Late in August, 1945, a meeting was held aboard the USS Missouri to lay plans for full public information coverage of the surrender of Japan. The Missouri group, presided over by the late Admiral Forrest P. Sherman, USN, decided, among other things, that there should be one-man direction and responsibility for the pictorial coverage, and Admiral Sherman designated me as that "one man." I was assigned a deputy from each of the three services.
Our first task was to survey the area where the surrender was to take place. Upon completing this inspection, we prayed for fair weather, for if foul weather developed the surrender would be held in the admiral's cabin of the Missouri, which would by no means hold all of the dignitaries, not to mention the numerous members of the news services and photographic crews. The primary site for the surrender was, as is well known, the Missouri's main deck, which offered daylight for the photographic units, as well as more space for all concerned. Probably no other event of World War II was attended by so many official photographers representing so many nations.
In all there were 68 photographers representing Australia, Canada, China, France, Great Britain, the Netherlands, New Zealand, the Soviet Union, and the United States, and naturally each man sought the choice spot directly opposite General MacArthur. To resolve that problem, we selected several key positions and made specific assignments.
Because there would be standing room only for General MacArthur and the other VIP's if we littered the surrounding deck area with photographic cables and the like, we asked the Missouri to have built for our use a platform which would hold some twenty persons, and to suspend the structure beyond the ship's rail so that we could have our advantageous position without being accused of occupying precious deck space. On that platform we planned to place two sound motion picture crews (Army and Navy), one representative from each of the wirefoto services, a press or service cameraman from each of the Allied Nations, and our own official (Army) color photographer. We also arranged to have one Navy still photographer suspended in a cage over the VIP's to get a reverse shot of the proceedings.
The turret-top spot was assigned to another color cameraman who protested vigorously about that location. My contention that the turret was an ideal location was sustained by the fact that he made the best still picture—either color or black-and- white—of the entire surrender proceedings.
In distributing the assignments to the Allied powers armed forces cameramen, I encountered no trouble-not even from the Russian Colonel "Shushy" whose cooperative spirit seemed to be all we could ask for.
Then came the question of permitting the Japanese to film the ceremony, and I arranged for two Japanese, a newsreel cameraman, and a "pool" press photographer, to be on hand 10 photograph the surrender of their own nation. Incidentally, the surrender ceremony films were shown throughout Japan, for as travelers to that land will attest, almost every Japanese village, no matter how medieval in appearance, has electricity and a movie theater.
As VJ-Day approached, all appeared to be in complete readiness, and I was delighted with the spirit of cooperation which all hands—U. S. as well as Allied—had shown. The only bit of pessimism came from the "Potsdam Crew," the top-notch Army photographic unit which had covered the Potsdam Conference a few weeks before and which had been flown by special plane to the Far East 10 cover the war's end. From those experienced lads came the warning, "Watch out for those Russians! They never agreed so quickly before. They must he up to something!"
VJ-Day dawned, and I boarded the Missouri before 0500 to prepare for the big event. Fair weather prevailed, and the VIP's began arriving as the signing hour approached. The surrender table was centered with Navy exactness right in the middle of the deck, but it was too far from our camera platform. So when the arrangers were busy elsewhere, we relocated the table by pushing it up to within eight feet of our platform, an ideal spot for our lenses. We positioned the microphone so that General MacArthur and the other participants could speak and then step around to the chair to sign—all without getting out of focus.
One last item needed moving—the Commodore M. C. Perry flag which had been flown to the Missouri for the occasion. That historic flag was next to the place where the Japanese envoys were to stand and was moved in to range by placing it over the admiral's cabin where it showed up well in the news photographs.
About half an hour before the ceremony, which was set for 0900, we noticed that two civilian still cameramen had stationed themselves where the representatives of the Allied Powers were to stand. I walked over to check their tags and to direct them to their proper vantage points. When I started to talk to them, they shook their heads and pointed to their tags, which read Pravda and Izvestia. I called Colonel "Shushy" over, but he quickly informed me that these two were Soviet "Government officials" and that he had no desire or intention of getting mixed up with them. Finally I located an interpreter with whose aid I told the two interlopers that they would have to take their allotted stations. Again they shook their heads and let me know that they intended to take their pictures from that very spot. To give emphasis to their position, they added righteously, "Anyway, you are an Army Officer and cannot give orders aboard a Navy ship."
Growing increasingly impatient, I obtained the services of a couple of Marine guards. The Soviet cameramen still refused to budge, but they left without a struggle when the Marines escorted them off the deck. That crisis was passed—or so I thought.
A few moments later I was busy on the platform when a member of the "Potsdam Crew" remarked, "Hey, look who's with Derevyanko!" I glanced at the General representing the Soviet Union, and sure enough, there were Pravda and Izvestia!
Tackling General Derevyanko through an interpreter, I informed him politely that the two press photographers in his party were to occupy assigned positions elsewhere, but the word came back, "The General says they are officials and will stay with him." I replied that they were not officials with press-type cameras and would have to leave the deck or give up their cameras. "Nyel," was the firm reply. I then repeated that they would have to leave the deck—voluntarily or otherwise. Derevyanko looked stormy, and the interpreter announced that I had grossly insulted the Soviet delegation.
About this time two of General MacArthur's top aides entered the conversation and concluded that even if the Russians had broken the photo agreement, they could not be removed forcibly. General Willoughby conferred with the Soviet General and reached a compromise by agreeing that one photographer would go to his assigned station, but that the other would occupy the No. 1 platform. I was told to lake him there, which I did, and indicated thathe was to sit down and shoot from the only vacant spot—which was right near our camera. I noted thathe positioned himself in such a way that if he stood up to shoot he would block our main camera. I told our camera crew chief, "If this lad gets up and blocks our lenses during the ceremony, conk him on the head with a crank handle." The Russian allegedly knew no English, but in any case, he never jumped up, and peace reigned.
I observed that neither of the Soviet cameramen did much shooting during the ceremony-except when Derevyanko and the Japanese signed. Months later I learned why from American correspondents in Russia. The Russian version showed Derevyanko accepting the Japanese surrender aboard an unidentified warship—a great Russian victory!
Photographing the ceremony went like clockwork, and in accordance with a prearranged plan we dispatched a dozen selected stills to be wirefotoed from the USS Iowa and from Tokyo. Another special pack was flown to Manila for wirefoto, but the rest of the original negatives and all of the motion picture film (except the Russian) was placed in the plane used by the "Potsdam Crew" and dispatched for Washington by the shortest route via Alaska and Seattle. For more than thirty hours I worried over that flight, for aboard was the complete pictorial record of an epochal event, and great was my relief when word came that the pictures had reached Washington and had been released.
When the war ended in the Pacific ten years ago, Colonel Kalisch was General Headquarters Photo Officer with the responsibility of assigning combat cameramen to the various U. S. Army divisions in the southwest Pacific area. He was one of the first Americans to enter Japan in 1945. Colonel Kalisch's present position is Executive for Operations at the U. S. Signal Corps' Long Island City Pictorial Center.