The Etajima Museum of Naval History

In the spring of 1992, I was invited for the first time to the graduation ceremony of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF) Officer Candidate School in the city of Etajima, Hiroshima. The school had formerly been the Imperial Japanese Naval Academy,Footnote 1 which was first established in Tsukiji, Tokyo in 1869 and was then moved to Etajima in 1888. Past tradition still shapes the scenery, including the cadet residence hall.Footnote 2 The hall, completed in 1893, was built with red bricks—as the legend goes, brought from the United KingdomFootnote 3—laid one by one.

Very little has changed since the old days. After the ceremony, graduates march in single file to the main pier, the school’s official entrance, from where they take their leave of the campus, standing on the aft decks of tenders and waving their caps toward family, faculty, and other well-wishers seeing them off on the shore. The tenders will carry them to the vessels of the Training SquadronFootnote 4 anchored in Etauchi Bay. They then board the vessels, man the rail, and, when the anchor is aweigh, sail off for an overseas training cruise (Fig. 1.1).

Fig. 1.1
A photo of J M S D F’s newly commissioned officers in a single line departing from the building.

The JMSDF’s newly commissioned officers departing for an overseas training cruise. (Photo credit: JMSDF)

Full size image

Those of us who were invited to the graduation ceremony arrived at the school a day early. We flew aboard the JMSDF’s YS-11 transport aircraft from the JMSDF air base in Atsugi, Kanagawa, to the air base in Iwakuni, Yamaguchi. From there, we transferred to a large tender and headed for Etajima across Hiroshima Bay. Captain Kōichi Furushō, the chief of the public affairs section of the Maritime Staff Office (MSO), looked after us guests for two full days, starting with our hotel stay in Kure, through the send-off of the graduates the next day, and finally, to our return to Atsugi, again by air. An exemplary naval officer, Captain Furushō was attentive, meticulous, hospitable, and genuinely warm. Before and after the ceremony, whenever he had a bit of spare time, he told me about various naval customs and traditions:

Upon being commissioned as an ensign during the graduation ceremony, a graduate is no longer commanded to salute, because ensigns salute on their own when appropriate. … This metal hook under the cap rack was used by the Imperial Naval Academy midshipmen to hang their daggers. … On graduation day, two signal flags are hoisted on the mast in the schoolyard to send messages to the graduates: ‘Well done, everyone’ and ‘Wishing you a safe voyage.’

Captain Furushō’s pride in Navy tradition was evident in his manner of speaking.

After arriving at the school, we the guests visited the Etajima Museum of Naval HistoryFootnote 5 on campus. It is a must-see for anyone visiting Etajima. The museum has been used for the education of Naval Academy midshipmen since the days of the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). It holds many valuable items related to Japan’s naval history, including locks of hair from Admiral of the Fleet Heihachirō Tōgō, Admiral Horatio Nelson, and Admiral of the Fleet Isoroku Yamamoto; personal belongings left by Commander Takeo Hirose;Footnote 6 a copy of a farewell note written by the commanding officer of a sunken submarine, Commander Tsutomu Sakuma;Footnote 7 and farewell notes written by aviators of the Naval Kamikaze Special Attack Unit.Footnote 8 The museum also possesses a copy of the famous telegram that Vice Admiral Minoru Ōta, commander of the Okinawa Special Base Force,Footnote 9 sent to the vice minister of the navy. Recognizing that to continue fighting was futile, Ōta sent the telegram just before he took his own life: “The people of Okinawa fought [exceptionally bravely]. I request that in the future they be given special favor for their deeds.”

While these displays are all fascinating in their own ways, they do not cover much beyond the defeat of Japan in 1945; no objects related to the JMSDF are on display.

“I do think we should display items related to the JMSDF,” said Captain Furushō as he showed us around. “But regrettably, we currently only have displays related to the Imperial Japanese Navy.”

There seem to be a few reasons why the Museum of Naval History currently has no displays on the postwar JMSDF. First, the defeat of Japan in World War II marked the end of the IJN tradition. The IJN, which the modern state of Japan established during the Meiji era and for which it allocated a huge sum of its national budget, ceased to exist in 1945. Although the JMSDF inherited IJN traditions in various forms, these two organizations are not the same. The Museum of Naval History commemorates the Imperial Japanese Navy above all else.

Second, the JMSDF is not recognized as a true navy even to this day. The highly capable JMSDF, with its sophisticated weaponry and equipment, in combination with its well-trained officers and sailors, ranks as one of the world’s leading navies. Legally, however, it is not a navy. The text of Japan’s postwar Constitution explicitly prohibits Japan from maintaining “land, sea and air forces as well as other war potential.”Footnote 10 The JMSDF therefore cannot officially be called a navy. Such is its fate. Under these circumstances, the achievements of the JMSDF may not be suitable for display at the Etajima Museum of Naval History, which is a pantheon of the IJN.

Incidentally, since my visit to the museum, the facilities at other locations where the JMSDF’s history is on display have been expanded and improved gradually. Different exhibitions can be found on each base. For example, items related to vessels are in Sasebo, Nagasaki; naval aviation materials are in Kanoya, Kagoshima; and those related to minesweepers and submarine forces are in Kure, Hiroshima. These displays center around the postwar JMSDF, and are mostly unrelated to the IJN.

The primary reason there are no displays related to the JMSDF in the Museum of Naval History, however, is that the JMSDF has not fought in any battles to prove its strength since its inception after World War II. In any country, a military museum is a place to commemorate the distinguished service of heroes who fought to defend the country. In a corner of Washington, D.C., the National Museum of the US Navy has plenty of displays on their various units and men who rendered distinguished service in each era, including the Vietnam War and the Gulf War. I have never visited any military museums in China, but I am sure there are displays of heroes who fought against Japan. In Vietnam, the displays must be about the heroes of its wars with France and the United States.

The displays are not necessarily about triumphant victories. While Americans still have very complicated feelings about the Vietnam War, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, where the names of all the men who fought and lost their lives in the war are inscribed on a long granite wall, is one of the most emotionally moving of Washington, D.C.’s numerous memorial structures. It’s hard to say whether American soldiers should have fought in that war. But you all fought well, and you did your duty. There are always fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, and wives and children of the fallen silently standing in front of the memorial wall, deeply absorbed in thoughts such as these.

Similarly, a museum at JMSDF Kanoya Air Base in Kagoshima (formerly an IJN air base)—as well as the Chiran Peace Museum, dedicated exclusively to kamikaze pilots, also located in Kagoshima on the site of a former Imperial Army air base across the Kinkō Bay from Kanoya—has on display the portraits and farewell letters of young kamikaze pilots who flew from those bases, never to return. The kamikaze way of warfare was ineffective, relative to the magnitude of sacrifice required. I personally think it was shameful for the senior leadership of the army and navy to force such warfare on young pilots. Nonetheless, the fact that numerous youths, probably knowing the futility of their actions, hurled themselves into enemy warships and aircraft carriers in defense of their homeland, is something that moves every visitor.

If the Museum of Naval History at Etajima is an IJN museum to commemorate naval heroes who fought for the country, then it might be more complicated to have co-located displays about the JMSDF and its personnel—an organization that is neither recognized as a navy nor has fought a war. A future scenario in which JMSDF heroes are displayed alongside Admiral of the Fleet Tōgō or Commander Hirose in the Museum of Naval History would mean that Japan had faced an enemy attack or invasion requiring the JMSDF to fight in actual combat, where some JMSDF officers and sailors rendered distinguished service in battle.

It is doubtless better for the nation were no such situation to arise. Whereas Japan fought a succession of wars in the 50 years after the First Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, the 50 years that followed 1945 were miraculously free of war. It is no guarantee, however, that the next 50 years will be peaceful, too. Very few Japanese, accustomed to the peace that has lasted half a century, give serious thought to the unlikely event that Japan will be involved in a future war. Many seem to believe that they will not face war so long as they firmly refuse to fight. They might be compared to religious cult followers who believe that their faith will spare them from any disease. For such people, even the very commemoration of armed forces personnel might appear to be a dangerous idea that could lead to war.

However, since Japan is an independent country, and its biggest obligation to its people is to guarantee the peace and security of the nation, someone must constantly think about worst-case scenarios and consider the national defense in case of emergency. The Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) is the only organization in Japan that has focused on this after World War II. Although the text of the Constitution of Japan prohibits the maintenance of armed forces and the nation does not appear to acknowledge its armed forces, JSDF personnel have been striving quietly to uphold their mission to guarantee the peace and security of the country for the last 45 years,Footnote 11 steadfastly training in case force must be exercised as a last resort.

The absence of war does not mean that they have been idle. Thanks to the formation of the alliance with the United States, as well as the delicate balance of power in East Asia, the peace and security of postwar Japan have been maintained without invasion from other countries. If the Soviet Union had attempted an invasion of Hokkaido, however, the JSDF would have done everything within their power to stop it. If an enemy were to have attempted an invasion by sea, the JMSDF vessels would have challenged them with a display of dauntless courage. Fortunately for the nation, no such situation has ever arisen. However, we tend to forget that this is the result of how history happened to play out, and that there were people who always trained and prepared for such a contingency.

In the absence of a crisis that would lead to actual military conflict, JSDF personnel carried out their duty by maintaining and improving their defense capabilities. Then, when the time came, they entrusted their successors with that same mission and retired without fanfare, simply saying “Negaimasu (please take over).”

They were, however, not without misgivings over their raison d’être in an era of peace. On the contrary, they had plenty of doubts. JSDF personnel always had a kind of inferiority complex, a former JMSDF admiral once told me. Seeing others who had gone on to pursue successful civilian careers, the JSDF personnel who had been given only poor equipment and had no chance of rendering distinguished service, could not help but feel envious. As a result, they tended to socialize among themselves, rarely opening up to outsiders.

Those who never had the opportunity to fight will never be commemorated as heroes in the Museum of Naval History, and neither will their achievements. Nevertheless, from an outsider’s viewpoint, the achievements of JSDF personnel who neither complained about this nor neglected their training, who prepared for any eventuality and left active service content with the fact that no crisis had arisen, seem to be in no way inferior to the achievements of the prewar military and naval personnel who made their name in battle.

These were my thoughts when I learned that there was no display on the postwar JMSDF in the Museum of Naval History at Etajima.

The Tan-Tan Kai

One winter evening, people start to assemble by twos and threes at a small club in Roppongi, Tokyo. To reach the club, they wind their way through the bustling streets of Roppongi, past the main entrance of the Japan Defense Agency,Footnote 12 and turn left soon afterward. The first person to arrive is, as usual, Kazuomi Uchida, former chief of maritime staff (CMS). Soon after, another former CMS, Teiji Nakamura, appears. These two are never late to any appointment. Always the first to arrive, they wait patiently for the others to show up, sitting ramrod straight. Then, Vice Admiral Kōji Yaita (ret.); Shingyō Yoshikawa, the Buddhist priest of Sensōji Temple; Yoshitaka Sasaki of the Asahi Shimbun, a leading Japanese newspaper; and other regular attendees appear. Five minutes before the appointed time, consultant Hideo Kimura and Rear Admiral Sumihiko Kawamura (ret.) arrive, accompanying the evening’s guest of honor, James E. Auer. This is a friendship gathering held by the friends of US Navy Commander Auer (ret.), a lecturer and director of the Center for US-Japan Studies and Cooperation at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee, whenever he visits Japan. At some point the gatherings came to be called Tan-Tan Kai, punning on the Japanese pronunciation of Auer’s name.Footnote 13

The group sits around the table prepared for them on the club’s second floor and Uchida leads them in a toast. Dinner is served, and the old friends chat happily. They are seeing each other again after a long time. It does not get too boisterous. Kimura and a few others excitedly discuss recent developments in Japan-US relations, with Auer offering his views now and then when asked for his opinion. The gathering itself is restrained, as its name suggests. Uchida and Nakamura simply listen to the exchanges with a smile; though they do not speak much, they appear to enjoy the company of the group. After the food has been eaten, Uchida and Nakamura stand up to say a few words, for which Auer expresses his gratitude. Auer explains his recent activities and the political climate in the United States, and further talks about his son Teiichirō, who is named after the two admirals.Footnote 14 The two old admirals listen as Auer speaks, nodding occasionally. Uchida begins to appear slightly teary-eyed.

The gathering ends amiably. After exchanging farewells, Kimura, Auer, and a few others head out for another round of drinks while the admirals head straight to the subway station for home. “It was a good gathering,” Nakamura simply says in a sonorous voice. “See you next time.” Uchida nods wordlessly. The admirals turn on their heels and fade into the crowd of the bustling street, taking long strides, their backs held straight.

* * *

Anyone interested in national security issues in East Asia will probably have heard of James Auer or have read his articles. He might be remembered as the director for Japanese affairs at the US Department of Defense in the 1980s under the Reagan administration.

Japan and the United States successfully established close cooperation on defense during the final decade of the Cold War. Though economic relations were strained at times, their national security relationship was marked by an unwavering trust. Even in the late 1980s, at the time of the Toshiba-Kongsberg scandalFootnote 15 and the dispute over Japan’s FSX (Fighter Support Experimental) program,Footnote 16 the bilateral relationship never experienced an irreparable rift. It certainly owed much to the leadership of the heads of the government, Yasuhiro Nakasone and Ronald Reagan. However, the close defense cooperation between Japan and the United States had the support and contribution of many experts working behind the scenes in both countries.

As one of those experts, Auer provided much-needed detailed and accurate information on Japanese defense policy and tirelessly advocated for Japan’s importance as an ally to policymakers such as Secretary of Defense Casper W. Weinberger and Assistant Secretary of Defense Richard L. Armitage. It was by no means a small role that Auer played in maintaining and developing the Japan-US alliance. Even after leaving the Department of Defense and moving to Vanderbilt University in 1988, Auer continued to proactively express his opinions on the Japan-US alliance. And it was his Japanese friends, including the members of Tan-Tan Kai, who helped deepen his understanding of Japan and form his trust in the country from the time of his first arrival.

Ensign Auer

Auer came to Japan for the first time in August 1963. He had just graduated the previous June from Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and had been commissioned as an ensign upon graduation. He arrived at the US Air Force’s Yokota Air Base in outer Tokyo to join the minesweeper USS Peacock, homeported at US Fleet Activities Sasebo, a US Navy base on the southern island of Kyushu. It was his first appointment.

Auer was born into a German American Catholic family in Saint Paul, Minnesota and brought up in Milwaukee. When he decided to attend Marquette University, he applied to the Navy’s Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC)Footnote 17 program on his father’s advice. The ROTC program is a unique system of the US armed forces: participants are tasked with performing weekly military drills while enrolled in a 4-year undergraduate program. They are given the same qualifications and treatment upon graduation as the graduates of the service academies. While it is no easy feat to balance military studies and drills in addition to regular university coursework, they are exempted from paying university tuition fees and are paid a modest stipend. In exchange, they have a duty to serve in the military for a certain number of years after graduation. As the tuition fees at many universities in the United States can be quite high, many young people use this program as a way of receiving a higher education.

When I was studying at Georgetown University as a foreign exchange student in the 1970s, I saw a student dressed in a military uniform on campus. Somebody told me that he was an ROTC student. My roommate at the time also happened to be in the ROTC. I remember him going out dressed in his army uniform to attend military drills from time to time. After intensive military training during the summer, he quit the program, saying he was not cut out for the military. He was simply too exhausted to continue. The military drills appeared to be extremely demanding.

It was the naval version of the ROTC program that Auer had applied to. He did not apply for financial reasons, however; his family would have had no problem paying university tuition fees. Auer himself had no boyhood dreams of joining the navy. Rather his father, who had missed an opportunity to apply for the ROTC program in his youth and decided not to attend university, had been enthusiastic about the program. Not wanting to disappoint his father, Auer applied. A priest who was teaching at his high school also recommended it. The Marine major in charge of military drills at Marquette University had left a good impression when Auer had toured the campus.

Upon submission of the application, Auer was successfully selected as a freshman ROTC student. He studied hard at university while training. In the summer, he took part in a training cruise aboard a naval vessel navigating down the St. Lawrence River from Quebec, Canada to New York City. The training was tough, not to mention the hazing and mistreatment. He finished the 4-year curriculum despite coming close to quitting a few times, and he was successfully commissioned as an ensign. He recalls that he did not quit partly because he realized that he did not get seasick during training cruises, no matter how rough the waters became.

By chance, Auer’s first assignment was in Japan. He had no special interest in this island country in the Far East. He had few encounters with Japan before leaving for the country. His childhood impressions consisted only of hearing adults shouting, “The war with Japan is over!” and of the toys stamped “made-in-Japan” that often broke all too easily. Later, when he was in high school, he also saw Japanese artwork, which he thought was beautiful. This is probably the case for many US Navy personnel who end up working in Japan. Although a few come to Japan because they want to, many have no special interest in Japan. They were assigned to Japan instead of to Newport or Hawaii. It was as simple as that.

Auer requested service aboard a minesweeper because one of his instructors had recommended it. “A minesweeper is a small vessel,” the instructor had said. “So, an ensign is given the third position following the commanding officer and the executive officer as soon as he joins the crew. No better opportunity than this exists for a young officer to gain experience as a surface warfare officer.” He thought what the instructor said made sense, and he did want to be a surface warfare officer since he enjoyed serving on vessels during the training cruises. He also requested an overseas assignment because, now that he was in the navy, he wanted to see the world.

In those days, US minesweepers were stationed at only three naval bases: in Long Beach, California; in Charleston, South Carolina; and in Sasebo, Japan. Hence, the only way of getting an overseas assignment on a minesweeper was to go to Sasebo. Of course, not everyone received the assignment they wanted. Auer was growing frustrated: a long time passed without a reply. But his wish was suddenly granted when a vacancy unexpectedly became available on one of nine minesweepers at Fleet Activities Sasebo. His predecessor had apparently requested a transfer due to severe seasickness. If not for this coincidence, Auer might have gone down a completely different path in the Navy, one without any connection to Japan.

Commissioned as an ensign, Auer received 6 weeks of training at the US Naval Communication School in San Diego, California, before flying from Travis Air Force Base to Yokota on a military Boeing 707. He stayed the night at Tachikawa Air Base, located in a suburb of Tokyo. His first sight of Japan was a billboard for pizza next to the air base, probably aimed at US forces personnel. After reporting to US Fleet Activities Yokosuka, he flew from Tachikawa to Itazuke in Fukuoka, Kyushu, and then headed to Sasebo on a US military bus. His arrival was welcomed by heavy rain coming down sideways; there may have been a typhoon at the time. It was already dark, and the rain was reducing visibility, so the bus driver could not find the vessel Ensign Auer was supposed to board. Auer had no choice but to stay the night at the bachelor officer quarters on the base.

The next morning, Saturday, the weather had cleared; Auer climbed up the ladder of USS Peacock moored at the quay. He was about to begin his first duty as a naval officer on this small minesweeper with an overall length of 144 feet (about 40 meters) and a crew of five officers and 30 sailors onboard. The 22-year-old ensign, saluting and standing at attention, nervously reported to a young sailor on watch: “Ensign Auer reporting for duty, sir! Requesting permission to come aboard, sir!” After granting Auer permission to come aboard, the sailor, chuckling, called out to the officer of the watch and reported: “That ensign knows nothing about minesweepers.” No one on this vessel acted in compliance with some Navy regulations at all times, such as saluting a sailor on watch and standing at attention.

Auer thus started his career in the US Navy. He served for 22 months aboard USS Peacock, homeported in Sasebo. After his promotion to lieutenant junior grade, he spent 6 months studying at the Naval Destroyer School in Newport Naval Base, Rhode Island. In May 1966 Auer went to Long Beach, California, where he joined the crew of the Yokosuka-based USS De Haven on its return voyage home, serving as the destroyer’s operations officer. Promoted again to lieutenant, he returned home to the United States in December 1967 to become the commanding officer of a minesweeper. His second tour in Japan lasted approximately 19 months. In short, since entering the Navy, Auer had gained about three and a half years of experience on two separate occasions as a surface warfare officer based in Sasebo and Yokosuka. Still, he had no special interest in Japan.

The United States was becoming more deeply entrenched in the Vietnam War in the 1960s. Both USS Peacock and USS De Haven deployed frequently to the South China Sea, spending little time in their home ports. Once during operations, USS De Haven came under a barrage of heavy machine-gun fire from a North Vietnamese unit when the vessel approached a Vietnamese island. Auer definitely belongs to the Vietnam War generation.

Even when the vessels did return to their home ports, Auer often stayed aboard and took no shore leave. Being single, he gave his shore leave to the married men who wanted to spend as much time ashore with their families as possible, taking the occasional leave himself in Hong Kong or the Philippines instead. Although the US Navy and the JMSDF used the same port, there was not much contact with the JMSDF officers. His only impression of the postwar Japanese navy at the time was how extremely poor its facilities were compared to the US Navy’s.

Thus, Auer’s experiences remained limited throughout his two postings there. Nevertheless, his impression of Japan was not bad. He taught English for a short time at the America-Japan Society in Sasebo and dated one of his students, the daughter of the municipal assembly chairman. In October 1964, USS Peacock docked in Yokosuka for repairs; when the increasingly tense situation in Vietnam forced the Carrier Task Force based in Japan to make an urgent departure, all 200 tickets to the Tokyo Olympic Games allocated to the US Navy were given to the USS Peacock’s 35-member crew. Auer and his colleagues took turns going to Tokyo from Yokosuka to watch various Olympic events. Olympics fever had gripped the entire nation, and foreigners, whether they were naval personnel or athletes, received a warm welcome wherever they went. Auer felt an affinity for the Japanese people.

Most US naval personnel stationed in Yokosuka or Sasebo after World War II also have fond memories of Japan and its people to this day. During my stay in the United States, whenever I met naval officers and petty officers, active or retired, who had been stationed in Japan, they unfailingly recounted their memories to me with nostalgia. The US forces personnel who served in Japan, especially naval personnel, are possibly the most potent Japanophiles, both in terms of variety and numbers.

Auer’s genuine interest in Japan began, ironically, after his return to the United States. Again, this was purely by chance. Relieved of duty on USS De Haven, he came home to take command of USS Parrott, a minesweeper homeported in Charleston, South Carolina. Regarding seniority among commanding officers, USS Parrott was ranked 901st out of 902 vessels belonging to the US Navy at the time; Auer was one of two commanding officers who had graduated from university in 1963 (the other was a graduate of the US Naval Academy). He was the youngest commanding officer in the entire Navy. He was relieved of his command in 1968, however, after President Lyndon Johnson agreed to a drastic cut in the number of naval vessels. Auer had enjoyed life at sea; now he was sad not to be able to continue serving on a ship. He considered quitting the Navy and taking this opportunity to attend graduate school, in order to make a fresh start as a civilian.

Just then the Navy made Auer a tempting offer: it suggested that he study at The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, a graduate school dedicated solely to international affairs, jointly established by Tufts University and Harvard University. The Navy was eager to develop experts from within its own ranks, in part having experienced the disruption of strategy and tactics by civilians—namely Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara and his subordinates in the 1960s. It would select young, capable officers to be educated at prestigious universities; Auer was one of those chosen.

The opportunity was a godsend for Auer, who was hoping to study again. The Navy was going to send him to university for 2 years for free. He could study any subject he wanted. He did not mind the requirement to serve in the Navy again after graduation. Thus, he decided to accept the Navy’s offer to study at The Fletcher School.

In his second year of graduate school, Auer attended an undergraduate course on modern Japanese politics taught by Professor Edwin O. ReischauerFootnote 18 at Harvard University. He wanted to study, a little more systematically, the country where he had spent three and a half years of his life. From this course, Auer gained a comprehensive understanding of the history, society, and politics of Japan for the first time. Impressed by Professor Reischauer’s character, Auer also attended Reischauer’s graduate seminar and asked the professor to oversee the writing of his master’s thesis. Although the Navy did not require Auer to write a thesis on military affairs, he decided–since he was writing one anyway–to choose for his topic the US Navy’s policy toward Japan during the Occupation. During his research at the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C., he came across some startling documents. They were official US Navy records revealing that Japanese minesweepers had been dispatched to take part in actual combat during the Korean War.

The US-led UN forces had been cornered in Busan soon after the start of the war. They managed to recover their position at a stroke with the dramatic Incheon landing led by General of the Army Douglas MacArthur. Following the success, it was decided to conduct another amphibious landing at Wonsan, on the Korean Peninsula’s east coast. But first, this operation required the removal of Soviet mines that North Korea had laid in the harbor. However, the US Navy did not have sufficient minesweeping capabilities at the time. Accordingly, the US Navy requested that Japan dispatch the old Japanese Navy minesweeping units, which had been engaged in minesweeping operations in Japanese waters since the end of World War II and belonged to the Maritime Safety Agency (MSA).

Thus, a total of 1200 former IJN officers and sailors in 46 minesweepers were engaged in minesweeping operations at Wonsan and in other Korean waters between October and December 1950. One minesweeper sank during the operations after hitting a mine, leaving one dead and eight wounded. These were clearly combat operations in foreign waters.

Despite having renounced war and abolished its armed forces in Article 9 of its Constitution, Japan had engaged in combat. This fact, understandably, was kept strictly confidential for a long time. However, Auer learned of it as the records were made public 20 years after the event, in accordance with the US government’s rules regarding the release of classified records. As far as he knew when he discovered these documents, the world at large was unaware of the fact that Japanese vessels had engaged in military activity after World War II.

Auer returned to Boston and completed his master’s thesis with this discovery as its basis. On listening to Auer’s research report, Professor Reischauer was surprised and excited by his findings. He recommended that Auer conduct further research in Japan and write a doctoral dissertation on the formation of the postwar Japanese navy. Auer hesitated because he could not read or speak Japanese. Professor Reischauer encouraged him, saying, “The history of the postwar Japanese navy will be lost unless someone records it in writing now. Someday a Japanese person will write the definitive study of that. But your dissertation could be an interim, stopgap measure.”

And that is how Auer became a historian of the postwar Japanese navy.

Encounter with the JMSDF

In July 1970, soon after his promotion to lieutenant commander, Auer came to Japan for the third time, on this occasion as a PhD student at The Fletcher School. Using his privilege as a servicemember, he took passage aboard a naval transport aircraft to arrive in Atsugi. (This privilege allowed a US servicemember to fly anywhere in the world for free, as long as the military transport aircraft had a vacant seat.)

Auer had little money to spare, so when he arrived in Tokyo, he stayed at the Sannō Hotel in Akasaka. The hotel was used almost exclusively by US armed service personnel and their families. Anyone on official business was able to stay there in a small single room for a dollar a day, a price that was inexpensive even then. A guest had to check out every month, however, for stays exceeding 30 consecutive days were not permitted. In this way, Auer stayed in Japan for 6 months at first, and conducted rigorous research on the history of the postwar Japanese navy.

Auer had no trouble meeting people in Tokyo, because his navy connections in Washington, D.C. wrote many letters of introduction for him. Particularly invaluable was a letter addressed to Admiral Kazuomi Uchida, the chief of maritime staff, written by Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, the chief of naval operations (CNO). The CNO is the highest-ranking commander of the entire US Navy, except for the secretaries of defense and of the navy, who are both civilians. The leaders of the US Navy were kind enough to lend a helping hand to Auer, a mere lieutenant commander. Captain William J. Crowe, Jr., who would serve as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the 1980s, had arranged the preparation of this letter. He was serving at that time as the head of the East Asia Pacific Branch at the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations. But the benevolence that Admiral Zumwalt and Captain Crowe showed Auer was not for his benefit alone. Their goodwill also derived from the close relationship between the US Navy and JMSDF; although their ties before World War II were reasonably good for the time, the two naval organizations had grown closer in the postwar era.

Admiral Zumwalt’s letter had been delivered to the MSO by the defense attaché at the Embassy of the United States in Japan prior to Auer’s arrival in Tokyo. Before Auer could finish unpacking upon arriving at the Sannō Hotel, he was requested to visit the Japan Defense Agency in Roppongi. The CMS would be meeting him in person, he learned. Thus, shortly after arriving in Japan in early July, he passed through the main gate of the Japan Defense Agency, accompanied by a female interpreter, and was ushered into the reception room for the CMS.

Auer discovered that CMS Uchida was not the only one waiting for him. Five flag officers in total welcomed him, including Vice Admiral Suteo Ishida, who was to succeed Uchida as the CMS, and Rear Admiral Kiyonori Kunishima, who had served on a minesweeper dispatched during the Korean War. Lieutenant Commander Auer was taken aback: never had he met so many flag officers at one time. The JMSDF appeared to take CNO Zumwalt’s letter of introduction very seriously. After Auer nervously explained the aim of his research, Admiral Uchida told him:

We are delighted that you came to us to conduct research on the history of the postwar JMSDF. There are some good things about the JMSDF; there are some unfavorable things, as well. I would like you to study both. Then, please tell us the outcome of your research. You can talk to anyone in the JMSDF, as you wish. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you learn of the negative aspects of our organization.

Uchida instructed Rear Admiral Kunishima to look after Auer. He was given space at the JMSDF Command and Staff College in Ichigaya, Tokyo.Footnote 19 Auer then asked Uchida to let him read the minutes of the “Y Committee;”Footnote 20 the committee, which consisted of former IJN flag officers and others, had planned the formation of the postwar JMSDF in strict confidence. His request was duly accepted. However, because no one was allowed to copy or take the documents out of the building, Uchida asked that Auer come to his office to read the minutes. And so, Auer and his interpreter visited the Japan Defense Agency often to turn the pages of the Y Committee minutes in the CMS’s office. Uchida always welcomed them into his office with a smile.

The female interpreter, whom Auer ended up dating throughout his research, later told him she was surprised to discover that Uchida was a true gentleman. Like many Japanese of the postwar generation who were taught that all servicemen are evil, she did not expect that the highest-ranking officer of the JMSDF would be an intelligent, kind human being with a good sense of humor.

About 2 months after Auer started his research, Uchida even quietly offered financial support. “It must be really tough to live in Japan with the cost of living so high. Let me share part of my salary with you. Please don’t hesitate to accept it.” Auer politely declined this offer. Even though he did not have much to spare and had to cut down his living expenses, Auer knew his salary in Japanese yen was almost the same as the CMS’s salary (as of 1970). When Auer asked why he was so kind, Uchida replied, “It’s because your research benefits us, too.”

Many people who had been involved in the formation of the JMSDF were still quite active at the time and willing to talk to Auer at his request. Based on these interviews and written records, he compiled a PhD dissertation entitled, “The Postwar Sea Forces of Maritime Japan, 1945–1971.” The dissertation was translated into Japanese by Sadao Senoo, who had been a member of the minesweeping force dispatched during the Korean War. It was then published by Jiji Tsushinsha (Jiji Press) in 1972 as Yomigaeru nihon kaigun (The rebirth of the Japanese navy). The following year it was published again, in the United States, as The Postwar Rearmament of Japanese Maritime Forces, 1945–71.

The main findings of Auer’s dissertation were as follows. Although the IJN was disbanded after the nation’s defeat, several former IJN officers sought to maintain personnel and preserve institutional knowledge during the Allied occupation, preparing for revival of the navy one day. A number of former IJN officers, enlisted men, and vessels continued to operate as minesweeping units; they took part in the Korean War. When the US government actively began seeking ways to rearm Japan on the outbreak of the Korean War, these former naval personnel proactively pushed for the formation of a new navy instead of passively waiting. The proponents mainly consisted of advocates for cooperation with the United Kingdom and the United States before the war. The JMSDF’s strategy became based on close cooperation with the US Navy, a position that was not a hasty creation of the postwar era; it had held this stance since before World War II rather consistently. And US naval personnel viewed the Japanese wish to revive the Japanese navy favorably and offered help to make it possible.

Nowadays, such a positive take on the JMSDF’s formation is no longer out of place. Even the Social Democratic Party of Japan,Footnote 21 which participated in a coalition government led by its party leader, Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama, recognized the JSDF’s constitutionality. However, the Japanese public’s attitude toward the JSDF was quite negative in the early 1970s. While the left thought that the JSDF was incompatible with Article 9 of the Constitution, and therefore should be abolished as soon as possible, the right considered it unsatisfactory and not a full-fledged military, as it was established for expediency at the outbreak of the Korean War.

In contrast, Auer’s dissertation was the first attempt by an outsider to shed light on the JMSDF’s raison d’être, and it revealed the continuity between the JMSDF and the IJN. It also argued that, from a geopolitical and strategic point of view, the necessity and importance of naval cooperation between Japan and the United States had not changed since the prewar days. Auer’s belief that close, active cooperation between the Japanese and US navies is indispensable for peace and security in the Pacific remains unchanged to this day.

A Thread Connecting the Japanese and US Navies

An invisible thread seems to run through the chain of events beginning with Auer’s discovery of records detailing the dispatch of Japanese minesweepers during the Korean War while he was a graduate student at The Fletcher School, linking to his meeting with CMS Uchida in Japan, and culminating in his recording of the history behind the JMSDF’s formation.

The young US Navy lieutenant commander who had chosen that unusual topic for his PhD dissertation received extraordinary assistance from the naval communities in Japan and the United States. They offered him a considerable amount of information, as though they had found in him an apt storyteller. Their positive reaction appears to reveal a kind of universal, enlightened aspect of a navy organization as an institution as well as the surprisingly close relationship between the Japanese and US navies, once divided by war. Through the course of his research into the Japanese navy’s revival, Auer met many naval people in Japan and the United States. Many of them, in turn, cultivated relationships among themselves through him.

This being the case, by tracing the different circles of people Auer met and befriended, it may be possible to shed light on the postwar Japanese navy or the JMSDF and on the relationship between the JMSDF and the US Navy. It might also be possible to depict the lesser-known people, within and around the navy, who supported postwar Japan-US security relations. This book is an attempt to portray a neglected facet of the history of postwar Japan-US relations, with a focus on naval traditions and culture long shared by Japan and the United States, through Auer, an individual who established a broad network of personal connections, as well as through my own interviews conducted with many of his acquaintances.