All language subtitles for World at War e22 Japan (1941-1945).en

(♪ fanfare)

(narrator) May 8 1945.

V-E Day.

Victory in Europe.

After years of struggle,
an explosion of joy and of relief.

(♪ “Knees Up Mother Brown”
by Harris Weston and Bert Lee)

(crowd) ♪ Send him victorious

♪ Happy and glorious

♪ Long to reign over us…

(Churchill) We may allow ourselves
a brief period of rejoicing.

But let us not forget for a moment
the toils and efforts that lie ahead.

(narrator) There was still Japan.

(narrator) Tokyo, just before midday
on 7 December 1942.

(♪ Japanese national anthem)

The Japanese people observed
the first anniversary

of their imperial navy's destruction
of the American fleet at Pearl Harbour.

It was one year since they learned
that their nation of 80 million

had engaged the combined might

of over 200 million
Americans and British.

Many had heard the news
of the Pearl Harbour attack soberly,

even apprehensively.

But then came victory after victory—
Hong Kong, Malaya, Singapore.

Earlier fears were lost in exultation.

(shouts in Japanese)

(crowd cheers)

(speaks Japanese)

(narrator) Prime Minister
General Hideki Tojo,

representative of the militarists

who had made Japan
into an aggressive totalitarian state,

had led his countrymen into the war.

Now he promised them final victory.

(translator) The nation will complete
the final round of this conflict.

To overthrow America and Britain
we will fight until the last day.

Then in the Greater Asian area

we shall accomplish
the destruction of our enemies.

Now, at the start of the second year,

both myself and the nation
think about the men in the front line,

and once again I express determination
for final victory.

War work must be pushed on
and the struggle carried forward.

(narrator) At this time,
Japan was not an industrial giant.

But in this first year of war,

they had seen the Japanese soldiers'
spiritual strength and discipline

prevail over the materially stronger

but morally inferior
Americans and British.

The same dedication on the home front

would make Japan's newly won empire
unassailable.

(♪ fanfare)

For some well-informed Japanese,

the Pearl Harbour attack
had been an astonishing gamble.

I came to work as usual
about nine o'clock

and everybody was there.

There was martial music playing

and I almost fell over
when I saw the newspaper extra

saying that the emperor had declared war
on United States and Great Britain.

I think the man on the street
had the same feeling

of being taken by complete surprise.

(narrator) But now, propaganda film
could portray jubilant Japanese aviators

smashing the American fleet
at Pearl Harbour.

(shouts in Japanese)

(shouts in Japanese)

(narrator) Doubters were persuaded.

Newsreels emphasised
the humbling of the arrogant whites.

The Japanese believed that their own
soldiers always fought to the death.

The sight of white prisoners
dwarfing the Japanese

who herded them
into dishonourable captivity

helped convince them
of their own invincibility.

(woman) Japan was winning

and every day we heard over the radio
all the victories.

And the whole nation was very excited.

And the thought I had at the time

when I heard the news about the war was,
“What's going to happen?”

But immediately all the victories
and big war songs

and marches over the radio
all day long…

So we are… quite excited

and it was almost like a festival.

(band plays march)

(narrator) War had been with
the Japanese people for ten years.

Since 1931, their armies
had been fighting

an endless, frustrating war in China.

Victory in the Pacific
had been quick and complete.

Here at last was something to celebrate.

(air-raid siren)

For years before Pearl Harbour,

there had been mock air-raid drills
in every Japanese city.

Not a precaution against
China's almost nonexistent air force,

but part of the process of keeping
war-like emotion at a high pitch.

(shouting in Japanese)

(narrator) All took part.

Neighbourhood Associations—
the Tonarigumi—

ensured that every one
of the emperor's subjects at home

was involved in the distant war.

The Neighbourhood Associations
controlled all our life at that time.

All the instructions from the government
were through the Tonarigumi,

so we had to obey it.

And we relied upon the Tonarigumi.

(narrator) In every neighbourhood,

in schools, in playing fields
and on the streets,

ordinary citizens patriotically
submitted themselves

to regimentation of thought and act.

(man shouts instructions in Japanese)

(narrator) The inculcation
of patriotic virtues began in infancy.

(piano plays)

(children sing in Japanese)

(narrator) From their earliest days,
children prepared mind and body

to serve a cause
greater than themselves—

the family, the nation,

the emperor.

And if the nation was at war,
children had to be ready for that, too.

(children continue singing in Japanese)

(narrator) When school was over,

it would be their duty and their
privilege to serve their country

in the imperial forces on land, on sea,

in the air.

High-school pupils
joined the air force for a day.

If they were lucky,

they would have the chance
to join as adults before too long.

(man) Of course,
the Japanese were brought up

in three or four cardinal truths
from cradle to grave—

that the emperor was divine,
the country was invincible,

and it consisted of… a chosen race.

Things like these,

which were drummed into the Japanese
mind from kindergarten up.

(narrator) Japanese boys were taught

to imitate the martial code
of the samurai—

archaic and ferocious,
devoid of pity for enemy or for self.

For the samurai, to die in battle
was to fall at the moment of perfection,

as the cherry blossom does.

The worship of Buddha
had coexisted in Japan for centuries

with the ancient Shinto worship
of spirits, of ancestors,

of the sun goddess, Amaterasu.

But in the 1920s and '30s,
the nationalists and militarists

had insisted that Shinto
be made the state religion.

Shinto was pure.
It was strictly Japanese.

And it was from the Shinto sun goddess,
the Japanese devoutly believed,

that the nation's high priest
was directly descended—

the emperor.

The emperor was a god
and a warrior chief.

The mystic belief that, through him,
the Japanese race

was destined for conquest
was systematically propagated.

The military acted
in the emperor's name,

but they contrived that,
in spite of appearances,

he retained little real power on Earth.

The emperor
was deeply solicitous of peace,

which means that he was opposed

to starting hostilities with America.

But his position was such

that if the cabinet
recommended, unanimously,

a certain line of policy,

he could not disapprove of it,
although he might dislike it at heart.

(narrator) In a government
headed by a general,

this meant doing what the army wanted.

The ashes of Japan's war dead
were carried home, packed in boxes.

Relatives of the fallen,
widows and mothers,

had no more occasion for pride,

no more right to tears
than the day they had said goodbye.

To send sons or husband to die
for the emperor was the highest duty.

“We'll meet at the Yasukuni Shrine,”

where the ashes of the war dead
were consecrated,

was the traditional farewell
of the soldiers leaving,

wrapped in haramaki—the protective
belly band of a thousand stitches.

(man) A girl stands
on the corners of the streets,

say if in Tokyo, along the Ginza,

and asks each passer-by woman
to make a stitch.

She must collect a thousand stitches.

This is given to a soldier. I got one.
You wrapped this round your belly.

It's supposed to keep your stomach warm

so that you don't catch cold
or this or that,

but also to ward off bullets.

Now, we all know this cannot be done,
but this is like a charm, also.

And I used to think, now I don't know
whether I should say this,

but I felt this is very unfair,

especially when I got the order
to go overseas.

The Japanese girls
are giving me this thousand stitches.

I am going to die.
I have not experienced a woman.

Why cannot they give me
their body to enjoy, and let me live,

however short my life is,
to enjoy the fullness of it?

Because sleeping with me
is not going to kill the girl, you know?

Maybe she likes it, I don't know.

But here I am about to die,
and all I get is a thousand stitches.

(narrator) Wartime farewells were
supposed to be a spiritual experience—

ceremonial, unsentimental.

(all sing in Japanese)

(narrator) Men recovered from wounds

left hospital to the singing
of the Umi Yukaba.

“I go to a lonely grave
far across the sea,” they sang,

and went off to the war again.

But suddenly, less than five months
after Pearl Harbour…

…the war was not so far away.

18 April 1942.

16 Mitchell medium bombers, commanded
by Lieutenant Colonel James Doolittle,

set out from the US aircraft carrier,
Hornet,

for the first-ever air raid on Japan.

The American aim was to make
a token, but early, demonstration

of Japan's vulnerability to air attack.

In this, they entirely succeeded.

When Doolittle's raid was conducted

over the sky of Tokyo,

that produced a…
produced a sort of consternation

because the military

repeatedly assured the public

that the Japanese sky was impenetrable.

(narrator) Doolittle's bombers
did penetrate Japan's skies

to drop a mere 16 tons
of bombs on her cities.

The actual damage was not great.

The shock was.

(man) The Japanese press
were told how to display the news.

The complexion
was put on as a cruel act—

indiscriminate bombing
of civilians and women and children.

(narrator)
Eight Doolittle flyers were captured.

For the Japanese, bombing was something
that happened to other people.

They were angry that this barbarity
had happened to them.

The prisoners were tried
by a military court.

Three were executed.

The main function of Japanese women
was to bear sons.

Skilled only in such feminine arts
as the tea ceremony,

they stayed in the background.

Now with the battle fronts
taking the men away,

they were directed to sterner things.

(man sings in Japanese)

Country women were used
to taking their place in the fields

alongside their men.

But for the women from the cities,
the war meant a complete change.

To stock the nation's depleted larder,

they too were conscripted
to labour long hours.

They mined coal to make the utmost use
of Japan's scanty resources

and keep the war machine moving.

City girls were brought up
to be wives and mothers,

to be known
as the “honourable hidden one”.

Now they came out of their seclusion
and learned new skills.

The women of Japan must take over
men's work, they were told,

as their enemies had done,
to ensure victory.

(man sings in Japanese)

(woman) When we worked at the factory,

every other week we had to work

from three o'clock in the afternoon
until 11 o'clock.

And at 11 o'clock
when we finish our work,

they would take us to a dining room
and they would give us one bowl of soup.

Actually, it was hot salt water
with maybe two or three soy beans.

And we are very hungry.

Or maybe just one noodle at the bottom.

Everything we got through rations.

Unless we have a card for rations,
we couldn't get anything.

We have to do some self-supply,
and we grew potatoes in our gardens.

We worked very hard
to grow our own vegetables.

Our everyday life,

that life was very, very hard.

(narrator) The empress herself
took on a new role,

urging the nation
to more effort, more sacrifice.

Sacrifice was necessary for victory,

and in final victory
their belief was still unshaken.

None knew that by June 1942,

the battle had already become
one simply for survival.

June 1942.

United States war planes take off
to intercept a Japanese armada

attacking the island of Midway.

To this battle, Admiral Yamamoto,
the Japanese naval commander-in-chief,

had committed the four largest
aircraft carriers in the Japanese fleet.

When the battle ended on 5 June 1942,

Yamamoto's four carriers
were blazing wrecks or sunk.

Midway was a defeat
from which Japan's navy never recovered.

But the Japanese people were told
that Midway was a victory.

The truth was concealed
even from members of the government.

(speaks Japanese)

(translator) We were told
that one aircraft carrier was sunk

and one was severely damaged.

Since there were four carriers
involved in the battle,

the way we heard it,
three had come back,

although one was severely damaged.

But the Anglo-American side
was saying that all four had been sunk.

This left some doubts in our minds.

We pressed the navy
to give us more details,

but they stuck
to their original announcement.

(speaks Japanese)

(translator) I was a news cameraman
in the Midway battle.

When we got back to our base
in the Japan Sea,

we were not even allowed
to write any letters.

The wounded were kept
in the isolation wards.

A top-secret order said that nothing
could be talked of the Midway battle,

not even within the navy itself.

I was virtually kept prisoner

for about a month and a half
after returning to Japan.

As a journalist, I was kept
under particularly strict surveillance

because we were reputedly great talkers
and loose with our tongues.

And I was kept from going back to Tokyo
while the rest of the war lasted.

The true situation was never broadcast
from the NHK, of course.

Every news… broadcast

was strictly censored in those days.

The general public only knew
that the Japanese army and navy

kept winning every battle they fought.

(narrator) No news, just propaganda.

Only one outcome was imaginable

in the conflict ceaselessly portrayed
in the propaganda films.

The white oppressors of Oriental people
overcome by the brave Japanese soldier.

(shouts in Japanese)

(shouting in Japanese)

(narrator)
The spartan Japanese soldier, in turn,

overcome by contempt and rage
at his white enemy's soft living.

(shouts in Japanese)

(band plays dirge)

(narrator) Tokyo, 5 June 1943.

The state funeral
for Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto,

the great commander

who had masterminded the victory
at Pearl Harbour.

Yamamoto died a hero,
the Japanese people were told,

in the front line,
meeting death gallantly in a war plane.

His loss was greater
than many battleships.

But this first public admission
of a defeat,

although represented
as only symbolic of heroism,

hid grimmer truths of which
Yamamoto himself had been well aware.

He knew that the enemy's material
superiority, once fully mobilised,

would be overwhelming.

At Pearl Harbour, he had gambled
that the war would be a short one.

At Midway, the gamble was lost.

Yamamoto had been shot down in skies
now swarming with enemy planes,

over seas now dominated
by the enemy's navy.

By 1944, the scales had tipped
fully against Japan.

Metal had become
a precious war commodity

too valuable for ornament or ceremony.

The war had been fought
to secure raw materials

for a land where they were scarce—
above all, for oil.

But now the resources General Tojo had
boasted would flow from their conquests

were getting no nearer to Japan
than the bottom of the ocean.

Not enough got through
to keep the war machine going.

And food was scarce.

The official daily ration
of 1500 calories, subsistence level,

was often not met.

The rice harvest
was the worst for 50 years.

Starvation hovered close.

The victories of 1941 had placed Japan
behind a vast protective ring,

defended in death.

By the middle of 1944,

General MacArthur's amphibious armies
had reduced this to an inner ring

hinging on the island of Saipan.

Saipan, within flying distance of Japan,

was claimed by the Japanese military
to be a shield and an impregnable one.

It was vital that it should be.

(speaks Japanese)

(translator) It was realised
that if Saipan was lost,

we would be
in a very difficult position.

The importance of Saipan
was that once it fell,

the war would be
right in front of Japan's eyes.

Japan would come within bombing range
of US planes.

It was an absolutely vital
defence area for Japan.

(narrator) On 15 June 1944,

after five days of saturation
bombardment by sea and air,

American assault troops stormed ashore.

As always, the Japanese garrison
fought to the last.

Here, for the first time,
Japanese civilians—

women and children—
were caught up in the battle.

Some, dazed and docile, submitted.

Saipan had deep-water harbours,
it had two airfields.

Every rock was defended.

In three weeks, to take an island
only 85 square miles in area,

the Americans
lost 15,000 dead and wounded.

25,000 Japanese defenders
died to a man.

And some civilians, like many soldiers,
chose suicide rather than surrender.

They died in vain. Saipan was taken.

Even before the last Japanese had died,

American bombers were ready
to take off for the mainland.

The truth was now too close even for
the Japanese high command to conceal it.

(speaks Japanese)

(narrator) The situation, they told
the people, was grave but not hopeless.

But the sacred homeland itself
was now directly threatened.

The enemy, schoolchildren learned,
was within striking distance by air.

The time had come for all,
young and old,

to meet the threat with
the same defiance as their fighting men.

Only a handful of trained pilots
remained of Japan's once proud air army,

built for attack not defence.

When war began,
their Zero fighters had ruled the skies.

Now they were outdated and outgunned.

These men pitted their machines
against giant American Superfortresses

which now attacked the homeland.

They were young and brave,
but they were very few.

(shouting in Japanese)

(man speaks Japanese)

(translator) I felt that a Zero fighter

was to me what a sword
was to the samurai,

and I felt that I must
manipulate the plane

just as if it were my own body.

And I also believed that the cockpit
was a secret place

which would be my death place.

When we went on an attack,
we never took parachutes.

This was because we believed

we should never become prisoners
when shot down over enemy positions.

From ancient days, it was the belief
of the Japanese warrior

that to be taken prisoner alive
is sinful.

We, too, were always taught
that the modern Japanese soldier

should never become prisoner
because it is the greatest disgrace.

(narrator)
With the imperial navy shattered,

the Saipan shield pierced,
the Philippines conquered,

only the islands of Iwo Jima
and, finally, Okinawa,

were left to bar the Allied advance
on Japan proper.

By April 1945, Iwo Jima had been taken.

Now an American army, protected by
massed warships, threatened Okinawa,

the last island before Japan.

In a desperate throw
to stave off the ultimate assault,

Japan once more
summoned its young men

to fight and die
as their ancestors had done.

Special squadrons were formed.

The kamikaze—men of the divine wind—

named for the typhoon

which had destroyed the invasion force
of Kublai Khan centuries before.

They drank a last cup of rice wine
and set off to die.

Their aircraft had been converted
into flying bombs.

Their mission was to crash them

onto the decks of enemy warships
round Okinawa.

(speaks Japanese)

(translator) As a commander,
I'm often asked

whether I went through hell
in sending out these pilots.

But, actually, the opposite is the case.

We had a lot of pilots who volunteered,

but it was only a very few
who could leave on one attack.

And so it was more difficult
to choose a selected few.

All the other volunteers said,
“Send me! Send me!”

So it's difficult
to ask these people not selected

if they'll wait until another day.

On the other hand, those taking part
in the day's attack

were in very high spirits,

and so there's no difficulty
in sending these men out.

But unlike an ordinary attack,

these kamikaze pilots, once they
took off, they never come back.

And so there was this sadness
in knowing

that the people you were sending out
you'd never see again.

(narrator) The kamikaze
were shot out of the air.

They did severe damage, but failed.

The Americans invaded Okinawa.

Okinawa was only 350 miles
from metropolitan Japan.

The nearer to the mainland,
the more fanatical the fighting.

On Okinawa,
only 7,000 Japanese soldiers survived.

Over 100,000 died,
many by their own hand,

and 75,000 civilians.

Mrs Yonaha, a student,

was ready to die, too.

(speaks Japanese)

(translator) All around us,
the soldiers and the inhabitants

were running helter-skelter,
obviously confused.

For some reason, I followed the soldiers
and we got into a small shelter.

It was more to get out of the rain
than anything.

We found several other soldiers
already in the hideout.

We could hear the US army calling us
through loudspeakers to come out.

Whoever it was
spoke a very beautiful Japanese,

but we had been taught from a long time

that we should never surrender
and become prisoners of war.

So we let these broadcasts continue
all day long without any let-up.

The shouts came from the sea—
“Come out. Come out.”

They were saying,
“We will not inflict any harm

on women and children and old people,

so please come out.”

I had already decided to die
and felt that I should commit suicide.

One of the soldiers had a hand grenade
and said, “Let's all commit suicide.”

And we agreed.

Once we had made that decision,

I felt a great relief
and a calmness come over me.

At first, of course,
I did not want to kill myself.

I wanted to escape somehow
and keep on living.

But the loudspeakers began to increase
in intensity and in volume.

We felt that the Americans
were coming in closer and closer,

so I asked the soldier to kill me,
together with himself.

Just when I was waiting for the soldier
to pull the pin,

one of the other soldiers
took out a sword

and started waving it around saying,

“You women and children get out.
You shouldn't die here.”

We were quite startled
by the sudden shouting,

and so we stood up
and took a step backwards.

The place in which we were hiding
was very small,

so one step back
and we were outside the shelter.

We looked up and saw two American
soldiers pointing pistols at us.

They didn't say anything,
but kept gesturing with their pistols.

“Come out. Come out.”

The soldiers we had left inside

asked us not to tell the US soldiers
they were hiding

because all of them
were going to commit suicide.

(narrator)
On 2 July 1945, Okinawa fell.

In the home islands, the Japanese people
braced themselves for the storm to come.

The first Superfortresses over Tokyo
a few months earlier

were only the harbingers
of hundreds of others.

These were now to spew out
fire and high explosive

in a sustained aerial assault,

systematically razing the cities
of Japan one after the other.

There it is, the end of the line.

(narrator) In formations
of up to 2,000 at a time,

round the clock, virtually unopposed,
they laid Japan's cities waste.

Beneath them, the rush
to air-raid shelters as the sirens blew

became a dreaded daily routine.

(woman) I first ran into the shelter,

but I didn't rely upon it
because it was very small and weak.

All people in the shelter were so tired

and always pale and silent and…

What I say?

The children… not so crying

because they were too tired
and too terrible to cry, I think.

So they were all silent.

(narrator) Japan's wooden cities
burned easily,

and their citizens in them.

This man-made inferno in Tokyo

was worse even than that following
the great earthquake of 1923,

the capital's worst natural disaster.

(woman) Some distance from my house,

there was a lot of men died.

And my best friend lost her father

and brother and sister at that night.

And her mother, suicide after that.

The next morning,

I thought I want to see my house.

So I crossed the bridge
and went to my house.

And whole houses were destroyed.

I was so tired…

…to think anything bad,
but I hated the war.

And I hated the war.

I was standing in pain

and in silence, too.

(narrator)
Tokyo was a charred wasteland.

Only steel and concrete survived.

16 square miles of the capital
were flattened.

The stench of death
hung heavy over the ruins.

In one raid, in one night,

over 70,000 perished.

In air raids on Japan, nearly
a quarter of a million civilians died.

Eight million were made homeless.

Man and woman, boy and girl,

the survivors prepared
to defend their homeland,

to drive the invaders back into the sea
with wooden rifles,

bows and arrows, bamboo spears.

But the end, when it came,
was to be from the sky—

irresistible,

unimaginable,

mushroom-shaped.