Killing the Rising Sun

by Bill O'Reilly

  The Soviet goal is to advance into China from three different directions, meeting up in Manchuria’s capital city of Changchun—or Hsinking, meaning “new capital,” as the Japanese have renamed it. This is the home of China’s last living emperor, a foppish thirty-nine-year-old with a bizarre fascination for England’s King Henry VIII. When the Japanese conquered parts of China, they installed Emperor Pu Yi as a puppet ruler. It is Joseph Stalin’s intention to install a puppet of his own.2

  The Soviet commander, Marshal Kirill Meretskov, is enjoying his finest hour. The Russian victory in Manchuria will earn Meretskov the Soviet Union’s highest World War II military honor, the Order of Victory. The burly, fish-eyed general led the defeat of the German army at Leningrad, a years-long siege that ended on January 27, 1944. This was an incredible turn of events, because just a little more than two years earlier Meretskov had been imprisoned and tortured by Joseph Stalin, who thought him disloyal.

  Now all is forgiven.

  The all-important transportation hub of Mutanchiang is now within Soviet reach. Pre-invasion planning projected the Russians might reach the city in seventeen days; Meretskov has done it in four. Heavy rains now drench eastern Manchuria, but even the strongest of downpours will not stop the Russian army.

  As an indication of what is to come, Soviet tanks obliterated a thirty-car Japanese relief troop train just this morning. Nine hundred reinforcement soldiers now lie dead in the dirt.

  The last great battle of World War II is under way.

  * * *

  Half a world away in Washington, DC, President Harry Truman is tired of waiting. His surrender counteroffer was cabled to the Japanese the evening of Friday, August 10, but the weekend has come and gone without a Japanese response.

  “We are all on edge waiting for the Japs to answer,” Truman writes in his journal on Saturday, August 11. “Have had a hell of a day.”

  Sunday, August 12, is no better. Starting early on his typical day of rest, the president dons a suit and prepares to conduct official business. “9 a.m.,” Truman’s scheduler will write in the official calendar. “Came to Executive Office to await word on Japanese surrender.”

  Yet nothing happens.

  On Monday, August 13, the president starts work in the Oval Office again at 9:00 a.m. Sensing that the Japanese will not accept his counteroffer, he authorizes the resumption of B-29 bombing raids utilizing conventional and incendiary bombs. Truman also spends the afternoon with Lieutenant General Richard Sutherland, chief of staff for General Douglas MacArthur. The topic of discussion is the upcoming invasion of Japan. But there is another item Truman wishes to discuss with the fifty-one-year-old Sutherland, having to do with a secret plan the president has concocted to have Douglas MacArthur oversee the postwar rebuilding of Japan.

  Meanwhile, as they have for almost a week, exhausted reporters and photographers crowd into the White House press briefing room, awaiting surrender news. If and when Truman makes an announcement, the journalistic horde will race to the Oval Office to shout questions, per custom.

  Outside, on the streets of Washington, rumors of an impending surrender are the talk of the day. In Lafayette Square, just across the street from the White House, citizens hold a vigil, longing to be at the epicenter of events when news of the Japanese capitulation is finally announced.

  And still, there is nothing but silence from Japan.

  Tuesday, August 14, is more of the same.

  August is normally a time when the government goes on holiday to avoid the heat of Washington, but Truman obviously cannot leave. Were he not waiting for World War II to end, Harry S. Truman might be enjoying this summer day in a much cooler location.3

  Truman’s outward behavior is calm. Reporters comment on his “cool stride” and “matter-of-factness.”

  Outside the White House, the crowd in Lafayette Square has now swelled to ten thousand. The press is still on round-the-clock standby, afraid of leaving the White House for even an instant.

  * * *

  Seven thousand miles away in Manchuria, the Imperial Japanese Army and the Soviets are in the midst of a fierce firefight for a place known as Ssutaoling Hill. Strong Japanese resistance has stopped Russian tanks from reaching the summit, so they have regrouped on the slopes and begun a four-hour “concentration of fire” to obliterate the enemy stronghold. The Japanese respond with direct fire and one-man suicide attacks, destroying twenty-one Russian tanks. The battle, however, is soon lost. In the morning, Japanese forces will retreat after five ferocious days of combat, leaving behind only those fanatics who wish to fight to the death.4

  * * *

  In Tokyo, hundreds of thousands of leaflets fall into the streets, dropped by American B-29 bombers. They tell the Japanese people that resistance is no longer realistic.

  Hours later, prompted by the ongoing silence of the Japanese leadership, another massive flight of 821 B-29s thunders unopposed over Tokyo—only this time, their payload is not paper. In an act of redundancy, the Twentieth Air Force bombs what has already been bombed and obliterates what has already been obliterated in a massive show of force that is immediately nicknamed “The Big Finale.”

  By 1:00 p.m. on the afternoon of Tuesday, August 14, as the people of Washington wait eagerly for the war’s end, the city of Tokyo blazes once more.

  * * *

  Emperor Hirohito does not see the flames. He is cowering in his dank underground bunker, still clad in full-dress military uniform. But outside his Imperial Palace, rebellious junior officers of the Imperial Japanese Army are revolting. Their aim is to prevent the surrender of Japan by overthrowing Hirohito. But it is already too late.

  Just three hours ago, Hirohito’s agreement to the American terms of surrender was transmitted to the neutral governments of Sweden and Switzerland. They were instructed to forward news of the acceptance to the leaders of the United States, Great Britain, China, and the Soviet Union. Then, in an act unparalleled in the history of Japan, the emperor met with technicians from NHK, Japan’s public radio network, who recorded him reading the letter of surrender. Two phonographic records of this speech are now hidden within his wife’s personal safe in the Imperial Palace.5

  The treasonous junior officers are led by Major Kenji Hatanaka and Lieutenant Colonel Jiro Shiizaki. They have controlled portions of the vast palace grounds since 4:00 p.m. yesterday. They have shot dead Lieutenant General Takeshi Mori, the commander of the palace guards, for his refusal to join the revolt.

  Utilizing Mori’s personal stamp, the two men created a false set of orders to fool seven Imperial Guard regiments, whose job it is to protect the emperor. The forged orders are designed to convince them to join the revolt. Soon, all communications between the Imperial Palace and the outside world are severed. Now Hatanaka and Shiizaki begin the process of searching the grounds for two precious targets: the emperor himself and the recordings of his surrender speech. The Imperial Palace and its gardens sprawl across a swath of central Tokyo a mile wide; there are countless places the emperor could be hiding. Hatanaka and Shiizaki are relentless. Though they haven’t found what they’re looking for, they have succeeded in disarming the palace police and have detained and interrogated eighteen staff members who, incredibly, do not tell the rebel officers where Hirohito is hiding.

  Suddenly, there is darkness. The American bombings have cut off all power in Tokyo, and Hirohito’s underground hideaway grows even more terrifying. He knows that leaving the utter blackness to venture out of the bunker could cost him his life. So he continues to cower.

  Hirohito is completely severed from the world. The Imperial Palace’s great stone walls, a haven for so long, have now become a prison. For the first time in his entire life, there is no one to pamper him, pander to him, or protect him. Like the Japanese soldiers who died in island caves across the Pacific, Hirohito can only hide and wait in his stone fortress, unsure if he will live to see the morning.

  At 3:00 a.m., forces loyal to the emperor storm the palace.
Officers Hatanaka and Shiizaki flee into the night, having never found Hirohito or the recordings. Within hours they will take their own lives rather than face the consequences of their actions.

  At 7:21 a.m., less than fifteen minutes after Harry Truman has received the message of Japanese surrender in Washington, DC, the NHK radio network broadcasts a special message: the emperor will speak directly to his people at noon.

  * * *

  Harry Truman has just refreshed himself with a short swim in the White House pool. The time is shortly before 7:00 p.m. on Tuesday, August 14. The Oval Office is thirty-six feet long and twenty-nine feet wide, and every square inch is taken up by a scrum of journalists, klieg lights, and newsreel cameras.

  Wearing a navy blue double-breasted suit and blue shirt, the president stands at his desk to alert the world: “I have received this afternoon, a message from the Japanese government,” Truman begins, holding a copy of his speech in his right hand, “a full acceptance of the Potsdam Declaration which specifies the unconditional surrender of Japan.”

  Outside the White House, almost a half million Americans begin a massive street party in Washington. “This capital city … relaxed its worn nerves and celebrated the winning of the war with a screaming, drinking, paper-tearing, free-kissing demonstration which combined all the features of New Year’s and Mardi Gras,” Yank magazine will report.

  Truman himself, accompanied by his wife, Bess, steps outside onto the White House lawn. “We want Truman,” the crowds lining the black wrought-iron fence chant. “We want Truman.”

  The president responds by holding up the two-fingered V-for-Victory sign.

  At long last, World War II is over.

  * * *

  In Japan, a time of national mourning has begun. At noon on August 15, as Washington celebrates, Emperor Hirohito’s radio address is broadcast to cities, hamlets, and villages throughout the country. Japanese soldiers abroad also hear the message via shortwave radio. The people have never before heard the emperor’s voice, so they react with a mixture of curiosity and shock. They are confused, because the poor recording quality and the emperor’s use of an archaic form of the Japanese language make him hard to understand. But eventually the message becomes clear.

  “To our good and loyal subjects,” the emperor starts in his high-pitched voice. “After pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in Our Empire today, we have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to an extraordinary measure.…

  “The war has lasted for nearly four years. Despite the best that has been done by everyone—the gallant fighting of the military and naval forces, the diligence and assiduity of our servants of the State, and the devoted service of our one hundred million people—the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan’s advantage, while the general trends of the world have all turned against her interest.”

  Hirohito does not use the word “surrender.” He merely states that his subjects must now “pave the way for a grand peace for all the generations to come by enduring the [unavoidable] and suffering what is unsufferable.” To many, that is actually an enormous relief; their fathers, husbands, and sons might finally return home from the fighting. But other Japanese citizens are shamed and angry. Hirohito wraps up his address with words the Japanese never thought they would hear.

  “Unite your total strength, to be devoted to construction for the future. Cultivate the ways of rectitude, foster nobility of spirit, and work with resolution—so that you may enhance the innate glory of the Imperial State and keep pace with the progress of the world.”

  * * *

  All across Japan, the truth sinks in: defeat. Many of the emperor’s subjects are so stunned at the sound of Hirohito’s voice admitting surrender that they collapse to the ground in shock. Several hundred military men disembowel themselves rather than accept Hirohito’s capitulation. A group of army and navy officers opt to make their suicides public, kneeling on the gravel in front of the Imperial Palace before placing pistols to their heads.

  In some cases, the Japanese response takes the form of rage, as more than a dozen captured American fliers are taken from their POW cells on the island of Kyushu and executed with swords. It is due to war crimes like these that almost as soon as Hirohito’s speech is concluded, military bureaucrats across Japan begin burning files and documents that could be used against them by American investigators.

  And so it is that Japan, the once-mighty occupying power, will itself now be occupied. Not even the god-man Hirohito can prevent that. Will the Americans seek vengeance? Will the conquerors destroy the Japanese way of life?

  No one is sure, nor does anyone know how the Japanese will respond to their subjugation.

  What is apparent is that a new emperor will soon arrive.

  All hail General Douglas MacArthur.

  27

  ATSUGI AIRFIELD

  KANTO PLAIN, HONSHU, JAPAN

  AUGUST 30, 1945

  1405 HOURS

  The supreme commander has arrived. General Douglas MacArthur’s personal C-54 aircraft lands on a bumpy, treacherous airstrip. American warplanes have been bombing this airfield for weeks, and the shell craters buckling the runway in many places are still being repaired.

  It is a hot and humid day as the general’s transport taxis toward a hangar now decorated with an American flag. MacArthur surveys the scene through his small airplane window. He sees rows of newly arrived American B-29 bombers parked off the runway; a military brass band standing in formation, ready to strike up a march; and a column of official Japanese vehicles waiting to whisk him and his staff to their headquarters at the New Grand Hotel in Yokohama. Also present is a mob of two hundred photographers and journalists, most of them Japanese, poised to rush the plane.

  In three short days the Japanese leadership will sign the articles of surrender in Tokyo Bay, aboard the battleship USS Missouri. Dignitaries from all around the world will crowd the decks to witness the event, MacArthur prominently among them.

  But history is also being made today in another way, and Douglas MacArthur is not sharing the moment with anyone.

  Never before has Japan been profaned by a foreign conqueror’s boot. As supreme commander of the Allied forces, MacArthur will not only lead the occupation forces that have already begun flooding into the country, he will also be the virtual dictator of Japan. He will control the media and Japanese politics. Unlike General George S. Patton, who is on the verge of being fired from a similar position in southern Germany, MacArthur will have unlimited power. Truman has firmly rebuked a Soviet request that one of their generals should serve as MacArthur’s equal.1

  MacArthur plans to implement drastic changes in the months to come: giving Japanese women the right to vote, influencing which generals are prosecuted for war crimes, and usurping Emperor Hirohito as the leader of the Japanese. Indeed, the general’s style of governance will lead many Japanese to compare him with the shoguns, military warlords who ruled Japan from 1192 to 1867.

  There is no guarantee MacArthur’s transition to power will be smooth. A good number of Imperial Japanese Army troops still possess their weapons. As evidenced by Pearl Harbor, the art of deception is very much a part of the Japanese military culture. US intelligence officials know there is a very real chance the welcoming party awaiting MacArthur on the tarmac could be part of a clever trap to murder him.

  Thus, the general’s staff is jumpy as they line up to step off the plane. Each man wears a stiffly pressed khaki uniform, but no sidearm. Earlier in the flight, when MacArthur spotted them strapping on gun belts, he ordered the officers to cease. “Take them off,” MacArthur commanded. “If they intend to kill us, sidearms will be useless. And nothing will impress them like a show of absolute fearlessness. If they don’t know they’re licked, this will convince them.”

  So, unarmed and unsure of the fate that awaits them, MacArthur’s most trusted officers prepare to follow him down the ramp
. Major General Courtney Whitney will describe the tense moment as a time when “the whole world was holding its breath.”2

  Until a week ago, this airfield was the home base of a Japanese Zero fighter squadron tasked with protecting Tokyo from American bombers. It was also a training field for kamikaze pilots. Right up until the very end of the war, thousands of civilians labored to build underground tunnels and hangars to repel the American invasion. Immediately after Emperor Hirohito’s surrender broadcast, many of the fighter pilots rebelled, dropping leaflets on Tokyo urging the Japanese people to fight on. It is rumored that some of these fliers will take to the skies today to perform kamikaze flights. “My God,” General Richard Sutherland has warned MacArthur, “the emperor is worshipped as a real god, yet they still tried to assassinate him. What kind of target does that make you?”

  But MacArthur is undaunted, rising from his seat in the front row as the plane comes to a halt. He places his field marshal cap on his head and lights his corncob pipe, then moves to the back door of the plane. He does not take threats lightly, but his visits to Japan earlier in life schooled him in the ways of the Orient. Showing fear, or even the smallest sign of panic, will make MacArthur appear weak in the eyes of the Japanese. He has christened this aircraft Bataan, in defiant memory of the thousands of American and British soldiers slaughtered by the Japanese after the Philippines fell in 1942.

  MacArthur knows that the small group of American soldiers who arrived here yesterday and now stand ready to defend him would be powerless against the thirty thousand armed Japanese troops who have been ordered by their commanders to line the fifteen-mile route into Yokohama. These soldiers are armed with rifles and bayonets, but in a show of respect normally reserved only for the emperor, they do not feel themselves worthy of gazing directly upon MacArthur. Thus, they stand at attention with their backs to the road.