by Hal Gold
I didn't know whether they had been infected by our bacteria or what. I wasn't even sure if they were prisoners. I had not yet heard that word maruta. When were drinking saké together with the officers we asked about those Chinese. We were told, "That's not for you to ask!"
The third time I brought a load of Chinese out to the plain, there were two or three trucks that were returning empty stopped by the side of the road. I pulled my truck over, and there was an old man sitting there on a mat rush holding a skylark. I started up the truck again and heard some gunshots. I stopped and looked back, and the old man was lying dead. Later, I asked a researcher about it. He told me, "Don't ever say a word about that. He was a spy."
There was an airfield near the unit headquarters. There were lots of planes, and when they took off in the morning it was noisy. Planes from other units used to land there often. I was once told that a plane that had just left had gone for a plague germ attack on the Chinese army. But a civilian researcher told us, "The bacteria that you fellows cultivated were spread in Nanjing, or somewhere in China." Once, someone said that the bacteria that we made had been cultivated well, and four or five Chinese had died. We cheered ourselves. "We're medal earners," we said. We were really proud.
There was a big smokestack in the unit. On some days it poured smoke, sometimes there was none. It was far from our barracks. Once, we asked what was burning. The answer was "prisoners."
The building with the stack was near the barracks for the education officers. One day when I walked by there, the wives of the officers were polishing brass objects that looked like trophies. Someone told me, "Those are bombs."
Afterward, I asked a civilian researcher about them. He told me, "The bacteria that you fellows made were loaded into those and dropped for dispersal. Maybe in Chongqing, or Shanghai." That was around June 1941.
I watched the wives polishing the bombs in the corridor of the building. Then I noticed, farther inside at a wide space in the corridor, there was a human specimen in a jar. The jar was the size of a person, and what looked like a young Russian soldier was preserved inside in liquid. His body was cut in half, lengthwise. I realized later that it was a White Russian.
There were other specimen jars there, also, but they were all covered over with cloths, and I couldn't see what was inside. I figured that perhaps the Russian specimen should have been covered, too, and someone had removed the cover.
Just then, an officer saw me, screamed, "That's forbidden!" and I ran out. That evening, the officer in charge of our barracks said to us, "The person who saw the preserved Russian specimen, raise your hand." Nobody raised a hand. He got angry and ordered us to slap each other's faces. "All right," he said. "That was self-punishment. Now tell me truthfully, who saw the Russian specimen?" I thought it was all right now, so I raised my hand. Then the officer hit me on the head with a kendo fencing stave.
The Special Forces men had taken a lot of photos. They were big: bodies with no heads, with no feet, with swollen bellies. That was from water torture. They force water into the body to swell up the belly. My buddy Mikami told me, "I saw the whole thing. It was really hideous." I told him, "That's war." I killed people for the country—for the emperor. That was my belief then.
In August 1941, we got on a train to be transferred, but I didn't know where we were headed. When we got to Harbin, the officer in charge told us we were going to Hailar. After four or five days on the train, we arrived near the Russian border. A truck met us at the station. There were members of all different teams and units among us. We were ordered, "Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Unit members, take one step forward." They split our group up, and I was in the group sent to Unit 543. That was a branch unit of Unit 731 in Hailar. I was stationed there for three years, until 1944. Our barracks was right in front of the station, an old Russian barracks, and I remember hearing the trains coming and going during the night.
We conducted field tests of water quality. We were supposed to work through October, until the cold weather sets in, but actually we worked in the winter also. We loaded tents, charcoal, vessels, and other equipment into two trucks and took off with a team of about fifteen people. There were army doctors, hygiene specialists, and noncommissioned officers.
We drove up near the Nomonhan region. We drew water samples into test tubes and labeled them with the place, date, and time of sampling, and a code. When we found rivers frozen, we had to break through the ice to get samples. We drove around taking samples like that for about one or two weeks at a time. Sometimes we stayed over at another unit and could get a hot bath.
At one place, an army doctor pulled out a test tube with a kind of bacteria that looked something like mold, added water, shook it, and threw it into a sample of water we had taken from a well. I saw that happen two or three times. Later, we tested the water and took photos. Water sampling is a simple way to describe our work, but actually we were field tacticians.
There was a Mongolian settlement we came to. They were all happy to see us, and the little girls picked flowers for presents. We exchanged things with them for dried fish and meat. We conducted field strategy there two or three times, then everyone in the settlement suffered from diarrhea and came down with sickness. The last time we went there, they didn't bring flowers and they didn't want anything of ours. Our interpreter told us that they said we had thrown something into the well and made everyone sick. Our officer in command joked about it and told the Mongolians, "You're the ones who threw it into the well."
I had some creosote and gave it to the Mongolians. They were glad to get it. The officer saw that and told me not to give them any medicine, but he didn't press the issue any further. He just said, "Better stay away from them," and later he told us never to go back there again.
One of our members drank that well water by mistake. He had been near the Mongolian settlement, he was thirsty, and his canteen was empty. The army doctor had told us not to drink any water except what was in our canteens. The soldier said that the well water was all right, why not drink it? The answer was, "Never mind. Just don't drink it."
But he did drink it, and when the officer heard that he screamed, "You're going to die!" The soldier said, "But I don't feel sick."
I found out later about our team throwing bacteria into the well. I don't know what happened to that soldier after that.
Around 1942, I came to realize that what we were doing was not field tactics, but biological warfare. But not everything that we did was bad. The Hailar unit treated illness in some villages, giving injections.
In the autumn of 1943, Warrant Officer Murakami committed suicide. He had come to Manchuria with his young wife. He had thrown bacteria into the water supply near a Special Forces detachment, and several people drank that water and died. Strong words came from the Special Forces officers. Why did he throw that into the water? The main work of the unit was supposed to be water sampling. Maybe when people came up and accused us of making them sick, it was too much for him.
A few days after that, the fellow who always worked with Murakami, Sergeant Maruyama, committed suicide. Maybe he was under pressure from the officers.
He had killed himself in an army comfort woman brothel. And it was an officers' brothel. This was a big problem for the army, and I was ordered to go get the body before news leaked out.
At the time, there were three classes of brothels. Class I was for officers, Class 2 was for noncoms, and Class 3 was for civilian employees and enlisted men. But even those who were not officers had a chance to go to the Class I brothels. Units were given certain days on which their men could use the officers' brothel. On days when we had no duty and would be going to the brothel, we would muster in the morning at 8:30. They would inspect our condoms, and anyone with a condom with a hole in it would not be allowed off base. Enlisted men were allowed off base from 8:30 until supper time. We used to line up at the brothel and wait our turn. We would each be finished in ten to fifteen minutes. Non-coms could stay out until 10 p
.m., and officers until the following morning.
The brothels were under civilian management, but some were for the exclusive use of army personnel. There were almost no Chinese women in them; almost all were Koreans. The medical unit of the Twenty-third division used to go in there to perform VD checks, and they issued health certificates.
There were also brothels for civilian employees of Japanese corporations like Shimizu and Kajima construction companies, but venereal disease was more rampant among civilians.
I went to the brothel to get the body. Maruyama had taken potassium cyanide, and a Korean comfort woman was crying in the room. The Japanese manager of the brothel was angry at the commotion caused by the man's suicide. I calmed him down with a few small presents, then I wrapped the body in a blanket and brought it back to the unit. One of the sergeants cremated the body and sent the ashes to Maruyama's home town.
We were ordered out. On the way to the station an officer told us, "You fellows will be headed southward. So I now cut all connection with the Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Unit. You have no reason to feel guilty about anything, so go fight proudly."
We were a disease prevention unit, so we were issued only small arms. On the way, I had a barber take clippings of my hair and nails and send them to my home.
We crossed Korea to Pusan and boarded a ship. En route, we were hit by a torpedo from an American submarine. About two thousand men were killed. We survivors were transferred to another ship, and we headed for Shanghai. Again, we got hit by an American torpedo. I escaped death again. About eighty percent of those on board went down. The ship rolled over, and I could hear the men trapped inside calling out, "Tenno heika banzai!" ["Eternal life to His Imperial Majesty"] Others cried, "Mother!"
Finally, we docked in Taiwan and took on medical supplies. We were supposed to head for Mindanao but ended up landing in the Philippines in December 1944. We were sent to a field hospital bringing medical supplies to a station in the mountains. In early January, we were shelled by a warship.
From there, we had combat against the Americans. That was rough. Nothing in Unit 731 was even a fraction that bad. The war ended, and we knew nothing about it. In January 1946, a plane flew over and dropped leaflets to inform us that the war was over. They carried pictures of General MacArthur and General Yamashita shaking hands. One day, my buddies and I had laid our guns under a tree and were eating apricots when a Japanese and an American officer came and said, "Let's go back to Japan together." I was ready to keep fighting, but I gave in and was taken prisoner. Later we were taken back to Japan, and I landed at Nagoya.
One reason I came to this Unit 731 Exhibition was to see if I might contact other former members. I spoke with one man who had lost his sight in an American bombing attack. He died recently and until the end he did not want to meet with other former members.
Another man that I located and contacted by phone laughed, "That was fifty years ago." That's about all he would say.
I was never ordered not to speak about the unit, or not to contact other members. So, wherever I go, I speak about it, and search for others who were there. Ishii wouldn't believe it. But he did give that order and if he had lived to see it, he wouldn't have allowed it.
When I first entered Unit 731, I had no idea that it was that kind of unit. I thought it was to help the people of China by providing clean water. The Japanese enjoy drinking good water, so I naturally thought that water supply would be our job. When I came to the Unit 731 Exhibition the first time, I was shocked. I had heard rumors, but I never even knew the word "maruta." I had heard rumors about the dissections, and I wondered if those things really happened. I thought that if they had really happened, they were wretched acts. But, personally, I feel no shame. I thought that I was really doing a good thing.
Kenpeitai member (Iwasaki Ken'ichi)
[The water torture was used for the fifteen years that Japan spread its "coprosperity" through China. Former kenpeitai member Iwasaki has appeared many times before audiences to tell of the role his organization played in supporting the occupation and supplying victims for human experiments. The water torture was used mainly to force confessions from those who resisted the Japanese invasion and occupation, and a replica of the water torture system was built for the travelling exhibit.]
There were special tables such as the one at the exhibition built for this purpose, but sometimes an ordinary bench or a ladder was used. I first saw this device when I was assigned to the Harbin branch. I thought it was a very handy system and was delighted with it. I used it for six years, until the end of the war. Yet many officials who participated in the invasion never saw one, and even some kenpeitai officers are seeing it for the first time at these exhibits.
The victim is placed naked on the board face up. The head is held immobile inside a wooden box frame fixed at the end of the board. The arms and legs are strapped down. The victim is not able to move no matter how great the suffering. If a hose is used to force water into the mouth, as had been the case previously, the victim can evade some of the water. A different system was devised, an easier one whose results are more complete.
First, water is poured on the chest to prevent a heart attack. A cloth is placed over the mouth and nose, and water is trickled over it slowly. The cloth becomes saturated, and no matter how much the victim tries to fight, water enters the body and in five or six minutes the belly swells. This is continued until the desired confession is obtained. The reason for devising this system was that it was easy to use and did not leave any visible scars as evidence of torture.
Concerning the human experiments, I had some idea that they were going on but it was secret and we were not informed. Sometimes people would not confess under any amount of torture. Their bodies would be broken down but they would not give in. If we released them, they would accuse us of torturing them, so we sent them to the Ishii unit.
Condemned prisoners from all over were brought to us at Harbin. Instead of being executed, they were used for freezing experiments in Harbin's subzero winters. I knew that these tests were necessary if we were going to have to fight Russia.
There were occasional parties to commemorate someone's work. A committee would decide on carrying out executions while everyone was drinking saké. There was one officer who was especially fond of executions. He would have about five persons sit in front of a ditch, then behead them and kick the bodies into the ditch. These particular executions apparently had no scientific aims.
I thought it was good that the place was blown up after the war and the secrets did not get into the hands of the Russians. Everyone else thought so, too.
Three Youth Corps members (Anonymous)
[These men held a panel discussion at the Iwate exhibition site. All three still retain anonymity, and are listed here simply as Y-san, T-san and K-san.
Y-san and T-san were in a group that was sent to Manchuria as Japan was on the verge of collapse. The war ended without their knowing the real function of Unit 731. When the outfit was getting ready to pull out from its base, T-san was given the job of disposing of the maruta.
Some time after the war, K-san formed a group with other former Unit 731 members. Some former unit members are planning a trip to China to apologize to surviving family members. K-san remarks on this by quoting a Buddhist teaching: "'The Buddha is never far away; he is always near.' It isn't necessary to go to China; visiting Tama Cemetery is all right."]
K-SAN: We were the Youth Corps; that is, we were transferred into a special environment. So when talk started in the postwar years about forming our association, there were voices against it. In 1953, we held a large Buddhist memorial service with some former Unit 731 members, including those who were active in the headquarters under Ishii and Kitano. We later formed a Memorial Service Association and have kept the group going ever since. We published a newsletter, and it has now reached more than one hundred issues.
In 1955, our association erected a cenotaph in the Tama Cemetery in Tok
yo and held a memorial service to console the spirits of the sacrificed maruta. Since then, we have held a service every year on the first Sunday following August 15, and this has gradually brought the existence of Unit 731 out before the public. But this is only a once-a-year event.
Then, in 1993, we held a large meeting of members from all over Japan. We plan to hold more, sending out the word for any former Unit 731 people to come together and join us.
T-SAN: When I was in elementary school, a former student of our school about six years senior to us came flying over in a trainer and dropped a message in the schoolyard. It read, "Underclassmen! Come and follow us!" That got us enthusiastic about joining the Youth Corps of the armed services. Then we were told that if we came to Unit 731 we would get to ride in planes. I was excited by airplanes, so I applied. Our school had a three-month-long "Manchuria and Mongolia Development Volunteer Corps" educational program, and after finishing that we were sent over to China. We were fifteen and sixteen years old, the youngest in our town to go overseas.
We rode a night train for Niigata, our port of embarkation. When we reached the harbor, there were reports of American submarine activity in the Japan Sea and our ship was kept in port for one week. It would have been all right if we had left right away, but the waiting got to us. The boys lost interest in going and a lot of them became cranky and cried. The education officer hit the criers with the scabbard of his sword and screamed, "Don't cry!"
Y-SAN: I applied for the air corps also. We were mustered at Morioka University.
T-SAN: But the name of the unit was not 731—it was 731-T. That's because it was a secret unit. That got us angry when we found out.
Y-SAN: When I got to Unit 731, I thought it strange that on Mondays and Fridays smoke always poured from the big chimney. One day, I was out on the farm where the unit grew vegetables to maintain self-sufficiency in food. The officer in charge of raising crops was there.