Life in Yanbaru in Wartime
Ms. Hatsuko Higa
Birth year：1929
Birth place：Nago City
Life at Kushi National School
During the Battle of Okinawa, I was a second-year at national school’s higher course. When there were no air raids, I went to school. At school, we had air-raid drills. I commuted to Kushi National School in Sedake from Mihara in Kushi (present-day Nago City). I never officially graduated because the Battle of Okinawa started before my graduation. We only had one or two hours of classes on weekdays. At around the fourth hour, the bell alarm for air raids would ring, and we would leave the building to hide in the air-raid shelter. When the air raid alert was over, we left the air-raid shelter and returned to the school building. This was my school life. Back then, the students were responsible for duties like plowing the fields, growing sweet potatoes, and raising pigs. We raised about three pigs. The duties were rotated every week. One week would be Mihara’s turn to take care of the pigs, and the next week was another village’s turn. The teachers made straw dolls, and sharpened bamboo tips to make spears. We then had drills that involved stabbing the dolls with the spears. A large number of children dug shelters here and there. They weren’t very deep, but big enough to stand and walk in.
The imperial photograph in the shrine
There was a photo of the Emperor in the national school’s shrine. You had to open three doors to see the photo. When passing in front of the photo, if the doors were open, we bowed toward the photograph before passing. When the doors were closed, we straightened our postures. Our teacher was very strict, and I was hit often. Everyone was punished as a group. We were all punished if even one person spoke aloud during class, and even if it was a word or two. We would be told to hold our hand out and we were hit with a ruler. It was very harsh. We were punished even for getting a drink of water during class. When leaving the school building, we had to sing a military song until we passed the gate. “The enemy’s been spotted. They draw closer,” we would sing.
We were provided just one uniform set. Even if I washed my uniform in the evening it wouldn’t dry, so I would wipe it with a wet towel and dry it before putting it on. That’s how I took care of my school uniform. I went to school barefoot since I didn’t have any shoes. I had sweet potatoes for lunch and not rice. Since we were a farming family, I wrapped five or six sweet potatoes, made a small basket, placed the sweet potatoes in the basket, and took it to school. I had nothing to protect me from the rain, so I used a winnowing basket as an umbrella.
Air-raids and evacuation to the mountains
My father evacuated from the village to the mountains across the river. We headed to the mountains without crossing the river and built an air-raid shelter, living separately from my father. One evening, the explosions were far away, so I felt at ease, thinking the air raids were over for the day. Then suddenly, I heard machine gun fire. When I left the air-raid shelter, wondering what area was under attack, I saw that my father had been hit in the leg by US aircraft fire. His leg was flailing about connected only by some skin. We tried taking him to the clinic in Sedake that night for treatment, but he died on the way due to heavy blood loss.
At night, I would come home to cook dinner, and the following day I would go to a mountain shelter with the meal, then return home again at around 5:30 in the evening. There weren’t many air raids around there, so we didn’t have many deaths. If there had been a lot of air raids, many more people would have died. I didn’t feel alive during the air raids.
When the war grew fiercer, Japanese soldiers advanced into Kushi. The soldiers were hungry, and they’d eat up all the boiled taro potatoes from a big pot in an instant. These soldiers came from the south and went north towards Higashi Village. The Japanese soldiers would say that everything was fine, that Japan was winning. They could tell us anything. We had no experience fighting, so we believed what the soldiers said and thought that Japan was winning. So we weren’t afraid of anything. It was during this time that the war ended.
After the end of the war, there were no air raids around Yanbaru. Propaganda leaflets were air-dropped by the US military, telling us to come out, that the war had ended, and that nothing would be done to us. When we saw the leaflets, we didn’t surrender immediately. Eventually, those who evacuated to the mountains gradually came down. That’s because the US forces fired a trench mortar into the mountain from a three-forked road near our home. We couldn’t hide away in the mountains anymore.
Around this time, soldiers of the Gokyotai (a guerrilla warfare unit consisting of child soldiers) were at Tanodake, but they gradually descended from the mountain. My brother, also a Gokyotai, had injured his neck from gun fire. He survived luckily, but we didn’t expect the war to reach all the way to the countryside. My brother had a child-like face, so the US military thought he was a child and did not take him to the prisoner-of-war camp.
There were refugees in Mihara Village from the south and central region, but the residents of Mihara had fled to the mountains. Meanwhile, the refugees had started living in our homes, stealing and eating the sweet potatoes we grew. The refugees did not often head to the mountains. Since we fled to the mountains, we had left our food at home. But we ran out of food because the refugees had eaten everything. We ran out of food and struggled to find some. We carried unhulled rice on our backs to the mountains and hid them, but it was all stolen. These were hard times.
Immediate post-war life
We then descended from the mountain and were gathered at Sedake. At the time, the US military was distributing things like rice, and they set up tents offering us shelter. Later on, many people died of malaria. Most of them were refugees from the south-central part of Okinawa. I assisted a medical staff from Itoman, but many of the refugees died.
There were a lot of rations from the US military. There was canned beef and delicious rice, too. The rice was white and long, and it was delicious as porridge. Flour, wheat, and beans were distributed as well, so we had enough food. We farmers were given about one, 1.8-liter box of rice, but non-farmers received about four boxes. Those who did not own fields received a lot of food. The rations included beans, so some people would make tofu with the beans and sell them. Before the war, everyone was afraid of the American soldiers, but they brought a lot of delicious food and fed us in the form of rations. This made me feel that they weren’t so bad after all.
There was no edible oil available, so we used machine oil. When it was lit, blue foam would form. We used this to make tempura, and it turned out okay. No one died from the oil. The machine oil was blue, and everyone was afraid of eating tempura made from it, but once a couple people ate it and said nothing was wrong, everyone started eating it.
Married life
Back then, a lot of people got married when they were around twenty. I got married when I was 22 or 23. Before getting married, I had five or six brothers and I was the only girl, so I worked in the fields year-round. I had a lot of work to do, such as plowing the rice fields, planting sweet potatoes, and preparing meals, so it wasn’t easy. I wanted to start working in town the first chance I got. After getting married, my life finally got easier. I got married to a farmer from the same village. After our marriage, we farmed and raised pigs. The pigs were profitable and sold for about $10 each.
A message for young people
I had a very difficult experience because I was the only daughter. I was raised strictly, so looking at young people today, some are extremely lazy and spoiled and don’t treasure their relationships with others. It’s frustrating to see people like that.
Ms. Hatsuko Higa supported her family through farming and raising pigs while also looking after her husband’s younger siblings, who lost their parents in the war. Having lived in Mihara Village her entire life, from before the war to present, she is a valuable storyteller who is able to talk about how life in Yanbaru has changed over the years.
Life at Kushi National School
During the Battle of Okinawa, I was a second-year at national school’s higher course. When there were no air raids, I went to school. At school, we had air-raid drills. I commuted to Kushi National School in Sedake from Mihara in Kushi (present-day Nago City). I never officially graduated because the Battle of Okinawa started before my graduation. We only had one or two hours of classes on weekdays. At around the fourth hour, the bell alarm for air raids would ring, and we would leave the building to hide in the air-raid shelter. When the air raid alert was over, we left the air-raid shelter and returned to the school building. This was my school life. Back then, the students were responsible for duties like plowing the fields, growing sweet potatoes, and raising pigs. We raised about three pigs. The duties were rotated every week. One week would be Mihara’s turn to take care of the pigs, and the next week was another village’s turn. The teachers made straw dolls, and sharpened bamboo tips to make spears. We then had drills that involved stabbing the dolls with the spears. A large number of children dug shelters here and there. They weren’t very deep, but big enough to stand and walk in.
The imperial photograph in the shrine
There was a photo of the Emperor in the national school’s shrine. You had to open three doors to see the photo. When passing in front of the photo, if the doors were open, we bowed toward the photograph before passing. When the doors were closed, we straightened our postures. Our teacher was very strict, and I was hit often. Everyone was punished as a group. We were all punished if even one person spoke aloud during class, and even if it was a word or two. We would be told to hold our hand out and we were hit with a ruler. It was very harsh. We were punished even for getting a drink of water during class. When leaving the school building, we had to sing a military song until we passed the gate. “The enemy’s been spotted. They draw closer,” we would sing.
We were provided just one uniform set. Even if I washed my uniform in the evening it wouldn’t dry, so I would wipe it with a wet towel and dry it before putting it on. That’s how I took care of my school uniform. I went to school barefoot since I didn’t have any shoes. I had sweet potatoes for lunch and not rice. Since we were a farming family, I wrapped five or six sweet potatoes, made a small basket, placed the sweet potatoes in the basket, and took it to school. I had nothing to protect me from the rain, so I used a winnowing basket as an umbrella.
Air-raids and evacuation to the mountains
My father evacuated from the village to the mountains across the river. We headed to the mountains without crossing the river and built an air-raid shelter, living separately from my father. One evening, the explosions were far away, so I felt at ease, thinking the air raids were over for the day. Then suddenly, I heard machine gun fire. When I left the air-raid shelter, wondering what area was under attack, I saw that my father had been hit in the leg by US aircraft fire. His leg was flailing about connected only by some skin. We tried taking him to the clinic in Sedake that night for treatment, but he died on the way due to heavy blood loss.
At night, I would come home to cook dinner, and the following day I would go to a mountain shelter with the meal, then return home again at around 5:30 in the evening. There weren’t many air raids around there, so we didn’t have many deaths. If there had been a lot of air raids, many more people would have died. I didn’t feel alive during the air raids.
When the war grew fiercer, Japanese soldiers advanced into Kushi. The soldiers were hungry, and they’d eat up all the boiled taro potatoes from a big pot in an instant. These soldiers came from the south and went north towards Higashi Village. The Japanese soldiers would say that everything was fine, that Japan was winning. They could tell us anything. We had no experience fighting, so we believed what the soldiers said and thought that Japan was winning. So we weren’t afraid of anything. It was during this time that the war ended.
After the end of the war, there were no air raids around Yanbaru. Propaganda leaflets were air-dropped by the US military, telling us to come out, that the war had ended, and that nothing would be done to us. When we saw the leaflets, we didn’t surrender immediately. Eventually, those who evacuated to the mountains gradually came down. That’s because the US forces fired a trench mortar into the mountain from a three-forked road near our home. We couldn’t hide away in the mountains anymore.
Around this time, soldiers of the Gokyotai (a guerrilla warfare unit consisting of child soldiers) were at Tanodake, but they gradually descended from the mountain. My brother, also a Gokyotai, had injured his neck from gun fire. He survived luckily, but we didn’t expect the war to reach all the way to the countryside. My brother had a child-like face, so the US military thought he was a child and did not take him to the prisoner-of-war camp.
There were refugees in Mihara Village from the south and central region, but the residents of Mihara had fled to the mountains. Meanwhile, the refugees had started living in our homes, stealing and eating the sweet potatoes we grew. The refugees did not often head to the mountains. Since we fled to the mountains, we had left our food at home. But we ran out of food because the refugees had eaten everything. We ran out of food and struggled to find some. We carried unhulled rice on our backs to the mountains and hid them, but it was all stolen. These were hard times.
Immediate post-war life
We then descended from the mountain and were gathered at Sedake. At the time, the US military was distributing things like rice, and they set up tents offering us shelter. Later on, many people died of malaria. Most of them were refugees from the south-central part of Okinawa. I assisted a medical staff from Itoman, but many of the refugees died.
There were a lot of rations from the US military. There was canned beef and delicious rice, too. The rice was white and long, and it was delicious as porridge. Flour, wheat, and beans were distributed as well, so we had enough food. We farmers were given about one, 1.8-liter box of rice, but non-farmers received about four boxes. Those who did not own fields received a lot of food. The rations included beans, so some people would make tofu with the beans and sell them. Before the war, everyone was afraid of the American soldiers, but they brought a lot of delicious food and fed us in the form of rations. This made me feel that they weren’t so bad after all.
There was no edible oil available, so we used machine oil. When it was lit, blue foam would form. We used this to make tempura, and it turned out okay. No one died from the oil. The machine oil was blue, and everyone was afraid of eating tempura made from it, but once a couple people ate it and said nothing was wrong, everyone started eating it.
Married life
Back then, a lot of people got married when they were around twenty. I got married when I was 22 or 23. Before getting married, I had five or six brothers and I was the only girl, so I worked in the fields year-round. I had a lot of work to do, such as plowing the rice fields, planting sweet potatoes, and preparing meals, so it wasn’t easy. I wanted to start working in town the first chance I got. After getting married, my life finally got easier. I got married to a farmer from the same village. After our marriage, we farmed and raised pigs. The pigs were profitable and sold for about $10 each.
A message for young people
I had a very difficult experience because I was the only daughter. I was raised strictly, so looking at young people today, some are extremely lazy and spoiled and don’t treasure their relationships with others. It’s frustrating to see people like that.
Ms. Hatsuko Higa supported her family through farming and raising pigs while also looking after her husband’s younger siblings, who lost their parents in the war. Having lived in Mihara Village her entire life, from before the war to present, she is a valuable storyteller who is able to talk about how life in Yanbaru has changed over the years.