The Pocket Diary of Ryoji Uehara's Father, Who Died in a Special Attack in 1945

There is a small pocket diary from 1945. Its owner was Torataro Uehara. He is the father of three brothers who graduated from Keio University and died in the war, featured in the exhibition "Modernity and War for One Family: Yoshiharu, Tatsuo, and Ryoji Uehara and Their Family" (until August 30), currently being held at the Keio History Museum.

This family has preserved everyday items from the early Showa era with extraordinary density. Everything remains, even small things like commuter passes, student IDs, and exam admission slips. Furthermore, they were very diligent writers. There are no fewer than several hundred letters exchanged between the children in Tokyo studying at Keio University and their parents at their family home in Azumino, Nagano Prefecture. Diaries, school notebooks, and even calculation sheets used during exam preparation have been preserved.

Why were they kept? One can only imagine the hearts of the parents who lost three children to the war.

The fact that the density of this family's materials is so high actually makes the gaps stand out more. Although Torataro's diaries remain densely written from the Taisho era, the diary from the end of the war is missing. The second son, Tatsuo, who became a Navy medical officer in 1943, had already died in battle when his submarine sank. The third son, Ryoji, who became an Army pilot, visited his family home for the last time in early April 1945 before his special attack mission, but there is no mention of it in his father's diary. On May 21, Ryoji's belongings arrived from the "Chofu Unit" packed in an "officer's trunk." Then, on the 25th, Ryoji's "personal effects arrived." These were the belongings left behind when Ryoji departed on his special attack mission from Chiran Base on May 11. The wrapping paper for these mailed items also still exists. The diary for this year remains blank after this day. Words disappear from a family that had left such dense traces of their daily lives.

The war ended, and Torataro's diary, which begins again in 1946, starts on New Year's Day with: "Did not go for New Year's greetings. Praying for Yoshiharu's safety." Communication from the eldest son, Yoshiharu, who was in Burma, had been cut off for some time, but reports of repatriates returning from the south one after another were the family's hope. However, on July 16, news arrived that Yoshiharu had died of illness in the war in September of the previous year. "Truly a bolt from the blue." "I can only curse the malice of the god of fate." This family's habit of daily expression quietly conveys the cruel history of the three brothers who died in the war to us 80 years later.

(Takeyuki Tokura, Professor at the Keio University Fukuzawa Memorial Center for Modern Japanese Studies)