The military culture of Showa Japan and other cultural tidbits...

By far the most asked about -- and also the most controversial and misunderstood -- subject my readers have brought up is the kamikaze. In wartime Japan, the word "kamikaze" was not used for the suicide squadrons. They were instead referred to as "Shimpu," an alternative reading of the characters for "Divine Wind," or more commonly by "tokkotai," an abreviation of "Tokubetsu Kogeki-tai" (Special Attack Squadron).

Instead of using a lot of dry explanations and the usual textbook quotations, I've decided to include the thoughts and feelings of the Japanese pilots, themselves. I've taken these excerpts from various print sources, which I will cite in a comprehensive bibliography once the culture section is complete.

Please understand I am in no way an apologist for the military actions of Imperial Japan. I am, however, interested in the complex --and often contradictory-- thoughts of the men who flew combat aircraft in the Pacific War.

I've written the pilots' names in the Western fashion, given name first, surname last. Here is the heart and soul of the Japanese combat pilot, in his own words.

Saburo Sakai, born the same
year as my grandfather, 1916.

Saburo Sakai, Imperial Navy ace, 64 confirmed kills:

"Kamikaze is a surprise attack, according to our ancient war tactics. Surprise attacks will be successful the first time, maybe two or three times. But what fool would continue the same attacks for ten months? Emperor Hirohito must have realized it. He should have said 'Stop.'

"As for kamikaze attacks, those who ordered and encouraged them, those in commanding positions, lied. Every pilot volunteered for a kamikaze unit? 'I go! I go! I go!' -- did everyone say that? That's a lie!

"Even now, many faces of my students come up when I close my eyes. So many students are gone. Why did headquarters continue such silly attacks for ten months! Fools! Genda, [Minoru Genda, the Navy strategist] who went to America -- all those men lied that all men volunteered for kamikaze units. They lied.

"That's why Americans think we are strange. Where are the people who will volunteer to die? No one wants to die. But if a pilot was ordered, we were all military men. We would go. I went, too.* The Japanese Army lost 2,500 men. The Japanese Navy lost 2,500 men. They all died, while being disappointed."

*Sakai was once assigned to a kamikaze mission, but he and his flight encountered severe weather and were forced to abort and turn back for Japan.

"Soon after I was sent to Yokaichi [a base in western Shiga Prefecture, Japan, where light bomber training was given] I became a fully-fledged flying officer, and so I was eligible to eat in the Officers' Mess. One subject of discussion which was often raised at mealtimes was the tokkotai mission from Clark Field.* Several times, our commanding officer remarked that it was necessary for us to work out in our minds whether we would be willing to do the same thing, but at that time I had no idea that the army was seriously planning to set up its own suicide squadrons.

It was not until November [of 1944] that we first heard about it. We were summoned to listen to a special speech from the commanding officer. He explained to us that the army was to set up its own tokkotai, and that it was starting to train pilots for the purpose at Hokota Air Base, on the Pacific coast [of Japan]. Pilots from our base, he said, were being invited to volunteer for the tokko squadrons. Then he went into one of the hangars, and we were called in one by one to see him. He gave us each two pieces of paper, and we were asked to write our name on one of them to indicate our feelings about joining the tokkotai. One piece of paper said 'eager.' The other one said 'very eager.'

'In that case,' I said to the commander, 'I hope that you will not mind if I only write myself down as being "eager."'

As far as I know, everyone else in the squad did the same thing. No one really wanted to join the tokkotai. Of course we knew that, as pilots, we had a 99 percent chance of being killed anyway, but that 1 percent hope of surviving made all the difference in the world. If you have a 1 percent hope of survival you look at life completely differently from the way that you look at it when you know for certain that you are going to set out on a journey and never come back.

A few days later, our squadron was divided in two. The better pilots were sent to Hokota to train for the tokkotai, and the rest remained at Yokaichi. Luckily for me, I was not one of the better pilots. So for the time being I stayed at Yokaichi and went on practicing my dive-bombing."

*The first officially planned kamikaze mission was carried out on 25 October, 1944, by a tokkotai set up by the naval air force at Clark Field, in the Phillippines.

Saito was later assigned to a tokko squadron, but fortunately, the end of the war arrived before he could fly a suicide mission.

"Japan seemed to want Leyte to be the last battle, and wanted to have a peace treaty. But before Japan finished the war, in the last battle, the Japanese wanted to chase the Americans away from Leyte, and this would then bind a peace treatment.

"To achieve such a big victory, a small number of pilots was not enough. Japan sent out three squadrons. I thought if all the members in the air forces' squadrons sent to the Phillippines died, the Emperor would put an end to the war. Therefore, when I escorted a kamikaze unit, I thought this would be the end.

"Some of the commanding officers might have shared my opinion, but there were various different opinions among the officers. That's why the kamikaze mission continued for a long time."

"I objected. Kamikaze pilots were trained mainly at Akeno Flying School. Those pilots who actually flew kamikaze missions, they were innocent and pure. They were brave. Particularly those who were trained in the Akeno center and had an adequate training period. Their case was different from those who were suddenly ordered to fly kamikaze missions like a day before the attack.

"But as for my own group, I couldn't accept such an order from the center to deliver fighters for kamikaze missions only because there were not enough left in the center.

"If I had let that happen, the 100th Wing would have lost its military capability immediately. Our wing would be useless. If this wing was broken down bit by bit for kamikaze missions, what would be the point of having trained this wing, organized the wing, and taken the pain of transporting the wing? Why waste our efforts?"

Because of his objections, both Yonaga and his wing commander were sacked. His successor complied with the COS's request and provided 53 of the 100th Wing's pilots for kamikaze missions.

However, when speaking of the American attack on the Japanese homeland, Yonaga displays his own personal loyalty to the Empire:

"If headquarters had ordered me to fly kamikaze missions when the U.S. forces attacked Japan, I, as a group commander, would have fought as a kamikaze pilot. That was my attitude."

Sadamu Komachi, fighter pilot
of carrier Shokaku.

Warrant Officer Sadamu Komachi, a fighter pilot based on the carrier Shokaku (in 1942 the most powerful aircraft carrier in the world), shares his thoughts on the ambivalence of many Japanese pilots toward kamikaze missions:

"From the middle of the war on, compared to the number of planes which made kamikaze attacks, the results were not very satisfactory. The losses were greater than the glories.

"I felt so sorry for those pilots who died. Toward the end, the level of pilots -- experienced pilots who had been flying more than 1,000 hours -- decreased greatly. Inexperienced pilots who had just finished training made up 80 percent of the total pilots at the end of the war. And these inexperienced pilots were assigned to a kamikaze unit. Their skills and experience were not enough.

"They received an order to attack an enemy's carrier, but they did not know how to react, they had never experienced battles against the Americans. But they had to fly through so many bullets coming from a carrier which they had never seen before. Victories were not achieved as expected.

"I feel deeply for the dead. There was no strategy other than making suicidal attacks, carrying bombs. The Commanding Officer had no other strategy. It was a dying struggle. But, in fact, there was no other way to go other than kamikaze attacks. The Japanese chiefs-of-staff and commanding officers were struggling very hard -- the strategy was 'Must is Master.'"

According to Komachi, the kamikaze orders stretched all across the military, when it came to defense of the homeland:

"At the decisive battle for the mainland, the order for the Navy was to fight until the last minute and die. On the coast. Our tension was immense."

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Cultural notes