The Great World War 1914–1945: 1. Lightning Strikes Twice. John Bourne

of the modern battlefield. When added to the fierce effectiveness of machine-guns, grenades and rifles held by fanatical Japanese troops in hundreds of hidden strongpoints, Okinawa became a blood-soaked siege lasting ten weeks.

      Marine Eugene Sledge had the unfortunate fate of going from the fierce battle at Peleliu to Okinawa. His unit entered the fray in early May just prior to an ill-advised Japanese counter-attack on entrenched American positions. The description of battle would have been familiar to someone at the Somme in 1916:

      ‘There was the brassy, metallic twang of the small 50mm knee mortar shells as little buffs of dirty smoke appeared thickly around us. The 81mm and 90mm mortar shells crashed and banged all along the ridge. The whizzbang of the high-velocity 47mm gun’s shells, which was on us with its explosion almost as soon as we heard it whizz into the area, gave me the feeling the Japanese were firing them at us like rifles. The slower screaming, whining sound of the 75mm artillery shells seemed the most abundant. Then there was the roar and rumble of the huge enemy 150mm howitzer shell, and the kaboom of its explosion. It was what the men called the big stuff. I didn’t recall having recognised any of it in my confusion and fear at Peleliu. The bursting radius of these big shells was of awesome proportions. Added to all of this noise was the swishing and fluttering overhead of our own supporting artillery fire. Our shells could be heard bursting out across the ridge over enemy positions. The noise of small-arms fire from both sides resulted in a chaotic bedlam of racket and confusion.’¹²

      Despite furious Japanese resistance, American numbers, firepower and skill left the issue in no doubt. By June the Japanese were driven to the southern portion of the island. In his memoir, Colonel Hiromichi Yahara, the highest-ranked Japanese survivor of Okinawa, gave a vivid description of the ruin of a once beautiful portion of Okinawa toward the end of the campaign:

      ‘Two weeks of battle changed the scenery completely. Hills were flattened and reshaped by tanks and bombardments. It was now a wasteland, the darkened terrain exposing a gateway to hell. Early one morning I left the cave and saw dark clouds rolling turbulently across the sky with gun smoke creeping across the land. For a moment the roar of the guns ceased. I was overwhelmed by the ghostly sight of the battlefield that had sucked the blood from thousands of soldiers. As a wise old man once said, “Even the demons of the world would mourn at this sight.” The hilltop was covered with corpses.’¹³

      With the outcome of battle decided, a final bloodbath ensued. Thousands of Okinawan civilians had been killed in military operations throughout the battle. As the end neared, hundreds more emulated the innocents on Saipan with useless suicide. Japanese soldiers had preceded them. As the Americans pushed back imperial forces, the Japanese faced the problem of evacuating the seriously wounded under relentless fire. In practice it was impossible and the result can be imagined. Colonel Yahara explained the situation:

      ‘The army should, of course, make every effort to carry the wounded to safe areas and prevent their capture by the enemy. The fact was, however, that we were unable to care for such large numbers. How to handle this situation?… The army directive on this matter stated: “In facing an emergency every Japanese soldier should act proudly.” In fact, many wounded soldiers shouted “Long live the Emperor!” as they took their lives with hand grenades, satchel charges or cyanide. In other cases, doctors injected patients with cyanide.’¹⁴

      As the end loomed, thousands of imperial soldiers joined their wounded comrades. Young intelligence officer Frank Gibney was led to the headquarters cave of the Japanese 24th Division and observed one of the largest of the ‘suicide caves’ on Okinawa. The dreadful event had taken place about a week before Gibney discovered the carnage:

      ‘With 7th Division intelligence officers, I went down to one of the cave entrances and crawled in. After a walk through a long tunnel we came on a huge underground cavern and one of the ghastliest sights I ever saw. Here lay General Amamiya [24th Division commander], surrounded by his staff and some two hundred officers and men. They had all killed themselves, most with grenades, although Amamiya had thoughtfully given himself a lethal injection to avoid the rigors of ritual suicide. The cave floor was literally carpeted with corpses.’¹⁵

      Resistance began to collapse on 20 June 1945. The last act was the ritual suicide of Okinawa’s commander, Lieutenant-General Mitsuru Ushijima, and his chief of staff, Major-General Isamu Cho, at dawn on 23 June. Although already ordered to make his way somehow to Tokyo and report on the battle, Yahara was drawn to witness the final scene:

      ‘General Ushijima quietly stood up. General Cho removed his field uniform and followed with Paymaster Sato. Led by candlelight the solemn procession headed for the exit, with heavy hearts and limbs.

      When they approached the cave opening, the moon shone on the South Seas. Clouds moved swiftly. The skies were quiet. The morning mist crept slowly up the deep valley. It was as if everything on earth trembled, waiting with deep emotion.

      General Ushijima sat silently in the death seat, ten paces from the cave exit, facing the sea wall. General Cho and Sato sat beside him. The hara-kiri assistant, Captain Sakaguchi, stood behind them. I was a few steps away. Soldiers stood at the exit, awaiting the moment.

      On the back of General Cho’s white shirt, in immaculate brush strokes, was the poem:

      With bravery I served my nation

      With loyalty I dedicate my life.

      The master swordsman, Sakaguchi, grasped his great sword with both hands, raised it high above the general’s head, then held back in his downward swing, and said, “It’s too dark to see your neck. Please wait a few moments.”

      People were still nudging me toward the cave exit when a startling shot rang out. I thought for a moment it was the start of naval gun-firing, but instead it was Sato committing suicide outside the cave. When that excitement subsided, the generals were ready. Each in turn thrust a traditional hara-kiri dagger into his bared abdomen. As they did so, Sakaguchi skilfully and swiftly swung his razor-edged sword and beheaded them. Ushijima first, then Cho.’¹⁶

      In a narrow sense, the Japanese garrison on Okinawa had succeeded admirably. Although losing some 100,000 men to the inferno, they had inflicted the unprecedented total of 12,500 killed and 36,000 wounded on Allied forces of all types.

      Such losses caused tremors in Washington but in no way halted the build-up for an invasion of Kyushu scheduled for 1 November 1945. Indeed, the tempo of the offensive increased. In July the Australians took the oilfields on Borneo. The British were planning an amphibious strike deep into South East Asia. The USSR, as Japanese intelligence knew well, was building up forces in Manchuria.

      The powerful and growing ‘peace faction’ inside the Japanese Government realised that Okinawa was another great defeat. A large and well-entrenched Japanese garrison was crushed by an American army only half again larger than the defence force. Okinawa had cast great doubts on the Imperial Army’s claim that a ‘decisive battle’ on Kyushu could be anything else than a hopeless struggle leading to the destruction of much of the Japanese nation.

      Undoubtedly some of the Japanese garrison were thinking along these lines also. In the weeks after the battle the Americans were astounded to find that nearly 7,000 Japanese soldiers crawled from unseen caves and surrendered, a total without precedent until that time. Japan was beginning to crack.

      Japan itself possessed an undernourished population, its industry was crippled and its urban centres in ruins. The strategic bombing campaign directed against Japanese cities by American B-29s was savage but effective. Learning that Japanese industry, like that found in German cities, was not concentrated, the Americans abandoned their ‘pin-point bombing’ tactics employed in Germany in favour of area attacks against Japan’s densely populated urban areas. Knowing Japanese cities were made of wood and would burn furiously, the B-29s launched low-level night attacks, dropping thousands of small incendiary bombs. The result was a nightmare that overwhelmed Japanese attempts to protect its populace from immolation or asphyxiation in the inevitable firestorm. On 10 March 1945 journalist Masuo Kato witnessed one of the first and largest incendiary raids launched against Tokyo. On that occasion fortune conspired against the citizens