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Campaign Diary (Posthumous Manuscript)Author:Yamanaka Sadao← Back
Last Will
As an Army infantry corporal, this constitutes a man’s ultimate fulfillment; I leave no further words.
○ As a member of the Japan Film Directors Association: A word.
“*Humanity and Paper Balloons* being Yamanaka Sadao’s posthumous work feels a bit bleak.”
This is no sour grapes.
○ The insurance money is to be handed over in full to Mr. Inoue Kintarō.
○ I feel apologetic for imposing endless trouble on Mr. Inoue.
Please pay all my various debts (from those at P.C.L.).
It probably won’t be enough.
Please have that part skillfully smoothed over.
If there happens to be any surplus, please divide it between the Association and Zenshinza.
Finally, a word to my senior colleagues and friends:
Please craft excellent films.
Concluded.
April 18, Showa 13 (1938)
Yamanaka Sadao
Campaign Diary
×・28――
I received what Mr. Ozu called a "Yasukuni Shrine gate pass."
A koban-shaped brass piece was engraved with Ho×, Ho× Auxiliary, and No. 61.
×・30
The departure scheduled for the 2nd was postponed by four or five days.
If they set our departure for the seventh of the month, well, what could I say?
Rain fell in torrents.
×・5
At last, the “departure on the 7th” of × month was decided.
It was reported they would stay overnight at ×× and board the ship on the 8th.
MEMO: For the set, use Hanazono Station as the background and model the foreground lodging after Tamaya in front of Inari Station; alternatively, a merchant house near the station (studying their trade) would also suffice.
“Ma went and asked the temple priest to write my posthumous Buddhist name on the back of this photo like this...”
Effect
Banzai cheers; the train’s blare.
○―― Risk of becoming slightly harsh; permissible to halt.
Morning came. His mother visited.
A tale of village pride.
A story about hemorrhoids.
Son Kusaru.
◎Last: Letters from the Battlefield――
Bozesto’s hand and the hand of the man I killed—reconsidering them.
×・7
At last came the departure on the seventh.
I saw a woman with a child on her back and obi removed hurrying past soldiers.
Chaos at the station square.
They arrived at ×× (××× Baggage Station) and marched through × Town.
The complexions of those who had shouted Banzai at Kyoto Station differed from those now shouting Banzai on ××'s streets.
The tragedy of those who shouted; the tragedy of those being shouted at.
It might be a comedy.
Mr. Miyagawa of Zenshinza arrived.
×・8
Morning brought rain.
A torrential downpour fell.
The transport ship ×× Maru departed from Second Pier.
Thirty minutes before boarding.
I met the Zenshinza members.
“Duty officer and soldiers!”
“Aye aye!”
“Bring your meal tickets and come get the provision bags.”
“Hey! Tanaka! Tanaka! Duty officer and soldiers!”
(Not here.)
○ Introduction
They were sleeping at the stern.
“Gather all letters by platoon and bring them to the captain’s quarters. Understood? If you do, sound off!”
Aye aye!
“Hey, if you go out on deck drunk, it’s dangerous!”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t fall into the sea—you’ll get eaten by Kamasugo!”
○ A soldier killing flies with a rubber slingshot.
Month ×, 11th――
An account from Mr. Ōtani of Mitsui & Co.
Soldiers who missed boarding ××.
The chief clerk sent a wireless telegram to Kobe Port Headquarters.
The soldiers arrived and hurried to ○○ by train.
From the transport ship underway, they lowered a rope ladder; soldiers boarded from the motorboat.
They wrote an incident report.
In Shanghai, the commander boarded the ship; the chief clerk made a request.
The commander called the soldiers to the chief clerk’s room.
(Night)
The commander tore up the incident report; the soldiers were moved.
The commander handed the torn incident report to the soldiers and ordered them to throw it into the sea.
He exited the soldiers’ quarters; the lights-out bugle sounded.
The soldiers came back.
The commander scolded the soldiers: “This lateness is a punishable offense.”
Proceed to the ends of the earth; refer as needed.
Month ×, 15th
“My fists are bullets from a gun—a samurai’s mercy.”
Sullen soldiers tied their headbands.
They played a game of tying headbands and clapping hands to the count of one-two-three.
A seasick man lay asleep.
“Ugh… hey.”
“What’s wrong? Get a grip.”
“Grab my backpack—there should be pickled plums wrapped in paper inside.”
“Pickled plums.”
“Got any?”
“Got some.”
“Stick those on my belly button.”
“They say if someone’s prone to seasickness, sticking pickled plums on your belly button makes the rocking no problem at all.”
A scene with such implications would suffice.
We arrived ten nautical miles off Dagu on the evening of the 13th and spent each day eating thinly sliced vegetables and dried gourd strips while living in the horse-stinking hold of the ship.
On the 17th, we finally transferred to a cargo boat and landed at Dagu.
We stepped onto Chinese soil for the first time.
(Shipyards, batteries, and barracks in China that our forces had bombed and occupied two months prior.)
We stayed two nights in Dagu, proceeded by ship to Tanggu, then arrived at Tianjin East Station via freight train.
We set up camp in civilian houses on Nankandaijie in China’s old city district.
The space was so cramped we couldn’t stretch our limbs to sleep.
A gag about mixed-up jackets (would work well for the final scene).
“Got any tobacco?”
“Nah—wait, you! You there!”
They scrambled for tobacco.
“Hey ○○! Whose jacket you wearing?”
“Oh, right. Yeah.”
○ A man was searching for his jacket; someone panicked upon seeing him.
“Hey Brigade Commander! You oughta be celebrating!”
A man referred to as the Brigade Commander
I wrote a letter while listening to Hinpan’s words.
On the 27th, we arrived at Shijiazhuang.
We marched south for three days.
We arrived at XX where the Katagiri Unit was stationed.
The new-turned earth around here was dust-choked and hard to walk through.
We were incorporated into a frontline unit.
No enemy presence was detected.
―――――――――――
Among shogi pawns there were many types - pawns that got sacrificed with a sharp crack against the enemy king's head, pawns that shogi players casually dropped on the lance's file when stuck for moves. Our ○○ Unit's Ohara Platoon was like those edge pawns. Though we had advanced into the North China plains, with the enemy refusing to push their pawns forward, we couldn't hold formation. So we drilled daily, regressing to childhood as we played war games. Whether facing a checking rook or a knight's undergarment strategy, those edge pawns never budged an inch.
―――――――――――
Inside the freight train, night: soldiers were packed like sardines.
An officer arrived at the entrance door.
“I’ll give one word of caution—stragglers are still roaming this entire area.”
“Last night too, the third station from here was attacked and left several wounded.”
“Keep your ammunition at your waists at all times.”
“(Don’t remove your gear) Keep rifles close.”
“Mark this—even if attacked, don’t budge until orders come.”
○ Train whistle
○ Brief depiction
○ LONG shot of a train racing across the moonlit plain.
○ Inside the freight car, a noisy commotion unfolds.
Someone launched into a ballad.
“It’s cold,” someone remarked while putting on a jacket.
“Hey! That’s my jacket!”
“Mine.”
“Yours is…”
○ A soldier recited theatrical lines in benshi-style narration.
“On behalf of the First Konoe Reserve Infantry Regiment, Commander Suchi Genjirō most humbly reports:
We your subjects have long been graced with imperial favor, basking in Your Majesty’s benevolence these many years.
Now that we have humbly received the Imperial Order to Conquer Russia and rejoice at having reached this moment to repay our debt of gratitude, on the 14th all of us eagerly boarded Hitachi Maru.
However since this morning dense fog had enveloped our vicinity rendering course discernment difficult yet before noon as we gazed upon Genkai Sea suddenly there appeared off starboard side silhouette large warship.”
Upon reconnaissance［we found］they were three Russian cruisers—Rossiya，Gromoboi，and Ryurik—and by this time our companion ship Izumi Maru had already been destroyed，while Sado was on the verge of meeting the same fate．
Suddenly, the sound of a machine gun,
Everyone freezes.
Silence.
Soon enough, they broke into a folk ballad.
At the song’s end
A train ran across the wild plain.
Gunshots and a steam whistle.
(F.O.)
“Hey buddy, put your damn helmet on! It’s dangerous out here!”
“What’re you talkin’ about?
“You think I can wear this damn helmet? It’s ridiculous!”
“Bullets ain’t got some rule sayin’ they only hit heads—they’ll strike hands or legs too. Why don’t you strap on some damn iron shin guards instead?”
○ A soldier placed a photo inside his cap.
○ Soldiers wanted to wear headbands.
A twenty-year-old with a shaven head had tattoos.
“Huh, that cap’s weird-looking. Must be A’s.”
“Sergeant, sir—A’s not here. That bastard mixed up his hat. Oh, there it is!”
“You’ll send another photo then.”
They took out tobacco.
They didn’t smoke.
A was being carried away on a stretcher.
“Here come those damn surveillance balloons in the sky again today.”
A column of armored cars.
Marching infantry.
Three minutes early.
About three minutes.
A division could be formed in three minutes.
“Hey comrade—give me a cigarette.”
Whenever they met soldiers from other units, they always said this.
"That guy's gotten used to the smoke."
"He's an adopted child, after all."
*Home Visit to the Family of the Hero Who Fell Like a Flower in Northern China*
"Mr. ○○○○'s stern father, ○左衛門, states gloomily:"
“Cut it out.”
“Fiancée ○○ Speaks Bravely”
“Are you all idiots?”
“That person…”
Sergeant ○○ Corporal speaks again
“He…”
Lately, special dispatches from the front lines.
○ Graffiti on the wall.
Clink, clank.
Gestures and mimicry.
Chinese cuisine.
Skirmishers walk.
The splish-splash of water in canteens.
As foreshadowing.
They shake their canteens and drink water.
A gas lamp labeled “Shijiazhuang” was broken.
○ On the Military Propaganda Unit
Showing the Five-Colored Flag: "Is this your country's flag?" "Yes."
Showing the Blue Sky with a White Sun flag: "This isn't your country's flag, right?" "No, it isn't."
Denouncing Chiang’s misrule…
"Do not fear the Japanese military."
There is no need to flee.
Stay at home.
The people who were plowing the fields.
Continue your work as you are.
The scene of the Propaganda Unit gathering children first and giving them caramels and chocolates before assembling the villagers.
Collaboration works well.
The children went to the girls' evacuation place, holding chocolate.
*Introduction of the Heroine*
The girl devoured the chocolate.
“I hate it! Everyone’s gobbling it up…”
A play like that would work well between siblings.
“Do you understand, *Minpai*?”
The People *Minpai*
A man listened intently to the Propaganda Unit’s lecture and shouted *Minpai*; an old woman leaned against a wall, basking in the sun while puffing away at her tobacco—whether she was listening or not, her wavering eyes filled with an old woman’s hate-filled glare stared at the soldiers from behind a crumbled earthen wall.
Children were getting friendly with the soldiers.
Children who had memorized the "Shiroji Ni Akaku" song followed behind the soldiers while singing as they returned.
From the First Squad came one member on rifle sentry duty.
They maintained vigilance toward this direction.
The shift change would occur in thirty minutes. Dismissed.
Women and children plowed the fields outside the city walls, laying infants on the ground.
Bandits attacked. Women and children fled. Infants cried.
City gate. A woman tried to turn back. They stopped her.
The woman berated the Propaganda Unit.
To the interpreter.
“Hey, what’s that woman saying?”
“……………”
The Propaganda Unit sallied forth to the castle town.
Heroine
She died saving the infant.
A woman peered into a gun port.
Through the gun port she had peered through, a man ran and was cut down.
The woman moved to the next gun port.
(Moving)
Again, through the eye she’d seen through—a man goes, again cut down.
The woman moved to the next gun port.
(Sound of machine gun fire)
A scene where no man emerged.
The woman up. Cut back.
“Ode, you know.”
“What’s this ‘Ode’?”
“In Chinese, they call me Ode.”
“Ah, right.”
“Hey, Private Ode.”
“Private Ode? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the one they call Ode, right?”
“No, Ode refers to me.”
“So you’re Private Ode, ain’t ya?”
“I told you—Ode means *me* in Chinese! You’re the clueless bastard here.”
“What’re you yammerin’ about? It’s *you* who doesn’t get it!”
Elementary school, during class (first Scene approved).
The playground lay empty.
(The janitor seemed restless)
They sang a school song in chorus.
The swing sways faintly.
Shoe Lockers Scene
Corridor.
The school song gradually grew louder.
Second-floor classroom.
Singing children
Blackboard
Teacher playing the organ
The sound of a trumpet and banzai cheers could be heard faintly.
The classroom window and the sky
The children fidgeted, looking around restlessly.
The children begin neglecting the song.
The teacher panics.
Outside, the banzai cheers and trumpets grow louder.
Children, half-standing, etc.
Finally, they swarm toward the window.
Suddenly, the departure order was issued, and they tore off half the chicken’s feathers and discarded them.
The half-plucked bird clucked frantically as it scurried away.
A Chinese old woman basked in the sun, sewing straw crafts while watching the soldiers march past.
The Nii brat waters the military horses.
They held the Five-Colored Flag.
Sky, war flames, black smoke—like evening rain clouds.
Three crows on the barren earth.
Letters
(To Inoue Kintarō)
Even by the morning of the 16th, I still didn't know when we would land.
The weather was clear, but the waves were absurdly high.
Being stuck in the cargo ship’s hold with the horses, the stench had become unbearable.
Now that I’d come this far, I wanted to quickly set foot on Chinese soil and at least take a piss there.
(At ○○)
The landing order just arrived.
(16th night)
(To the Japan Film Directors Association)
Finally, I too joined the “war.”
And through sheer stubborn luck, I’m still here.
Please rest assured.
From the enemy landing at ○○ onward, the North China Detachment has swiftly transformed into the Shanghai Detachment.
This is the homeland of peanuts, Nanjing rice, and bedbugs.
(To Inoue Kintarō)
The month from landing on the Yangtze River bank until entering Nanjing was truly something fierce.
Fortunately—through sheer stubbornness of bad luck—I remain unharmed.
Please rest assured.
When our tobacco ran out, we packed dried mugwort leaves into pipes and smoked them.
It proved quite satisfactory.
The advantage lay in mugwort growing everywhere across southern China—roadsides, mountains, fields.
No matter how much we smoked, it never diminished.
Yet with tobacco—smoke just one rare cigarette and you’d crave another instantly.
No comparison.
But once you’d smoked mugwort, the urge wouldn’t return for ages.
A truly economical system.
The drawback? It lacked tobacco’s flavor.
Stank like hell.
As for alcohol, they provided changjiu. Among changjiu varieties, there was laojiu like that found in Chinese cuisine from mainland Japan, but what they called changjiu made up most of it. This stuff’s like awamori. At first it stank too badly to drink, but I soon got used to downing it without hesitation. When we had alcohol, there’d be one or two koku of it—enough to wash our faces and hands—but when none remained, it vanished completely. Being heavy, we couldn’t haul it around like that. A full canteen was the most we could handle. We recalled licking sugar.
Upon arriving in Nanjing when the canteen opened for a day, I immediately bought five yokan at twenty sen each and wolfed them down in one go—yet still felt ravenous.
In the mornings I’d think of Komagata loach stew; by evening I’d imagine Naruse legs—no, truly, nothing but hunger consumed me now.
The misery!
A letter came from Ozu-chan.
He’s doing well.
I knew nothing about the homeland; I had only heard from a Domei News cameraman about a week earlier that KO won the Waseda-Keio game.
Please tell Naruse to send Suifu tobacco with a pipe and bancha.
I humbly ask this of you.
Please give my regards to everyone.
December 22
I am not sending letters to Narutaki Village.
Please convey my regards to everyone.
(To the Japan Film Directors Association)
Happy New Year, Ozu Yasujirō.
In Nanjing, we met and rejoiced at each other’s safety.
January 12
Through sheer stubbornness of ill fortune，I survive.
Yamanaka Sadao
(To Inoue Kintarō)
The attack on Xuzhou continued into pursuit battles; then, due to floods, we drifted from place to place, finally settling in mid-July.
There, finally after six months, the mail arrived.
At the same time, I entered the field hospital; there was that newsreel some time ago where soldiers crossed a river in nothing but loincloths, remember?
The women's section was all delighted—they really ate that up, according to the day's talk.
How rude!
They'll get their comeuppance.
The cause of my illness was the flood—because I had kept up that state for about a month every day.
The diagnosis was acute enteritis; I developed a slight fever in the evenings.
Six months’ worth of mail was trickling in, but with this stomach of mine, I couldn’t possibly manage care packages or such.
What’s more, lately I didn’t much feel like drinking or eating—even if I were to return home, I’d probably just want to join Shimizu Ani for your soda…….
(Omission)
My body had weakened beyond measure, leaving me timid these days—unsure whether I could still manage the old camaraderie with my band of rogues.
(I wasn’t permitted to detail it, but those six months had given their answer.)
With the hospital likely to move soon, I decided I’d write again once it did.
Please convey my regards to the gentlemen of the association. (July 23)
(To Inoue Kintarō)
It may seem a truly pathetic tale—being hospitalized for diarrhea—but as for me, having done all I could until my body gave out (when admitted, I literally crumpled in a heap before the army doctor), I feel no shame before heaven or earth.
In the end, I think it was the entertainment industry folks' unsanitary daily life that took its toll.
I was... transferred to a field hospital.
……(Omission)…… Since cholera is rampant around here, they say patients at this hospital are rarely sent to places like Jinan or Qingdao.
My condition remained unchanged—the fever had subsided, but the diarrhea was severe, leaving me to subsist on nothing but rice gruel and milk (even a bite of porridge wreaked havoc; this pitiful stomach of mine had truly given up). Still, I fought tooth and nail, so by the time this letter reached you—if it took even a month—I should have discharged myself and caught up with the main unit.
There was no need for your concern.
The main unit appeared to have recently commenced operations.
I supposed they’d probably head to southern China again.
I very much doubted I’d be returning home within this year.
[...] The town called Kaifeng was more impressive than one might imagine; apparently, an influential figure there had given tens of thousands to the captain of the Chinese army to withdraw their forces from the town, so it hadn’t been too badly ravaged.
There was a story about a Chinese restaurant called Ichi-ni in China.
When I was discharged, I planned to go out and gather some stories to tell.
When the fever subsided, I was suddenly ravenously hungry.
I wanted to eat this, I wanted to eat that—it became a frenzied craving.
Next, I proceeded to list a portion of those this-and-that items.
There was no need to rush; I would write again before discharge, so please sent it after you’d read that.
(I’d entrusted the money to Kenbō.) First: Hirano-ya’s taro and burdock root canned food (they said such a thing existed), black grated yam with kombu, flower-shaped dried bonito flakes, portable soup powder, sweet sake starter, Naruse pickles, and hōjicha tea.
Dried pufferfish fins (I wonder if this is okay?). That was all.
Please pack [the items] in tins as much as possible and make the parcel secure.
I’m terribly sorry to keep troubling you like this every time.
Please give my regards to the association’s gentlemen. (August 15)
Also, I forgot to write earlier—could you send me a book? (If you should think of something along the lines of “you might try this,” that would be fine...)
To write just this much required two trips to the latrine while sweating greasy oil; now I shall make my third visit.
Each round takes thirty minutes.
I beg your forgiveness for such unsavory talk.
(To Fujii Shigeshi)
(1) Among shogi pawns there were various kinds: those that struck out with a sharp crack against the enemy king’s head in a sacrificial move, and those that a player casually dropped atop the lance piece when their hand was stymied.
Whether it was a check-rook or a knight’s fundoshi, the edge pawn remained unchanged.
(To Arai Ryohei)
(2) What remained was the pawn.
On October 27th, we were transported by freight train to Shijiazhuang; after three days of marching, the newly turned earth in this area was plagued by dust. At Roy Village, we were incorporated into the frontline unit. The climate did not differ much from the homeland, but the nights turned cold.
(To Inagaki Hiroshi)
(3) (Village headman—convene the village assembly and gather the villagers.) Since rain rarely fell there, the sky stretched crystal clear and beautiful. In the morning, I watched wild geese migrating. They flew off in orderly formation. Even the renowned general Yawata Taro would have found this a landscape where one could rest easy. Thereby, our brave Ōhara Unit should come—
(To Yahiro Fuji)
(4) In preparation for battle, we conducted daily drills.
I too had reverted entirely to a childlike state, throwing myself into “war games.”
Due to the scarcity of rice, we were made to eat potatoes every day.
Three times a day—it was potatoes.
The soldiers kept firing their stinking cannons.
Yesterday’s sake ration was four shō per person—enough to wake a sleeping child
(To Mimura Shintarō)
(5) [We] received enough to stir up a commotion.)
After retreating from Roy Village, we were again scheduled for transport by train from Shijiazhuang.
Some said we were bound for Shanghai; others spread rumors about Qingdao; then just when you thought that was settled, some fool would blurt out, "No—definitely Northern Manchuria."
Would they deploy us at full strength or half? After that came Raishū.
(To Takizawa Eisuke)
The sweltering heat left me utterly drained.
Afterwards I found myself at the ○○ field hospital.
Though my temperature had normalized, my gut remained rebellious - traces of blood still staining my stool.
Forgive this unsavory account.
"In any case, I'm holding up fine and keeping at it," I wrote.
"By the time this letter reaches you, I'll likely have been discharged and be chasing after the main unit.
No need for concern."
"The main unit will be moving soon.
There's talk they're redeploying from Nanjing toward ○○—probably means none of us will make it home this year."
"Tatebō—stick it out! I'll get you that proper photo."
When the war reached its first year, it finally began to feel like the real thing. To speak of one’s impressions of war seemed presumptuous… I became increasingly convinced such things couldn’t truly be said until about a year had passed after the war’s end.
I had been working on a story about the North China Propaganda Unit, but ended up losing confidence in my ability to write the script.
The thoughts I’d had while glaring at the bomb-cracked ceiling of my hospital room through sleepless night after sleepless night—try sharing those with old man Takeyama over drinks sometime.
Mr. Mimoto’s *The Town That Was Attacked*?
If it’s any good, I’d like you to leave it for me.
“Okōchi wanted to play *Kill Me, Sentarō*, but if Mr. Mimoto approves, I’d like to give it a try.”
(For the climax, we’ve got an idea here.)
Given the times, how about we have Okōchi compile biographies of Mr. Saigō or Mr. Nogi into about eight thousand pages?
Upon seeing a newspaper article about Tora-chan performing *Taiju* at the Enbujō theater, I suddenly thought of staging Mitsuhide with Zenshinza.
I even considered running off with Enoken’s Son Goku to film in Manchuria—my thoughts kept scattering.
I wrote down all sorts of things I wanted to eat next.
Wasabi pickles.
Ajinomoto.
Sea urchin.
Grilled eel (canned), rice curry (same as above), red bean jelly (ditto), chestnut sweet paste (ditto), hojicha, cocoa, sugar cubes (I can’t eat this much!) Please securely package the parcel.
I wrote all sorts of trivial things.
I planned to write again before discharge.
Furthermore, as of last April 1st, Corporal Yamanaka was promoted to sergeant, so please keep that in mind.
Please give my regards to everyone.
August 9
Brother Tatebō
As an Army infantry corporal, this constitutes a man’s ultimate fulfillment; I leave no further words.
○ As a member of the Japan Film Directors Association: A word.
“*Humanity and Paper Balloons* being Yamanaka Sadao’s posthumous work feels a bit bleak.”
This is no sour grapes.
○ The insurance money is to be handed over in full to Mr. Inoue Kintarō.
○ I feel apologetic for imposing endless trouble on Mr. Inoue.
Please pay all my various debts (from those at P.C.L.).
It probably won’t be enough.
Please have that part skillfully smoothed over.
If there happens to be any surplus, please divide it between the Association and Zenshinza.
Finally, a word to my senior colleagues and friends:
Please craft excellent films.
Concluded.
April 18, Showa 13 (1938)
Yamanaka Sadao
Campaign Diary
×・28――
I received what Mr. Ozu called a "Yasukuni Shrine gate pass."
A koban-shaped brass piece was engraved with Ho×, Ho× Auxiliary, and No. 61.
×・30
The departure scheduled for the 2nd was postponed by four or five days.
If they set our departure for the seventh of the month, well, what could I say?
Rain fell in torrents.
×・5
At last, the “departure on the 7th” of × month was decided.
It was reported they would stay overnight at ×× and board the ship on the 8th.
MEMO: For the set, use Hanazono Station as the background and model the foreground lodging after Tamaya in front of Inari Station; alternatively, a merchant house near the station (studying their trade) would also suffice.
“Ma went and asked the temple priest to write my posthumous Buddhist name on the back of this photo like this...”
Effect
Banzai cheers; the train’s blare.
○―― Risk of becoming slightly harsh; permissible to halt.
Morning came. His mother visited.
A tale of village pride.
A story about hemorrhoids.
Son Kusaru.
◎Last: Letters from the Battlefield――
Bozesto’s hand and the hand of the man I killed—reconsidering them.
×・7
At last came the departure on the seventh.
I saw a woman with a child on her back and obi removed hurrying past soldiers.
Chaos at the station square.
They arrived at ×× (××× Baggage Station) and marched through × Town.
The complexions of those who had shouted Banzai at Kyoto Station differed from those now shouting Banzai on ××'s streets.
The tragedy of those who shouted; the tragedy of those being shouted at.
It might be a comedy.
Mr. Miyagawa of Zenshinza arrived.
×・8
Morning brought rain.
A torrential downpour fell.
The transport ship ×× Maru departed from Second Pier.
Thirty minutes before boarding.
I met the Zenshinza members.
“Duty officer and soldiers!”
“Aye aye!”
“Bring your meal tickets and come get the provision bags.”
“Hey! Tanaka! Tanaka! Duty officer and soldiers!”
(Not here.)
○ Introduction
They were sleeping at the stern.
“Gather all letters by platoon and bring them to the captain’s quarters. Understood? If you do, sound off!”
Aye aye!
“Hey, if you go out on deck drunk, it’s dangerous!”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t fall into the sea—you’ll get eaten by Kamasugo!”
○ A soldier killing flies with a rubber slingshot.
Month ×, 11th――
An account from Mr. Ōtani of Mitsui & Co.
Soldiers who missed boarding ××.
The chief clerk sent a wireless telegram to Kobe Port Headquarters.
The soldiers arrived and hurried to ○○ by train.
From the transport ship underway, they lowered a rope ladder; soldiers boarded from the motorboat.
They wrote an incident report.
In Shanghai, the commander boarded the ship; the chief clerk made a request.
The commander called the soldiers to the chief clerk’s room.
(Night)
The commander tore up the incident report; the soldiers were moved.
The commander handed the torn incident report to the soldiers and ordered them to throw it into the sea.
He exited the soldiers’ quarters; the lights-out bugle sounded.
The soldiers came back.
The commander scolded the soldiers: “This lateness is a punishable offense.”
Proceed to the ends of the earth; refer as needed.
Month ×, 15th
“My fists are bullets from a gun—a samurai’s mercy.”
Sullen soldiers tied their headbands.
They played a game of tying headbands and clapping hands to the count of one-two-three.
A seasick man lay asleep.
“Ugh… hey.”
“What’s wrong? Get a grip.”
“Grab my backpack—there should be pickled plums wrapped in paper inside.”
“Pickled plums.”
“Got any?”
“Got some.”
“Stick those on my belly button.”
“They say if someone’s prone to seasickness, sticking pickled plums on your belly button makes the rocking no problem at all.”
A scene with such implications would suffice.
We arrived ten nautical miles off Dagu on the evening of the 13th and spent each day eating thinly sliced vegetables and dried gourd strips while living in the horse-stinking hold of the ship.
On the 17th, we finally transferred to a cargo boat and landed at Dagu.
We stepped onto Chinese soil for the first time.
(Shipyards, batteries, and barracks in China that our forces had bombed and occupied two months prior.)
We stayed two nights in Dagu, proceeded by ship to Tanggu, then arrived at Tianjin East Station via freight train.
We set up camp in civilian houses on Nankandaijie in China’s old city district.
The space was so cramped we couldn’t stretch our limbs to sleep.
A gag about mixed-up jackets (would work well for the final scene).
“Got any tobacco?”
“Nah—wait, you! You there!”
They scrambled for tobacco.
“Hey ○○! Whose jacket you wearing?”
“Oh, right. Yeah.”
○ A man was searching for his jacket; someone panicked upon seeing him.
“Hey Brigade Commander! You oughta be celebrating!”
A man referred to as the Brigade Commander
I wrote a letter while listening to Hinpan’s words.
On the 27th, we arrived at Shijiazhuang.
We marched south for three days.
We arrived at XX where the Katagiri Unit was stationed.
The new-turned earth around here was dust-choked and hard to walk through.
We were incorporated into a frontline unit.
No enemy presence was detected.
―――――――――――
Among shogi pawns there were many types - pawns that got sacrificed with a sharp crack against the enemy king's head, pawns that shogi players casually dropped on the lance's file when stuck for moves. Our ○○ Unit's Ohara Platoon was like those edge pawns. Though we had advanced into the North China plains, with the enemy refusing to push their pawns forward, we couldn't hold formation. So we drilled daily, regressing to childhood as we played war games. Whether facing a checking rook or a knight's undergarment strategy, those edge pawns never budged an inch.
―――――――――――
Inside the freight train, night: soldiers were packed like sardines.
An officer arrived at the entrance door.
“I’ll give one word of caution—stragglers are still roaming this entire area.”
“Last night too, the third station from here was attacked and left several wounded.”
“Keep your ammunition at your waists at all times.”
“(Don’t remove your gear) Keep rifles close.”
“Mark this—even if attacked, don’t budge until orders come.”
○ Train whistle
○ Brief depiction
○ LONG shot of a train racing across the moonlit plain.
○ Inside the freight car, a noisy commotion unfolds.
Someone launched into a ballad.
“It’s cold,” someone remarked while putting on a jacket.
“Hey! That’s my jacket!”
“Mine.”
“Yours is…”
○ A soldier recited theatrical lines in benshi-style narration.
“On behalf of the First Konoe Reserve Infantry Regiment, Commander Suchi Genjirō most humbly reports:
We your subjects have long been graced with imperial favor, basking in Your Majesty’s benevolence these many years.
Now that we have humbly received the Imperial Order to Conquer Russia and rejoice at having reached this moment to repay our debt of gratitude, on the 14th all of us eagerly boarded Hitachi Maru.
However since this morning dense fog had enveloped our vicinity rendering course discernment difficult yet before noon as we gazed upon Genkai Sea suddenly there appeared off starboard side silhouette large warship.”
Upon reconnaissance［we found］they were three Russian cruisers—Rossiya，Gromoboi，and Ryurik—and by this time our companion ship Izumi Maru had already been destroyed，while Sado was on the verge of meeting the same fate．
Suddenly, the sound of a machine gun,
Everyone freezes.
Silence.
Soon enough, they broke into a folk ballad.
At the song’s end
A train ran across the wild plain.
Gunshots and a steam whistle.
(F.O.)
“Hey buddy, put your damn helmet on! It’s dangerous out here!”
“What’re you talkin’ about?
“You think I can wear this damn helmet? It’s ridiculous!”
“Bullets ain’t got some rule sayin’ they only hit heads—they’ll strike hands or legs too. Why don’t you strap on some damn iron shin guards instead?”
○ A soldier placed a photo inside his cap.
○ Soldiers wanted to wear headbands.
A twenty-year-old with a shaven head had tattoos.
“Huh, that cap’s weird-looking. Must be A’s.”
“Sergeant, sir—A’s not here. That bastard mixed up his hat. Oh, there it is!”
“You’ll send another photo then.”
They took out tobacco.
They didn’t smoke.
A was being carried away on a stretcher.
“Here come those damn surveillance balloons in the sky again today.”
A column of armored cars.
Marching infantry.
Three minutes early.
About three minutes.
A division could be formed in three minutes.
“Hey comrade—give me a cigarette.”
Whenever they met soldiers from other units, they always said this.
"That guy's gotten used to the smoke."
"He's an adopted child, after all."
*Home Visit to the Family of the Hero Who Fell Like a Flower in Northern China*
"Mr. ○○○○'s stern father, ○左衛門, states gloomily:"
“Cut it out.”
“Fiancée ○○ Speaks Bravely”
“Are you all idiots?”
“That person…”
Sergeant ○○ Corporal speaks again
“He…”
Lately, special dispatches from the front lines.
○ Graffiti on the wall.
Clink, clank.
Gestures and mimicry.
Chinese cuisine.
Skirmishers walk.
The splish-splash of water in canteens.
As foreshadowing.
They shake their canteens and drink water.
A gas lamp labeled “Shijiazhuang” was broken.
○ On the Military Propaganda Unit
Showing the Five-Colored Flag: "Is this your country's flag?" "Yes."
Showing the Blue Sky with a White Sun flag: "This isn't your country's flag, right?" "No, it isn't."
Denouncing Chiang’s misrule…
"Do not fear the Japanese military."
There is no need to flee.
Stay at home.
The people who were plowing the fields.
Continue your work as you are.
The scene of the Propaganda Unit gathering children first and giving them caramels and chocolates before assembling the villagers.
Collaboration works well.
The children went to the girls' evacuation place, holding chocolate.
*Introduction of the Heroine*
The girl devoured the chocolate.
“I hate it! Everyone’s gobbling it up…”
A play like that would work well between siblings.
“Do you understand, *Minpai*?”
The People *Minpai*
A man listened intently to the Propaganda Unit’s lecture and shouted *Minpai*; an old woman leaned against a wall, basking in the sun while puffing away at her tobacco—whether she was listening or not, her wavering eyes filled with an old woman’s hate-filled glare stared at the soldiers from behind a crumbled earthen wall.
Children were getting friendly with the soldiers.
Children who had memorized the "Shiroji Ni Akaku" song followed behind the soldiers while singing as they returned.
From the First Squad came one member on rifle sentry duty.
They maintained vigilance toward this direction.
The shift change would occur in thirty minutes. Dismissed.
Women and children plowed the fields outside the city walls, laying infants on the ground.
Bandits attacked. Women and children fled. Infants cried.
City gate. A woman tried to turn back. They stopped her.
The woman berated the Propaganda Unit.
To the interpreter.
“Hey, what’s that woman saying?”
“……………”
The Propaganda Unit sallied forth to the castle town.
Heroine
She died saving the infant.
A woman peered into a gun port.
Through the gun port she had peered through, a man ran and was cut down.
The woman moved to the next gun port.
(Moving)
Again, through the eye she’d seen through—a man goes, again cut down.
The woman moved to the next gun port.
(Sound of machine gun fire)
A scene where no man emerged.
The woman up. Cut back.
“Ode, you know.”
“What’s this ‘Ode’?”
“In Chinese, they call me Ode.”
“Ah, right.”
“Hey, Private Ode.”
“Private Ode? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the one they call Ode, right?”
“No, Ode refers to me.”
“So you’re Private Ode, ain’t ya?”
“I told you—Ode means *me* in Chinese! You’re the clueless bastard here.”
“What’re you yammerin’ about? It’s *you* who doesn’t get it!”
Elementary school, during class (first Scene approved).
The playground lay empty.
(The janitor seemed restless)
They sang a school song in chorus.
The swing sways faintly.
Shoe Lockers Scene
Corridor.
The school song gradually grew louder.
Second-floor classroom.
Singing children
Blackboard
Teacher playing the organ
The sound of a trumpet and banzai cheers could be heard faintly.
The classroom window and the sky
The children fidgeted, looking around restlessly.
The children begin neglecting the song.
The teacher panics.
Outside, the banzai cheers and trumpets grow louder.
Children, half-standing, etc.
Finally, they swarm toward the window.
Suddenly, the departure order was issued, and they tore off half the chicken’s feathers and discarded them.
The half-plucked bird clucked frantically as it scurried away.
A Chinese old woman basked in the sun, sewing straw crafts while watching the soldiers march past.
The Nii brat waters the military horses.
They held the Five-Colored Flag.
Sky, war flames, black smoke—like evening rain clouds.
Three crows on the barren earth.
Letters
(To Inoue Kintarō)
Even by the morning of the 16th, I still didn't know when we would land.
The weather was clear, but the waves were absurdly high.
Being stuck in the cargo ship’s hold with the horses, the stench had become unbearable.
Now that I’d come this far, I wanted to quickly set foot on Chinese soil and at least take a piss there.
(At ○○)
The landing order just arrived.
(16th night)
(To the Japan Film Directors Association)
Finally, I too joined the “war.”
And through sheer stubborn luck, I’m still here.
Please rest assured.
From the enemy landing at ○○ onward, the North China Detachment has swiftly transformed into the Shanghai Detachment.
This is the homeland of peanuts, Nanjing rice, and bedbugs.
(To Inoue Kintarō)
The month from landing on the Yangtze River bank until entering Nanjing was truly something fierce.
Fortunately—through sheer stubbornness of bad luck—I remain unharmed.
Please rest assured.
When our tobacco ran out, we packed dried mugwort leaves into pipes and smoked them.
It proved quite satisfactory.
The advantage lay in mugwort growing everywhere across southern China—roadsides, mountains, fields.
No matter how much we smoked, it never diminished.
Yet with tobacco—smoke just one rare cigarette and you’d crave another instantly.
No comparison.
But once you’d smoked mugwort, the urge wouldn’t return for ages.
A truly economical system.
The drawback? It lacked tobacco’s flavor.
Stank like hell.
As for alcohol, they provided changjiu. Among changjiu varieties, there was laojiu like that found in Chinese cuisine from mainland Japan, but what they called changjiu made up most of it. This stuff’s like awamori. At first it stank too badly to drink, but I soon got used to downing it without hesitation. When we had alcohol, there’d be one or two koku of it—enough to wash our faces and hands—but when none remained, it vanished completely. Being heavy, we couldn’t haul it around like that. A full canteen was the most we could handle. We recalled licking sugar.
Upon arriving in Nanjing when the canteen opened for a day, I immediately bought five yokan at twenty sen each and wolfed them down in one go—yet still felt ravenous.
In the mornings I’d think of Komagata loach stew; by evening I’d imagine Naruse legs—no, truly, nothing but hunger consumed me now.
The misery!
A letter came from Ozu-chan.
He’s doing well.
I knew nothing about the homeland; I had only heard from a Domei News cameraman about a week earlier that KO won the Waseda-Keio game.
Please tell Naruse to send Suifu tobacco with a pipe and bancha.
I humbly ask this of you.
Please give my regards to everyone.
December 22
I am not sending letters to Narutaki Village.
Please convey my regards to everyone.
(To the Japan Film Directors Association)
Happy New Year, Ozu Yasujirō.
In Nanjing, we met and rejoiced at each other’s safety.
January 12
Through sheer stubbornness of ill fortune，I survive.
Yamanaka Sadao
(To Inoue Kintarō)
The attack on Xuzhou continued into pursuit battles; then, due to floods, we drifted from place to place, finally settling in mid-July.
There, finally after six months, the mail arrived.
At the same time, I entered the field hospital; there was that newsreel some time ago where soldiers crossed a river in nothing but loincloths, remember?
The women's section was all delighted—they really ate that up, according to the day's talk.
How rude!
They'll get their comeuppance.
The cause of my illness was the flood—because I had kept up that state for about a month every day.
The diagnosis was acute enteritis; I developed a slight fever in the evenings.
Six months’ worth of mail was trickling in, but with this stomach of mine, I couldn’t possibly manage care packages or such.
What’s more, lately I didn’t much feel like drinking or eating—even if I were to return home, I’d probably just want to join Shimizu Ani for your soda…….
(Omission)
My body had weakened beyond measure, leaving me timid these days—unsure whether I could still manage the old camaraderie with my band of rogues.
(I wasn’t permitted to detail it, but those six months had given their answer.)
With the hospital likely to move soon, I decided I’d write again once it did.
Please convey my regards to the gentlemen of the association. (July 23)
(To Inoue Kintarō)
It may seem a truly pathetic tale—being hospitalized for diarrhea—but as for me, having done all I could until my body gave out (when admitted, I literally crumpled in a heap before the army doctor), I feel no shame before heaven or earth.
In the end, I think it was the entertainment industry folks' unsanitary daily life that took its toll.
I was... transferred to a field hospital.
……(Omission)…… Since cholera is rampant around here, they say patients at this hospital are rarely sent to places like Jinan or Qingdao.
My condition remained unchanged—the fever had subsided, but the diarrhea was severe, leaving me to subsist on nothing but rice gruel and milk (even a bite of porridge wreaked havoc; this pitiful stomach of mine had truly given up). Still, I fought tooth and nail, so by the time this letter reached you—if it took even a month—I should have discharged myself and caught up with the main unit.
There was no need for your concern.
The main unit appeared to have recently commenced operations.
I supposed they’d probably head to southern China again.
I very much doubted I’d be returning home within this year.
[...] The town called Kaifeng was more impressive than one might imagine; apparently, an influential figure there had given tens of thousands to the captain of the Chinese army to withdraw their forces from the town, so it hadn’t been too badly ravaged.
There was a story about a Chinese restaurant called Ichi-ni in China.
When I was discharged, I planned to go out and gather some stories to tell.
When the fever subsided, I was suddenly ravenously hungry.
I wanted to eat this, I wanted to eat that—it became a frenzied craving.
Next, I proceeded to list a portion of those this-and-that items.
There was no need to rush; I would write again before discharge, so please sent it after you’d read that.
(I’d entrusted the money to Kenbō.) First: Hirano-ya’s taro and burdock root canned food (they said such a thing existed), black grated yam with kombu, flower-shaped dried bonito flakes, portable soup powder, sweet sake starter, Naruse pickles, and hōjicha tea.
Dried pufferfish fins (I wonder if this is okay?). That was all.
Please pack [the items] in tins as much as possible and make the parcel secure.
I’m terribly sorry to keep troubling you like this every time.
Please give my regards to the association’s gentlemen. (August 15)
Also, I forgot to write earlier—could you send me a book? (If you should think of something along the lines of “you might try this,” that would be fine...)
To write just this much required two trips to the latrine while sweating greasy oil; now I shall make my third visit.
Each round takes thirty minutes.
I beg your forgiveness for such unsavory talk.
(To Fujii Shigeshi)
(1) Among shogi pawns there were various kinds: those that struck out with a sharp crack against the enemy king’s head in a sacrificial move, and those that a player casually dropped atop the lance piece when their hand was stymied.
Whether it was a check-rook or a knight’s fundoshi, the edge pawn remained unchanged.
(To Arai Ryohei)
(2) What remained was the pawn.
On October 27th, we were transported by freight train to Shijiazhuang; after three days of marching, the newly turned earth in this area was plagued by dust. At Roy Village, we were incorporated into the frontline unit. The climate did not differ much from the homeland, but the nights turned cold.
(To Inagaki Hiroshi)
(3) (Village headman—convene the village assembly and gather the villagers.) Since rain rarely fell there, the sky stretched crystal clear and beautiful. In the morning, I watched wild geese migrating. They flew off in orderly formation. Even the renowned general Yawata Taro would have found this a landscape where one could rest easy. Thereby, our brave Ōhara Unit should come—
(To Yahiro Fuji)
(4) In preparation for battle, we conducted daily drills.
I too had reverted entirely to a childlike state, throwing myself into “war games.”
Due to the scarcity of rice, we were made to eat potatoes every day.
Three times a day—it was potatoes.
The soldiers kept firing their stinking cannons.
Yesterday’s sake ration was four shō per person—enough to wake a sleeping child
(To Mimura Shintarō)
(5) [We] received enough to stir up a commotion.)
After retreating from Roy Village, we were again scheduled for transport by train from Shijiazhuang.
Some said we were bound for Shanghai; others spread rumors about Qingdao; then just when you thought that was settled, some fool would blurt out, "No—definitely Northern Manchuria."
Would they deploy us at full strength or half? After that came Raishū.
(To Takizawa Eisuke)
The sweltering heat left me utterly drained.
Afterwards I found myself at the ○○ field hospital.
Though my temperature had normalized, my gut remained rebellious - traces of blood still staining my stool.
Forgive this unsavory account.
"In any case, I'm holding up fine and keeping at it," I wrote.
"By the time this letter reaches you, I'll likely have been discharged and be chasing after the main unit.
No need for concern."
"The main unit will be moving soon.
There's talk they're redeploying from Nanjing toward ○○—probably means none of us will make it home this year."
"Tatebō—stick it out! I'll get you that proper photo."
When the war reached its first year, it finally began to feel like the real thing. To speak of one’s impressions of war seemed presumptuous… I became increasingly convinced such things couldn’t truly be said until about a year had passed after the war’s end.
I had been working on a story about the North China Propaganda Unit, but ended up losing confidence in my ability to write the script.
The thoughts I’d had while glaring at the bomb-cracked ceiling of my hospital room through sleepless night after sleepless night—try sharing those with old man Takeyama over drinks sometime.
Mr. Mimoto’s *The Town That Was Attacked*?
If it’s any good, I’d like you to leave it for me.
“Okōchi wanted to play *Kill Me, Sentarō*, but if Mr. Mimoto approves, I’d like to give it a try.”
(For the climax, we’ve got an idea here.)
Given the times, how about we have Okōchi compile biographies of Mr. Saigō or Mr. Nogi into about eight thousand pages?
Upon seeing a newspaper article about Tora-chan performing *Taiju* at the Enbujō theater, I suddenly thought of staging Mitsuhide with Zenshinza.
I even considered running off with Enoken’s Son Goku to film in Manchuria—my thoughts kept scattering.
I wrote down all sorts of things I wanted to eat next.
Wasabi pickles.
Ajinomoto.
Sea urchin.
Grilled eel (canned), rice curry (same as above), red bean jelly (ditto), chestnut sweet paste (ditto), hojicha, cocoa, sugar cubes (I can’t eat this much!) Please securely package the parcel.
I wrote all sorts of trivial things.
I planned to write again before discharge.
Furthermore, as of last April 1st, Corporal Yamanaka was promoted to sergeant, so please keep that in mind.
Please give my regards to everyone.
August 9
Brother Tatebō
Pagetop