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| A Japanese POW is interrogated by U.S. Marine intelligence personnel on Guadalcanal. |
by Sergeant H. N. Oliphant, Yank Staff Correspondent
Somewhere in the Philippines—The stockade was set in a large rectangular clearing near the edge of a grove of coconut palms and guava trees. Off to the right of the outer barbed wire barrier was a mangrove swamp and beyond that a swollen, clay-colored river that wound like a dirty, twisted ribbon through tangles of tropical fronds and water weeds.
A fat, red-faced MP, a carbine slung barrel-down from his shoulder, stopped us about ten yards from the gate and, recognizing the staff sergeant interpreter with me, called, "Hi, ya, Jitter." Sizing me up briefly with bored mistrust, he added, "That fellow got permission to be here?"
The staff pulled a paper out of his poncho and handed it to the MP. He glanced at it a moment, said "Okay," and motioned us on. At the barbed wire gate another MP with fixed bayonet halted us and asked me if I had a pistol or a jungle knife on me. When I said no, he let us in.
We went for several yards along a narrow passage formed by more barbed wire until we came to the main yard, a cleared square about the size of a baseball diamond with OD tents and little nipa-thatched huts lining three of its four sides. The staff stopped for a minute, pointed to the yard where the Japs were and said: "There they are, more than two hundred of the filthy bastards. You ought to be able to get a cross-section of the Jap soldier's mind from them."
He offered me a cigarette and then explained the procedure we were to follow. I was to put my questions to him in English; he would translate them to the Japs. If it proved necessary, he would carry out the interrogation further himself to get as complete and revealing answers as possible. When he was satisfied with an answer, he would sum it up for me in English.
"Before we go in," he said, "there are some things you ought to know. The Japs you'll see and talk to will fall into two broad types. There will be those who surrendered voluntarily because they couldn't take it, and those taken against their wills because of wounds or shock.
"The first are mostly stupid animal-slaves who have been drilled and drilled until they know how to handle a piece or wield a knife and kill. Otherwise they know absolutely nothing about anything. They have no minds of their own and act only when a superior presses a button.
"The second type is something else again. They are fanatic, shrewd and possessed of an amazing singleness of purpose that is the direct result of just one thing—their sheep-like subservience to their superiors and to the Emperor. They're slick and well trained and live only to obey their superiors' orders to kill as many of us guys as possible. Otherwise they're just like the first type—mindless automatons who move when the button is pressed.
"There's a third type, too, but you won't see many of them in any prison camp because they're almost never captured. They're the killers who fight like madmen until they're wiped out. You can realize how many of these bastards there are when you consider the small number of prisoners we've taken compared with Jap casualties. They're the type who tortured captured Marines on Guadalcanal and engineered the March of Death on Bataan."
Jitter led the way over to the tent nearest the inner gate.
"Here's one who's as good to start with as any," he said. "He's a sergeant, was with those paratroops the Japs tried to land on Leyte the other night. His transport was shot down off the coast, and everyone in it was killed except him. He managed to get ashore but he ran into a bunch of guerrillas. You can imagine what a going-over they gave him. He falls into the second type I mentioned. He was captured against his will and now he thinks he's disgraced forever; says he'll commit suicide the first chance he gets."
When we ducked under the tent flaps, the Jap, sitting Buddha fashion with one foot under his buttocks and the other pulled up on the opposite thigh, looked up with a startled expression. Then he stood abruptly and bowed up and down, his arms spread wide, a cringing, crinkled smile on his face. He was big for a Jap, with broad shoulders and a clean-shaven bullet-shaped head. There were Band-Aids on his chin and under his jaw, apparently mementos of his session with the guerrillas, and there were thin, uneven gold edges on his protruding teeth. Jitter asked him to sit down and told him what we wanted to talk about. Then the questioning began. Every time the prisoner spoke, a nervous tic twitched above his right eye.
Where is your home town?
Osaka. [Osaka, Jitter stopped to explain, is a city near Kobe in the southern part of Honshu, Japan's biggest island.]
How long have you been in the Army?
Five years.
Did you take your basic training in Japan?
Some of it.
While you were training did your officers ever talk about the United States or tell you that Americans were bad and were a threat to the peace of Japan?
No. All they talked about was how to shoot guns, how to fight.
Did you volunteer or were you conscripted?
I volunteered.
Why did you volunteer?
Because I like army life; it makes you feel like a man.
When you were captured, how did you think you would be treated?
[The tic above the Jap's eye twitched three or four times in rapid succession. He didn't say anything—just sat there with his mouth hung open, his face a twitching blank. Jitter repeated the question with an addition.]
Did you think you would be tortured or killed?
Yes.
Has anyone in this camp hurt you in any way?
No. Everyone has been kind. Plenty of food. Nobody has hurt me.
Do you think you will be hurt or killed?
I don't know. [The Jap's tic twitched more violently.] I have asked MPs to kill me. I have asked MPs to let me kill myself.
Why do you want to kill yourself?
Because I am disgraced. I could never go back.
Do you have a family?
A mother and sister.
Friends? Schoolmates?
Yes.
Wouldn't they understand and forgive you? [The prisoner was suddenly a blank again, as if he didn't know what the question meant. Jitter asked it again.]
I don't know if they'd understand. It wouldn't make any difference if they did.
Would you be afraid to go home?
Yes; afraid, ashamed.
If you were able to escape back to your lines would you fight and try to kill as hard as you did before you were captured?
Harder.
Why? For what?
[The Jap, his tic still twitching, picking at a big scab on his ankle. Once more he didn't understand the meaning of a question.
Why were you fighting in the first place?
For the Emperor. [When he said the word "Emperor," the Jap sergeant made a quick, slight, almost imperceptible movement, snapping his spine straight. Jitter turned to me and said, "They all do that."]
Are you fighting for anything else but the Emperor? [At the sound of the word, the Jap's spine snapped straight again.]
No.
Why do you think Japan is fighting this war?
To rule the world.
Why do you think Japan should rule the world?
Because Japan is greater than any other country.
What makes you think that?
Japan has everything. Japan is powerful and right.
Did you ever hear or read much about the United States?
No.
Do you think America is powerful?
I don't know.
Do you think America is right?
I don't know. Japan is right.
Why do you think Japan is right? Can't anyone possibly be right but Japan?
[The prisoner looked blank again.]
Is Japan right because only Japan has the Emperor?
[The Jap's spine snapped straight and he answered quickly as if from memory, like a high-school elocutionist, speaking the words fast and without expression.] The Emperor is God. The Emperor is God for the whole world. [Jitter looked at me, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "See what I mean?" He went on.]
When were you last in Japan?
I was in Miyaski December 4, 1944.
Did the people there have enough to eat?
Yes.
Were they concerned or scared about the war?
They were afraid.
Do they think Japan will win the war?
Every Japanese thinks that Japan will win the war.
Did you ever hear of Midway, Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Eniwetok, Saipan, Hollandia, Morotai?
Yes. They have told us about them.
Do you know you've been kicked out of those places and that now you're being kicked out of the Philippines?
I don't know. All places so far are just battles. You maybe win battles. Japan will win the war.
Jitter got up, sighed and said: "There's no point talking to this one any longer. Let's go in the next tent."
The next tent was larger. It had a long bamboo pole in the center, and over the ground the prisoners had spread layers of palm leaves. There were sixteen Japs in the tent and all of them were squatting on the floor tying palm leaves together with strands of ratan. They were naked except for jockstrap arrangements of white cloth.
When we came in the prisoners stood up immediately. Jitter told them to sit down. Then he picked out two who could answer for the others. One of them a Pfc. in the infantry, was very young and rather frail looking. His cheekbones weren't as high as those of most of his race and his skin had a certain unhealthy pallor. The two characteristics combined to make him look less Japanese. He had no expression at all when he talked, but when he bowed he had the usual insipid, crinkled grin.
The other prisoner was a seaman second class who had been fished out of Surigao Strait after his ship was blasted in the now-famous battle of the night of 24-25 October. He was pudgy-faced, remarkably slant-eyed and fat, with a clean-shaven, abnormally large head. When he talked, he grinned in an almost sneering manner, and when he tried to stress a point he waved his hands like a bartender mixing a whisky sour.
Jitter turned to the young Pfc. first.
Where's your home?
In the province of Kagawee.
When did you get in the Army?
In October 1943.
What did you do before you were in the Army?
Worked on my father's farm.
Did you have plenty to eat?
We had enough.
Did the Japanese Government get any of your food?
Some of it.
After you got into the Army were you told anything about the war, what you were fighting for and so forth?
They told us we were fighting for Eternal Peace.
When you were in school before the war did you ever read or study much about the United States?
No.
Do you hate Americans?
I don't know.
Then why did you fight and try to kill Americans?
[The young Pfc.'s eyes darted back and forth nervously over the tent wall. One of the other prisoners, a thin, demented-looking Jap, stopped grinning and waited, his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixed on the Pfc. Jitter asked the question again.]
Why did you fight and kill Americans?
Because of the Emperor. [Every back in the semicircle of listening prisoners straightened up when the word was spoken. The thin prisoner was a few seconds late, but he finally jerked to attention, his idiot grin restored.]
Do you believe that the Emperor is God?
Yes.
[Jitter put the same question to all of the others and each in his turn nodded and said "Haee," the sound Japs make when they answer yes to their superiors. Then Jitter asked. "Why do you think the Emperor is God?" and the Pfc. said that every Japanese knew the Emperor was God. They knew it, he said, because it was the only truth, the only thing in life that really meant anything to them.]
Jitter looked at me helplessly. "What can you do?" he said.
Then he turned to the pudgy-faced sailor.
Do you think Japan will win the war?
[The Jap sailor grinned smugly.] Of course Japan will win the war.
Why?
Japan can beat anybody. [The others were listening intently, hanging on to each word.]
What makes you think Japan will win?
Japan never lost a war. She cannot be beaten. All of Japan is one mind.
What do you mean, "Japan is one mind?"
[In his answer the prisoner used a phrase that I had heard frequently throughout the questioning. It was "Yamato Damashi." When I asked what it meant, Jitter said: "The phrase is hard to translate. There is no American word or phrase which means quite the same thing. The closest I can come to it is 'fighting spirit,' but to these people it means much more than that. If you think of a will power that no force on earth could discourage short of killing its possessor, and add to that the stubborn, cold belief of a bigot, you might get a little closer to its meaning." He went on with his questioning.]
Do you think Japan can beat America at anything—sports, for example?
Yes.
How about baseball? Didn't the Americans beat your pants off at baseball a few ago?
They got the highest score, yes.
You mean that America didn't beat you?
Yes. Japan won.
[Jitter looked at me with an expression of exaggerated patience, his fingers on the ground like Oliver Hardy used to do when Stan Laurel tripped him into a trough of white plaster.]
Look. First you said that the Americans got the high score and now you say that Japan won. What exactly do you mean by that?
Yamato Damashi. You got high score, but there are more important things. It's the way Japan plays the game. [Then the sailor burst into a flood of wild hissing chatter that lasted a good two minutes. When he finished, Jitter translated.] You come over to play in a big baseball tournament. You hit the ball plenty, you make runs, but your players are not honorable. They were crude. They didn't bow and talk properly to people, and while they played they paid no attention to anything but the game. Also, they show no Yamato Damashi. They wear uniforms with no American flag on them. Every Japanese player wears a uniform with the Rising Sun on it.
Jitter stood up. "I expect," he said, "that gives you a pretty good picture of how his brain works. Let's go out and get some fresh air."
Outside the sun was trying to break through the clouds, but there was a dismal drizzle and the yard was deserted except for one prisoner who was filling a canteen from the Lyster bag that hung in the center of the compound.
"That joe over there is a Navy pilot," Jitter said. "Tough guy. Thinks he's above all the others here. Let's talk to him."
The pilot was about twenty-five years old. He had a sparse, stringy mustache and some hairs on his chin that passed for a goatee. There was a purple-streaked swelling over his left eye, and one of his front teeth was missing. He had been shot down in San Pedro Bay on A-plus-4 and picked up by one of our Navy boats.
Though he had been cocky around the other Japs, when he saw Jitter approaching he became all smiles and bows. Jitter told him I would like him to answer a few questions, and he nodded so agreeably that you would have thought answering my questions was his life's ambition.
Where is your home?
Osaka.
How long have you been in the Navy?
Six years.
How long have you been a fighter pilot?
I graduated from Kasugamuira four months ago.
Ever in combat before Leyte?
No.
Do you feel any disgrace because you were captured alive?
Yes, I do.
Why did you let them pick you up out of the bay?
I was very sick.
Why didn't you kill yourself then? You had a gun, didn't you?
Yes, but it was rusty.
How did you think you would be treated as a prisoner?
I didn't know. International Law protects officers.
Did you ever hear of Jimmy Doolittle's raid on Tokyo?
Yes.
Do you know what happened to the American pilots who were captured there?
No.
Did you know that their heads were cut off?
No.
Well, they were. Do you believe it?
No.
[Jitter shrugged and offered a cigarette to the Jap pilot who took it greedily but only after he had executed a short, quick bow.]
Have you heard about the B-29 raids on Tokyo?
Yes. They have told us about them.
Did they tell you that the raids caused any appreciable damage?
They told us there was not much damage.
Do you think the B-29s can wreck Japan?
They cannot hurt Japan.
Why?
Japan has too much anti-aircraft, too much defense, too many fighter planes.
What do you think of American pilots?
Some good, some bad.
Are they any better than Japanese pilots?
We have some good, some bad, too.
Who do you think has the better, stronger air force?
[The pilot looked blank for a moment, attempted to formulate an answer, tried a few broken phrases and gave up.]
When you went out to attack an American troopship or vessel, what did you think about?
Hitting the target.
Anything else?
[No answer.]
Did you think of anything else?
[No answer.]
Why did you do it?
For the Emperor. [The Jap pilot snapped straight.]
Why do you think the Emperor is making Japan fight?
Japan is fighting for Eternal Peace.
Do you think Japan will win?
Yes.
As the interrogation progressed we had been walking slowly over to the far corner of the compound where the pilot's tent was. We were in front of the tent now, and the pilot bowed us in. On a GI cot at the rear of the tent squatted a little wizened Jap with horn-rimmed spectacles. He was about forty years old and, as Jitter explained, a doctor with more than three years Army service. When we entered, he was reading what appeared to be a Japanese medical journal. There were illustrations showing operating techniques, blood-transfusion equipment and other medical procedures.
Jitter questioned the doctor. While the questioning went on the pilot, like the silent prisoners in the other tent, sat very still, listening intently.
Doctor, you've read widely in medicine. Do you think that America's contribution to world medicine has been important?
I think it has been extremely important.
You have heard, of course, of Johns Hopkins, the Mayo Clinic and other American medical centers?
Yes. Their work has been of the utmost importance to the general advance of medicine.
Do you know that anesthesia was discovered and developed by American scientists?
Certainly.
How do you think Japan's medicine, its doctors, its operating equipment and so on compare with those of America?
Japan is first rate in everything.
Tell me, doctor, who do you think will win the war?
Japan will win.
Are you aware of how many places your Army and Navy have lost in the last two years during America's steady march into the Far East?
Yes. They tell us of the progress of the war.
Why are you being beaten so steadily?
We are not being beaten. We will strike when the time comes.
When do you think the war will end?
They do not tell us that.
[Jitter looked at me and said: "The doctor doesn't understand English, but, as you see, he's a pretty well educated professional man. Now watch what happens when I begin to question him on another track."]
Doctor, have you read America's Bill of Rights?
Yes.
Do you believe, as that document states, that all people have a right to worship God according to their own conscience, without dictation from anyone?
[At this question, the doctor's face sagged and his eyes glazed. His blank look recalled the uncomprehending Osaka sergeant of the first interview.]
I don't understand.
[Jitter put his hand out in an appealing gesture.]
Look. You have read the Bill of Rights. You know that it sets forth certain freedoms, certain protections for the securities of God-fearing peoples. Do you think that document is a good, sensible, right doctrine?
I do not know.
What is a right doctrine for decent human living?
The Emperor's doctrine. [The doctor's spine straightened.]
Would you do anything the Emperor commanded you to do?
Certainly.
Doctor, you consider yourself an honorable man and you believe that the Japanese are an honorable people. Do you think your leaders are truthful, honest and aboveboard?
Yes.
In other words, you feel that, if you think you have a right to something another man has, you ought to go to that man and talk things over sensibly and try to settle the matter rationally and fairly?
Yes.
If, while you were thus talking to that other man, your friend, let's say, came up behind him and stabbed him in the back and grabbed for you the thing you wanted, would you feel that you were getting that thing honorably, fairly?
Of course not.
Did you ever hear of Pearl Harbor?
I have heard of Pearl Harbor.
Did you know that the Japanese sneaked up on Pearl Harbor and, without any warning, stabbed America in the back? Did you know that, at that very moment, two of your most celebrated statesmen were in Washington pleading for Eternal Peace?
No.
Do you believe it?
No.
Jitter looked at the doctor for a few seconds, smiled wearily and nodded his head as if admitting that the whole thing was futile. Then he turned to me and said, "Had enough?" I said I had, and we went out of the tent.
As we left the camp, just as we turned through the gate, we caught a glimpse of the sergeant from Osaka. He was squatting under a tent flap. Picking the scab on his ankle. Every now and then the tic above his right eye would twitch convulsively.
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| Japanese prisoner awaits questioning by intelligence officer on Guam. July 1944. |
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| A Japanese soldier surrendering to three U.S. Marines in the Marshall Islands during January 1944. |
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| Two surrendered Japanese soldiers with a Japanese civilian and two U.S. soldiers on Okinawa. The Japanese soldier on the left is reading a propaganda leaflet. |
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| A U.S. surrender leaflet depicting Japanese POWs. The leaflet's wording was changed from 'I surrender' to 'I cease resistance' at the suggestion of POWs. Text includes explanation of treatment of prisoners of war according to the Geneva Convention. |
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| Japanese POWs practice baseball near their quarters. This photograph was taken with the intention of using it in propaganda leaflets, to be dropped on Japanese-held areas in the Asia-Pacific region. 1 July 1944. |
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| A group of Japanese captured during the Battle of Okinawa. |
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| Japanese Prisoners of War at Guam, with bowed heads after hearing Emperor Hirohito make announcement of Japan's unconditional surrender. 15 August 1945. |
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