Stormtrooper Spreads Firefox

Do you know who Danny Choo is? If you don’t, you’ve missed one of Tokyo’s current cultural institutions.

Anyway, the Stormtrooper lended a helping hand to the Mozilla Foundation when they were spreading Firefox in Akihabara the other day. Numerous young lasses dressed up as maids (what else?) was spreading a good cause among the otakus roaming Akihabara. Not that there is anything wrong with being either an otaku or walking around in Akihabara for that matter! But these marketers sure know their target group!

Anyway, having Danny dressed up in his Stormtrooper gear made the whole event look even more surreal! Here he is trying to convince the Marketing Director of Dell Japan to install Firefox in all new PCs.

Hits Of The World

U.S. Softening on Japanese Re-Armament

By: Gizzi, John. Human Events, 7/17/2006, Vol. 62 Issue 24

In light of North Korea's nuciear arms and missile programs, is the U.S. ready to see Japan change its 59-year-old, constitutionally imposed policy of maintaining a military authorized and equipped only to defend the home islands?
In 2003. the U.S. welcomed Japan's support in the Iraq War, in which the Japanese deployed a small contingent of troops—but for non-combat activities only.
But at a press briefing last week, White House Spokesman Tony Snow hinted the U.S. is open to more revolutionary change in Japan's military posture when I asked whether the U.S. had any objection to recent statements from Tokyo that they might amend their post-war constitution to permit rearmament.
"We will let the Japanese take responsibility for their affairs," Snow said, adding that "if you end up having an arms escalation on the part of the North Koreans, you've got to expect that people in the neighborhood are going to respond. And the question is whether the Chinese want that to happen, or whether the South Koreans want that to happen, and, for that matter, whether the Japanese want it to happen."
When I pressed him as to whether that meant the U.S. would go along with Japan's amending its 1947 constitution written under U.S. occupation (Article 9 of which guarantees Japanese pacifism by limiting its military forces). Snow said: "I'm not answering that question because I don't get into the hypothetical. Wait until we have a situation like that, and I'll give you a response."
Snow's statement came days after Shinzo Abe, who is chief cabinet secretary under Prime Minister Junichiro Kiozumi and is considered the frontrunner to succeed him, suggested Japan should examine the legality and possibility of pre-emptive strikes against North Korea's missiles. Last fall, Abe's party released draft language for rewriting Article 9 that would allow Japan to engage in "collective" defense (i.e. coming to the aid of other nations). And in 2002, the hawkish Abe said he interpreted Japan's constitution to allow Japan to possess nuclear weapons "as long as they are small."
Republican defense experts seemed cautiously open to the prospect of a rearmed Japan. "Given the nature of the North Korean crisis, I think it is appropriate to re-examine the Japanese constitutional limitations on force," said Frank Carlucci, secretary of Defense under Ronald Reagan. "This, of course, is a decision only the Japanese can make."
Center for Security Policy President Frank Gaffney, who served as assistant secretary of Defense under Reagan, was blunter. "To the extent that we're leaving [the Japanesel naked to an extended threat, we leave them no choice," he said. Reacting to Snow's statement on possible Japanese rearmament, Gaffney told me: "There seems to be a signal being sent in what Snow has said."

Kim Jong Il is a threat to stability in Asia. He should be resisted--especially by China

Economist, 00130613, 7/8/2006, Vol. 380

THERE is no law against testing missiles, even far-flying ones intended to rattle nerves around the globe. Yet North Korea's attempted firework display, launching a Taepodong rocket (which fizzled) and half a dozen others (which worked) was calculated to blast a hole in the diplomatic effort by America, South Korea, Japan, China and Russia to get Kim Jong Il's regime to give up its nuclear bomb-building. The bigger worry is that this week's pyrotechnics will incinerate wider efforts to stabilise a region full of dangerous rivalries.

With its medieval economy and eccentric leader, the Hermit Kingdom often seems more tragi-comic than threatening. By many measures, North Korea is not even the most terrifying country in Asia; that dubious honour belongs to Pakistan (see our next leader and this week's survey). Evil though Mr Kim undoubtedly is, the chief dangers his regime poses to outsiders are often accidental: that one of its rockets will unintentionally hit Japan, or that North Korea's economy will collapse (something that terrifies both China and South Korea). Mr Kim claimed that his previous launch--of a Taepodong missile over Japan in 1998--put into orbit a satellite which then warbled patriotic tunes back from space. In fact, although that rocket flew farther than this week's ones, its final stage plopped into the Pacific.

Mad, bad and actually rather dangerous
Yet there are still grounds for worry. Mr Kim would not be the first to claim a space programme as disguise for a weapons programme, and rockets that can lift other things into space can carry warheads too. His latest Taepodong missile, if it can be made to work, might reach parts of North America. It seems unlikely that North Korea would be able to put a nuclear warhead on such a device. But no one knows for sure--and North Korea has worked closely in missile and nuclear matters with Pakistan. A missile test may not be as frightening as the bomb test he contemplated doing last year, but this week's launch drew angry reactions from America, Russia, Japan and even South Korea, which usually glosses over Mr Kim's provocations in the hope of smoother North-South relations.

So what is Mr Kim up to? Miffed at America's recent crackdown on his kleptocratic regime's hard-currency take from dollar counterfeiting, drug running and the like, this week's display was partly a rocket-fuelled raspberry at George Bush. It may also partly have been intended as a technology demonstration for the few countries still in the market to buy North Korean missiles, such as Iran (if so, it did not work well). But Mr Kim's biggest target was surely the six-way talks; in particular, he wants to be treated more like Iran or, especially, India.

North Korea was offered economic and other inducements last September, provided it gave up its claimed clutch of bombs. That puts it broadly in the same category as Iran, which is suspected of having nuclear-weapons ambitions, and is mulling over a superior list of enticements from several European countries, America, Russia and China to give them up. India built its bombs years ago outside the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (unlike North Korea and Iran, which both signed the NPT and then cheated). It hopes the Bush administration can persuade Congress to ratify a foolish deal that would accord it all the civilian nuclear benefits available to the NPT's nuclear-free members while enabling it to continue its bomb-building. North Korea would like the same: to be accepted by America as a nuclear power and still rewarded.

That might seem crazy, especially given the likelihood of sanctions that can only cripple further North Korea's basket case of an economy. But Mr Kim calculates differently. He has always shown scant regard for the plight of his people, caring only for the security of his regime. He still expects to get a good two-thirds or more of the oil and food he needs from China--helping to stave off a return of the famine of the 1990s--and more dollops of aid from South Korea. And that, he knows, will infuriate the Americans.

That is how the wider damage could now be done. Ever since North Korea was caught cheating on its NPT promises for a second time (first making plutonium, later dabbling with another potential bomb ingredient, uranium), America has insisted on the six-way format for nuclear talks. By preventing North Korea playing its neighbours off against each other and America, this has cut Mr Kim's wiggle room. But a split has opened up. America and Japan have stood firm, pressing North Korea to give up its nuclear programmes (and, in Japan's case, to release more of the Japanese citizens abducted over the years by the Kim family regime) and withholding major aid until it does. South Korea and China have lately increased both trade and aid. If their plan was to coax Mr Kim into better behaviour, it has failed.

Where things go from here depends largely on China. North Korea's 1998 test blew a gaping hole in China's diplomacy in the region. It pushed Japan into co-operating even more closely with America on security matters, including on missile defences that some day might be extended to cover Taiwan. The latest test will reinforce Japan's readiness to do more in its own defence, and with America. And it is also a snub to China, which has been convening the six-way effort.

Reasons to stick together
The temptation for a wounded China will be to blame all this on America and Japan. China does not want to antagonise the unpredictable Mr Kim; and it is keen to draw South Korea closer in the game of regional rivalries (both countries have rows with Japan over disputed islands). The result could be a new round of regional suspicion and rivalry--or worse.

Alternatively China could shoulder some real responsibility for security in East Asia and close ranks against Mr Kim. That should start with a clear condemnation from the UN Security Council. But it should go further. Loth to apply sanctions, China props up Mr Kim's regime. Holding back some of that largesse would show him that he cannot destabilise the neighbourhood and get away with it. A lot more than the awkward Mr Kim's future depends on it.

But Some Fear Packed Season Is Too Much Of A Good Thing

By: McClure, Steve, Billboard, 7/08/2006, Vol. 118, Issue 27

This year's summer music festival calendar in Japan is more packed than ever. The big-name, internationally known events such as Fuji Rock and Summer Sonic are the mainstays of the season. But smaller, regional festivals have been popping up the length and breadth of the Japanese archipelago, from the island of Okinawa in the semitropical south to the wide-open spaces of Hokkaido in the north.

"It may have taken longer for most of the regional festivals to be established and known throughout the nation, but we see more strong regional festivals with very strong local lineups this year," says Nori Tsuzuki, manager of concert promoter Kyodo Tokyo's international division.

For example, Kagawa Prefecture on the Seto Island Sea coast of the island of Shikoku is the smallest of Japan's 47 prefectures in geographical terms. But even Kagawa has its own rock festival, Monster Bash (monsterbash.jp), which this year takes place Aug. 26-27 in Manou Park amid Kagawa's gently rolling green hills.

Like many Japanese summer festivals, Monster Bash has a corporate sponsor, NTT DoCoMo Shiikoku, the local branch of Japan's leading mobile-phone company. And like several other summer music events, Monster Bash features Japanese acts only, among them Okinawan rock band HY, jazz-rock group Pe'z and indie-rock act Ellegarden.

Although the summer festival boom shows no signs of ending, some think the whole phenomenon has passed its peak with some 25 large-scale outdoor music events scheduled to take place in Japan this summer.

"It's just a knee-jerk thing now, putting on festivals in summer," one industry source says. "The more festivals there are, the thinner the bills become."

Perhaps. But there's definitely no shortage of big-name acts, domestic and international, playing at summer festivals in Japan this year.

For instance, Fuji Rock's lineup includes such international acts as Red Hot Chili Peppers, Franz Ferdinand, Broken Social Scene, the Hives, Sonic Youth, Super Furry Animals and Madness, as well as leading Japanese acts like Asian Kung-Fu Generation and Mo'some Tonebender.

As in past years, the 2006 edition of Fuji Rock will be July 28-30 in the bucolic setting of Niigata Prefecture's Naeba ski resort, about two hours by express train from Tokyo. Visitors coming to Japan to attend Fuji Rock may be in for a bit of a shock if they expect to see Mt. Fuji's famous snow-capped peak as a backdrop to the show—Japan's national symbol is actually about 200 miles south of the Fuji Rock festival site.

Ever since the first Fuji Rock festival in 1997 set the template for Japanese festivals there's been an emphasis on community and culture at summer music events. Several offer camping facilities and most feature a wide variety of food stalls and stands selling all kinds of crafts, clothes and other goods.

Giving Fuji Rock a run for its money in terms of big-name acts is Summer Sonic, which takes place Aug. 12-13 in Tokyo and Osaka (summersonic.com). International acts appearing at this year's Summer Sonic include Metallica, Linkin Park, Daft Punk, Massive Attack, the Flaming Lips and Tool.

Another major summer festival featuring well-known foreign acts is the Udo Music Festival (udofes.jp), organized by Tokyo-based concert promoter Udo Artists, also in Tokyo and Osaka. The lineup has a distinct classic-rock flavor: Santana, Kiss, Jeff Beck and the Doobie Brothers are among the acts playing the Udo festival.

Billing itself as Japan's biggest summer festival in terms of attendance is the Rock in Japan Festival (rijfes.co.jp), which this year will be Aug. 4-6 in a park near the city of Hitachinaka in Ibaraki Prefecture, northeast of Tokyo. Rock in Japan is sponsored by leading Japanese music magazine Rockin' On and produced by Tokyo-based concert production/promotion company Disk Garage.

"In the last five years, summer festivals in Japan have finally taken root among Japanese music fans," Disk Garage president Takeo Nakanishi says. "They all understand that is the place to enjoy music."

Naoki Shimizu, president of Tokyo-based promotion company Creativeman, which organizes Summer Sonic, is upbeat about Japan's summer festival market.

"As far as Western music is concerned, there are only two—one urban festival [Summer Sonic] and one rural [Fuji Rock], so the market is far from saturated," Shimizu says. "The Udo Music Festival has not established itself as an annual player yet." The event first occurred in 2004 and will be staged for the second time this year. "But it may turn into the third major Western music festival," Shimizu adds.

Shimizu says that because regional festivals featuring domestic repertoire are evenly dispersed throughout the country, "the market is pretty well-balanced."

Massy Hayashi, president of Tokyo-based concert promotion company H.I.P., disagrees.

"There are too many festivals—they're killing the market," Hayashi says bluntly. In the '80s, H.I.P. held a series of Japan Jam outdoor summer festivals—but no more, Hayashi says.

He admits that the summer festival boom has its good side, because 50 days of live music during the summer helps to promote music in general. But having so many acts play in such a relatively short span of time weakens demand in the year-round concert market, Hayashi argues.

The continuing popularity of summer festivals has led companies from outside the concert promotion business to enter the fray. Tower Records Japan, for example, recently organized an event called the Nagisa ("seaside") Music Festival, which was held in Tokyo's Odaiba district beside Tokyo Bay on April 16. The festival's main "all-genre" stage leaned toward club/techno, with Japanese DJ/producer Takkyu Ishino, Jeff Mills and Japanese techno/dub band Audio Active among the featured acts.

The festival also included a hip-hop/reggae stage, a house stage and—unusual for Japan—a stage labeled "Rainbow Gay Mix."

And Avex, Japan's biggest independent label, is again holding its a-nation festival series (a-nation.net/pc), which features major Avex acts such as Ayumi Hamasaki, Kumi Koda and BoA. This year's edition of a-nation comprises seven shows in five cities across Japan from July 29 until Aug. 27.

Long Live The Japanese

By: Mack-Cozzo, Jane. American Enterprise, Jul/Aug2006, Vol. 17 Issue 6

In Western countries we hear constantly about the longevity ot the Japanese, and therefore assume that the quality of Japanese health care is very high. Living in Japan for more than 12 years brought me up close and personal with that system.
And I found it to be a disconcerting experience.
For starters, hospitalization in Japan can be a bit frightening. You are required to bring your own bedding, towels, and soap. It falls on a family member or friend to bring clean bed linens and towels and wash the used ones. There are hardly any private or semi-private bathrooms, lught beds to a room is not uncommon. Often, you must brush your teeth at a common "trough" where several patients do the same.
Nurses are instructed that they must always ask the sensei (doctors) before imdertaking any procedure. Initially, this seems proper. But the same deference applies even when emergencies happen. One friend told me of his wife receiving an IV to ease labor, and watching her go into convulsions because she was allergic to the drug. The attending nurse refused to disconnect the IV "until sensei doctor authorized it." Terrified of losing her, he finally pulled it out himself.
Procedures done on an out-patient basis are no less daunting. Sigmoidoscopies and colonoscopies are routinely done without any kind of anesthetic. One friend, wracked with pain from such a procedure, was exhorted by the attending nurse to grit his teeth and hang on. Enduring pain and suffering without complaint is a hallmark of Japanese culture, even during routine medical procedures.
One time, J was at a dental surgery clinic with an impacted molar that needed to be removed. The head dentist was called in. His disheartening comment after examining me was "Til try." And he did—-as is customary, without general anesthetic. My queries were clearly considered impudent.
In Japan, one does not question any doctor. Waiting to see a physician is an exercise in patience. Two to three hour waits are a regular occurrence. Most lapanese accept this as a normal part of their nationalized health service. (There are few private clinics or practices in Japan.) Many use the time to gossip with friends and neighbors.
Since abortion is used as a method of birth control in Japan, the sound of suction machines is olten heard in gynecological clinics. Contraceptive pills were only made legal in Japan in 1999, due to the lobbying efforts of Japanese abortionists and condom manufacturers.
The Pill continues to be unpopular in Japan—-only a small percentage of women use it—perhaps in part because women are required to see their gynecologists every three months to renew prescriptions, and the national health service doesn't cover these costs.
So what accounts for the longevity of the Japanese? Probably good genetics and, to a lesser extent, diet. Not superior medical care.
—Jane Mack-Cozzo was n professor in Tokyo from 1986 to 1999.

She Wasn't Waiting Around

By: Cagle, Valerie Barrios, New Moon, 1069238X, Jul/Aug2006, Vol. 13, Issue 6

Lady Murasaki's Novel Idea

Did you know that no one knows the name of the world's first novelist? That's because in Japan, 1,000 years ago, no one wrote down a girl's name at birth unless she was royalty. So no one knows the name of the woman who wrote The Tale of the Genji. Instead, people call her by her nickname, Lady Murasaki, or Murasaki Shikibu.

Lady Murasaki was born during the Heian era, a time of peace. Her father raised her, which was unusual. In Japan, a mother and father often had separate houses. The children lived in the mother's house. But Murasaki's mother had died when she was very young.

Murasaki was smart, and one time her father cried, "If only you had been born a boy!" Only upper class men could get an education. But when Murasaki's brother studied with his private tutor, Murasaki joined him. Her father pretended he didn't notice.

Poetry was important in Japan. Because the country was peaceful, people had free time to create. By the time Lady Murasaki was a young woman, she was a powerful poet. Maybe this was because she'd already experienced a lot. Besides losing her mother, she lost her husband to plague after only a few years of marriage. The imperial family heard of Murasaki's talent, so they called her to court to be a lady-in-waiting--a woman who serves the empress.

In court life, people paid a lot of attention to the way others dressed. Lady Murasaki didn't have patience for things she thought weren't important, like fashion. Because she was more educated than Japanese women were supposed to be, she felt she didn't fit in. But she did grow dose to the empress. She even gave the empress lessons in classical Chinese. People thought it was unladylike for a woman to understand Chinese, so the lessons had to be a secret.

Around this time, Murasaki started writing a book about a prince named Genji. Because Genji was an illegitimate, second-born son, he would never become emperor. But he was brave and idealistic. He had many adventures and loved many people.

Lady Murasaki spent years working on The Tale of the Genji, which was 54 chapters long when finished. No one had ever written a book like this: a long story focused on one person, to be read for pleasure. Once people started reading it, they couldn't stop. People from all over Japan asked to read it. Ladies-in-waiting stole copies of the novel for themselves. Since the printing press hadn't been invented, people had to copy the story on long scrolls.

Lady Murasaki became famous. People wanted to know all about her. But she didn't like the attention. She wanted solitude and privacy. She left the imperial palace, and no one knows what she did next. Many people think she became a Buddhist nun, which she'd dreamed of doing.

Japan never lost its passion for The Tale of the Genji. Theater, poetry, stamps, comic books, museums, movies, parades, puppet shows, pop music and dance, and even shower gel continue to be themed on the story. Most importantly, The Tale of the Genji inspired people to write more novels. Next time you browse novels in the bookstore or library, thank Lady Murasaki.

IN MEDIEVAL JAPAN…
• Women blackened their teeth, often using a dye of iron and tea, to match their black hair.

• Women enjoyed great success as poets. Sometimes men wrote under women's names so people would read their poems!

• Chinese was the formal written language. The Tale of the Genji marks Japan's liberation from Chinese influence because Lady Murasaki wrote it in Japanese.

To learn more about Lady Murasaki and The Tale of the Genji, visit www.forgirlsandtheirdreams.org and click on "Links Girls Like"

"GENJI" IS JAPANESE FOR. "SHINING PRINCE." In The Tale of the Genji, Genji loves a woman named Lady Murasaki. That's how the book's mysterious author got her nickname.

Surviving Armageddon

By: Shwetzer, Robin Pekelney, World War II, Jul/Aug2006, Vol. 21, Issue 4

In the final year of the Pacific War, the Japanese worked undetected on a massive underground fortification project that might have convinced Emperor Hirohito to fight on--even after the atomic bombs were dropped.

A mushroom cloud billowing up toward the heavens is fixed in our imaginations as a symbol of ultimate destruction. With two blasts, the United States brought its bitterest opponent to its knees after years of brutal combat and added a measure of human reality to the Atomic Age, which had begun in a lab in 1942. In the first, on August 6, 1945, 60 percent of Hiroshima and an estimated 130,000 of its inhabitants were incinerated in a flash. A second detonation at Nagasaki three days later leveled a third of the city and caused another 75,000 casualties. The devastation wrought on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was significant, but it was not total.

Deep beneath the hills of Nagasaki, a tunnel complex shielded 2,500 Mitsubishi factory workers from the bomb's catastrophic effects. Buildings directly outside the tunnel entrances and a nearby aboveground plant were destroyed with high loss of life, but those toiling away deep inside the earth remained unscathed, the only damage being tunnel entrances partially pushed in and some exterior doors shattered by the blast. Other underground factories in Nagasaki also withstood the bombing.

While the Japanese government had not designed those facilities to withstand an atomic bomb, their survival was a testament to a hastily planned yet ambitiously pursued underground construction program that--given more time--could have profoundly affected Japanese confidence and influenced Emperor Hirohito's decision to agree to the unthinkable and sue for peace. Considering Allied ignorance of the extent of the Japanese underground effort, had the planned invasion of the Home Islands--Operation Olympic-actually occurred, estimates of expected casualties into the millions might have seemed paltry. In the end, the bunkers had little impact on the ultimate outcome of the war, but their story says a great deal about Japan's determination to resist and the potential costs of incomplete intelligence.

As incredible as it seems given the destruction of Nagasaki, deep in the bowels of the earth at the time of the atomic bomb attack, 2,500 factory workers were almost unfazed by a blast that killed 75,000 people aboveground.

The scope and strength of German fortifications--the West Wall, Siegfried Line and Adolf Hitler's Berlin Bunker--are well ensconced in popular imagination, as are the less substantial cave, coral and coconut log fortifications used by the emperor's soldiers on Tarawa, Peleliu, Iwo Jima, Okinawa and other remote but fiercely contested Pacific islands. But that is only half the story. By mid-1944 the Japanese government was implementing a strategic underground facility program nearly rivaling Nazi Germany's and likely surpassing a similar program in the Soviet Union.

The paper trail on the Japanese effort is long and thorough. U.S. intelligence reports declassified later and high-level Japanese documents that survived the war reveal that the Japanese government, with Hirohito's approval, designed an extensive underground program that was intended to protect the emperor, his family and staff, top-level civilian and military leaders, military industry, fleet and army command posts, and communications centers. Other sources also point to the program's use to protect underground biological weapons laboratories in Manchuria. In fact, by August 1945 more than 200 strategic underground facilities of substantial size and scope were either planned, under construction or operational. As thorough as their intelligence was, the Allies had no idea of the extent of these facilities until after Imperial Japan's final defeat.

Emperor Hirohito (left) carried out an accelerated bunker-building program that had been approved during Prime Minister Hideki Tojo's (right) final week in office. Had their program continued for six more months, the emperor may have been less willing to consider peace.

Strategic deep-underground facilities were built within the Home Islands between the late 1930s and 1943, but it was not until mid-1944 as the war situation worsened that the government decided to build underground facilities for virtually every government agency and military entity. On July 10, 1944, the Japanese cabinet approved a proposal to create an emergency construction corps within the underground construction unit of the Railways Secretariat. Prime Minister Hideki Tojo, just a week before his resignation, agreed and signed the order for the minister of transportation and communications to recruit workers from railroad companies to build these underground structures. Railroad workers were likely chosen because they had experience tunneling through mountains. Even with the Japanese war machine working at maximum effort, special provisions ensured that labor and materials were available for the organization and operation of this new corps.

Construction of the bunkers was prioritized to maintain the "functionality of domestically important facilities." At the top were the army, navy, Ministry of Home Affairs and Ministry of Munitions. The order may have also supported underground tactical military sites, like those built to repel an expected ground attack on Kyushu.

Six months after the creation of the corps, the minister of transportation and communications requested an imperial order to support the corps and increase its funding and staff. On January 12, 1945, the cabinet agreed to add more than 200 staff members, including an imperial appointee. By July 31, 1945, 1,744 workers were assigned to the corps.

Japan's military leadership was astute in constructing such facilities deep underground; it made them impervious to conventional aerial bombing and, although they could not know this, nuclear weapons--unless attacked directly. The nuclear survivability of the tunnels was highlighted in a postwar study by the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey (USSBS) on the "Effects of Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki," whose inspectors discovered the existence of many of the bunkers while preparing their study.

In a small bunker on the grounds of the Imperial Palace, Hirohito meets with Kantaro Suzuki (front row, far left) and the rest of his cabinet on the evening of August 14, 1945, in a painting by Ichiro Shirakawa. Faith in the potential of the underground bunkers to survive even the most devastating attacks may have led some within Hirohito's inner circle to press for continued resistance.

When the cabinet order on underground construction was first signed in July 1944, a plan was also approved to relocate key government and military facilities from vulnerable spots, such as Tokyo, to the town of Matsushiro, about 110 miles northwest of Tokyo and five miles south of Nagano. "Temporary" command facilities would be built there. This enormous project entailed three large tunnel systems about 100 feet beneath Mount Minakamiyama, Mount Zozan, and Mount Maizuruyama. The emperor, his family, government agencies and the Imperial General Headquarters would all move to this huge subterranean complex. Military communications units, the central telephone office and the NHK (Japanese Broadcasting Office) would also have space. To ensure secrecy, laborers recruited for the project were told they were building an underground warehouse for the army.

During an earlier meeting of the cabinet, Hirohito had signed this imperial order ceiling for the immediate creation of on emergency construction corps to carry out a vast underground building effort.

In November 1944, excavation commenced on the imperial headquarters at Mount Maizuruyama. The emperor's temporary space was opulent and lined with beautiful cypress wood. An order was also issued to build an underground chamber at Matsushiro to protect the imperial regalia--the curved jewel, the sacred mirror and the sacred sword--which symbolized the imperial house's legitimacy. Construction was almost complete by August 1945, but it was never occupied by the intended tenant.

The tunnel complexes in Matsushiro were designed by engineers at the Department of the Army. The Ministry of Transportation and Communications' Underground Construction Unit managed the enormous project. When sufficient domestic labor could not be found, several thousand Korean laborers were conscripted to dig more than seven miles of tunnels at Matsushiro. Other laborers eventually joined the project, including soldiers of the Eastern Division and Construction battalions, the Industrial Reserve Army, the Labor Service Corps, and finally students from the railroad school and local public schools. Conditions during construction were horrendous, particularly for the Korean workers: Estimates of the total number of deaths range from a few hundred to 1,000.

After the war, Hirohito's adviser, Lord Privy Seal Koichi Kido, stated that the emperor never dreamed of fleeing "to commit suicide in a cave" while the people fought and died to repel the invaders. The construction of the facilities around Matsushiro and the resources put at the builders' disposal, however, strongly suggest otherwise. Evidence also suggests that Hirohito decided on July 31, 1945, to move to Matsushiro--and to bring along his three essential items of regalia.

As workers labored in the hills around Matsushiro, the future occupants of the bunkers waited in existing facilities in and around Tokyo. Bunkers had been built under the prime minister's office and below the War Ministry in the Ochigaya area of the capital. A secret underground broadcasting station was set up in case the NHK building was destroyed. At least one of those sites, the War Ministry's underground headquarters, was tunneled at a depth of more than 50 feet beneath the basement of the War Department's main building. There was also a bunker on the grounds of the Imperial Palace.

Elsewhere, dozens of additional facilities were built or expanded. These complexes often integrated underground command and communications centers, ammunition storage and even weapons factories. The navy constructed several sophisticated underground complexes at Yokosuka, Sasebo and in tunnels under Keio University, south of Tokyo. Yokosuka, located in Honshu, is now a U.S. Navy base, but during the war it served as a Japanese naval air base. Between 1938 and 1945, more than 20 separate tunnel networks were bruit there. Underground facilities at Yokosuka included a hospital, electrical power-generating facilities and miles of tunnels for the assembly and manufacture of parts for Japanese naval aircraft. Facilities at the largest air base in Japan, at Atsugi, were to include an underground repair plant, generator and extensive quarters for personnel.

Moroccan "volunteer" workers help with the German construction effort along the Atlantic Wall. RIGHT: Female employees work at a Japanese armament factory. While the forced labor of thousands in building the Atlantic Wall is well known and documented, the effort by thousands of Japanese and Korean workers to construct concrete defenses on an even grander scale is largely forgotten. Soldiers desperately needed at the front were assigned to help with the effort, an indication of the importance of the emperor's building project.

Some components of the underground naval facilities were remarkably well designed and constructed. After the war, inspectors gathering information for the USSBS found the deep-underground ammunition magazines at the Sasebo base in southern Kyushu to be exceptionally sturdy. The most outstanding feature was an inner tunnel structure, which helped to control moisture and maintain temperature. Sasebo also housed a deep-underground command, control and communications center. Allied engineers who inspected the Japanese headquarters beneath Keio found a sophisticated complex with offset adits (tunnel openings) to prevent shell or bomb fragments from entering, 10 very well-protected ventilator shafts, an elaborate water supply and sanitation system, redundant electrical power, reserves of water and fuel, and chemical warfare decontamination equipment. These facilities encountered few of the problems that plagued underground industrial plants hastily constructed and run by corporations. The navy's success suggests that had there been time to do it, Japan may have overcome deficiencies at those plants as well.

Though most of Japan's strategic underground facilities were built to protect its leaders, command and control, and conventional military industry, it turns out that some were used to conduct horrific biological weapons-related experiments on humans. These tunnel complexes were located in Manchuria but nonetheless were of strategic importance. Japan's "Epidemic Prevention and Water-Supply Unit," better known as Unit 731, was established in 1936 to research, develop and manufacture biological weapons. From 1936 until 1945, Unit 731 conducted experiments on live human subjects that resulted in at least 3,000 gruesome deaths.

Underground facilities were built at the main complex near Harbin, known as Ping Fang, and at other sites in Manchuria. At Ping Fang, extensive underground facilities were used for human experimentation, according to Wang Peng, the curator of Unit 73 l's Criminal Evidence Museum, which is located at the Ping Fang complex's former main office. The museum staff is now excavating in search of deep-underground laboratories and associated tunnels. Local villagers contend that when excavating building foundations, they often come across hidden openings to underground shafts. Additional sources confirm that experiments took place in tunnels at Ping Fang. At the Unit I00 biological weapons facility at Changchun, tunnels housed laboratories and allegedly contained bunkers that stored such weapons.

Biological weapons experimentation was the most atrocious component of Japan's underground program, but the most extensive and impressive was the empire's effort to bury a significant portion of its military industry. Erroneously believing that the U.S. Army Air Forces would have little impact on production, Japan's industrial establishment did not begin dispersing its factories on a large scale until the fall of 1944, as the U.S. strategic bombing effort intensified. At that time most aircraft production was concentrated in and around Tokyo, Nagoya and Osaka. But some companies, in anticipation of a government order to move their production to safer locations, had already begun to dismantle their plants. Following the bombing attacks of November and December, an urgent dispersal of the aircraft industry began, without government direction or control. In February 1945, shortly after the imperial ordinance was issued to increase resources for underground construction, the government assumed control of the underground and surface dispersal effort.

Aerial photographs taken over the Home Islands in the months leading up to Operation Olympic showed signs of underground construction, but photo interpreters often failed to understand the importance of what they were seeing.

By April 1945, the dispersal of industry was taking place on a fairly large scale. The government planned to move 993 manufacturing plants, 172 of them to underground sites. The majority of the plants going below ground were to produce aircraft and aircraft equipment. At least 73 sites were newly excavated tunnel complexes, while the others were either expanded and reconfigured from former mines and caves, or based in abandoned railway, highway and streetcar tunnels.

Declassified U.S. documents, including a study by the former Military Intelligence Service (MIS) published in 1946, show that the Japanese encountered insurmountable obstacles to underground production. The Germans overcame some of the problems that plagued the Japanese, such as drainage, ventilation and lighting. Insufficient time was considered a major factor confronting the Japanese as they began to build underground industrial plants too late in the war.

According to the MIS report, by the time the Japanese realized the necessity of dispersing and moving industry underground, they were engrossed in production commitments and took action only after numerous cities had been bombed. Other problems included inadequate transportation, shortages of materials, poor site selection, insufficient storage space and high humidity--which rusted valuable tools and products. Mitsubishi's Matsumoto airframe-works plant in Nagano prefecture exemplifies the problems. The decision was made in February 1945 to build an underground plant, and work began on the tunnels in April under the supervision of the army. The original geological site survey concluded that shoring was unnecessary, but in actuality the unstable rock required extensive timber support. Timber was very scarce at that point in the war. Transportation became the most significant problem, first in the movement of machine tools and equipment from Nagoya to Matsumoto and later to transport materials underground. The facility was scheduled to be 50 percent complete by June and fully operational within two months, but by August only 40 percent of the facility was completed. Nakajima's underground aircraft factory at Shiroyama was similarly unfinished by the end of the war. Manufacturing began there in late April 1945, but only half the planned facility was completed by war's end. Actual airframe production amounted to only four fuselages and four wing assemblies.

Many underground sites had inadequate rail facilities, and the ones in the hills would have been inaccessible during winter snows. The Mitsubishi Nukatani underground aircraft engine plant was accessible only by foot up a narrow road, which was often washed out in many places by heavy rains. The company initiated road, residence and bridge building projects. Beginning in July 1945, machine tools were laboriously pulled up the mountain road by hand.

A USSBS special report on the underground aircraft industry concluded: "Japanese underground installations were begun too late for them to be able to save the production of aircraft. In any event, their existence could not have overcome other problems such as shortages of vital raw materials and fuel." The survey did, however, also report that the "profusion of tunnels, caves, and mines is impressive." One of the most advanced plants visited by inspectors was Nakajima's Yoshimatsu aircraft engine plant near Matsuyama, southwest of Tokyo. Its tunnels were fairly dry due to the particular quality of the volcanic rock in which they were excavated. In many places concrete floors had been laid. Corrosion became a problem right away and each worker was responsible for keeping his machine from rusting; finished parts were removed from the tunnels immediately. This well-camouflaged facility had two entrances located in sheer cliffs more than 75 feet high.

Despite the haste of building them, many underground sites were cleverly hidden. For example, an entrance to the Mitsubishi underground aircraft parts factory southwest of Nagoya at Hisai was covered by a building and built on fairly flat ground, which proved an unusual and effective means of concealment. This plant, like virtually all underground factories in Japan, went undiscovered by Allied intelligence during the war. The USSBS highlighted this point: "The principal advantages of an underground installation are that it is hard to find, makes a very poor target, and would probably be safe from any weapon used in the Second World War."

Some information was known by the Allies about the Japanese underground industrial dispersal program, but specific data were scant on the location of such sites. Even less human intelligence was available on the very secret underground leadership facilities and other strategic underground bunkers. Intercepted communications were also silent on the issue of underground facilities.

Aerial photography was scarcely more helpful in bridging the intelligence gap. Most imagery covered cities and did not extend out into the country far enough to cover even one-third of the existing underground industrial plants or other remote facilities. Moreover, photo interpreters were not alerted to look for underground installations. When a Japanese strategic tunneling project was identified on air photos, the significance of the activity was not understood. For instance, a few deep-underground factories under construction were identified on reports as "areas of tunnel activity" or misidentified as storage depots. Only three or four Japanese underground aircraft plants--of a total of 73 newly excavated tunnel sites--were located by photo interpreters during the war, and of those described in published reports, none were correctly identified as aircraft plants.

ABOVE: Aircraft fuselages await final assembly at Nakajima's underground facility at Shiroyama. Believing victory was inevitable, Japanese industries initially thought dispersal of their factories was unnecessary. RIGHT: Korechika Anami, minister of war at the time of the atomic attacks and most likely influenced by the underground effort already well underway, was one of those who urged Hirohito to continue fighting.

While there was little human source information on Japan's strategic underground program, the empire's use of caves and underground complexes in the Pacific islands should have prompted-inquiry into a possible tunneling effort on the Home Islands. The Allies' relatively successful methods used to detect German underground facilities could have been applied to Japan. In October 1944, nearly nine months after the Germans had begun their underground program, a special underground section was organized at the Allied Central Interpretation Unit (ACIU) at Royal Air Force (RAF) Station Medmenham, England, to detect and characterize underground facilities. The section, known as "B-6," had a maximum strength of seven photo interpreters, two cartographers and part-time services of a geologist. About 60 underground factories in Ger many or German-occupied countries were identified by this unit. Photo interpreters noted a consistent pattern of construction and operation of German underground facilities, which aided in the detection of these sites and their characterization as industrial facilities. Still, 167 German underground factories were not confirmed by photo intelligence during the war.

After the war, U.S. military intelligence was amazed to discover that Japan's dispersal of aircraft and engine manufacturing plants to underground locations was far more extensive than had been suspected. In an attempt to understand why the United States failed to correctly identify any of these plants, a former B-6 photo interpreter analyzed aerial photos of Japanese underground plants taken during and shortly after the war. He noted that newly excavated Japanese facilities exhibited a pattern strikingly similar to German sites at the same stage of construction. He surmised that if the lessons learned regarding the interpretation of German underground plants had been applied to the Japanese plants, and if a concerted effort had been made to locate and identify such facilities, results could have been much better.

Japanese leaders interviewed after the war revealed that they had some general knowledge of German underground installations but that any similarities between the Japanese and German programs was due to events that forced them both to resort to the only apparent solution: Move the factories where they would be hard to find and difficult to bomb. U.S. analysts noted, "In this, they were largely successful."

Soon after the atomic blasts, American experts rushed to Hiroshima and Nagasaki to view the devastation. It was only during the more detailed site inspections by members of the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey, however, that the Allies became fully aware of the extent of Japan's underground construction effort and gained same understanding of its potential impact on the course of the war. Much of what the USSBS discovered was later published in The Campaigns of the Pacific War, including schematic diagrams of some of the facilities.

Negligible human intelligence, inadequate aerial coverage and inexperienced photo interpreters were why the Allies 'failed to detect and characterize Japanese underground facilities. But, according to the USSBS report on the underground construction of Japanese aircraft, it is very difficult to identify such facilities through photo interpretation even when analysts are well trained. Inspectors from the USSBS stated that postwar air-photo interpretation, even when based on information that the USSBS supplied, still could not find most entrances at locations that had been visited by survey inspectors. The report added that it was impossible to determine how extensive an underground plant might be or what activity was being conducted there by air-photo interpretation alone.

As one example, Mitsubishi's underground aircraft engine production plant at Sabae would have been almost impossible to detect using aerial photography. Inspectors visiting the plant after the war reported: "From the standpoint of aerial reconnaissance, the facility was 'exceptionally concealed.' Only a small amount of spoil was visible and the roads were almost completely concealed by trees." The inspectors noted that the facility would have been comparatively safe from a direct bombing attack. The same went for another Mitsubishi underground aircraft plant, located at Shakutani. The inspector who visited that site wrote, "So skillfully were the semi-underground plants built into the hillside that one building was almost passed during an inspection trip before it was noticed."

Japan's underground program was a serious attempt at strategic survival. Tunnel complexes, such as the alternate naval headquarters at Keio, facilities at Sasebo and Yokosuka, Matsushiro and several industrial plants, were well designed and sophisticated. Had the Japanese military leadership been more willing to see that its industry, government and military were at risk from air attack six months sooner, and ordered a serious tunneling program then, the majority of its underground facilities could have been fully operational by August 1945. Even with the late start, though, the program likely contributed to the military leadership's overconfidence in the regime's ability to survive.

A different result would have had profound consequences for the Allies. If a sizable number of unidentified underground factories operated during the war, Japanese weapons production would have increased and the Allies would have miscalculated their enemy's capabilities. Further, if these facilities had been fully operational and occupied, the emperor and his military leaders may have been less likely to consider surrender as their only option to annihilation, in which case the war could have continued even longer and the defense of the underground network could have caused numbers of casualties beyond even the most gruesome estimates of Allied planners.

Apart from the Mitsubishi workers busy in the underground factory at Nagasaki at the time of that blast, the USSBS noted in its report that the 400 or so people who were properly placed in Nagasaki's tunnel shelters also survived, including those in tunnels nearly directly under the explosion. The shelters consisted of rough tunnels dug horizontally into the sides of hills with crude, earth-filled blast walls protecting the entrances. The tunnels had a capacity of roughly 100,000 people. The USSBS surmised that the loss of life in Nagasaki would have been substantially lower had these tunnel shelters been filled to capacity: "Without question, shelters can protect those who get to them against anything but a direct hit."

The survivability of deep-underground facilities and their occupants did not go unnoticed by Japanese military commanders. In fact, after the bombing of Hiroshima, Field Marshal Shunroku Hata, who had visited the devastated city, pointed out to General Korechika Anami, then minister of war, that people who were underground seemed to have escaped the effects of radiation. General Anami asked the field marshal to be sure to report that fact to the emperor, as it "might affect His Majesty's final decision."

According to a formerly classified U.S. Air Force photo-interpretation manual on underground installations published in 1954, "It was generally agreed that hostilities in both the European and Pacific theaters of operations would have been at least prolonged, with a resultant greater loss of Allied lives, if the Germans and Japanese had completed their underground pro grams before hostilities commenced, or at least early in the war."

Japan's failure in this regard was not repeated by other countries. During the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union--among many others built deep-underground facilities to protect their most valuable assets. The Soviets had a comprehensive underground program to ensure the survival of the leadership and military command and control that also included the protection of military industry. Most notably, the Soviets tunneled into a mountain in Krasnoyarsk to protect three plutonium production reactors. Meanwhile, the United States built similar underground facilities of its own.

Underground facilities are now built in peacetime throughout the world for defense during times of crisis. Their uses range from protecting weapons of mass destruction and their delivery systems to harboring terrorists and leaders in caves and holes--as was found to be the case with Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. Underground facilities, particularly deep ones, give leaders whose military forces are less technically advanced or potent than their adversary's a sense of confidence and security. Until technology allows us to identify these facilities with ease, underground networks such as those built by the Japanese will remain a feature of warfare well into the future.

Novices at War

By: Barker, Jonathan A., World War II, 08984204, Jul/Aug2006, Vol. 21, Issue 4

VINCENNES WAS AN imposing sight when I first saw it tied alongside a pier in the New York Naval Shipyard on January 6, 1942. The heavy cruiser had just arrived with gold shipped from the Bank of South Africa--lest the Nazis capture it. I had received my orders to report to the ship upon my graduation from the U.S. Naval Academy two weeks before. New to the fleet and expecting to serve on a ship ready for war, what I experienced on Vincennes would illustrate that I was not the only one who had a lot to learn about fighting a war against one of the most experienced navies in the world.

After reporting for duty, I began to learn my way around and in particular acquaint myself with the 1.1-inch anti-aircraft guns I would be in charge of, as well as other new installations. One of my explorations took me to the vicinity of the mainmast, where I noticed that yard workmen were running copper tubing up the mast, which was very puzzling. What little ship construction and damage control we had been taught at the Naval Academy stated that copper tubing was for salt water distribution or potable water; neither function seemed to apply in the mainmast.

Later I learned that the tubing was actually a wave guide run for the hush-hush radar equipment. The secrecy that surrounded radar was later to lead to its misuse and the consequent failure to detect a Japanese force that would bring Vincennes' combat career to a fiery end.

With the overhaul completed we got underway for our shakedown cruise off South America on March 4, followed by a trip through the Panama Canal a week later. As the water in the canal locks was lowered, the ship's deck came level with the dockside, which enabled the transfer of every type of animal or beverage from dockside to the ship. For many days thereafter, we had strange creatures running and flying around the ship, and junior officers like myself busily engaged in shooing them off.

Next we proceeded to Mare Island Shipyard, where further repairs were made before we anchored in San Francisco Bay. Soon after our arrival everything was ready for us to go to war. On the morning of our scheduled departure on April 2, we were enveloped in a thick fog. The aircraft carrier Hornet came close aboard and we could see the array of large twin-engine aircraft on its fright deck, which we assumed was for delivery to Clark Field in the Philippines.

We fell into formation astern Hornet and headed west. As we sailed along, it was decided to launch one of our Curtiss SOC (Scout, observation, Curtiss) floatplanes for training. I had been assigned as a catapult officer and had made several dummy shots, so I had a little experience with the necessary procedure. The aircraft was hoisted to the catapult and secured to the cradle. The pilot, though recently trained, had not yet made a catapult launch. On command, I launched him--a beautiful shot that led to a graceful water landing. The pilot had forgotten to put his flaps down, and did not have adequate lift for flight.

The ship circled and recovered the plane, an exercise that was deemed useful for training in hoisting aircraft onto the high catapults. The engine and instruments were salvaged and the fabric stripped from the frame. Later, when practicing hoisting the plane, we received a frantic message from our flagship: "Do not launch that aircraft! It appears unsafe!"

A few days later we joined another group of ships, including the carrier Enterprise. It was then that we learned that the aircraft we had seen on Hornet were not intended for Clark Field, but were B-25 bombers that were to be launched against Tokyo itself.

We refueled the cruisers and carriers to maximum capacity and headed for a launch point about 400 miles from Tokyo. Along the way we encountered a cluster of Japanese fishing boats about 600 miles from the Japanese capital and correctly assumed that our presence had been reported. Fortunately, Japanese bureaucracy was as inefficient as ours, and the message was not acted upon quickly.

The new light cruiser Nashville commenced firing on the largest fishing boat at very short range, which resulted in a nearly flat trajectory. The seas were so large that on a crest Nashville was shooting over the fisherman, and on a trough it was firing into the water below it.

Hornet soon commenced launching Major James H. Doolittle's aircraft. I was not aware of the surface effect--extra lift created by the compressed cushion of air in very low flight--so the B-25's takeoff began with the bomber dropping to just a few feet above the water. The whole thing seemed like a disaster in the making. You could almost hear the sigh of relief when the last plane had launched and they had all picked up speed and climbed to altitude and were on course for Tokyo.

After the launch, Task Force 18 turned about and headed back to Pearl Harbor, arriving on April 25. We had just five days in port before being ordered to sea again. We were headed toward the Coral Sea but arrived too late to take part in the battle. It was then back to Pearl, which we reached on May 26. Again our stay was short, departing for Midway on the 29th.

During the subsequent battle, I discovered that our anti-aircraft weapons were not as effective as they should have been. The principal anti-aircraft weapon of the day was the 5-inch/25-caliber or 5-inch/38-caliber. The projectile had a nose fuze that was set mechanically by ranges sent down from the optical range finder. The projectile was then lifted from the fuze setter and manually loaded into the breech of the gun. This system was no match for an enemy aircraft diving on a carrier; it was basically useless. We were able to knock a Kate (Nakajima B5N2) torpedo bomber into the sea, but our actions during that epic battle were largely confined to dodging torpedoes and helping our sister ship Astoria protect Yorktown until the carrier was torpedoed.

After Midway we refitted and repaired, and on July 14 left to rendezvous with American ships participating in the Guadalcanal landings. Great emphasis was placed on secrecy of the task force's movement, so when we detected a Japanese patrol aircraft coming over the horizon we headed at high speed for a large rainstorm for concealment before the size of our force could be observed.

As we steamed along, someone concluded that the crew's prewar standard uniform of white T-shirt and dungarees was highly visible to search aircraft. An immediate order was issued that all T shirts should be dyed a dark color, but the only "dye" we had on board was mess hall coffee. So into the coffee pots went the T-shirts, and out came a variety of colors and patterns--most a sorry mess, but supposedly we were less visible. We entered the channel off Guadalcanal on August 7, just as day was breaking. It looked like a peaceful tropical setting until the cruisers began shore bombardment as a preface to the Marines' landing.

The first Japanese attack was by high-altitude bombers. That was followed by a wave of twin-engine torpedo-launching Bettys (Mitsubishi G4Mls). As they came in, the ships fired the 8-inch guns for effect, with some success. The 5-inch anti-aircraft guns also scored, but did not knock down all the attackers. One flew directly astern at very close range. The main battery firing had jarred loose the ammunition clips in my 1.1 AA mount, so it was useless. All I could do was watch helplessly as the Betty lost altitude and crashed. Afterward the bullet marks on the superstructure behind me showed that the Betty's grinner was aiming for me.

Late in the afternoon, all officers not on watch were summoned to the wardroom. The exec told us that coast watchers had spotted a Japanese task force headed for us at high speed. However, Naval Intelligence had advised that the Japanese ships did not have sufficient fuel capacity to continue at the reported speed, and would have to slow. Their arrival was estimated at about 1100 the next morning.

That night we formed up with Quincy and Astoria, repeatedly steaming a square in Guadalcanal Sound just off Savo Island. Destroyer pickets were put farther up the slot to intercept Japanese forces, but the lack of training in radar returns made them ineffective.

I went on watch at midnight as the watch officer for the 1.1-inch AA battery. At about 0200 hours, a small, single-engine aircraft showing blue flames from its exhausts flew directly overhead at slow speed. I reported it to the bridge and was told that the captain, Frederick Lois Riefkohl, had decreed that it was friendly. That conclusion was incredible considering there was no friendly airfield from which it could have come, and our one carrier had withdrawn a long way. The overflight by the aircraft did not even trigger General Quarters; we remained with only half the guns manned. The decision reflected years of peacetime conditioning to no take any risks, and the intelligence estimate we had of a late-morning as oppose, to such an early arrival by the Japanese.

The Japanese aircraft had ideal conditions for observation. The night was clear, the water highly phosphorescent so our wakes were easily seen, and the pilot ha, plenty of time to look as we steamed the same square repeatedly.

My watch station was in machine-gun control in the mainmast structure. At on point, a searchlight illuminated us and shouted: "Turn off that damn light! The Japanese will see us!" Just then the general alarm went off throughout the ship, including a unit right at my station. The deafening racket from the persistent alarm made it impossible to hear any re ports from the gun crews or to ask an,. questions over the sound-powered phone system.

My division officer relieved me, and started for my General Quarters station with the two 1.1 mounts on the fantail. I I went down to the main deck I had to g, through the hangar, which was pitch dark and full of equipment to fall over. I chose to go across the boat deck, which was slippery with oil leaking from the boat cranes. The ship had gone to full speed and was making radical turns. Each turn slid m across the deck, until finally I reached the after end and the ladder leading to the fantail.

We had taken numerous gunfire hits by this time from a powerful enemy force of six cruisers and one destroyer. One of the hits had set our observation planes on fire and illuminated the ship, which made us an easier target. Astoria and Quincy had experienced similar hits and they too were now blazing.

We were next hit by torpedoes, causing loss of power. By the time I reached the fantail, we were dead in the water and beginning to list to starboard. Someone yelled at me that the order had been given to abandon ship. I did not realize how badly the ship had been damaged and was reluctant to believe the order. A sudden roll to starboard convinced me, and I jumped into the water.

I was wearing an issue .45 pistol, which dragged me down. I started to unbuckle it but hesitated, remembering the procedure that dictated I keep it. In a flash I forgot all that and let the pistol sink to the bottom by itself. I joined other survivor, including several wounded who were put in a life boat. It was around 0230 and within 20 minutes my first ship rolled over and sank. Worried that the blood would draw sharks, we did not have much of an opportunity to ponder Vincenne. fate. Fortunately, the gunfire and torpedo explosions seemed to have driven any sharks away. Our next concern was that we were drifting toward Savo Island, which we knew was held by the enemy.

Joining the fleet in 1937, USS Vincennes was one of the most modern cruisers the U.S. Navy possessed when newly commissioned Jonathan A. Barker reported aboard in January 1942.

About dawn, the destroyer Mugford approached and began recovering survivors. Almost as soon as it reached us, however, it dashed off to drop depth charges. Eventually, the destroyer returned and put over cargo nets that enabled the crew members and Vincennes survivors to boost the wounded to the deck and then climb up themselves. It was a terrible sight to see the wounded sitting propped up against the deckhouse or sprawled on deck. Some died as you looked at them; others moaned in pain; many just suffered and waited for the overwhelmed hospital corpsmen to get to them.

Mugford then went alongside the troop transport Barnett, which had brought Marines in for the invasion. Even with Barnett's facilities, the ship was very crowded with its load of survivors from the four cruisers that had been sunk the night before. I was appalled at the crowded conditions in sick bay when I checked on some of our crew.

Many of the survivors were immediately ordered to other ships in the Pacific and transferred by any available vessels. Barnett went into Noumea to refuel and provision. The captain's yeoman was swamped with demands for immediate typed copies of the action reports required from each survivor able to write one. After finishing my own report, I had nothing to do, so I volunteered to type drafts of the handwritten reports. That expedited the final typing, and gave me a chance to learn about what had happened elsewhere on my ship.

The light I had seen on the morning of August 9, 1942, was from Vice Adm. Gunichi Mikawa's advancing fleet of cruisers, which had already pummeled the Australian cruiser Canberra and USS Chicago. Just after lighting us up, a Japanese salvo struck the ship with a barrage of shells. It was this salvo that had ignited our aircraft. Lit up in the darkness, we continued to be struck by enemy shells and were then hit by Japanese torpedoes, which knocked out steering control and left us dead in the water. Our ship went down at 0250. It had not been an auspicious combat debut, but at least I survived.

I did not remain an "ensign typist" for long. Already jittery from the losses suffered at Savo, someone suggested that a Japanese submarine might penetrate the channel leading into Noumea. A night patrol was established to prevent such an occurrence. The "fleet" that was gathered for this operation consisted of two tired LCVPs (landing craft, vehicle, personnel), each with several depth charges and a boat crew drawn from the survivors on Barnett.

The channel was not deep enough for a submerged submarine, so the depth charges were more of a threat to the boat crew than the enemy. There seemed to be perpetual cloud cover in the area and the channel was pitch-black. The great challenge occurred when it was time for the standby boat to relieve the duty boat at the channel mouth. It was not possible to see your hand in front of your face; channel navigation was by the feeble phosphorescence of the waves lapping the water's edge. A collision between the duty boat and the relief boat was a distinct possibility. Frequent stops to listen for shouts or engine noise were our only means of a successful encounter.

Somehow I survived this duty without incident and eventually made it back to Pearl Harbor with the rest of Vincennes' survivors. We were greeted by Admiral Chester Nimitz, who made the best of the disaster at Savo by giving us a warm greeting. At the end of his speech he ordered all the junior officers to report at once for submarine physicals, as there was a desperate shortage of officers to man the new boats coming into the fleet. I did not qualify, so I went on to a new heavy cruiser under construction in Boston, and in a few months went back to the Pacific a wiser and more experienced officer.

Expecting to serve on a ship in fighting trim, after taking part in the Doolittle Raid, Coral Sea and Midway, the young lieutenant realized that he and his shipmates had a great deal to learn about fighting the Imperial Japanese Navy, lessons he hoped they would learn quickly as they steamed to Guadalcanal.