I visited the Chiran Peace Museum in Kagoshima.
The first thing that moved me was the wall filled with faces of young men.
Smiles of men around twenty, eyes full of seriousness.
The photos should be simple records, yet they seemed to look back at me and ask unspoken questions.
Chiran Peace Museum
In the video room, people who lived through that time spoke.
They said many who “volunteered” for Kamikaze were under heavy pressure from conscription, and felt it was shameful not to be chosen.
“I cannot bear being left out. I must go no matter what.” Such voices remain.
They did not wish for death, but in that atmosphere they could only accept it.
Mother of Kamikaze
Triangle Barracks
Their letters said “for the country” and “for my family.”
But perhaps these words were not pure choices, but what they were forced to write.
Deep inside, they may have felt fear of being left behind or a desperate wish to face their family with honor.
Hearing these words, I remembered my father’s story.
He was from the war generation, and said many volunteered to step on mines and sacrifice themselves.
Mine clearing machines were very limited compared to today.
So most mines had to be cleared by human bodies.
His comrades said “to die for the country is an honor” and raised their hands one after another.
It sounded like bravado, but it was also true resolve.
I wonder if young people today could do the same.
At the same time, I hope those who lived then would be glad that no one is forced to make such choices today.
Walking through the rooms, I did not hear their voices directly.
Yet I felt that we are living the lives they could not finish, and my chest tightened.
We are tested on what kind of society we build, so their youth and dreams are not wasted.
Chiran is a place to remember the past, and also a place where the future is entrusted to us.
Lasting Peace
