The 19 February 1945 American invasion of Iwo Jima in the Bonin islands was one of those peculiar events that means different things to different people. The Bonin archipelago (also called the Ogasawara islands) is a volcanic desert: Iwo Jima, the largest of the islands, had no natural water sources and no place that could be used as a harbor. The only reason anyone ever went there before the 1940s was because it was empty. An American whaling outpost was established there in the 1830s after Spain and Britain had laid claim to it over the centuries, and Japan was the last to claim ownership in 1862. No permanent residents were ever “permanent,” but transient fisher folk.
By early 1945, it was clear that the Americans were headed for the home islands of Japan. Japan had fortified the place and built air fields, they realized that they could not hold the Bonins. The Japanese 31st Army, therefore, would be sacrificed in place. The scanty air units were withdrawn in the face of fifty-odd American aircraft carriers.
At the time, the reasoning given for the invasion was to provide a fighter escort base for the B-29s attacking Japan out of the Marianas islands, and as an emergency landing field for crippled bombers. About halfway between Japan and Saipan, the northernmost of the Marianas, this claim passes basic geographic muster, But since the place was useless as a base for either the Army ground forces or the Navy, did the Air Force really need a base with no natural water?
Even the “fighter escorts for the bombers” claim was dubious. Army fighters had the range to reach some of the big Honshu Island of Japan from the Bonins, but lacked the navigational equipment necessary for long flights over water. Further, the Air Forces were changing tactics since their European-style high level daylight bombing wasn’t working in the Pacific.
After some 25,000 casualties (nearly 7,000 dead) in the six weeks fighting for Iwo Jima (Chichi Jima, a smaller rock with fewer flat spaces, its own water and a small harbor to the north, fell almost bloodlessly in less than a week) it raises a question: how many Marine lives does it take to save Army Air Force lives? Of the 2,600 bombers that landed there, less than half “needed” the emergency fields, according to one estimate. In this view, then, some 13,000 Army air crewman were saved. The Japanese lost over 18,000 over the sulfurous wastelands. “Worth the cost” has a whole new meaning with such numbers. Furthermore, there is a school of thought that suggests that the three Marine divisions used in the Bonins were used up to be kept away from Douglas MacArthur in the Philippines, or his plan for Formosa. Idle, those 50,000 men and supporting fleets were a tempting tool. Deployed, they were beyond MacArthur’s reach.
Ultimately, however, like Peleliu, the Japanese needed the Bonins more than the Americans did, and that was the point. The Americans were taking strategic targets from the Japanese because they could, and each one hurt. But too, like Okinawa would in a few months, it demonstrated to the Marines what the Army had found out on Saipan: the Japanese would fight to the death; military, civilian, man, woman, child–it mattered not. What Were They Thinking: A Fresh Look at Japan At War, 1941-45 is a study of the Japanese mindset, available at fine bookstores everywhere.
By 18 February 1938, the Japanese Army had exhausted itself in Nanking, and about 300,000 Chinese civilians had been dead, maimed, mutilated, or raped to death in Nanking, and the first reports were reaching the world outside. Refugees, diplomats, the odd reporter, and the sheer volume of horror carried the story, but it was not widely reported. Japan, to this day, denies the scale, and is generally silent about the issue.
More than seventy years later, the issue of Japanese war guilt is indisputable, but the issue of exactly what atrocities were committed is not, especially in Japan. The west insists that massacres like Nanking happened, and that the many scores of perpetrators be punished (albeit many already have been). Japan insists that these incidents were exaggerated, that “comfort women” were volunteers, and that Unit 731 was not a biological warfare outfit that used humans as guinea pigs. At minimum, Japan often suggests, Japan was only doing what was necessary to survive.
While the gods of Expediency often is worshiped in wartime, that does not excuse atrocity. To say “I know you are but what am I” to accusers holding evidence of barbarity (deflecting guilt by saying “so did you”) is just frivolous. While the Americans burned Tokyo and a score of other Japanese cities with firebombs and torpedoed hospital ships that routinely carried ammunition, the Soviets invading Manchuria in 1945 were as brutal to the Japanese and Chinese they encountered as they were to the Germans, Yes, these crimes were committed in the name of the Expediency gods, but that does not excuse Japan’s denials.
Japan’s excuse-making deflection may be intolerable, but so is the litany of finger-pointing every year when some prominent Japanese visits the Yasukuni shrine. The west insists that this is a place of worship for the “killers” of WWII. Trouble is, it’s for them…as well as for every other Japanese who ever died in any battle, including WWI and the Peking Relief in 1900, side by side with the west’s finest fighting men.
The reason Nanking matters even to this day is though Japan was guilty, so is popular perception of a war that had enough tragedy to go around. No one has to compound it by making up things, or by denying the undeniable.
What Were They Thinking: A Fresh Look and Japan At War, 1945-45 is a study of Japan’s motivations and methods up to and including WWII. Available in hardback and paperback at fine booksellers everywhere.
On 11 February in the year 660 BCE, it is said that the emperor Jimmu founded the empire of Japan. Jimmu is said to have been descended from the sun goddess Amaterasu through her grandson Ninigi, and from the storm god Susanoo. All of this is founded on myth, but far more reliable sources indicate that the Meiji emperor Mutsuhito’s constitution for the restored Japanese state/empire/arsenal was adopted on this date in 1889.
Most readers think “representative democracy” when they read the word “constitution,” but this is not always the case, and certainly it wasn’t for Japan. The Meiji Constitution was a document that, by intent, ensured the tyranny of the hereditary samurai class by placing veto power for any policy in their hands, and their hands alone. All the samurai had to do was withdraw their war minister (appointed from the ranks of the Army, samurai all), or later the navy minister (ditto) to force the imperial cabinet (selected from the Diet) to reform the government. This they would do, repeatedly, when the governments–especially under the reign of Yoshihito, the weak Taisho emperor that followed the Meiji in 1912–did not support another of their unsanctioned outrages such as grabbing German territory in the Pacific at the outset of WWI, invading Manchuria, then China proper, in 1914, 1932 and 1937, respectively. The process would be repeated during the reign of the Showa emperor Hirohito right up until 1941, when the appointment of General Tojo Hideki as prime minister obviated the need.
Most of the early 20th century was punctuated by assassinations, violent uprisings (food riots were common in japan, averaging two a year for the better part of a thousand years) and attempted coups d’état in Japan that everyone caught in the middle would support any measure that looked like it pointed to stability. To the samurai, of course, this meant them running things. And they “ran things” right up to August of 1945, when their emperor had had enough.
What Were They Thinking: A Fresh Look at Japan at War 1941-45 examines the political reality of the samurai against a backdrop of a world that moved beyond the need for them. Available from fine booksellers everywhere.