In a letter home, a young ensign recorded the historic adventure of a lifetime he and six other naval officers experienced on the day Imperial Japan surrendered.
On board USS Haddo (SS-255) moored in Tokyo Bay, Ensign Robert Rhea, USNR, sat down on the evening of 2 September 1945 and excitedly penned a letter to his parents in distant Cookeville, Tennessee. Instead of reflecting on the surrender ceremony on board the USS Missouri (BB-63), anchored about 2,000 yards away, Taylor wrote 20 pages about the historic, gutsy sightseeing trip he and six fellow Haddo officers—including lieutenant (later Vice Admiral) James F. Calvert—had made that day. With no more protection than their sidearms, the group went ashore at the Japanese submarine base at Yokosuka, climbed over a wall, caught a train to Tokyo, and took in the city's sights to the stares of bewildered onlookers. While there, the sailors were surprised and thrilled to learn that they were the first Allied troops into the defeated Japanese capital. Rhea's letter has been edited very slightly only for space considerations.
September 2, 1945
Yokosuka, Japan
Dear Folks,
It is now here, the finish of a day, which has made up the outstanding adventure of my life and one I will certainly never forget. This will be no short account but 1 am setting it down in writing for two reasons: first, to give you some details of interest, and second, to have a record of this day for future remembrance.
This may read something like a third rate high school essay but as I am going to try and give you my personal impressions. I hope you won't mind too much. Also, I would appreciate your keeping both this letter and envelope for me.
For two days now we have been moored alongside the United States submarine tender Proteus in company with eleven other submarines and the rescue vessel Greenlet, making up SubPac's representatives.
Ever since we came in here, one thing has been in the backs of our minds, how we would "Like to Visit Tokyo." This occupation isn't nearly so far along as you might think, the total allied forces in the empire consist of a few thousand troops, sailors, and marines, here at this naval base plus some Army people over at Atsugi Air Field, the sum and total being less than ten thousand men. We realize that it will take a lot of luck and brass to make "The Trip" but if anybody can do it, we can. At nine this morning seven officers, including myself, from the Haddo started for the big city.
First we caught a motor launch over to the Jap sub base on the beach as if we were visiting the base like several others. There we were lectured by a commander-"absolutely no taking of souvenirs allowed." At the piers, all in poor condition, are two Japanese cargo subs plus some small training subs. Three Marines are trying to start a Jap charcoal-burning truck but with little success. A three-wheel motorcycle comes chugging and backfiring down a grade, one sailor astride and two "pushers" behind.
We circled around the bay to the entrance of the base, a gate guarded by Marines who were not allowed to let us pass out into the town surrounding the base. It was here that I saw my first Japanese civilian, for the people were traveling up and down the streets without much concern toward us or other allied forces.
The Marine guard thought we might be able to get out the gate to the main part of the naval base (other than the sub base) so we back-tracked, climbed a wall with the aid of a ladder, dropped over into the next section and passed out of the gate into the town. General appearance of base is untidiness and confusion, the whole place seems to have been deserted in a hurry. Part of this might be due to looting by Jap civilians and souvenir hunting Yanks.
There are several naval trucks just outside the gate, all burning charcoal or acetylene, which indicates a gasoline shortage here. . . . I suppose I felt a little wary at this time, expecting to be sniped at or such, but the people pay little attention to us other than normal curiosity. We each have sidearms but have no intentions of having to use them. . . .
So far the people have been poorly clad, rather dulleyed and bewildered looking, and definitely of a poor standard of living by standards back home. The shops are all closed and the town in general is pretty dirty and woebegone. A lot of people are on the move, probably going home now that the war is over, and are traveling either by foot or on bicycles. It is plain to see that the average citizen lives very simply.
We saw a Marine sentry at the fork in the road and asked him for information concerning the train which we had heard was now running up and down the coast under normal schedule. He did not know where the station was but had noticed that a train went by about every fifteen minutes. He and his company had been on the beach for a day now and were living on K-rations and water. A tough but fine bunch of people, these Marines. . . .
As we passed through a tunnel Jack Keller loads his pistol and we kid him about being nervous. Al Viebranz, our engineering officer, . . . the kind of guy who could sell the Brooklyn Bridge, stops a policeman, works his arms like a locomotive driver and says "Tokyo." The Jap points to the station, salutes and bows. Very polite people.
The railroad station and surrounding grounds looked about like a stock barn, dirty and buildings made of rough lumber. We have no tickets or yen like the people going through the gate but do not intend to let that stop us. We file through past the ticket catcher and he makes no notice of us, I guess he heard who won the war.
After crossing over one set of tracks and down on to the waiting platform we are in a crowd of native people who act as of they had not seen Americans before.
A northbound train comes by in about five minutes and we get on and find the thing already packed full, even to the straphangers in the aisle. I am the hindmost man of our group and have Japs crowded against me on three sides. These boys are mostly homeward bound soldiers and I doubt if there is any love lost between us.
The train slipped into a tunnel and it became almost pitch dark in the car. I reached down and pulled my jacket taut around the bottom so I would be able to feel if any of the Nips around me decide to take me to visit their ancestors by means of my .45-caliber John Roscoe. Ah, daylight and safety.
This trip is beginning to be almost as much fun as submarine duty.
The passengers stopped staring at us soon and became more or less indifferent. We were stooping and craning our necks to see the sights along the road and probably appeared more like a bunch of country boys in the big city for the first time than U.S. naval officers.
I don't know just how to describe the countryside. It's what you might call quaint and fairly beautiful, rugged little hills covered by pine, juniper, and sycamore while every available foot of the level land is under cultivation, mostly rice out here in the rural part. . . .
One Jap touched me on the soldier and pointed to an empty seat but I shook my head and paid no further attention to him. It was not a matter of being rude but that I didn't wish to have any more to do with these people than necessary. It is a little surprising that these people showed as little animosity as they did; on the contrary they seemed anxious to be nice to us. The emperor must have given orders for all this nicety, we were trying to kill each other two weeks ago and to be treated friendly so soon is not expected. . . .
At several places along the road, people were at work breaking ground with long-bladed hoes and except for a few oxen pulling plows, the entire farm labor seemed to be by hand.
As we approached Yokohama, the scene began to change and on both sides of the tracks are burned-out factories, razed to the ground, rusting machinery of every type, an almost total destruction and a view which I will never forget. This was the purpose in all the time, training, and labor required to put the planes over Japan and beat her down. . . .
We left the train at Tokyo Central Station, which has no roof now, firebombs again. Not many people are out stirring around today; maybe something about the peace, which is to be signed today, or possibly Sunday means something here, too. This has been a 65-kilometer trip up here and it took an hour and twenty minutes.
Our first stop is at the post office, which is practically deserted except for a few clerks, some of whom are young ladies who are very excited and a little afraid of us. ... We cross to the opposite corner to any office which we thought might be a police station but which turns out to be the offices of the railroad company. In the office were several desks occupied by clerks and officials of various importance, from little shaved-head copy boys to the big boy on the back desk.
The man at the front desk answers, "poorly," to our question if he can speak English. He asks us to sit down and then makes a phone call. In a few minutes a man in the R.R. company uniform came in and introduced himself as a railway guide and agreed to take us in tow through the city.
After we started off, Jack [Carolan] offered him a cigarette in hopes that it might make him a little more talkative and he brightens up and said: "Camels. I know these." Later he told us that he liked Paramount and MGM movies best of all. He also told us, "I like baseball, I know Gehrig, I saw Babe Ruth," which might not have been true since he had not been to America.
We visited the big Mitshibishi Bank and several other large and modern buildings undamaged by bombs. Little trenches have been dug between the street and sidewalk for some reason, either bomb protection or rifle fox holes. Streetcars are in operation and a few army vehicles roll by.
We looked off to the west and the very thing we had wanted most to see, the palace and grounds of the Emperor Hirohito. Not wanting to get shot, we asked our guide, whose name was N. Shirato, if he thought it would be allowable for us to visit the grounds. He agreed and headed off that way.
The place is a little hard to describe. It appears very much like a park but it is obviously very old. There is an outer and an inner moat of green water, masonry banks on the first, which is over two miles long, giving you some idea of the size of the grounds. The grounds are very well kept. The trees are willow, sycamore, and pine showing evidence of close pruning and care. The grass is not very close cropped as it is mowed with knives. Shirato says these grounds were built 300 years before "English," I think he may mean 300 B.C. . . .
The palace is a large spotless white building with a pagoda roof, pretty sturdy looking. The stables contain the white horse, which [Admiral William "Bull"] Halsey said he was going to ride. Well, I've seen the stable, which is closer to the horse than Halsey has been.
Around the iron rail on the bank of the inner moat several Japs stand rigidly praying to the emperor, descendant of the sun, they say. This business of his influence over his people is all that a lot of people have claimed.
Since we can get no closer to the palace, we travel on to other sights; the Diet building and the Foreign Office. . . . About this time we realize that we are forty miles from the American fleet and have not seen a white man since we left. Shirato says that there are some news correspondents at the Imperial hotel. ... so we ask him to take us there.
At the Imperial were about twelve people, photographers, news reporters, and one representative of the Swiss Red Cross. They seemed surprised to see us and we soon found out why. We were the FIRST MEMBERS OF THE ALLIED ARMED FORCES TO ENTER TOKYO. You have absolutely no idea what a thrill I got out of this, one I will never forget, no matter how long I live. This was what millions of Americans have fought for and a country boy like myself gets to walk in first with six other submarine officers, only by all of the odds being in our favor were we able to do this.
The news people told us we could get lunch there but warned that we probably wouldn't enjoy it very much. The hotel is modern and untouched by bombs. The meal started with black rye bread and pea soup, followed by fish, oily and smoked and salty, with unseasoned boiled cabbage. I can hardly eat this but do not wish to waste food in a hungry nation. The next course is spaghetti made from black flour, with sauce and a three-inch piece of octopus tentacle, with the suction cups still attached. Here I balk but at least drink the tea that followed. The waiters can speak English of a sort and probably served Americans here in pre-war days.
After being warned by the news boys not to go near the palace (now they tell us) we set off for the downtown section called "ginza, gensa, or such" and corresponds to New York's Broadway. Buildings show plenty of evidence of bombs but many large fine buildings are standing untouched. Some movie theatres are open and long lines wait outside. Price of admission-one yen. Shirato asked us if we wanted to go but if we got in a dark theatre and somebody goosed me, those Japs would see a show to beat all the cowboy movies they ever saw. No sir, not me.
Our parade down the street attracts a lot of attention, only twenty Allies [the sailors, journalists, and Red Cross workers] in a city of two million native Japanese. Some kids follow along behind as if this were a circus parade, several of the Jap soldiers on the street cast some nasty looks at our guide and one hissed at him. For some reason he is anxious for us to keep together.
Men are at work on practically all the damaged large buildings, many of which need little else besides cleaning up and broken windowpanes replaced. Some lots are covered by debris and people scratch around in the ruins to find something of value. Americans who haven't seen such as this will never realize just how little this war has cost them in misery and destruction.
Everyone is traveling on foot or bicycle except for a few coughing trucks and small pickups resembling an American Bantam auto. Every person seems to have some kind of bundle along, I wonder what's inside.
Some of the women look fairly pretty even by American standards. Most of them wear a jacket or blouse and long pantaloons but the office workers dress just like United States girls. . . . Children are very abundant, the Japs being prolific, and the little black-eyed kids are hard to think of as enemies.
Everyone is getting tired by now and I imagine Shirato is, too, for he didn't have any lunch and he is pretty thin besides. Our luck is stretched far enough so we head back for the railroad station. . . .
These people are the most polite to each other of any group I have ever seen, bowing before addressing another person and on leaving. They are either sincere or some actors. I have noticed several happy looking young couples along the streets today, the boy just home from the war, possibly they are just married. He should be glad some Marine didn't get hold of him in months past.
At 2:30 p.m., Shirato took us over to the 2:46 Yokosuka Express and put us on board in a first class car. We offered him a little money, which he refused, stating that we were guests of the railroad.
The train left Tokyo exactly on time and we went back through the same desolate scene of the morning. ... At Yokohama two Japanese Navy ensigns got on board and had to stand while I sat on their train in their country. One was giving me some hard looks but he only had a sword. As I looked at him, I wondered just what a difference his past and mine must be, both of equal rank in enemy navies.
Back at Yokosuka, safe and sound, but two miles to walk to the naval base. Oh, these aching feet. At a tunnel on the way we were stopped by a Marine lieutenant colonel who was very hot about us being off the naval base. If he only knew where we had really been!, 40 miles from his fold of safety.
We had trouble getting back in the base but Al brought us through. Back to the ship, turkey dinner and-mail from home, making the end of a perfect day.
Love,
Robert Taylor
Ensign Rhea resigned from the Naval Reserve in 1946 and the next year moved to west Texas, where he began a long career in farming. He now lives in North Richland Hills, Texas.