Kobayashi Posted June 25, 2021 Share Posted June 25, 2021 (edited) 1945 A barren island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean The Kamikaze. Years from now, when men would write histories of this great existential tumult, they would describe these pilots as nothing more than fanatical robots, determined and driven by nothing more than a mad jingoistic fervour stirred on by a God Emperor. The descendant of Amaterasu who would only need to speak, and the Japanese people would follow every syllable. Although, anyone who ever bore witness to the realities of these volunteers, would often report a different story. Assembled on desperately erected airfields throughout the withering Japanese Empire, were not men driven by fanaticism or a militaristic fervour, but the very flower of Japanese youth. From liberal academics, to Marxist intellectuals, to fervent Atheists and fundamental Christians. Assembled for these suicide missions were not men without reason, but men who had reasoned away their very lives. If going on these final voyages would increase the percentile of the success of this war, but by even a fraction, then the sacrifice of their lives would surely be worth it. Would it not? That would mean the protection of their homeland and loved ones. A common anxiety which is harboured by any man who has been forced into conflict, for the protection of people, homeland and family. Because, the 'Japanese are just like everybody else. Only more so.' These were the thoughts of Lieutenant Sato, as he eyed the cup of sake his flight sergeant had prepared earlier. The company leader glanced around the room at the dead men walking, all of them coping with the coming inevitability in their own dignified, or undignified manner. Some, turned to silent meditation and prayer, some drank and shifted nervously from militaristic chants and uncontrollable sobbing. Others, lashed out. Lashed out at the war that had driven them to such extremes, and the government that had condemned them. Chairs were thrown through windows, the hilt of swords bashed against tables. Sato, simply sat cross legged on the canteen floor, eyeing his sake, and thinking of home. Honour in death, victory from defeat. He repeated the mantra in his head, until the words meant nothing. Collecting himself, the Lieutenant excused himself from his men and made his way outside. It was a clear night, the blue aura of the moon lighting up the airfield ahead, the machines they were all to perish in having been already prepared for the mission ahead. They were to take off toward the rising sun, toward the Philippines, and toward eternity. He clutched the headband tight in his fist, moving along the fence that flanked the runway. His thoughts turned to home, and to the woman and family he has said goodbye to. That is why he made this sacrifice, that is why he had chosen this fate. For a love of family, and a love of friends. Honour in death, victory from defeat. Those words meant nothing to him now, all that mattered was the battle ahead. And the silent eternity to follow. Lieutenant Sato watched the moon fall into the sea, his final night on Earth spent alone, thinking of home, and the one's he loved. His shaky voice carrying a patriotic song to the wind. I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind. Edited June 25, 2021 by Kobayashi 1 Link to comment
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