The Emperor's General Read online

  Kido seemed enormously pleased that I knew this. His face swam in memories. Behind the thick glasses his eyes went far away. “My mother was an imperial princess. Yes! A very beautiful woman. My father, who I must confess to you adopted me, was named Takamasa Kido. He was the son of a samurai who died in the emperor’s service in 1862. This gave us favor in the imperial court. I have taken care of the emperor since he was four. Served him, you understand.”

  “Since he was four, Lord Privy Seal?”

  “Yes,” said Kido. “My father was placed in charge of the Imperial Grandson’s Abode. It was specially erected for Hirohito in the Aoyama-Akasaka compound when the emperor’s first foster father, Admiral Sumiyoshi Kawamura, suddenly died.”

  “He didn’t live with his parents?”

  “Not then. Admiral Kawamura lived very simply in Azabu, a more traditional district several miles away. The emperor was sent to live with him after his first birthday. A very conservative household. It is our tradition that the heir apparent spend much of his childhood in simpler surroundings, away from the throne.”

  In all my years of study I had never heard this. The details of the emperor’s early life were almost completely unknown in the West, even by scholars. Listening to the lord privy seal, I felt my heart race. I sensed that in telling me his own life story, he was deliberately opening up this door for me, perhaps to help sensitize MacArthur.

  “So,” continued Kido, intuitively knowing his story was fascinating me, “I was fifteen when the emperor came to live under our care. He would see his mother once or twice a week. His father, who then was crown prince, would sometimes visit him and take him back to the Akasaka Palace for the night. The rest of the time was with us, under the direction of my father. I was known as his First Big Brother. There were other Big Brothers. We all played with him, looked out for him, helped to teach him. Prince Higashikuni—”

  “The prime minister?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Kido absently. “His uncle, but still a Big Brother. Prince Asaka—”

  The name leaped at me from a war crimes briefing Colonel Genius had provided Willoughby only that afternoon. We were hearing bad things about Prince Asaka. “Asaka. Wasn’t he an army general?”

  “Yes,” said Kido, now becoming more wary. “Another uncle.”

  “He served in China.”

  “Yes. He was a division commander.”

  “At Nanking?”

  “Yes. And other places.” Kido watched me carefully now, seeking to move away from the obvious next question. “And among us also was Prince Konoye.” Kido laughed nostalgically. “Younger than the rest of us, an impudent teenager! We teased him constantly! But older than the emperor. A Fujiwaran prince. Very intelligent and loyal.”

  “Konoye!” I said, unable to restrain my amazement. “He was prime minister when Japan went to war in China!”

  “Yes,” said Kido. “The Fujiwara family has served as the emperor’s Inner Companions for more than two thousand years.”

  “All these—key people—were the emperor’s Big Brothers?”

  “Yes! And a few others.” The lord privy seal seemed almost insulted, unaccustomed to such directness, working to control his emotions. “And is there something unusual about that? We are all members of the imperial family. We grew up together. It was our duty to study our history and to consider the future. We had just defeated Russia! Do you remember the battle for Port Arthur in 1904? There were many discussions about Japan’s role in the world, and the Western colonization of Asia. And it has been our duty to look after the emperor as he governs. You should have some more appetizers, Captain Jay Marsh.”

  Kido fell silent, cutting off my questions and ignoring me as he pretended to sample several kinds of appetizers. His mind was working furiously, churning his eyes and causing his hands to flit about the tabletop. He was on a mission, there was no doubt, probably on his own behalf, though possibly for the emperor himself. And I could tell that he was silently cursing himself for having given me too much, too soon.

  The three geisha reappeared, bringing us miso soup, more tea, and two grey pottery decanters of warm sake. They knelt next to us, smiling and indulgent, and poured us sake in small pottery thimbles. In moments, Kido regained his cheerful demeanor. He and I toasted each other, tossing down the sake as the smiling geisha refilled the thimbles.

  “To your health,” announced Kido.

  “To the future,” I replied once my glass was refilled.

  “To General MacArthur, a man of greatness,” praised Kido.

  “And to the emperor, who has shown continuing wisdom.”

  “I will give you a small lesson,” said Kido after our fourth toast. “Never pour your own sake in Japan. If there are no geisha, pour the sake for your dinner partner, and he will pour yours for you.” He eyed me shrewdly. “You must never look too eager, not about anything, not in Japan. But I think you already knew that?”

  “Lord Privy Seal,” I answered, raising my fifth thimble of sake, “I am deeply honored to receive your precious advice and to have this opportunity to be able to speak so directly with you. And so now I would like to toast you, for having had the courtesy and the thoughtfulness to invite me to this special place tonight.”

  He raised his thimble, looking at me with a careful appreciation, as if he knew I had penetrated the facade of his kindness and was myself proceeding to the next level of our offstage diplomacy. “Yes, yes, and also to you, for having the kindness and courage to come here, where you are surrounded only by Japanese!”

  “That is no concern.” I laughed. “Everywhere I go in Tokyo I am surrounded only by Japanese!”

  The sake was as smooth as warm water and as deadly as a drug. My senses were already dulled from it, and I found myself fighting to keep my concentration. Kido studied me with faintly controlled amusement as he set his thimble down. I was primed for the kill, whatever that would be, and he had decided that his moment had arrived. “They are doing this together, you know. And that is as it should be.”

  “What? Doing what?”

  “The emperor and the General, of course. Implementing the occupation. Ruling the country. Moving into the future.”

  I watched him carefully, for despite our informalities, it was a bold stroke to state those words so bluntly. The war had ended hardly a month before. And they were being uttered by the emperor’s most trusted adviser. “I think you should be careful when you say such things, Lord Privy Seal.”

  He smiled, his face electric as usual but unperturbed. “Oh, please don’t take offense! We know you won the war and we know that General MacArthur holds almighty power. And most of all we know that the world outside Japan is angry, filled with vengeance. So we can do nothing without you. But inside Japan you should understand that you can do very little without us, either, Captain Jay Marsh.”

  “I personally know that General MacArthur appreciates the emperor’s courtesies. But he has absolute power, and he takes this very seriously! You should not consider testing him on it. He would be forced to take dramatic measures in his own defense.”

  Kido spoke calmly. “We know that, and we do not dispute it. And please don’t misunderstand me. I am speaking to you only as a friend.” He giggled softly, waving a hand as if catching himself. “Or maybe it is the sake, no? But this is my personal observation. If the emperor pulls away his support and the people follow him, what will MacArthur do? Bring in a million more soldiers? Who will they attack? Drop another bomb? Where? On whom?”

  I was amazed to hear these words, but Kido obviously felt comfortable enough to lay down a frank and daring marker. The imperial government had spent a month dragging the bait of cooperation. Now, it seemed, they were prepared to set the hook. Kido was telling me that without shared power, the cooperation might disappear. “It’s not the same anymore, Lord Privy Seal. The old ways are gone. He has even told the people himself. I was at the diet when he said it. He admitted he is not a god.”

  “If t
he new ways come, in Japan that does not mean that the old ways are gone. You must understand that. Think about this, Captain Marsh. If they believe the emperor is not a god because he told them so, don’t you think they would again believe he is godlike if he tells them his earlier announcement was made only to spare them more suffering? Did not your Christ accept a human death in order to show that he could rise again?”

  The lines on his face as Kido smiled told me he was somehow playing with me, toying with my intellect as if I were a child. And now he raised his hands again, as if to protest his own words. “That was not fair. I did not mean it! But the emperor is not the same thing as your Western God, anyway. We checked this carefully before the emperor made his speech. It was important that he say exactly the right words.”

  He eyed me as if presenting some sort of evidence. “The imperial court is very fortunate to have an American-born friend, William Merrell Vories. Do you know Vories?”

  “No,” I said. “I can’t place that name.”

  “A very fine man, Vories,” said Kido. “He was born in Kansas, which is very near your Arkansas, is it not? He came to Japan in 1905. He became very rich here. He is famous for selling the ointment Mentholatum. Oh, yes, a very popular product. He married the daughter of Viscount Yanagi Hitotsu and became a Japanese citizen. He is a Christian, the founder of the Omni Brotherhood Christian movement.”

  “Vories. Yes,” I answered, finally remembering. “He asked to see the supreme commander when we were in Yokohama.”

  “Yes,” said Kido, impressed that I both knew and remembered that Vories had approached MacArthur. “The supreme commander was very busy at that time.”

  “Very busy,” I said, nodding in false agreement. For MacArthur’s refusal to meet with Japan’s most eminent native-born American had nothing to do with his schedule. Rather, it was adamant and permanent. The kindest word the General had used was “collaborator.”

  “Yes,” continued Kido. “So we asked Vories why the Americans objected so strongly to the emperor’s godliness. He showed us the Western dictionary definition of ‘God.’ We studied this definition. All of us, and especially the emperor, agreed that he is not that kind of god. His godliness is kami, do you understand? All things Japanese possess kami, even rocks and trees. But the emperor possesses the largest and most powerful share. Our people understand this, and nothing will change it, no matter how he had to belly talk to MacArthur in order to make peace.”

  “Then those Americans who heard of the emperor’s remarks might decide that the emperor lied, Lord Privy Seal.”

  Kido seemed impatient, as if I had not understood. “It has nothing to do with lying.”

  I started to answer him, then I remembered my own long speech to Father Garvey a few weeks before. “You are right. It is only my simple observation.”

  “It is irrelevant anyway,” said Kido. “We lost the war, and we will accept your terms. But what happens tomorrow, and next year, and ten years from now? Nothing the emperor says about a Western god will change his godliness to the Japanese people! They will follow him. I am not trying to argue, Captain Marsh. This is only my observation. But do you really think our people are able to throw away two thousand years of beliefs in one month? Are you willing to take that chance?”

  My head was buzzing, and my very bones felt numb from the sake, but I knew that Kido was throwing down a gauntlet, not only to me but to the General. It had become my responsibility to respond to him.

  “Lord Privy Seal, my only advice to you is that the emperor should never think of publicly confronting General MacArthur. It will gain him nothing. Is he willing to take the chance of losing everything?”

  This answer seemed to bring Kido an immense satisfaction, as if I had somehow closed a loop in his reasoning. “So you see, Captain, it is like I said. We are in this together. Neither side should take that chance. Neither side should speak of losing. What would be the point? We should work together in harmony, that is the Japanese way. You have now embraced us, and we have embraced you. That is the future! We are inseparable, from this moment forward.”

  The beautiful geisha in the blue kimono had returned and knelt next to me, serving me rice, vegetables, and a plate of wood-skewered yakitori. Kido caught my lingering eyes again and smiled with quiet delight. “Yes, you see! Yoshiko can help you understand! It is like that—you and she together. We are intertwined. Wedded to each other.”

  He retreated into silence again as we ate. The food was wonderful and again I marveled at its availability in a city so recently sundered by the bonfires our bombers had left behind. But Lord Kido and the others of the aristocracy had not starved. He was rumored to have kept enough red meat throughout the war to feed not only himself but the pack of guard dogs that roamed the narrow yards of his private villa.

  The thought of him feeding his guard dogs as Tokyo starved shook me from my sake-filled complacency. Gracious as he was, I had no delusions that Kido sought to be my friend.

  “Lord Privy Seal, there is a list of people who might be tried as war criminals. You are on that list.”

  “Yes, I know,” he answered, outwardly unperturbed. “There will be vengeance. They have even confiscated my personal diary—an extremely unthoughtful act, although in the end meaningless, would you not agree? I have done nothing wrong. I began working for peace more than a year ago. And yet I am comfortable in the thought that if it is necessary for the future, I will accept my fate.”

  “The emperor may soon be on it, too.”

  “I told you before, that would be a very bad mistake,” he said. “The emperor and his immediate family must not be shamed.” His face had grown taut, and for the first time I sensed that I had reached the epicenter of our dinner.

  “It is not my decision.”

  “I know that, Captain. But it is as we discussed. Read my diaries, that is fine! Check the records of our meetings! The emperor personally led the peace campaign, from the time Saipan fell, more than a year ago!”

  “Our allies are demanding that he be tried.”

  “We have heard that. And I know of the pressures in your own government. I told you that we understand the need for revenge, Captain Marsh. But I must strongly warn you that the country may revolt if the emperor or his immediate family is put on trial. I am serious! Our people can be very emotional!”

  The almost brazenly defiant look on Kido’s face told me that he was not bluffing. “I cannot speak for General MacArthur, but I believe he is sympathetic to your logic, at least with respect to the emperor.”

  Kido became coy, toying with his food and studying me. “General MacArthur has—very strong feelings about our General Yamashita. I assume he is also on the list.”

  “High on the list. I saw what happened in Manila, Lord Privy Seal. It is my most disgusting memory of the entire war.”

  “Yes,” said Kido, lowering his eyes respectfully for a moment. He had become curiously melodramatic. “At times our army disgraced us, taking things into their own hands.” He offered me a small, conspiratorial smile. “Yamashita was not popular here, you know. We do not like Yamashita. He had bad tendencies.”

  Kido’s comment amazed me, catching me completely off guard. I leaned forward, trying to read his face. “I thought he was the most popular general in Japan?”

  “With the common people. Not at the imperial court.”

  Kido avoided my eyes, squirming on his cushions. His hands worked furiously, playing with his chopsticks. He was giving the impression that he had slipped up and now was trying to concentrate, to measure his response. But it suddenly occurred to me that he was actually making an offer, masked in drunkenness so that it could be quickly negated if I took offense.

  He cleared his throat, searching for just the right words. “After Singapore, Yamashita was very popular. But he had always been too independent, and now the adulation went to his head. He took issue constantly with our war planners. He had spent time with the Germans in 1940, and was a strong suppo
rter of mechanized warfare. Before Pearl Harbor he argued that Japan should not make war on the United States unless we built up our mechanized forces.”

  “Yamashita opposed Pearl Harbor?”

  “Yes,” said Kido. He stared curiously at me, as if it were common knowledge. “He predicted that we would lose. And after the victory at Singapore he said the only chance of winning the war was to invade Australia, quickly, rather than fight in the jungles.”

  “Australia?”

  “Yes,” said Kido, his face drawn with sudden agitation and shame. “Strike suddenly, force a quick negotiated surrender, as in Singapore. The Australian army was scattered all over the world! We did not wish to do this, but many commoners agreed with him. After our army became bogged down in the jungle battles throughout the islands, he became a problem.”

  Kido looked at me as if we shared a common bond in our elite responsibilities. “He himself is a commoner, you know. He had a wide following that was harmful. That is why he was posted to China after Singapore.”

  I was still lost in his logic. “Why?”

  “I told you, Captain. He had become too popular. And he was against the policies of our war planners.” Kido shrugged casually. “The difficulty is not that he opposed the policies, now that they have failed. It was with his arrogance. His—independence. As I said, Yamashita had bad tendencies. He still does. He could be a problem again if he returns to Japan and speaks about how the war was fought.”

  “A problem? For whom?”

  “For everyone.”

  I now knew precisely what he meant, but I wanted him to say it. “I am very sorry, Lord Privy Seal. Perhaps my Japanese is not as proficient as I thought. Could you please explain?”

  Kido watched me carefully for a moment. The offer was on the table, and both he and I understood it: the imperial court had no great stakes in General Yamashita’s situation and no objection to his execution. He was not going to take my own bait by belaboring the obvious. Finally he deflected the question. “I was only attempting to agree with you that General MacArthur is a very wise man. As always, he sees the larger picture! And he should know that the Japanese people deeply regret the atrocities that occurred in Manila under General Yamashita’s command. I am only trying to agree with you, Captain.”