Japanese soldier Hiroo Onoda surrendering in 1974 (Malacañang Palace)‘Soldier of the Rising Sun’: A Poem by Brian Yapko The Society June 8, 2025 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 46 Comments . Soldier of the Rising Sun Date/Location: February 19, 1974—Uninhabited jungle, Lubang Island in the northern Philippines. The matter: Believing that Japan is still fighting World War II almost 30 years after its defeat, Japanese soldier Hiroo Onoda has not surrendered. However, he senses the winds of change in the air. This highland campsite is well-camouflaged Within a grove of tree-ferns and bamboo. For tranquil skies I bow my gratitude— My gratitude the storm caused no disorder. The jungle floor is clear and dry as bone. Such mercy have the gods of fortune shown! This morning, Reiko-san, like every day, I wake, I drink of water from the brook. I hunt for game that I might kill and cook. I feed you worms. I beg for you to sing— Sing, please!—of Kamekawa—once my home. When fledged, I think you flew from there to me. A grub and a persimmon break my fast. I offer you the seeds to eat, my friend. My friend, why is it you now scorn to sing? A dying feather falls from off your wing. You cannot stay forever in your cage Or you will not remember how to fly! Ah, Reiko-san, remember when we met? The blood you lost? The wounded wing I saved? Two years, it was. Kozuka was just killed— A loyal soldier—he was like a brother. A brother… my one link left to Japan. He fought and died an honorable man. I beg a question. When you sang last night I heard a whisper of the Emperor: Stand down. We are defeated. Is this truth? Shall I lose face the way I lost my youth? This island is my life! My fight is here— Here since December, 1944! The War is lost, you sang. Was this a lie? A lie! For war continues if just one Brave samurai with mettle and a gun—- Stands forth and draws about him sacred space— Unconquered land I fight for these long years. Here is Japan! My village-soul is here! I serve the Emperor—a breathing god. My life is his—a pledge free from façade! ”Do not get captured. Do not take your life. Do not give up. Do all a soldier should.” Should I have thought these orders were not true? Can it be said a man has too much faith? At times I feel imprisoned by a past— A past of dreams. But then I wake to speak The strange words: Nineteen Hundred Seven-Four. I saw a plane that left a straight smoke trail Propelled as by a dragon-billowed sail. I dreamt of men in Noh-masks on the Moon. But all that matters is my home, Japan— Japan: beloved Empire of the Sun. What changes, Reiko-san, leave me behind? Why does the Emperor not send for me? I have a fear, an ache which makes me burn: What if he hopes that I will not return? And yet of late my heart bleeds for Japan: White snow, plum blossoms floating in the wind; Tall maple trees turned blood through Autumn mists. Mists covering the visage of Mt. Fuji; The scent of foods I relished from the sea. But, Reiko-san, I most of all miss tea. I shall prepare a Tea for you and me, The ceremony of my ancestors. I live apart but I am civilized Yet caught between two paths—to go or stay? To meditate may help me find my way. My way: perform the rite to reach within. This jungle, I regret, has no tea leaves— Tea leaves which I must grind to serve as matcha. I improvise. Carmona leaves will do— A Filipino plant which I shall brew. I bow to you. You bow. We then begin. Upon my knees I reach forth for the “tea.” I grind the leaves by using the blunt edge— The heavy section of the sacred dagger My mother gave so I could kill myself. My “self” would thus be rescued from the foe. She did not know my suicide was banned. Alive I might yet serve out my command. We have no scroll. Our flag shall mark this clearing. So from a branch I hang the Rising Sun: The rising sun stitched on a field of white. These palm fronds serve as my tatami mat. I don my patchwork uniform and hat And wear the rite within my tattered soul. The tea bowl is carved from a coconut. No whisk, no scoop, but water clean and cool— Cool from the stream. I heat it on the fire. I sacrifice my helmet as the pot. The tea is done. I pour it with a sigh, And think how, Reiko-san, you long to fly. I next hold up the carved out teacup husk Rotate the front from my unworthy lips And drink. I close my eyes and I recall… Recall those I have killed who haunt me since. The ceremony ends. The cup I rinse Then offer to the stream. My soul is cleansed. And now I feel a shift as if called forth. The wind has changed direction to the North. The North! Can it be I am summoned home? I peer into your cage, the bamboo cage I cobbled, Reiko-san, to shelter you. I bow to you for you have been my friend. I open up the cage. You look at me. You touch your beak upon my rifle finger. You hesitate as if you mean to linger. You are afraid. You falter, then fly off— Off to the trees and very soon are gone. But maybe to yourself you are now found. I do not let the jungle see my tears. I soon shall leave. When I am judged—or cursed— Let it be known I put my country first. To live each day is how I fought this War. I weep but I am certain who I am: I am Onoda. I am Japanese. . Poet’s Note On December 26, 1944, Hiroo Onoda was sent to lead guerilla warfare operations on Lubang Island in the Japanese-occupied Philippines. Onoda’s orders stated that under no circumstances was he to surrender to the enemy or take his own life. After a short time, all but Second Lieutenant Onoda and three other soldiers had died or surrendered. Onoda led the men into the island’s mountains. Although leaflets were dropped to tell them the War was over, they determined that this was a trick and continued the fight. By 1972 only Onoda and his friend Kozuka survived. And when Kozuka was killed during an unsuccessful incursion, Onoda was left alone. On February 20, 1974, Onoda encountered Norio Suzuki, a Japanese adventurer who was traveling around the world and told friends he was looking for “Lieutenant Onoda, a panda, and the abominable snowman, in that order.” Suzuki found Onoda after four days of searching. They became friends, but Onoda still refused to surrender as he awaited orders from his commanding officer. Suzuki returned to Japan with photographs of him and Onoda as proof of their encounter. The Japanese government located his old commander, Major Yoshimi Taniguchi, who flew to Lubang with Suzuki and, on March 9, met with Onoda in the jungle and issued him orders to surrender. Following Taniguchi’s directive, Onoda surrendered his sword to Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos at a ceremony on March 11, 1974, in what became an international media sensation. Marcos granted Onoda a full pardon for crimes he committed while in hiding, including the killing of multiple Philippine civilians. Onoda turned over his sword, a functioning rifle, 500 rounds of ammunition, several hand grenades and a dagger his mother had given him in 1944 to kill himself with if captured. He received a hero’s welcome in Japan but Onoda, dismayed by the degeneration of Japanese society, soon moved to be near his brother in a traditional Japanese community in Brazil. He later returned to Japan and died in Tokyo in 2014 at the age of 91. . . Brian Yapko is a retired lawyer whose poetry has appeared in over fifty journals. He is the winner of the 2023 SCP International Poetry Competition. Brian is also the author of several short stories, the science fiction novel El Nuevo Mundo and the gothic archaeological novel Bleeding Stone. He lives in Wimauma, Florida. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. ***Read Our Comments Policy Here*** 46 Responses Bruce Phenix June 8, 2025 Thank you, Brian. A very moving and imaginative response to this strangely inspiring story. Your tenth verse is exquisite! Best wishes, Bruce Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much, Bruce. “Strangely inspiring” is what grabbed me about Hiroo Onoda’s tale. Glad you liked it. Best wishes back. Reply Roy Eugene Peterson June 8, 2025 I am flabbergasted, first, that you extracted this compelling story from history; second, that you wrote such a detailed and moving poem; and third, the sensitivity to Japanese tradition and culture including such things as the inherent and perfectly explained military equipment and thoughts combined with the coconut husk teacup and the brewing of tea from the only available leaves found in the forest. I remember reading this story in the 1970’s and deepening the feeling of faith in my own country and sense of unrelenting duty. Such a masterful poem is deserving of unstinting praise. Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much indeed, Roy. I must say that this poem required some real effort to try to imagine Onoda’s life day after day for 30 years. Onoda presented a real psychological puzzle for me. Many a lesser man would have allowed himself to devolve into savagery. Not only did I have to explain how Onoda remained civilized but how he retained his sense of duty and patriotism. And then I had to come up with a reason why February, 1974 was different from any other time between 1944 and 1974. I’m glad that you approved of my creative decisions in exploring some of these questions. There are so many lessons about discipline and boundaries and self-respect and love of country that can be gleaned from Onoda’s story (far above and beyond this small poetic imagining.) Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 A further, separate note to you, Roy, to thank you for being the indirect impetus for the creation of this poem. It was in the discussion thread of your excellent poem “Truth Streaked Across the Sky” in November, 2024 that the subject of accepting the truth came up which, in turn, led to a brief consideration of those remarkable Japanese soldiers who did not accept that Japan had lost the war. That’s when I took up Dr. Salemi’s suggestion of a dramatic monologue on that subject. That’s one of the awesome things about the comments section on this site. It can lead to all kinds of subject matter, educational discussion and potential poetic inspiration. Reply Warren Bonham June 8, 2025 I had heard of this story but knew none of the details behind it. This was an extraordinarily well-crafted poem that brings an amazing story to life. Thanks so much for sharing this. Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you so much, Warren! I really enjoyed the process of writing for this unusual speaker. Reply Mike Bryant June 8, 2025 Wow, Brian, you have outdone yourself. You have honored this true soldier with this beautiful and detailed remembrance. You’ve captured the tragic dignity of a man so bound by duty that he fights on long after the war is over. It’s a haunting meditation on how tradition and authority can shape and imprison a person—just like the caged bird, Reiko-san. We often romanticize unwavering loyalty, but the poem forces us to question whether true honor lies in blind obedience or in having the courage to let go and reclaim your freedom. In the end, maybe the bravest act isn’t holding the line forever, but knowing when to lay down your arms and finally fly. Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much for this insightful and appreciative reading, Mike. You are right to view this poem as a meditation — I found it well-nigh impossible to address the mindset of Onoda with any type of logical approach, so I approached this character obliquely — the routine things he does to survive, the random things he thinks, the things he must do to hold on to his Japanese soul. I found that the introduction of the Japanese wren kept in a cage (a common pet in Japan which also has a range in the northern Philippines) helped me solve some poetic problems by providing a silent interlocutor and by providing a metaphor for Onoda’s own situation. That made the decision to free the bird a meaningful foreshadowing of Onoda’s (undescribed) decision to surrender and (ironically) free himself. Your thoughts regarding whether it is braver to accept reality as opposed to maintaining obedience (I’m not sure if it’s blind or not) are spot-on. Either way, I wanted the reader to develop a sympathy for this unusually brave and honorable character and his unexpected history. That you feel I have honored him means a great deal to me. Reply Michael Vanyukov June 8, 2025 A very authentic-sounding exploration of the power of human illusions. Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much, Michael! It’s hard for me to criticize Onoda for holding onto his illusions. His distance from reality was not caused by insanity but by his unwillingness to infer certain unpleasant facts in a context where he had very limited information and could only piece together from fragments what was happening in the outside world. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave may be apposite. So Onoda held onto the illusion of a Japan fighting World War II because a) he did not have what he considered adequate evidence to the contrary; and b) for him to not concede was a matter of honor. As Mike Bryant notes, sometimes it’s a hard call as to what is following blind obedience versus honorably cleaving to a commitment — even when that commitment may no longer have real meaning. Onoda represents a fascinating case study with much to admire but no easy explanations or interpretations. Reply Joseph S. Salemi June 8, 2025 There were many Japanese soldiers like Hiroo Onoda. They had sworn to fight and die for the Emperor, had received no orders otherwise, and had no knowledge that the war was over. There were stories (and even some TV dramatizations) about them as early as the 1950s. Some lived in small groups, and others lived alone, but all had to live by their wits and survival skills They were seen only fitfully when they came out from jungles or mountainous areas, to forage for food and supplies, often in ragged uniforms. I’m amazed that Onoda still had 500 rounds of ammo and some grenades when he emerged from hiding in 1974. Most of these soldiers had used up all their ammo decades earlier. Brian’s poem is deeply moving, in what it says about loyalty, courage, fierce attachment to one’s cultural and historical identity, and sheer manly grit. No matter where he was or what he was forced to do, Onoda remained Japanese, right to the marrow of his bones. The fact that he could not live in a debased and degraded modern Japan after his surrender is a testament to his integrity and honor. The poem’s depiction of Onoda’s pet bird, and about the improvised tea ceremony, and the man’s vivid memories of his homeland and his village, all work together to make a seamless robe of dramatic monologue. The freeing of Reiko-san, as a preliminary to Onoda’s decision to surrender, is perfectly done. I was touched by this poem and its story, in the same way that I am when I think of the epitaph of the 300 Spartans who died at Thermopylae: “Stranger, go tell the Spartans that we lie here, obedient to their orders.” Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Joe, many thanks for this instructive and sensitive comment. First and foremost, I owe you thanks for suggesting Hiroo Onoda as the subject of a dramatic monologue (as noted above in my response to Lt. Peterson.) I had misunderstood the grit required by Japanese soldiers such as Onoda to hold on to their mission, their culture, their honor — even at the risk of their lives. On your suggestion, I did quite a bit of research about Onoda and found him to be fascinating — not at all delusional but very meticulous in demanding compelling proof that Japan had surrendered — in a context where the availability of such proof was truly minimal (leaflets, untrustworthy enemy spies, etc.) As a said to Michael Vanyukov, I see this as a real-life experience of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave where only minimal information gets through and the subject must make of it what he will. Onoda made of it that he must carry on and fight and honor his nation and culture no matter what. To me that is highly honorable conduct rather than delusional. If I had wanted to write about delusional characters (and I have done so from time to time) history is replete with such characters. What was attractive to me about Onoda was his strong sense of identity — his loyalty to Japan (not just loyalty — deep love and respect.) His sense of duty. His sense of honor. All of the things that you mention in your comment which you found to be moving. I agree fully. But I was also happy to give my fictionalized version of this man a more nuanced inner life as well — a warrior, yes, but sensitive enough to rescue a bird and enjoy her singing. Someone who is good at hoarding and using ammunition but who can also carve a teacup from a coconut. It was very important to my fictionalized Onoda to give him a strong sense of cultural identity and respect for the Japanese aesthetic we Westerners generally notice — the love of Fuji, the delight in blossoms, the special attention to water features. And all of this came together for me in the Tea Ceremony. And, what was especially emblematic for me of this man’s complex nature was the use of the dagger which his mother gave him to kill himself with (!) being used to grind the tea leaves into matcha. Onoda has become a true samurai warrior in my imagination — one who can kill and weep, meditate and shoot., bury a friend and nurture a wounded bird. In other words, a poet’s dream. Your mention of the Spartans is deeply moving to me. A man who can remain obedient to his orders, even unto death (like the Roman guard during the Vesuvius eruption) is a man of true valor. That is, someone to be truly honored and celebrated. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant June 8, 2025 Brian, I am in awe of this haunting, deeply moving, and exquisite poem that taps into the power and significance of culture as the culture of the Western world is being torn to shreds. There are so many layers to peel back and explore, but the first thing that strikes me is the echo of Japanese literary tradition – the plum blossoms, maple trees and Mt. Fuji, bring to mind the aesthetics of haiku and tanka which often concentrate on nature and fleeting beauty. I love the motif of the tea ceremony… a sort of spiritual and symbolic cleansing. I also love the symbolism of the caged bird. I’m intrigued by the poem’s structure – it appears to focus on repetition with the echo of memory in the repetition of one end-of-line word being repeated at the beginning of a following line throughout… until the closing stanza. Loyalty, honor, and personal sacrifice are to the fore making the closing couplet all the more poignant and powerful. For me, this “Soldier of the Rising Sun” tells us to never forget who we are – a heart-touching reminder to remember who we were and who we are as history is being erased. It also tells me to look beyond cruel and fallible rulers for true answers… but I fear I’ve already said too much. Brian, thank you for this poetic marvel. Reply Cheryl A Corey June 8, 2025 I’d like to compliment you, Susan, regarding your keen eye concerning the structure of Brian’s poem and his subtle use of word repetition. I never would have noticed it had you not pointed it out! Reply Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Susan, I’m absolutely thrilled that you enjoyed this poem and even found it to be haunting. I’ve been haunted by Onoda ever since I first began to learn of him and the extraordinary life that he lived. You are absolutely spot-on concerning the character quality which drew me to him — his love of his culture — his commitment to it, his willing to die for it. And, yes, his love of his identity, culture and history is an oblique criticism of the demonization of Western culture. Why can’t we in the West be like Onoda? I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Japan, but I have found it to be a country utterly unique in its ability to balance the modern world while holding onto its traditional culture. Shinto shrines are everywhere. People where kimonos walking on the sidewalks and it is not meant as cosplay or irony. They truly love their history and their culture and because of that love they get to retain it. Imagine if in the UK or Washington D.C. people actually valued their history enough to protect and preserve it. And not sell it off to the highest bidder or to a liberal ideology that demands cultural suicide as the price of a virtue signal. There’s so much more I could say on this subject so perhaps I should leave off here. On the subject of the poem’s structure, thank you so much for noticing what I attempted! The form of the poem is as follows: Each stanza is comprised of six lines (reputedly a special number in Japanese culture — for good and for bad) of blank verse. However, each stanza contains one rhyming couplet and each stanza contains one “echo word or phrase.” A repetition of the last word of the prior line but with a new meaning of context in the echo line leading right into the most critical closing couplet: “I weep but I am certain who I am:/I am Onoda. I am Japanese”. The reason I created this nonce form was that I wanted to have the poem be reasonably free since it is the meditation of a soldier who lives in the wild yet maintains discipline. I wanted it to nonetheless have some structure because order in Japan matters; and I wanted the echo device to be embedded in each stanza because Japanese poetry (as you’ve observed) can seem exotic with certain repetitions, etc. That slight echo, for me, was actually inspired by the pantoum form which is Malaysian rather than Japanese but which suggested to me that strategic repetitions can impart a slightly foreign sound to the piece. Along with the form, I decided to make the entire poem in the present tense and to use certain semi-awkward formalities (“I beg a question…”) to make it seem almost as if it were a translation into English. All that being said, there’s nothing authentically Japanese about my poem from a form or language standpoint. I would categorize this as “inspired by” Japanese culture much the way “Madame Butterfly” is, or as the “The King and I” is “inspired by” Siamese culture. Thank you, Susan, for your appreciation and for allowing me to discuss the form and language! And most of all, thanks and appreciation for your love and loyalty to our beloved Western culture! Reply Mark Stellinga June 8, 2025 Bravo, Brian, for so beautifully portraying a piece of history depicting such incredible courage, devotion and sacrifice… an unalterable devotion seen so seldom it defies credibility. An absolutely fascinating read. OUTSTANDING JOB! Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much, Mark. You describe it so well… “an unalterable devotion seen so seldom it defies credibility.” Just so. Reply Yael June 8, 2025 This is a great story-telling poem which perfectly intertwines scenes and symbols with historical facts, anecdotes and antecedents to provide a very edifying reading experience. Thank you Brian, I enjoyed this a lot. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much, Yael. I’m so glad you enjoyed the poem and the attempt to interweave many things internal and external, past and present for my fictionalized characterizzation of this unique historical figure! Reply Cheryl A Corey June 8, 2025 Brian, this is a captivating poem, all the more so since it’s based on a true story; but how is it that some thirty years passed before he was found? Were no other efforts made to try and find him? Reply Joseph S. Salemi June 8, 2025 Philippine jungles are intricately dense, and often trackless. A resolute soldier can hide in them for years without being found. Also, the soldiers did not want to be found. They assumed that they were still under orders, and they expected to fight until they were relieved, or until they were killed. The postwar Japanese government dropped leaflets wherever they thought there might be Japanese military holdouts, telling them that the war was over and urging them to surrender. Onoda and his companions saw some of these leaflets, but decided that they were propaganda by the enemy, designed to trick them. Hiroo Onoda was the kind of Japanese male that the writer Yukio Mishima hoped still existed. When Mishima discovered that this was not the case, he committed ritual suicide. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you for this additional and insightful information about Onoda and his mindset along with those of his surrender hold-outs. Even more, thank you for the introduction to Yukio Mishima. I had never heard of this fascinating figure who Wikipedia summarizes as “a Japanese author, poet, playwright, actor, model, Shintoist, ultranationalist, and the leader of an attempted coup d’état that culminated in his seppuku (ritual suicide). I have much reading to do regarding this extremely interesting man who, it seems, truly marched to his own drum. In fact, he may well be a good subject for a future poem. Joseph S. Salemi June 12, 2025 Brian, read the short story “Patriotism” by Yukio Mishima. You’ll be hooked on him forever. Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much, Cheryl! I appreciate your kind words along with your question. Joe answers this question well, and I would add in the fact that Onoda was engaged in guerilla warfare. He was actively hiding from “the enemy” not realizing that the war had been over for some time. I will quote an entry from Wikipedia to give you some sense of his mindset — at least in the early days during the late 1940s: “While in hiding, Onoda and his companions continued their mission, carrying out guerrilla activities, surviving on bananas, coconuts, stolen rice and cattle, and on several occasions engaging in shootouts with locals and the police. They successfully evaded American and Filipino search parties, and attacked villagers whom they believed to be enemy guerrillas. The first time Onoda’s group saw a leaflet announcing that Japan had surrendered was in October 1945; a separate group of Japanese holdouts showed them a note left behind by islanders that read: “The war ended on 15 August. Come down from the mountains!” The men concluded that the leaflet was Allied propaganda, and reasoned that they would not have been fired on before if the war had ended. Near the end of 1945, leaflets with a surrender order from General Tomoyuki Yamashita of the Japanese Fourteenth Area Army were dropped by air on Lubang. Onoda’s group studied them to determine whether they were genuine, and decided they were not.” As his group grew smaller and smaller — all the way down to one man — Onoda noted that the news which he received of the surrender was all one-sided (coming from “the enemy”) and probably fabricated. Talk about devotion! Reply Margaret Coats June 9, 2025 Brian, you’ve created an amazingly sensitive poem dealing with several interests in this particular man’s life. The first question I had when hearing of these holdouts was what they felt their mission was. An authentic military man does not just hold onto “never surrender” as his purpose. You’ve made it clear (though it’s not absolutely central in your story) that Onoda felt he had the mission of holding a position. The jungle outpost was the place he was responsible for. This is, however, problematic to do when alone–but for many years Onoda had companions. He finally lost the last human one to Filipino forces who had become the enemy in the long drawn out battle to maintain his guerrilla camp. After that, the bird substituted, first as a wounded friend needing care. But birds have short lives, and once Onoda knew Reiko would be able to fly, he begins to entertain doubts about his mission that a more rational loyalty might have suggested earlier. You do well to show him conscious of the length of time and of the likelihood he is simply left behind. And in your last stanza, you show the man’s identity as Japanese becoming his ultimate mission. In fact, the detailed narrative of parting with Reiko after tea is the ritual reinforcing this identity. It’s very well done. The Way of Tea is meant to establish serenity, and I must say that my first reading of the poem found calm as the principal emotion of the piece. Another reading brought into focus all the little disturbing elements that a man who remains sane must suppress. But you end with Onoda alone capable of meeting Suzuki and still not breaking camp–though he is capable of surrender when the order comes. You also do really well in almost never questioning why the order did not come for nearly 30 years. What about that question of a commanding officer (field grade or emperor) leaving subordinates without communication for an inordinate and indefinite time? We can comprehend the compassion shown to this “tattered soul” when his still living commander is brought from Japan to tell him to surrender. That’s not part of your poem, but you do have him wonder strangely if the emperor will send for him–and if he wants Onoda to return. Again to depart from your poem, the Showa emperor reigned until 1989, so it was the very same “breathing god” the cadet had been commissioned to serve. Below the surface, but I would say still within the poem, lies the consideration of sanity. Indeed, you have Onoda ask if there can be too much faith. We readers are glad this tattered soul could preserve honor in the ceremony of official surrender. But we can ask whether it was truly the virtue of loyalty, or the fantasy of an exaggerated sense of self–or of following mistakenly idealistic training. I might have said reason, and individual freedom with it, have a different place in the Japanese culture Onoda learned than in Western civilization. About the matter of Onoda’s dislike for Japan as he found it in the 1970s, there is the Japanese “inferiority complex” supposed by some to have developed after defeat in the war. People still talk about it, though there are different opinions about the timeline and the rationale behind it, if it exists at all. Some might say the training Onoda underwent, and to which he lived up, was a response to Japan feeling inferior when it was opened to the world after centuries of isolation. That was part of successful modernization (although it was still culturally conditioned) to avoid colonization. Anyway, you’ve written this poem with a degree of reticence that develops reader interest even beyond the situation that is your topic. It’s apparent in the form and in too many details to mention individually. And in the emotion called forth. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much, Margaret. You observations provide meaningful insight into the psychology of Onoda – his actions, the values he demonstrates. I never actually questioned his sanity for his resolute discipline and clearly intense valuation of his Japanese identity and culture seemed to me both sane and deeply invested in honor and patriotism. I’m glad you saw the overall emotional tone of the piece as one of “calm” as that is exactly what I was striving for – a meditative poem which covers 30 years of high drama and long doldrums. The inferiority complex you describe is not something I am familiar with. I rather think of Onoda returning to Japan and finding it utterly commercialized and dissolute in its values. I imagine what it would be like for a patriotic American from 1945 to time travel to the U.S. of 2025. His disgust would be so profound he would probably look for contentment elsewhere. Reply Laura Schwartz June 9, 2025 Brian, I’m once again moved by your tapestry of imagery and emotion—a journey that melds nature with war. I could envision the ritual of Lt. Onoda’s MacGyver-esq tea-making, worry about Reiko-san’s fate, and still feel your evocative declarations of Onoda’s compelling honor, both on personal and historical levels. You invited us to not only witness, but deeply feel the interplay of past and present. This poem did more than paint a scene; you immortalized Lt. Onoda’s spirit, challenging us to confront our own struggles and the legacy of our choices. Magnificent. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much indeed, Laura. I laughed at your description of the MacGyver tea-making — that’s exactly what it was! A complete improvisation using what was at hand in the jungle. And I had great fun conceiving and writing that little scene. I’m so glad you feel I’ve immortalized Onoda’s spirit. I’ve come to hold this man in great esteem. Reply Christian Muller June 10, 2025 Journalist Dan Carlin observed that the Japanese in WW2 were “just like us but more so”. It is so easy based on contemporary understanding to dehumanise the Japanese armed forces during WW2, it is too easy to forget their personal struggles. Read a few diary entries from Japanese soldiers, and it was amazing how conflicted and nuanced their thoughts were. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much for this sensitive comment, Christian. You are so right about the nuance and the personal struggles. Along these lines, I highly recommend a movie called “Letters from Iwo Jima” — directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Ken Watanabe. It tells the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese point of view and is both surprising and moving. Reply C.B. Anderson June 10, 2025 The practice here of using intermittent end rhyme is something I have rarely encountered, and is a nice touch that saves the poem from being completely blank. I can’t imagine what herb I might find around here as a substitute for tea, which is an essential part of my morning routine. I was told by a native German woman that in WWII they had to roast beechnuts as a coffee substitute — ersatz! Since then I have looked for this elusive kernel but always came up empty. Reply Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you for reading and commenting C.B. — as I mentioned to Susan above, I was looking for a nonce form that would be intelligible to a Western classical poet, but which might offer suggestions of Asia and a certain foreign quality. The couplets and the echo word were my attempt to make it not simple blank verse — something I felt would be too Western if unmodified for a speaker so infused with Japanese sensibility. War-time culinary improvisations have led to some interesting cuisines. Currywurst became a huge part of fast food in Germany after World War II and the British occupation forces introduced Indian spices. In Hawaii, Spam has become ubiquitous and an essential ingredient because of military rations after Pearl Harbor. And in the South, chicory coffee has become quite a staple — a result of coffee beans being unavailable as the result of the Union blockade of Confederate ports during the Civil War (or as they sometimes call it down thisaway, “the War of Northern Aggression.”) Reply Brian Yapko June 10, 2025 Thank you all for the generous responses to this poem on Hiroo Onoda’s amazing story. I plan to reply to each of your comments individually but have been sidelined for the last several days by covid. I’m not quite back to feeling alert enough to write anything meaningful but will be very soon. Another day or so and I’ll be back. Thank you for being patient. Reply Brian Yapko June 13, 2025 Respecting Hiroo Onoda, I just came across this fascinating Youtube video of his life and experiences in the jungle. It’s well worth a brief watch. https://youtu.be/N3FHeBnTnVs?si=IMyJE9cBA393E6Kg Reply Mike Bryant June 14, 2025 Brian, Susan and I just watched this eight minute video and we found it well worth watching for the additional insights into Onoda’s unbreakable integrity. Onoda was a real man and a true believer. Reply Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 “A true believer” is an interesting insight, Mike. I found this message of faith which was inspired by Onoda’s story. I thought you and Susan might find it interesting. https://www.wisdomonline.org/blog/the-final-invitation-to-drink-from-living-water?lang=English&srsltid=AfmBOoriXHpY-ZPnKT6HsDLDN3jRD2w5BHsExtsE9A-klYW6T46fzXUE Mike Bryant June 14, 2025 That’s very interesting, Brian. I haven’t shared it with Susan yet… she’s buried in a poetic storm of inspiration! However, it is a thoughtful take on Hiroo’s experiences. You mentioned Isaac Newton yesterday… he was like Onoda in some ways… a stranger in an even stranger land, he was fighting his own battles and he was definitely a true believer. Brian Yapko June 16, 2025 Mike, it’s funny that you mention Sir Isaac Newton being a “stranger in a strange land.” Look at this article that I just came across with that exact point of view! https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7712672/ And if he were alive today his “strange” theories would probably go nowhere because of academic pride and politics. Mike Bryant June 16, 2025 I disagree with the article’s contention that Newton would be out of place scientifically. In fact, I’m sure that Newton would be at the forefront of every insight into reality today. Chaos theory is simply a refinement that fits well within his laws. Newton was an early proponent of scientific methodology that has, in most cases, been sidelined by what passes for Science today. Feynman laid out the scientific method in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYPapE-3FRw&t=1s Newton is the giant, Feynman and any who follow Newton’s methodology are, of course, only building on his work. When I said that Newton would be in a strange land today, I meant he would be railing against the pseudoscience that is everywhere. Newton would not be able to get a grant. Brian Yapko June 13, 2025 And in this video we see Hiroo Onoda return to Japan where he is — unbelievably — greeted by his mother and father who have waited for his return these many years. The pride in his parents’ faces is palpable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS0K-WHZOXE Reply Joseph S. Salemi June 14, 2025 Brian, I watched the video and saw the reunion of Onoda with his still-living mom and dad when he got off the plane. His parents beamed with pride and joy when all three came face to face, but none of them broke into tears, or embraced, or kissed. This shocked me, but then I thought perhaps public displays of emotion are not considered appropriate in Japanese culture. Reply Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 I know from visiting Japan that public displays of affection are deeply frowned upon. I would imagine that a public display of any emotional outburst would be considered indiscrete and disrespectful. It is in some ways a very stoic culture! Margaret Coats June 14, 2025 The public sign of honor or recognition and even of affection is a bow, and bows have varying levels. Notice that the woman at the foot of the airway steps (her place indicates she is some sort of official greeter) makes a pronounced bow to Onoda, which he returns. What surprises me is that Onoda’s father makes several nodding bows to him, and Onoda almost belatedly tips his head in return. This is more honor than would be expected from a parent to a son–and it is unexpectedly initiated by the parent rather than by the son. The mother makes a slight nod of her head, and in this short video clip, Onoda does not return it. Probably he does afterward. I have to say from years of living in Japan that this may indicate the mother is too emotional to trust herself, or that she is less able to bow (she is brought out in a wheelchair). Body language is the thing to watch! Adam Sedia June 14, 2025 Another great dramatic monologue — and I’d be hard-pressed to imagine a subject more fitting for the genre. The story of Lt. Onoda is infamous (though I never hear his name referenced in the story) as an example of fanaticism and extreme devotion to a cause. You probe his hypothetical psychology and humanize it, making it relatable. Orders are orders. We get caught up in our routine. There, but for the grace of God, go any of us. Thank you. Reply Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 Thank you so much, Adam! Onoda took his “orders are orders” to a level it would be hard to surpass. For me it was a challenge to probe his hypothetical psychology (a good reminder that my version of him is fictionalized) and I’m sure I got many things wrong. But I believe the patriotism, the grit, the resourcefulness and the confidence in his identity would be there under any circumstance. I admire him but would not want to attempt what he did. There but for the grace of God indeed! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Bruce Phenix June 8, 2025 Thank you, Brian. A very moving and imaginative response to this strangely inspiring story. Your tenth verse is exquisite! Best wishes, Bruce Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much, Bruce. “Strangely inspiring” is what grabbed me about Hiroo Onoda’s tale. Glad you liked it. Best wishes back. Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson June 8, 2025 I am flabbergasted, first, that you extracted this compelling story from history; second, that you wrote such a detailed and moving poem; and third, the sensitivity to Japanese tradition and culture including such things as the inherent and perfectly explained military equipment and thoughts combined with the coconut husk teacup and the brewing of tea from the only available leaves found in the forest. I remember reading this story in the 1970’s and deepening the feeling of faith in my own country and sense of unrelenting duty. Such a masterful poem is deserving of unstinting praise. Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much indeed, Roy. I must say that this poem required some real effort to try to imagine Onoda’s life day after day for 30 years. Onoda presented a real psychological puzzle for me. Many a lesser man would have allowed himself to devolve into savagery. Not only did I have to explain how Onoda remained civilized but how he retained his sense of duty and patriotism. And then I had to come up with a reason why February, 1974 was different from any other time between 1944 and 1974. I’m glad that you approved of my creative decisions in exploring some of these questions. There are so many lessons about discipline and boundaries and self-respect and love of country that can be gleaned from Onoda’s story (far above and beyond this small poetic imagining.) Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 A further, separate note to you, Roy, to thank you for being the indirect impetus for the creation of this poem. It was in the discussion thread of your excellent poem “Truth Streaked Across the Sky” in November, 2024 that the subject of accepting the truth came up which, in turn, led to a brief consideration of those remarkable Japanese soldiers who did not accept that Japan had lost the war. That’s when I took up Dr. Salemi’s suggestion of a dramatic monologue on that subject. That’s one of the awesome things about the comments section on this site. It can lead to all kinds of subject matter, educational discussion and potential poetic inspiration. Reply
Warren Bonham June 8, 2025 I had heard of this story but knew none of the details behind it. This was an extraordinarily well-crafted poem that brings an amazing story to life. Thanks so much for sharing this. Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you so much, Warren! I really enjoyed the process of writing for this unusual speaker. Reply
Mike Bryant June 8, 2025 Wow, Brian, you have outdone yourself. You have honored this true soldier with this beautiful and detailed remembrance. You’ve captured the tragic dignity of a man so bound by duty that he fights on long after the war is over. It’s a haunting meditation on how tradition and authority can shape and imprison a person—just like the caged bird, Reiko-san. We often romanticize unwavering loyalty, but the poem forces us to question whether true honor lies in blind obedience or in having the courage to let go and reclaim your freedom. In the end, maybe the bravest act isn’t holding the line forever, but knowing when to lay down your arms and finally fly. Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much for this insightful and appreciative reading, Mike. You are right to view this poem as a meditation — I found it well-nigh impossible to address the mindset of Onoda with any type of logical approach, so I approached this character obliquely — the routine things he does to survive, the random things he thinks, the things he must do to hold on to his Japanese soul. I found that the introduction of the Japanese wren kept in a cage (a common pet in Japan which also has a range in the northern Philippines) helped me solve some poetic problems by providing a silent interlocutor and by providing a metaphor for Onoda’s own situation. That made the decision to free the bird a meaningful foreshadowing of Onoda’s (undescribed) decision to surrender and (ironically) free himself. Your thoughts regarding whether it is braver to accept reality as opposed to maintaining obedience (I’m not sure if it’s blind or not) are spot-on. Either way, I wanted the reader to develop a sympathy for this unusually brave and honorable character and his unexpected history. That you feel I have honored him means a great deal to me. Reply
Michael Vanyukov June 8, 2025 A very authentic-sounding exploration of the power of human illusions. Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Thank you very much, Michael! It’s hard for me to criticize Onoda for holding onto his illusions. His distance from reality was not caused by insanity but by his unwillingness to infer certain unpleasant facts in a context where he had very limited information and could only piece together from fragments what was happening in the outside world. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave may be apposite. So Onoda held onto the illusion of a Japan fighting World War II because a) he did not have what he considered adequate evidence to the contrary; and b) for him to not concede was a matter of honor. As Mike Bryant notes, sometimes it’s a hard call as to what is following blind obedience versus honorably cleaving to a commitment — even when that commitment may no longer have real meaning. Onoda represents a fascinating case study with much to admire but no easy explanations or interpretations. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi June 8, 2025 There were many Japanese soldiers like Hiroo Onoda. They had sworn to fight and die for the Emperor, had received no orders otherwise, and had no knowledge that the war was over. There were stories (and even some TV dramatizations) about them as early as the 1950s. Some lived in small groups, and others lived alone, but all had to live by their wits and survival skills They were seen only fitfully when they came out from jungles or mountainous areas, to forage for food and supplies, often in ragged uniforms. I’m amazed that Onoda still had 500 rounds of ammo and some grenades when he emerged from hiding in 1974. Most of these soldiers had used up all their ammo decades earlier. Brian’s poem is deeply moving, in what it says about loyalty, courage, fierce attachment to one’s cultural and historical identity, and sheer manly grit. No matter where he was or what he was forced to do, Onoda remained Japanese, right to the marrow of his bones. The fact that he could not live in a debased and degraded modern Japan after his surrender is a testament to his integrity and honor. The poem’s depiction of Onoda’s pet bird, and about the improvised tea ceremony, and the man’s vivid memories of his homeland and his village, all work together to make a seamless robe of dramatic monologue. The freeing of Reiko-san, as a preliminary to Onoda’s decision to surrender, is perfectly done. I was touched by this poem and its story, in the same way that I am when I think of the epitaph of the 300 Spartans who died at Thermopylae: “Stranger, go tell the Spartans that we lie here, obedient to their orders.” Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Joe, many thanks for this instructive and sensitive comment. First and foremost, I owe you thanks for suggesting Hiroo Onoda as the subject of a dramatic monologue (as noted above in my response to Lt. Peterson.) I had misunderstood the grit required by Japanese soldiers such as Onoda to hold on to their mission, their culture, their honor — even at the risk of their lives. On your suggestion, I did quite a bit of research about Onoda and found him to be fascinating — not at all delusional but very meticulous in demanding compelling proof that Japan had surrendered — in a context where the availability of such proof was truly minimal (leaflets, untrustworthy enemy spies, etc.) As a said to Michael Vanyukov, I see this as a real-life experience of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave where only minimal information gets through and the subject must make of it what he will. Onoda made of it that he must carry on and fight and honor his nation and culture no matter what. To me that is highly honorable conduct rather than delusional. If I had wanted to write about delusional characters (and I have done so from time to time) history is replete with such characters. What was attractive to me about Onoda was his strong sense of identity — his loyalty to Japan (not just loyalty — deep love and respect.) His sense of duty. His sense of honor. All of the things that you mention in your comment which you found to be moving. I agree fully. But I was also happy to give my fictionalized version of this man a more nuanced inner life as well — a warrior, yes, but sensitive enough to rescue a bird and enjoy her singing. Someone who is good at hoarding and using ammunition but who can also carve a teacup from a coconut. It was very important to my fictionalized Onoda to give him a strong sense of cultural identity and respect for the Japanese aesthetic we Westerners generally notice — the love of Fuji, the delight in blossoms, the special attention to water features. And all of this came together for me in the Tea Ceremony. And, what was especially emblematic for me of this man’s complex nature was the use of the dagger which his mother gave him to kill himself with (!) being used to grind the tea leaves into matcha. Onoda has become a true samurai warrior in my imagination — one who can kill and weep, meditate and shoot., bury a friend and nurture a wounded bird. In other words, a poet’s dream. Your mention of the Spartans is deeply moving to me. A man who can remain obedient to his orders, even unto death (like the Roman guard during the Vesuvius eruption) is a man of true valor. That is, someone to be truly honored and celebrated. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant June 8, 2025 Brian, I am in awe of this haunting, deeply moving, and exquisite poem that taps into the power and significance of culture as the culture of the Western world is being torn to shreds. There are so many layers to peel back and explore, but the first thing that strikes me is the echo of Japanese literary tradition – the plum blossoms, maple trees and Mt. Fuji, bring to mind the aesthetics of haiku and tanka which often concentrate on nature and fleeting beauty. I love the motif of the tea ceremony… a sort of spiritual and symbolic cleansing. I also love the symbolism of the caged bird. I’m intrigued by the poem’s structure – it appears to focus on repetition with the echo of memory in the repetition of one end-of-line word being repeated at the beginning of a following line throughout… until the closing stanza. Loyalty, honor, and personal sacrifice are to the fore making the closing couplet all the more poignant and powerful. For me, this “Soldier of the Rising Sun” tells us to never forget who we are – a heart-touching reminder to remember who we were and who we are as history is being erased. It also tells me to look beyond cruel and fallible rulers for true answers… but I fear I’ve already said too much. Brian, thank you for this poetic marvel. Reply
Cheryl A Corey June 8, 2025 I’d like to compliment you, Susan, regarding your keen eye concerning the structure of Brian’s poem and his subtle use of word repetition. I never would have noticed it had you not pointed it out! Reply
Brian Yapko June 11, 2025 Susan, I’m absolutely thrilled that you enjoyed this poem and even found it to be haunting. I’ve been haunted by Onoda ever since I first began to learn of him and the extraordinary life that he lived. You are absolutely spot-on concerning the character quality which drew me to him — his love of his culture — his commitment to it, his willing to die for it. And, yes, his love of his identity, culture and history is an oblique criticism of the demonization of Western culture. Why can’t we in the West be like Onoda? I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Japan, but I have found it to be a country utterly unique in its ability to balance the modern world while holding onto its traditional culture. Shinto shrines are everywhere. People where kimonos walking on the sidewalks and it is not meant as cosplay or irony. They truly love their history and their culture and because of that love they get to retain it. Imagine if in the UK or Washington D.C. people actually valued their history enough to protect and preserve it. And not sell it off to the highest bidder or to a liberal ideology that demands cultural suicide as the price of a virtue signal. There’s so much more I could say on this subject so perhaps I should leave off here. On the subject of the poem’s structure, thank you so much for noticing what I attempted! The form of the poem is as follows: Each stanza is comprised of six lines (reputedly a special number in Japanese culture — for good and for bad) of blank verse. However, each stanza contains one rhyming couplet and each stanza contains one “echo word or phrase.” A repetition of the last word of the prior line but with a new meaning of context in the echo line leading right into the most critical closing couplet: “I weep but I am certain who I am:/I am Onoda. I am Japanese”. The reason I created this nonce form was that I wanted to have the poem be reasonably free since it is the meditation of a soldier who lives in the wild yet maintains discipline. I wanted it to nonetheless have some structure because order in Japan matters; and I wanted the echo device to be embedded in each stanza because Japanese poetry (as you’ve observed) can seem exotic with certain repetitions, etc. That slight echo, for me, was actually inspired by the pantoum form which is Malaysian rather than Japanese but which suggested to me that strategic repetitions can impart a slightly foreign sound to the piece. Along with the form, I decided to make the entire poem in the present tense and to use certain semi-awkward formalities (“I beg a question…”) to make it seem almost as if it were a translation into English. All that being said, there’s nothing authentically Japanese about my poem from a form or language standpoint. I would categorize this as “inspired by” Japanese culture much the way “Madame Butterfly” is, or as the “The King and I” is “inspired by” Siamese culture. Thank you, Susan, for your appreciation and for allowing me to discuss the form and language! And most of all, thanks and appreciation for your love and loyalty to our beloved Western culture! Reply
Mark Stellinga June 8, 2025 Bravo, Brian, for so beautifully portraying a piece of history depicting such incredible courage, devotion and sacrifice… an unalterable devotion seen so seldom it defies credibility. An absolutely fascinating read. OUTSTANDING JOB! Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much, Mark. You describe it so well… “an unalterable devotion seen so seldom it defies credibility.” Just so. Reply
Yael June 8, 2025 This is a great story-telling poem which perfectly intertwines scenes and symbols with historical facts, anecdotes and antecedents to provide a very edifying reading experience. Thank you Brian, I enjoyed this a lot. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much, Yael. I’m so glad you enjoyed the poem and the attempt to interweave many things internal and external, past and present for my fictionalized characterizzation of this unique historical figure! Reply
Cheryl A Corey June 8, 2025 Brian, this is a captivating poem, all the more so since it’s based on a true story; but how is it that some thirty years passed before he was found? Were no other efforts made to try and find him? Reply
Joseph S. Salemi June 8, 2025 Philippine jungles are intricately dense, and often trackless. A resolute soldier can hide in them for years without being found. Also, the soldiers did not want to be found. They assumed that they were still under orders, and they expected to fight until they were relieved, or until they were killed. The postwar Japanese government dropped leaflets wherever they thought there might be Japanese military holdouts, telling them that the war was over and urging them to surrender. Onoda and his companions saw some of these leaflets, but decided that they were propaganda by the enemy, designed to trick them. Hiroo Onoda was the kind of Japanese male that the writer Yukio Mishima hoped still existed. When Mishima discovered that this was not the case, he committed ritual suicide. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you for this additional and insightful information about Onoda and his mindset along with those of his surrender hold-outs. Even more, thank you for the introduction to Yukio Mishima. I had never heard of this fascinating figure who Wikipedia summarizes as “a Japanese author, poet, playwright, actor, model, Shintoist, ultranationalist, and the leader of an attempted coup d’état that culminated in his seppuku (ritual suicide). I have much reading to do regarding this extremely interesting man who, it seems, truly marched to his own drum. In fact, he may well be a good subject for a future poem.
Joseph S. Salemi June 12, 2025 Brian, read the short story “Patriotism” by Yukio Mishima. You’ll be hooked on him forever.
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much, Cheryl! I appreciate your kind words along with your question. Joe answers this question well, and I would add in the fact that Onoda was engaged in guerilla warfare. He was actively hiding from “the enemy” not realizing that the war had been over for some time. I will quote an entry from Wikipedia to give you some sense of his mindset — at least in the early days during the late 1940s: “While in hiding, Onoda and his companions continued their mission, carrying out guerrilla activities, surviving on bananas, coconuts, stolen rice and cattle, and on several occasions engaging in shootouts with locals and the police. They successfully evaded American and Filipino search parties, and attacked villagers whom they believed to be enemy guerrillas. The first time Onoda’s group saw a leaflet announcing that Japan had surrendered was in October 1945; a separate group of Japanese holdouts showed them a note left behind by islanders that read: “The war ended on 15 August. Come down from the mountains!” The men concluded that the leaflet was Allied propaganda, and reasoned that they would not have been fired on before if the war had ended. Near the end of 1945, leaflets with a surrender order from General Tomoyuki Yamashita of the Japanese Fourteenth Area Army were dropped by air on Lubang. Onoda’s group studied them to determine whether they were genuine, and decided they were not.” As his group grew smaller and smaller — all the way down to one man — Onoda noted that the news which he received of the surrender was all one-sided (coming from “the enemy”) and probably fabricated. Talk about devotion! Reply
Margaret Coats June 9, 2025 Brian, you’ve created an amazingly sensitive poem dealing with several interests in this particular man’s life. The first question I had when hearing of these holdouts was what they felt their mission was. An authentic military man does not just hold onto “never surrender” as his purpose. You’ve made it clear (though it’s not absolutely central in your story) that Onoda felt he had the mission of holding a position. The jungle outpost was the place he was responsible for. This is, however, problematic to do when alone–but for many years Onoda had companions. He finally lost the last human one to Filipino forces who had become the enemy in the long drawn out battle to maintain his guerrilla camp. After that, the bird substituted, first as a wounded friend needing care. But birds have short lives, and once Onoda knew Reiko would be able to fly, he begins to entertain doubts about his mission that a more rational loyalty might have suggested earlier. You do well to show him conscious of the length of time and of the likelihood he is simply left behind. And in your last stanza, you show the man’s identity as Japanese becoming his ultimate mission. In fact, the detailed narrative of parting with Reiko after tea is the ritual reinforcing this identity. It’s very well done. The Way of Tea is meant to establish serenity, and I must say that my first reading of the poem found calm as the principal emotion of the piece. Another reading brought into focus all the little disturbing elements that a man who remains sane must suppress. But you end with Onoda alone capable of meeting Suzuki and still not breaking camp–though he is capable of surrender when the order comes. You also do really well in almost never questioning why the order did not come for nearly 30 years. What about that question of a commanding officer (field grade or emperor) leaving subordinates without communication for an inordinate and indefinite time? We can comprehend the compassion shown to this “tattered soul” when his still living commander is brought from Japan to tell him to surrender. That’s not part of your poem, but you do have him wonder strangely if the emperor will send for him–and if he wants Onoda to return. Again to depart from your poem, the Showa emperor reigned until 1989, so it was the very same “breathing god” the cadet had been commissioned to serve. Below the surface, but I would say still within the poem, lies the consideration of sanity. Indeed, you have Onoda ask if there can be too much faith. We readers are glad this tattered soul could preserve honor in the ceremony of official surrender. But we can ask whether it was truly the virtue of loyalty, or the fantasy of an exaggerated sense of self–or of following mistakenly idealistic training. I might have said reason, and individual freedom with it, have a different place in the Japanese culture Onoda learned than in Western civilization. About the matter of Onoda’s dislike for Japan as he found it in the 1970s, there is the Japanese “inferiority complex” supposed by some to have developed after defeat in the war. People still talk about it, though there are different opinions about the timeline and the rationale behind it, if it exists at all. Some might say the training Onoda underwent, and to which he lived up, was a response to Japan feeling inferior when it was opened to the world after centuries of isolation. That was part of successful modernization (although it was still culturally conditioned) to avoid colonization. Anyway, you’ve written this poem with a degree of reticence that develops reader interest even beyond the situation that is your topic. It’s apparent in the form and in too many details to mention individually. And in the emotion called forth. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much, Margaret. You observations provide meaningful insight into the psychology of Onoda – his actions, the values he demonstrates. I never actually questioned his sanity for his resolute discipline and clearly intense valuation of his Japanese identity and culture seemed to me both sane and deeply invested in honor and patriotism. I’m glad you saw the overall emotional tone of the piece as one of “calm” as that is exactly what I was striving for – a meditative poem which covers 30 years of high drama and long doldrums. The inferiority complex you describe is not something I am familiar with. I rather think of Onoda returning to Japan and finding it utterly commercialized and dissolute in its values. I imagine what it would be like for a patriotic American from 1945 to time travel to the U.S. of 2025. His disgust would be so profound he would probably look for contentment elsewhere. Reply
Laura Schwartz June 9, 2025 Brian, I’m once again moved by your tapestry of imagery and emotion—a journey that melds nature with war. I could envision the ritual of Lt. Onoda’s MacGyver-esq tea-making, worry about Reiko-san’s fate, and still feel your evocative declarations of Onoda’s compelling honor, both on personal and historical levels. You invited us to not only witness, but deeply feel the interplay of past and present. This poem did more than paint a scene; you immortalized Lt. Onoda’s spirit, challenging us to confront our own struggles and the legacy of our choices. Magnificent. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you very much indeed, Laura. I laughed at your description of the MacGyver tea-making — that’s exactly what it was! A complete improvisation using what was at hand in the jungle. And I had great fun conceiving and writing that little scene. I’m so glad you feel I’ve immortalized Onoda’s spirit. I’ve come to hold this man in great esteem. Reply
Christian Muller June 10, 2025 Journalist Dan Carlin observed that the Japanese in WW2 were “just like us but more so”. It is so easy based on contemporary understanding to dehumanise the Japanese armed forces during WW2, it is too easy to forget their personal struggles. Read a few diary entries from Japanese soldiers, and it was amazing how conflicted and nuanced their thoughts were. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you so much for this sensitive comment, Christian. You are so right about the nuance and the personal struggles. Along these lines, I highly recommend a movie called “Letters from Iwo Jima” — directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Ken Watanabe. It tells the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese point of view and is both surprising and moving. Reply
C.B. Anderson June 10, 2025 The practice here of using intermittent end rhyme is something I have rarely encountered, and is a nice touch that saves the poem from being completely blank. I can’t imagine what herb I might find around here as a substitute for tea, which is an essential part of my morning routine. I was told by a native German woman that in WWII they had to roast beechnuts as a coffee substitute — ersatz! Since then I have looked for this elusive kernel but always came up empty. Reply
Brian Yapko June 12, 2025 Thank you for reading and commenting C.B. — as I mentioned to Susan above, I was looking for a nonce form that would be intelligible to a Western classical poet, but which might offer suggestions of Asia and a certain foreign quality. The couplets and the echo word were my attempt to make it not simple blank verse — something I felt would be too Western if unmodified for a speaker so infused with Japanese sensibility. War-time culinary improvisations have led to some interesting cuisines. Currywurst became a huge part of fast food in Germany after World War II and the British occupation forces introduced Indian spices. In Hawaii, Spam has become ubiquitous and an essential ingredient because of military rations after Pearl Harbor. And in the South, chicory coffee has become quite a staple — a result of coffee beans being unavailable as the result of the Union blockade of Confederate ports during the Civil War (or as they sometimes call it down thisaway, “the War of Northern Aggression.”) Reply
Brian Yapko June 10, 2025 Thank you all for the generous responses to this poem on Hiroo Onoda’s amazing story. I plan to reply to each of your comments individually but have been sidelined for the last several days by covid. I’m not quite back to feeling alert enough to write anything meaningful but will be very soon. Another day or so and I’ll be back. Thank you for being patient. Reply
Brian Yapko June 13, 2025 Respecting Hiroo Onoda, I just came across this fascinating Youtube video of his life and experiences in the jungle. It’s well worth a brief watch. https://youtu.be/N3FHeBnTnVs?si=IMyJE9cBA393E6Kg Reply
Mike Bryant June 14, 2025 Brian, Susan and I just watched this eight minute video and we found it well worth watching for the additional insights into Onoda’s unbreakable integrity. Onoda was a real man and a true believer. Reply
Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 “A true believer” is an interesting insight, Mike. I found this message of faith which was inspired by Onoda’s story. I thought you and Susan might find it interesting. https://www.wisdomonline.org/blog/the-final-invitation-to-drink-from-living-water?lang=English&srsltid=AfmBOoriXHpY-ZPnKT6HsDLDN3jRD2w5BHsExtsE9A-klYW6T46fzXUE
Mike Bryant June 14, 2025 That’s very interesting, Brian. I haven’t shared it with Susan yet… she’s buried in a poetic storm of inspiration! However, it is a thoughtful take on Hiroo’s experiences. You mentioned Isaac Newton yesterday… he was like Onoda in some ways… a stranger in an even stranger land, he was fighting his own battles and he was definitely a true believer.
Brian Yapko June 16, 2025 Mike, it’s funny that you mention Sir Isaac Newton being a “stranger in a strange land.” Look at this article that I just came across with that exact point of view! https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7712672/ And if he were alive today his “strange” theories would probably go nowhere because of academic pride and politics.
Mike Bryant June 16, 2025 I disagree with the article’s contention that Newton would be out of place scientifically. In fact, I’m sure that Newton would be at the forefront of every insight into reality today. Chaos theory is simply a refinement that fits well within his laws. Newton was an early proponent of scientific methodology that has, in most cases, been sidelined by what passes for Science today. Feynman laid out the scientific method in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYPapE-3FRw&t=1s Newton is the giant, Feynman and any who follow Newton’s methodology are, of course, only building on his work. When I said that Newton would be in a strange land today, I meant he would be railing against the pseudoscience that is everywhere. Newton would not be able to get a grant.
Brian Yapko June 13, 2025 And in this video we see Hiroo Onoda return to Japan where he is — unbelievably — greeted by his mother and father who have waited for his return these many years. The pride in his parents’ faces is palpable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS0K-WHZOXE Reply
Joseph S. Salemi June 14, 2025 Brian, I watched the video and saw the reunion of Onoda with his still-living mom and dad when he got off the plane. His parents beamed with pride and joy when all three came face to face, but none of them broke into tears, or embraced, or kissed. This shocked me, but then I thought perhaps public displays of emotion are not considered appropriate in Japanese culture. Reply
Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 I know from visiting Japan that public displays of affection are deeply frowned upon. I would imagine that a public display of any emotional outburst would be considered indiscrete and disrespectful. It is in some ways a very stoic culture!
Margaret Coats June 14, 2025 The public sign of honor or recognition and even of affection is a bow, and bows have varying levels. Notice that the woman at the foot of the airway steps (her place indicates she is some sort of official greeter) makes a pronounced bow to Onoda, which he returns. What surprises me is that Onoda’s father makes several nodding bows to him, and Onoda almost belatedly tips his head in return. This is more honor than would be expected from a parent to a son–and it is unexpectedly initiated by the parent rather than by the son. The mother makes a slight nod of her head, and in this short video clip, Onoda does not return it. Probably he does afterward. I have to say from years of living in Japan that this may indicate the mother is too emotional to trust herself, or that she is less able to bow (she is brought out in a wheelchair). Body language is the thing to watch!
Adam Sedia June 14, 2025 Another great dramatic monologue — and I’d be hard-pressed to imagine a subject more fitting for the genre. The story of Lt. Onoda is infamous (though I never hear his name referenced in the story) as an example of fanaticism and extreme devotion to a cause. You probe his hypothetical psychology and humanize it, making it relatable. Orders are orders. We get caught up in our routine. There, but for the grace of God, go any of us. Thank you. Reply
Brian Yapko June 14, 2025 Thank you so much, Adam! Onoda took his “orders are orders” to a level it would be hard to surpass. For me it was a challenge to probe his hypothetical psychology (a good reminder that my version of him is fictionalized) and I’m sure I got many things wrong. But I believe the patriotism, the grit, the resourcefulness and the confidence in his identity would be there under any circumstance. I admire him but would not want to attempt what he did. There but for the grace of God indeed! Reply
