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Irish Independent

‘Kamikaze: An Untold History' review: War documentary tries to make sense of Japan's suicide missions

Director spent 15 years tracking down and talking to peers of the pilots and members of their families to deliver this monumental achievement in filmmaking Amid the innumerable books and documentaries about World War II, few examine the question of why there was widespread public support in Japan for the kamikaze missions that sent 4,000 pilots, all in their teens or early 20s, to their deaths in the final 10 months of the war. The feature-length documentary Kamikaze: An Untold History (BBC iPlayer), produced by Japan's public service broadcaster NHK, is an attempt to make sense of what seems senseless. It's crystal clear on why the missions themselves went on so long after the country's military leaders knew the war was already a lost cause. The sacrifice of the lives of these young men, many of whom hadn't even completed their training, was a cynical attempt to prolong the war in order to negotiate more favourable terms with the Allies. Historical records show that a mere 10pc of the kamikaze missions succeeded in their objective In the event, what followed was the dropping of two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, followed within days by the Japanese surrender. Historical records show that a mere 10pc of the kamikaze missions succeeded in their objective. All the sacrifices, all the deaths, including those of 7,000 Allied personnel killed in the attacks, were ultimately for nothing. The documentary's director, Oshima Takayuki, spent 15 years tracking down and talking to peers of the pilots and members of their families. The result is a monumental achievement. The documentary explodes the myth, easily digestible during the war to those in the West being drip-fed racial stereotypes, that the kamikaze pilots were, like the suicide bombers of today, crazed fanatics who were happy to give their lives for the cause. Maybe a handful of them were. Most, however, were just young, terrified men who, fearful of being shamed and branded traitors, felt they had no choice but to volunteer. They were given a form on which they had to state their willingness to go on a kamikaze mission. The choices were: 'strongly desire', 'desire' or 'negative'. 'In that environment, it must have been difficult to write 'negative',' says a historian. The only way for a pilot to ensure they didn't end up on a kamikaze mission was to achieve the highest training grades. The best pilots were considered by their superiors too valuable to be treated as cannon fodder. Everyone else was expendable. Kawashima Tetsuzo enlisted at 15 and died a few months short of his 18th birthday. Here, his family sift through some mementos. There's a Japanese flag signed by all his classmates and an article from a women's magazine honouring him and others who had died on missions. There were letters of tribute written by his teachers. The first kamikaze missions involved 24 pilots. One of them was 20-year-old Hitora Yukinobu. His plane was second in a formation of six and his death was captured on film. Footage from the US aircraft carrier he was attacking shows his plane being hit in the wing. Pupils had to sing a song, written by their teacher after the young man's death, urging 500 more students to enlist and go to war Tsunoda Kazuo, whose status as an ace pilot meant he was spared kamikaze missions, was assigned to follow the planes and report on the result of the attack. He says the pilots had the message drilled into them that kamikaze missions were their only way of ensuring Japan's survival. The media glorified the pilots' supposedly 'pure-hearted' sacrifice. Their stories were told on the radio, featuring personal messages they'd recorded for their families the night before flying to their deaths. Shrines were erected in their hometowns. A film about the exploits of one squadron was shown in cinemas to huge enthusiasm. The slogan '100 Million Kamikaze' swept across the country. Schools had a big role to play in the propaganda campaign. A friend of a kamikaze pilot recalls an empty coffin being carried into the school hall. Pupils had to sing a song, written by their teacher after the young man's death, urging 500 more students to enlist and go to war. When she's told this by director Takayuki, the teacher's now elderly daughter is surprised he'd written such a thing. She says he was a mild-mannered man who was unfit for military service due to having had TB. 'He must have felt a sense of inferiority,' she says.