Part of Chapter 1:
Only a few minutes after torpedoes from the USS Grenadier crashed into the Taiyo Maru, Toshio Tabata fell into the choppy waters in the East China Sea. He battled to stay afloat while he attempted to get away from the turbulent waters alongside one of Japan’s largest transport ships, now crippled and in flames. Of the sixteen lifeboats on board, only five of them made it safely into the water. Under the weight of his wet clothes and kapok lifejacket he could barely move his arms, yet he knew he must get as far away from the ship as possible.
As he got farther away he swallowed more and more water with each passing wave. When his breathing became difficult, it seemed as though his end was near. He watched helplessly as hundreds of men retreated to the stern of the ship while the bow sank below the surface and orange flames shot upward from the midsection.
Tabata gasped and asked aloud, “Why? Why did this have to happen?”
He exclaimed, “I cannot believe so many talented people will die so easily.” Above the sound of breaking waves he could hear voices from all around him shouting, “Help! Help!” Tabata asked, “Why haven’t our sister ships come to rescue us? Why is this happening?” While he struggled to attract one of the surviving lifeboats, the impending loss of the Taiyo Maru was a great tragedy for him.
For many years, Tabata had traveled on his beloved ship between Yokohama, Kobe, and Shanghai. He began his travels at an early age and soon began to appreciate Western amenities. Two of his uncles had connections with well-to-do families in the shipping business, including Marquis Tokugawa of the former ruling class. During a summer vacation from Keio University, Tabata traveled Shanghai to work at a publishing company reporting on Japanese economic development in Manchuria. Upon reading extensively about the area, he became intensely interested in the ongoing programs and accomplishments.
In 1934, he and three other seniors made a bold proposal to University officials. To help allay international criticism of Japanese presence in Manchuria, the four seniors believed visits by American students would convince them that Japan’s actions were beneficial. With university approval and government acquiescence, the four student pioneers became founders of what is now called the Japan- America Student Conference (JASC). Two prominent participants were the future U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and the future Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa.
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Eight years later, in May 1942, Tabata joined a select group of nearly a thousand well-trained administrators and engineers bound for newly occupied territories. These men represented many of Japan’s civilian elite from upper-class families. With a crew of five hundred men, his favorite ship sailed from Hiroshima painted entirely an ominous black.
Tabata’s roommate Mr. Kanai, a section chief of the Ministry of Greater East Asia, said, “I thought we were safe with so many other vessels and escort warships, but since we left Moji and sight of land, I feel uneasy.” The composition of the convoy was top secret and nothing was said about the destination, although Tabata had already accepted a senior post in the Philippines. He could have either accepted that post or be drafted into military service; it was an easy decision for him.
As the final moments of the Taiyo Maru loomed, bright flames illuminated the black sky and fire rapidly intensified when volatile supplies of carbide ignited. Hundreds of men stranded on the stern must have realized their end was near when they sang the national anthem over and over. With the last cry of banzai, the ship raised its stern high above the water and then disappeared as if being sucked down to the bottom of the ocean. It was just an hour previously that Tabata’s compatriots celebrated the fall of Corregidor with extra servings of sake.
Widely different views between the United States and Japan on the cause of the war were clearly evident in 1942. But ever since the atomic bombing there has been a steady historical drift in perspectives, especially among Japanese whose sense of victimhood has become entrenched and a lack of openness about the war has become the accepted norm. It is argued herein that victimhood and lack of openness prevent Japan from acceptance as a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council.