This is a remarkable story of Mr. Louis Zamperini – an American World War II veteran – from his mischievous childhood; to his Olympic-athlete days; to his horrific war experiences; to his debilitating post-traumatic stress; to his acceptance of Christ, through which he was able to forgive those who trespassed against him. 
Of particular interest to me was that he was captured and became a prisoner of war in Japan. I have been on a quest to understand what really happened during WWII from various people who were actually there. As in most cases, part of me was not looking forward to reading this book at all. Yet I knew I had to read it. Why? This book review answers this question, lists random notes that I jotted down, and concludes with an acknowledgment.
Why was part of me NOT looking forward to reading it?
First, I did not cherish the idea of having to re-live terrible memories from my childhood through Mr. Zamperini’s experiences. I do not enjoy being reminded how cruel some humans can be to others. I was born and grew up in post-WWII Japan – and lived with the lingering effects of the war at home until I left the country in 1972 at age 23. Second, I knew that by reading this book, I would once again be reminded how closely I am connected to those who could commit acts of evil – not a pleasant thought at all. These are the primary reasons why I was NOT looking forward to reading it.
Why did I know that I had to read it?
With what little spare time I do have, I have an insatiable appetite to read whatever books that may provide me with historical accounts of what happened before, during, and after the Pacific War. Forcing myself to face the reality of what Japan – the country of my origin – did to its enemies during the war is unpleasant, to say the least. This sense of discomfort, however, is nothing compared to the untold sufferings that Japan had caused its enemies as well as its own people. I’m drawn to finding out the truth – the truth about which most Japanese, today, are probably not aware. Human nature and behavior fascinate me because, throughout history, all social (i.e., relational) tragedies – anything from between two people to among multiple countries – have been caused by humans. For instance, on a large scale, it is as if wars are a necessary evil of human existence. Is it? Should it be? Do we – can we – have a choice? The U.S., for instance, has been involved in wars for most of its recent history since the end of WWII – Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf, Iraq, and Afghanistan. WWII veterans had secured peace and freedom for those of us baby boomers and younger. Peace in homeland USA lasted for several decades – until terrorist threats emerged in recent years. Was peace an anomaly? With these questions in the back of my head, I knew that I had to read it.
Random notes
- I was aware that Mr. Zamperini’s and countless other POWs’ experiences were horrific. What I did not realize was the extent of it. What was described in this book was unimaginable – even to this hardened soul who believed that she grew up seeing the worst. The worst of humanity in its ability to torture and destroy its own kind is simply mind-boggling. Angry, misguided souls are the cancer cells of humanity.
- I learned about Japan’s atrocities – not in school in Japan but in the U.S. – when I began to pay attention to what happened during WWII. Even in the U.S., almost everyone knows about the atrocities committed by Nazi Germany. Yet so little is known about the atrocities committed by Japan’s military. To put things in perspective, the mortality rate of American POWs under Nazi Germany was 1% – or 1,121 out of 93,941. In contrast, under Japan’s military control, it was 40% – or 11,107 out of 27,465.
- Time and time again, I was amazed and grateful for the way the author and Mr. Zamperini chose to depict what had happened to him in Japan. Most notable of which was that, despite Mr. Zamperini’s horrific experiences by the hands of his tormentor, Mutsuhiro Watanabe (aka the Bird), they made it a point to not lump together the entire population of Japan as evil. The author even chose to present the tragedy of war for the Japanese side as well. For instance, she mentions, “For every Allied soldier killed, four were captured; for every 120 Japanese soldiers killed, one was captured.” To put it in a comparable term, for every 120 Allied soldier killed, 480 were captured; for every 120 Japanese soldier killed, only 1 was captured. In other words, an apples-to-apples comparison of the capture rate was 480 (Allied soldiers) to 1 (Japanese soldier). The difference in numbers is a direct reflection of the stark contrast between the Western and Japanese cultures. The Western culture (as I have been experiencing in the United States) is based on Judeo-Christian values; i.e., a culture of love, compassion, and justice. The Japanese culture, on the other hand, is based on the teachings of a combination of Buddhism, Shintoism, and Confucianism; i.e., a culture of honor, duty, and shame. In other words, every Japanese soldier was being inculcated that to surrender and/or to be captured by the enemy would bring shame to his family. Therefore, when faced with a choice that had to be made in the battleground, the majority of the soldiers chose to commit suicide in the name of the Emperor. Not so incidentally, the strong sense of “not bringing shame to one’s family” also explains why crimes and lawsuits are extremely rare in Japan.
- It was quite telling that the two Japanese translators, “who did so much more than mere translation” for the author, did not want to be identified by name “because the war remains a highly controversial issue in Japan.” In the U.S., there is a culture of not being ashamed of the past for which one personally had no control. In contrast, the Japanese culture is such that most people would rather avoid confronting such controversial issues completely. After all, the Toshogu Shrine in Nikko, Japan, is where you see the wooden carvings of the three monkeys who hear no evil, speak no evil, and see no evil. Silence is considered golden. Indeed, culturally, people (the Japanese society) can be downright cruel to those who dare seek and speak the truth.
Courtesy: Nikko Tourist Association
Acknowledgment
I acknowledge that I feel at liberty to talk about the reality of the Japanese culture bluntly because I have chosen to become an outsider to the country of my origin. Suppressing the truth through intimidation is a form of bullying. This also means that most people in Japan live their lives either unaware of or in denial of the ugly truths of what had happened during WWII. Had I not left Japan to learn the value of other cultures, however, I, too, would probably not be questioning the way things remain in Japan at all.
As I was growing up in Japan, I often heard the term, “shima-guni konjo,” or the island-country mentality. Essentially, it boils down to the sense that its people deserve to be left alone in their own islands from the rest of the world. By the same token, many others within Japan recognize that their country must become more open as a productive member of the world society. It is interesting how, several decades later, I still hear the same dilemma being debated in Japan. Based on its vast history and experiences, Japan has so much to offer to the rest of the world. If Japan truly wants to become a valuable member of the world community, it behooves her to start seeing its past as the rest of the world sees it. That would be a healthy start. It would be interesting to see how this true story of Mr. Zamperini will be received in Japan – particularly when the movie version (directed by Angelina Jolie) becomes available in December 2014.
