Occupied City

The Eleventh Candle — The Last Words of the Teikoku Murderer, or a Personal History of Japanese Iniquity, Local Suffering & Universal Indifference (1948)

In the fractured, splintered mirror, the child before the man / Before the doctor. Before the killer. Before the dead / The sunlight and the stream, the flowers and the insects / Wings off flies. Legs off frogs. Heads off cats / The skin and the skull, the appearance and the absence / In the fractured, splintered mirror, murder is born

In the Death Factory, at Pingfan, near Harbin, in Manchuria. This place had once been home to villages and farms, to families and fields. The villages had been requisitioned and their inhabitants expelled. Then the Nihon Tokushu Kōgyō Company arrived. The Tokyo-based company hired local Chinese labourers to work day and night for three years to construct the one hundred and fifty buildings which would form the vast complex, the Death Factory.

I can never forget the first time I saw the place. Across a dry moat, beyond the high earth walls and the barbed-wire fences, the square-tiled facades of the central buildings towered, larger than any I had ever seen in Tokyo, reflecting the sunlight and the sky in a brilliant white radiance.

Over the moat, behind the walls and the wires, through the gates and the guards, a whole city, a future city, was waiting for me. There was a runway and a railway, a huge administrative building and an equally large farm, a power house with cooling towers, dormitories for the civilians and barracks for the soldiers, barns and stables, a hospital and a prison and, of course, the laboratories and the furnaces. This was the home of Unit 731, my new home.

The Unit was divided into eight separate divisions; First Division was concerned with bacteriological research; Second Division with warfare research and field experiments; Third Division with water purification; Fourth Division with the mass production and storage of bacteria; the four remaining divisions handled education, supplies, administration and clinical diagnosis.

The Emperor was our owner, Major Ishii was our boss.

On the Black Ship, the Killer sees it stretched out now before him: the Occupied City; its sewers and its streets, its homes and its shops, its schools and its hospitals, its asylums and its prisons. This city is a monstrous place; a Deathtopia of fleas and flies, of rats and men.

On the Black Ship, here in this Deathtopia, no one knows who he is, no one will ever know who he is. Here he will dwell, among the fleas and the flies, among the rats and the men –

The Killer in the Occupied City.

In the twenty-fifth year of the reign of the Emperor Meiji / In a village, in Chiba Prefecture / The fourth son of a rich landowner / In a lavish villa, in a bamboo forest / A tall child, a bright child / In a shaded grotto, before the family graves

In the Death Factory, Major Ishii welcomed the new recruits, his new workers, standing beside an antique vase of white chrysanthemums: ‘Our vocation as doctors is to challenge all varieties of disease-causing micro-organisms, to block all roads of intrusion into the human body, to annihilate all foreign matter resident in our bodies and to devise the most expedient treatment possible. However, the research in which you will now be involved is the complete opposite of these principles and will, naturally, initially, cause you some anguish as doctors. Nevertheless, I beseech you to pursue this research based on what I know will become your two overriding desires; firstly, as scientists to give free rein to your instinct and urge to probe for the truth in natural science, to discover and research the unknown world; secondly, as soldiers to use your discoveries and your research to build a powerful military weapon to use against the enemies of our divine Emperor and our beloved homeland –

‘This is our mission, this is your work.’

On the Black Ship, among the rubble, in the sunlight, the Killer watches a group of children playing beside a crater. The crater is filled with black water, broken bicycles and the debris of a defeated city. The water smokes, the water bubbles. The children toss pieces of wood into the water and then watch them sink.

The Killer remembers a story a colleague once told him in the Death Factory. A unit was sent to the city of Jilin to conduct tests on plague bacteria there. The method involved placing the pathogens into buns and then wrapping the buns in paper. The unit then went into an area of the city where children were playing. The men in the unit began eating buns similar to those in which they had planted the germs. When the local children saw the men eating the buns, they all came running over, asking for the buns. The men then gave the children the infected buns. Three days later, a second unit was sent to the area to record the levels of infection among the children and their families. The area had to be isolated within sheet-metal walls, then everything within the enclosure burnt to the ground.

The Killer looks up from the black water. A man is standing over him, a man he recognizes. A man who has been following him.

The living tend to the graves of the dead / The dead watch over the lives of the living / The lives of the living, divided and dissected / Those whom receive tribute, those that give tribute / Those of substance and those of none, those who matter and those who don’t / The child divides, the child dissects

In the Death Factory, my work now began. There were two types of workers; those who were recruited, recruited for their brains, and those who were conscripted, conscripted for their brawn. I was recruited, recruited for my brain; its knowledge of disease, its knowledge of death. Loyal to the Emperor, subservient to the State, deferential yet intelligent, I was the ideal worker; fervent in my devotion to the Emperor, to Japan and to victory; unfailing and unquestioning in my belief in all three. My work was in the field of hygiene.

On the Black Ship, in a coffee-shop, a man is whispering to the Killer, ‘I hear many of them have got good jobs now, in the prestigious universities or in the Ministry of Health and Welfare. I heard some of them got payments of one or two million yen. It’s unbelievable. Look at us! Look what we’ve got! Barely the clothes on our backs.

‘I think of all I did for them, for Ishii and for the Emperor, and look at me now. I can’t get a job and I can’t sleep, can’t sleep for the memories and for the ghosts.

‘I remember one day, towards the end, a truckload of about forty Russians was brought in. But we already had too many logs, more logs than we could use, and so we had no need for this lot. So we told the Russians that there was an epidemic in the region and that they should all get out of the truck so we could inoculate them. And so, one by one, they jumped down from the truck. They stood in line with their sleeves rolled up. Then I went down the line, one by one.

‘First I rubbed their arms with alcohol, then I injected them with potassium cyanide. Of course, there was no need to rub their arms with alcohol first. I did it purely to put them at their ease. Then, one by one, they all fell to the ground in silence.

‘But I can’t forget the way they looked at me as I rubbed their arms and then injected them. They looked at me with trust in their eyes, with relief and even gratitude.’

The Killer picks up the bill from the table. The Killer gets up from the table. The Killer pays the bill and leaves.

Flowers and insects, animals and people / The child collects and the child catalogues / Flowers then insects, animals then people / The child examines and the child experiments / Those with blood and those without, those with this blood and those with that / The child studies and the child learns

In the Death Factory, hygiene was of the utmost importance. Fear of accidents and outbreaks, infections and contaminations, was all-pervasive. Despite the precautions and procedures taken, there were frequent unintended civilian casualties among the staff and technicians of the Unit. Priority was therefore given to hygiene and to research into better methods of hygiene control.

Initially, my work involved only the examination, treatment and prevention of communicable diseases among army personnel and their families. The examination and treatment section in which I worked was separate from the main complex. Our building was known as the South Wing and we also worked closely with the Army Hospital in Harbin.

At first my work was neither particularly demanding nor dangerous and my biggest fear was of becoming infected myself, particularly with the plague. Often we did not know what was wrong with a patient until it was too late. I remember that once a civilian technician from the Unit was brought in with suspected syphilis. However, the man had the plague and soon succumbed and died. When such a patient was brought in, everyone was careful to avoid getting any cuts. Often we did not shave.

My main work was the examination of blood, urine and faeces samples, testing for and measuring changes in haemoglobin. Often this involved visits to the prison building. Whenever I entered the prison, I had to walk through a tray of disinfectant. The samples I received here had been taken from prisoners, who were also known as logs. I believe they were known as logs because the local population had been told that the Death Factory was involved in the manufacture and production of lumber. The samples were needed in order to determine a subject’s condition prior to any experiment or trial. Further samples were then taken from logs after they had become infected with various viruses. This was how the data from bacteriological tests was compared. Having received the samples in prepared slides, I would then travel back by truck to the South Wing. Often I would have to make this journey two or three times a day. Often I would also be ordered to bring back and forth research papers and human organs. These were my duties, this was my work.

There was no real research into preventative vaccines in our work at the examination and treatment centre. The nearest we came to any such vaccine was the development of an invigorative solution. The base of this solution was garlic and we would give it to patients in order to speed up their recovery. Often I would inject it myself in order to overcome the depression and the fatigue caused by the isolated location and the long hours. I understood why many of the Chinese and the Manchurians were addicted to heroin. It was a temptation to which many surrendered.

On the Black Ship, the Killer writes a letter, To Your Excellency Ishii Shirō, Former Lt. Gen. Army Medical Corps —

Dear Sir,

You must be very surprised to receive this badly scribbled and most rude letter so unexpectedly. But I was one of your subordinates at Pingfan in China and I write this letter, not only on behalf of myself, but on behalf of the many men who dutifully served under you during the war in China.

After the turmoil at the end of the war, we came back to Japan. But the defeated Japan has not been very cordial in welcoming us back. Our homes have been burnt, many of our wives and our children are dead, and the little money we have been given towards our rehabilitation, towards food and shelter, has been consumed by inflation. Because of our hardships, many of us have now been driven to contemplate committing wicked acts in order to simply feed and clothe ourselves.

However, before embarking on such a dark path, I beseeched my former colleagues to wait until I had at least sought the counsel and guidance of you, our thoughtful former commanding officer. Surely, I told my former colleagues, if Lt. Gen. Ishii knew of our plight, he would rescue us, his former loyal subordinates who so faithfully carried out his every order, no matter how gruesome the work, no matter at what cost to our souls.

Of course, because of our current hardships, we all thought of dying as we have retained the means to do so. But then we realized that if you had found the courage to live on, then we certainly should also be able to overcome our present difficulties and accomplish anything with your inspiration and generous assistance.

So please, we beg you, our former commanding officer, that you loan us, the forgotten and unfortunate ones, as funds towards our rehabilitation, the sum of ¥50,000 and which we swear will be returned to you within two months. So please be gracious and kind enough to send the money to the above address.

Of course, we should like to visit you personally but, since we have been so reduced to poverty, we are too embarrassed and so are unable to do so. But please, please help us.

From your former subordinates.

Now the Killer stops writing. The Killer seals the letter in an envelope. The Killer posts the envelope to Mr Ishii Shirō, 77 Wakamastu-chō, Ushigome-ku, Tokyo.

Now the Killer waits.

There are those born with strength and those born with weakness / Those who are healthy and those who are sick / There is order in all matter, there is order in all things / There are structures and there are hierarchies / Those of substance and those of none, those who matter and those that don’t / And there is one who matters more than most, the one who matters most of all

In the Death Factory, in the summer of 1940, I was suddenly sent to Xinjing. An outbreak of plague had been reported in one part of the city. As soon as we arrived, we enclosed the entire affected area inside a sheet-metal wall one metre in height and then burnt everything within the enclosure to the ground. We then conducted examinations of all the Japanese and the Chinese who had been living in the area. Finally, we were ordered to dig up the bodies of people who were suspected of having died from the epidemic, to dissect the corpses, to remove and then preserve the organs. My task was to take small specimens from the lungs, livers and kidneys of the corpses. I then applied each to a Petri dish. Organs that tested positive for the plague were taken directly back to the Unit. The Petri dishes of plague germs which I had gathered were first sent to the Xinjing National Hygiene Laboratory to be cultivated and then on to Pingfan.

It was a high-risk job and one of my colleagues became infected. I do not know how it exactly happened but the man developed a high temperature and suddenly collapsed. He was rushed back to the Air Corps Hospital at Harbin, which was a small hospital and easier to isolate. There he was treated by doctors from the Death Factory. I was told he became well enough to travel and was sent to Port Arthur, then to Hiroshima, and finally to a hospital in Morioka. I was also told he received thirty-six yen a month in compensation, which was then double the salary of a school principal, for example. However, I never personally saw or heard from the man again.

On the Black Ship, the Killer gets a reply to his letter.

Early one morning, an American jeep and a car from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police pull up outside the Killer’s address. The police rush up the stairs of the boarding house. The police kick in the door to the Killer’s room. The police ransack the room. The police come back down the stairs. The police talk to the Americans who are standing beside their jeep. The Americans and the police get back into their jeep and their car and they leave.

The Killer steps out of the shadows of the ruined building opposite his former boarding house. The Killer has a knapsack on his back and a doctor’s bag in his hand. The Killer makes his way to Tokyo Station. The Killer boards a train. The Killer leaves the Occupied City. For now.

He is the brightest boy in his class, he has the sharpest memory / He carries himself with authority / He is the tallest boy in his class, he has a magnetic personality / He hypnotizes everyone he meets / He is abrasive, arrogant and brash, and he is almost blind / He idolizes the Emperor Meiji

In the Death Factory, as the war intensified and the number of soldiers multiplied, most of my daily work increasingly concerned venereal disease. Thousands of our soldiers had become infected, with a debilitating effect upon our military capabilities. Often we were sent to perform VD checks and issue health certificates. The brothels were under civilian management and almost all of the women who worked in them were Korean. There were three classifications for the brothels; Class 1 was for officers, Class 2 for noncommissioned officers, and Class 3 for Japanese civilians and enlisted soldiers. However, due to a shortage of brothels and a surfeit of customers, it became common practice to let different units use the Class 1 brothels on certain days at certain times.

My work involved taking blood samples from the women and conducting health examinations. These examinations were known as manju exams. The woman would have to get down on her hands and knees with her buttocks raised. If her sex organ was swollen or discharged any pus it would mean she had been infected with syphilis. On a typical day, I would have to examine over one hundred and fifty women in this manner.

I know that within the Death Factory, research was conducted into venereal diseases with the aim of developing a way to protect soldiers from sexually transmitted diseases. Often I would collect blood samples from women prisoners who had contracted syphilis. These women were usually Chinese prisoners but, on occasion, I collected samples from Russian women. I heard rumours about the ways in which these women had been infected with the disease, that doctors dressed from head to toe in white laboratory clothing, with only their eyes visible, forced male prisoners infected with syphilis to have sex with female prisoners at gunpoint. Also I believe studies were conducted on pregnant prisoners and the effects of syphilis upon the foetus. It was at this time that I took a personal vow of abstinence.

On the Black Ship, the Killer travels across Japan. Day after day, the Killer tries to find a new job. Day after day, the Killer tries to start a new life. But night after night, the Killer goes hungry and cold while night after night, the men the Killer once followed, the men the Killer once served, retire well fed and warm. So night after night, the Killer writes letter after letter; anonymous letters to the Americans, anonymous letters to the Russians; letters listing names, letters detailing crimes. But day after day the letters go unanswered, night after night the guilty go unpunished. And night after night, the Killer’s own memories and nightmares return. Night after night, with the smell of bitter almonds.

In the fifth year of the reign of the Emperor Taishō / At Kyoto Imperial University, in the Medical Department / He sits beside his fellow students, his fellow students here to heal / But he is not here to heal, he is not here to cure / With his knowledge of Western medicines, with his knowledge of Oriental traditions / He is only here to study, he is only here to learn / To study disease, to learn of death

In the Death Factory, the Kwantung Army and, in particular, the Kempeitai had always been concerned about the vulnerability of our water supply to poisoning by Chinese saboteurs. However, from early 1942, this concern seemed to become an obsession and began to consume the majority of our time in Hygiene. It was, though, preferable to the interminable VD inspections.

Each day we would be assigned a different village and sent to check each well in the designated area. We were also required to test the local population for outbreaks or symptoms of anthrax, cholera, typhus and the plague in each location. Often we would be away from the Death Factory for weeks on end.

In the beginning the work was monotonous and generally without incident, though there was always the risk of ambush or attack from Chinese bandits. However, the nearer we worked to the front line or the border with the Soviet Union, the more dangerous our work became. The nature of the work itself also began to change.

On the Black Ship, the Killer finds a job. On 15 September 1947, Typhoon Kathleen strikes the Bōsō Peninsula and the Kanto area. The resulting floods leave over one thousand people dead and hundreds missing and homeless. The affected Ward Offices urgently call for trained staff to assist in the rescue operations and the prevention of disease. The Killer answers their call.

The Killer works tirelessly, day and night, to help prevent the spread of dysentery among the survivors. Finally, here among the dirty flood waters of Saitama and Tochigi, the Killer’s memories begin to recede, his addictions begin to retreat.

But then the flood waters also begin to recede, the threat of disease retreats, and the Killer is summoned to the office of the Director for Epidemic Prevention.

The Killer recognizes the Director. The Director recognizes the Killer. The Director is a sympathetic man, but he is also a practical man. The Director knows that SCAP will not allow him to employ the Killer in a full-time capacity. The Director knows that SCAP require him to forward the Killer’s name and address to GHQ. But the Director is a sympathetic man and he will ignore that order. Instead, the Director thanks the Killer for all his hard work and he gives the Killer a name, an address and a letter of introduction. The Director wishes the Killer good luck and then bids him goodbye.

His professors recognize his dedication to his studies, the superhuman levels of his energy / There is only science, there is only medicine / His professors recognize the brilliance of his mind, the incredible breadth of his knowledge / Only the laboratory, the next experiment / His professors recognize the importance of his research, the frightening potential of his work / There are no ethics, there are no oaths

In the Death Factory, at the end of 1943, I was summoned to a conference. Many unfamiliar and high-ranking men were present. I was told that the hygiene group of which I was in command had been chosen to participate in a series of experiments and trials involving a new, combined vaccine which had been developed within the Unit to inoculate against typhus, dysentery and tetanus.

A senior doctor explained, ‘The procedure for the administration of the vaccine involves the subject ingesting two solutions; first a small dose of the vaccine itself then, after a short interval, the subject should also be given a small amount of water to drink.’ It was believed that water helped the vaccine to disseminate more quickly, with greater effect.

We were now ordered to test the new vaccine in any areas where infections were reported. My examination and treatment team would go out into the villages whenever such reports were received. We would treat all the sick in a village and we would also administer the new drug to the rest of the villagers in order to inoculate them against infection. We would then return to the village within ten or fifteen days to check on the spread of the disease, the rate of infection.

The results of our work in these Chinese villages, however, proved largely inconclusive and, therefore, the trials were abandoned.

On the Black Ship, the Killer has a new job. In a hospital, an animal hospital, on a highway, in Chiba Prefecture. Day after day, the Killer goes to work among the cages and the dogs. Day after day, the Killer puts on his dirty white coat and his dirty white mask, his dirty rubber gloves and his dirty rubber boots. Night after night, the Killer returns to his room and his needle. And night after night, the Killer’s memories and his nightmares also return. Night after night, the familiar smell of bitter almonds. And night after night, day after day, the Killer knows he is dying, little by little, piece by piece.

Science divides, medicine separates / He collects and he catalogues / The strong from the weak, the healthy from the sick / Those of substance and those without, those who matter and those that don’t / He examines and he experiments / There are no patients, there are only candidates

In the Death Factory, in the winter of 1944, I was collected from the examination and treatment centre by a member of the Kempeitai. I was driven to the airfield. I was flown to another airfield. I was driven to an unmarked barracks in an unnamed city. I was taken down a long corridor into a small interrogation room. I was introduced to two other men. These men were not Kempei, these men were Tokumu Kikan. In the room, on the table, was a doctor’s bag.

‘There has been an outbreak of dysentery in a Chinese neighbourhood in the city,’ said one of the men. ‘We have located the source of the outbreak and contained it. However, some businesses and their employees in the vicinity still require disinfection and inoculation. You are experienced in the latest inoculation procedures. You will accompany us to the business premises in the area. You will inoculate the employees. And then you will leave. A disinfection team will follow you. Are these orders clear?’

I nodded. I said, ‘Yes.’

The other man now opened the black doctor’s bag. He took out two bottles, one measuring 20 °CC and marked ICHI, the other measuring 50 °CC and marked NI. ‘These are the antidotes you will administer using the same procedure you have been using to administer the typhus vaccines. This first drug, however, is of a more refined and thus more potent formula. Be sure to administer only the required dose and be sure to have the subjects swallow the dose straight down, without it touching their gums or teeth. Also be sure to wait exactly the one minute required for digestion of the first drug before administering the second drug. Is that clear?’

I said, ‘Yes.’

Finally, the first man said, ‘After you have administered the second drug and the inoculation process is complete, please leave the premises as quickly as possible so that the disinfection team can enter and perform their duties.’

I nodded as the second man put the two bottles back in the doctor’s bag. He then handed me an armband along with the bag and said, ‘Put that on.’

Outside the interrogation room, in the long corridor, I was introduced to my Chinese interpreter. ‘This man works for us and has been fully briefed,’ said one of the Tokumu men. ‘He will explain to the employees what is happening and what they must do. You simply administer the inoculations and then you leave.’

On the Black Ship, in the Occupied City, it is winter again. The Killer knocks on the side door. A young woman opens the door. The Killer presents his name-card. The young woman stares at the card. The Killer asks to see the manager. The young woman asks the Killer to come round to the front door. The Killer goes back outside. The young woman disappears into the back of the bank. The Killer opens the front door. The young woman has a pair of slippers waiting for him. The Killer takes off his boots in the genkan. The young woman tells him that the manager has already left, but that the assistant manager will see him. The Killer nods and thanks the young woman. The young woman leads the Killer through the bank. The Killer passes the rows of clerks at their desks. The young woman introduces the Killer to the assistant manager. The Killer bows. The assistant manager offers the Killer a seat. The Killer sits down, his face to the right. The assistant manager stares at the name-card. The Killer tells the assistant manager there has been an outbreak of dysentery in the neighbourhood. The assistant manager now presents his own name-card. The Killer tells Mr Yoshida that the source of the outbreak is the public well in front of the Aida residence in Nagasaki 2-chōme. Mr Yoshida nods and mentions that the bank’s manager, Mr Ushiyama, has in fact left early due to severe stomach ache. The Killer tells Mr Yoshida that one of Mr Aida’s tenants has been diagnosed with dysentery and that this man made a deposit in this branch today. Mr Yoshida is amazed that the Ministry of Health and Welfare has heard of the case so quickly. The Killer tells Mr Yoshida that the doctor who saw Mr Aida’s tenant reported the case promptly. Mr Yoshida nods. The Killer says he has been sent by Lieutenant Parker, who is in charge of the disinfecting team for this area. Mr Yoshida nods again. The Killer has been told to inoculate everyone against dysentery and to disinfect all items that may have become contaminated. Mr Yoshida nods for a third time. All members, all rooms, all cash and all money in this branch, says the Killer. Mr Yoshida stares at the name-card again. The Killer says that no one will be allowed to leave until his work has been completed. Mr Yoshida glances at his watch. Lieutenant Parker and his team will arrive soon to check the job has been done properly, says the Killer. Mr Yoshida nods. The Killer now places his small olive-green bag on Mr Yoshida’s desk. Mr Yoshida watches the Killer open the bag. The Killer takes out a small metal box and two different-sized bottles marked in English. Mr Yoshida reads the words FIRST DRUG on the smaller 20 °CC bottle and SECOND DRUG on the 50 °CC bottle. The Killer tells Mr Yoshida that this is an extremely potent oral antidote which the Americans have recently developed through experiments with palm tree oil. Mr Yoshida nods. It is so powerful that you will be completely immunized from dysentery, says the Killer. Mr Yoshida nods again. The Killer warns Mr Yoshida that the administration procedure is complicated and unusual. Again, Mr Yoshida glances at the name-card on his desk. The Killer asks Mr Yoshida to gather his staff. Even the caretaker, his wife and two children? asks Mr Yoshida. The Killer nods. Mr Yoshida rises from his desk. The Killer turns to the young woman and asks her to bring enough teacups for all the members of the branch. The young woman fetches sixteen teacups on a tray. The Killer opens the smaller bottle marked FIRST DRUG. Each member of the branch, including the caretaker, his wife and two children, gathers around Mr Yoshida’s table. The Killer asks if everybody is here. The assistant manager counts heads and nods. The Killer holds a pipette in his hand. Each member watches as the Killer drips some clear liquid into each of their cups. The Killer asks each member to pick up their teacup. Each member reaches for their own cup. Now the Killer raises his hand in warning. Each member listens as the Killer tells them of the strength of the serum, the damage it can cause to their gums and tooth enamel if they do not watch his demonstration carefully and follow his instructions precisely. The Killer now takes out a syringe. Each member watches as the Killer dips his syringe into the liquid. The Killer draws up a measure of the liquid into the syringe. Each member sees the Killer open his mouth. The Killer places his tongue over his bottom front teeth and tucks it under his lower lip. Each member watches as the Killer drips the liquid onto his tongue. The Killer now tilts back his head. The youngest of the caretaker’s children mimes the Killer’s actions. The Killer stares at his wristwatch, his right hand in the air. Each member sees the Killer’s hand fall. As the medicine may damage your gums and teeth, you must swallow quickly, says the Killer. Each member nods. Exactly one minute after you have taken the first medicine, says the Killer, I will administer the second medicine. Each member stares at the 50 °CC bottle marked SECOND DRUG. After you have taken the second medicine, you will be able to drink water or rinse out your mouth. Each member nods again. Now the Killer tells each member to lift up their cup. Each member picks up their teacup. The Killer tells them to drip the liquid onto their tongues. Each member drinks. The Killer tells each member to tilt back their head. Each member tastes the bitter liquid. The Killer stares at his wristwatch. Each member swallows. The Killer tells each member he will administer the second drug in exactly sixty seconds. One member says he does not think he has swallowed any and asks for more. The Killer shakes his head, staring at his wristwatch. One member asks if she can gargle with some water. The Killer shakes his head again, still staring at his wristwatch. Each member waits for the second drug. Now the Killer pours the second drug into each of their teacups. Each member reaches for their cup again. The Killer checks his wristwatch again. Each member waits for the signal. Now the Killer gestures for each member to drink again. Each member drinks. The Killer waits. Each member feels the second liquid in their mouth, then in their throats, now in their stomachs. The Killer tells each member to rinse out their mouth. Each member rushes for the bathroom, the tap, water.

Everyone is dying, everything is dying / The moment of birth is the beginning of decay / Decay then disease, disease then death / Birth manufactures disease, birth manufactures death / The body manufactures disease, the body manufactures death / There is only disease, there is only death

In the Death Factory, I stepped out of the building, back into the street. An ordinary street in Occupied China, with restaurants and shops, women chattering and children playing. I walked down the street, back the way I had come. Then I saw the two men from the Tokumu Kikan walking towards me, but they did not stop, they did not acknowledge me. They pulled down their hats and they pushed straight past me, walking briskly on, up the street towards the bank. I did not look back again. I glanced at my watch and I set off walking down the street again. Then, suddenly, at the first crossroads, a car pulled up. A man jumped out of the front passenger seat and held open the back door. ‘Let’s go,’ he whispered. ‘Your work is done here. It’s all over now.’ And I got into the back seat of their car, always, already a killer.

On the Black Ship, back in Chiba Prefecture, out on the highway, visitors come to the Dog Hospital now. Visitors on foot, then visitors in jeeps. Visitors with brown eyes, then visitors with blue eyes. But the Killer is not at his work, the Killer is not in his room. The Killer has gone.

In the ninth year of the reign of the Emperor Taishō / The student becomes a doctor, the doctor becomes a soldier / In the fractured, splintered mirror, the uniform changes but the work continues / Collecting and cataloguing, examining and experimenting / In the seventh year of the reign of the Emperor Shōwa / In the fractured, splintered mirror, the Army Surgeon is posted to Pingfan, near Harbin, in Manchuria

In the Death Factory, in June 1945, there were celebrations to mark the anniversary of the founding of Unit 731, but many of us already sensed the end was drawing near. There were many debates among us as to whether or not the Soviets would break the non-aggression pact and attack. Many of us felt that they would and we would be forced to evacuate the complex. Of course, such conversations could only be held in private as they were deemed defeatist and the punishments for such attitudes were harsh. However, we all knew that branch units that had recently been sent to the border had not returned.

Finally, the end came. At morning muster on 9 August 1945, all the members of Unit 731 were told that the Soviet Union had begun their invasion and we were ordered to destroy any personal documentation or evidence on our persons which would identify us as being members of Unit 731. All the men and their families were then issued with potassium cyanide. I was told that one of my responsibilities in the Examination and Treatment Unit would be to ‘assist in the deaths of those who were unable to commit suicide themselves’. To this end, our division was given extra quantities of potassium cyanide and also two large bottles of acetone cyanohydrin. It smelt of bitter almonds. I had smelt it before. And I would smell it again. In the end, however, an evacuation order was given. I was then reassigned and detailed to participate in the destruction of the Death Factory. Meanwhile, the upper-ranking officers sent their families, along with all important or sensitive documents, to the airfield to await flights to Tokyo.

Early the next day I was sent into the cells in the prison blocks. All the prisoners, all the logs, were already dead. It appeared to me that they had been gassed. My team carried the bodies to the incinerators. Soon, however, there were too many bodies for the number of incinerators and so we were forced to pile them up outside and to burn them there. It was difficult to keep the corpses burning and it required a lot of fuel oil, which was by now in short supply.

Next, all the rats and fleas had to be destroyed. There were over three hundred thousand rats and countless millions of fleas. All of these were burnt. Also, all the specimens which had been preserved in formalin in the laboratories were either destroyed or dumped into the Songhua River.

Finally, early in the evening on 14 August, the buildings themselves were detonated. In total, it took over three days to destroy the entire complex.

The destruction complete, we were then ordered to evacuate. We all gathered at the railway siding to await nightfall. Suddenly, out of the twilight, Ishii himself appeared carrying a large candle. He said, ‘I am sending you all back home. When you get there, if any one of you gives away the secret of Unit 731, I will find you. Even if I have to part the roots of the grasses to do it, I will find you …’

We then boarded a long train of about twenty cars. We travelled day and night but, fortunately, there were food supplies and drinking water aboard. On the way we heard many stories of the speed and brutality of the Soviet advance and also of uprisings in Korea. But I was lucky, and within ten days my ship docked in Japan.

On the Black Ship, the Killer lies outstretched on a bed, in a ward, in a sanatorium. A nurse picks up the Killer’s wrist and holds it between her fingers to search for a pulse. A doctor then comes and pulls up the Killer’s eyelids to shine a light into the Killer’s eyes. No dilation, no movement. The doctor lowers the Killer’s eyelids. Now the doctor leans across the Killer’s heart to listen for a beat. But all he can hear is the sound of the sea.

Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the candle-light of the last two flames, in their plague-light — white, grey, blue, green, yellow, and then red — you are turning, this way,

that way, left and then right,

spinning, that way,

this way, right

and then

left–

Shouting into the shadows, screaming into the silence, ‘Is it you? Is it you? Is it really you? Then show yourself!

‘Show yourself! And name yourself!’

This way, that way, left and then right, but nothing moves within the candle-light, no one steps into the plague-light,

but still you can sense he is near, for

here, somewhere, somewhere

in the shadows, you know

you are not alone –

And now, at last, there is movement in the candle-light, there is laughter in the plague-light, the shadows

retreating, reflections forming,

reflections in mirrors,

everywhere

mirrors. That laughter now a voice,

that voice reading words –

‘You speak, you lie.

‘You speak,

‘you lie …’

‘Stop!’ you are shouting, ‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’

That voice now laughter, that laughter then a voice again, ‘Who wrote those fine words, I wonder? Who?

‘Who? It was you! You!

‘You! You who would accuse me! You who would judge me! Convict and then execute me! Well, writer, your name is vanity!’

And now every shadow is a mirror, every word is an echo, whispering, ‘Look! Look at yourself! Listen! Listen to yourself!

‘Your every word is a failure, your every word is a lie!

‘Failures and lies which murder all meaning!

‘That is you and only you, until you die; you are you and only you, until that day; incapable and unwilling, you cannot change –

‘Enticed and entranced, deceived and defeated, in-snared and in-prisoned. You remain you, and only you, until you die –

‘Until that day, when you die –

‘Your dog’s death …’

Turning that way and this, spinning right and then left,

there are still only mirrors, mirrors and now smoke,

smoke and now blossoms, cherry blossoms,

for you are under a canopy, a ceiling

of blossoms, each single blossom

a skull, a human skull, stripped

of its skin, naked

to the bone,

alone, alone in the light of one last candle –

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, in the upper chamber of the Black Gate, in this place where once there was an occult circle, where once there stood twelve candles, where now there stands only one,

and where now, before you now, there also stands a single willow branch atop a grass mound, the sound of a drum beating,

a drum beating and a river flowing,

flowing through this city,

this Occupied City,

the Sumida–

gawa,

as feet-step and tears-drop along the banks of the Sumida, the drum beating and the river flowing, feet and tears shuffling,

a woman’s voice crying, ‘I am a mother and I am searching for my son. My son who was taken from me in this city …’

And now this woman reaches for you, she takes your hand, and now she says, ‘Come, Ferryman …

‘Come…’

For this time there is no place for you to simply sit and stare, from where to watch and which to write; this time there is no medium, this time there is no distance; for this time her feet and her tears will carry you, carry you into the words, carry you into the voices –

‘For you are the Ferryman, a writer no more –

‘You are my Ferryman …