Honour all the war dead
LETTERS
I was a child in Japan during the Second World War, and I had a simple faith. Perhaps that’s what sustained me throughout the war and after.
I had been evacuated from Tokyo and lived in the fishing port city of Numazu at the foot of Mt. Fuji. One beautiful day in June 1945, I was walking home with my friend from school. The streets were covered by a canopy of fresh green leaves. The “all-clear” siren had meant that bombers had left the area. We were happy, kicking stones, fooling around.
Suddenly there was the sound of a bomb falling. We hit the ground and covered ears, eyes and nostrils with both hands as we had been trained to do. After a deafening bang that shook the ground, eerie silence fell. Nowhere was my buddy except a long piece of intestine hanging from a tree branch. It was a direct hit. He was blown to bits completely. I was unscathed, not a scratch.
War is ugly. That’s why many veterans suffer PTSD or don’t want to talk about what they went through. I survived this. My nerves were numbed; I’d seen too many charred bodies and body parts. Dead everywhere. The dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki led to a quick end of the war. By then, we were starving and so exhausted that we were shouting “Please, stop!” And it did stop. It was a great relief.
Since I came to Canada in 1957, I have always felt ambiguous about Remembrance Day. I have never felt the war dead in my family are properly remembered and appreciated, because they died fighting for Japan, hence they are not on the list.
My granduncles, Masao and Shiro, died fighting Tzarist Russian forces in 1904-05. It’s a little-known fact that it was the only war Russia had lost, ever. My favourite uncle Mitsugu is still officially “missing in action” in the Pacific, presumed dead. Then, Japan was fighting Americans and the allies including Canada. He was 17 years old in Grade 12.
When the vanquished are not included in remembrance, it takes away their dignity as people who mourn them, and a faith that sustained them. Only by remembering all the war dead gratefully can we mean that we pray for peace. Then we can sincerely pledge, “never again.”
Tadashi (Tad) Mitsui
Lethbridge