A life upended by Japan's wartime policy of mass suicide

Japan Times

15 hours ago

When Hiroyoshi Takizawa was 8 years old, he moved to Manchuria — present-day northeastern China — as part of a pioneer group, but was forced to flee for about three weeks after the Soviet Union invaded.
Along the way, he endured the harrowing ordeal of watching his father fatally shoot his younger brother and sister as part of a group suicide. "We were victims of national policy. Such a tragedy must never be repeated," says Takizawa, now a 91-year-old resident of the city of Nagano.
In March 1943, spurred by his father's ambition to "make it big in Manchuria," Takizawa's family left their home in what is now the village of Kijimadaira in Nagano Prefecture and relocated to eastern Manchuria. They joined the Koshago pioneer group, formed largely in their home region, and the seven-member household — Takizawa, his parents, two elder brothers, a younger sister and a younger brother — settled there. After their arrival, a baby sister was born.
For a time, life was comfortable. But that changed on Aug. 9, 1945, when the Soviet Union invaded Manchuria, in violation of its neutrality pact with Japan. The Imperial Japanese Army's Kwantung forces, which were expected to defend the area, had apparently already withdrawn, leaving civilians including the Takizawas to flee without a clear destination.
In the face of repeated attacks, the Koshago pioneer group continued southward. On Aug. 24, 1945, nine days after Emperor Hirohito's radio broadcast announcing Japan's surrender, the group, fearing a Soviet assault, chose mass suicide.
The incident claimed the lives of more than 500 of the roughly 700 members. Takizawa's father shot and killed his youngest son and youngest daughter. Group members also resolved to kill Takizawa and his remaining siblings, but their mother intervened and saved them. In the aftermath, he found himself emotionless and unable to mourn his lost siblings or to resent his father.
After a harrowing flight, Takizawa was confined to an internment camp. With the meals inadequate, he slipped out to a nearby market to steal apples to survive. He knew it was wrong, and the memory still haunts him.
He left Huludao, Manchuria, and returned to Japan in October 1946. For a time, he drifted from one relative's home to another, greeted mostly with cold stares from those around him.
In junior high, he could not afford a uniform and attended classes in his regular clothes. He had no money for boots even in winter, and on snowy days he walked to school in wooden geta clogs. He recalls leaving home early each morning out of embarrassment.
"If we had known of Japan's defeat sooner, there would have been no need to commit mass suicide," Takizawa emphasizes. In the war's aftermath, he was consumed by anger but had nowhere to direct it. Only in recent years has he found the emotional space to feel sorrow and bitterness over what he endured — and to allow himself to weep.
"The settlers who moved to Manchuria believing they were serving their country, many of whom perished, were victims of state policy," he says. "I want people to know that." Guided by this conviction, he continues to bear witness to the tragedy.