One Man's Justice (2 page)

Shirasaka sat down behind the single desk in the middle of the room. Takuya put down his rucksack, placed his service cap on the desktop and sat facing Shirasaka.

From Shirasaka's expression Takuya realised he had been right to assume that there was nothing frivolous about the decision to send him the postcard. But they had gone to great lengths to ensure that every scrap of evidence was destroyed, so surely there was no chance they had been found out. It could only have to do with the matériel or facilities previously under the jurisdiction of the now defunct headquarters organisation.

‘Those American fliers … I'm afraid things have taken a bad turn.' Resting his elbows on the desk and knitting his fingers together, Shirasaka explained that the former army major-general who had been commander-in-chief, his chief of staff, and a colonel who had been an aide-de-camp to the commander-in-chief were being questioned by US Army intelligence officers attached to SCAP.

Taken aback, Takuya stared at him.

Shirasaka told him that the former senior officers from headquarters had been detained for almost a month now. The questioning focused on what had happened to the crew members who had parachuted from the B-29 bombers shot down the previous year. American intelligence was carrying out its duties under article ten of the Potsdam Declaration, covering detention and punishment of war criminals guilty of mistreatment of prisoners of war, and thus far not only had established the exact location of the crash sites of the B-29s downed by Japanese anti-aircraft units, but had also discovered that a total of fifty-eight crew members had survived the downing of their aircraft in the western headquarters administrative sector of Kyushu. On the basis of this knowledge, the investigators had gathered detailed information from civilian sources and learnt that of the fifty-eight, seventeen had been sent to prisoner-of war camps in the Tokyo area, and the remaining forty-one had been handed over to the military police – the
kempeitai
– by local police, and from there transferred to the custody of Western Regional Headquarters.

By all accounts, the investigation team had carried out a rigorous interrogation of western headquarters staff, and
now knew that the crew members had, to a man, been either formally executed or disposed of to the same end. The ‘bad turn' Shirasaka had referred to was that the headquarters staff had categorically denied issuing any orders to this effect, and insisted that the executions had been carried out arbitrarily by young officers.

‘Incredible, isn't it?' said Shirasaka, shaking his head.

Takuya was dumbfounded. He was shocked not just that things could have been traced this far, but that senior officers in Western Regional Command, including the commander-in-chief himself, could have painted a picture so at odds with the truth.

During his days as the head of the Eleventh Army in China, the commander-in-chief had gathered a great deal of information about the movements of the US Army Air Force units flying out of China, and had done his utmost to use this knowledge after his posting to Western Regional Command. Surmising that the American build-up of airpower in China presaged air raids on Kyushu, he ordered the anti-aircraft intelligence network to focus their attention on the Korea Strait. His deduction had proved to be correct, allowing for early detection of the American bomber squadrons heading for Kyushu airspace, thereby giving local fighter units time to effect the optimum defence and inflict heavy losses on the incoming bombers.

This success had greatly enhanced his prestige within the army, where he was already widely renowned as a general of genuinely noble character. As composed and imperturbable as a man could be, he responded to each request for a sample of his calligraphy by writing the Chinese characters for
‘Death, life, be as prepared for one as for the other.' That a man of his calibre should have brazenly divorced himself from his responsibilities was beyond belief.

Demobilised on the fifth of September of the previous year, Takuya had gone back to his home town. Soon after his return, he learnt that the occupation authorities had intensified their efforts to apprehend suspected war criminals.

On the eleventh of that month a warrant was issued for the arrest of those designated Class A war criminals, on charges of having participated in the ‘formulation or execution of a common plan or conspiracy to wage wars of aggression'. Former prime minister General Tojo Hideki had shot himself in a suicide attempt when he realised that American military police had arrived at his home. The following day, it was reported that other high-ranking officials, including former army minister Field Marshal Sugiyama Hajime, former minister of health Major-General Koizumi Chikahiko, former minister of education Hashida Kunihiko, former commander of the North-east Region General Yoshimoto Sadakazu, former commander-in-chief of the Kwantung Army Honjo Shigeru, and former prime minister Konoe Fumimaro, had taken their own lives. The newspaper coverage included the full text of article ten of the Potsdam Declaration regarding Japan's surrender, stating: ‘We do not intend that the Japanese shall be enslaved as a race or destroyed as a nation, but stern justice shall be meted out to all war criminals, including those who have visited cruelties upon prisoners.'

On the tenth of October Takuya read an article saying that warrants had been issued for the arrest of three
hundred former staff of prisoner-of-war camps on charges of mistreatment of prisoners. The article, a release from the Associated Press office at General MacArthur's headquarters, stated that these suspects would be arrested by the Japanese authorities and handed over to Eleventh Army divisional headquarters in Yokohama, and that no stone would be left unturned until those guilty of mistreating prisoners of war were brought to justice.

Included in an article six days later, below the headline ‘Bodies of Seven US Airmen Discovered – Parachuted to Ground during Tokyo Air Raids', was a statement from a spokesman for the Eighth Army Corps. It said that investigators had found the remains of two American fliers buried beside a Tokyo canal. Evidently the dead airmen had had their arms tied with thick rope and had suffered massive wounds to the neck and head. The clue that led to their discovery was provided by a young Japanese girl who, during the days of the air raids on Tokyo, had seen Japanese soldiers burying bodies wrapped in straw matting. The remains had been found in shallow graves full of muddy water, with the bodies clad only in flight jackets, sweaters and torn boots. The article also said that another five bodies had subsequently been exhumed from the grounds of a certain unnamed temple.

Not long afterwards, it was reported in the newspaper that trials of those suspected of crimes against prisoners of war had started, and that the first guilty verdict had already been delivered on the eighth of January. The man sentenced was a former army lieutenant who had been in charge of Ohmuta prisoner-of-war camp. An American prisoner of
war by the name of Hurd had twice attempted to escape and in consequence had been thrown into the guardhouse. When he tried to escape a third time he was severely beaten. The military tribunal judged that the beating constituted serious mistreatment of a prisoner of war and sentenced the accused to death by hanging. Beatings were everyday occurrences in the Japanese army, so Takuya was shocked that merely beating an incorrigible escaper should warrant the death penalty.

Three days later, there were reports of assault charges filed against a junior officer at the Ohmuta camp, and charges of burning moxa on a prisoner's arm and slapping him across the face with an open hand against the commandant of another camp. Both officers were sentenced to death by hanging. Numerous similar cases were reported in succeeding days.

Amid all the press coverage, the articles covering the trial of the former commander-in-chief of Japanese forces in the Philippines, General Yamashita Tomoyuki, stood out to Takuya for their depiction of the stance that should be taken by a commander of an army corps. Yamashita's trial by military tribunal had been held in Manila and he was sentenced to death, but he did not hesitate to accept complete responsibility for the actions of his subordinates.

Takuya had assumed all along that the commander of the Western Region would take a position similar to Yamashita's. As the one who gave the orders in the Western Region, the commander would have been fully aware of what had happened under his command, and Takuya had firmly believed that if the facts of the matter
were discovered the commander would take complete responsibility.

‘American intelligence knows all your names and addresses. Things being the way they are at the moment, they will doubtless move to arrest you.' Shirasaka's speech was free of any trace of the rough language he had used to refer to fellow officers during his time as a lieutenant in the Imperial Army.

‘What should I do?' asked Takuya dejectedly. He couldn't help but feel indignant at being told that those who had issued the orders in the first place were, only eight months after the dissolution of the Imperial Army, divorcing themselves from all responsibility for what had happened in that thicket near Abura-yama. Such things didn't happen in the army Takuya had known.

Shirasaka fixed his eyes on Takuya. ‘Run for it. Hide somewhere,' he said in a soft yet compelling voice.

Takuya remained silent.

Shirasaka's eyes glistened as he spoke. ‘Without a doubt, they'll hang you if you're caught. You'll die like a dog. Hide. Lieutenant Hirosaki came this morning. I sent him a postcard worded the same way as the one I sent you. I explained the situation and told him to lie low. He said he'd do his best, and now I'm giving you the same advice.'

When Takuya remained speechless, Shirasaka stood up and left the room.

Takuya remembered seeing a photograph in the newspaper which showed a former army lieutenant, sentenced to death for beating a prisoner of war, being led out of the courtroom by the American military police. If he were to
end up that way, he would have no second chance to escape. There would be only the wait for the gallows. Takuya couldn't bear the thought that he, who had served his country so loyally, might be held captive by the occupation forces and forced to die such a humiliating death.

A wave of uneasiness came over him. The warrant for his arrest might already have been issued, and the occupation administration might have called upon those winding up the affairs of the former headquarters. Obviously, just being in this building was dangerous.

He stood and looked out the window. There were no people or vehicles moving towards the building, and a dusty haze shrouded almost half of the wasted terrain. A glint of bright light emanated from somewhere near the station.

The door opened and Shirasaka re-entered the room. Sitting down, he produced two pieces of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed them on the desk.

‘I gave Hirosaki these, too. They're papers for demobilised soldiers back from overseas. With one of these you can get food and other rations wherever you go, and they double as identification. I considered a few options and came to the conclusion that you should make out you're from Okinawa. It's occupied by the Americans, so a demobilised soldier wouldn't be in much of a hurry to get back there, which is a plausible reason for you to keep moving around the main islands. Write in a name that sounds Okinawan. Just in case, I'm giving you a second one to keep as a spare.'

Shirasaka pushed the papers toward Takuya. They already bore the official seal of the Western Command's Hakata office for demobilised military personnel, and the spaces for
name and address were left blank. However he had obtained them, the documents looked very official.

Takuya put the papers in the inside pocket of his army jacket. ‘I want you to give me my gun back,' he said.

Shirasaka stared hard at Takuya, a tinge of surprise spreading across his face. After the surrender, Takuya and the other officers had wrapped their twelve side-arms and a considerable quantity of ammunition in oiled paper and put them all into a waterproof bag, which had then been hidden in a secret compartment in the corridor of the headquarters building. In the bag was a collection of foreign-and Japanese-made pistols purchased with the officers' allowance for personal side-arms. Among them was Takuya's 1939 army pistol.

Takuya had forgotten about the pistol, but Shirasaka's explanation of developments and the words ‘They'll hang you' had jogged his memory. He felt exposed and vulnerable without his gun, as though the wartime logic that an officer had to have a weapon on him at all times had returned to guide him.

Takuya realised that his war had yet to end. The enemy was close at hand, patrolling with sub-machine-guns slung from their shoulders, driving Jeeps and lorries through the streets of the cities and towns.

‘Why do you need it?' said Shirasaka, a trace of trepidation in his voice.

‘I just want to have it on me,' replied Takuya. Being armed was in itself more than reason enough. As long as his own war continued, a weapon would be indispensable.

Shirasaka's fists clenched within his folded arms. Takuya
saw the tormented look on the man's face and realised that Shirasaka was afraid he might use the weapon to kill himself. On the twentieth of August, just days after the official document of surrender was signed, a navy lieutenant and a commander from the Kyushu munitions depot, distraught at the reality of defeat, had both committed hara-kiri in the woods near the Shoogaku temple, and since then there had been a rash of suicides by men named to stand trial for war crimes. Maybe it wasn't so strange of Shirasaka to interpret Takuya's wanting his gun back as a sign that he planned to kill himself.

‘I want it back,' Takuya said in a calmer tone, hoping to allay Shirasaka's fears.

Shirasaka fidgeted. Propping his elbows on the desk, he rubbed his clenched fingers against his forehead, pushing his thumbs awkwardly into his cheeks.