Madam Speaker, on this Memorial Weekend, when we remember the sacrifices of the men and women who fought for our freedom and democracy, I would like to call my colleagues' attention to a powerful essay that appeared in the Japan Times last…
Madam Speaker, on this Memorial Weekend, when we remember the sacrifices of the men and women who fought for our freedom and democracy, I would like to call my colleagues' attention to a powerful essay that appeared in the Japan Times last month. It was written by one of my constituents, Dr. Lester Tenney who is a survivor of the Battle of the Philippines, the Bataan Death March, a ``Hell Ship,'' and a Mitsui coal mine. He recalls that at his first prison camp, the Japanese commandant turned to the American prisoners of war (POWs) and told them that they were ``lower than dogs'' and ``they (the Japanese) would treat us that way for the rest of our lives.'' Then he said, ``We will never be friends with the piggish Americans.''
Yet the Japanese commandant who belittled this brave American was wrong. The United States and Japan have become friends and close allies, a result we welcome. Dr. Tenney's anger has been tempered by the many Japanese people who have welcomed him to Japan. Personal friendships and common goals heal many wounds.
Most important, Dr. Tenney reports an important development in US- Japan relations that cements the trust between our people. This year, the Government of Japan has apologized finally and officially to all former POWs of Japan. The Japanese are also considering including the American POWs in a program for peace, friendship and exchange. I hope that they will follow through with this. It is this spirit of reconciliation and remembrance that makes this American Memorial Day so significant.
The End of the Long March
(By Lester Tenney)
Carlsbad, CA.--Sixty-seven years ago this month, on April
9, 1942, I was surrendered to the Japanese Imperial Army on
the Bataan Peninsula in the Philippines. At my first prison
camp, the Japanese commandant turned to the American
prisoners of war (POWs) and told us that we were ``lower than
dogs'' and ``they (the Japanese) would treat us that way for
the rest of our lives.'' Then he said, ``We will never be
friends with the piggish Americans.''
For a long time I thought he was right. But we have both
changed. This year, I welcomed the Japanese government's
first official apology to the American POWs, 63 years after
our liberation.
If my fellow soldiers or I had known the consequences of
being a POW of the Japanese, we would have fought to the
death. After three long months of jungle fighting against a
better-equipped invasion force, the American and Filipino
troops were starving, sick, exhausted and out of ammunition.
At surrender, we were immediately forced to march 105 km
through the steaming Bataan Peninsula without food, water,
medical treatment or rest. Today, the Bataan Death March is
remembered as one of the worst war crimes of World War II.
I will never forget my buddies who were shot simply for
trying to get a drink of water; crushed by a tank for
stumbling; bayoneted just because they could not take another
step; or forced at gun point to bury alive the sick. I bear a
deep scar where a Japanese officer on horseback brought his
samurai sword down on my shoulder.
Those who survived the Death March faced over three years
of unimaginably brutal imprisonment. Many, like me, were
herded into ``Hell Ships,'' packed shoulder to shoulder
without food or sanitation and shipped to factories, mines
and docks across the Japanese Empire. The survivors were
literally sold to private Japanese companies to work
sustaining wartime production.
I dug coal in a dangerous Mitsui Corporation-owned mine.
Like all POWs, I was overworked, beaten, humiliated and
starved. The damage and suffering we endured from these
companies' employees were comparable to, and sometimes worse
than, that inflicted upon us by the Imperial Japanese
military. Among World War II combat veterans and former POWs,
those who were prisoners of the Japanese have the highest
percentage of post-traumatic stress disorders. To say the
least, we POWs had and still have intense feelings about
Japan.
Yet the Japanese commandant who belittled his American
captives was wrong. The United States and Japan have become
friends and close allies--a result we welcome. My anger has
been tempered by the many Japanese people who have welcomed
me to Japan. Personal friendships and common goals heal many
wounds.
Our unfortunate history came largely to closure in a
personal meeting with the Japanese ambassador to the U.S. and
his wife last November. I was finally able to tell a Japanese
official my story. He heard of my humiliations, saw my scars
and learned of my Japanese friends who have helped me
overcome my POW trauma.
I asked for the ambassador's help in requesting three
things from his government so that justice is achieved for
POWs: (1) an official apology; (2) an appeal to companies to
apologize for their wartime use of POWs; and (3) a
reconciliation project.
In December, the ambassador wrote me with news for which I
have waited decades. His letter said that Japan's government
extends ``a heartfelt apology for our country having caused
tremendous damage and suffering to many people, including
those who have undergone tragic experiences in the Bataan
Peninsula and Corregidor Island in the Philippines.''
This acknowledging gesture was followed in February by a
Cabinet-approved statement to a member of the Diet that
extended the apology to all ``former POWs.'' It is the first
official apology specifically to mention POWs or any
particular group hurt by Imperial Japan.
We POWs accept these long-sought apologies and now ask
Japan to state them for all to hear and understand. I trust
that my two other requests will be fulfilled soon. It has
taken nearly seven decades, but Japan's recognition of its
mistreatment of POWs attains historic justice and brings
fullness to the U.S.-Japan relationship. A future of a
peaceful alliance is what we really wanted in the first
place.