80th Anniversary of VJ Day Next Month: It’s Important

To the Editor,

Next month will mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II in the Pacific, VJ day, having celebrated the 80th VE day last May. There doesn’t appear to be much interest in these events, as curiosity in World War II may be waning.
Nevertheless, August always brings back memories of all the stories my mother and sisters told me when I was a youngster. And here is one of them:
One of the more fascinating stories my mother told us from her years in Java prior to and during the war concerned a Japanese photographer, who came to Java in the early 30’s and established a photography studio and shop in a neighboring town. He lived a very simple life, married a native Javanese woman, and, not owning an automobile, travelled everywhere by bicycle. He took all our family photos from 1934 until late 1940, during which time a very cordial friendship developed between my mother and the photographer. She always sent a car and driver to pick him up, and would often invite him to stay for tea. She learned a lot about his early life. He had grown up in northern Japan, where his father was a government administrator. In his early twenties, he spent several years in Hawaii, where he learned to speak English, and where he studied photography.
Somewhere around the Fall of 1941, the photographer left Java, and no one knew where he had gone, not even his Javanese wife. It was speculated he may have returned to Japan, in light of the rumblings of war that were circulating all around the Far East during that time. After the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the Philippines were attacked the next day, culminating with the invasion of Java in March 1942, and the surrender of Dutch forces. Soon Japanese soldiers were patrolling our streets, and this is when the fascinating story occurred. One day a Japanese enlisted soldier, accompanied by a young Javanese boy, knocked on the door of our home. The soldier spoke good English, and informed my mother Colonel -- the photographer’s name -- sent his regards, and that he would do all he could to make my mother’s and her children’s lives as comfortable as possible, but for the sake of decorum, would not be able to meet her in person. My mother was stunned, and momentarily speechless. The kind, gentle photographer, now a full Colonel in the Japanese army, had been living in Java all these years, right under the nose of the Dutch military, spying for the Japanese army, imbedding himself in the community as a harmless photographer. What better cover for a spy than to be a photographer! A week or so later, we got word, again from the same Japanese soldier, that we were going to be picked up in two days, and to prepare to be gone for a long time. We were lucky, in that most Dutch families did not receive that kind of advanced notice, with Japanese soldiers appearing unannounced at one’s home with an open truck and giving the civilians an hour to collect their belongings.
I’ve written extensively and given several talks about what happened in the years that followed, but this particular story about the photographer has always intrigued me, and shows how long the Japanese military planned their conquest of Southeast Asia.
Peter G Eschauzier
Manchester-by-the-Sea