The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1936-1945

by John Toland

The position of the Emperor should depend solely on how he conducted himself. He could disassociate himself from the military, and if he then came out with a peace move, something could be worked out. This way the American public would be able to distinguish between the royal family and the war clique.

The bomb was on Tinian, the orders for its use were cut. Now all that remained was to dispatch the final warning to Japan, the Potsdam Proclamation.c On the day of Churchill’s defeat, President Truman ordered the Office of War Information in Washington to beam the message in the open to Japan. It threatened “the utter devastation of the Japanese homeland” unless Japan surrendered unconditionally, but made no mention of the atomic bomb; nor did it contain the controversial paragraph about retaining the Emperor. It limited Japanese sovereignty to the four main islands, but did promise that the Japanese would not be “enslaved as a race or destroyed as a nation” and would be allowed “to maintain such industries as will sustain her economy” and permitted access to raw materials. Moreover, the occupying forces would be withdrawn as soon as a new order was established and there was convincing proof that Japan’s war-making capabilities were destroyed.

Marquis Kido immediately informed the Emperor that Hiroshima had been laid waste by some secret weapon. “Under these circumstances we must bow to the inevitable,” said His Majesty. He could not hide his anguish. “No matter what happens to me, we must put an end to this war as soon as possible. This tragedy must not be repeated.” But both agreed that the psychological moment had not yet come for the Emperor to take personal action.

This time Suzuki did not argue or play with words; his reaction was simple and straightforward. “Let us end the war,” he said. But first he wanted to make certain that the Emperor would approve an immediate surrender, At the obunko he found his Majesty agreeable to acceptance of any terms that would lead to peace. With this assurance Suzuki called to order an emergency meeting of the Big Six. It was 11 A.M., one minute before “Fat Man” fell on Nagasaki. “Under the present circumstances,” Suzuki began, “I have concluded that our only alternative is to accept the Potsdam Proclamation and terminate the war. I would like to hear your opinions on this.” No one spoke.

As soon as Suzuki was seated the Emperor himself got to his feet. His voice, usually expressionless, was noticeably strained. “I have given serious thought to the situation prevailing at home and abroad and have concluded that continuing the war means destruction for the nation and a prolongation of bloodshed and cruelty in the world.” The others listened with heads bowed. “I cannot bear to see my innocent people suffer any longer. Ending the war is the only way to restore world peace and to relieve the nation from the terrible distress with which it is burdened.” He paused.

“It pains me,” the Emperor was saying, “to think of those who served me so faithfully, the soldiers and sailors who have been killed or wounded in far-off battles, the families who have lost all their worldly goods—and often their lives as well—in the air raids at home. It goes without saying that it is unbearable for me to see the brave and loyal fighting men of Japan disarmed. It is equally unbearable that others who have rendered me devoted service should now be punished as instigators of the war. Nevertheless, the time has come when we must bear the unbearable. When I recall the feelings of my Imperial Grandsire, the Emperor Meiji, at the time of the Triple Intervention [by Russia, Germany and France in 1895], I swallow my own tears and give my sanction to the proposal to accept the Allied proclamation on the basis outlined by the Foreign Minister.”

The two conflicting statements, issued almost simultaneously, baffled the editors and station managers and forced Togo to take precipitous action. Anami’s statement would undoubtedly lead the Allies to believe that Japan was resolved to continue hostilities. The formal notes informing the Allies of Japan’s willingness to surrender were being processed through sluggish diplomatic channels, and a few hours’ delay might mean a third atomic bomb. Why not send out the official note immediately as a news story? There was a good possibility some military censor, if he recognized the contents of the message, might hold it up. To circumvent this it was decided to transmit the Japanese proposal in English in Morse code. By the time the censors translated the message, it would, hopefully, be too late.

This concept of legality was a perversion of the teachings of Professor Kiyoshi Hiraizumi, who had incalculable influence over the officer corps. In 1926, at the age of thirty-one, he became an assistant professor at Tokyo Imperial University. His main interest was Japanese history, his main purpose to preserve the spirit of the leaders of the Meiji period. When Communism began sweeping the campus he countered by establishing his Green-Green School.‡ The essence of his teaching was that each nation has its own tradition, history and morality and other nations should respect the differences. He taught that Japanese society was based on complete loyalty and obedience to parents, nation and Emperor, and Green-Green evolved into an ultranationalist school with Shinto as its bone, Confucianism as its flesh and bushido as its blood.

With peace so imminent, Forrestal and Stimson once more tried to persuade President Truman to cease all air and naval action against Japan as a humane gesture. Truman would not hear of it. Pressure, he said, should be maintained so the Japanese wouldn’t be encouraged to request further concessions. He did promise to suspend further atomic missions unless Tokyo’s reply was unsatisfactory. Two more atomic bombs were ready on Tinian, and drops were tentatively scheduled for August 13 and 16. General Spaatz acknowledged that battered Tokyo was too poor a target for a conventional bombing, and he was still eager to drop an atomic bomb on the capital.

One crucial problem remained: How should the decision be presented to the nation? President of the Information Board Kainan Shimomura suggested that the Emperor broadcast an imperial rescript. It was distasteful, but words about capitulation would be believed only if they came from his mouth. The Cabinet unanimously agreed, with one proviso: it would be presumptuous to ask His Majesty to speak directly to his subjects over the airwaves. It should be a recording.

“The Emperor has decided to end the war,” he told the standing audience. “It is, therefore, proper that we abide by the imperial wish. His Majesty is confident that the kokutai will be maintained and he has expressed that conviction to the field marshals. Difficulties lie ahead for all of us, but you officers must face the fact that death does not absolve you from your duty. You must stay alive, even if it means eating grass and sleeping on thorns and rocks.”

“That’s why I must test this by acting now. If the coup d’état fails, it will prove that the Emperor’s decision was correct. If it succeeds, then it will prove that I was right. I must do something. I can’t just sit and wait.”

An order had already been issued to regimental commanders of the Konoye Division—it bore General Mori’s seal but it had been placed there by Hatanaka. The instructions, actually written by Major Koga, directed the troops to occupy the Palace grounds, thus “protecting” the Emperor and kokutai; one company was sent to the NHK Building to control what was broadcast. Contingents totaling more than a thousand men cordoned the Palace grounds. The majority, as in the 2/26 uprising, had no idea that they were acting as insurgents. In appearance all that seemed to be taking place was an emergency reinforcement of the permanent guard posts. Within minutes all of the great gates clanged shut and the Emperor was isolated from the outside.

In the meantime Russia was intent on establishing herself on the Asian mainland in force. The Red Army had already seized much of Manchuria against almost no opposition from the weakened Kwantung Army. Each occupied city was plundered. Tons of wheat, flour, rice, kaoliang (grain sorghum) and soybeans were shipped back to the Soviet Union along with machinery, rolling stock, paper, printing machines, photographic and electric equipment. Chairs, desks, telephones, typewriters were cleared from every office. Carloads of broken furniture and countless crates of broken glass were dispatched westward as if junk itself were a treasure to the Soviets.

“It’s very simple,” said MacArthur. “We’ll use the instrumentality of the Japanese government to implement the occupation.” Among other things, he was going to give Japanese women the right to vote. “The Japanese men won’t like it.” “I don’t care. I want to discredit the military. Women don’t want war.”

“A new era is upon us. Even the lesson of victory itself brings with it profound concern, both for our future security, and the survival of civilization.… Military alliances, balances of power, leagues of nations, all in turn failed, leaving the only path to be by way of the crucible of war.… “The utter destructiveness of war now blots out this alternative. We have had our last chance. If we do not devise some greater and more equitable system, Armageddon will be at our door.…”

To bring the Emperor to trial would provoke guerrilla warfare throughout the nation and perpetuate a military government. MacArthur was more than determined to treat the Emperor with respect—against the advice of his own staff, who wanted him summoned peremptorily to Allied headquarters as a show of power. “To do so,” the general said, “would be to outrage the feelings of the Japanese people and make a martyr of the Emperor in their eyes. No, I shall wait and in time the Emperor will voluntarily come to see me.

Ironically, one of Japan’s most cherished war aims was being achieved. Asia was at last freeing itself from the white man. Great Britain had already lost Burma and was being pried loose from India. In the Dutch East Indies, Achmed Sukarno and Mohammed Hatti, who had supported the Japanese during the conflict, were mounting an irresistible independence movement.