Target: Rabaul: The Allied Siege of Japan's Most Infamous Stronghold, March 1943 - August 1945

by Bruce Gamble

  THE 6TH FIELD Kempeitai—approximately 280 officers and men—had been established in Tokyo at the beginning of the year. Led by Col. Satoru Kikuchi, the unit departed Japan on February 11 aboard Aden Maru, an aging transport described as “a poor excuse for a ship.” It sailed from Hiroshima without escort, which angered the military police. They felt they deserved better.

  To call the Kempeitai an elite organization would be an understatement. As a branch of the Imperial Army, the police units wielded extensive power. Arrests could occur on the slightest pretenses. Torture, if not overtly sanctioned, was taught procedurally in the training syllabus. Regular army members showed deference to even the lowest ranks of the Kempeitai. Japanese civilians lived in fear of them. During the 1930s, as Japan’s government became increasingly militant, the duties of the Kempeitai expanded to include matters of state security. This led to comparisons with the Gestapo in Nazi Germany and the KGB in the Soviet Union, though actual links between the organizations were few.

  Aden Maru arrived at Rabaul on March 27. Kikuchi and his officers proceeded directly to Eighth Area Army headquarters to pay their respects to Lt. Gen. Hitoshi Imamura, the commanding general, but his chief of staff, Maj. Gen. Rimpei Kato, informed them that Imamura was busy conducting “strategy sessions.” He also said that the navy had jurisdiction over Rabaul regarding police matters; therefore, the unit would fall under the operational control of the Southeast Area Fleet.

  Unperturbed, Kikuchi and his men established their headquarters in the center of the business district.

  Known in happier days as the Ah Teck tailor shop, the Kempeitai compound overlooked one of Chinatown’s busiest intersections. The site consisted of four buildings arranged around a large central yard. The main two-story building, which fronted Casuarina Avenue, housed the administrative offices, interrogation rooms, officers’ mess, and a small dispensary on the first floor, with officers’ quarters upstairs. A long wooden building on the north side of the compound, with open-air ventilation under the eaves and innumerable pinholes in the rusted metal roof, contained six rectangular cells for detainees—which occasionally included soldiers of the local garrison under arrest for various infractions.

  AFTER INTERROGATION BY a Kempeitai officer and a lengthy speech on the weaknesses of the United States, McMurria and his crew were taken to their cell. There was no furniture in the nine-by-eighteen room, except a box with a hinged lid and a large hole in the center. Beneath the lid was a simple bucket, the benjo. This was the communal toilet, to be emptied daily by one of the prisoners. The unpleasant chore represented the only opportunity for a POW to leave the cell for a few minutes.

  When the door of the cell slammed shut behind the captives, Frank Wynne asked a rhetorical question: “What was all that Bushido shit?”

  The answer was slow to come. During daylight hours the prisoners had to sit at attention, their backs to the walls in line with the vertical boards, though they soon learned to slack off whenever the guards displayed a relaxed attitude. There was no bedding; everyone slept on the wooden floor. Aside from emptying the bucket, the only breaks occurred when a small door slid open and eight balls of rice appeared. Occasionally a thin soup was provided, and on Sundays a small quantity of hard tack and a few lumps of sugar accompanied the rice balls. To pass the time, the men told stories, recited movie lines, and tallied “kills” as they picked lice out of their hair and clothing.

  The days blended into weeks. Desperate for any scraps of information about the outside world, the prisoners were excited to learn that two other Allied airmen were being held at the compound. Soon thereafter, they managed to communicate with the newcomers in whispers, and eventually the two men were moved into the same cell. But their appearance was depressing. Members of Marine Scout Bombing Squadron 143, based on Guadalcanal, Capt. Alexander R. Berry and his gunner, Cpl. Cephas L. Kelly, had been shot down over Bougainville on March 1. After three months of beatings, malnourishment, and illness, both were in poor shape. “Kelly was only 18 years old and a walking skeleton,” recalled McMurria. “He couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds and he was 5 feet, 10 inches tall. Small sores literally covered his body. There was hardly a square inch of flesh without a sore, all very visible for us to see as he wore a fundoshi, the Japanese name for a loin cloth.”

  McMurria and his crew began to break out in sores, too. They teased poor Kelly that he was contagious, but the real culprit was their weakening immune systems. Poor sanitation led to bacterial infections, exacerbated by scratching at insect bites; and with poor nutrition, the prisoners began to show signs of beriberi, a disease caused by severe vitamin deficiency. The condition of the two marines, who had been captives only a little longer than McMurria and his crew, was disheartening.

  In late June, another airman came to the Kempeitai compound. Twenty-one-year-old Lt. Jack K. Wisener weighed about two hundred pounds when he joined the other POWs. A bombardier in the 43rd Bomb Group, he thought he was the only survivor of a B-17 shot down over Rabaul on the night of June 13. Captured after nine days in the jungle, he was initially held by the 81st Naval Garrison Unit, an element of the Eighth Base Force, headquartered in the former W. R. Carpenters store on Malaguna Avenue. Later, the navy turned Wisener over to the Kempeitai—and that was lucky for him.

  During 1942, before the Kempeitai compound was established, all the Allied airmen captured near Rabaul were confined in the navy prison under extremely harsh conditions. A fortunate few were sent to Japan for further interrogation, but most were eliminated in mass executions conducted with katana swords or bayonets. By the end of the year, no captured airmen were believed alive at the compound. More downed aviators were captured during 1943 and beyond, but only a few were held for longer than a month or so. Some were sent to Japan, and a few others were handed over to the Kempeitai. Most were executed. There is no evidence that any Allied airmen were held in the navy compound after early 1944.

  For the prisoners in the Kempeitai compound, Wisener’s transfer brought a chance to hear some news. Having listened to enemy propaganda for weeks, the prisoners were convinced that the Japanese were winning. But Wisener thrilled them with the news that an enemy convoy had been annihilated in the Bismarck Sea, with a dozen ships sunk and thousands of Japanese killed. The information proved immensely uplifting. “Nothing short of a full course meal could have suited us better,” remembered McMurria.

  But there was something Wisener didn’t know. Ever since the costly Walker mission in early January, the heavy bombers had been attacking Rabaul only at night, primarily because the enemy lacked an effective night fighter. This had held true for almost half a year, but in late May, a new type of fighter had begun stalking the night skies over Rabaul. It was stealthy, giving bomber crews no inkling of trouble until their plane was already shattered and falling in flames.

  The paradigm had shifted, and more losses would occur before anyone figured out what was killing the bombers.

  *This was the date of capture according to Martindale, whereas McMurria testified that they were captured in late February. Martindale’s timeline is more logical, based on factors such as the arrival of the 6th Field Kempeitai at Rabaul in late March 1943.

  CHAPTER 5

  Lethal Moonlight

  IN THE WEEKS following the conclusion of I-Go Sakusen, but before Yamamoto’s death was announced, the routine at Rabaul seemed almost normal. Reconnaissance flights went out to assess the damage to the enemy, and the survivors of the Third Fleet units returned to their aircraft carriers.

  Initially, the Japanese believed that because of Operation I-Go, “enemy transportation and the threat of hostile planes in the Southeast area had been checked temporarily.” But it soon became obvious that Allied air strength and shipping were unaffected. In fact, attacks by V Bomber Command against Rabaul, Lae, Wewak, and other strongholds intensified as the Allies gained supremacy of the skies over New Guinea. Japanese convoys and even single ships were attacked relentlessly. The Imperial
Navy would later admit that protecting shipments to New Guinea, particularly Lae, had become “extremely difficult.” They resorted to drastic measures, even making supply runs with submarines, which possessed a fraction of the cargo capacity of surface vessels. These too sometimes failed due to “harassment by enemy planes.”

  The Japanese were not weak. Despite the departure of planes loaned for I-Go, aerial strength in the region remained potent. In early 1943 several JAAF fighter, bomber, and reconnaissance units arrived, and construction battalions started building two new airdromes at Rabaul. One of the army fields, located near the Keravat experimental farm southwest of Rabaul, was eventually halted because of drainage problems; the other, near Rapopo plantation, overlooked Blanche Bay at Lesson Point, southeast of Rabaul. It served as a regional base for JAAF bombers and as a staging area for units on their way to New Guinea. By late March 1943, more than fifty Type 1 fighters (Nakajima Ki-43 “Oscars”) were operational, along with sixteen Type 99 light bombers (Kawasaki Ki-48 “Lilys”) and seventeen Type 97 heavy bombers (Mitsubishi Ki-21 “Sallys”). Additional army units were poised to arrive at Rabaul by the end of April, including the 68th Flying Regiment, the first to be equipped with the new inline-engine Type 3 fighter (Kawasaki Ki-61 “Tony”).

  The arrival of JAAF units was not the only improvement to Rabaul’s air strength. During I-Go and throughout April, Vice Admiral Kusaka’s land-based Eleventh Air Fleet relied on two primary components, the 21st and 26th Air Flotillas. Each consisted of a tactical element (the 1st Air Attack Force and the 6th Air Attack Force, respectively), formed around three air groups that specialized in interception, attack, and reconnaissance. At the beginning of May, that overall strength grew by approximately one-third with the return of the 25th Air Flotilla/5th Air Attack Force. Depleted by attrition after months of combat over the Solomons and New Guinea, the flotilla had returned to Japan the previous November. Now, after six months of recuperation and training, the flotilla redeployed to Rabaul.* Ground personnel and staff arrived first. On May 10 more than one hundred new aircraft flew in: fifty-nine Type 0 fighters and seven Type 2 reconnaissance planes of Air Group 251, along with forty-seven Type 1 land attack aircraft of Air Group 702.

  Vice Admiral Kusaka had a powerful force available, yet his fighters were still unable to stop the American heavy bombers and their harassing night attacks. By this time, the garrison had endured several months of nighttime disruptions, the effects of which were almost as harmful as bombs. Chronic fatigue led to elevated stress and lowered immunity, which caused greater susceptibility to infection and disease. A prime example was the case of Vice Adm. Nishizo Tsukahara, commander of the Eleventh Air Fleet for much of 1942. Physically exhausted by the stress of the campaigns for Guadalcanal and New Guinea, his sleep often disturbed by American bombers, Tsukahara became so ill from dengue fever, malaria, and gastrointestinal ailments that he was sent home to Japan. His replacement, Kusaka, also had to spend many nights in an underground bunker. He typically began his workday at 0500, but on the nights when air raids disturbed his schedule, Kusaka would arise an hour later and perform calisthenics to wake up.

  Most of the night attacks were directed against the airdromes, but the main base at Lakunai was close to Rabaul’s eastern neighborhoods. Garrison personnel could hear the disconcerting whistle of falling bombs, and the buildings shook with rolling concussions. Bombs that fell short or long of the target often landed in the eastern neighborhoods. Occasionally the town itself was targeted, particularly the waterfront district with its hundreds of warehouses and supply dumps.

  The POWs in the Kempeitai compound, located only a mile from the harbor, were at risk from friendly fire. McMurria would later recall that “many a stray bomb came our way.” Fortunately the B-17s and B-24s made individual runs at night, as opposed to carpet-bombing. This reduced risk to the prisoners, but McMurria nevertheless issued a formal request to Colonel Kikuchi for air raid shelters. He mentioned the Geneva Convention, unaware that the Japanese were not signatories. Kikuchi denied the request, but within a few months he would have a change of heart.

  The nighttime bombing raids also had a detrimental effect on Rabaul’s brothels. Soon after the Japanese captured the stronghold, the military had established officially sanctioned “special purpose houses” for authorized personnel and civilians. There were at least seven brothels in Rabaul—three for the navy and four for the army—staffed with conscripted prostitutes known as “comfort women.” Sent to Rabaul by the shipload, they were usually Koreans or Formosans hired under false pretenses. One brothel, named the East Magnificent Love Line, was located on Casuarina Avenue directly across from the Kempeitai compound. It served naval officers and senior administration officials, who paid two and a half yen for admission. Noncoms visited the West Magnificent Love Line and paid two yen.

  Warrant Officer Kazuo Tsunoda, a veteran fighter pilot in Air Group 582, often spent nights with an impressionable young conscript. His memoir provides insights about their liaisons, particularly her wartime attitudes. During a night of bombing, they found their dissimilar lives hanging together in an unexpected balance:

  Soon after we met, we received a B-24 raid in the middle of the night. Their purpose was more to disturb our sleep than to bombard us, using small-size bombs in waves. Deprived of sleep, our air defense unit was engaged in anti-air combat all night.

  I suggested to Wakamaru that we go to the shelter at the comfort house, but she said, “I am not going. You go, please.”

  I said, “What’s the matter with you? It’s dangerous.”

  Then she said, “If I go into the shelter, I can’t be killed.”

  I wondered why, and asked many things about her. She told me that most of the comfort women who were stationed in Rabaul at that time … were from the northern part of Korea, around the Ganzan area. They were collected as female labor corps volunteers at first. When they arrived at Yokohama, they were asked their preference: to work for munitions factories in Japan, or for the “comfort corps” at the front. Some stouthearted girls, not knowing what the actual work was, but assuming it would be cooking or laundry or doing other odd jobs, chose to go to the front.

  On the ship heading for Truk, the girls were told what their job would be. They were astonished, but it was too late. In the ship, they were educated every day that their duty was also for the sake of the Emperor. When they arrived at Rabaul via Truk, most of them gave in. Only four or five girls refused to obey for a while. But now there was only one who was still adamant and refused to give in, saying that her fiancé was waiting for her in her hometown. She was doing laundry and cooking for the other girls.

  “I decided to be a substitute wife for soldiers for the sake of the Emperor,” said Wakamaru. “Some of my peers cannot speak Japanese well, but I graduated from a girl’s high school in Keijyo, and know mostly about life in Japan. So, I try to be like a wife in Japan.”

  Then she continued that she did not want to inform her family. She sent them brief postcards saying that she was fine, working in a factory, but because of military secrets she could not write any more details. She addressed these cards in care of the Yokohama Post Office. She was paid a lot, but there was no way to spend the money. It was not good to send more than 10 yen to her family, either. Normally girls could not possibly earn more than that. Their supervisor suggested that girls save their money and open a restaurant or such in the Yokohama area in the future. Most of the girls were convinced and decided not to return to their hometown. Wakamaru said, “According to our supervisor, should we die in action here, our rank will advance to the next level, and we will be publicly announced as special nurses and enshrined at the Yasukuni Shrine.* Rather than having a store, I would rather be enshrined at Yasukuni and have the public announcement sent honorably to my parents. In the shelter, I can’t die in action.”

  Even though I faced death day after day in air battles, I had not thought of death of my own accord. I fought for my country with my all
might, but I also fought because I did not want to shut down and die.

  I believed this girl, who had made up her mind to die. After listening to her, I could not run away by myself. The face of my wife appeared in the back of my mind for a moment, but I decided to die with Wakamaru if the worst should happen, as a testimony of apology on behalf of the Emperor, as this girl had accepted her life for the sake of the Emperor.

  Wakamaru was so delighted, I thought she would jump for joy.

  “Really, are you staying with me? I heard that if a couple was bombarded and died together, the Navy will recognize them as married, even for sleeping together only for one night. The Navy would give us a naval funeral. I might be enshrined as a wife of an air officer at the Yasukuni shrine,” she said.

  I straightened my clothes and lay down quietly. Random bombing continued intermittently all night. A bomb, about 30 kilograms, fell near the comfort house. The loud noise of splinters falling on the roof and the voices of people on the second floor were heard. There must be somebody else in the house, too.

  Wakamaru sprang up and went out to see them. After a while she came back with cheerful eyes and said, “About seven girls did not go to the shelter tonight. But they are all sleeping alone. The girl right above us had a splinter in her leg, and has just been taken to the hospital. Poor girl.” Yet Wakamaru looked happy. “I’ll be bombarded, bombarded tonight,” she said, as if she was humming. She lay beside me, buried her face in my chest and seriously prayed in a whisper, “Please, god, hit me tonight.” She was really a sweet girl.

  Thinking how her fate could change for the better, I was also praying, but guiltily at heart: “If a bomb hits me, I cannot help it. But hopefully it will miss me.”

  Formerly a member of the 2nd Air Group, Tsunoda survived ten months of combat in the South Pacific and was sent home in early June, 1943. A few weeks before he left, he saw the 25th Air Flotilla return to Rabaul after its six-month hiatus in Japan.