Scenes taken in snowy Sapporo – during a prelude to a storm that would bring the city and the Hokkaido prefecture its heaviest December snowfall in half a century.
Scenes taken in snowy Sapporo – during a prelude to a storm that would bring the city and the Hokkaido prefecture its heaviest December snowfall in half a century.
It was on 2 September 1945, 70 years ago today, that Japan formally surrendered on board the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, bringing an end to the most devastating of armed conflicts the world had seen. It was a war that “impregnable fortress” that was Singapore found itself drawn into, having been bombed and subsequently occupied by Japan over a three and a half year period that counts as the darkest in modern Singapore’s history.
The formal end of the war and occupation came to Singapore a little after the surrender in Tokyo Bay, an end that was commemorated in a simple yet meaningful ceremony held in City Hall Chamber (now within the National Gallery Singapore) last Thursday, 27 August. Held in the very hall in which the war in Southeast Asia was formally brought to an end on 12 September 1945, the two hundred or so guests were reminded not only of the surrender, but also of the otherwise unimaginable pain and suffering of those uncertain days. Speaking during the ceremony MAJ (Retired) Ishwar Lall Singh, of the SAF Veterens League, revisited the trauma of war; his experienced echoed by the distinguished poet Professor Edwin Thumboo through a recital of verses recalling the days of Syonan-to.
The short ceremony was brought to a close by the sounds of a lone bugler filling the hall with the poignant strains of the Last Call and and then the Rouse on either side of the customary minute-of-silence, just as the call of the bugle on the Padang might have been sounded at the close of the events of 12 September, 70 years ago. Then, the surrender of forces under the command of Field Marshal Count Hisaichi Terauchi, whose grave can be found at the Japanese Cemetery in Singapore, had just been sealed in the Municipal Chamber, an event that was witnessed by scores of jubilant residents freed from the yoke of war.
The war had in all reality come to an abrupt end four weeks prior to the former surrender in Singapore, through the announcement by Emperor Hirohito broadcast to the people of Japan at noon on 15 August of Japan’s acceptance of the terms of the Potsdam Declaration. That had called for the unconditional surrender of all Japanese forces, a surrender that was to be formalised on the USS Missouri. The impact of the announcement was however only to reach the shores of Singapore on the morning of 5 September, some three weeks later, when troops from the British-led 5th Indian Division made landfall to begin the reoccupation of Singapore.
It may be thought of as fortunate that the end of three and a half years of darkness came with little of the violence that had accompanied its beginning. It could have been very different. The 5th Indian Division were poised to launch an invasion of Singapore (and Malaya), which would have taken place on 9 September 1945, if not for the surrender.
Even with the surrender, there were many in the ranks of the occupying forces who were prepared to carry the fight on to the death. One was General Seishiro Itagaki, the most senior officer after Field Marshal Terauchi. It was Itagaki who would later sign the Instrument of Surrender on the bedridden Terauchi’s behalf, having accepted the Supreme Commander’s orders with some reluctance. This however did not stop some violent deaths from taking place. Some 300 Japanese officers chose death over surrender and took their own lives after a sake party at Raffles Hotel on 22 August. A platoon of troops had reportedly chosen the same end, blowing themselves up with hand grenades.
By and large, the first British-led troops to land late in the morning on 5 September, encountered none of the resistance some had feared. The terms of the reoccupation were in fact already laid out during an agreement on initial surrender terms that was signed on board the HMS Sussex the previous day. The first flight, which included a contingent of pressmen armed with typewriters alongside fully armed troops, made the two-hour journey on the landing craft from the troop ship HM Trooper Dilwara, anchored twenty miles away out of gun range, bound for Empire Dock “a few minutes after nine o’clock”. An account of this and what they encountered is described in a 5 September 1946 Singapore Free Press article written for the first anniversary of the reoccupation. The same account tells us how the flight had come ashore to “docks that were almost deserted, except for one or two small crowds of Asiatics, who cheered from the water’s edge”.
The streets of Singapore had apparently been well policed in the interim by the Japanese. In maintaining sentry at major intersections, the Japanese troops also kept the streets clear to receive the anticipated reoccupation forces and it seems that it was only after word spread of the returning British-led forces that the large cheering crowds seen in many photographs circulated of the reoccupation, began to spill onto the streets.
For most part, the horrors of war, and the liberation that came, are now quite forgotten. While the dates were remembered as Liberation Day and Victory Day in the first years of the return to British rule, 5 September and 12 September have all but faded into insignificance in a nation now obsessed with celebrating it most recent successes. While the initial years that followed may not immediately have fulfilled the promise that liberation seemed to suggest, we are here today only because of what did happen, and because of the men and women who lost their lives giving us our liberation.
The dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima on 6 August 1945, seven decades ago, is very much in the news today. The bomb, the first of the only two nuclear devices ever used in war, brought death, devastation and immense suffering to the estimated 350,000 inhabitants of densely populated coastal city. In an instant, some 60,000 to 80,000 met their deaths; the toll was to rise significantly in the months to follow and by the year’s end, the numbers increased to 140,000. Many who survived, lived with the after effects of radiation, and as of August of last year, a total of 292,325 deaths from its population has been attributed to the bomb.
One who has lived to tell of the horror of the bomb, Mr Miyake Nobuo, now 86, was in Singapore in April of this year as part of the Peace Boat Hibakusha Project. Lending his voice to the chorus of voices of the hibakusha or atomic bomb survivors in support of the Peace Boat’s campaign for a nuclear free world, Mr Miyake described the moment the bomb fell. He was 16 and riding in a streetcar just 1.8 kilometres from the hypocentre. Describing the flash of the blast as “like many camera flashes going off”, his instinctive reaction to jump off the streetcar proved to be the right one as all who remained on the streetcar perished.
Since 2008, the project has seen a total of 150 hibakusha sail on the Peace Boat on the Global Voyages for a Nuclear Free World. The testimonies of the survivors, the project hopes, will help in raising awareness to audiences worldwide of the horrors of nuclear weapons. As the time approaches when we will no longer hear the first-hand accounts of the survivors – the average age of the hibakusha is now over 80 and with this year’s voyage potentially the last, the testimonies and preserving them become all the more important. An organisation that is continuing with the effort to get the words of the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki out is the Mayors for Peace, who have initiated the “I was her age” project. The project, delivers the accounts of the then child-survivors to parents of children now in the same age group, to bring home the threat to the world of the future that such weapons pose.
More on the hibakusha from a previous Peace Boat visit can be found in this post, The Peace Boat docks at the POD. A video produced by the “I was her age” project can also be found below.
I first caught sight of the Mimizuka (耳塚) in the fading light of dusk. What can best be described as a mound of earth topped with a gorinto – a five-tiered pagoda often used as gravestones; the Mimizuka looked mysterious and curiously out of place against the backdrop of the line of low lying roofs silhouetted against the twilight sky. Surrounded by what largely is a quiet residential neighbourhood in the Higashiyama district of of Kyoto, the mound, I was to discover, stands as a relic of a brutal past.
Translated from Japanese as “Mound of Ears”, it is where the remains of tens of thousands of humans are buried. Originally named as the “Mound of Noses” or Hanazuka (鼻塚), the remains it contains are in fact noses – those that were severed from at least 38,000 Koreans killed during the Japanese military expeditions into the peninsula initiated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi at the end of the 1500s. Preserved in brine and shipped to Japan as trophies, the noses were buried at the location in 1597 during the time of the second invasion of Korea.
It is in an area that is very much associated with Toyotomi Hideyoshi that one finds the rather macabre monument, just down the very generously proportioned Shomen-dori (正面通) that runs west from the Toyokuni Jinja (豊国神社), a shrine dedicated to the cruel but much revered daimyo.
The area is also where the grand Hoko-ji (方広寺) temple housing the great Buddha of Kyoto was put up by Toyotomi Hideyoshi – intended to rival the Daibutsu, or giant Buddha, of Nara, in scale. Much of the temple, construction of which began in 1586, and its Buddha was destroyed in an earthquake in 1596 and only its bell has survived to this day.
More information can on the little known Mimizuka can be found in a New York Times article written for the 400th anniversary of the mound, Japan, Korea and 1597: A Year That Lives in Infamy as well as in a Wikipedia entry. More on the Hoko-ji, the Toyokuni Jinja and the area can also be found at this site.
It was two Sundays ago at the National Library’s the POD that the opportunity arose to hear the accounts of the Hibakusha. Survivors of the atomic bombs dropped on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki close to seven decades ago, the group of seven, together with other participants of the Peace Boat Hibakusha Project, were in Singapore to share their remarkable accounts of survival in the face of the effects of what has to be one of the most horrifying weapons mankind has employed in an armed conflict. The project, has participants making a global voyage on a passenger ship, and is aimed at promoting peace and sustainability and ultimately, a nuclear-free world.
It is much more than time and distance that separate us from the horrors of a war in which Singapore had been very much a part of. We in the Singapore of today, have had the good fortune of being separated from some of the conflicts of more recent times and it would be very difficult for us to imagine what it was like living through the war, let alone attempt to comprehend what the survivors of the atomic bombs must have lived through.
The first of the Hibakusha we did hear from was Mr. Lee Jongkeun, not a Japanese, but a second-generation Korean resident in Japan. Aged 15 when the bomb fell on Hiroshima, Mr. Lee spoke, among other things, of the discrimination he faced, even to this day, as a resident of Korean origin. The presence of Mr. Lee, also highlighted the fact the the victims of the a-bomb weren’t just Japanese, but also many other nationalities. The victims included some 70,000 who were forcibly brought from the then Japanese colony of Korea to work in Japan, as well as Chinese who were there in similar circumstances and also the many prisoners of war being held in the areas at the time.
Following the testimony of Mr. Lee, there was a short performance by Ms. Ayumi Hamada – an actress and a youth participant in the Peace Boat project, who recited a poem, before another Hibakusha, Ms Michiko Hattori, spoke. A 16 year-old nurse with the Military Medicine Department in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing, Ms Hattori, she was only 3.5 km away from the hypocenter, and related some of the horrifying scenes she encountered after she recovered consciousness and attended to the other casualties in the aftermath of the bombing.
There was an opportunity to also hear from the other Hibakusha – all with a common tale not just of what was encountered in the immediate aftermath, but also of the discrimination they faced long after, along with the after effects of exposure to radiation that left many with long term illnesses and the fear many felt of what were uncertain futures. Many had difficulty finding marriage partners as a result.
Ms. Nobuko Sugino, who was a year old when the bomb was dropped, and at her home 1.3 km away from the hypocentre, was too young to remember the aftermath. She spoke of the fears she had growing up due to the exposure she had to radiation. We were reminded of the story of Sadako Sasaki and the 1000 origami paper cranes. Sadako was 2 at the time of the bombing, and at her home at a distance of some 1.6 km from the hypocentre. She had been in good health for some 9 years before she became ill and was diagnosed with leukaemia before dying at the age of 12. Sadako had attempted to fold 1000 paper cranes in the hope that it would allow her wish to be granted by the gods, falling short of her target before the disease claimed her life. The story of Sadako had many like Ms. Sugino fearing that they might suffer a similar fate.
Another survivor that did recount what it was like in the immediate aftermath was Mr. Takanari Sakata. He was 15 and working at the Mitsubishi Heavy Industries shipyard in Hiroshima as a part of the mobilisation of students. He has very vivid memories of the scenes that he was to witness after regaining consciousness. He spoke of the scene that greeted him as he had walked across a bridge near the only building that had been left standing in the hypocentre – what is today the iconic A-Bomb Dome that serves as a memorial. From the bridge, one side of which had collapsed inwards and the other outwards, he could see many blackened bodies of victims in the river and many who had survived asking for water, which he was advised not to give as it would have killed them.
It is in hearing from the Hibakusha, who have shown great courage and determination in attempting to reach out to the world in the hope that their testimonies will help with the realisation that the experience they had been in, should never again be repeated and it is only with a nuclear-free world that the risk of it happening again will diminish.
On the Peace Boat, now in its seventh global voyage for a nuclear-free world, with the Hibakusha, are several youths who hope to raise awareness of the need for a nuclear-free world to fellow youths worldwide through their participation. Besides their involvement in workshops, they hope to interact with the young from different countries. The Peace Boat, having left Singapore, continues on what will be a 104 day voyage around the world that will see it calling at 20 ports in 18 countries, before returning to Yokohama on 24 June 2014. More information on the project and the Hibakusha can be found at the Peace Boat’s website, www.peaceboat.org.
One of the amazing sights in Nara (known as Heijo-kyo or the citadel of peace), a UNESCO World Heritage Site which served as the capital of Japan from 710 to 784, must be the Great Buddha (Daibutsu) and the Great Buddha Hall (大仏殿) or Daibutsuden that houses it. The hall, measuring some 57 metres long, 50 metres wide and 48 metres high, is reputedly the world’s largest wooden building. The giant Buddha statue, measuring some 15 metres tall in the seated position, the hall houses is also said to be the world’s largest bronze Buddha image – which weighing some 500 tonnes, is thought that it consumed a substantial part of the country’s bronze production over the years it took to build it, leaving the country almost bankrupt.
The hall and the Buddha – an image of Vairocana, revered by the Kegon sect of Buddhism, serves as the main focal point of the Todaiji Temple complex, which dates back to 752. The wooden structure of the current hall, dates back to a fire induced rebuilding effort in 1688 to 1709, which saw it built to a scale of two-thirds of the 87 metre wide orginal hall (which had already been rebuilt twice previously). The current hall features a seven-bay wooden structure which encloses the 15 metre giant bronze 500 tonne statue, as well as two large images of bosatsu or bodhisattva flanking it – an addition made during the last rebuilding. The giant statue has itself been reconstructed several times – its head has been recast following fires and earthquakes. Its current head dates back to 1692.
The design of the hall, the scale of which will have any visitor in awe, features a wooden beam and bracketing structure which is thought to have been done by craftsmen from China. It is also possible to pass around the Great Buddha, in turn thought to be the work of craftsmen from Korea. To the rear of the hall, a wooden model provides a glimpse of the original Daibutsuden. There are also two statues of heavenly guardians from the Edo Period, Koumokuten and Tamoten. Another interesting find is a pillar with a hole at the bottom of it – popular belief has it that anyone who can squeeze through the hole will attain Enlightenment or Nirvana.
The hall, during my visit, did see a steady flow of visitors, both young and old, most stopping to ritually purify themselves with fresh water outside the hall. By the entrance to the hall on the outside, is a rather interesting wooden statue – that of Pindola Bharadvaja or Binzuru, a disciple of Buddha. In Japan, it is a belief that anyone ill rubbing the part of an image of Binzuru corresponding to the part of the body where the ailment is, followed by rubbing the same part on their own body after, will be cured of the ailment.
More information on the Todaiji and the Daibutsuden, as well as on the UNESCO World Heritage listing can be found at the following sites:
A photograph of a group of elderly pilgrims on the final part of their ascent up a long and steep staircase to the Nigatsu-dō (二月堂) sub-complex on the slopes of Wakakusa-yama (若草山). The Nigatsu-dō is part of the Tōdai-ji (東大寺) temple complex, a UNESCO World Heritage site located in Nara – the imperial capital of Japan during the Nara Period. The Nigatsu-dō, which translates into “The Hall of the Second Month” dates back to 752, although most of what we see today was rebuilt from 1667 to 1669 after a fire destroyed the temple. For the less religious, the climb up to the Nigatsu-dō is well worth the effort – from a terrace of the main temple, one gets a breathtaking view of the Yamato Inland Plain.