The Leaders and "Little Boy"

In case you missed it, this past Friday (August 6th) marked the 65 year anniversary of the order by President Harry S. Truman to drop the first atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. I will offer no pretense towards my knowledge of this event. That I even write on this is owed to a documentary on the History International channel, X Day: The Invasion of Japan.

My recollection of this event from schooling is one of cold facts. Time. Date. Location.

What I learned this evening was varied and great. For the U.S. it ranged from graphic details of how hard the Japanese fought, to a willingness to underestimate loss of life for the sake of a battle plan. The other side depicted the arrogance of the Japanese Emperor Hirohito, to the general ignorance of the common Japanese citizen with respect to what their rulers were doing.

(The latter is consistent with what my college German professor told me regarding the actions of the Nazis during WW2. She was a young child during Hitler's control and from her experience there was a lack of awareness as to how the Jews were being treated.)

The European Theater has always been more interesting to me due to my fascination with how Hitler achieved power. However, watching American soldiers speak of their horrors from battling the Japanese peaked my interest in the Pacific campaign. Stories telling of the need to kill prisoners, the smell of the dead rotting in the sun and the overwhelming causalities from Kamikaze pilots laid a foundation for Truman's eventual decision.

For many the question of whether it was needed will forever be debated. The Joint Chiefs of Staff, for the most part, did not want to invade Japan due to the high casualty count. Information they obtained painted Japan as a nation preparing civilians to defend the homeland, further complicating strategy and endangering American soldiers.

The Japanese civilian casualties, which included immediate and eventual death from the bomb, was estimated up to 170,000. The bomb dropped on Nagasaki three days later would kill an estimated 80,000. Had the U.S. invaded, the expectation was that casualties on both sides could have totaled at a minimum 1,000,000 people.

War is not moral. One thing that stood out amongst all the information was the explanation surrounding why they could not take prisoners. Unlike being on a continent, the islands in the Pacific had limited storage and therefore you could not leave the enemy in a protected location. In turn you could not let them go as they would rejoin their troops.

The situation was kill or be killed and watching these old men speak of what had to be done to survive disclosed a duality of joy from surviving against regret for acts they had to perform. It further reminded me just how much easier it is to kill without seeing the face of your enemy.

George Berkin wrote an interesting article about his trip to Hiroshima, Japan during this anniversary some years back. In it he speaks of Japan's seeming unwillingness to acknowledge their level of culpability regarding why these bombs were dropped. An excerpt:

Even now, the museum reflects a continuing attitude of a denial toward Japan’s culpability in starting the war. In his Aug. 6 message last year, posted on the museum’s web site, Hiroshima Mayor Tadatoshi Akiba avoids any mention that Japanese actions may have brought on the bombing of his city.

The mayor’s message this year continues that theme, saying the victims were attacked “without understanding why.” Perhaps those who perished were not aware of the full facts of the war, but today’s survivors (as well as the Japanese public at large) should be.

Japan continues to downplay or ignore its role in starting the war, and its invasions of China, Manchuria, Korea and many other Asian nations. More than 15 million people died as a result of Japanese aggression.

Japanese school textbooks continue to give an inaccurate portrayal of Japanese aggression during the war, including the Rape of Nanking. As a result of the nation’s refusal to deal forthrightly with its wartime actions, Japan’s neighbors remain wary and at odds with that nation.

He goes on to make the point that if 3,000,000 people could have died, the loss of life from the two bombs is justified. A difficult argument for many to swallow, but if the context is that there will be deaths regardless, surely minimizing the number would be the best course.

I think this debate is a distraction and unfortunately, as was noted in the documentary, "There are pictures to show the affect of the bomb on the Japanese. There are no pictures showing all those who survived."

History states that the U.S. dropped leaflets on the cities so their residents were aware something was coming. Still, the dropping of the bomb was itself without warning. Shouldn't the question center around whether sufficient actions were taken to ensure the civilian casualties would be minimized? With the wealth of information available surely I'm not the first to ask this question and I hope to find at least a debate as to the answer.

But even after hearing the stories and the justifications. Even after reading accounts by American and Japanese academics\laymen, I can't help but consider the accountability of the leaders above all other points.

For example, had General Douglas MacArthur gotten his way, the American's would have followed through his plan for a ground attack. The documentary noted that MacArthur's ego played too much of a role, thereby ignoring the potential catastrophic loss of life. On the other side you had the Japanese Emperor. So absorbed with the idea of Japan's power and prominence that he would basically offer his entire nation to die.

From being lead as a child by our parents we move through teachers, employers and even friends. Trust is such an elemental role in life and for anyone who has been in the military you know that trust is an inherent part of being a soldier. Your hope, either tacit or active, is that your leader is able to maintain a "philosopher king" mentality so to save you from unnecessary harm. I do not envy those who had to weigh the loss of life in deciding to drop these bombs. The U.S. soldiers can be grateful MacArthur didn't get his way. Japan was not so fortunate.

Saturday Afternoon - Learning From Jarhead

Josh McTiernan told me to "just write"...so I am.

The world assumes a different tilt when you look for the story behind every second that falls from the clock's face. My son has become a victim of this approach. He politely and patiently sits in the dark brown recliner while I share my thoughts on cause and effect, explaining that decisions we make directly or indirectly represent who we are. This leads into my excitement for his final three years of high school and the new experiences he (we) will encounter. With surgical comic precision he responds:"You do realize you aren't going back to school?".

The day has, thus far, consisted of My Boys, the end of American History X and now Jarhead. I am reminded of how much I enjoy the acting of Peter Saarsgard and Jake Gyllenhaal. Could it be something with the double letter last name connection? What I do know is Jarhead allows me to forgive Gyllenhaal for Prince of Persia.

While we know the hell that is our backyard awaits attention, and therefore the DVR will secure Jarhead for later consumption, there is difficulty moving from entertainment to responsibility. Evan, at least, has moved to the piano. I'd like to think my writing constitutes some form of progress.

Early on in the movie three things grabbed my attention. First, how happy would my wife be if I were as fit as Gyllenhaal? Hell, how happy would I be? Second, Saarsgaard's voice and stare manages to make the least significant dialogue seem fatally critical. Lastly, and more importantly, the significance of scene in which the soldiers depart the airplane after landing in Iraq.

The sequence begins with the soldiers watching a film on base. They are informed some will be shipping out to Iraq. We then see them sitting on a commercial airliner, in comfortable seats, being waited on by attractive flight attendants. As they disembark they pass by the flight attendants who tell them "Goodbye now. Good luck now."

In his book The Horrors We Bless: Rethinking the Just War Theory, Daniel C. Maguire writes:

Adding to the dumbness here is the fact that in the Revolutionary War, the Americans took lessons from the Indians and adopted guerrilla tactics. As one New Englander wrote in 1677: "In our first war with the Indians, God pleased to show us the vanity of our military skill, in managing our arms, after the European mode. Now we are glad to learn the skulking way of war." The "skulking way of war" is precisely what we faced in Iraq and "the vanity of our military skill" is again revealed. We had forgotten the lessons learned in early America.

How are we preparing our children? Too much entertainment permeates our days and the incidents of Saturday afternoon remind me of my guilt: my bloody hands. There are realities we try to mask and situations we hope will take care of themselves. From his comfortable chair my son wants a "good luck" from his father. He doesn't want to hear about battlefields that await him.

Why isn't arrogance listed as one of the top causes of death in America?

I am stupid because of my frustration as he casually dismisses me. That stupidity is compounded in my efforts to make these "lectures" more palatable. What lessons am I learning? With the wealth of information freely available I remain uneducated. With experiences presenting themselves daily I touch with the devil's hands. What I wouldn't give to "piss myself" from a challenging experience.

The lawnmower is now humming, first softly then louder, as Evan pushes it across the tall grass and weeds. I know it isn't his work ethic that has inspired his grooming of the landscape. He needs money for this evening's date.

Now the memory is stronger.

Weekends as a teenager spent in the blazing sun to earn money for prom. I went into it with a single purpose but eventually learned to take pride in my labor. For that I needed the experience, facilitated by a firm push from my parents.

Suddenly I am pushed. My wife, Kerry, asks how much longer Jarhead will be playing. I tell he it is almost over but that I am more focused on writing. She reminds me the day is slipping away from us and we have tasks needing attention. "I just need to get out of this hole." says a character from the television. Perfect timing.

Down PCH - Part 1

We carry with us a burden. Trivial to some, yet for others a guilt that stems from knowing friends and family have wasted money. I am referring to the risk of recommending a movie. Years ago I put my reputation on the line by suggesting Zoolander to any friend who would listen. The backlash from some caused a severe lack of trust in my movie tastes.

The trip to Santa Cruz from San Francisco would go the route of Pacific Coast Highway. Being the only family member who had been out West, I had experienced this route but only in Southern California; from Oceanside to Huntington Beach. There was concern that my touting of the beauty would be lost on my wife and children considering my descriptiveness was not from direct experience. Once again my credibility was at risk.

Our lateness of arriving in Santa Cruz was a direct result of the many stops to photograph and experience this new landscape.

It is surely cliche to speak of the beauty painted by mountains and sea while driving the coast but coming upon Pacifica, CA you are struck by the majesty.


Coming over the hill you are welcomed by a small patch of beach which had a number of residents enjoying the surfers and sand.

My daughter and I took up residence on the wall separating sand from pavement, I coveting the skill of those in the water while she balanced, while my wife and son ventured into the oasis that was Taco Bell. Possibly the most architecturally beautiful Taco Bell I have ever seen, the aesthetics were overwhelmed by the pure function. Even a Florida resident knows how great is one's hunger after a day of physical, or less than physical, beach activities.

There seemed to be a great respect by those who would pass through its doors or address its pick-up window (for those with sandy feet) as both the inside and outside were very presentable. Though not photographed out of respect, on this day you could find a large Quaker family enjoying Bell eats on the deck overlooking the ocean. My son enjoyed his soft taco from a window seat inside.





My daughter would walk to water, experiencing the cold Pacific Ocean. We would talk about the varied cultural and economic backgrounds represented by wetsuit and board. Maybe I had put myself in a specific mood or maybe it was the atmosphere itself which prompted my state...I did not care. I lifted my daughter on my shoulders and allowed all senses to absorb what they may. "Could I live here?", I silently asked. Of those around me, I wondered who did. Leaving sure was hard.