blame them. At this point I had trouble believing it myself.
Akatsu was the weakest of us, both physically and morally. He said he was the son of a shoemaker in the poorer quarters of Tokyo, and I suppose it was unfair to judge him by the side of two healthy farm boys. But without doubt he was a liability for us. When we brushed up against the enemy, he was always the one who fell behind or lost track of the others. I concluded that Kozuka had been right not to want him with us.
Living together the way we were, we had to adjust everything to the capabilities of the weakest. In dividing up the work we tried to take into account each manâs strength, as well as his likes and dislikes. Shimada did most of the hard physical labor, Akatsu took charge of such chores as gathering firewood or bringing water from the nearest brook, and Kozuka and I made tools, stood guard, and planned our overall movements. When someone was in poor physical condition, we tried to lighten his load. We were conscious that we must avoid dissipating our physical strength.
Since I had the highest rank, I was officially the leader, but never once did I try to impose an order arbitrarily. It was all in all a cooperative effort.
I kept a constant eye on the physical condition of the other three. The important point was to maintain balance. It would not do to ask too much of any one man. The other three understood this and helped each other out cheerfully enough when the need arose.
At that time, each man had an infantry rifle, mine a 99 and the other three 38s. We each had two hand grenades andtwo pistols. There were three hundred cartridges for the 99 and nine hundred for the 38s. In addition, we had six hundred Lewis machine gun cartridges, which we later fixed so that they could be used in the 99.
We started with a three-month supply of rice, which we stretched out as long as possible. For a time we ate so little that it was difficult to force ourselves to move from one spot to another. When our own rice was gone, we went and found the rice that had been hidden for other Japanese troops remaining on the island. Before very long, that too was gone. And the islanders came and stole one of the two drums of rice the other forty-one men had left behind when they surrendered.
As soon as the Americans landed, the islanders went over to their side. They often acted as guides for the enemy, and we took great care to steer clear of them. After our number was reduced to four, they considered it safe enough to come in droves to the mountains to cut timber. They carried bolo knives at their side, and one person in the group always had a gun. We were more leery of them than we were of enemy patrols.
Whenever we caught sight of islanders, we hid. If they spotted us, we fired shots to scare them away, then moved our camp to a different spot as quickly as possible, because we knew they would report us.
When we sensed that any of them might be around, we hid in the bushes to avoid being seen, but no matter how cautious we were, they occasionally caught sight of us. When that happened, there was nothing to do but fire without hesitation and then run. Such encounters occurred three or four times during the first year.
When they came to the mountains to work, they brought uncooked rice and cooked it as they needed it, often leaving some in sacks hanging from trees for use on their next trip. These sacks of rice might have been classed as a gift from heavenbut for the trouble involved in stealing them. We could not just walk off with a sack when we found one, because its disappearance was sure to reveal that we were in the vicinity.
Whenever we came across some of this rice, we first tried to ascertain how long it had been there. Since the islanders cooked the rice on the spot, there were always traces of a fire. We could tell from the ashes roughly how long ago the fire had been built. We would also examine the stumps of the trees the islanders had cut. If the
Akatsu was the weakest of us, both physically and morally. He said he was the son of a shoemaker in the poorer quarters of Tokyo, and I suppose it was unfair to judge him by the side of two healthy farm boys. But without doubt he was a liability for us. When we brushed up against the enemy, he was always the one who fell behind or lost track of the others. I concluded that Kozuka had been right not to want him with us.
Living together the way we were, we had to adjust everything to the capabilities of the weakest. In dividing up the work we tried to take into account each manâs strength, as well as his likes and dislikes. Shimada did most of the hard physical labor, Akatsu took charge of such chores as gathering firewood or bringing water from the nearest brook, and Kozuka and I made tools, stood guard, and planned our overall movements. When someone was in poor physical condition, we tried to lighten his load. We were conscious that we must avoid dissipating our physical strength.
Since I had the highest rank, I was officially the leader, but never once did I try to impose an order arbitrarily. It was all in all a cooperative effort.
I kept a constant eye on the physical condition of the other three. The important point was to maintain balance. It would not do to ask too much of any one man. The other three understood this and helped each other out cheerfully enough when the need arose.
At that time, each man had an infantry rifle, mine a 99 and the other three 38s. We each had two hand grenades andtwo pistols. There were three hundred cartridges for the 99 and nine hundred for the 38s. In addition, we had six hundred Lewis machine gun cartridges, which we later fixed so that they could be used in the 99.
We started with a three-month supply of rice, which we stretched out as long as possible. For a time we ate so little that it was difficult to force ourselves to move from one spot to another. When our own rice was gone, we went and found the rice that had been hidden for other Japanese troops remaining on the island. Before very long, that too was gone. And the islanders came and stole one of the two drums of rice the other forty-one men had left behind when they surrendered.
As soon as the Americans landed, the islanders went over to their side. They often acted as guides for the enemy, and we took great care to steer clear of them. After our number was reduced to four, they considered it safe enough to come in droves to the mountains to cut timber. They carried bolo knives at their side, and one person in the group always had a gun. We were more leery of them than we were of enemy patrols.
Whenever we caught sight of islanders, we hid. If they spotted us, we fired shots to scare them away, then moved our camp to a different spot as quickly as possible, because we knew they would report us.
When we sensed that any of them might be around, we hid in the bushes to avoid being seen, but no matter how cautious we were, they occasionally caught sight of us. When that happened, there was nothing to do but fire without hesitation and then run. Such encounters occurred three or four times during the first year.
When they came to the mountains to work, they brought uncooked rice and cooked it as they needed it, often leaving some in sacks hanging from trees for use on their next trip. These sacks of rice might have been classed as a gift from heavenbut for the trouble involved in stealing them. We could not just walk off with a sack when we found one, because its disappearance was sure to reveal that we were in the vicinity.
Whenever we came across some of this rice, we first tried to ascertain how long it had been there. Since the islanders cooked the rice on the spot, there were always traces of a fire. We could tell from the ashes roughly how long ago the fire had been built. We would also examine the stumps of the trees the islanders had cut. If the
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