The Government of the United States and all its citizens were shocked and concerned by news of indiscriminate aerial bombing of American and other non-Chinese vessels in the Yangtze River on December 12, 1937. In this seemingly deliberate attack, the United States river gunboat Panay was sunk, and of her passengers and crew two were killed and about thirty wounded. In answer to a formal protest by the American Ambassador, the Foreign Minister of Japan expressed profound apologies for the unfortunate mistake. But reports from Panay’s commanding officer and newspaper men who survived the sinking indicated that the identity of Panay could not have been mistaken, and the American press devoted much space to their accounts while formal exchanges continued between the two governments. On December 25 the Japanese Government accepted full responsibility and declared that investigations had proved the attack to be unintentional. In response to American claims for indemnification totaling $2,214,007.36, the Japanese Government delivered a cheque in that amount to the American Ambassador on April 22, 1938, and the affair was officially settled.
The American public was relieved that war had been avoided. But the eye-witness accounts of Panay survivors have influenced Americans to nod knowingly when the incident is mentioned and recall it as an audacious indication of the Japanese militarism which culminated in the attack on Pearl Harbor. The following account of the attack, written by a Japanese participant, is here presented to American readers for the first time. In its preparation the author consulted all pertinent documents obtainable and checked with all officers in the Navy Ministry and Third Fleet who had knowledge of the event. After Commander Okumiya had written this account, a copy of the report entitled “U.S.S. Panay, loss by sinking as a result of bombing by Japanese planes 12 December 1937” by Lieutenant Commander J. J. Hughes, the Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Panay, to The Secretary of the Navy, dated 21 December 1937, was sent to him together with questions on two points which his narrative had not made clear. Commander Okumiya's observations on Captain Hughes’ report and his answers to the questions follow immediately after his story of the attack.
It was an hour past noon on December 12, 1937, and six dive bombers under my command were flying west along the Yangtze River about twenty miles south of Nanking in company with three other groups of planes of His Imperial Japanese Majesty’s Navy. Peaceful beneath us lay the rich river valley, the serenity of the vista broken only by bomb-born columns of smoke rising from the city of Nanking on our right and from the Kuchow-Wuhu highway on our left.
The frictions which had been stirring between Japan and China for the past five years had finally broken into open yet undeclared warfare in July, 1937. The immediate goal of our present campaign was the Chinese capital at Nanking. As Japanese ground forces approached this objective, Army and Navy planes conducted supporting operations along the Yangtze River.
With the other three group commanders I had come from Japan just eight days before. Our targets, located about twenty miles upstream from Nanking, were Chinese merchant vessels reported to be loaded with troops fleeing the city. We were all eager to carry out this longed-for opportunity to bomb enemy ships.
There was uncertain information that one prong of the Japanese Army had already occupied Wuhu, some fifty miles southwest of Nanking, and was moving toward the capital. Another unit, to the east, was scheduled to reach the city on December 13, and a naval unit moving up the Yangtze was due to arrive next day.
We were in complete command of the air over Nanking and vanguard forces of Rear Admiral Teizo Mitsunami’s 2nd Combined Air Group, whose headquarters were still in Shanghai, had moved up to occupy an air base at Changchow, midway between Nanking and Shanghai. This command was composed of the 12th Air Group—twelve fighters, twelve bombers, ' twelve dive bombers—under Captain Morihiko Miki, and the 13th Air Group—twelve fighters, twelve bombers, six dive bombers—under Captain Sadatoshi Senda. I was leader of the dive bomber squadron in the latter group. Vice Admiral Kiyoshi Hasegawa, Third Fleet commander in chief and supreme naval commander of the theater, also had a number of land-based, twin-engined medium bombers and about thirty seaplanes in the area. The supreme army commander, General Iwane Matsui, had only a dozen or so reconnaissance planes plus a few others in the theater.
In the early morning of December 12 I ‘had taken off from the Shanghai air base under Captain Senda’s orders and led my squadron in an attack against enemy positions near Chungshamen, the east gate of Nanking…Returning to Changchow where Captain Miki was in charge, I reported to him and then headed by car for Army air headquarters. There latest news of the ground campaign was obtainable and I could get information on the next targets for air attack. On the way I met Lieutenant Commander Motoharu Okamura, who signalled for me to turn around and follow him back to naval headquarters.
Arriving at our station we were informed that an advance army unit had reported seven large merchant ships and three smaller ones fleeing the capital, loaded to capacity with Chinese troops. They were on the upper reaches of the Yangtze, the most advanced being about twenty miles from Nanking. Ground forces were unable to reach them, and so it was requested that the naval air arm make an attack. It was rumored that a successful attack might earn a unit citation.
This information came to our base by telephone from Lieutenant Commander Takeshi Aoki, who was liaison officer in the headquarters of Lieutenant General (Prince) Asaka, commanding officer of the forces assigned to capture Nanking. Aoki, a member of Admiral Hasegawa’s staff, was considered one of the outstanding officers of the naval air force.
Since the outbreak of hostilities there had been a standing order to avoid bombing of vessels on the Yangtze because of the danger of involvement with foreign neutrals. But learning of these obviously legitimate targets, we were thrilled when Captain Miki gave the order for all available aircraft to participate in the attack. We naval air officers were eager for the opportunity to attack a target that floated. We had made many runs against sea targets in practice, but in actual combat had been limited entirely to land objectives. Excitement was further increased by the prospect of a unit citation, a thought particularly appealing to men newly arrived at the front. It did not take us long to get ready.
Captain Miki gave us a briefing. Our force was to consist of nine Type-95 fighters led by Lieutenant Ryohei Ushioda and six Type-94 dive bombers by Lieutenant Ichiro Komaki from the 12th Air Group; and from the 13th Air Group there were to be three Type-96 bombers under Lieutenant Shigeharu Murata and my six Type-96 dive bombers. Each squadron leader was ordered to conduct independent and varied methods of attack. I instructed my men to attack the largest ship of the group and reminded them to dive from high altitude with the sun at their back. Four of my planes carried two 60-kg. bombs apiece, the other two—one of which was my own-—were each loaded with one 250-kg. bomb.
We headed for the reported ships at top speed, flying at 4000 meters since our planes were not equipped with oxygen. Murata’s three bombers were flying at 3500 meters. From our base at Changchow it was about a hundred miles to the reported position of the ships.
The Yangtze River splits into three streams about halfway between Nanking and Wuhu, and it was there at the northern end of Wade Island that I spotted four or more ships. Having complete faith in Army intelligence, and seeing small boats plying between the ships and-a dock, I was convinced that these vessels were loaded with enemy troops and pointed them out to the other pilots of my squadron who seemed to go wild with joy. I looked about for possible enemy aircraft, and seeing none, banked my plane as the signal to prepare for attack. As my squadron lined up in single column behind me I surveyed the ships below, observed the second one from the north to be the largest and selected her as our target.
The attack was opened by Murata’s high- level bombers while the rest of us were still approaching. Each of his three planes dropped six 60-kg. bombs, some of which scored two direct hits on one of the smaller ships at the southern end of the group— which proved to be U.S.S. gunboat Panay. Then the rest of us came diving in, and as we raced earthward I lost sight of the distant horizon, then the far reaches of the river, and by the time our 60-degree dive had brought me down to 1000 meters my vision was completely filled with the ever-growing target on the yellow surface of the water as it filled and overflowed the viewer of my primitive bomb-sight. At 500 meters I released the bomb and pulled out of the dive.
While climbing I looked back and was surprised to see a large water ring near the stern of the ship. My bomb had missed! My surprise was doubled upon observing misses by the rest of my planes. More water rings appeared all around the target but there were no hits.
Komaki’s squadron attacked next, followed by Ushida’s fighters which strafed their targets; both of these groups directed their attention toward ships which had not yet been attacked. In circling the area I observed no antiaircraft fire and saw no hits scored after those initial ones by Murata’s planes. My most vivid memory of the attack was that the decks of the ships were crowded with men, many of whom were wearing black suits.
All of the ships were now milling confusedly. The one that had been hit was moving up river and seemed to be sinking slowly by the bow. She was followed by the large ship, unsuccessfully attacked by my squadron, which seemed to he trying to come alongside her. Other ships were being run aground, but, when I took a last look before returning to base, there were not more than two ships in any danger of sinking; the others were only lightly damaged, if at all.
My squadron returned to base where I reported at once to Captain Miki that some ships had still not been seriously damaged, recommending that he order another attack. Being the first to return, my squadron was chosen to make a second attack and we took off again.
Returning to the scene of the first attack we found no ships and therefore went on to Wuhu. When this tack proved fruitless we headed back toward Nanking. Some ten miles south of the city I caught sight of a fairly large ship coming downstream and decided to attack her, figuring that she had escaped unharmed from our first bombing. I ordered separate runs made for each of the two 60-kg. bombs our planes carried.
As we approached I noticed three more ships anchored downstream from the first, which was now seen to be approaching this group in an effort to come alongside the biggest ship. This largest ship being more attractive I now chose her as target and led our single column formation in for the attack.
Diving from 3000 meters I was just pulling out after releasing my first bomb when a British flag on one of the ships caught my eye and I was struck with terror at the thought of the blunder I had committed. I shook the control stick right and left vigorously, waggling the plane as a signal for the following planes to hold off their attack, but it was too late. In they came and the only thing I could do was hope that the bombs might miss.
For the first and only time in my entire aviation career I earnestly hoped that my attempt to hit a target might fail, and this fervent hope was answered when I saw my bomb fall astern of the ship. The bombs of the second and third planes were closer to the target, but they too missed, thank God! The rest of the planes caught my frantic signal, withheld their bombs and began to circle.
The 40 seconds following my sighting of the Union Jack were like a lifetime—dark moments, indeed. The ships had opened with antiaircraft fire just before we dived to attack but had stopped by the time my planes had regrouped. With a total of nine unused bombs in our racks I decided to unload them on targets in Nanking. After hitting enemy positions just inside one of the city gates about sunset, we returned to Changchow, where it was dark by the time we landed.
We had been scheduled to continue to Shanghai but since it was late we decided to spend the night at our base. Soon after retiring I was awakened and handed a message from the commander in chief of Japanese naval forces in China which read, “Squadron commanders of the flying units which attacked vessels on Yangtze River are ordered to report to flagship Izumo tomorrow morning.” No one at the base knew what this was all about but, in view of the successes of the day’s air attack, the general atmosphere was optimistic. Nevertheless I felt depressed at the thought of having attacked a British ship.
Next morning the four of us made a hurried trip to old cruiser Izumo at Shanghai. Our optimism remained high until we encountered the tense atmosphere on board the flagship. There we were met by Lieutenant Commander Kurio Toibana, staff officer for air operations. He informed us, to our consternation, that among the ships attacked and hit the day before were United States gunboat Panay and a ship belonging to the Standard Oil Company.
As supreme Japanese naval commander in China, Vice Admiral Hasegawa had realized the danger of violating the rights of foreign neutrals in this theater. He had accordingly placed many restrictions on operations, especially air operations along the Yangtze River, and ship bombing was as a rule prohibited. Toward the avoidance of involvements with neutral ships our naval command in Shanghai was kept informed of the locations of United States and British warships in the Nanking area, and this information was in turn relayed to subordinate commands so that they would avoid attacking such ships. On December 11 our high command in Shanghai had received word from Admiral Yarnell of the United States Asiatic Fleet that gunboat Panay was located four miles upstream from Nanking.
Commander Takata, who had just assumed his post as Admiral Hasegawa’s senior staff officer on December 1, had been apprehensive about the possibility of untoward incidents and had thus advised Lieutenant Commander Toibana to notify our air forces immediately of Panay's change in location. Toibana’s response to this suggestion was to the effect that since the United States consulate had informed our Shanghai consulate merely that Panay had been instructed to move farther upstream, he considered it wise to delay announcement of Panay's move until her new location was announced so as to avoid the confusion which might arise from a multiplicity of messages on the subject. Commander Takata was not convinced on this point until Toibana, who, in addition to being staff air officer with long experience in this theater, was considered to be one of the best brains in the naval air force, firmly assured him that naval pilots could be counted on not to commit any blunders.
Unfortunately it was not until five hours after noon on the 12th that Toibana succeeded in learning Panay’s new position from the Japanese consulate, and it had taken numerous telephone calls before the information was complete. During the last three hours of these attempted communications the emissaries of the United States had been inquiring about information on the gunboat because the fleet flagship had lost contact with her. Thus it was that Toibana became filled with a dreadful fear when he read the daily battle report from our base at Changchow. As he explained it to us, his faith in our air force had led to the worst mistake of his whole life. The real magnitude of our crime was first brought home to us as Toibana concluded his narration with a profound bow.
We were ushered in to present our explanation of the error to the assembled Third Fleet staff. We had not been aware of the presence of neutral ships in the vicinity of Nanking. Our violation of the restrictions on ship bombing was a product of our temporary excitement inspired by a reliance, in fact an over-reliance, upon the information conveyed to us by the army. We had approached our targets at high altitude certain that they were Chinese. The number of ships and their location made them reasonably fit the description supplied by army intelligence. We cited the similarity of appearance of gunboats of all nations, making them hard to distinguish from the air; and that the Murata group, which had apparently hit Panay, had done so from an altitude of 2500 meters, which meant that they were some 4000 meters distant from the ship at the time of bomb release. It was absolutely anything but a premeditated attack that was carried out on Panay. This tragedy was solely the result of a terrible mistake.
Admiral Hasegawa and his staff were convinced of our sincerity and the truthfulness of our explanation, and took no further action against us. But we again felt the gravity of our unfortunate error upon seeing Rear Admiral Rokuzo Sugiyama, the chief of staff, grave visaged and sorrowful as he departed to tender apologies to Admiral Yarnell for our action.
It was about this time that he learned that Admiral Hasegawa had, upon receipt of news of the Panay misfortune, dispatched two flying boats with medical officers and supplies to the scene of the tragedy.
On December 19, immediately after the fall of Nanking, I made the first successful landing on Tachiochang Field outside the walls of the capital. There, with the other three lieutenants who had led attack groups that fateful day a week earlier, I received a letter of reprimand directly from Navy Minister Admiral Mitsumasa Yonai for having violated the neutrality of foreign ships on the Yangtze. Such action by the Navy Minister was quite without precedent.
Under naval regulations a division commander like myself would normally be disciplined by his group commander, who might in turn be punished by his air flotilla commander. By the same token the air flotilla commander would be subject to punishment by his superior and so on up the line until the matter might conceivably come to the attention of the Navy Minister who would deliver the appropriate censure to his responsible subordinate. With my having heard directly from the Navy Minister it was clear that Admirals Hasegawa and Mitsunami had also heard directly from Admiral Yonai. The text of my reprimand was as follows:
To Lieutenant Masatake Okumiya:
As commander of a dive bomber squadron of the 13th Air Group, your action in attacking American and British warships on the Yangtze River 12 December 1937 without definitely identifying your target is deemed a failure in the performance of your duties. You will henceforth exercise greater care.
/s/ Mitsumasa Yonai
Navy Minister
17 December 1937
That these letters were sent to Nanking by special airmail—rather than by ordinary official mail—was further evidence of the Navy’s earnest and sincere desire to settle this matter promptly and prevent further such incidents.
The tragedy of this accident had, in the meantime, become a serious diplomatic issue between the United States and Japan— an issue of very grave consequence. At first it had seemed that a settlement was being realized through the prompt action of the Japanese government in frankly recognizing its responsibility and tendering sincere apologies, and through the generous understanding of the United States. But the affair flared anew when the New York Times headlined an account of the incident as witnessed by one of its correspondents on board Panay.
The newspaper stressed the fact that not only had Japanese naval planes attacked Panay but two small surface craft had then machine-gunned her, inflicting further damage. It was contended that since these small craft had ample opportunity to ascertain the nationality of their target before firing, the attack must have been the result of an intentional plot. Official Japanese explanations that there were no ground or surface forces in the vicinity at the time of the air attack were received with great suspicion in the United States and served to arouse public opinion which until then had been comparatively calm.
The official report of Panay’s skipper confirmed the surface attack and the United States government instructed Ambassador Grew to seek further explanations from the Japanese government. But even before this request was officially received, Captain Kobayashi in Washington had notified the Japanese Navy Minister of the impending query, whereupon Admiral Hasegawa was immediately ordered to conduct another investigation. His Third Fleet headquarters was at a loss to explain alleged attacks by the two small boats since Japanese surface forces going up the Yangtze had not yet reached Nanking. It was found, however, that some planes of the 12th Air Group had made strafing attacks on the ships, and this fact was immediately reported to Tokyo.
This information from Shanghai was relayed to Ambassador Grew, who found it unsatisfactory as an answer to his inquiries. A further question was put to the War Ministry as to what it might know of the attack by the two small boats. The presence of army troops in the vicinity was acknowledged, but General Matsui’s headquarters sent a firm reply that no army troops had machine-gunned any ships. And there the matter stood.
With no satisfactory answer forthcoming from Japan the situation grew worse and worse, especially when it came to light that Colonel Kingoro Hashimoto, in command of the Wuhu invasion forces, had mistakenly ordered an attack on British gunboat Ladybird the same day that Panay was attacked. This complication served to increase the difficulties which beset Admiral Yonai.
It was at this stage of affairs that a new and unexpected lead came to light in the city of Nanking, shortly after the entry of Japanese troops on December 19. Captain Kaoru Arima, Admiral Hasegawa’s liaison officer with the Army High Command, heard a group of war correspondents discussing the attack on Panay and learned from them that army boats had fired on people fleeing from a damaged ship just after the bombing. Captain Arima reported this information immediately and urged that the army conduct an investigation of this alleged episode.
Investigation revealed that in the morning of December 12 after Wuhu was occupied, an advance unit of the Kunisaki Detachment continued on down the Yangtze in small boats. This group passed several ships including Panay, a Japanese lieutenant paying a visit to the latter, after which they proceeded toward Nanking but soon turned back for fear they might be cut off from their main force. They were just repassing Panay and the other ships when the Japanese planes made their sudden attack.
The situation was one of utter confusion in which the Japanese soldiers opened fire with machine guns at what they thought to be Chinese soldiers fleeing to the banks of the river. Their unprincipled fire can only be explained as a product of the fear and surprise caused by the attacking planes.
After the bombs had been dropped the strafing planes made their runs, from which the Japanese boats were not exempted. The frenzied soldiers strove to ward off this attack by their airborne compatriots by waving Japanese flags. But, like other national insignia present, these too went unseen by the exuberant attacking pilots and Japanese soldiers were killed and wounded by the aerial strafing. No official report had been made of this episode by the army unit involved and so this information remained unknown until uncovered by the special investigation.
Captain Arima promptly reported these findings to Admiral Hasegawa, who immediately sent his senior staff officer, Commander Takata, to Tokyo with this new information. He reported to the Navy Minister on December 24. The War Minister was also promptly apprised of these findings.
The gravity of the situation inspired prompt action all along the line and the War and Navy Ministries joined at once in the decision to make full representations to the United States and tender their sincere apologies. To this end Navy Vice Minister, Vice Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, and Commander Takata in company with Colonel Kenshiro Shibayama, chief of the Military Affairs Section, went to the American Embassy in the late evening of December 24 as representatives of the army and navy. Thanks to Mr. Crew’s understanding efforts the critical situation was eased and a settlement concluded.
Of the four lieutenants who led the planes which attacked Panay and her consorts, I am the only one alive today. Lieutenant Ushioda failed to return from an aerial mission in central China in January, 1938. Lieutenant Commander Murata commanded a torpedo-bomber unit from Akagi in the attack on Pearl Harbor, later transferred to Shokaku, and was killed in action when that carrier took part in the battle of Santa Cruz, October 26, 1942. Lieutenant Commander Komaki was a member of Admiral Mineichi Koga’s Combined Fleet staff and was killed in one of the planes which disappeared March 31, 1944, when the staff was being moved to Davao to escape American attacks on the Palaus. As the sole surviving member of this group, I hope that this narrative will serve to clear up any misunderstandings regarding our actions that fateful day in 1937.
I am grateful for the opportunity of reading Captain Hughes’ report to the Secretary of the Navy on the sinking of U.S.S. Panay. I wish to pay my respects to Captain Hughes and the crew members of Panay and the three cargo ships. At the same time 1 offer these additional remarks, which may further lessen the misunderstanding that has stood between our peoples these fifteen years. And I hope that in its place will be established a feeling of mutual understanding.
Captain Hughes has written an admirably straightforward account of events as commanding officer of the vessel. It must be remembered, however, that the attack on Panay came as a surprise and Captain Hughes, seriously wounded at the outset, did not see very much of the action with his own eyes but was obliged to rely upon the reports of others for his information. Under such circumstances it is easy to see how misunderstandings might occur. Indeed, considering the extreme unusualness of the entire incident, I do believe that some misunderstanding was unavoidable. Accordingly I wish to discuss several issues raised by the report of Captain Hughes.
The point is made that two American flags, approximately 14 by 18 feet in size, which were painted on the top decks fore and aft, were discernible even from a great altitude.
The Captain’s report states:
At about 1327, the lookout called down that two planes were in sight, altitude about 15,000 feet. The weather was clear with good visibility and no wind. The planes were clearly visible in spite of their altitude which may not have been as high as reported to me.
As I have previously mentioned, the first arrivals at the target area were Lieutenant Murata’s three Type 96 bombers. These are single-engined biplanes with a wingspread of 49.5 feet and a length of,33.3 feet. All 24 of our planes that day were in formations of three, and even the smallest plane, the Type 95 carrier fighter, was 22 feet long and had a wingspread of 33 feet.
It appears therefore that although the shipboard lookouts observed the planes until the first bombs were dropped, and the smallest planes were almost double the size of the largest flags, still the number of planes in the first group to attack could not be counted accurately when distant some 14,000 feet. We pilots are of course open to criticism for having been unobservant, but considering that the American flag—unlike the Japanese flag—is extremely difficult to distinguish at any great distance, it can be imagined what chance there was to make identification from that altitude. And Panay’s deck having been damaged in the very first attack by the high-level bombers, her deck markings were rendered even more indistinguishable. Since most of our planes had the cargo vessels as their targets, Panay’s deck markings were further useless as identification. Furthermore, Panay’s construction characteristics were not of much avail to distinguish her on the Yangtze, where the vessels of all countries are so similar.
Although it was the high-level bombers which dropped their bombs first, the Captain’s report states that the first planes to attack were the dive bombers. This was an error of identification, a confusing of Lieutenant Murata’s high-level bombers which attacked first, with my unit which followed soon after.
In his report Captain Hughes further states:
It should be remembered that the attacking planes concentrated almost all their efforts on the Panay during at least the first half-hour.
This statement is far from the truth, according to my observations at the time. Having missed my target on the first run in, I circled widely to regain position for a second attempt. During this maneuver I watched the Murata unit make a second bomb run on Panay with nothing better than near misses, and she was attacked by no other planes thereafter. The rest of our attacks were concentrated on the Cargo vessels which were more appealing as targets than Panay.
The Captain reports that Panay received 24 direct hits. If by this he means direct bomb hits, then he is obviously in error. I saw the Murata unit score two hits in its first attack on Panay, after which there was a violent burst of steam from her funnel, as though she had cut loose her anchors for an emergency departure, and one of the cargo vessels followed behind her as though to come alongside. From that time until I left the scene neither my unit nor Murata’s made any more attacks on Panay.
The bomb-carrying capacities of the planes in this attack were as follows:
(Murata’s—three) Type 96 high-level bomber |
6 |
60-kg. |
(18) |
|
(4) 2 |
60-kg. |
(8) |
(Okumiya’s—six) type 96 dive bomber |
(2) 1 |
250-kg. |
(2) |
(Komaki’s—six) Type 94 dive bomber |
2 |
60-kg. |
(12) |
(Ushioda’s—nine) Type 95 fighter |
2 |
60-kg. |
(18) |
The Komaki and Ushioda planes had made their first bomb drops on the other ships, releasing half of their total of 30 bombs on them. Thus even if all the rest of the remaining bombs in the planes of their units had been dropped on and hit Panay, the total would have been only fifteen.
Furthermore, on the basis of my fifteen years of experience as a naval officer, I cannot accept the proposition that a 450-ton gunboat could receive as many as 24 direct bomb hits between 1329 and 1425 hours and remain afloat until 1554. I was the senior dive-bomber pilot in the Japanese Navy and participated in numerous carrier operations. From these experiences, which include the campaigns of World War II in the Solomons and at Rabaul, I have learned that men on board a vessel under attack for the first time will almost invariably have the impression that the entire attack is concentrated on their vessel alone, no matter how many other ships may be present. I believe that if Panay’s Captain had not been wounded so early in the attack, and had been able personally to observe the action, his report would have been far different.
It is certainly true, as stated in the report, that the Japanese Army officers involved in the incident did not show common sense in regard to international matters, nor did they display good judgment, or even a proper knowledge of military etiquette; and their actions seriously aggravated the confusion at the time. It made matters worse when they fired on the boats from the stricken vessels, and their failure to report this action to the authorities seemed like the height of senselessness to us in the navy.
One reason that the incident assumed proportions so far beyond first expectations was, in the opinion of the Japanese Navy, the arrogant attitude taken by artillery Colonel Kingoro Hashimoto when he shelled the British vessels at Wuhu. We felt that this incident served further to aggravate America’s ill will toward Japan.
Prior to the regrettable Panay incident Lieutenants Ushioda and Komaki had enjoyed cruises to the United States and Lieutenant Murata had visited the Mediterranean, as had I. From our contacts with naval officers of both England and the United States, we felt that this whole affair would have been resolved far more readily had the Japanese Army not been involved.
Question 1
Since the Japanese were in complete command of the river and the air over the river, why did you not identify your target?
Answer
The principal reason for our failure to identify the targets was our over-reliance on the army intelligence report.
Another thing—which perhaps only a naval pilot would understand—was our joy and excitement at the realization that for the first time in our lives we were going to attack actual vessels. I took off just as fast as I could, thinking little of formation, or even of the other planes in my flight, leaving them to catch up as best they could. Komaki’s old Type-94 bombers took off first, but Murata’s planes and mine soon overtook them. It was like a race. This desire to be first to the target, and the desire for distinguished service also caused us to begrudge the time required for identifying the target. Our complete negligence in this regard can never be denied; but has been and, while the last of us lives, will always be regretted.
Furthermore, and lastly, we did not want to give the enemy time to prepare for the attack, a viewpoint and desire which will, I believe, be understood by any pilot.
Question 2
Is it possible that the Japanese Army intentionally duped the Navy into making this attack upon American ships?
Answer
Absolutely not! And the statement of army instigation as contained in Rear Admiral Samuel E. Morison’s The Rising Sun in the Pacific is a mistake.
Historically the United States has been practically ignored by the Japanese Army, whose traditional and primary concern has always been the possibility of war with Russia. There was no reason for Army hostility toward the United States, nor toward the British except for their ambassador’s having crossed through our front lines at Shanghai recently without giving official notice of his intention to do so. This was interpreted by Japan as an interference with military operations and may have provoked Colonel Hashimoto’s hostile action in the Ladybird.
Admiral Morison has written that Japanese naval air units attacked the American vessels in accordance with orders from this Colonel Hashimoto. But army and navy commands were absolutely separate, as was made abundantly clear in the findings of the Tokyo war crime trials. Authority for either service to have issued orders to the other would have necessitated a direct command from the Emperor. It is true that Captain Miki ordered the attack on the basis of an army report, but his reliance in this was upon the complete confidence which he reposed in Commander Aoki, who had relayed the message which resulted in the final blind command for action. (Miki, Aoki, and Hashimoto are still living.) At the time of the Panay incident we naval pilots did not even know of Colonel Hashimoto’s existence. I was greatly pleased therefore to learn that Admiral Morison is preparing a new edition of The Rising Sun in the Pacific, for which he has considered information acquired since the first edition was published, and trust that he will modify his conclusions about the attack on Panay.