No Surrender (7 page)

It was possible for an officer to have the authority to deploy troops without being able to change orders previously issued to them by their immediate superior. Deployment did not take precedence over orders. When I went to Lubang, I went with orders to
lead
the men in guerrilla warfare but not to
command
them. I could tell them how the thing should be done and make them do it that way, but it was up to their immediate superiors to decide whether they were to engage in guerrilla warfare. In the days that ensued, this lack of authority turned out to be a terrible encumbrance to me.

After reporting for duty and receiving my orders, I went back to the staff room. As I entered, Major Takahashi laughed and said, “Onoda, you'll be surprised at the treat in store for you on Lubang. Why, that oufit there is the best in the whole Japanese army!”

Major Taniguchi, shooting him a reproving look, said, “He's joking.”

At this point Squadron Leader Yamaguchi suddenly smiled. “Anyway,” he said, “Lubang is a very good island. There aren't
many like it anymore. There's always plenty to eat there, Onoda. At least you don't have to worry about that.”

Major Taniguchi's face grew more serious as he said, “Those of us who were trained in secret warfare were prepared to have to go behind enemy lines and command foreign troops. You must consider it an honor, Onoda, to be able to lead His Majesty's own men.”

“Yes, Sir!” I replied loudly.

He was right. We had indeed been trained to organize and lead foreign troops behind enemy lines. To be put in charge of Japanese soldiers was a privilege. At least they would understand my language.

Major Taniguchi gave me two maps showing Lubang and tried to impress on me the island's strategic importance. “No matter how difficult it may be to carry on your guerrilla campaign,” he said, “you must think a very long time before moving on to another island.”

One of the maps he gave me was on a scale of 500,000: 1. The names on it were written in Japanese, which was a help, but Lubang itself was no bigger than a playing card, and there was almost no information about the terrain. The other map was 25,000: 1 and showed all the reefs around the island, but here again it was difficult to tell much about the lay of the land.

“Drop into squadron headquarters on your way to the port, and I'll give you an aerial map they made when the Lubang airfield was built,” said Major Taniguchi. With that he collected the two men who were going to Mindoro and left the staff room.

After everybody had gone, I went to the division ordnance depot and procured some necessary equipment—dynamite, land mines, hand grenades and so on—which I had loaded on a truck. I also put a camouflage uniform I had received from the squadron on the truck. That night I spread out the two maps on the floor of the nipa house I was in and examined them
by candlelight. Lubang Island was very small. Would it be big enough for guerrilla warfare?

Well, big enough or not, I had my orders and my equipment, and there was nothing to do now but get on with it. I closed my eyes, and once again I heard the division commander's promise: “Whatever happens, we'll come back for you.”

I said aloud to myself, “I will fight till that day comes.”

On December 30, I received five thousand yen in military currency from Major Takahashi to cover special expenses and then departed from division headquarters. On the truck with me were a sergeant named Suzuki and six of his men, who were going to Lubang to bring back aviation fuel left there. The airplanes had already withdrawn to Luzon, but the fuel and bombs, as well as some of the personnel, were still on Lubang.

When I went to squadron headquarters in Manila, Major Taniguchi had gone to see Yamamoto and the others off, and no one was sure when he would be back. Someone went through the major's desk for me, but could not find the aerial map I had hoped to obtain. I was disappointed, but I decided that after I reached Lubang, I could simply reconnoiter the whole place with my own eyes.

By the side of Banzai Bridge, which they told me was named by General Masaharu Homma, Commander of the Fourteenth Area Army, I found a native motor-sail vessel waiting for me. It was named, in Japanese style,
Seifuku
Maru and must have weighed about fifty tons. The captain, who was about forty, looked over the side and shouted, “Go on and load all your stuff on the boat.”

I told him that my cargo consisted of explosives, which he had the right to refuse if he wanted to. Major Takahashi had told me that if he did refuse, a military diesel vessel would be sent to take them.

“I don't mind the explosives,” called the captain, “but you'll have to get a permit from Port Headquarters.”

I set off to procure the permit, and as I was doing so, the lieutenant in charge asked, “Are you going to leave the explosives on Lubang and come back on the boat?”

“I am not coming back,” I answered. “I'm going to Lubang to use the explosives.”

The lieutenant stared at me for a moment and said, “Sorry to hear that. Have a beer with me as a farewell drink.”

He offered me a bottle of San Miguel, but I thanked him and told him I did not drink. This was not quite true, but I was in a hurry.

“Too bad,” he said. “Anyway, I wish you the best of luck.”

His genial manner had a calming effect on me. I felt a little ashamed of myself for not accepting his hospitality.

Back at Banzai Bridge, the cargo had already been transferred from the truck to the ship. It had rained, then stopped for a while, and now it was starting again. I sat down cross-legged under a shelter on the deck of the ship with the other soldiers, and we ate the dinner that the crew had prepared for us.

The captain told me that there had been a fair number of private motor-sail craft in Manila doing transport work for the army, but when the enemy landed in Mindoro, they all moved up to Lingayen Gulf. “Mine is the only one left,” he said.

I asked why he had not run away with the rest, and he replied, “I need the money. Actually, the way prices are climbing, I can't even get by on the money I receive from the army. That's why I make trips to Lubang. The islanders raise a lot of cows, and every time I go I bring back some to sell in Manila. Division headquarters gave me permission.”

He said he had contracted to make five trips to Lubang and this was the third. I recalled a conversation I had had with Lieutenant Yamaguchi.

“The other day,” he had said, “when I went to Manila to pick up gasoline, I saw a boat coming from Lubang. There were lots of cows lying on the deck with their legs tied up. You shouldn't have any food problem on Lubang.”

That night at nine the
Seifuku
Maru left the harbor at Manila. At first we sailed due west. Although the sea was smooth, it was still raining, and the harbor was pitch-dark.

At one in the morning, we passed the island of Corregidor, in the mouth of the bay. Instead of following the shoreline, we continued to sail west, because enemy torpedo boats were always popping in and out of the offshore waters. It was completely dark; the only sound was the engine. We were moving at a speed of about nine knots. I stood by the captain in the tiny steering compartment and peered out into the darkness. At any moment, an enemy boat might loom up by our side. Indeed, there might at that very instant be a boat out there aiming its guns at us. With all those explosives on board, one hit would have sent us sky high in small bits. I cannot say, however, that I was particularly disturbed. If it was going to happen, it would happen. There was nothing I could do about it.

“If I get killed,” I thought, “I'll be enshrined as a god at Yasukuni Shrine, and people will worship me. That isn't so bad.”

How many more Japanese soldiers must have been telling themselves the same thing!

The captain shifted the rudder sharply, and the boat tilted slightly as we turned due south. “If we go directly south from here,” he said, “we'll land at a harbor called Tilik.”

I nodded without saying anything, but my body tensed. Tilik was the name of the port where I had been ordered to blow up the pier.

The rain stopped around dawn. I had not slept all night. The island of Lubang began to appear over the distant horizon.
Gradually it grew larger, and before long I could make out the individual palm leaves through my binoculars. There were mountains, but it looked as though the highest could not be more than fifteen to eighteen hundred feet high. My first impression of Lubang was that it was going to be difficult terrain for guerrilla warfare.

The
Seifuku
Maru picked up speed and approached the island.

N
O
W
ILL TO
F
IGHT

Lubang is a long narrow island, about six miles from north to south and eighteen miles from east to west. When I arrived there, the military force included the Lubang Garrison (a platoon detached from the Three Hundred Fifty-seventh Independent Regiment) under the command of Second Lieutenant Shigenori Hayakawa; the Airfield Garrison under Second Lieutenant Suehiro; a radar squad under Second Lieutenant Tategami (who like me was born in Wakayama); an air intelligence squad under Second Lieutenant Tanaka; and a navy group but no navy officers. The Lubang Garrison had about fifty men, the Airfield Garrison twenty-four, the radar and air intelligence outfits a total of about seventy, and the navy group seven. In addition, there was an air maintenance crew of about fifty-five under Second Lieutenant Ōsaki, who had already received their orders to withdraw but were still there.

It was still not completely light when the
Seifuku
Maru arrived at the pier in Tilik, but the captain ordered the crew to camouflage the ship with palm leaves. The truck that had brought the aviation fuel to the harbor was standing on the pier. I boarded it, along with the captain of the ship and the sergeant responsible for taking the gasoline back to Luzon, and we set off for the town of Lubang, where Lieutenant Suehiro's garrison was stationed.

The town was toward the west end of the island, and the
airfield was west of the town. As we drove up a road along the shore, dawn turned into daylight.

We found Lieutenant Suehiro, and I asked where Lieutenant Hayakawa and his men were. The lieutenant informed me that after the enemy landing at San Jose, they had moved to Mount Ambulong. I found them at the foot of this mountain, a little more than a mile inland, where they had dug some shallow trenches and built a barracks among the trees. I met Lieutenant Hayakawa in front of the barracks and handed him my orders. When he had read them, he looked at me quizzically and asked, “Didn't they mean ‘boats'?”

“Boats?” I asked back. The lieutenant, who seemed to be a little more than forty, looked puzzled and embarrassed. When I found out why, it was my turn to be flabbergasted.

The code they were using with division headquarters was a very simple one, and there was no word in it for “guerrilla warfare.” In the message telling the garrison that I was coming to direct “guerrilla warfare,” division headquarters had simply used the standard word,
yūgeki-sen
. As it happens, the syllable
sen
means not only “warfare” but in other instances “boats,” and the garrison commander had interpreted the message to mean that I was going to lead them away from the island on something called “guerrilla boats.” They had already prepared ten small native boats in a nearby inlet, with the intention of setting forth five men to a boat.