” You young stars! At the base that is fading into dusk, all the aircraft safely land, and as the sound of explosions ceased, the 94
surroundings suddenly grew dark. Here Tamura expresses a sense of collective solidarity with the Imperial cause on the part of himself and his confreres. Each member of the unit works with the same express 木陰の基地に降りて行った 他の機は爆撃の疲労を みせているに正しく自己の準を 待って一回二回と海の上迄 廻って来る 又一機下りた 夕暗迫る頃任務を果たして 我が家に歸る子供の如く 更に元気に見せて順をまつ 94
Tamura 87 皆なが空を見て御苦労さんと 口には出さねど心に誓って 感謝する 若き花形戦士よ 黄昏れる基地に全機無事 着陸して爆音止むと 急にあたりが暗くなった 329
purpose, creating a sense of community that transforms the landscape into one of belonging. As we fade into dusk, the friendly planes return. Three planes, five planes accomplishing their mission return in the highest spirits. The base they return to becomes quiet in the twilight. 95
The summer clouds float in the clear sky. The fighter pilots’ mission accomplished, the alien landscape again becomes familiar and peaceful under a clear, friendly sky. Inevitably, Tamura makes repeated reference to the Allied air attacks on Wewak, which, as we have noted, occurred mainly at night, frequently waking Tamura. While his description of night raids is written with powerful action images, he ironically juxtaposes this with reference to the ‘music’ of the weaponry involved. Tamura writes of a raid on 11 April Through the quiet of the night, we could hear the sound of a plane engine. I gradually woke up, wondering what time it was. The guard shouted “air 95
Tamura 88 黄昏れて友機が還る三機五機 任務果して意気高々と 歸り来る基地夕暮れて静かなり 夏雲浮きて空はればれと 330
raid!” Soon enemy planes approached above us and the searchlights lit up the sky. The anti‐aircraft gunners started to open fire. The special music of the night 96
began to play. Reference has been made to Wada Kiyoshi’s disconcertingly realistic references to the horrors of the war‐zone. Tamura, even when under direct attack, ironically images these horrors in terms of comforting and familiar notions such as music. On occasions, a soft background of natural effects adds an ethereal element to the violence of events recorded. Fine continuous rain, characteristic of the tropical rainy season, keeps falling. It seems it is raining hard as we listen to it beating on the jungle leaves. However, the enemy planes dare to fly in this weather to bomb our position. The sound of the explosions become quite numbing and the next one shakes the ground and the sky. Boom! Boom! We can hear the explosions one after 97
another. Here they come! 96
Tamura 40 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 四月十一日 静かなる夜の大気を突いて かすかに爆音がする 今頃 何時頃だろうと おぼろに目覚む 不寝番が空襲とどなった その中敵機は頭上に迫り 照空燈が光だした 高射砲がどかん どかんと撃ち出し 夜の特種の音楽が始まった 331
The noise of the air raid attack is softened by the unimaginably soothing tones of the fine rains which harmonize with the rustling of the leaves. 98 Nature is complicit as a backdrop in allowing the glory of the war to take centre stage. Tamura’s narrative is interrupted by the return of the enemy in a bombing raid to which he agitatedly responds with the exclamation of “Here they come!” 99 signalling a return to the role he is expected to play. The rush of adrenalin associated with the battle makes some sense in terms of the life he is now leading. Terrifying though it undoubtedly is, the coming of the enemy at least allows Tamura to return to his noble role as a soldier of the Empire. 97
Tamura 40 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 南国特有の雨季の様な細い雨が しとしとと降ってジャングルの中は 葉音と共に相当降って居る如く 見受けられるに敵もさる者 飛んで来て爆撃す 一際爆音の高くなりその次に 天地をゆるがす轟音 どかん どかんと連続音がした ああ やって居る 98
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 16. In this entry the rain is not the hated rain that we discussed in Chapter Three. Rain, according to Berque “is intricately bound up with a whole universe of sensations, emotions, and evocations whose codified associations confine it to a particular landscape.” 99
Tamura 40 ああ やって居る 332
In spite of the fact that he is possibly about to meet his death with the onslaught of the bombing attack by a far superior enemy, Tamura describes the attacks in highly aesthetic terms. The beauty of the bullets that were fired from the flying planes. They are just like fireworks soaring from the ground.
100
Describing a bomb raid a few days later, Tamura again beautifies the scene by using the concept of music and “night serenade” to express the sound of approaching enemy planes. 101 Tamura’s identification of the sight and sound of the bombs with nostalgic summer festive images of fireworks and music renders the battlefield compellingly surreal and at the same time familiar and beautiful. It is evidence of his desire to transform a dangerous, alien reality into a beautiful, exciting celebration, and sublimate fear into an aesthetic thrill. Of course, this thought process was well within the confines of the ideology of the kokutai which, as we have seen, portrayed war as beautiful, exciting and triumphant. 100
Tamura 44 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 機上より撃ち出す弾丸の 美しさ地上の送り花火にもにて 101
Tamura 68 日毎訪ずるボーイング 何とこしゃくと高射砲 織り成す夜のセレナーデ 爆弾の洗礼幾度ぞ 333
We have seen in this chapter that, although the natural environment can act as a constraint upon Tamura, paradoxically, scenic descriptions in this soldier’s diary are generally couched in terms of the cultural landscape of his home country, familiarizing a frighteningly strange environment. This reimagining of the alien landscape enables Tamura to reinforce his sense of identity as a soldier of the Emperor, and by sustaining his faith in the ideology driving the obsessive militarist agenda that has gripped Japan, to persevere in the deadly task. The mission of the kokutai was to make Japan’s nature the universal measure and to envelope and transform all occupied nations into an (admittedly somewhat inferior) image of this ultimate model. This objective seems to have been internalized by Tamura so that he is able to superimpose images of Japan’s special natural features onto the alien, hostile landscape of New Guinea rendering this landscape meaningful, bearable, and even beautiful. Michael Peterkin argues that “the effects of landscape […] are ultimately physical and spiritual because it reflects the empirical place […] on real time landscape.” 102 By drawing upon culturally dominant forms and remembering familiar landscape, Tamura is able to reassure himself of the naturalness and familiarity in cultural and historical terms of the Imperial mission and, 102
Peterkin, "An Analysis of Landscape and Character in the Works of Japanese Author Nitta Jirō". 190. 334
by extension, the places that this mission takes him. Inevitably, however, Tamura must deal with the greatest threat to his faith in the kokutai, and that is the prospect of impending death. Chapter Six will interrogate the way in which Tamura calls upon the iconography and motifs of the kokutai to enable him to remain committed to the pathway of a noble death. 335
Chapter Six Death as Man’s True Calling Introduction Tamura Yoshikazu left Japan in the full knowledge that he would be likely to die at the battlefront. His commitment to death on behalf of the Emperor was his ultimate “goal involvement” in the nation’s expansionist quest. 1 We recall from Chapter Two Daniel Druckman’s argument that “ego involvement,” as part of the process of the creation of a nation, instilled in subjects a sense of belonging. Inherent to this sense of belonging is a sense of shared identity and self esteem “derived from national identification.” 2 Associated with this is the concept of goal involvement, entailing subject contribution to achievement on behalf of the nation. These two concepts are pivotal in Tamura’s quest to remain true to his commitment to the ultimate sacrifice of death. This chapter will investigate the concept of noble death in terms of Daniel Druckman’s “ego and goal involvement” for soldiers under the kokutai ideology of Imperial Japan. 3 I will overview the concept of the noble death, and interrogate 1
Druckman, Daniel, "Social‐Psychological Aspects of Nationalism," in Perspectives on Nationalism and War, ed. John L. Comaroff and Paul C. Stern (Luxembourg: Gordon and Breach, 1994). 50. 2
Ibid. 50. 3
Druckman, "Nationalism, Patriotism, and Group Loyalty." 63. 336
Tamura’s attempts to motivate himself to comply with the demands of the Imperial cause in the face of almost certain death. As we have seen in previous chapters, various sections of Tamura’s diary discuss events and experiences from the past and recount memories of the familiar landscape of home. These recollections provide Tamura with a psychological coping mechanism to deal with the overwhelming circumstances of the New Guinea war‐zone. We have noted that the physical landscape which surrounds Tamura ‐ a landscape so unfamiliar as to seem bizarre in the eyes of the young soldier from rural Japan ‐ does not destroy his belief in or commitment to the kokutai. On the contrary, in his writing Tamura successfully manipulates the Southern landscape and modifies his perception of the New Guinea environment so that this alien setting becomes familiar. In other words he re‐imagines and re‐fashions the landscape of the tropics into something supportive of his faith in the kokutai. Underscoring Tamura’s narrative is the ever‐present expectation of death. Regardless of the strategies he uses to allay his insecurities and to bring some semblance of normality to a highly abnormal environment, it soon becomes clear that his death will not be the glorious event prescribed by both his education and his military training. Tamura is able to self‐motivate towards what will undoubtedly be a less than 337
noble death by committing himself through both ego and goal involvement to the ultimate aim of achieving what he himself refers to as “man’s true calling.” 4 This chapter will examine the ways in which Tamura attempts to re‐fashion his demise into something that appears glorious and worthwhile. In doing so, he calls upon the ideology of the kokutai in the manner identified by Ohnuki‐Tierney in her discussion of the way in which the teachings of the Imperial state penetrated “the minds of the people so successfully that they accepted and resigned themselves to their fate.” 5 Submitting to taigi – The Great Obligation to Die It is self evident that overpowering thoughts of death will inevitably dominate the mind of someone in a crisis situation, such as a war‐zone, where life is constantly under threat. Fujii Tadatoshi has noted that most records of war experience are accounts of the writer’s grappling with the likelihood of impending death, 6 and Tamura’s text is no exception to this general observation. Adhering to the principles of kokutai required the acceptance of death on behalf of the Emperor, like the carp on the 4
Tamura 121 陛下の臣として戦場に散る 男子の本懐之に過ぎず 5
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Emiko, Kamikaze Diaries. xiii. 6
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 7. 338
cutting board. 7 Was the ‘cutting board’ in fact the kokutai ideology itself, which demanded absolute devotion to the notion of self‐sacrifice? Did soldiers lay down their lives as quietly and unquestioningly as the carp for the love of the ideology under which they served? Tamura reveals that he accepts the requirement for death as “man’s greatest calling.” This sentiment echoes the words of Lieutenant‐Colonel Sugimoto Gorō (1903 – 1937) who, in the pamphlet he published for Imperial Japanese Army troops, focused on four important aspects associated with a commitment to taigi, an expression that implies a great obligation to die. The first of these was that soldiers should revere the Emperor, the second that soldiers should relinquish their sense of self, the third that the sacrifice of soldiers would play an integral part in the expansion of Imperial power, and lastly, that soldiers could expect a reward in the afterlife for their sacrifice. 8 7
The Japanese word for carp (koi) is also the word for love. Therefore, although the use of characters in written Japanese clarifies the meaning, in spoken Japanese the term “the carp on the cutting board” (sojō no koi) can be translated as either the carp on the cutting board, or for the love of the cutting board. Metaphorically, the cutting board can be the Japanese ideology of kokutai, and the koi of this statement can be interpreted as both the carp (Japanese soldier) and/ or the love that he held for the ideology. There is a belief that a carp will lie quietly on the cutting board waiting for its fate of death. Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 60. 8
Sugimoto Gorō was a Zen practitioner and a lieutenant‐colonel who died, reportedly standing up, in battle in North China. He wrote the book for soldiers titled Taigi. Sugimoto Gorō, Taigi (Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1938). 23‐25, as quoted in Victoria, Brian (Daizen) A, Zen at War. 117. For more on Sugimoto see also Ibid. 116, 126, 127 339
This section will examine Tamura’s commitment to the greater cause of Japan. The difficulty for Tamura on the New Guinea battlefield is undoubtedly disintegration of conviction. While in the discursive environment of home Tamura may have been inspired with thoughts of noble death, once in New Guinea belief in the strength of the army and its noble role is overshadowed by the ordeal of survival. From the outset of the diary, it is clear that Tamura is aware of the bitter contrast between his previous war experience and his present situation. This is apparent in his reference to an arrogant proprietary comment made by a Japanese soldier about conquered territory at the height of the victorious period of the Imperial Army’s Southern campaign. I remember reading in a magazine that a soldier who was marching toward Rangoon during the Burma Campaign said, “I want to piss in the Pacific Ocean.” 9 The fall of Rangoon was a pivotal success for the Japanese Army in the region, and, at the time it occurred, Japan was in a position of ascendency in the South. 10 By the time that Tamura recalls this article, however, Japanese soldiers, particularly in New Guinea, 9
Tamura 16 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 太平洋に小便がしたい 誰かが ビルマ作戦の真中ラングレーを 攻略すべく行軍こんな事をした と 或る雑誌に出ていたのを思ふ 10
Rangoon fell to the Japanese in March 1942. Costello, John, The Pacific War (London: Pan, 1981). 240. 340
had been reduced to a state of desperation, a fact apparent in the sardonic comment that concludes the entry, “When I remember the article, I cannot help but smile wryly.” 11 This passage provides a graphic insight into Tamura’s feelings now as a standard‐bearer of the Empire. For the soldier whom the diarist cites above, the act of pissing in the ocean expressed his sense of mastery, totally in keeping with being part of the greater taigi for victorious Japan. Arrival on the shores of New Guinea, however, gave no such sense of superiority to Tamura who must create a fictional space of supremacy for himself in order to sustain a commitment to his obligation to perform as a vital agent involved in Japan’s greater mission in Asia. The dilemma faced by Tamura in creating that essential space recalls Kano Masanao’s discussion of degrees of honne and tatemae. 12 Kano argues that soldiers’ commitment to taigi was actually tatemae (keeping up appearances), while the personal ambition of soldiers was their honne (real intentions). For Tamura, the boundaries of honne and tatemae are not so distinct. To continue to exist within his environment, 11
Tamura 16 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 今我はニューギニアの海岸で この事を思い出して何となく 苦笑せざるを禁じ得ぬ 12
Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto. 81. 341
Tamura must continue on his path of self motivation. In doing so, he repeatedly invokes his devotion to the Imperial cause as an element of his real intentions. Keene has argued that Japanese military personnel included patriotic slogans in their diaries in order to comply with regulations. 13 If we accept that Tamura’s words were, particularly at this juncture of his existence in New Guinea, written primarily for himself, then it is problematic to deny, as Keene does, that Tamura was at all times committed to the greater cause of taigi. In the case of Tamura, it is his stirring words and the depth of belief in his role that, in fact, assist him to self motivate. 14 In order to suppress any slippage into the abject actuality of his life now, he clings with deep pride to a belief in the superior intestinal fortitude of the soldiers of the South, revealing in the process a naïve purity of heart, makoto gokoro. In spite of this purity, the diary suggests a recurring fear that he may lack the courage to adhere to the Emperor’s greater cause. From the beginning of his role as a soldier of the Imperial Japanese Army, Tamura has pledged to serve his Emperor until death. Of course I have never regretted Dedicating myself to you, my Emperor! 13
Keene, ed., Chronicles of My Life. 37. 14
Moore also argues that soldiers used these patriotic slogans as a means to self‐motivate. Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy.” 185. 342
Here in the South Seas where the red flowers bloom 15
To fall and bear fruit is my long cherished desire. Here we see Tamura’s blustering assertion that the death he accepts on the Emperor’s behalf is a death that is so noble as “to bear fruit,” presumably the glorious expansion of the Empire. Even the insufferable weather, he argues, fails to dampen his enthusiasm for the military campaign. This heat is nothing To this body that was trained in China: My comrade heads off to the challenging battlefront 16
with a huge grin on his face. While the reality of Tamura’s current existence is encapsulated in the words “challenging battlefront,” he describes his friend, who may have also been trained in China, perhaps even together with Tamura himself, as overcoming adversity with humour. However, though Tamura may try to maintain his spirits with this observation, there is a manic sense of hysteria that underpins this verse. 15
Tamura 51 元より君にささげし身 何の未練があるものか 赤い花咲く南海に 散って実るぞ本懐だ 16
Tamura 51 支那できたえしこの身体 こんな暑さが何のその 戦友は張きる戦線に にっこり笑って発って行く 343
Perhaps to prevent descent into the dark realms of mental instability, Tamura returns to a language that expresses the continuing desire of his confreres to contribute to the Emperor’s project when he adds We will carry out our duty on this soil Till the end of the Greater East Asian War. The pledge of the bearded warriors, We are the South Seas Expeditionary Force. 17 Of interest here is how Tamura describes the soldiers. Within the samurai tradition, the wearing of a beard was known to make the warrior look more fearsome, 18 and Tamura aligns himself with that convention. This is in spite of the fact that, in reality, the beards of the soldiers in New Guinea are merely an outward sign of the deprivation which the men are now experiencing. The extracts cited above confirm Tamura’s conviction that he and his fellow soldiers are part of the grand plan to unify and bring peace and prosperity to Asia 17
Tamura 51 大東亜戦終るまで この地でやって行くんだと ひげの勇士のたのもしさ 我は南海派遣軍 18
The Hagakure states that “the warriors of old cultivated moustaches, for as proof that a man had been slain in battle, his ears and nose would be cut off and brought to the enemy’s camp. So that there would be no mistake as to whether the person was a man or a woman, the moustache was also cut off with the nose. At such a time the head was thrown away if it had no moustache […] therefore growing a moustache was one of the disciplines of a samurai so that his head would not be thrown away on death.” Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai. 165. 344
under the banner of the Great Japanese Empire. His words, in fact, closely align with the teachings of the Kokutai no Hongi, the key ideological tract published for schools in 1937, which stated that Our Imperial Forces have come to hold a position of responsibility in which their duty is to make our national prestige greatly felt within and without our country, to preserve the peace of the Orient in the face of the world powers, and to preserve and enhance the happiness of mankind. 19 Clearly, this document was designed to lay the foundations of a “national prestige” that would justify ill‐conceived and poorly resourced military campaigns doomed to failure. It was Tamura’s misfortune to have a role in one of these. Even though, as we will explore in the following chapter, Tamura’s response to the role he assumes in New Guinea is frequently one of disappointment at the lowly status accorded him, he continues to express in the diary his deep need for reassurance that he is indeed participating in something glorious and noble. The previous chapters outlined the diarist’s craving to recreate familiar landscape, to manufacture contact, and to re‐imagine climate. The most poignant element of Tamura’s needs, however, is a yearning for a past that appears much less problematic and challenging than the present. 19
Monbushō, Kokutai no Hongi. 171. 345
A seemingly light‐hearted entry titled “Idle Chatter on the Train,” describes Tamura’s train journey through North China. The quarrel, to have a coat or not to have a coat How silly the chatter! War comrades' night games. 20 The banter about coats, which might have been quite serious at the time the men were traveling, given the freezing temperatures of Northern China, now seems ludicrous here in the heat of New Guinea where the troops are deprived of all resources. Enroute to the South, Tamura’s confreres were lively and energetic enough to also fantasize about girls. See a young girl and that’s all we talk about, The longing of young soldiers. Relating our memories like romantic stories, 21
We relieve the tedium of our journey. 20
Tamura 53 汽車雑談 毛があると無しと争う戦友の 語りもおかし男夜遊び 21
Tamura 53 姑娘を見れば話はそればかり 若き兵士の心懐し 想い出をロマンスらしく語らいて 旅のつれづれ時を送らん 346
This verse, which reveals the unsuspecting innocence of young men with no consciousness of the horror of the fate that awaits them, ends with a stirring word picture of the reception given to the transiting Japanese in China. In the hot sunshine, the plains are white, With myriads of children to send us off, Our journey continues. 22 How noble and gallant these young soldiers under the Emperor’s discursive thrall surely felt when farewelled by crowds of children as they departed to conquer and thereby liberate other parts of Asia, and to bring these “liberated” territories into the embrace of “enlightened” Japan. Significantly, the excited children are not Japanese. These are the children of the “emancipated” Chinese that Tamura and many of his colleagues have had a hand in liberating. The diary makes no mention of the brutal policies exercised by the Imperial Japanese Army invaders in enacting that “liberation.” The final section of the entry reveals what is perhaps Tamura’s subconscious inkling of the unpredictability of his future expressed as a desire for a map to bring some certainty to the anxious journey to the South. 22
Tamura 53 照り映えし広野は白し 万人の子等見送りに 旅は進まん 347
What I most keenly felt on this train journey Was that I must have a map 23
An essential item to take care of the future. Now, here in New Guinea, ironically, a map is no use to him in the dense, dark jungle, where the soldiers lose their way when merely looking for food. A map can give no protection from death or disaster. But memories of a more pleasant and hopeful time seem to alleviate Tamura’s distress. In returning to these memories, Tamura gives credence to Linda Anderson’s assessment of Freud’s assertion that “memories were never memories of actual events but phantasies (sic) […] they did not have an existence outside their psychic function.” 24 While the psychic function of Tamura’s memories is to ensure that he never wavers from accepting the fate of death as a worthwhile military goal, the environment in which this death has been programmed to occur will continue to chip away at the foundations of his commitment. On 13 April, Tamura once more unhesitatingly identifies himself with the mission of the South‐West Pacific battlefront. In this entry he acknowledges the 23
Tamura 53 この汽車の旅で一番痛切に 感じたのは地図なりき 必要品として後に注意 24
Anderson, Linda, "At the Threshold of the Self: Women and Autobiography." 54‐55. 348
Southern Cross, a constellation which is repeatedly mentioned in gunka (war songs) glorifying Japan’s project in the South. Crossing faraway seas and mountains, I too have come all this way To the New Guinea battlefront, 25
Under the stars of the Southern Cross. So overwhelmed is Tamura by loneliness and longing in a land where the sight of the Southern Cross overhead in the night sky serves to confirm his separation from the homeland that he is reduced to seeking comfort from the alien native birds. Today as the tops of the palm trees sway And the waves crash out to sea at night, Birds of the Southern land, won’t you comfort me With a song as I take up my gun? 26 Tamura’s dilemma of reconciling the alien nature of the battlefront with the need to remain committed to taigi is summed up in the final verse of the entry. 25
Tamura 67 四月十三日） 遠い海越え山越えて 俺もはるばるやって来た 南十字の星の下 此処は戦線ニューギニア 26
Tamura 67 椰子の梢のゆるる今日 沖の浪音高き夜 銃を取る身を慰めて ないて呉れるか南国鳥
349
(Night insects) In the jungle where the crocodiles live And the mountain valleys where the serpents crawl, The unceasing commotion of construction, Is it ringing in the dawning of Asia? This is the battlefront. 27 The battlefront is no longer the relatively familiar terrain of China, with the prospect of both a noble death and liberation for the Asian brethren. The battlefield is now truly a backwoods, a totally uncivilized place inhabited only by crocodiles and snakes ‐ neither of which is native to Japan – which, with the night insects, add to an uncannily destabilising sense of rupture from home. The only evidence that confirms for Tamura that the New Guinea front is remotely related to the grander scheme of emancipating Asia is the sound of his own construction work. Tamura’s use of the expression “ringing in the dawning of Asia” evokes the words of Kawai Tatsuo who proclaimed that Japan needed to lead in the 27
Tamura 67 (夜の虫） わにの住むよなジャングルに 蛇がはいだす山の谷 いとわずひらひら建設は 明ける亜細亜の鐘のねか 此処は戦線 350
“dawn of a new Asia.” 28 By the time Tamura began his tour of duty in the South, the Japanese military controlled “key Allied military positions in Southeast Asia, and half of the Pacific.” 29 As David Earhart notes, “from 1942–1944, the pages of Japan’s newspapers and magazines were filled with images of promise, heralding the birth of the new Asia.” 30 In 1938, when Kawai championed the goals of Japanese expansionism, Japan’s coalition with other Asian states, the so‐called Greater East Asian Co‐prosperity Sphere, had been little more than an ultra‐nationalistic vision. By 1943, however, the Japanese Empire “encompassed over one‐eighth of the earth’s surface.” 31 Tamura’s verse highlights the hollow value of this territorial dominance. It is clear from the entry that Tamura wonders whether the “dawning of Asia” really includes hard labour here on a remote battlefront of the “The Greater East‐Asian War” where there are only crocodiles and snakes to liberate and enlighten. Can this be the “dawning of Asia”? Two months later, however, on 13 June, as Allied air raids intensify and death seems to be imminent, Tamura finds comfort and meaning in the exalted language of wartime propaganda and gunka. Falling on the battlefield as loyal subjects of His Majesty, 28
Kawai Tetsuo, The Goal of Japanese Expansionism (Tokyo: The Hokuseidō Press, 1938). 109. 29
Earhart, Certain Victory. 262. 30
Ibid. 262. 31
Ibid. 270. 351
This is none other than a man’s true calling. We will be reborn seven times as the nation’s guardian demons And protect our Imperial territory. Accepting life’s misfortunes, We pray for the success in battle of our brother soldiers. Reaching the limits of life, Our souls are now about to vanish. Our spirits will remain forever in this place As the shields of our glorious country. We desire to press forward together 32
Until the establishment of Greater East Asia. Tamura’s faith in the glorious Imperial mission and the nobility of the pursuit of death seems stronger here and through the remainder of the diary than in the earlier parts. As 32
Tamura 123 陛下の臣として戦場に散る 男子の本懐之に過ぎず 七度護国の鬼と化して 皇城を守らん 生前の不幸を許せ 諸兄の武運を祈る 人生の限りを畫し精魂 今ぞ滅びんとす 我が魂は永久に此地に留まり 御国の盾とならん 願くば共に進まん大東亜 完遂まで 352
a more ferocious Allied assault sees the battlefront become increasingly dangerous, Tamura appears to feel compelled to prepare spiritually and emotionally for the likelihood of death. The Already Dead The spiritual training that exalted the benefits of dying in the Emperor’s name had prepared Tamura for death. As we noted in Chapter Two, the Hagakure was considered a primer for the military. 33 The passionate excerpt from the Hagakure quoted in the Introduction to this thesis exhorted soldiers not only to perform daily meditation on “inevitable death” but, even more dramatically, to consider themselves as already dead. 34 Early in the diary, Tamura recalls that “My hometown friend I left behind, urged just one thing: to die in silence.” 35 It is evident here that death as the ultimate sacrifice expected of a soldier as both a public and private act is always at the forefront of Tamura’s mind. Not only does the military expect death, even those close to Tamura 33
Morris, Ivan, The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan (London: Secker and Warnurg, 1975). 453. 34
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai. 164. 35
Tamura 8 はなれ来志祖国の友は唯一つ 黙々として死せと励ます 353
such as civilian friends encourage death as obedience to the kokutai. The issue of seken has been discussed previously. Theoretical accounts of this concept often present the idea as an abstract objective process or force situated within Japanese society. 36 However, the urgings of the hometown friend cited above demonstrate the highly personal aspect of the notion of seken and the manner in which, while the concept could refer to the wider society, it could also be interpreted as the close friend with whom one had an intimate and binding relationship and, hence, a strong sense of obligation. While one might be able to evade the demand of the anonymous voice, it was surely much more difficult to resist the appeal of family and friends. The verse further makes clear the demand for complete obedience. Death must come without protest, without the cry of pain that suggests cowardice and certainly without any sense of futility that questions the purpose or likely success of the Imperial project. The depth of this expectation of death from within even the closest circle of friends is demonstrated again in a passage describing Tamura’s final night spent with two friends before his departure for the front. One friend is a lodger at the home of a family that operates a funeral parlour, which presents Tamura with a further omen of his death. Both friends were “grieving over this last parting” and “both wanted me to 36
For a detailed account of the concept of seken see Lebra, "Self in Japanese Culture." 105 ‐ 121. 354
overnight at their houses.” When one goes to relieve himself, the other takes the chance to urge Tamura not to court death on his final night at home. “My mother is really worried about you too. It’s morbid spending the night in a funeral parlour. It’s like beckoning death for a soldier departing for the front, so you should come to my place.” 37 While the entry seems light‐hearted on the surface, with Tamura appearing to be merely recording the dilemma of deciding with whom he should spend his final night at home, the sombre shadow of death is evident in the writer’s cry of relief at the offer extended by Kojima. 37
Tamura 109 ‐110 無題 六月一日 『俺の家に来て宿んか』そんな馬鹿な もう俺の家にとまる事なんだから 親友二人は今宵最後の別れを 共に惜しんで二人共家にとめんと して呉れる 一人の友の小島君は実家であり 一人の友落合繁氏は間借り人 だけど友達としてその立入り浅きに 気が合うと言うか出征を心から 御苦労に思って呉れる 『小島君は 母もね心配しているんだ 陰気が悪い 葬儀屋に宿る なんて兵隊さんの出征には死を 招く様だと だから俺の所に来い」 落合君の小用に行きし後 言って呉れた 本当に有難い友と母さんだ 落合君は最後の別れになる 355
The notion of seken is further hinted at here with Tamura’s comment that Ochiai was “so appreciative of his going to war.” Ironically, Tamura declines his friend’s mother’s offer on the rational grounds of rejecting superstition. “Kojima, please thank your mother for me. I don’t believe in those kinds of omens. We only die once. As a soldier it will be a splendid soldier’s death.” 38 The entry concludes with the doomed man, Tamura, eating his fill of rice‐cakes “to celebrate my departure from my hometown.” 39 While Tamura might superficially reject death and rationally reject superstitious omen, the psychological disturbance caused by the oppressive omnipresence of death is evident in an entry that relates a recurring dream that torments the diary writer. Sometimes when I dream I feel really strange. In my dream, even though I am already at the battlefront, I am called up again and again. It’s alright until I am sent off by Misao 40 and others. Then it hits me! Hang on! I’m already a soldier! As soon as I realise it’s that kind of dream, I wake up. 38
Tamura 110 児島君 母さんに有難うと言ってくれ 俺はそんな縁起を何とも思わん 一度しか死ねぬ人生だ 兵隊でこそ 立派な戦死だと一人の方をことわる 39
Tamura 110 朝早く目覺めて故郷を発つに 際し餅を好きだけ食べ 40
Misao is Tamura’s sister. 356
It’s really a stupid, stupid dream. There is no news from home but Flowery April must now be dressed in new green leaves. 41 The trauma of being called‐up is painfully evident in the repetitive nature of the dream. The appearance of family members indicates his deep longing for the familiarity of home. Awareness of the irrationality of the dream in no way lessens Tamura’s desire for Japan or for contact with home. Poignantly, he consoles himself by recalling the flowers of verdant April in the archipelago. When Tamura recounts the dream to his comrades, they merely laugh. New Guinea, where the war dead dream of enlistment, My army comrades laugh at my strange dream. 42 41
Tamura 81 時々夢をみると變な気がする 戦地に居り乍ら再度の召集を 幾度も受ける 操達に送らる迄は良きが 気がつくがまてよ俺は今 兵隊だ そんな夢と思うと 眠りがさめる 本当の馬鹿馬鹿しい夢 故郷のたよりもありなく 花の四月青葉に呉れるだろう 42
Tamura 81 英霊の入営夢むニューギニア 夢はおかしく戦友に笑わる 357
There is an almost shamanist sense to the verse and to Tamura’s sense of being already one of the “the war dead.” The laughter of comrades, however, indicates that these men lack the instinctive knowledge that, like Tamura, they, too, are ‘living dead’ and that few will return to Japan alive. Self Motivating To Death In spite of the occasional expression of terror at the fate that awaits him, Tamura’s resolve to die a noble death is never in question. We noted how from the opening pages of the diary Tamura declared his commitment to the true path, which was “to die and sacrifice my life on behalf of the Empire.” 43 The act of writing motivational passages like this in the diary bears out of Aaron Moore’s assertion that soldiers used this medium as a means of self‐mobilization. Moore argues that through an analysis of the terminology most favoured by the writer, it is possible to ascertain which messages of the ideology were the most effective. 44 Memory and recollections continue to be key strategies of self‐motivation. In Chapter Four, we noted Tamura’s enthusiasm for the training he undertook in China on the way to the New Guinea battlefront. The conditions in China were bleak with soldiers 43
Tamura 13 44
Moore, "The Chimera of Privacy." 167. 死して皇国に殉ず 358
required to train in freezing conditions wearing only a light summer uniform. Nevertheless, Tamura is motivated by the memory of these gallant young soldiers when he writes The surprising zeal of the drafted soldiers Fills me with confidence. My joy at being born a subject of the empire Deepens as I put on my soldier’s uniform. No matter the harshness of the military drill or the cold, We are the children of the sea, the young men of Yamato! Never ceasing to protect the countless generations, The Yamato spirit, handed down from our forefathers. Sent to my friend in hospital ( 28 January ). 45 45
Tamura 9 應召の兵とも思はぬ元気さに 頼しき感しみじみ思う 帝国の民と生れし嬉びを 軍服を着て更に深くし 練兵の辛さ寒さも何のその 我は海の子大和男子ぞ 幾歳の守りゆるがしたゆまぬは 父祖より受けし大和魂 359
While the summer uniform itself gives no protection against the bitter continental winter, the act of clothing himself in the attire of those who undertake the Meiji constitutional duty of military service ennobles Tamura as a son of the Empire, 46 and mitigates the harsh reality of the seasonal conditions. Although the vicissitudes of weather and war are a feature of the poems, these are embedded within a framework of the kokutai lexicon and associated expressions such as yamato damashii (Japanese spirit), yamato danshi (son of Japan), teikoku no tami (subjects of the Empire) and umi no ko (children of the sea), expressions that also appear in countless gunka and other propaganda‐type cultural production. These and similar terms reveal Tamura’s pride and sense of involvement at being a member of a great nation with a civilizing mission beyond the distant seas. They position Tamura firmly as a figure in the long and feted history of modern Japan. 47 More poignantly, the spirit of yamato damashii displayed by Tamura is akin to Eric Dowling’s 入院の友を送りて（一月二十八日） 46
By the time Tamura left for New Guinea, the military uniform was part of the quotidian life of even the citizens of Japan. Earhart, Certain Victory. 139. 47
Hirata Atsutane 1776 – 1843), disciple of Motoori Norinaga defined yamato damashii as “the spirit of the original Japanese: in terms of the slogan “Revere the Emperor; expel the barbarian.” As cited in Kasulis, T P, Shintō: The Way Home. 129. 360
definition as “’bravery’, ‘humanity’, ‘innocence’, ‘patriotism’, ‘filial piety’, ‘purity’, ‘youth’, ‘sincerity’, ‘resignation’ and ‘death’.” 48 The association between this spirit and the “countless generations” of Japanese who have gone before once again foregrounds the uncanny manner in which the discourses of the kokutai integrate the politico/military sphere with the highly personal and emotive sphere of home, family and “forefathers.” In fact, by recalling his forefathers Tamura again returns to the “heimlich pleasures of the hearth,” 49 affording a temporary escape from the “unheimlich terror” 50 of an ignominious death in the backwoods of New Guinea. The passages cited above are recorded early in the diary, and are a testament to Tamura’s desire, from the beginning, to remain committed to his quest for a noble death. The Ocean as Facilitator to a Noble Death The very name of the war in which Tamura was now involved, the South Pacific War (minami taiheiyō sensō) part of the Greater East Asian War (daitōa sensō) 48
Dowling is commenting particularly on the student soldiers whose posthumous works were compiled into Kike Wadatsumi no Koe. Dowling, Eric, "The Beauty of Personal Sorrow in War: Kike Wadatsumi no Koe."in Japanese Cultural Nationalism. ed. Starrs, Roy (Folkstone, Kent: Global Oriental, 2004). 165‐66. 49
Bhabha, Homi, ed., Nation and Narration (London: Routledge, 1990). 2. 50
Ibid. 361
evokes images of an immense sea, and an immense task to match. 51 The beginning of this stage of the war was, of course, the attack on Pearl Harbour on 8 December, 1941. Furthermore, the expansionist policies of the military meant that a large proportion of the war that followed would involve the sea. One of the most popular films of the period was, in fact, Sea War (1942 Hawaii Marē Oki Kaisen ‐ lit. The War at Sea from Hawaii to Malay). 52 Japan, a country isolated and protected by the surrounding ocean, had now embarked on a mission to conquer not only the ocean but also countries that lay at the ocean’s extremities, such as New Guinea. A key section of the diary is an account of Tamura’s experience of the sea. Nature again is the focus in these sections. The natural barrier that segregated Japan from the Asian mainland was a column of water known as the Black Current (kuroshio), a reference to the dark blue of its very deep waters. The Black Current is a warm Pacific Ocean current flowing north‐east from Taiwan to Japan. More than 2000 years ago, the Chinese referred to the Black Current as We‐Lu, the “current to a world in the east from which no man has ever returned.” 53 Watsuji Tetsurō argued that the Japanese race was 51
The original term used was the Greater East Asian War (daitōasensō). 52
The full title was Sea War from Hawaii to Malaya produced by Tōhō in 1942. For a discussion of the film see High, Peter B, The Imperial Screen: Japanese Film Culture in the Fifteen Years' War (Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2003). 382‐3. 53
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science‐nature/Borne‐on‐a‐Black‐Current.html?c=y&page=2. 362
formed when a “southern race […] riding on the Black Current […] mixed with a northern race,” 54 assigning the Black Current a role in the development of the unique Yamato race. In the context of Japan’s Imperial project, the Black Current is significant as a symbolic boundary between the Empire, Japan, and those regions of Asia that Japan sought to conquer. Furthermore, its pulsing flow gives the seas around Japan, the centre of military might in Asia, the sense of being a living organism. Japan as a mighty nation is able to traverse the boundaries of the expansive ocean. 55 This is significant considering the “inward‐looking dynamics” 56 which had pervaded Japan until the coming of 54
Oguma Eiji, A Geneology of Japanese Self Images, ed. Yoshio Sugimoto, trans. David Askew, Japanese Society Series (Melbourne: Trans Pacific Press, 2002). 263. 55
Ham, Paul, Kokoda (Sydney: Harper Collins, 2005). 118. The Nankai Shitai Western 34th regiment’s battle song read: Oh Heavenly Japan, The Emperor’s power is clear We must build a new World Order Everlastingly, all nations under one Roof. While we have this weighty Mission, Even if in the waters, grass‐grown corpses soak, Let us go, Comrades, with hearts united – The Western 34th regiment. (original from) ATIS CT 9 p31. 56
Berque, Japan: Nature, Artifice and Japanese Culture. 51. 363
Commodore Perry. 57 Tamura is aware that the act of crossing this natural barrier leads to the far extremities of the Southern battlefield when he writes Across the Pacific, across the Black Current, From far away, a boat is coming with might and courage, With letters from our homeland. 58 The magnitude of Tamura’s sense of mission is also evident in this piece with the boat from the homeland endowed with the pride of the nation. Tamura’s desire to aid in the creation of the greater Japanese Empire in Asia is expressed most powerfully in the entries that record his journeys by sea and his encounter with the strength of the Black Current. Tormented in the disorientating surrounds of the New Guinea jungle by the prospect that he might be denied a noble death, Tamura recalls that he was heartened during his journey by the sight of the Black Current 59 in an entry entitled “At Sea, 7 February,” 57
Lu, David P, ed., Japan: A Documentary History. Volume 2 (Armonk: New York: M.E.Sharpe, 1996‐7). 281. 58
Tamura 20 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 太平洋の黒潮を きょう
今日ものりこえはるばると 強く勇まし船が来る 祖国の便りを乗せてくる 59
Ham, Kokoda. 118. Major General Horii, commander of the South Seas forces, expressed the same crossing of a metaphoric boundary when he wrote Vigorous youths of the Southern Seas, Who have been reared by the sea, The time to test your strength has come. 364
The throb of the Black Current, Now is our manly courage tested. Our ship is heading straight for the South, Guarded closely by the gallant men of the patrol ship. All around, a world of sea and clouds. 60 The current is even seen here by Tamura as a metaphor for the masculine strength that sustains the Empire. Writing now narrowly encircled by the dark, dank claustrophobia of the jungle, where the greatness of the Imperial purpose defies even the most vivid imagination, the memory of the ocean’s grandeur signified by the Black Current momentarily fills Tamura with exhilaration and a sense of positivity and strength The Black Current is alive with the life of the water, foaming white spray on a heavy swell. The Current really is alive, as if it will go on forward forever. 61
Its mighty pulse throbs like blood through the body. It is delightful to cleave a wake behind, Cleaving the black [current] Where are you Japan? Your light cannot be seen. 60
Tamura 10 海上にて 二月七日 躍る黒潮八重の潮路 男の度胸今ぞ試練の真中 船は今一路南を指して進む 子を守るが如く添う巡艦の ゆっとりとした勇姿たのもしき 見渡す限り海と雲の世界 365
For Tamura, this mighty life force, pulsing with the blood of warriors, is a powerful image of the might of Japan. Crossing the Black Current’s surge from the south signifies the Empire’s power even over this immense natural phenomenon. Tamura acknowledges the Black Current as a repository of the deep knowledge that inspires courage. He reflects In the end, what can I learn now from this Black Current? I must push forward, to the last gasp of the faith of my father and my siblings left at home. 62
No, of my own faith. The great life force of the current is, then, a source of faith for Tamura. This cognitive affiliation, nevertheless, has a concrete dimension, with the text almost immediately reverting to the physical with the exhortation to “push foward.” There is a visceral element in these words that suggests the bodies of the young men striving with all their 61
Tamura 11 この水の生命この黒潮に生ある如く 真白きしぶき大うねり 何處までも果しなきこの潮はさながら 生けるが如し たしかに生きている 脈あり血が通うが如く発刺として踊る Tamura 11 我は果して今この黒潮に何を学ばんとしているや故郷にのこせし父 子兄弟いや 自己の信念の徹せざる限り突進せんと 366
might to go forward against impossible odds under circumstances in which many will be ripped apart by the deadly technologies of war. Once again the notion of military valour in the face of inevitable destruction is intimately tied to memories of the homeland, parents and siblings for whom Tamura must strive. However, while the emotional connection to the family is paramount, ultimately the diarist understands that he is alone and that in the final instance he cannot be sustained by the good thoughts of his father or siblings, but only by his individual faith in the Imperial cause. With a growing awareness that the battlefront of New Guinea will be the ultimate test of his will, Tamura declares My faith must be even stronger than the memory of my last battle. What is learning? What is destiny? It is the power to reveal the fierce depths of my heart. It is the knowledge and wisdom that teaches me where I am and where I will go in this world of clouds and water, on this endless sea journey. On the battlefield lives the spirit. Certainly it is where we need the greatest strength of spirit. But can the military really fulfill this mission just with 63
strength of spirit? 63
Tamura 11 寸前迄戦って来た記憶の中に 更に力強き信念を得んとして 学問が何だ 運命が何だ ともすれば 荒ぶ心の奥に大いなる瞳をひらかせて 呉れる人の力だ幾昼夜の果てなきこの 367
For Tamura, the “power” that is able to “reveal the fierce depth” of the heart lies in four elements of his life. The first of these is learning, which might be a reference to the Imperial Army training he has undergone, or it might embrace all the experiences of his life. Nevertheless, it is that which he has learnt as a diligent subject of the Emperor. The second element is fate or destiny. In spite of all his learning, the Imperial Army soldier has little control over these circumstances. That control lies with the senior command whose sole interest is the extent to which enlisted fulfil their obligation to die selflessly in the Emperor’s “holy” war (seisen). The third element is “strength of will” or a “superior spirit,” on which even in the face of a lack of essential items such as food and equipment, the Imperial Japanese Army relied heavily for soldiers to overcome all odds when fulfilling the obligation to fight to the death. 64 Faith, however, is the fourth and ultimate element in the quest for courage in the face of death. Having yielded to the training of the Imperial Army’s regime in these matters, Tamura does his best throughout the text to bolster his spirit. 船旅に雲と水のこの世界に現在地も 行く先もはっきり教えて呉れるのがこの智だ人の学問だ 戦場は意気だ 確かに精神力に追ふ所大なりと言えども 唯軍はこの力のみに於いて果たして この重大なる任務が遂行出来るか 否や 64
Drea argues that “military training capitalized on existing Japanese traditions, customs, and mores to mold a fighting man whose highest duty was to die for his Emperor.” Drea, Edward, In the Service of the Emperor. 76. 368
But his faith must not rely on the success or failure of battle, which simply saps the spirit of the warrior, but “must be even stronger than my memory of the last battle.” 65 Only faith can confront the reality of death and destruction. Here in the mire of New Guinea, in order for the spirit to triumph, faith will need to be supreme. 66 Tamura ends the section on the Black Current with a proud, idealistic declaration. 67 Now seeing the Black Current right before my eyes, My heart is refreshed. I feel I have found the true manly way. I will sacrifice my life for the Empire. 68 However oppressive the atmosphere of Tamura’s current situation, he cannot help returning to the majesty of the ocean in an attempt to embolden himself. The following declaration, too, finally makes clear that Tamura knows that the sacrifice of his life for 65
Drea argues that it was the inculcation of the belief in “death before dishonour” which instilled tenacity of soldiers. Ibid. 66
Dower argues that in fact the military machine was “relentlessly forging, constantly hammering out, the most formidable weapon of all: the obedient , fanatical Japanese soldier.” Dower, John, War Without Mercy. 22. 67
Kellert, Stephen, "Japanese Perceptions of Wildlife," Conservation Biology 5, no. 3 (1991). Kellert claims that Japanese enjoyment of nature was confined, controlled and highly idealized. 302. 68
Tamura 13 今この黒潮を目の当りみて男の 意気男子として本当の道を 発見した様に清清しい心だ 死して皇国に殉ず 369
the Empire is real, not just an idealistic dream. The passage also reveals the connection in Tamura’s consciousness between this reality and the sea. As I say farewell to my twenty odd years of life And leave for the front I pray to be granted a place to die Cloud and more clouds, sea and never‐ending sea 69
The vast ocean will become my burial ground. Tamura understands that there is no turning back. The wide open sea is his destiny, and the Black Current instils in him the courage to go on to his death. The nobility and sheer magnitude of the ocean leads Tamura to yearn for a death at sea. The poignancy is that although all he asks is that he be granted a noble soldier’s death, his end is likely to come in ignominy. In the verse above, the enormity of nature – clouds, never‐ending sea and vast ocean – once more presents as the only metaphor that can encompass the task ahead, a task for which the only likely reward will be the necessity to “farewell” the writer’s “twenty odd years of life.” 69
Tamura 13 今二十有余年の人生に別れを 遂げんとして征途に就く 願わくば死所を得させよ 雲又雲 海又海のはてしなき 大海原は我が墓所なり 370
Tamura’s writing on the Black Current is replete with vocabulary and expressions from gunka and other popular material circulated to exhort the subjects of Japan to a state of war. Over the great ocean where the Black Current seems alive I go as a brave warrior to defend my homeland. The sky and sea meld together, no horizon. 70
I am a child of the sea who wakes and sleeps on the waves. While envisioning himself in standard bushido terms as a “brave warrior” defending “the homeland,” 71 terms which occur in most gunka, Tamura concludes the verse by citing a line from the popular wartime song Ware wa umi no ko. 72 The lyrics of the song are 70
Tamura 13 黒潮の生けるが如き大洋に 祖国を守るもののふぞ征く 天地唯重畳として境なく 波に起き伏す我は海の子 71
Earhart, Certain Victory.Earhart argues that by 1940 “military service was more than just a rite of passage; it was nearly a prescribed way of life for able‐bodied men [...] their ‘fighting spirit’ burned just as brightly at decade’s end, but its light was no longer merely the mark of Japanese manhood, it was the badge of honour of the ‘noble warrior’ engaged in a ‘holy war’.” 103. 72
Osada Gyōji, Nihon Gunka Zenshū. 466, verses 1–3 of 7. 我は海の子 白波の さわぐいそべの松原に 煙たなびくとまやこそ 我がなつかしき住家なり 生まれて潮にゆあみして 波を子守の歌と聞き 371
typical of Japanese wartime songs in their glorification of the uniqueness of the Japanese identification with nature and the love of the homeland. Characteristically, the piece valorises the Spartan rural pre‐modern lifestyle, deeply rooted in nature, as the preference of the Imperial patriot. Ienaga Saburō comments that this song was tampered with by the military, who added another verse. Let’s go. Aboard the ships and away. We’ll gather the treasure of the sea. 73
Let’s go! Aboard the battleship. We’ll defend this nation at sea 千里寄せくる海の気を 吸ひてわらべとなりにけり 高く鼻つくいその香りに 不断の花かおりあり なぎさの松に吹く風を いみじき楽と我は聞く I am a child of the sea, raised in a rush‐roofed hut In a pine grove, along the seashore, with the sound of waves. A thin trail of smoke rising, drifting in the air. That's the dear old home of mine, where I always belong. Soon after I was born I was bathed in the sea. In the sound of lapping waves I hear sweet lullabies. Breathing in the fresh air of waves coming from afar, I grew up to be a boy, healthy and strong. In the strong scent of the sea I can smell something good, As good as the ever‐lasting fragrance of flowers. Hearing the wind blow against the pine trees on the shore, It sounds like the rousing strains of music and song. translated by Yamagishi Katsuei, http://jiten.cside3.jp/Warewa%20Uminoko.html 73
Ienaga Saburō, The Pacific War 1931‐1945 (New York: Random House, 1978). 27. 372
The appended verse links the unique Japanese love of the sea and of nature directly with the expansionist plans of the Japanese Empire and exhorts its subjects to join with the grand ocean for the nation’s just cause. The idea of being umi no tami or umi no ko, and riding the majesty of the ocean is associated with spreading the idealised spirit of Japan throughout Asia. 74 Tamura’s declaration of himself as a child of the sea aligns him with the ocean crossings undertaken by those Japanese that initiated and now sustain Japan’s Imperial push over the boundaries of the ocean. That is, his recognition of himself as a child of the sea equates in fact to being a child of the vast and glorious empire of Japan. For Tamura, crossing the Black Current carries him forward as a noble warrior of Japan. It takes the writer from the realm of life to death. However, Tamura’s seeing himself as a child of the sea, of the infinite and revered ocean, enables him to romanticize his fate and thereby come to terms with its inevitability. 75 His conviction is 74
Earhart records photographs from PWR of 3rd January 1940 under the title New Year’s Day and a Day of Public Service for the Development of Asia. New Year’s gifts included war bonds. Earhart, Certain Victory. 136‐7. 75
The popular gunka, Taiheiyō Kōshinkyoku (Pacific March, 1939) also lauded the might of the Black Current: All sea people Have had the longing once To navigate in high spirits On the Black Current of the Pacific Now the day has come, 373
strengthened by the almost divine status he gives the Black Current when he writes that it urges him on in his great cause. When I hear the voice of the current urging me “Conquer! Conquer!” I suddenly see the victory of the land of the gods. 76 The Black Current reveals to Tamura the divine nature of his mission as a warrior of Japan, the land of the gods. This spurs the diarist on further to define his fate in metaphysical terms. If only the gods would show me the path I must take. I wouldn’t mind leaving my life and death to heaven. 77 Reflecting the same sentiments as are encapsulated in Umi Yukaba, the lyricism and rhythm of Tamura’s verse echo and evoke many other songs, poems, pieces of prose and films of the time that laud the military prowess of the land of the gods, Japan. Here however, there is also a slippage in the text that reveals Tamura’s half‐doubt of the Our blood boils with joy See Sugita Satoshi, ""Cherry Blossoms and Rising Sun: A Systematic and Objective Analysis of Gunka (Japanese War Songs)"," Ohio State University, http://etd.ohiolink.edu/send‐
pdf.cgi/Sugita%20Satoshi.pdf?osu1170788993 76
Tamura 14 征け征けとはげます潮の聲きけば 我が神洲の勝どきと見る 77
Tamura 14 神は唯我が行く道をしめさばや 生死は天の知るよしもがな
374
rhetoric. Leaving his life and death to heaven would be an acceptable option to Tamura, if only heaven would “show me the path I must take.” There is a suggestion here of confusion, of being let down, in spite of the fact, as already noted, that this never translates into a direct questioning of the official position. Empowered as he is by the natural phenomena associated with Japan, Tamura calls upon the bushidō inspired lexicon of the kokutai to remain motivated towards acceptance of his fate. Motifs of Death By drawing on the well‐known and revered parts of history, soldiers were brought together through the “retailing” of a shared past. 78 This shared past revealed motifs which made futile deaths noble. As we examined in Chapter Two, the narrative of death fundamental to the kokutai discourse was strongly influenced by bushidō’s reimagining of the past. The greatest preparation for death occurred during a soldier’s spiritual training, and, although never using the term bushidō, Tamura’s work is infused with the reinvented ethics of the samurai code. In a highly challenging environment and within a totally alien landscape, Tamura needs these kokutai expressions to create a sense of home and belonging, and 78
Smith, Anthony D, The Ethnic Origin of Nations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd, 1988). 191. 375
to ennoble and render meaningful what would otherwise seem to be without purpose. 79 Recalling his departure for the front, Tamura writes of the young sakura (cherry blossoms) who will “go off to die [and] will bloom and fall as a shield for the homeland.” 80 These words express the writer’s pride at the nobility of his purpose. In spite of his wretched circumstances and the prospect of an ignoble death, Tamura adopts his characteristic tone of self‐sacrifice and commits to his role as protector of the Empire. The concept of the Emperor’s shield is an important element in the reinvented tradition of the military. The term appears to have originated in the Nihon Shōki (720) with the warrior, Yorozu, who, when his chieftain, Monobe no Moriya, (d. 587) had fallen, emerged dirty and tattered, and prostrating himself on the ground, called out, “The Emperor’s shield, 81 a man whose courage would be devoted to defending his majesty – that is all I wished to be.” 82 Ironically, Yorozu was a tragic hero who took his own life after failure in battle. 83 79
Smith argues the concept of belonging as intrinsic within the nation structure. Ibid. 191. 80
Tamura 32 明日は散り行く若櫻 祖国の楯と咲いて散る 81
Morris, The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan. 25. 82
Ibid. 21. 83
Ibid. 376
Unlike a number of other kokutai motifs, the notion of the Emperor’s shield is a useful one in that it permits the warrior to personalise his relationship with the nation’s leader – a living god, no less. 84 The idea of the specific body of an individual Imperial Army soldier being used to personally protect a living, breathing Emperor is a much more powerful motivating force than being required to fight for abstract notions such as the nation state. In the extract above from Tamura’s diary, it is clear that the writer does not regard himself as one of a number of faceless Imperial Army soldiers, but as a warrior whose intimate relationship with the leader permits him to act as the living god’s shield. Tamura combines the metaphor of the Emperor’s shield with that of the cherry blossom. As noted in Chapter Two, the cherry blossom was a very powerful motif of Japan’s unique nature deployed during the war, and more significantly, a metaphor for young soldiers going off to die. In fact, the cherry blossom held a prominent place throughout the emergence of Japanese Imperialism. National learning scholar, Motoori Norinaga (1730 – 1801), identified the beauty of the cherry blossom with the beauty of the Japanese soul. 84
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 179. Ohnuki‐Tierney records that the term “shiko no mitate” was recorded in The Manyōshū (after 759) as a term used by border guards to describe themselves as “’ugly shields’ to protect them Emperor.” 377
Isles of blest Japan Should your yamato spirit Strangers seek to scan Say‐scenting morn’s sunlit air Blow the cherry wild and fair. 85 Ohnuki‐Tierney cites this verse as a portrayal of “a cheerful and sunny picture of cherry blossoms, and thus of the Japanese soul.” 86 However, she further argues that successive governments from Meiji had “aestheticized their military operations and the deaths of soldiers visually and conceptually.” 87 The pinnacle of this process saw the cherry blossom become “the master trope of Japan’s Imperial nationalism.” 88 This image of the cherry blossom was a powerful motivator for soldiers. One recorded that he would “like to return and flower as the cherry blossom at Yasukuni shrine.” 89 For soldiers like Tamura, the inevitability of death in its most horrendous form is softened by the image of cherry blossoms. Prized for its ephemeral nature, the cherry blossom is beautiful, and like the young soldiers, short lived. It can be appreciated only 85
Translated by Nitobe Inazō as cited in Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms and Nationalisms. 128. 86
Ibid. 128. 87
Ibid. 122. 88
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 27. 89
AWM Information Bulletin No 14 (276.8) 378
briefly, but will always provide an enduring memory that returns annually when the blossoms are in full glory. Thus, the cherry blossom became the embodiment of yamato damashii, 90 and its aesthetic definition. Like the blossoms, soldiers’ lives also ended whilst they were in their prime. For the young soldiers though, there would be no promise of return in the flesh, only in the memory of that short‐lived exquisiteness. 91 In Tamura’s poem discussed above, the stark realisation that he is doomed to die yet again becomes manageable by recourse to images of young sakura who will bloom specifically in order to “fall as a shield for the homeland.” In one sense, the poem is a valorisation of the vitality of youth, an almost homoerotic discourse of young men’s virile bodies dedicated to death. The image of cherry blossom as fallen soldiers features throughout Tamura’s diary. However, frequently his attempts to 90
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 28. 91
This aspect of the cherry blossom became all the more powerful towards the end of the war when it was used as the symbol of the Special Attack Forces. Their theme song was as follows: At the same time in the same Air Force garden. When we come into blossom, we are resolved to scatter (like petals in the breeze). Let’s scatter splendidly for the sake of our country. You and I are cherry blossoms flowering At the same time in the same Air Force garden. We are not brothers, but for some reason We cannot forget each other. Cited in Standish, Myth and Masculinity in the Japanese Cinema: Towards a Political Reading of the Tragic Hero. 68. Ohnuki‐Tierney notes that “a single cherry blossom was painted in pink on a white background on both sides of the tokkōtai airplane, while various Japanese terms for cherry blossoms were used in the names of the special attack forces.” Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 29. 379
remain committed to his fate fail to conceal a sense of both deep regret and despair. Tamura recalls his train journey through the bleak landscape of Korea, where the starkness of his surrounds is heightened by the chilling reflections in the cold train window of conscripts and enlisted men travelling to their deaths. The reflections in the windows of our train are cold Oblivious that it’s the parting of flowers who go to be scattered. 92 This verse is followed by an account of the journey from the Korean border through Manchuria to Mukden on the Japanese operated Manchurian railway system. Featuring the fastest train on earth at the time, a product of superior Japanese technical and administrative know‐how, this railway was the pride of the Japanese Empire. 93 Both sides of the train‐line were flanked by industrialised cities and ports that by their very existence announced Japanese civil and economic dominance in the Chinese North‐East. However, Tamura’s recollections make no reference to this aspect of the journey. Rather, in keeping with his inward focus on the presence of death, he creates an eerie otherworld of ghostly spirits on an irreversible journey to another world. Although he 92
Tamura 34 征く我に車窓の影は肌寒し 散り行く花の別れも知らずに 93
Young states that the railroad in Manchukuo “represented an engine of civilization and progress.” Young, Louise, Japan's Total Empire. 246. 380
uses the image of scattered flowers there is no sense of glory. Death is exposed as a place of no return. Fujii Tadatoshi argued that the thought of making a positive contribution to the war effort was a major factor in motivating soldiers to go to war. 94 Fujii further noted that the pinnacle of this commitment was a determination to die on behalf of the Emperor and the country. Ultimately, this commitment took on a metaphysical aspect: it was the eternal truth of the noble cause of eternal loyalty (yūkyū no taigi). 95 Tamura, as we have seen, was committed – even devoted – to these ideals. He overcame the environmental challenges present in the New Guinea landscape in order to remain loyal to the Imperial cause. However, other aspects of his life in New Guinea, aspects associated with the farcical nature of the New Guinea campaign, the inequities of the military system, the tedium and the terror of life in a war‐zone, the death of his comrades and his own desire for an individual self, also destabilise his capacity to continue on the loyal path of servant to the Emperor. The next chapter will examine the diarist’s 94
resolution of these challenges.
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 275. The basis of this ultimate truth is that it is an integral part of filial piety. The Senjinkun had stated in Part Seven, entitled “The Viewpoint of Life and Death,” that “you should be happy with the idea of yūkyū no taigi.” Yuki Tanaka also uses this translation http://armybase.us/forum/ancient‐military‐history/japan's‐kamikaze‐pilots‐and‐contemporary‐suicide‐
bombers/ 95
Ibid. 381
Chapter Seven Challenges to a Resolve to Die Introduction As we have seen in the previous chapter, Tamura Yoshikazu draws strength from the bushidō‐inspired iconography of the kokutai together with Japan’s unique natural features in order to remain committed to the pathway of a noble death. This chapter will examine the factors which threaten Tamura’s resolve to die for the Emperor and the Imperial cause. The overarching expectation that soldiers would relinquish any sense of a personal self is a pivotal point in ensuring the adherence of Imperial Army troops to Japan’s Imperialist aims. In light of the requirement for a non‐
self, we will examine how Tamura’s commitment to Japan’s expansionist ethic and his involvement in the emancipation of the people of Asia is undermined by the primitive nature of the indigenous inhabitants of New Guinea. This chapter will further demonstrate that Tamura rails against his lowly role in the military hierarchy. Nevertheless, although keenly aware of serious flaws in the operation of the system to which he finds himself subject, he attributes them to the inadequacies of individuals, particularly his senior officers who purport to uphold military rules and regulations. His faith rarely wavers in the military system valorised by the kokutai. Tamura’s 382
commitment to a noble death is also threatened by both the tedious nature of his role building airstrips in New Guinea and the terror associated with the less‐than‐glorious deaths of comrades. Finally, we will examine how the diary writer’s dissatisfaction with aspects of his own personal life imperils his ability to accept death as the ultimate achievement of a loyal subject of Imperial Japan. Relinquishing a Sense of Self ‐ Jibun ga Nai The kokutai discourse, like Foucault’s concept of a disciplined society, 1 sought to suppress individual thought and promote the idea of a non‐self. Sigmund Freud (1856 ‐1939) denied that man can be influenced to become like termites, asserting that the individual always claims individual freedom “against the will of the group.” 2 Yet, the overwhelming impression of the Japanese soldier is of an individual who has indeed relinquished all claims to personal freedom, and who has, in fact, taken on the role of the ant‐like termite. Social commentator, Phillip Adams, wrote that “we’re all idiots […] It’s our behaviour as mass [that is concerning]. As individuals we are merely silly. But multiply 1
Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. trans. Sheridan, Alan (London & New York: Penguin, 1991). 217. 2
Freud, Sigmund, Civilization and Its Discontents (New York: W.W. Norton & Company Inc, 1961). 43. 383
that silliness through large crowds, moral panics, mass media and marching to patriotic music and we’re not merely eccentric but positively alarming.” 3 Henri Tajfel concurred that “in certain situations involving high group salience, it is possible for an individual to act purely in terms of his social identity.” 4 We have noted that the spiritual training imposed on Japanese soldiers required them to identify with the unique nature of Japan, that is, with yamato damashii, a powerful discursive force that constructed Japan as unique and superior to all other cultures. The emphasis in discussion of yamato damashii on relinquishing a sense of self was outlined succinctly in Hibino Yutaka’s Nippon Shindo Ron (1928, The National Ideals of the Japanese People), a document that called on subjects of Imperial Japan to “fulfil our obligations to the Emperor and to devote ourselves to loyal service.” To Hibino, these “beautiful ideals of our people” were the core of yamato damashii. He continued by declaring this spirit of loyal service to the Emperor was “a spirit which refuses to yield under severest trials or even to death itself.” Furthermore [It] is the innate possession of every Japanese citizen without distinction of rank or station. It is equally the possession of samurai, farmer, artisan, and 3
Adams, Phillip, "Australian Weekend Magazine" Australian Newspaper, 19 February, 2008. 4
Tajfel, Henri, Differentiation Between Social Groups (London, New York and San Francisco: Academic Press, 1978). 42. 384
merchant. Possessed of this yamato‐damashii they all serve the Empire to the limit of their treasure and their strength, without one self‐ward thought. 5 Thus not only did yamato damashii demand a concrete expression of devotion through self‐sacrifice and a relinquishment of the individual self in the name of the Emperor, it was the foundation of the communal consciousness of all loyal Japanese creating a bond between subjects of Imperial Japan from all walks of life. As outlined in Chapter Two, the valorisation of this unique Japanese spirit led to a claim that, as much as military strategy, it was the superior spirit of the great nation of Japan that would lead to victory in combat. This led to irrational demands made on enlisted men required to engage in combat or support labour in the absence of adequate food, shelter and other essential resources. To question this situation was tantamount to treason. One prisoner of war stated that “Japan restricts people too much […] She rules her people by fear, taught from childhood […]. Japan expects the Yamato spirit and Type 38 rifles to overwhelm 500kg of bombs from B24s.” 6 (As a prisoner of war, the interviewee was able to be candid in his criticism of the regime.) The Emperor reportedly stated in an address to the military that “a soldier who lacks the 5
Hibino Yutaka, Nippon Shindo Ron, trans. A.P. McKenzie (London: Cambridge University Press, 1928). 160. 6
AWM ATIS 1958 Brief of Interrogation Report 610A Serial 746. Propaganda letter voluntarily written by PWJA(USA) 100275. 385
unshakable will to fulfil all his obligations to his country must be considered a good‐for‐
nothing.”7 The militarisation of yamato damashii created a dualism for soldiers. It meant that the individual sense of self (nikutai or bodily self) was expected to be displaced by the state sanctioned (kokutai) non‐self. 8 For the period of Japan’s involvement in the war, “the individual body’s needs and desires had been denigrated, always to be subsumed to the needs of the national body.” 9 Whether followed voluntarily or reluctantly, or under complete coercion, the public face of this “unshakable will” was the commitment on the part of the soldiers to following the philosophy of their leaders. 10 Superficially, most soldiers appeared to submit. Of course the option of openly affirming one’s right to individual thought processes was not available in Imperial Japan. 11 The totalitarian nature of the regime at the time of Japan’s 7
Nagatsuka Ryūji, I Was a Kamikaze: the Knights of the Divine Wind (London: Abelard‐Schuman, 1972). 28. 8
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 92. Tsurumi notes that this process resulted in “no‐
one [having] an opportunity to make a decision which he could consciously recognise as his own.” 9
Slaymaker, Douglas, "When Sartre was an Erotic Writer: Body, Nation, and Existentialism in Japan after the Asia‐Pacific War," Japan Forum 14, no. 1 (2002). 77. 10
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 97. Tsurumi argues that the aim of military socialization “was the internalization of compulsion to such an extent that [soldiers] would feel that they were acting on their own volition while in fact they acted under coercion.” 11
Shillony, Politics and Culture in Wartime Japan. 12. Shillony writes that “at the Imperial Conference of 1 December 1941, [...] Tōjō, in his capacity as Home Minister declared: ‘We have strengthened our control over those who are anti‐war and anti‐military [...] and those who we fear may be a threat to the public 386
entry into the Pacific War ensured that there would be almost no dissenting voices to challenge the official line. 12 Committed though he was to the official position, in the extremes of the war‐zone Tamura must delve deeply into the teachings of the kokutai in order to resist the pull of his individual emotions. His aims are quite clear when he writes However much it is said that we humans are emotional creatures, I cannot believe that being ruled by your personal individual emotions makes for true loyalty. On this battlefield, where a soldier has pledged life and death, leaving hometown far behind, knowing the true principles of the army, his devotion should overcome his inner anxiety. Stripped of his birth place, he should have all the more strength of character, I think. 13 order. We believe that in some cases we might have to subject some of them to preventative arrest.’” Shillony reports that “from the first round‐ups [...] in 1928 until the outbreak of the Pacific War in 1941, about 74,000 persons were arrested on charges of violating the Peace Preservation Law. During the Pacific War, about 2,000 more people were arrested on these charges.” 12
One critic was Saitō Takao (1870 ‐1949), a politician who criticised Japan’s “Holy War” in China. For an excellent account see Kinmonth, Earl H, "The Mouse the Roared: Saitō Takao, Conservative Critic of Japan's ‘Holy War’ in China," Journal of Japanese Studies 25, no. 2 (1999). 13
Tamura 113 – 114 如何に感情の動物とは言え 個人の感情に於て左右する如き 果たして忠なりやとうたがわざるを え
得ぬなり 故郷を遠くはなれて生死を共に 誓う戦場に於ておや 軍の本義を知るが故に黙々として 動ずるも心服は及ざるべき 387
The verse demonstrates a desperate attempt by the diary writer to self motivate in the face of overwhelming odds. There is pathos in his idea that the absence of familiar bonds builds the character of the unfortunate enlisted men isolated in this way. 14 Tamura strives to follow the teachings of the kokutai by complying with the expectation that, devoid of homeland, family and friends, his own sense of self must be subordinate to the true principles of the army. As long as I do not bring shame to the Imperial Way I can remain tranquil. I pray for more resolve. 15 Tamura’s devotion to the Imperial Way firmly underscores his commitment to fight on in New Guinea, not just as a mere soldier, but as a soldier who is intent on adhering to the discursive framework that defines pre‐war Japan. 16 This one sentence proves unequivocally that, above all, Tamura believes in the system. 一旦地をはぎたる時彼の人格更に 有るべき我は今考するに 14
Other soldiers also expressed their desire to do whatever was humanly possible to achieve the army’s goals despite the emotionally debilitating effects of the senior officers’ behaviour. For example Second Lieutenant Ohara wrote “Do not call us all idlers, but act with more confidence in us. We will then make much more progress. The words of our senior officer can have such a negative result. ‘Human beings are creatures of feeling.’” AWM ATIS 78, Bull. Notes, Item 11, Ohara Diary p 64C. 15
Tamura 114 皇道に恥ぢざれば断じて 心安なり 16
The continued commitment to the ‘national virtues’ was emphasised in speeches on the battlefield. One such speech was a moral lecture in March 1942 by First Lieutenant Horiguchi Tsugio which stated 388
Even though Tamura is often overcome by longing and grief, he accepts unreservedly here that on joining the army “his devotion should overcome his inner anxiety.” Devoid of all else that is familiar to him, the kokutai remains as Tamura’s anchor. It exists for him because, like the existence of Zižek’s “Thing,” it is validated and valorised precisely because he believes implicitly in it. 17 We have seen that throughout his diary, Tamura recognises his own worth as one of the unique sons of Yamato; he places himself within that chosen group which is formed around the mythological belief in the special characteristics of being Japanese. The nurture this belief gives him aids him in his daily existence by ensuring, to borrow Zižek’s words, he knows “that I’m not alone, that I’m a member of a community of believers.” 18 In spite of his willingness to comply with the teachings of the kokutai, Tamura does experience despondency and disappointment, and even sometimes anger. In the remainder of the chapter, we will consider some of the factors that generated that “Loyalty is the basis of our country’s moral principles; the progenitor of our national virtues.” The speech continued to exhort that “deep loyalty and earnest filial piety go hand in hand […] filial piety is the foundation of the essential beauty of our national character. Our soldiers must march courageously along this great pathway of spirit.” AWM ATIS EP 80, p 4 17
Zižek, Slavoj, Tarrying with the Negative: Kant, Hegel, and the Critique of Ideology (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993). 202 “The national Thing exists as long as the members of the community believe in it; it is literally an effect of this belief in itself.” 18
Ibid. 389
these destabilising feelings and how the diarist works to suppress any sense of self to deal with these. The Useless Rhetoric of the Emancipation of Asia As outlined in Chapter Six, one of the motivators for Tamura was the prospect of involvement in a holy and just war which would result in the emancipation of Asia. However, while the “dawning of Asia” seemed possible in his campaign in China, in the remote environs of New Guinea, the indigenous people were rarely encountered, as evidenced in the following poem Two cucumbers ripened, The jungle inhabitants unaware, their hut empty. 19 In the oppressive desolation of the tropical jungle, there is no human presence to justify Tamura’s commitment to the greater cause of Asian liberation. New Guinea was never considered to be a prize in terms of either human or physical resources, as 19
Tamura 44 ジャングルの住み人知らず 青瓜の二つ実りて あぼらや空し 390
demonstrated here by the miserable sight of two abandoned cucumbers. 20 Pages of newspapers and magazines in Japan were adorned with images of the emancipated peoples of Asia now under the benevolent rule of the great nation of Japan. 21 However, for Tamura, the encounter with New Guinea’s indigenous inhabitants suggested that, in their primitive state, the “natives” of the tropics would fail to see the benefits of Japan’s civilising mission, let alone make a worthwhile contribution to the Greater East Asian Co‐prosperity Sphere. 22 Tamura’s accounts of his meetings with locals record his fascination with these manifestations of the primitive “Other” “Natives” When I saw real naked natives for the first time, I felt frightened. But they did not do any harm. They were very well hung, and proudly decorated their hair with bird feathers. It was a surprise for me to see the way they showed off their decoration. 20
Ham, Paul, Kokoda. 18. The main aim was to cut the air and shipping lanes between Australia and the United States of America. 21
Earhart, Certain Victory. 271. Magazines of the period were replete with photographs of soldiers assisting in the education and enlightenment of indigenous inhabitants of conquered territories. PWR – People’s Weekly Report (Shashin Shūhō) 249 on 2 December, 1942 records a captioned photograph that reads “Mr Soldier Gently Takes Us By the Hand and Teaches Us.” The PWR was issued by the CIB (Cabinet Information Bureau), which “coordinated and monitored all information during the war.” Ibid. 3 22
Ibid. 262. Earhart argues that the Co‐prosperity Sphere was contingent on the very “‘Asianness’ of its inhabitants.” 391
When we reached our destination in the late afternoon, we rested by the regimental barracks. There came forty to fifty natives, all of whom were naked. Some were carrying thick ropes and bush knives. A few were wearing crosses on their chests. Furthermore, about half of them were completely naked. 23 While there is clearly a slightly puritanical discomfort at the lack of attire worn by the group, there is also a keen eye that records key details of the implements and decorations of the local people. This eye for detail was mutual. Veteran soldiers of the New Guinea campaign tell Tamura that “the natives came to have a look at us,” noting also that the “natives” thought the soldiers “looked very weird.” 24 23
Tamura 95 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 土人 五月四日 本当に裸の土人をみた時おやと 思った何もせず 大きいのをふらふらして頭に鶏の 羽をさして意気揚々たり これ見よとばかりの風には驚く 目的地に着いた夕方守備隊の 兵舎に体を休めていると裸で来た 大きな網又藩刀の様なのをもち 二三人は十字架を胸に下げて 然もその半分が丸はだか 24
Tamura 95 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 前に居た隊に聞いたら 兵隊を見に来たのだと言う 土人と比したら兵隊も変だから 392
Significantly for Tamura, in terms of the purpose of his mission, there appears to be little prospect of emancipating a group of people whose lifestyle is so remote from his own. This is in spite of the fact that, as is clear from the diary writer’s observation, better presents and goods were given “to the officers.” 25 This was the result of the savvy locals having quickly determined the meaning of the Imperial Japanese Army ranking system. Ultimately, the men in Tamura’s unit assess the local people as friendly, and, moreover, as unafraid of the Japanese. I asked for bananas in the mountains. They seemed to be saying that they did not have bananas at the moment. I felt I understood their language a little bit. Compared with Chinese people, the native children did not have any traces of gloominess and looked so innocent, as if they were blessed by God. They seemed to regard the soldiers as a peculiar group. They were not frightened and did not cry although we were still new to them. 26 25
26
Tamura 96 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 兵隊より将校に品物を呉れ Tamura 96 (translated by Keiko Tamura) バナナを求めたら山の中にはある 然し現在はないと言う様だった 言葉をもう少し分かる様になりたい 子供達も支那人に比したら 明るい 陰気の点が少しもなく 神の子の様に純情だ 兵隊には或る一種に見られるのか 恐がりもせぬが余り日がないため 393
We recall Tamura’s idealized memories of China described in Chapter Four. Nevertheless, the comment above regarding the “gloominess” of the Chinese people indicates some awareness, perhaps only at the subconscious level, of the pall that covered the Japanese project on the Asian mainland as a result of Imperial Japanese Army atrocities. In spite of their uncivilized and “uncivilizable” nature that makes effort on their behalf appear useless, Tamura seems, nonetheless, to feel some respect for these people who are able to survive in this wretched land. The natives are not only gentle and innocent, they are also described as possessing goods and amenities that the soldiers covet. Given the dire resource shortage faced by the Imperial Japanese Army in New Guinea, it is hardly surprising that the men craved the humble sweet potatoes and pumpkins grown in jungle villages and, as noted in Chapter Three, even longed for the insulated shelter of the local indigenous people as torrents of rain washed through the flimsy military issue tents. Eventually Tamura concludes that this is an outpost where only the locals can survive. The nostalgia of his previous continental service exerts its なつかない 394
considerable pull as “[gazing] at the sky visible through the eaves” of “houses built by natives,” he longs “for the North China sky.” 27 The Tedium, the Terror and the Lowly Role Tamura’s despondence is exacerbated by the physical reality of his mundane and humble role. The surreal nature of the diary writer’s world is marked by tedium, made even more unendurable by the fact that, because of his lowly rank, no recognition is given to the enormous effort he makes on the Emperor’s behalf. Today we again pull the luggage carts, weaving our way through the coconut groves. So, these are military operations! I just can’t help constantly feeling: what a strange employment! 28 While refraining from overtly complaining about his task, Tamura’s words convey the disillusionment of a soldier whose labour should be paving the way for the 27
Tamura 100 土人の造ったこの家に 軒からみえる大空を ながめて今日も一人事 北支の空がなつかしい 28
Tamura 17 今日も又椰子の木の間を縫って 荷車を引く これが作戦だ 思いつつ変な使役の感禁じ 得ざるべからず 395
enlightenment of Asia. Although the construction of airfields was a vital, albeit doomed, project for the defense of the Japanese position, 29 Tamura can only feel bemused by his humble role. Even the coconut groves, which held fascinating promise upon arrival, now seem complicit in condemning the writer to insignificance. We have seen in the previous chapter that, as the diary progresses and Tamura’s situation deteriorates, his thoughts have become increasingly negative towards the officer cohort. From the early stages of the diary, Tamura is aware of the inequities within the military system, a grim fact of life in the Imperial Japanese Army bemoaned by other soldiers. 30 Tamura records that A friend of mine lamented that as he’s a soldier he’s resigned to supervision. Apart from the toil of life on the battlefront, there is a kind of unique internal goings on according to rank. 31 29
Professor Tanaka Hiromi, Seminar paper, “The Pacific War and New Guinea” http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/aa9b3f3247a3c8ae4a25676300078dee/fdd87d873043dcd8ca256b
84002024e9?OpenDocument 30
For example AWM RR 122 and as discussed in Chapter Three. 31
Tamura 17 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 或る友は兵隊だから總ては あきらめるのだと嘆息す 生活戦線の労苦と別に 軍隊の生活には一種独特の 内務あり 各階級によりて統属する なれば詮なく 396
We noted previously that a strict ranking system, referred to by Maruyama Masao as “the transfer of oppression,” 32 had been an inherent principle of the modern Japanese military since its establishment in the Meiji era. It has been well documented elsewhere that training for recruits of the Imperial Japanese Army was harsh and often brutal in the extreme. 33 Bullying was commonplace, physical violence the norm, 34 with the concept of senyū (army mate) being based on the inequitable senpai kōhai (senior‐
junior) relationship. 35 Perversely, the critical eye of those around him motivates Tamura even more passionately into accepting the necessity of death. This is particularly evident in an entry cryptically entitled “Emotion: Unboiled Water Incident” in which an officer has clearly broken his trust. How do you respond when someone behaves immorally? The superior officer who preaches the military code? 32
Maruyama Masao, Thought and Behaviour in Modern Japanese Politics. 18. 33
The practice of physical abuse was termed shiteki seisai and whilst the practice was supposedly abandoned in late 1941, there were many reported cases of its continuation on the battlefield. Often officers believed that slapping men was the only way to imbue soldiers with a combat spirit. See for example ATIS IR 128 (Ser 205.) 6. 34
Ienaga Saburō, Japan's Last War. 52. Ienaga states that “though officially prohibited, physical abuse of trainees was commonplace.” 35
Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 81, 84 ‐85. 397
How can we trust someone who should be morally upright but who behaves in a two‐faced way, leading people astray? 36 Whilst the details of this incident remain unclear, Tamura’s antagonism here is focused on the superior officer’s inability to operate within the military code. The tension generated by the clash of discursive ideals and inappropriate officer practice is apparent in the following. The soldiers are the children of the Emperor. How sad it is to have to obey someone just because he is a superior officer. 37 The “one great loyalty” 38 due to the Emperor is here perverted by those of higher rank who fail to fulfil honorably their responsibilities in this respect. 36
Tamura 113 感情（生水事件）六・五 主義に合せざる故に人を解かず 何を以って之に報えん 皇軍の道義を解く上官に於て 然らずや 憲兵本然の軍に於て表裏を 以て人心を買わん事を善と 為す如き果して信頼に足るべきや 然らず否だ 37
Tamura 113 唯軍は天皇親卒の元にあり 上官なるが故に従すと言えど 甚だ哀れなり 38
Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 81. Drea argues that all “little loyalties to higher authority, cultivated originally in one’s own family, in this surrogate or substitute family [of the military] added up to one great loyalty due to His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Japan.” 398
As we examined previously, membership of the Emperor’s “community of believers” 39 was further strengthened in Japan by the notion of kazoku kokka (the family as the nation state), which regarded reverence to the Emperor as head of the nation as akin to the filial piety one should show to parents. Apart from the superiority of spirit as the basis of Japanese military prowess, we have noted that the military was in fact a form of proxy family for soldiers. Edward Drea quotes from a 1908 military handbook that The barracks is the soldiers’ family where together soldiers share hardships and joys, life and death […]. A family means that the company is the household in the one village that is the regiment. The heads of the household are the father and the mother. The company commander is a strict father, and the NCO a loving mother. 40 Born as a child of the Emperor, on whose behalf he fought, Tamura has been promised not just noble status by the kokutai, but also love and nurture. 41 Consoling himself in this way also serves to distance Tamura from the superior officers who he feels are not 39
Druckman, "Nationalism, Patriotism, and Group Loyalty." 63. Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 125. As we have noted elsewhere, the act of dying on behalf of the Emperor meant that “the unity of loyalty and filial piety was held to be fully realised.” 40
Drea, Edward, "In the Army Barracks of Imperial Japan," in New Dimensions of Military History, ed. Russell F Weigley (San Rafael, California: Presidio Press, 1975). 335 41
According to Drea, the concept was best described by the phrase “loyalty to the Emperor and love of country” (chūkun aikoku). Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 82. 399
fulfilling their role. When the love and nurture he desires fails to materialize, and, with his comrades falling around him, Tamura has no option but to face death alone. Okubō Kōichi, a military participant in the discussion “Bukkyō Nippon no Shihyō o Kataru Zadankai” (A Discussion on the Aims of Buddhist Japan) was quite clear on the role of enlisted men and conscripts and the need for loyal warriors of the Emperor to nullify any sense of self by obeying those in authority [The soldier] must become one with his superior. He must actually become his superior. Similarly, he must become the order he receives. That is to say, self must disappear. In so doing, when he eventually goes onto the battlefield, he will advance when told to advance […]. On the other hand, should he believe that he is going to die and act accordingly, he will be unable to fight well. 42 Tamura subscribes to this belief when he observes How unhappy are the soldiers who cannot respect their superior officers whom they should be able to trust unreservedly. 43 Clearly, it is the human failings of these officers, rather than the system, that causes Tamura anguish. He is bitterly disheartened by the fact that, while demanding respect, 42
Victoria, Brian (Daizen) A, Zen at War. 117. Cited from Daihōrin March 1937, p 86. The Daihōrin, a monthly magazine on Buddhist topics had been in circulation since 1934 see http://www.daihōrin‐
kaku.com/kaisha‐annai‐en.html 43
Tamura 113 一意専心上官を信頼して行く べき兵隊さんにありてこれに値せざる 為に不幸あり 400
the officer cohort appears unable to accept the necessary responsibility for the welfare of their men. Distressed by the treatment he receives because of his lowly rank, Tamura notes that the ranking system of the military is not the product of the Emperor’s will. “It is disgusting on this second call up that life in the squad differs according to rank. After all, that is not an Imperial edict.” 44 He refers to the fact that he has devoted himself not once, but twice to the cause, and yet on his second call up, his life is adversely affected by the fact that he remains on the lowest rung of military rank. Although there is the hardship and toil of constructing airfields at the battlefront, as well as the fact that, as discussed in the previous chapter, soldiers are “falling like flowers” around him, it is the agents of the kokutai themselves who will be the greatest challenge to Tamura’s resolve. The inequitable hierarchy has brought forth a deep cynicism in Tamura, and this is further heightened by what he perceives as a lack of morality within the officers themselves. 44
Tamura 23 再度の應召に際して隊の 生活が階級の差によりて 非常に異なるに不快あり 勅諭の示す所詮なし 前の時せめて伍長位になって おくべきと嘆きたり 401
Although the requirement to lose all sense of self is well understood by Tamura, he concludes the entry with a selection of aphorisms that suggest that he ultimately understands the nature of the power struggle with the officers in which he is enmeshed. If you win you are the loyalist army, if you lose you are the rebel army. You can’t win against a crying child and the lord of a manor. 45 As a lowly soldier, Tamura accepts that here in the army there is only one sense of right, and that is on the side that has the power. He recognises that the actions of those officers who are not operating within the boundaries of legitimate behaviour must be accepted purely because of the strength of their position. We have previously noted his resignation in the war‐zone for the need to accept things as they are. This applies also to officer behaviour, and Tamura understands that he must bow to the unfair constraints placed upon him in the fulfilment of his duty. He could equally be referring to the onslaught of the enemy or to the demands of the senior ranks when he bitterly observes Where force prevails, righteousness withdraws. 46 In other words, “might makes right.” These sayings articulate the negative, cynical ideas with which he struggles in his inner fight against what he sees as the inequities of army 45
Tamura 114 勝てば官軍 負ければ賊軍 泣く子と地頭に勝たられぬ 46
Tamura 114 無理も通れば道理ひっこむ 402
life. Even more significantly, these sayings express the inferior worldview that is anathema to the true and righteous path under the kokutai. The behaviour of the senior officers, then, is diametrically opposed to the higher, self‐sacrificial road of the true spirit of yamato damashii which prides itself on a moralistic spirituality that lives by pure ideals, far superior to the “dog‐eat‐dog” philosophy conveyed by these sayings. Tellingly, Tamura then encourages himself to rise above his current demeaning circumstances and to continue in the higher, truly manly way. Pull yourself together and be a man. Don’t give in to anger like a wicked man, just don’t let these things shake your faith. 47 Again, Tamura must rely on his own inner strengths as the resource to enable him to continue to remain true to the kokutai. The reference to anger also suggests the degree of frustration he is experiencing in the face of officer self‐interest. 47
Tamura 114 善處せよ 男子なり 怒は悪人足るべからず 唯この事によりて信念に 隙を生ずる勿れ 403
More deeply than humiliation at his lack of status, Tamura is overwhelmed by the realization that this is, indeed, a dreadful war, a war that impacts not only on him, but on all humanity. How deeply perplexing, A world that has the whole of the human race At war in this huge conflagration! 48 Here, Tamura uses the word shimijimi, an expression that often appears in the diary, to emphasize the depth of the emotion expressed. In addition to horror at the despicable nature of the Pacific War, he often feels a combination of bewilderment and a sense of inferiority. There is also despair at the weakness that longs to cling to the kind of life he had in the past and the hope for success both in his role both as a soldier and also as a citizen of Japan. Although Tamura is increasingly unsure of the role he is expected to play, he refrains from overtly criticizing the kokutai, the ideology. Rather, he commits uncomplainingly to his life as a soldier as evidenced by his ongoing attempts to make bearable the desolate New Guinea surrounds. 48
Tamura 17 大戦火のこの中に人類の 総てが闘争して行く社會の 現実がしみじみと 頭にしみて来る 404
The sound of the waves has become our lullaby Living in a tent is comfortable once you get used to it. 49 Nature again serves to nurture, and even the enforced familiarity of the tent brings a certain security. Furthermore, Tamura ascribes the fact that he is capable of enduring the unendurable to his training as a soldier. 50 Only because I became a soldier Could I manage to be strong and courageous. 51 Here the diarist uses his belief in the spiritual invincibility of the Japanese soldier as an effective form of motivation. 52 At times, he even manages to write lighthearted parody in the face of the terror of the enemy bombs that rain down around him. The Earth's axis rumbles whenever red dragonflies drop their droppings. 53 49
Tamura 46 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 波音を子守唄ともききなれて 住めば都の天幕生活 50
Earhart, Certain Victory. 309. The culmination of the need to endure the unendurable was the Uchiteshi Yamamu (Continue the Fight) campaign launched on Army Day on 10 March, 1943. This phrase, as with Hakkō Ichiu, was attributed to the founding Emperor Jimmu. 51
Tamura 46 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 兵隊となりぬる故にかく迄も 強く雄雄しい人となり得る 52
Havens, Valley of Darkness. 12. Havens notes that the first national general mobilization law had stated that “we must mobilize our entire resources, both physical and spiritual; it is not enough merely to provide sufficient munitions.” 53
Tamura 140 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 赤とんぼ糞する度に地軸ゆれ 405
This entry, one of the last in Tamura’s diary, nonetheless evokes the intensity of the air attacks. In addition to providing details of the raids, the entries in the final pages of the diary build a vivid montage that depicts the men toiling under the blazing sun in the unbearable heat. We can see the heat haze, and the sandy ground is baked like a hot plate. The sky is clear again today and from morning the heat is intense. The size of the airfield is huge, with a perimeter of about 8 km. The work continues day after day. 54 Dogged by ill health and by shortages of even basic victuals, there is little doubt that conditions for the men were intolerable. Readers can only wonder that more troops did not become mentally unhinged. Obviously the work on the airfield is nearing completion, since the trees have been cleared away. As Tamura continues the entry, the surreal way in which the soldiers react to the air‐raids, now almost incessant, supports Kano Masanao’s view that 54
Tamura 140 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 陽炎燃えて焼く如き砂地今日も 視界晴れ 朝からぢりぢりと 照りつく四周二里程もある 大きな飛行場だ 毎日毎日作業は つづく 406
emergency events such as enemy bombings soon become normalized as the everyday in the emotionless atmosphere of the battlefield. 55 Suddenly, the siren sounds loudly. Everybody stops working and jumps into bomb shelters. Yet, people are relaxed. Some bring along magazines that they have not finished reading. Others carve wood pieces with small knives. Everybody acts as if expected guests have arrived, and evacuates to the shelter half‐jokingly. 56 Instead of fearing the arrival of the far superior enemy, we see that Tamura welcomes them like “expected guests,” further emphasising the absurdity of the world in which he finds himself. 57 With the “numbing of the senses” 58 that occurs in a war‐zone referred to by Kano, the result of constant labour is that the attacks come almost as a welcome relief, an opportunity for some well‐earned relaxation from the sweltering heat. 55
Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto. 82. 56
Tamura 140 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 突然ブザーがなる 作業を止めてみんなが防空壕にとぶ 然し呑気なもんだ 読みかけの雑誌 又 小刀で何か細工をして いるもの 予期した者が来たように 思い思いのいたずらをしつつ退避する 57
In an earlier entry Tamura had alluded to the lack of planes as being unsettling: The enemy planes which fly over almost daily haven’t appeared in the last few days. We walk down the road feeling somehow unsettled, as if someone we expected hasn’t come. Tamura 18. 58
Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto. 82. 407
However, try though he may, Tamura is ultimately unable to deny the terror generated by the raids. The sound of engines is getting close. The watch shouts, "Here they come!" We enter the shelters. The bombs fall and it sounds as if sand is falling above us. The noise is shattering. The ground shakes several times. My ears hurt even though I put my fingers in them. The walls of the shelter become loose. 59 The reality is that air attacks are dangerous, and the soldiers are at risk of losing their lives even in the shelter. Pitted against a greater foe in the form of the mighty airpower of the Allies, Tamura’s world is continually characterised by restricted spaces, if not the twilight jungle then the confined and claustrophobic environment of the hazardous bomb shelter. While the womb‐like nature of the shelter might appear to protect the soldiers from the horror of life on the battlefield above, any sense of security is momentary. However, eventually danger does pass. 59
Tamura 140 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 爆音が頭上に迫る ああ 来た来た 監視兵が言う 壕の中に入る ざあーと砂の流れる様な音をして 爆弾が降る がーん がーん と 五つ六つ ぐらぐらと地がゆれる 指でふさいだ耳がいたい 防空壁が くずれて来る 408
When the engine sound becomes distant, everybody comes out of the shelter and looks around to see if any damage is done. We did not suffer any damage. Feeling relieved, we resume our work on the bugle signal. We complete every day in a similar pattern, but finally the wings that symbolise courage and strength start to descend on the airfield. 60 The entry is significant for the manner in which the writer’s attention shifts from fear of the attacking enemy craft to the welcome of the returning Japanese airmen and their machines. At the end of the attack, with no time for the men to collect their thoughts or compose themselves, work resumes. Not even the drudgery of this labour, however, can diminish Tamura’s pride at the safe arrival home of his own aircraft. Pride at the completion of the air‐field, and readiness to take on a new mission, are also evident in the final lines of this piece of descriptive prose 60
Tamura 141 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 爆音がとおのくと一緒にみんなが 防空壕を出て近所をきょろきょろと 見廻す 友軍の損害をみると 皆無 安心して又何事もなかった 様にラッパの号音と共に作業に かかる 終日に多い日は三度四度 毎日こんな事を繰り返している中 友機の勇ましい強い翼が降下する 様になった 409
Finally, our mission is accomplished. Furthermore, we will carry on to complete new missions. I do not fear the heat or enemy planes. I will carry on without complaining. 61 Once more, Tamura includes himself in the grander cause and demonstrates a willing support for the noble pilots of the friendly bombers overhead. His words are full of resolve and determination with perhaps a tinge of resignation at the enormity of the task allotted to him by fate. The final poem in the entry, couched in the language of gunka, is a triumphant expression of pride at the success of his own contribution which permits the “young eagle” to rise from the air‐field constructed by his unit to defend the sky above the South Seas. 62 How wonderful to see the young eagle Defending the Southern sea sky Leave its nest. 61
Tamura 141 (translated by Keiko Tamura) ああ我等の任務は 成功した それと共に又更に 新しい任務に向って前進する 暑さも敵機も何のその黙々と 62
A popular pre‐1938 gunka was Arawashi no Uta “Song of the Wild Eagles.” Sugita Satoshi, "Cherry Blossoms and Rising Sun: A Systematic and Objective Analysis of Gunka (Japanese War Songs)." Ohio State University, http://etd.ohiolink.edu/send‐pdf.cgi/Sugita%20Satoshi.pdf?osu1170788993. 38. The song Sora no Yūshi “Courageous Men of the Sky” was a winning work selected from a Yomiuri Shimbun competition supported by the Army Department in 1939, Ibid. 46. During the Pacific War period, the song Wakawashi no Uta “Song of Young Eagles” gained popularity. Ibid. 51. 410
The gunwall defence is shaken but In the Southern sea our airbase remains safe. 63 The palpable happiness that fills Tamura’s heart in this passage perhaps serves to discount the precarious circumstances of the troops and to create the illusion that the base is “safe”. Tamura’s diary entries give some semblance of order to the chaos of a soldier’s life under fierce enemy attack. Only too aware of the humble nature of his role, he manages to avoid doubting the truth of the great mission of Imperial Japan to which he will sacrifice his life by identifying with the Imperial Japanese Army fighter pilots, young men whose roles have a far greater air of glory than his own. This is part of his strategy to enable continued survival in a surreal world of tedium and terror, a world of enemy attacks, daily work grind, deprivation, and chronic illness. Rather than complaining about the ideology that saw him despatched to certain death in this alien 63
Tamura 141 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 南海の空護りける若鷲の 巣立つをみれば心嬉しき 銃壁の護りゆるがし南海に 友機の基地は更にたのもし 411
location, he continues to strive to overcome the disarray of his own mind by using this ideology as a source of inspiration. Death as Ignoble Reality Regardless of the impact of the wretched New Guinea environment, where food was in short supply, contact with home was almost non‐existent and the lack of support within the hierarchy of the army was deeply disappointing, Tamura’s conscious adherence to the lexicon of the kokutai in order to achieve a noble and glorious death on behalf of the great Empire of Japan was powerful motivation for him to cope. However, this fragile personal equanimity was often unbalanced by the death of soldier comrades. The confrontation with the actuality of death is a real threat to Tamura’s resolve to die on behalf of the greater cause. Tamura reveals how completely inadequate the “spiritual” training provided by the military has been for such a traumatic event. While the strategy of leaning heavily on the concepts of the kokutai has been the primary means of preparation for his own death, this approach proves totally futile when faced with the death of comrades. Tamura suffers grief, and although, 412
as Emile Durkheim argued, 64 death should be engaged with in culturally prescribed ways, the cultural mores of the kokutai provide Tamura with no relief. Tamura’s diary records accounts of and reflections upon the actual death of comrades in the field. On 20 April, he writes under the heading “Sad News of Death” of the loss of one comrade whom he had farewelled on a ship departing for fatigue duty and of the potential demise of another who recently left sick bay. This morning a senior soldier came from headquarters to tell us that the ship which departed last night with my friend had been destroyed. When I heard such terrible news, I couldn’t help thinking what sort of stupid news it was. I never thought it possible that he would come so swiftly to this bitter doom In the morning first class private Tamai leaves sick bay. As he still hasn’t returned, I feel anxious. Sad news authenticated 9 dead (19 April). 65 64
Durkheim, Emile, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, trans. Karen E. Fields (New York: The Free Press, 1995). 187. 65
Tamura 82 悲報 （四月二十日） 何だ出発するのかこれは残念だな 分隊の人達によろしく うんよく言っとくぞ」 田中戦友が班長達と使役帰りに 浜辺で船待つ間こんな会話を して別れた友が今朝本部より 中隊の古参兵一人来て 昨夕 413
Tamura is unable to fathom how swiftly and easily death has visited these men. How could the confrere with whom he had recently exchanged friendly banter so suddenly meet the “bitter doom” of having his life obliterated? Furthermore, the experience fills Tamura with anxiety. As at the time when he viewed the ghostly reflections of his travelling companions against the windows of the train racing across the bleak landscape of Korea some months previously, 66 he has a hollow perception of being already dead that is reminiscent of the poem by Ōta Dōkan (1432‐86), poet and scholar of military arts who, upon being stabbed, wrote Had I not known That I was dead Already I would have mourned My loss of life. 67 出発した船がやられた こんな通報の来た時 何馬鹿な と思わざるを得なかった こんなに早く皮肉な運命に なろうとは思はざり 朝病室より玉井上等兵行く 未だ帰らぬまま 胸さわぐ 後記 悲報確実犠牲九名（四月十九日） 66
Tamura 34 67
Hoffmann, Yoel, Japanese Death Poems. (Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo, Japan: Charles E Tuttle, 1986. 52 414
Did Tamai who left sick bay that morning also meet the same fate? The text suggests that he probably did. A few days later, Tamura writes again of the death of a friend, although it is not clear whether he is referring to his friend who died on the 19 April, to Tamai, or to yet another comrade‐in‐arms. Now, in a verse entitled “The Sea in which My Friend Tragically Disappeared,” we find that the sea, which had hitherto been a mighty symbol of the glorious Imperial mission, becomes an alien, all‐consuming monster. On the sea which devoured my friend the little waves rise but leave no trace. The waves rise but the sea never changes, how horrible it is to think it swallowed my friend. Even though I searched for him, he never appeared. How far has he gone? To the very depths of this alien sea. 68 68
Tamura 88 友の悲しき沈みぬ海上 丸呑みに友を盡せし海上は 小波たちて跡かたもなく 波たちて常々変らざる海なれど 友を呑みしと思えばにくし 探ねたれど遂に出でざる戦友の 415
How deceptively mild with its little waves the sea is, yet how cruel, terminating his friend’s life with an impersonal calmness that leaves no trace of the departed. In Tamura’s earlier reminiscences of the journey to the battlefield, the sea was a symbol of life‐force and masculine courage. As a source of knowledge and succour it was also clearly an ally. Now the sea is an alien site of tragedy and horror. It is interesting also to consider the change in Tamura’s use of the expression hate, “edge” or “extreme.” Previously this referred to the vast majesty of the sea – a vastness to be celebrated as representative of the expanding glory of Imperial Japan and its divine mission in East Asia. Here, however, the word reinforces the sense of loss and the fact that Tamura’s friend will never be seen again. 69 There is no corpse; no proof of a glorious demise, rather, death is coldly final. Antonius Robben argues that “the solidarity in a social group which may be weakened or challenged by death is threatened by the inability to perform any kind of funeral rite.” 70 The lack of a body robs Tamura of the chance of a mourning ritual. 何處まで行きしか異海の果に 69
Robben, Antonius C G M, "Death and Anthropology: An Introduction," in Death, Mourning and Burial, ed. Antonius C G M Robben (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2004). 10. Robben notes that “a person is not considered dead in Japanese culture until the remains are cremated [so the deceased] is welcomed home by the family.” 70
Ibid. 8. 416
Grappling with the problem of how to manage the grief by which he is overcome, Tamura continues to use the diary in his attempts to make some sense of both his friend’s death and his own reaction to it. A few days ago, my friend was killed by enemy shells in this bay. However, the bay with its white waves does not look any different. There are a few drums floating away from boats. The landscape of the headland is as lush as before. Boats are moored to the wharf as before. However, how devastated I feel! He left us after a work session, sending his regards to other members of our section. The next morning, this friend could not be found anywhere and now he is at the bottom of the sea after an attack by enemy planes. What an unfortunate fate he had. 71 71
Tamura 89 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 二、三日前戦友の敵弾に虚しく 散りしこの内海は何時もと 変りなく白い小波が漂っていた 船をはなれたドラム罐が二つ三つ 浮いて居る岬の緑も変らず 波止場の小船も変りなし されど何と悲しき事ぞ 作業の歸り道分隊勇士に よろしくと言傳頼んで分かれた 戦友が明くる朝は何處へとも 知れず遂に敵機の為に うらみを呑んで海底に散る 417
Although a glorious death is a central concept in kokutai discourse, Tamura here clearly infers that the loss of this friend’s life has been without meaning. The bay, the site of his friend’s death, is now the same peaceful scene that it was prior to shelling and displays no sign of that tragedy. The fact that his friend has disappeared, leaving no trace, highlights the impersonal nature of death, a fact that leaves Tamura even more distressed. Grieving intensely, Tamura is also struck by the brevity of his lost comrade’s life. He fleetingly grasps again at the kokutai promise of eternal god status. However, it is no use lamenting. We hope he is in a peaceful slumber and becomes a god protecting the nation. At his grave, I prayed for my dead friend’s peaceful repose. 72 There is an inference here that the discursive promise of becoming a god that will be revered by the nation state is small compensation for a life cut short. Tamura’s sense of loss is further heightened by the destabilising fact that the comrade’s death occurred at sea. Since this is the very sea to which he had once 72
Tamura 89 (translated by Keiko Tamura) ああ無念なり されど詮なし 唯安らかに 眠りて護国の神となれ 今は無き戦友の冥福を 祈りて君の墓所に立つ 418
turned to shore up his own resolve to die a noble death, Tamura goes to the pier to try to find some trace of meaning in his friend’s demise and to assuage the sense of loss by which he is consumed. He expresses the depths of his anguish as follows. We pledged our life and death together, and now my friend is dead. In my overwhelming loneliness, all alone, I come to the pier where we parted, but all I saw were the unsmiling black faces of a couple of natives giving me a casual nod of the head. Sadly, in my heart I called out my friend’s name. The answering sound of the waves didn’t even say “sayonara.” No image of my friend appeared in my mind. Ahhh! 73 Once again the meaninglessness of the loss of young life is highlighted by the fact that neither the hateful sea nor the natives show the slightest interest, concern or despair at his friend’s demise. Nor do they acknowledge the effect that this death has had on Tamura. Isolated and gripped by an “overwhelming loneliness,” all that remains is to 73
Tamura 90 生死を共にと誓いたり戦友今散りて とどめなく孤独の感に唯一人 別れ志波止場に来てみれば 土人の黒い顔二つちょこんと礼して 微笑みぬ 我は悲しく戦友の名をぞ心に 呼びたれど返す小波その音に さようならとも交し得ず友の 面影偲れぬ ああ 419
visit the site where he bid his comrade the final farewell and to call the friend’s name “in my heart.” The intractability of the sea’s response, which denies even a “sayonara” reply from this former ally, greatly compounds the writer’s anguish. Still trying to make sense of the event, and trying to add some glory to his friend’s death, Tamura momentarily clutches at the language of the official discourse. In this sea at the extremity of the Southern Ocean At the far end of New Guinea He died as a flower defending his country May he rest in eternal fragrance, a guardian god of East Asia. 74 Again, Tamura reaffirms his faith in the iconography of the kokutai, and wishes for his friend the eternal reward the official discourse promises. 75 However, the fragility of this faith is apparent in the lines that follow. How can I not lament you, my friend, a young cherry blossom, fallen and gone? That was all the life you had. 76 74
Tamura 90 南海の果の海 ニューギニアの 一端に護国の花と散り果てぬ 功し香り 永久に 眠れ東亜の守神 75
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 125 76
Tamura 90 君の為何が惜しまん若櫻 420
Although the kokutai asks him to accept the sacrifice of life for the noble cause of Japan, having claimed a friend all too soon, death has now become a personal, private matter. Tamura therefore finds it impossible to feel the mandatory calm “joy” demanded by the Department of Military Education’s booklets distributed to officers offering advice on the implementation of the Senjinkun. This material stated that, “Transcending life and death” the soldier should “earnestly rush forward to accomplish your duty. Exhausting the power of your body and mind, calmly find joy in living in eternal duty.” 77 Tamura recognises that he does not have the means with which to deal with his deepening and compounding grief. He writes under the heading “Sentimentality” Feeling lonely is such a sentimental thing. I become sad at the slightest thing. Ahhh! Is this how it is on the battlefield? When I think of half my life, just a young shoot still growing, I feel miserable. What is faith? I’ve put so much effort into becoming strong and yet I am so weak. Why is that? 78 散って果えある生命なりせば 77
Four booklets were produced at the same time as the Senjinkun (January 1941) under anonymous authorship by the Department of Military Education “designed to provide the officer corps with guidance for the implementation of the [Senjinkun].” Victoria, Brian (Daizen) A, Zen War Stories. 117. 78
Tamura 91 感傷 四月二十九日 421
While the verses cited above clearly reveal Tamura’s confusion and isolation, it is important to note that in his desperate attempts to resolve this personal dilemma he ultimately refuses to blame the kokutai for his inability to deal with his grief. Rather he blames what he regards as his own weakness. There is an absurdity to this position, of course, given that, while Tamura might claim that his sadness comes “at the slightest thing,” the death of a comrade is actually a very serious thing. There is a clear inference in the lines above, too, that the death of this particular friend has forced Tamura to confront the fact that, even though he himself, like his friend, is “just a young shoot still growing,” there is almost no doubt that his fate with be one with that of his lost comrade. The turmoil Tamura feels results from the fact that in dealing with his friend’s death he has been forced unequivocally to face the strong likelihood of his own demise, as demonstrated by the lines below. 物淋しい何と感傷的の事だろう ふとした事に遂物悲しくなる ああ戦場の常か 我の半生を思うとき余りにも 芽つまれた人生故に情けなくなる 信念が何だ 強くなろうとして努力して来た それなのに何故かしら弱い 422
It’s hard to stop feeling sorrowful. How should this body that cannot resign itself to its destiny now live? 79 Sorrow for his friend has become sorrow at his own fate and his inability to face the event with composure. He is trapped here in a horrible environment which promises nothing but a wretched death. It is, indeed, the ignobility and obvious futility of death here in the jungle of New Guinea that is impossible to accept. Again he blames himself for being unable to let go of his life in the manner required by the tenets of the kokutai when he writes As a man who came to this strange land to sacrifice his life for the Emperor I am unmanly. Maybe I just cannot let go of my life. Bestowed this agonising existence, living and dying is a paper‐fine difference known only by the gods. 80 79
Tamura 91 哀愁の念が去り難いのだ 運命とあきらめられぬこの身 どうして生きて行こうか 80
Tamura 91 心命を大君に捧げて来た この異郷に男として女々しい 未練がましいのか知れぬ 苦悶の人生今頂き生も死も 紙一重唯神の知るのみ 423
The death of his friend filled Tamura with an anguish that could have crushed his resolve. While his grief causes him to call into question his own courage, he never questions the requirement of the kokutai that he must die. Tamura’s exploration of his own reaction to these circumstances recalls the response of the main protagonist in Ōoka Shōhei’s Nobi (1967 “Fires on the Plains”), who, we have noted, is also called Tamura. The Tamura of the novel observes as follows. A strange force drove me on. I knew full well that only calamity and extinction awaited me at the end of my journey; yet a murky curiosity impelled me to continue plumbing the depths of my loneliness and despair until the moment when I was to find death in the corner of some unknown tropical field. 81 Although the novel is set in the Leyte Island campaign of 1944, the decline of Japan’s fortunes at war had already begun by 1943 when our diarist was writing. There are significant differences in the circumstances and motives of the two men. While Tamura of Fires on the Plains seems impelled by a “murky curiosity” to explore his feelings of loneliness, Tamura, the diarist, seems impelled rather by disappointment, even surprise, at his feelings of loneliness and despair. I know I will not return, So why do I long so for the home I have left behind? 81
Ōoka Shōhei, Fires on the Plain. 59 424
True, I am a soldier, But my Yamato spirit has a heart and soul too. 82 The difference may lie in the fact that Fires on the Plains was written after the war, when the idea of the kokutai was completely discredited, so that the author had his protagonist explore these emotions simply as part of the human condition in extremis. The diarist, Tamura, however, cannot extricate himself from the kokutai idea because he has been so thoroughly indoctrinated, and also because the kind of discrediting of kokutai ideas that eventuated in the post‐war era would have been unthinkable to any Japanese, particularly a soldier, during the war years. In other places in the diary Tamura again records the “misfortune” and miserable feelings generated by the death of a friend. Here, too, there is comparison with the China front, hinting that, not only did soldiers’ deaths in China seem noble and meaningful, but also funeral services for Imperial Japanese Army troops in China had a dignity and sense of ceremony completely absent in New Guinea. The funeral service of one of my friends was held on the first day of April by the company commander. How I ache at my friend’s misfortune. 82
Tamura 32 再び還る気はせねど 立ちし故郷が何故こいし 軍人じゃと言うたとて 花も身もある大和魂 425
The conditions here are more miserable than at any time on the warfront in China. 83 The death of comrades saps Tamura of both physical and emotional strength, leaving him weary and inconsolable. Even the once consoling act of writing cannot heal his sense of loss. Joyless, I take up my pen. Illness comes one after another, And I am weary. 84 The gruelling physical conditions of the tropics cumulatively take their toll. This physical exhaustion and infirmity makes self‐motivation increasingly difficult. While confrontation with death impacts on Tamura’s approach to the demands of the kokutai, he never openly rejects these. Rather he becomes less confident in the strength of his personal resolve. This faltering, though, remains a very private inner trumoil. In a moving entry in the latter part of the diary, titled “Battle 83
Tamura 23 戦友ありて四月一日に 中隊にて告別式を挙げし際 不幸の友を痛む 中支戦線の当時より更に 不幸なる現況に情無し 84
Tamura 23 想いつらつら定らず 元気なくペンを執る今日 病重なりて疲労あり 426
Comrade,” Tamura observes that he has not divulged the details of his previous war‐
zone experience to a colleague departing, presumably for battle and likely death. Distant memories of my expedition, I kept my exploits from my comrade On his departure. 85 There is a grim sense of resignation to the verse, a sadness and foreboding at what is likely to be a final farewell. Past battle exploits in China are not only irrelevant, but deathly ironic here in New Guinea, and the fervour and excitement of being an Imperial soldier expressed in the passage on the Black Current early in the diary have disappeared completely. For Tamura, the ability to remain emotionally grounded in the New Guinea battlefield has been contingent on his acceptance of the obligation to die on behalf of the Empire. The hollowness of this obligation, however, is summed up by Lieutenant‐General Yoshiwara Kane, writing after the suicide of the New Guinea campaign commander, Lieutenant‐General Adachi Hatazō, following the life sentence handed down to the latter by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East (Tokyo 85
Tamura 103 遠征の想出はるか いさおしを 秘めて戦友の門出 かざらん 427
War Crimes Tribunal) on 12 July, 1947. As Kane observed “meritorious deeds on the New Guinea battleground brought no laurels of victory, only funeral wreaths. The dead received no eulogies and no‐one recorded their glory.” 86 While these words are reminiscent of ultra‐nationalist discourse, the reality of the New Guinea battle‐field was a bitter fact of life for anonymous soldiers. Surrounded by only death and destruction, yet desperately seeking to keep the faith, Tamura has no option but to turn to the very ideology that demands his own demise. Tamura’s confrontation with death arouses a paradoxical deep‐seated desire to live life more fully as a subject of Japan. In reflecting, the diarist assesses his life thus far as less than satisfactory. This assessment generates an inner turmoil which, in total contradiction to the requirements placed upon him by adherence to the kokutai, again threatens to create an egocentric approach to his current task as a soldier. A Life Flawed We have seen that Tamura has frequently used recalling the past as a strategy to remain connected with the familiar. However, this propensity has an unexpected and challenging consequence. Part of Tamura’s way of trying to reconcile 86
Drea, In the Service of the Emperor. 109 428
his own desires for achievement with the requisite noble death is to mentally review his past civilian life. In his exile on the far shores of New Guinea he has time to reflect and that reflection creates an even greater longing to survive because of what he perceives as his failings in life and a desire to compensate for these. We recall that Tamura had chosen not to take up the option of becoming a farmer on the family farm, deciding instead to work in factories in the city. In the following passage, titled “Reflections” he ruminates on his performance as a citizen. I have only accomplished 30 per cent as a farmer and really only 10 per cent as a city person. I know I have not achieved much by now. When I reflect I feel really ashamed of my conscience. 87 The further Tamura probes his own desires experienced outside his current world, the harder it becomes for him to sacrifice his life to the greater cause of taigi without regret. While he might try to convince himself – and possibly others – of his commitment to give his life for the Emperor, there are lingering regrets that must be resolved before death can be met in peace. 87
Tamura 63 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 百姓としては未だ三分都会人としては 本当の一部位しか値なき今日 自己の良心がしみじみ恥かしい 429
Before departing Japan, Tamura had believed that his life was fulfilled and valid. Once in New Guinea, however, a sense of lost opportunity intrudes on his consciousness. I felt I was a fully developed as a person, and was confident that I had led a full day to day life as a member of society. Yet, when I look back, that seems to have been an illusion. 88 Poignantly though, he believes that it is his own lack of commitment to strive for excellence that has created his unhappiness. “Whatever duty I had,” he writes, “I did not dedicate myself earnestly, and my life so far has not been happy.” 89 What is crucial here is that while he is disappointed with himself as a civilian, Tamura firmly believes that he is indeed a dedicated and devoted soldier. His role as a soldier means that he must remain totally committed to taigi, yet his life “outside” the military seems more aimed to achievements of the self. 88
Tamura 63 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 一人前の人として生活にたずさわり 社会人とうぬぼれて来しが 何となくこの世の事とも思えぬ 89
Tamura 63 (translated by Keiko Tamura) どんな仕事でも本心から打ち込んで 行けざりし 我は半生不幸なり 430
Tamura’s existence, disordered by his attempts to resolve this conflict, is given security once more by returning to the principles of the kokutai, manifested now as the transcendental principles of devotion to battle. What is the use of sentiment? What is the use of education? The only thing we believe in on the battlefield is destiny and the world of loyalty and love. 90 Consoled by his deep‐seated belief that his role as a soldier who will die for the Emperor is the most important he can play, Tamura is able to summarily dismiss the internal turmoil that threatens to overwhelm him and thereby dedicates himself once more to the higher ideal. In order to settle the quandary within his own mind, Tamura vows to take what he has learned as a soldier to facilitate success in civilian life after the war. He declares his commitment to becoming “a competent farmer or reliable worker” who will pursue pleasure only “when I have extra energy.” 91 90
Tamura 63 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 情操が何だ 教育が何だ 戦場で思うは唯天道だ 義と愛の世界である 91
Tamura 63 (translated by Keiko Tamura_ この言がしみじみと有難く これから一人前の百姓か又立派に 独立して行ける職工とならん 娯楽を求めるは余力の出来た後 始めて許さるべき事 431
There is often an obsessive quality to Tamura’s reflections that results in the diarist castigating himself irrationally. In the extreme conditions of the wretched battlefield, he can regret even the most irrelevant things. In the boredom of the battlefield, I feel deeply embarrassed about my lack of education when I think of an opera I once saw. First, I can’t read the alphabet, so even when I see the lyrics, I can’t respond emotionally. It’s just as if they were about strange, faraway events. 92 There is no logical basis for Tamura with his primary school education to regret being unable to read the lyrics of an opera. Nevertheless, this grand and rather ludicrous expectation reveals the extent of Tamura’s personal desire for achievement. The cultural nature of his preferences shows, perhaps, the side of his abilities which have produced this quite literary diary. The pathway towards achievement, though, is strewn with what he considers his own flaws. The particular failing that he points out is a lack of sensitivity, an inability to write good poetry. I seem to be very sensitive, but I don’t actually understand my emotions at all. For me even writing poems consists of nothing more than stringing together 92
Tamura 75 陣中のつれづれに拝見したこの歌劇 しみじみと己の浅学が恥ずかしい 第一英字がよめぬ 歌詞をみても情味さえ余り起きず 遠い別の出来事の様にうつる 432
31 syllables. How pathetic. Because I have no teacher to guide me, I learn by myself and enjoy by myself. 93 The diary itself demonstrates that Tamura is very capable of rendering his deeper feelings and views into verse and that his fears in this respect are groundless. These lines reflect a degree of what Yasuko Claremont argues is the sense of “nullity” apparent in Japanese prisoner‐of‐war poets in Siberia. Claremont argues that “the Siberian experiences of Ishihara Yoshirō (1915‐1977) as a prisoner‐of‐war place his poetry in a unique psychological position where the self and any form of interaction no longer exist.” 94 Tamura’s emotions have been brutally pared back by the war situation, where daily life confronts only death and destruction, as he already notices very early in the diary. I realise that life in the military makes us suppress consciousness of time and forget about months and days. I feel I do not pay attention to the passing of 93
Tamura 76 多感の様でその実何の感情も 分からざる 詩を作るにしても唯三十一文字を べたべたと並べる意外何の 事もないのに情けなく思う 師もなき獨り道なるが故 一人で学んでひとり嬉ぶ 94
Claremont, Yasuko, Japanese Prose Poetry. 59. 433
time, and have become less sensitive. I do not have much chance to appreciate the people around me. 95 Nevertheless, while Tamura has learnt to become desensitized and, to a degree, to sanitize events which occur around him as a necessary strategy for survival, we also see that he continues to cling to the hope of personal salvation and success. In one verse, he compellingly refers to himself as “the bearded daruma” who engages in “arranging flowers on a makeshift desk.” 96 One story suggests that the daruma, a more familiar name for the Buddhist monk Bodhidharma (440 – 528), achieved enlightenment by living in a cave for seven years without blinking, which eventually caused his eyelids to drop off. His extended period of meditation also atrophied his limbs, which in turn broke off. The daruma is highly prized for its spirit of determination, and the talisman is purchased to enlist its services in helping people to achieve their aims. The proverb associated with the daruma is “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” 97 Tamura knows he will get up again, like the daruma, and accomplish 95
Tamura 5 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 軍隊生活して居ると月日の 感情が全然消しとんで無神経 の様になり 無情なり 人の恵みも知る術もなく 96
Tamura 76 にわか作りの机の上に草花生けてる ひげだるま 97
http://tokaido.wordpress.com/2008/02/06/47‐inch‐bearded‐daruma‐japan‐zen‐buddhist‐bodhidarma/ 434
his mission in life successfully, even if that success means to die well for the country. Again, the reference to flower‐arranging points to the side of Tamura’s personality that is interested in culture and in those artistic pursuits which are, after all, an essential part of being an Imperial subject, even though, ironically, this part is being thoroughly repressed by the mission at hand. While he feels that his senses are numbed, he nevertheless tries to remain committed to his aims. Tamura’s desires for achievement are also rooted within the concept of living well. At present I would only just be at the sprouting weeds stage of development in a society of countless stages of progress. How does our heart change over a lifetime in this world? I believe my heart’s desire to learn will never die. 98 Tamura’s daily life in New Guinea is acted out in a crisis situation of insurmountable magnitude. Yet, he repeatedly returns in his entries to his desire to learn and improve himself. Sometimes this desire and the demands of the kokutai collide. He is, for 98
Tamura 75 社会の増が幾千とあるとしたら やっと芽生えたばかりの雑草にも 等しい現在であろう 一生の生活を通して終生の心境が 如何に変化しようと 学ばんと欲する心は永久に 変らざると信ず 435
example, deeply moved by an article he reads in the girl’s magazine Shōjo no tomo, (The Girl’s Friend). 99 During a break I saw […(unclear text)] an article about the aggressive spirit of society in the magazine Shōjo no tomo, and it left a very deep impression on me. 100 Even in the depths of the battlefield, the authorities are able, through the medium of popular magazines, to distribute exhortative material to soldiers reminding them of the unique qualities of the Japanese. 101 Tamura continues to show admiration and respect for those who strive to better themselves. Looking into the lives of the people in the upper classes, you perceive a certain spitefulness, but the idea of a life of advancement is exciting: stories 99
A young ladies’ magazine published from 1908 ‐1956. It is not surprising, however, that soldiers found materials of interest within its pages. Even though this was a magazine for girls, its contents became increasingly militarised as the war progressed. “Magazines for young girls were no exception; young girls – future mothers and wives – were important reserves who would support the nation in the future, so the government paid special attention to the content of magazines and other forms of girls’ cultural media.” Dollase, Hiromi Tsuchiya, "Girls on the Home Front: An Examination of Shōjo no tomo Magazine 1937‐
1945," Asian Studies Review 32, no. 3 (2008). 324. 100
Tamura 121 社会の闘争心が戦陣の余暇 少女の友をみ：：見て非常に 強く意識された 101
Sarah Frederick also points out that one of the focuses of women’s magazines was to “elevate” the audience. Frederick, Sarah, Turning Pages: Reading and Writing Women's Magazines in Interwar Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2006). 110. 436
of self‐made men who brought up their children from poverty and made them into fine people. 102 This admiration for those who have found success heightens Tamura’s sense of torment at his own lack of achievement. Ahh, why have I had such a miserable fate? Since birth, because of my lack of knowledge, I have not been able to overcome a whole range of obstacles and have fallen behind. If my parents had taught me to strive more, maybe I could have done much better. 103 Here, the agony apparent in his words is briefly directed at his parents, who he believes share some of the blame for his lack of achievement. However, he quickly recovers his equanimity and declares “If I return alive, I’m going to make it!” 104 102
Tamura 121 上流生活者の内部をみると或る 一種の反感をみ 又生活の向上を 計る 人生を思えば心躍る 子を貧より育てて立派なる 人を成し得た立志傳 103
Tamura 121 ああ我は何故こんな悲惨なる 運命なりやと嘆く 人と生れて智なき為様々の障害を 切り開き得ず落伍したり 104
Tamura 121 我を親がもっと向上さすべく 導いて呉れたらもっともっと 何とかなっていたろう 兵隊に来てしみじみ人の 階級に心す 我はもし生還を みたならば必ずやるぞ 437
Slippage into self pity, though, is not characteristic of the diary. In another entry we see Tamura consider the need to balance the demand of the self with family obligations. Even now, if circumstances permit, I want to progress down the road of my aspirations. While I am not the kind of person to develop myself at the expense of the happiness of my parents and siblings, there may yet be some purpose to my life. 105 While desiring to continue on the pathway of self‐achievement that will give meaning to his existence, Tamura cannot but consider the “happiness” of his “parents” and “siblings,” and the need to comply with the state‐defined concept of oyakōkō (filial piety). 106 It is death that will be the supreme sacrifice in this respect. Tamura himself acknowledged that, in Fujii Tadatoshi’s words, “my parents brought me up, I haven’t returned them anything, didn’t have enough chance to pay them back, so I will go to war and die for my country as the ultimate in oyakōkō.” 107 In fact, according to Fujii, the greatest oyakōkō that one could practise was to oya ni sakitatsu (die before the 105 Tamura 75 今からでも境遇が許すならば 希望の道に進みたいと思う 親兄弟に不幸をして自己を 生かし得る人間でない所に 又人生の趣旨があるのかも 知れざる 106
Tsurumi Kazuko, Social Change and the Individual. 94. 107
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 72. 438
parents). 108 This model was appropriated by the military as further justification of the demand for the absolute loyalty, even to death, of the nation’s soldiers. Tamura is, only too aware that his lot is now entirely at the mercy of fate. Seeing off my army friend who went to pick coconuts, I await his return, the smile on my face gone. Man proposes, God disposes. 109 Inevitably, Tamura’s resolve to live life well cannot overcome the fact that in the end he must accept his destiny. However, he remains adamant. He does not falter from the path of total commitment to the greater cause of taigi placed upon him by adherence to the kokutai ideology. As we have seen, the diarist does not focus his disappointment on the kokutai discourse or on the fact that his despatch to this war‐zone may have contributed to his failings. Rather his antagonism is directed at himself and his own inabilities. His discontent at his past and lack of achievement is exacerbated by the 108
Ibid. 72 109 Tamura 76 椰子取りに出で立つ戦友を 見送りて帰りを待つと 笑顔のこさん 天地唯人事を尽して 天命を待つ 439
dismal situation in which he now exists. The grim reality is that, notwithstanding all of his aspirations outside of his current existence, he is in fact a soldier of the Imperial Army of Japan facing almost certain death. The following chapter will examine Tamura’s path to death. 440
Chapter Eight Reconciling Death Introduction Throughout the diary there is a growing discord between the obligation for Tamura to die a noble death as a soldier and the writer’s desire to return home to live a full and productive life. Tamura Yoshikazu is placed in a milieu of certain death, which motivates him to reflect on his past life and to ponder the best way to live his life until the end of his days inevitably comes. He expresses this dilemma by reference to the metaphor of “main‐line,” the kokutai’s discursive demand that he sacrifice his life, and his “sub‐line,” his personal longing for achievement. In this final chapter, we will examine the manner in which this dichotomy gripped Tamura until he eventually came to terms with and calmly awaited death. We will commence with an analysis of an incident in which Tamura once more found his sensitivities assailed by the attitude of the Senior Command. The Final Inhuman Effort to Become a Man without a Me While constantly striving to find the strength of character necessary to pursue the Imperial way, Tamura’s resolve is severely shaken by an incident which 441
results in him writing a lengthy piece under the title “Remonstrance.” No doubt by the time that Tamura penned the piece, his daily life had become almost insufferable. Illness had taken a firm hold, and enemy attacks had become more intense. In spite of these trials, the senior officers maintained a detached and superior air which damaged the morale of the troops. 1 Tamura’s tenacity is so severely shaken by this incident that he devotes five pages to relate both what occurred and how he attempted to resolve the consequent emotions by which he was overwhelmed. 22 June The company commander gave me a dressing‐down. I was lying in bed with exhaustion and a headache when the commander passed by our hut. Somebody shouted to salute, but I failed to do so. 2 1
ATIS CT 71(807) p 2 Reprimand to officers on 14 June 1943 by Battalion Commander Takamura at Nassau Bay. “Officers of higher and middle ranks, they have been weak‐willed and deficient in firmness of purpose. They have lacked kindness and consideration in their leadership of those of lower rank. They have whined about the prevalence of illness, and then when they themselves became ill, their morale was feeble [;] they lost prestige in the eyes of their subordinates, and forfeited their trust and confidence because of the contradiction between their words and deeds.” 2
Tamura 125 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 諌 六月二十二日 中隊長に怒られた。事は作業後の 疲れと頭痛のため床に伏し居たり 隊長殿が兵舎の前を通り 誰かが 敬礼と呼んだ その時起きざるによる 442
As we have seen in Chapter Three, illness was considered a dereliction of duty. In spite of the appalling conditions and gravely compromised living conditions at the base, there was no real sympathy for troops who took ill. 3 Japanese soldiers so afflicted were often left to fend for themselves. 4 Almost inconceivably, even under these conditions officers required that men acknowledge the status of rank. Tamura’s failure to do so brings the wrath of the system down on his head. 5 He had ordered me to see the doctor. However, since I did not feel it was anything serious and since the rest period was going to be long, I had not obeyed his order. Later, the commander summoned me and asked me why I had not gone to see the doctor. That was the first issue he raised. He expressed his anger and said that I did not possess enough will power. “Although you were not faking illness, things were not sorted out.” “It was rude.” “When a soldier fails to salute, he is gravely irresponsible.” He continued to accuse me of acting selfishly and behaving differently to different people. 6 3
In fact there are accounts of stretcher cases being left behind when the troops were retreating either by barge, trucks or on foot, to make way for higher ranking officers. ATIS IR 133 (Ser. 211) p 4. 4
For example Unidentified Soldier Diary ATIS, Bull. 789 p 2. “It was pitiful, no, it was like cutting my own stomach to leave Ota behind. Before departure, I went to his bedside and took hold of his hand. He tried to rise but could not. We finally parted in tears.” 5
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no sensō.38. Saluting was seen as a tool towards the maintenance of military hierarchy. Fujii states that “In military education, the salute was the most basic practice.” 6
Tamura 125 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 『診謎を受け』隊長の命だ 然れども自己として余り大した 443
These accusations were a turning point for Tamura. He had shown some initiative in believing that his rest period would be enough to resolve his illness, and the fact that he had disobeyed orders about seeing the doctor was not as serious to the officer as having failed to salute. While never overtly questioning the worth of official discourse, Tamura has nonetheless constantly sought to reconcile the need to be a faithful and loyal servant with the desire for personal achievement in the wider society. Previously, the inherent conflict in these contradictory internal demands has not been apparent to Tamura. The superior officer’s remonstrance, however, causes him to reflect on his own commitment to the kokutai. I did not feel ashamed, as my conscience was clear, but the commander’s words made me aware of one thing. If my spirit can be divided into a main‐ line and a sub‐ line, my sub ‐line is growing too long. 7 事もなく思い連休の長い 事を思い命に背きたり 後刻中隊長殿によばれ 何故診断を受けんかと始り 精神の至らざると怒りを受く 自己の病は偽りならざるも 事がいかん 何故 欠礼だ 敬礼を欠けば 兵の責 重し 利己主義だ 影日向ありと 7
Tamura 126 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 444
This is a crucial passage and the lynchpin of the diary demonstrating both the desire to be a dedicated soldier of the Emperor, which the writer terms as his “main‐line,” while maintaining a healthy and robust desire for personal achievement, which he relegates now to his “sub‐line.” Tamura’s recognition of the importance of what he terms the “main‐line” is entirely in keeping with the requirements placed upon him by the kokutai and its agents. He grapples with the need to be imbued with the bushidō spirit as advocated by Nitobe Inazō (1862 – 1933), who famously wrote on the nullification of the self as One of the highest terms of praise was a “man without a me.” The complete effacement of self meant one’s identification with some higher cause. The very duties which man performs are, according to our idea, not to buy a salvation for himself; he has no prospect of a “reward in heaven” offered him, if he does this or does not abstain from that. The voice of conscience, “Thou good and faithful servant” is the one and only sufficient reward.” 8 良心に恥じざる現在と言えど 隊長の言で今迄の自分が或は 主線と副線とに精神を分ければ やや副線の方が伸びすぎると 思った The author has substituted “main‐line” (main line) and “sub‐line” (sub line) in Keiko Tamura’s original translation to provide consistency with the use of the terms in this thesis. 8
Nitobe Inazō, The Japanese Nation: Its Land, Its People, and Its Life, with Special Consideration to Its Relations with the United States. 156. 445
Tamura has devoted himself resolutely to taigi, but has also had immense difficulty relinquishing his sense of himself as a human being with a personal purpose. While he appears to believe implicitly that he has tried to follow the prescribed pathway, he reveals that his commitment has at times been strained by the fact that the endpoint of his current path can only be death. He writes My whole life has been devoted wholeheartedly to the Emperor, and my sense of dedication is genuine. However, I cannot help feeling a certain way. We did not care about our lives. I realise now that was the problem. We should not behave as if we do not care about anything, just because our lives are out of our control. We should contemplate how we could best utilise our lives for the cause, but we did not think about it much before. 9 Here Tamura recognizes that there is a required model of behaviour since the kokutai dictates that the loyal warrior should approach death in a noble and honourable way. However, the expectation of yamato damashii is not only to die in a noble way, but also 9
Tamura 126 (translated by Keiko Tamura 全生命を天皇に捧げて 奉公の精神に欠けざるも ともすれば或一種のちがいあり 生命をいらん人間だから これが悪かった 生命をいらねば 何をしても良いのではない 如何に立派にこの生命を役 立てるかに存する事を遂 おろそかにしていた。 446
to live well. Underlining his understanding, though, are the demands of officialdom to devote himself wholeheartedly to the “cause.” Ultimately, his only option is to fight on with conviction until the day of death arrives. Merely to wish for death in order to escape from a wretched existence is regarded as wasteful and counterproductive. As Okubō Kōichi pointed out: “should [the soldier] believe that he is going to die and act accordingly, he will be unable to fight well.” 10 The obligation to live fully until the day of death arrives, however, never overshadows the requirement to willingly choose death should the opportunity arise. In the words of the Hagakure, the Way of the samurai is found in death. When it comes to either/ or, there is only the quick choice of death, It is not particularly difficult. Be determined and advance. To say that dying without reaching one’s aim is to die a dog’s death is the frivolous way of sophisticates. When pressed with the choice of life or death, it is not necessary to gain one’s aim. 11 Clearly, the requirement is to die well, and to ensure that one’s own personal desires for achievement are always subsidiary to the ultimate sacrifice of death as a loyal subject of the Emperor. 10
Victoria, Brian (Daizen) A, Zen at War. 117. Cited from Daihōrin March, 1937, p 86. Okubō Kōichi was a military participant in the discussion “Bukkyō Nippon no Shihyō o Kataru Zadankai” (A Discussion on the Aims of Buddhist Japan). 11
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai. 17. 447
For Tamura, acceptance of this fact does not lessen the struggle that rages within him following the superior officer’s accusations. The chaos in Tamura’s mind is still apparent as he continues to try to justify his own actions and his response to the requirements that the kokutai places on him. I was called selfish, and that might be true. But having being labelled as selfish struck me hard. How dare he call me selfish? I have been giving my utmost priority to the public cause. I was so sad when he said I was selfish. He clearly did not understand the effort I had put in. I have been toiling for the greater good of the public cause up till now. But my efforts seem to have been in vain. 12 The toil for the greater good has been Tamura’s physical commitment in the wretched environment in New Guinea. Since he believes without reservation that his dedication to that task has been beyond reproach, the rage that erupts within him at the superior 12
Tamura 126‐ 127 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 利己主義だ ああ そうかも 知れない 何をもってこの言に めざめざるや 利己主義とは何ぞ 公益優先を分かるかと ああ 我はこの時悲しかった これ程我を見下しているのかと 今迄少なくも公のために益せんと 苦労して来のが何のためか 計りかねる 448
officer’s words is palpable. Once more, however, that rage is directed at the human agent, not at the ideology itself. By far the greatest affront for Tamura is the officer’s belief that the diarist, exemplary in his devotion to the Emperor, is not ready to die. When I was called to salute and did not, I was dishonest. I have to admit that. I would not mind if he reprimanded me further on this aspect. I would not hold a grudge against him at all. Yet, when he concluded that I would be fearful in the face of death or would hesitate to die for the country just because I missed a salute, I was devastated. It was so shameful. As a person, I cannot imagine any more shameful incident than this. 13 The impact upon Tamura’s sensitivities of the hypocrisy of the superior officer’s absurd demands is unambiguous in this entry. Undoubtedly, at the time these bitter thoughts were recorded the likelihood of victory for the Japanese was slim in this part of New Guinea. In spite of, or perhaps even because of, the dire circumstances in which the 13
Tamura 127 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 人が敬礼と呼びしに起きざる この心 この心がずるいのだ 確かにそうだ この点はもっと もっと怒って呉れても我は 何のうらみなし 唯 この一点によりて死を 皇国のために死をおそるる 人と言われたるは悲し 恥だ 人としてこれ以上の恥なし 現在迄の自己を反省して 449
troops now find themselves, the senior officers remain inflexibly attached to the spartan regime of Imperial Army discipline. The absoluteness of Tamura’s shame causes him once again to face head‐
on the prospect of his own impending death. When I reflect upon myself, I cannot say I never feared death. However, I would never act as if I feared death on the battlefield. I will produce results and the commander will eat his words about my being selfish. That will be the best chance for my sincere intentions to be known. I will wait for that chance. I will not neglect training, in order to clear this shame. Oh, the devastation hit me instantly. I might need to spend my whole life to prove that the commander was wrong. 14 14
Tamura 128 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 死を恐れたりと思う事が 少なきも言に抗なし 唯 この言に当てはまる様な 行動を戦場の巷に取る勿れ 必ずこの言を取り消す様な 働きをして隊長にまみ得ん その時こそ我の心を知らす べき絶好の機会 その時迄 その時迄 この恥を この恥をそそぐ訓練 怠るべからず ああ 人一瞬にして砕ける 今後この言葉を取り消す ために一生を費やすかも知れん 450
Tamura is deeply insulted by the accusation of selfishness. He believes he has attempted to relinquish a sense of the self and devote himself completely to the greater cause. The shame inflicted by the senior officer has produced in the diarist an indignant determination to fight on because “the way of avoiding shame is […] simply death.” 15 Tamura’s passion and desire to prove his worth through death demonstrates the extent of the hold the official discourse has on his consciousness. Tamura’s resolve to accept the senior officer’s challenge provides insights into the absolute requirement on Imperial Japanese Army troops of a fearless approach to death. Daisetsu Suzuki Teitarō records that Uyesugi Kenshin (1530 – 1578), a military general of the Sengoku Period (1467‐ 1573) wrote that Those who cling to life die, and those who defy death live. The essential thing is the mind. Look into this mind and firmly take hold of it and you will understand that there is something in you which is above birth‐and‐death and which is neither drowned in water nor burned by fire […]. Those who are reluctant to give up their lives and embrace death are not true warriors. 16 As we have seen in Chapter Two, the most significant tool used by the Japanese military system was that of spiritual superiority, or a stronger will. Thus, “the spirit is 15
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai. 30. 16
As quoted in Suzuki Daisetsu Teitarō, Zen and Japanese Culture. 86. 451
indestructible, and death is eternal life. Never must death be feared.” 17 Spirit was intended to “match poor training against their numbers and our flesh against their steel.” 18 The reality, however, was that rather than march blindly forward to the death expected of them, soldiers feared the fate that awaited them, and yet attempted, like Tamura, to bravely mask that fear on the battlefield. The affront caused by accusations of selfishness force Tamura to re‐
examine his own conception of the ideology upon which he relies. I cannot trust my heart any more. What is loyalty for? What is self‐discipline for? 19 Here, it is clear that Tamura does not doubt the ideology, but rather his own level of insight into its meaning. Nevertheless, he quickly returns to the fold, resigning himself to the inevitable. Alas, every human life is destined to meet death. One must utilise one’s life fully until one dies. 20 That is the Yamato spirit (the Japanese spirit)! (sic) 17
“Report on Psychological Warfare” annex 3 “Answer to Japan” 11, ATIS, SWPA RR no 76 pt 3 “The Warrior Tradition as a Present Factor in Japanese Military Psychology” 6 as quoted in Gilmore, Allsion B, You Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare against the Japanese in the Southwest Pacific. 55. 18
ATIS, SWPA RR no 76 pt 3 “The Warrior Tradition as a Present Factor in Japanese Military Psychology” 6, as quoted in Ibid. 55. 19
Tamura 128 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 自己の心が信じられなくなった 何のための忠なりや 自操なりや ああ 20
Other soldiers recognized the same requirement to live good lives until their death. Soldier, Sakamaki Yutaka who died in South Korea in 1944, wrote 452
Everybody fears death. However, how can we use our death to maximum effect? 21 Ultimately, the dichotomy between selfless devotion to the cause and the internal desire for achievement for the self is able to be reconciled under the broader concept of yamato damashii and adherence to the kokutai. In spite of his resolve to accept what fate has in store, Tamura continues with a misguided sense of guilt at his own aspirations. “The Yamato spirit!” words the commander used got rid of any confusion in my mind. Yet, I wonder why I feel that I do not possess enough sense of aspiration. I am always conscious of the need for aspiration day and night. I wonder if this has overshadowed the sense of selfless devotion that I should have. I am in the Army now. I should never at any moment forget about the spirit of devotion, but my attention was misplaced. I have to remind myself again. 22 It is just and right for us to live our lives through to the end. To be right and just is natural for us as human beings And is a state most suited to the gentle and true/ sincere heart. Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Kinen‐kai, ed., Kike Wadatsumi no Koe. 61. 21
Tamura 129 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 人生の運命として必ず一死あり これの活用をおろそか故に大和 魂にもどる 死は万人恐れ ざるも この死を運用如何が 22
Tamura 129 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 大和魂ぞ 隊長の言は我の迷いをさます 453
The ever‐present, overwhelming power of the seken has brought deep shame on Tamura. 23 He feels, to use Berque’s words, the “object of attention, inspection and appraisal by others around.” 24 We also see how very alone Tamura actually is; there is no guide other than his righteous sense of selfless devotion to the kokutai. Tamura is convinced that he must relinquish his sense of self and concentrate on the “main‐line,” that of total loyalty to the Imperial cause and death in the Emperor’s name. In reconciling his life’s purpose with the requirements placed upon him by the kokutai, Tamura complies with the teachings of the Hagakure which state Bushidō is nothing but charging forward, without hesitation, unto death (shinigurui) [...] You must become like a person crazed (kichigai) and throw 唯 我を向上心なきと思う處 何故なりや 昼夜悶え居る この向上心 これが或いは滅私より上に出て 主線をこえていたのかも知れぬ 軍隊だ 一時もこの精神を 忘れて悪なき所に心の 主眼あり 心すべき 23
The extent of the seken power of shaming is evinced when Isolde Standish quotes tokkōtai pilot, Fukami, in the film Kumo nagaruru hate ni 23as saying “there is a force invisible to the eye steadily pulling us into our graves” (me ni mienai ōkina chikara ga, bokutachi o hakaba no naka e gungun, hikikonde iku n desu). Standish, Myth and Masculinity in the Japanese Cinema: Towards a Political Reading of the Tragic Hero. 74. 24
Berque, Augustin, "Identification of the Self in Relation to the Environment." 106. Berque contends that “This self‐awareness is labelled “kao”, “mentsu”, “taimen”, “menboku”, “teisai”, “sekentei”. These terms might be translated as honour, self‐esteem, dignity, reputation and the like, but such translations do not fully convey the self’s sensitivity to interactional immediacy and vulnerability entailed in the Japanese terms.” 454
yourself into it as if there were no turning back (shinigurui). Moreover, in the way of the martial arts, as soon as discriminating thoughts (funbetsu) arise, you have already fallen behind. 25 For Tamura, the discriminating thoughts are his inability to relinquish his sense of self, encapsulated in his personal shame at having his devotion brought into question. And this charge has been laid in spite of the fact that he is a loyal subject prepared to lay down his life. Returning to the Main Focus: The Final Effacement of Self In contrast to the irrational Imperial Japanese Army demand that soldiers relinquish all sense of personal self, David W Plath points out that “the human self is at once an individual, a mortal centre of initiative and integrity, and a person, a moral actor in society’s dramas.” 26 Tamura, too, was clearly an individual of integrity and initiative. He had been able throughout his brief but challenging life in New Guinea to motivate himself to stay within the limiting boundaries of adherence to the kokutai. Remaining 25
de Bary, Wm. Theodore, ed., Sources of East Asian Tradition, 2 vols., vol. 2. 279. de Bary’s translation varies from Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of Samurai. The equivalent to the cited passage is Ibid. 45. 26
Plath, David W., “Arc, Circle and Sphere: Schedules of Selfhood” in Sugimoto Yoshio and Mouer, Ross E ed. Constructs for Understanding Japan (London and New York: Kegan Paul, 1989). 72. 455
centred within the teachings of this discourse, however, demanded an effacement of Plath’s self as ordered by the senior ranks. My commander told me to discard my sense of self. His words sounded old‐
fashioned, but this should be the main focus. The main focus is supposed to remain the main focus. 27 The officer’s request to Tamura to discard his sense of self recalls the words of Sugimoto Gorō who wrote that the greatest mission of these components is to promote an awareness of the non‐existence of the self and the absolute nature of the Emperor. Because of the non‐existence of the self everything in the universe is a manifestation of the Emperor […]. Imperial subjects of Japan should not seek their own personal salvation. Rather, their goal should be the expansion of the Imperial power […]. In front of the Emperor, their self is empty. Within the unity of the sovereign and the people, the people must not value their self, but value the Emperor who embodies their self […]. Seeking nothing at all, you should simply completely discard both body and mind, and unite with the Emperor. 28 27
Tamura 129 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 隊長は私を捨てよと 古い言葉だけど主柱なり 主線は主線だ 28
Sugimoto Gorō, Taigi (Yokyo: Heibonsha, 1938). 23‐25, as translated by Victoria, Zen at War. 120. 456
Based on his response to the remonstrance of the senior officer, Tamura appears to have accepted this demand without question. Relinquishing the self requires Tamura to abandon the hope of making amends for his perceived lack of achievement in the past as well as to abandon any greater aspirations for the future. Loyalty to the cause can only mean living in the restrictive present. A person can show different attitudes to different people. I do not believe I belong to that category. As a member of the military I am proud that I am sincere with myself. The words the commander spoke unintentionally made me more eager to prove myself. I should accept the present. I believe that is the way we should live. 29 Contrary to Tamura’s words, however, there is underlying longing and regret that cannot be erased by his apparent robust enthusiasm towards the greater cause. In the 29
Tamura 129 –130 (translated by Keiko Tamura) 蔭のある人とならざる為に この点は現在とても表より裏の 方が心にあると思う位だから 蔭は少なきと信ず 軍人なり この精神に於て 動作の余り大きな点を 心すべき事と信ず 隊長の言は我の心を知るや 知らずや 大いに血となる處多し 現在に忠実なれ この点に生命あり 457
end, he must forsake his regrets at a life not fully lived in order to accept the approach of death. The Struggle to Live Well: Embracing the Shadow of Death The final pages of Tamura’s diary are testament to the chaos that war and the prospect of death inscribed on the writer’s thoughts. He vacillates between antagonism, resistance and resignation. In the milieu of death and destruction, antagonism towards the army’s officers and self‐deprecation lower Tamura’s resistance to the circumstances in which he finds himself. He is unable to settle old scores and remains troubled by aspirations for the future which are futile and unachievable. Eventually, he accepts that the best way for him to live well in the shadow of a certain death is to embrace that prospect. This simple decision can be compared with the words of a fellow soldier who wrote If I did continue to live, perhaps I could become a full‐fledged person who would be able to accomplish some good work. Then again, it is possible that I could end up being just an ordinary person. To die as a bud, and without even showing a petal, i.e. blossoming out as a flower does, may itself be a 458
form of existence. Finally, the only thing left for me to do is to die as the gods command. 30 Even though this soldier’s circumstances as a condemned prisoner‐of‐war facing execution differed from Tamura’s, he too commits his life to a higher authority. In spite of the fact that neither man has been permitted to “show a petal” and thereby make their desired contribution to life, commitment to the command for death is the only viable option. Whether or not it is the privations of the war‐zone that have contributed to his resilience, Tamura has become a stronger person who is able to endure against all odds the difficulties encountered in the South. Ironically, his stoic response to these privations is proof that he has achieved the noble and glorious status that he has craved throughout his diary. War makes people incredibly strong. Endurance of all kinds of hardships, the fear for our lives, our material desires, all are in the hands of Heaven. The character of a people who can keep on fighting with calm smiles in the face of acute privation can be thought of, at the extreme level, as the commitment of a holy man. 30
Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Kinenkai, ed., Listen to the Voices from the Sea (Kike Wadatsumi no Koe). 282. Hisao Kimura born 1918, entered Kyoto Imperial University, executed as a war criminal in Changi 1946, aged 28. 459
A life of faith in the Empire and death for the Emperor are indeed dedication to the grand, timeless cause that we follow. 31 For Tamura, battle in the name of the Emperor is comparable to a religious life. 32 Sugimoto Gorō likened the Imperial Japanese Army model to holy officers and holy soldiers. These men should be devoid of “self‐attachment” and thus able to “revere the Emperor absolutely.” 33 In the passage above Tamura returns to the teachings of the kokutai as the one constant for him, the core, in a sense, that provides the strength to endure. 31
Tamura 135 戦争は人間を何處迄も強く する あらゆる困苦をしのぎ 生命に対する危惧も物欲も 総てが唯天の知る所なり 何がなくとも平然として笑って 戦って行ける民族の性を 益々伸長して聖者の心境 たらしむ 皇国の信念に生き天皇陛下 の為に死す事こそ我等の願う 悠久の大義に生くるものである 32
Fujii Tadatoshi, Heitachi no Sensō. 286. Fujii states that the term “holy soldiers” or “war heroes” (gunshin) gained currency around the start of the Russo Japanese War, but that it in fact related mainly to those who had actually died in the service of war, rather than as merely soldiers of the Empire. 33
As quoted in Victoria, Zen at War. 120. 460
In our life of more than half a year at the battlefront, a life unimaginable to cultured people, we have achieved a mental state transcending privation, breaking its shackles, surely man’s highest achievement. (29 August) 34 Tamura takes pride in achieving the spiritual depth and strength to survive in a shockingly devastated environment where he has absolutely nothing. This is in contrast to those “cultured people” 35 who cannot survive without all the trappings of cultured society. Tamura and his comrades on the battlefield are like holy men owning nothing, dedicating themselves to a higher spiritual cause and prepared to fight a “war without mercy” 36 to defend that cause. This for him is, indeed, his highest achievement. The entry above has particular significance since it indicates that Tamura has now been able to transcend the challenges he faced within himself as a person who, by his own harsh self‐assessment, has little education or cultural finesse. This recalls Augustin Berque who referred to the “the boundless self” as follows, 34
Tamura 135 戦線半歳有余の生活は 文化人の想像し得ざる様な 生活にもかかわらす我等は 唯なければ無いで通ずる心境を 体得し不自由とせざる所 確かに人生の最大の収穫なり 35
（八月二九日） Tamura perhaps refers here to those people who have in fact formulated the rules under which he as a soldier must now exist. 36
This is a reference to the title of John Dower’s War without Mercy. 461
the moral emphasis upon the inferiority of the self leads to “spiritualism” aiming at the triumph of the spirit over the material world, of mind over matter, the heart over technology […] The inner self [during wartime] was a fountain of strength, energy, and perseverance independent of external resources. 37 Tamura’s experience on the battlefield has paradoxically made it possible for him to now find some sense of peace with his station in life. Having finally recognised his own inner strength, Tamura can reconcile himself to the unfamiliar natural surrounds and the deprivation and the physical hardships of New Guinea. He thereupon, for the first time in his diary, recalls his school days. Unlike his recollections of China, this memory does not encourage him with the prospect of glory in battle or a noble death, but rather returns him to his childhood and aspirations for a life well‐lived. We recall that Tamura was torn between a desire to continue with schooling and the obligations to carry on the work of the family farm. 1 September Here at the extremity of the Southern battlefront, with what joy I would have read a letter from my teacher. I would only be able to let him know a miniscule of how I feel about the hell we are in here. 38 37
Berque, "Identification of the Self in Relation to the Environment." 113. 38
Tamura 138 南方戦線の果に先生の便り どんなに嬉しく読んだ事か 状況も最悪で思う万分の一しか 462
In his final days, when air raids have become more intense and undoubtedly food and supplies were increasingly scarce, 39 Tamura places his experiences in a tragic global context It is the curse of the world culture, which we don’t know and can’t even imagine, against which we are striving. I don’t know whether I will live to go back to my old school or not. I enjoy my breaks in this utterly devastated battlefield with thoughts of the people at home. In my memories I recognize my hometown in a book. Here on the battlefront I take up my gun. 40 Here, at last, while mention of a gun confirms Tamura’s military role, thoughts of the Emperor have slipped away, replaced by the warmth of home and the familiar. Until this point, memories of school and home have been interspersed throughout the diary with しらす事しか出来ぬ 39
The prospects for Japan regaining the balance of air power were completely dashed on 17 August, 1943, with the loss of approximately 100 Japanese aircraft. Bombing attacks intensified around Wewak from that time on. http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/26de8347ac6e7658ca256da3002479e5/6fdc30e8806ec7d9ca256b
73000e4618?OpenDocument 40
Tamura 138 我等の想像もせぬ未知の 世界文化の崇り そしてその競争だ 生きて再び母校にまみいる 時ぞあるや 銃後の様を思い浮かべて 何一つない戦陣の余暇を 楽しむ 想い出に故郷の様ぞ文にみる 我戦線に今銃を取る 463
a personal sense of failure. Now, however, Tamura projects forward to an impossible future that will allow him to rectify the mistakes of his past. I will dedicate my whole life to making sure my children and grandchildren do not go through the same things as me. With these thoughts, I finally decided, rather than being resentful, to think about my ruined past seriously, and pledge my utmost efforts to the future. 41 The final stages of Tamura’s diary reveal a man who has acknowledged his failings, accepted his fate, and who, therefore, experiences a sense of peace and resignation, yet still underpinned by a quiet longing for an impossible future which will see him become an old man living life peacefully with family around him. Under the Spirit of Yamato damashii Living as a child of the gods, my destiny will be strong. 42 41
Tamura 122 全生命を子孫に打ち込んで必ず 我の二の舞を踏まざる様 自分で思いつつ遂悲憤やる方 なく敗れた人生の過去を しみじみと思って発奮を誓う 42
Tamura 122 神の子として生きる時 我の天運又強きならん 464
These words define Tamura’s resignation. He has accepted the teachings of the kokutai, and is confident that as long as he lives well within its boundaries, he will be granted a fulfilling and satisfying destiny. Tamura’s acknowledgement of his Imperial obligations does not negate the fact that he longs to return to Japan alive. He is torn between what Nishikawa Yūko argues is his ultimate duty to the Emperor and his own desire for achievement on a personal level. 43 For Tamura the two have not been mutually exclusive, however, and finally the fate of both his commitment and his future prospects are left to a higher being. My desperate struggle to survive, Its ultimate futility, I put on record here. Fate decides all. From now on I will make my life stronger, Obey orders from Heaven and become a man. 44 43
Nishikawa, “Hito wa Naze Nikki wo Tsuzuru no ka?” 201. 44
Tamura 122 生きよう生きようとして努力して 遂その甲斐なくここに記す 運命と言えば終わりだ 人生はこれから強くなれ 天命を奉じて男なれ 465
The struggle that has persisted for Tamura is finally resolved by prioritising the will of “Heaven.” Paradoxically, it is the acceptance of direction from a higher spiritual power that will make Tamura a man. While Tamura began the entry examined above by resolving to do his best to ensure that future generations are spared his own trials, as he writes a slippage occurs so that he concludes by transferring that resolve into dedication to the Emperor and the State. He commits himself, firstly, to do his utmost to succeed as a soldier, and, secondly, should he survive, to do his utmost as a parent and citizen. “Doing his utmost” is the significant concept here, because as we have seen, Tamura recognises this as the core of yamato damashii. For him there is no conflict between the demands on him of Japan’s military project, grossly compromised as it may now be, and the demands of civilian life. Accepting Death: The Final Act of Loyalty With total commitment to the greater cause, Tamura now single‐mindedly devotes himself to the successful undertaking of what he believes is a “Just War.” His second last entry, written in a period when his unit has undoubtedly been the target of relentless air attacks, displays firm resignation. Rather than the metaphors of his previous almost 466
desperate attempts to motivate himself, there is now a determined recognition of the reality of the situation. “On the Sea” Tonight again, on the calm sea, the waves are glistening under the light of the moon. The tops of the palm trees sway in the gentle breeze. The evening clouds are billowing on the distant horizon. The sea is quiet. 45 Here, the peacefulness of nature is striking. Tamura describes what appears to be a serene scene on a ravaged battlefield. He begins with a very vivid description of an ironically calm sea, lit by the pure and cleansing moon. The tranquility of the scene belies the fierceness of the decisive battle about to finally determine Tamura’s fate. This serenity mirrors Tamura’s now calm state of mind. The sea he now reflects upon is part of a tranquil, almost nurturing, scene replete with rustling palm trees and the pure light of a serene moon. When we recall the earlier stirring visions of the robust, invigorating Black Current which conveyed a sense of purpose and impending glory, his final words become even more poignant. 45
Tamura 142 海上にて 今宵も静かな海上に月光さいて 小波がきらきらと輝いている そよ吹く風に椰子の梢がゆれる 夕立雲がはるか水平線にもくもくと 伸びている 海は静かだ 467
Tamura no longer requires official language to kindle his desire to die gloriously on behalf of the Empire. The calm sea is no longer the sea which became the alien and enemy force that devoured his friend. Rather, it is a sea of composure, of resignation; it is a metaphor for his soul, now calm and quiet. Paradoxically, as the billowing clouds portend, the sea is also the battleground and will become the site of his inevitable end. This very sea is the decisive battle ground of the fierce conflict between Japan and America. Unbelievable that we are here at the far reaches of the South Seas, here on the vast ocean lit up by the moon. Aah, today is the 8th of December, a day replete with significance, which we must commemorate for all eternity, the day, two years ago, when on this night in this month, one hundred million kindred souls with fierce determination decided to smash the inordinate ambitions of the American‐British alliance. 46 46
Tamura 142 これが 日米のしのぎをけずる決戦場 南海の果とは中々信じられぬ様だ 月が出ている海原である ああ今日は思い出も深き十二月八日 二年前の今月今夜 我等一億同志 米英の非望を破砕せんと決然と 立ち上がった永久に記念すべき日 468
Although he cannot have known for sure that he would die, Tamura foretells the importance of the battle in which he will be engaged, and reflects on his role in New Guinea as being part of a greater cause. The ultimate quest throughout his diary has been a desire for a noble end, and aligning himself now with the attack on Pearl Harbour two years previously makes Tamura feel triumphant, despite his inglorious circumstances. As we have seen, even in the dire circumstances in which he finds himself (or perhaps in spite of them), without contact and in an alien environment where he surely now writes only for himself, he continues to draw strength from his ability to be an integral and significant contributor to the Imperial cause, reflecting Druckman’s concepts of ego and goal involvement in the national project. 47 Remaining immersed in the ideology that has nurtured him throughout his turmoil in New Guinea, Tamura is now as prepared as he can ever be for what fate has in store. The sound of waves that “slap” against the rocks disturbingly heralds the end that will not be long in coming 47
Druckman, "Nationalism, Patriotism, and Group Loyalty.” 63. 469
Communications told us we must be on our guard. Through the sound of the waves slapping against the rocks and the distant flashes of thunder, I stood tensely guard, nerves quivering. 48 About to participate in what he knows is a decisive battle, strained and tense, he does not shirk from the heavy weight of impending death. But, as ever, there remains in his heart a grief‐stricken yearning for the home from which he is separated by the vast expanse of ocean whose waves lap at the New Guinea shore. In this distant, relentless battlefield, I just silently take up my gun. Yonder across these waves are the homeland that I love, the friends that I long for. 49 The unspoken undertone of the text is deep regret at the fact that there is little likelihood of being united the longed for friends. Although he will never return to Japan, in the very last entry of the diary Tamura reveals that he has finally resolved the tension between his personal desires and his public role. With this resolution, death can be accepted despite his personal regrets. 48
Tamura 142 通信にて警戒を厳にすべしと 来る岩に打ち寄す波音もはるか に遠く雷明も鋭い神経に見のがさじと心眼をみはる 49
Tamura 142 この遠い戦線に何の慰みもなく唯黙々と銃を取る この海の彼方に懐かしい故郷がある 470
This is the way to die manfully, heroically and graciously. It is the acceptance of death in whatever form it may come. Anticipating the arrival of the enemy, the entry is a contradictory mix of fear in anticipation of the forthcoming Allied onslaught, and hope at the possibility of life‐saving supplies of food and ammunition. However, these are just my wandering thoughts. The British and Americans, undaunted by their devastation, will very soon boldly land. I stand staring at the ocean till my eyes hurt. Are they coming? Why is it that I have no fear of the Yankees’ worst? My heart dances with the rumbling advance of the provisions trucks for our troops. Ah, everything’s going well, I feel relieved. 50 Tamura’s desire to remain under the thrall of what Dower described as “victory disease” 51 is palpable in his dogged determination to continue the quest of the one hundred million (ichioku isshin lit. one hundred million, one mind) 52 souls of the Yamato race to counter with one mind the onslaught of the British‐American alliance. Tamura, 50
Tamura 143 唯それは思いにすぎず目前には 八つ裂きしたとて飽きたらぬ米英が けなげにも上陸せんとしているが 目が痛む程に海上をにらんで立つ 来るかャンキー 覚悟を前に何 恐るる事なきも何故かしら胸踊る 友軍の糧秣輸送の大発がごとごとと 行く ああ 状況は楽だと幾分 安心す。 51
Dower, John, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II (New York: Norton & Co, 1999). 22. 52
Earhart, Certain Victory. 490. 471
too, has become a prisoner of the Japanese war rhetoric “of holy war, death before dishonour […] the inviolability of the Emperor‐centred ‘national polity’” 53 and most importantly “the immanence of a decisive battle that would turn the tide against […] and stay the ‘demonic’ Anglo‐Americans.” 54 Under the dire circumstances in which he is now embroiled, the diarist’s continued return to the ideology of the kokutai reveals that “in his effort to transcend the present given reality‐ he shows […] the personal (or collective) impulse informing his act.” 55 In spite of, or even because of, Tamura’s recognition of the destructive power of the Allies, he is encouraged by the advance of supply trucks for the Japanese troops. In the concluding words of the final entry, we see that Tamura has resigned himself to his environment. By embracing the New Guinea battleground, the writer becomes one, as theorised by Watsuji, with the environment. The once searing heat of the day is now compensated by the evening cool. Even the crocodiles that glide by the men are no longer to be feared. The call of the island bird is soothing and familiar, advising Tamura of the new day about to break. 53
Dower, Embracing Defeat. 22. 54
Ibid. 22. 55
Harootunian, Harry D, "Commentary on Nationalism in Japan: Nationalism as Intellectual History," The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 1 (1971). 59. 472
It’s almost a year since my departure for the front. Here in the South Seas where the days are always hot, the nights feel cool. Crocodiles come swimming up to the sentry. Even though we are exposed to the enemy planes all day, our guard remains firm. Have we survived again tonight? The island birds call and let us know that day is about to break. One of my friends stretches himself with an “ah”, perhaps relieved at his survival. The relief sentry comes. Somehow I feel at peace, as if I have fulfilled my responsibility. This is life on the battlefield, day after day. The end. 56 There is a sense of relief at surviving yet another night of relentless enemy attack. Yet the peace that Tamura feels is based on much more than lasting another day. Tamura is able to reconcile himself to the inevitability of his death, and accept that even, or especially, in his current dire circumstances, death will be his greatest achievement. 56
Tamura 143 早出征以来一年 明けくれに暑いこの南海も夜は 涼しい様に思う。歩哨の前に わにが泳いで来たり 一日中敵機の 前にさらされても守りは堅し 今宵も無事か 島の鶏がなく 夜明けの近きを知らす。一人の友は安心 したのか、ああと背伸びをする。交代の歩哨が来た。 何となく自分の責任を果し得た様に心が軽くなる 戦場の生活はこうして一日一日と 送られて行く 完 Tamura completed the entries his pages 68 and 105 respectively with 以上 and 完. In the current entry, however, his use of the term 完 may, in fact, indicate his final recognition of his fate. 473
Transported to an alien, unwelcoming and physically and psychologically hostile environment, Tamura’s ideas, beliefs and sense of commitment have been reinforced by that very environment. In the end, the controlled becomes the controller. Through nothing short of super‐human effort, Tamura rises above the circumstances in which he finds himself to fulfil his responsibility to the Emperor, to the kokutai, and, most poignantly, to himself. He is finally at one with his surroundings. 474
Conclusion The preceding discussion has demonstrated the manner in which the narrative of the diary of Tamura Yoshikazu revealed the pervasive and deep influence on the diarist’s psyche of the social discourses of Imperial Japan, which I refer to collectively as the kokutai. By examining the way in which the discourse informed Tamura’s diary, this thesis has shown that the dictates of the kokutai became the inspiration for Tamura to face his impending death as a loyal soldier of Imperial Japan. The diarist’s recoding of nature and memories, together with his re‐imagining the alien landscape into something more familiar, enabled him to accept the death that the kokutai required. In his 2006 thesis, Aaron Moore quoted Charles Dickens who wrote “All swindlers on the earth are nothing to the self‐swindlers [and] with such pretences did I cheat myself.” 1 Moore raises the question as to whether Japanese soldier diarists are indeed self‐swindlers, the subjectivity that they express through their diaries being almost totally composed through the state sanctioned discourses. The panopticon‐like society of Imperial Japan had ensured, through Imperial rescripts, education practices, neighbourhood associations, patriotic women’s organisations and the aggressive 1
Dickens, Charles “Great Expectations” Chapter 28 as quoted in Moore, "The Peril of Self‐Discipline.” 329. 475
training of the military, that soldiers would in fact be well versed in the ubiquitous teachings of the kokutai. From children singing militaristic songs at school, to youth associations training young farm boys in military techniques, to rationing for soldiers at the front, the daily life of Japanese citizens was focused on the requirement to work hard and fight hard for the Greater Japanese Empire. As Moore recognises “the individual faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles to maintaining some degree of self‐autonomy.” 2 Analysing Tamura’s diary allowed me to uncover those aspects of the socio‐political teachings that towered over Imperial Japan before its defeat on 15 August, 1945 and that particularly influenced the diarist. As we suggested in this thesis, perhaps Tamura’s initial purpose for keeping a diary “was simply a reflection of the importance in which the genre has been held in Japanese literature for over a thousand years.” 3 The original diary is now housed in the family’s Buddhist altar, supporting the notion that “even if [he] were to perish, the diary might be retrieved to become a relic of the departed.” 4 However, with contact from the homeland severed, it is clear that the diary became an outlet for Tamura to self‐motivate in the face of certain death in an alien war‐zone. 2
Ibid. 329. 3
4
Clarke, "Walls, Physical and Ideological, and a Soldier's Diary." 114. Ibid. 114. 476
Chapter One demonstrated that diary writing, as part of not only the military tradition, but communication practices over time, provided Tamura with both an outlet for his emotions and a means of motivating himself in his quest to die a noble death. While in the early stages of the diary, Tamura expresses his desire for his father to read his words, we have noted that ultimately, isolated and seeing his comrades die, the most important reader became Tamura himself. For Tamura, the prospect of reading the diary later in life ‐ which Tomoko Aoyama argues is a rationale for diary writing – was severely limited. However, in his immediate environment, reading his own inspirational words that reflected the overarching discourse, would have served to motivate Tamura. While there may have been little likelihood that Tamura would have the opportunity to reflectively read the diary later in life, it is likely that expressing his thoughts in prose and verse and reading back over this material gave solace and inspiration at a time when all else was lost. The willingness of Tamura, and soldiers like him, to lay down their lives for the Emperor, particularly in the dire circumstances that prevailed in the New Guinea war‐zone, begs the question as to the rationale driving their actions. We have noted how Tamura Yoshikazu left Japan on his second call‐up full of anticipation at the prospect of a glorious and noble death as a soldier of the Emperor. Since its emergence 477
in the Meiji era, the kokutai discourse had focused on the requirement of the sacrifice of life. Chapter Two demonstrated that this overarching discourse was conveyed to soldiers and other subjects of the Empire by way of Imperial Rescripts, education, and social manipulation. Kang Sangjung’s assertion that the kokutai had become a “non‐
religious religion” could explain Tamura’s fervent reliance on its teachings in the diary. Bereft of all other forms of support, the kokutai provided Tamura with a framework which helped to give some meaning to the insanity of the New Guinea battle‐ground. Tamura quickly overcame the numbing of the senses, identified in soldiers by both Kano Masanao and Yasuko Claremont, which he exhibited by his laissez‐faire attitude during some bombing raids, and recovered a sense of purpose by re‐aligning himself to the official discourses. If the weft of the kokutai discourse was the sinister expectation of death and the total relinquishment of self, then the warp was the sublimely unique nature of Japan. Chapter Three described the conditions that would potentially rupture a sense of familiar. As was demonstrated, the isolation of New Guinea at a time when Japan’s fortunes at war were waning resulted in a deficiency in food, and particularly familiar food, but more harrowing for the diarist was the lack of contact from home. The all pervasive longing that lack of social connectedness aroused in the writer permeates the 478
diary. However, as was shown, Tamura remained adept in re‐motivating and consoling himself, as evidenced by the selective recording of letters and other forms of media in his diary. The strategies undertaken by the diarist as outlined in Chapter Four to compensate for the lack of communication with home feature two revealing characteristics. Firstly, Tamura’s recording of letters to his brother Sadanobu and his friend Eiji exhibit a self‐censorship on the part of the diarist. Given the lack of transport for mail at that time, it was highly unlikely that those letters were ever mailed, but Tamura’s guarded representation of the dire circumstances of the New Guinea war‐zone reveal his compliance with the requirements to remain a loyal soldier. Other letters which were recorded from external sources such as magazines clearly provided the diarist with a sense of a shared familiar – of shared beliefs and experiences of the socio‐
historical features of militarised Japan. Furthermore, Tamura also assuaged his desire for close personal relationships, a desire which, by now, were completely untenable, by recording letters to and from anonymous women. By creating his own form of communication, Tamura was able momentarily to escape into the warmth that social connection and communication, so noticeably absent from his diary, would provide. 479
Diasporic studies have shown that displacement frequently produces the need to recreate familiar environment, be that landscape, amenities, belief systems, language or lifestyle. Communities that thrive outside their ancestral homelands often do so by replicating landscape and amenities which more closely reflect the heimlich for them and operation of nostalgia is inherent in this process. In the case of the diarist, Tamura, it has been shown that his displacement from the familiar not only kindled a deep nostalgia, but also, given the strength of the trope of nature in the discourse of the kokutai, had the potential of destroying his commitment as a soldier. Chapter Five examined the strategies employed by Tamura to evoke the uniqueness of Japan’s landscape. The diarist employed time honoured seasonal markers to achieve a re‐visioning of his environment to more closely reflect his ancestral clime. This is a revealing process, providing the reader with deep insights into Tamura’s emotional state during his military service in New Guinea. Tamura enjoyed writing poetry and was undoubtedly aware of the significance of season markers in verse. His emphasis on the symbols of autumn, a season absent from the wet and not so wet climate of New Guinea, expressed the melancholy and longing present also in the works of poets such as Buson and Bashō. Nature, that is, the sublime nature of Japan, was one of the cornerstones of the kokutai, and refiguring the New Guinea landscape allowed 480
Tamura two vital emotional outlets: to express sadness in traditional ways, and to receive strength from the grandeur of physical features such as mountains. The diary provides evidence of Tamura’s love of mountains and mountain climbing, and perhaps the only feature of the New Guinea landscape which evoked memories without the need for re‐visioning was the mountains. The struggle to traverse the mountains of New Guinea on foot, laden with supplies, would have required a mammoth effort, and yet Tamura was elated not only by the grandeur of the mountains, but also by his own ability to conquer them. Soldiers were undoubtedly discouraged by the prospect of such a daunting manoeuvre, and yet, this was a task for which Tamura longed. This geographical element not only allowed Tamura to reminisce about more pleasurable climbs in Japan, but also to indulge in the praise of the iconic Mt Fuji, which served for him as a symbol of the strength and courage. If the mountains evoked memories of home, the moon created a sense of continuity for the diarist who was greatly comforted by memories of past viewings of the moon in the night sky. Lighting the skies of Korea and North China, the moon was the one constant that remained unchanged no matter Tamura’s location or circumstances. Usually obscured by the canopy of the jungle in New Guinea, the moon was an elusive but much sought after travelling companion. 481
As we saw in Chapter Three, the claustrophobic aspects of the dark and prison‐like jungle played havoc with the psyche of many soldiers in New Guinea, Japanese and Allies alike. Tamura’s longing for any chance to view the moon was coupled with an intense desire for the clear skies of North China, and of his homeland Japan. This is understandable, not only in view of the restrictive atmosphere of the jungle, but also when considered against the vista of the open sky to be seen Tamura’s family home, even today. In New Guinea, the combination of the moon and the open sky (however intermittently seen) formed the backdrop for Tamura to be able to reconfigure the terrible battle scenes of air attacks and bombings into a beautiful, yet surreal landscape. Nature again provided the tools for Tamura to re‐vision his reality. The Japanese proverb “to die like the carp on the cutting board” (sōjō no koi) 5 conjures up a resigned and passive determination to die unquestioningly. From the early stages of his diary, we saw that Tamura was committed to the requirement to die on behalf of the Emperor. However, in order to comply with that demand, Tamura was compelled to find a motivating force to assist him in this ultimate sacrifice. The overarching power of seken – that invisible societal and personal judge – played a significant role in often silently, but always effectively, convincing soldiers to acquiesce 5
Ohnuki‐Tierney, Kamikaze Diaries. 60. 482
to the requirement of death. Furthermore, the pride associated with being able to die as a soldier on behalf of the Emperor was far more attractive than the shame of defeat, capture, or “dying a dog’s death.” Chapter Six revealed that Tamura was able to draw upon the lofty promises of the kokutai to motivate him on his trajectory towards his fate in what now promised to be an ignoble death in a harsh and alien war‐zone. By empowering himself with the notion that death was “man’s true calling,” Tamura could align himself with the power of Japan’s earlier conquests. His narrative and poetry were permeated by the motifs of young sakura going off to die symbolically as shields for the Emperor. Again, aspects of nature contributed to Tamura’s narrative and, as this chapter revealed, the diarist’s record of crossing the Black Current instilled a sense of the mystical nobility and power of the grand mission of the Imperial project, so absent from his lowly role in New Guinea. Remembering his crossing of that symbolic boundary which signalled the conquest of the rest of Asia made Tamura feel he was a “child of the sea,” one of the pervasive slogans of Imperial Japan. One of the underlying requirements of the kokutai was the expectation that all loyal subjects would relinquish any sense of self. However, as Chapter Seven revealed, in spite of his commitment to the kokutai, Tamura was tormented by a strong desire for achievement on a more personal and individual level. At times Tamura was 483
troubled by his lack of achievement in the life he had led outside the army. We recall that Tamura had followed ambitions away from the family farm, yet he recognised in his diary that even in that pursuit, he had only achieved on a very small scale. Becoming a soldier for the Imperial cause had afforded him the opportunity for accomplishment, and yet, as a second term soldier, he felt only disappointment at his lowly non‐
combatant role. Moreover, In New Guinea he felt he was denied participation in the noble cause of emancipating the peoples of Asia. New Guinea seemed not amenable to nor indeed did such “emancipation” seem relevant. The local inhabitants, initially a source of curiosity, became ultimately a source of envy at their ability to survive, albeit in a primitive way, in this inhospitable, totally uncivilised and emotionally unsettling landscape. Although death had been the underscoring requirement of the kokutai, it is indeed the death of comrade soldiers which caused the greatest outpouring of personal emotion for Tamura. While the kokutai required death, it had not provided Tamura with adequate means to deal with the overwhelming and debilitating grief he suffered at the death of his comrades. We have noted that there is a dearth of information in Tamura’s diary regarding friendships created during his time as a soldier in New Guinea. In fact, he appears, throughout his narrative, to have led a solitary 484
existence. Notwithstanding this, he was unable to extricate himself from the deep emotional mire into which the ignoble deaths of his fellow soldiers plunged him. Deaths such as theirs, so far removed from the noble and heroic deaths of the tragic heroes promised by the kokutai, aggravated in Tamura the tension between his dedication to die on behalf of the Emperor and his own need for achievement as an individual. Chapter Eight demonstrated that a recommitment to the constraining dictates of the kokutai discourse enabled Tamura to reconcile his desires with the ultimate fact that he would die on the shores of New Guinea as a soldier of the Empire. The rekindling of the diarist’s desire to remain within the “goal involvement” of the soldiers of Japan to smash the British‐American alliance, was, as we have seen, ironically prompted by the actions of one of the military hierarchy. The unfair abuse and shaming levelled at Tamura triggered his return to the “main‐line,” that is, total devotion to the cause of death on behalf of the Emperor. Ultimately, he consigned all aspirations outside of this requirement to his “sub‐line.” Relinquishing the encumbrance of longing for an irreparable past and an unachievable personal aspiration for the future, Tamura was able to embrace his obligations to the kokutai, and thereby accept the final act of loyalty in death. 485
The original title of this thesis was “Reluctant Soldiers,” because I believed – or perhaps hoped – that not all soldiers would have willingly sacrificed their lives on behalf of Japan’s great cause. However, my belief had been influenced by reading the works of sengoha (post war) writers such as Ōoka Shōhei and Umezaki Haruo. Their “reluctance” as soldiers could be attributed to “sensōsekinin” (war guilt), “kyodatsu” (exhaustion and despair) 6 as a result of defeat in war, and even survivor remorse. Writing retrospectively, the sengoha writers ‐ especially those who had been soldiers ‐
were most likely affected by the disastrous outcome of the war for Japan, as well as their experiences in it. As this thesis revealed, there was no concept of defeat in Tamura’s diary. Right till the very end, Tamura’s commitment to and belief in Japan’s war remained intact. Tamura’s dire circumstances in the war‐zone were conducive to introspection and provided an opportunity for the diarist to consider the alternatives to the public discourse. In fact, the imminence of death could be expected to cause Tamura to reveal whether the diarist, in Foucault’s words, was “really declaiming brave sentiments or whether [he] really [felt] them.” 7 My analysis of the Tamura’s diary concludes that, in fact, not only did Tamura feel these sentiments, they were his ultimate guide and 6
7
Dower, Embracing Defeat. 88‐89. Foucault, Michel, Ethics, ed. Paul Rainbow (New York: The New Press, 1997). 105. 486
nurture towards a death that he firmly accepted would be on behalf of the Emperor of Japan, and the great cause espoused by the Japanese Empire. While the ideology had undoubtedly cultivated – or even acculturated – Tamura, he himself recoded his world to ensure that even in the most alien of circumstances, he would remain within its confines to the end. Tamura Yoshikazu did not die like the carp, nor was he “awed to silence by [the] invisible eye [of seken].” 8 In fact, it was Tamura’s belief in the kokutai that enabled him to remain a loyal subject of Japan. The diarist, Tamura, did not privately condemn the kokutai discourse, nor, on the other hand, was he a “self‐swindler.” Tamura not only acted within the confines of the kokutai, but the sublimity of its discourse gave him his strength of resolve. Benedict Anderson argued that connections which linked people together did not “have to be historically ‘true’, they simply need[ed] to be psychologically real.” 9 Ultimately, Tamura inscribed in himself a “power relationship” 10 with the kokutai enabling him to voluntarily reconcile his sense of self with the state’s requirements. 8
Bozovic, Miran, ed., The Panopticon Writings: Jeremy Bentham (London & New York: Verso, 1995). 18. 9
Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities. 53. 10
Foucault, Discipline and Punish. 202. 487
Rather than a “reluctant” soldier, Tamura Yoshikazu was an obviously thoughtful, artistic and sensitive young man who plumbed the depths of his own feelings and emotions when thrown into such an abominable world. Despite the inevitability of the prospect of a less than glorious death, the last page of the diary clearly reveals Tamura’s total commitment to the state discourse. Translating and engaging with this final page was, for me, the most difficult task of this thesis. It was not the most linguistically complex section of the diary, but it was ultimately the most revealing and certainly the most poignant. Reflecting on his mission on the shores of the hell‐hole that was the New Guinea battlefield, one solitary soldier confirmed his deep belief in an ideology that had provided him the motivation to sacrifice his life. Living within its all encompassing shadow and drawing on its strength to reinforce his resolve, Tamura was finally able to find peace with himself, become one with his environment, and accept the privilege of dying on behalf of his country. In his own words, it was, indeed, the end. 488
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Takamura at Nassau Bay AWM ATIS CT 9 AWM ATIS CT 64 (713) Diary of an Unknown Soldier AWM ATIS CT 116 (1279) Diary of an Unknown Soldier AWM ATIS CT 1 (38) Diary of an Unknown Soldier AWM ATIS CT 98 (1071) Diary of Ide Ninja AWM ATIS CT 28 (348) Diary of Wada Kiyoshi AWM ATIS CT 47 Messages and Directions to Troops from Japanese Commander in New Guinea, Maj‐General Yamagata Tsuyuo, Commander of the Buna Detachment 17 December, 1942 AWM ATIS CT 72 (826) pp41‐2 Moto Intelligence Report AWM ATIS CT 14 (177) Diary of an Unknown Soldier AWM ATIS CT 57 (663) Diary of Kawano Susumu AWM ATIS CT 140 (1480) Diary of Komatsu Rokuzo AWM ATIS CT 111 (1225) Diary of Kuroki Toshio AWM Enemy Publications AWM ATIS EP 80 AWM Interrogation Reports AWM IR No 269 (1845) AWM ATIS IR No 87 Serial 144 Kato Kumio AWM ATIS IR No 207 Serial No 307 AWM ATIS IR No 230A Serial No 345 p9 AWM ATIS IR 90 Serial 95 Hosoda Tetsuo, p12 AWM ATIS IR No 71 Serial 122 p8 Yamakami, Y AWM South Pacific Area and Force Headquarters of the Commander IR No 354 AWM ATIS IR No 286 Serial No 422 AWM ATIS IR No 211 Serial 317 p7 AWM ATIS IR No 30 Serial 42 Ishiguro Kiyoshi AWM ATIS IR No 183 AWM ATIS IR No 141 Serial 220 AWM ATIS 1958 IR No 610A Serial 746 Brief of Interrogation Report. Propaganda Letter Voluntarily Written by PWJA (USA) 100275 503
AWM ATIS IR No 120 AWM ATIS IR No 254 Serial 380 AWM ATIS IR No 229 Serial 343 AWM ATIS IR No 122 "Antagonism between officers and men in the Japanese Armed Forces." 19 April 1945 AWM ATIS IR 147 Serial No 229 Uyehara, T AWM Research Reports AWM ATIS SWPA RR No 76 pt 2 "The Emperor Cult as a Present Factor in Japanese Military Psychology" p 6 AWM ATIS SWPA RR No 76 Pt 3 "The Warrior Tradition as a Present Factor in Japanese Military Psychology" p 6 AWM ATIS RR 40 "Japanese Army Postal Service" (4 October 1943) [Information Request Report, Serial No 79] CICSPF CICPF TCJD Item 1353 Comments on Spiritual Training Far Eastern Liaison Office (FELO) Land Headquarters (AWM 94) AWM FELO Box C 514 Undated "Read This Only and the War is Won." Web Sites Carter, Robert. "Watsuji Tetsurō." In The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, edited by Zalta, Edward N, http://plato.stanford.edu/ 2009 Copyright (C) Translation: Yamagishi Katsuei "I am a Child of the Sea." http://jiten.cside3.jp/Warewa%20Uminoko.html Frei, Henry. "Why the Japanese Were in New Guinea." Paper presented at the Remembering the War in New Guinea, Canberra 2004. http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/AJRP/remember.nsf/03e59ce3d4a5028dca256afb002a4ab9/d8
79e4837e327092ca256a99001b7456?OpenDocument NHK Archives. "Saigo no kotoba." http://archives.nhk.or.jp, http://archives.nhk.or.jp/chronicle/B10002200090308160030137 Shindō Hiroyuki. "Japanese Air Operations over New Guinea during the Second World War." http://www.awm.gov.au/journal/j34/shindo.asp Sugita Satoshi. ""Cherry Blossoms and Rising Sun: A Systematic and Objective Analysis of Gunka 504
(Japanese War Songs)"." Ohio State University, http://etd.ohiolink.edu/send‐
pdf.cgi/Sugita%20Satoshi.pdf?osu1170788993 Tamura Keiko. "Tamura Diary Transcripts." Australia Japan Research Project, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/088031725e4569e4ca256f4f00126373/6fdc30e8
806ec7d9ca256b73000e4618?OpenDocument Tanaka Hiromi. "The Pacific War and New Guinea." Australian War Memorial, http://ajrp.awm.gov.au/ajrp/ajrp2.nsf/aa9b3f3247a3c8ae4a25676300078dee/fdd87d8
73043dcd8ca256b84002024e9?OpenDocument Tanaka Yuki. "Japan's Kamikaze Pilots and Contemporary Suicide Bombers." http://armybase.us/forum/ancient‐military‐history/japan's‐kamikaze‐pilots‐and‐
contemporary‐suicide‐bombers/ Zeitz, Lynette. "No Half Hearted Soldiers: The Japanese Army's Experience of Defeat in the South West Pacific." Adelaide University, 1992, http://cas.awm.gov.au/item/MSS1507 Figures References "An example of a Japanese Army Issue Diary." http://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/japanese‐ww2‐guntai‐techo‐army‐infantry‐
handbook‐1. "Map of Japan." http://gojapan.about.com/cs/japanmaps/l/blprefecturemap.htm "Map of Japan, Korea and China highlighting the areas mentioned in Tamura’s diary." http://www.maps.com/map.aspx?pid=11051. "Map of New Guinea highlighting the areas in which Tamura’s regiment was deployed." http://geography.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ/Ya&zTi=1&sdn=geography&cdn=educati
on&tm=46&gps=301_334_1420_534&f=00&tt=14&bt=1&bts=0&st=23&zu=http%3A//
www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/papua_new_guinea.html. "Map of Tochigi Prefecture." http://gojapan.about.com/library/map/blmap‐tochigi.htm. AJRP, Image provided by Steven Bullard. "Page one of Tamura’s diary." Eaves‐Young, Victoria. "The family Buddhist altar in the original Tamura home." 2009. ———. "The original Tamura home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture." 2009. ———. "Photo taken of framed photograph of Tamura Yoshikazu in the family altar in Oyama." 2009. ———. "Tamura Sadanobu and daughter with the original diary." 2009. ———. "View from the original Tamura family home in Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture." 2009. Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. "Inaba Mountain Moon." htttp://dorukakan.wordpress.com/2009/01/11/japanese‐art/ 505
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