Maeda Shōko was born on September 15, 1929, and grew up in Chiran, an up¬land town in southern Kyushu that was the site of an army air base. She gradu¬ated from Chiran Higher Elementary School in 1943 and was a student at Chiran Girls High School when she was mobilized for war work. Her first year of labor service was spent clearing land for planting flax and cultivating potatoes. The following year she was put to work making sweets for the military and digging and provisioning supply bunkers for the battles that were expected when the Allied forces invaded the Japanese home islands.

On March 27, 1945, Maeda and several of her classmates were led to the nearby air base, normally off-limits to civilians. They were assigned to the quarters of special-attack pilots and told to look after them, which meant cleaning their quarters, doing their laundry, and mending their clothes. Maeda's diary reveals that she and her classmates spent a lot of time with the pilots, talking, singing war songs, and listening to their discussions of abstruse philosophical subjects. When the day of the pilots' final missions arrived, the girls gave them flowers or gifts, accompanied them to the airfield, and saw them off.

After the war, Maeda graduated from Chiran Girls High School in 1948 and worked briefly for the Chiran Agricultural Cooperative. In 1951 she started working as an assistant librarian at the Chiran City Library and completed the course in library science at the Kagoshima University Library in 1954. She stopped working when she got married in 1956.

Maeda's diary covers the period from March 27 to April 18, 1945. It was first published in Muranaga Kaoru, ed., Chiran tokubetsu kōgekitai (Kagoshima: Japuran, 1989), 76-89, and was reprinted in Chiran kōjo nadeshikokai, ed., Chiran tokkō kichi (Tokyo: Waryoku sōgō kenkyūjo, 1979), 167-181.

I got ready for work and then went to school. We heard from Sensei that we'll be going right away to serve the special-attack unit and were surprised. We changed into our uniforms and walked over to their barracks. This was my first visit to the triangular barracks, and, everything seemed different. We spent the day learning about the building of the special-attack unit pilots' quarters. The thought of pilots living in such cramped quarters made us ashamed of our sleeping on thick futon. We were deeply moved when we thought about our older brothers sleeping on straw-filled futon with a single blanket in cramped quarters to which they wouldn't return and waiting for the day of attack. We got back at 5:30 p.m.

Today I was sent to the quarters of the special-attack pilots, but it was my first time, and I was embarrassed and ran away. I was ashamed of my lack of honor. Beginning tomorrow I'll listen to what our special-attack force older brothers say and wash and mend their clothes as well as I can.

I did the pilots' laundry in the morning and cleaned their quarters in the afternoon. As I did this, I heard some of their stories. They are members of the Thirtieth Jinbu Squadron, which is commanded by First Lieutenant Ōbitsu, and are young. Although the unit commander is strict, he is very kind to us, and his subordinates are quite attached to him. They enjoy themselves, singing songs out loud, in their pine grove.

Today the pilots will leave. In the morning they received cherry blossoms from the local shrine, and we gave them dolls as our farewell presents. They seemed genuinely pleased. We went by truck to where the aircraft were parked and offered the pilots lots of food. They shouted cheerfully to us, "Take care of yourselves and live a long life!" and climbed into their beloved aircraft. The as¬sortment of dolls adorning their planes and flopping and spinning in the wind marked today as the day of an attack. The planes took off but returned because of bad weather. The pilots were very disappointed.

We took it easy today and sat on the grass talking with the special-attack pilots. We asked for everyone's addresses. Lance Corporals Sasaki and Ikeda gave as their addresses:

Then we talked about life at a girls' school and about our elder brothers' lives in the military. Apparently Corporal Fukuie has a younger sister who is our age, and he talked about her.

Today, after 1 did the pilots' laundry and cleaned their quarters, we all talked. Eighteen-year-old Lance Corporal Imai and Corporal Fukuie peeled off some bark from a cryptomeria tree and wrote on it "Corporal Grumman." (Recently the air raids have intensified, and waves of Grumman Hellcats continue to at¬tack.) It seems that "Corporal Grumman" also referred to the fact that both Fukuie and Lance Corporal Imai soon will be promoted to corporal and will wipe out the American aircraft carriers that dispatched these Grummans. I'll tell the story of these two forever and ever. They asked me to write to their younger sisters and to report that their brothers were smiling as they attacked. Using their own blood they wrote, "I will go off together with the dolls. . ." and handed to us strands of their hair and fingernail clippings, and I cried for these older brothers and their younger sisters.

On the sane day I went to the brittle command center with Iwawaki.

Today was the day of the attack. Second Lieutenant Yokota asked that I be the one to fasten the hook on his undershirt, and because this meant my going to the barracks alone, I was embarrassed and went with Mori. Saying that the skies were clear and it would be a good day to fly, Second Lieutenant Yokota shaved off his mustache.

The pilots began to take off at 3:30 in the afternoon ... and we saw them off waving rising-sun flags, but Second Lieutenant Miyazaki's aircraft returned and landed. Then First Lieutenant Ōbitsu's aircraft and others took off one by one.... Miyazaki's aircraft went "U-U-U-U," and his engine sounded bad and coughed fire. It was too bad, but if it had been me, I would have taken off in that condition. A member of the ground crew got into the plane, turned it around, and brought it back. Squadron Leader Ōbitsu's plane was shaking violently from side to side; the bomb on Fukuie's plane fell out of its rack; and Gotō's plane broke down and wouldn't move. Today the squadron leader tried to attack twice but failed both times. He sat alone in the barracks gnashing his teeth. Everyone was in the barracks, and we sang ballads with the special-attack pilots. We sang "The Setting Sun Sinks" as well as our school song. Miyazaki told us stories about philosophy, but I couldn't understand what he was saying, and my head began to spin.

We heard a conversation about what to do if the enemy landed. We intend to follow valiantly in the footsteps of our older brothers and not to forget that we are Japanese women and that we are to kill at least one person before we die." Although the pilots themselves will perish together with the enemy ships, they were cheerful as they talked to us, worried about our futures, and warned us not to die in vain. All we could do was to bow our heads in respect.

Lance Corporal Ikeda sang.

Today was the day of the fourth attack—it was four o'clock. Leaving the Chiran airfield for the last time, First Lieutenant Ōbitsu's plane and ten others flew off to the distant, distant south. They left behind one person, a Corporal Kawasaki, who was sick in bed. Before the attack, when Imai took the camouflage net¬ting off his aircraft, he muttered, "It's gotten this dirty!" and showed how dirty his gloves were. It was an unreasonable request, but he insisted that his plane be cleaned off, and it was. Corporal Yoko was extremely pleased about his last flight and said, "I have no regrets. Kawasaki's being left in the sick bay is the only thing weighing on my mind." That's probably so, I thought, because Yoko and Kawasaki were really good friends. I thought Yokō was a truly fine person for thinking about his sick buddy even when his own fate was uncertain. They say he's a squadron leader who will attack with the bones of his subordinates on his back, and they talk about Second Lieutenant Yokota as well, the one with a mustache. They all treated us like younger sisters, or perhaps like children, and I thought we were very lucky. Iwama wrote some calligraphic inscriptions for us, and when I thought of how we hadn't been able to do anything for the pilots and yet received these words of appreciation, my heart was full of gratitude.

We simply pray that the men of the Thirtieth Jinbu Squadron will body-crash without incident into enemy ships and brilliantly fulfill their great assignment.

With just the ailing Kawasaki and the ground crew left, the barracks were eerily quiet. All of us left behind in the barracks shared our memories of how until yesterday, it was "like this and like that." I took a break from nursing Kawasaki and went to get a futon at the guard company. I was accosted by newspaper journalists and talked to them about serving the special-attack unit and shared my impressions, emotions, and feelings of resignation. I was surrounded by a horde of journalists, and it was too much.

Since there were no more special-attack pilots left, we asked whether we could do the ground crew's laundry. I was sympathetic because it occurred to me that they probably spent the whole day working on the aircraft and were exhausted at day's end. They were the ones who got the aircraft to fly without a hitch or breakdowns. We felt for them and thought we should wash their clothes every day.

Now that the beloved aircraft he had worked on probably had body-crashed, one of the maintenance staff said, ""Today is the day of the squadron leader's death-let's all pray." Mori and I each received a cigarette, and after lighting it and smelling its aroma, we prayed. To the distant south ... when I thought about how people who had been fine just two or three days ago had body-crashed into enemy ships and wouldn't return to this world, I couldn't work and just helped prepare meals.

As I was listening to a member of the ground crew playing a shakuhachi, the personnel of the Twentieth Jinbu Squadron asked us to do their laundry. From the outset, I had been in charge of their washing, but I had been away from the quarters of the special-attack pilots. Because the three people left behind when their planes broke down were in the barracks, it was hard to go there. At the same time Second Lieutenant Anazawa asked me to mend three socks. Others cried out, "Mine too," and that afternoon I had my hands full with mending.

When I finished preparing breakfast this morning, four or five people I didn't know were puttering around in the kitchen, and when I announced, "The meal is ready," they turned out to be new people. I mistook their] for people I knew and embarrassed myself. They all were second lieutenants, and their group leader was a military academy graduate—a fine, quiet, and reliable person. People whispered, "All the people who're coming now are older. Can pilots that old form special-attack units?" All had dark mustaches and seemed older. The barracks once again became merry.

Motoshima gave me some camellia and azalea blossoms. Everyone said having azalea blossoms now was unusual, and we made flower arrangements with the azaleas and pine boughs. As we worked on them, we agreed that the flowers would dry up after Motoslurna had attacked and body-crashed. Watai gave me a doll that he had gotten from a girls' school in Shizuoka.

Second Lieutenant Anazawa said, "Why have all of you been staying away from our barracks? We have laundry that needs to be done," and went with us to the barracks. When we got there, there was nothing to be done, and we were mystified. We passed the time talking with Second Lieutenants Ōhira and Anazawa.

It was raining, and because we had come to do laundry, we were barefooted and the pilots teased us mercilessly. We ran out of the barracks.

Today we did laundry and cleaning and went to the barracks to see what the pilots needed. Recently, even Kawasaki has gotten better and is able to venture outside the barracks. While we were doing the washing, we went over to watch some of the maintenance people fish. Both Koizumi and Kawasaki fell off the dike into the river. Just when I was in danger of getting soaked, Kimoto grabbed me and stopped me from falling in. Apparently one can use electricity to send sparks into the water to catch fish. When we did this, sending sparks flying from the mouth of a pipe, a fish suddenly floated to the surface, its white belly show¬ing. Because the voltage was low, this method didn't work that well, and all the fish swain away. I wrote a letter to Lance Corporal Fukuie's younger sister about his last flight and posted it.

I was able to finish my tasks in the morning and in the afternoon went to see the comfort-troop dancers." I went together with Squadron Leader Ikeda, Okayasu, Motoshima, and Watai, and since we were early, we amused ourselves in an elevated vegetable patch. We sang "Sinking from the Sky" at the top of our lungs, and everyone, even the taciturn squadron leader, joined in. The squad leader, fiddling with a head of cabbage, wondered out loud, "Will this kanran roll?" Watai added, "I myself say kyahetsu!" and Okayasu chimed in, "I say gyokusai." The squadron leader smiled wryly. Watai, while complaining always ... The squadron leader said, "Try as I might, I'm no match for Watai," and turning to him, he asked, "Do you want to become a special attacker?" The boy answered, "No, I don't. I want to live a long life!" When the kind squadron leader brings the food for the air units, lie plops down big sweet potatoes that have just been boiled and are piping hot and that always flatten out. Everyone laughs at this. At that moment a car drove up and the squadron leader ran out to it, and because it was filled with a mountain of five-gallon cans, he climbed in, scratching his head. Then a truck drove up. When Motoshima shouted "Stop!" the truck carrying the dancing girls stopped. We got in and went off to see what was going on. But because of the time, we students came right back. Everyone else went out into town.

This morning after we finished washing, sewing, sweeping, and cleaning up the breakfast dishes, five special-attack aircraft from the same squadron were scheduled to arrive, so we went out to greet them. While we waited in the control tower with Squadron Leader Ikeda, Motoshima, Okayasu, and Watai, two aircraft landed. The squadron leader was very pleased, as were his two subordinates who flew in. Since I would be indebted to them from now until the day of their attack, I went to greet them.

The squadron commander said, "Tomorrow is the attack. You've come right on time. Will you attack right away?" The newly arrived pilots replied firmly, "We'll attack together."

That night there was a farewell party at the dining hall for the Twentieth, Sixty-ninth, and Thirtieth squadrons. We received special permission to stay until nine o'clock and serve the men. Until now the squadron leader had writ¬ten down the pilots' addresses for us and asked us to let their families know that they had attacked. This time we asked for their addresses, even though they all were drunk. With breath reeking of sake, they kindly wrote them down.

We all sang "Sinking from the Sky." I intended to join in and sing with every¬thing I had, but for some reason my voice choked up and I began to cry. Mori said, "Let's go outside," and once outside the barracks we cried to our heart's content. Our tears were not at all tears of regret, though. Although tomorrow they would perish together with enemy ships, tonight they were beaming, drunk, and having a great time. When we saw this, we thought, "Ah! Look at this! Japan is strong!" and cried tears of gratitude.

Okayasu, drunk and hanging on to a car, expressed his gratitude to everyone. Amazing! They were such splendid people. Mori and I held each other and bawled.

Today will be a clear-weather attack. They loaded us into a car with the divine eagles who will attack and not return, and we drove straight to the waiting air¬craft along Guidance Road. On the way we sang "Sinking from the Sky" over and over. Together with our teachers we pulled the camouflage netting off the squadron leader's plane. The revolutions of the propeller on his plane, the one with a bomb on its belly, were fine. Motoshima's plane made a buzzing sound. That was probably the exceedingly kind squadron leader. We climbed onto the starting car (in those days, when aircraft started their engines, their propellers would not always turn automatically, so many had to be started with a starting car) and went to the control tower to send off the pilots. When I turned around, the squadron leader and Motoshima, both wearing pretty Chinese milk vetch necklaces, boarded their aircraft and looked back at us. A plane covered with cherry blossoms taxied by right in front of us. We thought that we, too, should shower the planes with cherry blossoms and ran back to the barracks. On the way we met Kawasaki, who was riding a bicycle.

We picked as many cherry blossoms as we could and ran back as fast as our legs would carry us, but the planes had gone to the starting line and were about to begin taxiing down the runway. They were far away, and we were sorry we couldn't run out to them. Motoshirna's plane was late and went to the starting line right in front of us. Then the squadron leader's plane took off. It was fol¬lowed by planes piloted by Okayasu, Yagyū, and Mochiki. The Type 97 fighters wagged their wings from left to right, and we could see smiling faces in all the planes. The plane piloted by Anazawa from the Twentieth Jinbu Squadron passed in front of us. When we waved branches of cherry blossoms as hard as we could, the smiling Anazawa, his head wrapped in a headband, saluted us several times.

Click! ... when we turned and looked behind us, it was the cameraman tak¬ing our pictures. When every one of the special-attack planes had taken off, we just stood there for a long time, gazing at the southern sky, which seemed to go on forever. Tears welled up in our eyes.

We didn't feel like talking, and when we were about to return together, we discovered Motoshima and Watai. Motoshiina was crying unashamedly ... when I asked, "What's wrong?" lie said, "My bomb dropped off, and I couldn't take off. When I ran over to our squadron leader, he said, `Motoshima, come later. I'll go ahead and will be waiting for you in that other world.' I didn't expect this, and I'm so upset! After squadron leader's plane took off, I just sat alone and cried to my heart's content." Teary-eyed Watai added, "It is really a shame! I'm sorry." All at once, the tears we had been stifling welled up, and we all cried together. They said that tonight was a wake for the squadron leader, so saké couldn't be drunk. Horn, who came today, told jokes, and the men listened, but their minds were somewhere else. Since they cried whenever they thought about their squadron leader, who had such deep affection for his subordinates, and about the way he'd say "Motoshima, Motoshirrna," they asked us not to say anything at all.

It was unfortunate that Motoshima and Watai weren't able to body-crash to¬gether with their splendid squadron leader or to participate in the second general attack."

We heard the names of the men from the Sixty-ninth Jinbu Squadron who went off yesterday—Second Lieutenants Yamashita (the assistant squadron leader), Watanabe, Horii, and Nakayama. This raised Motoshima's and Watai's spirits. Everyone missed the squadron leader.

This morning, after the breakfast cleanup, the pilots wrote their wills and death poems for us. In the car on the way back, we sang "Annihilating the Enemy." Looking up at the last traces of the evening sky, I thought about those who had died. We drove along the runway and saw the maintenance people hard at work on the aircraft, whose engines produced blue green flames when they turned over. Motoshima acknowledged and saluted each member of the maintenance crew. These were a pilot's salutes of gratitude expressing his thanks to the main¬tenance crews. The maintenance people do their best to prepare the aircraft for the next day's attack and even stay up all night. Seeing all this right before our eyes, w e thought that this is why Japanese soldiers are great.

We prepared for tomorrow's attack and were really busy, fussing over the way we wrapped up the pilots' personal effects, tidying up, cleaning, and so forth. We gave Motoshima the two dolls he asked for. He's very happy that tomorrow he'll follow in his squadron leader's footsteps and go off to that other world. Appar¬ently Second Lieutenant Motoshima lost his mother when he was a child, and he was very sympathetic when he learned that I didn't have a mother either. He said, "After you lose your mother, you have to become a good mother substitute and a good older sister." The comfort group will be arriving.

Today, at long last, the attack. Mori came to get me at four in the morning. We rode in the car carrying the special-attack pilots to the airfield. The pilots clutched the remains of those who had died performing their duties, and there wasn't a single sad face in the group. They sang "If You're a Man" and "Com¬panion Cherry Blossoms." On this, and only on this, morning, no matter what, the songs could not sound sad. Our older brothers, looking gallant in their white headbands and white scarves, lined up in front of the battle control center. They all wore the same uniforms and were somber, which I didn't understand. As we searched for the pilots we'd looked after, all of a sudden Motoshima called out, "Good Morning!" Then he shouted, "The Sixty-ninth Jinbu Squadron is assembled!" Everyone was there, and for some time we listened intently to what would be the pilots' last speeches. Motoshima wrapped around his head the floating-chrysanthemum headband that the squadron leader had given him, and Watai and Horn prepared themselves for battle. When we offered fallen double-petal cherry blossoms, they seemed very pleased. Of the two dolls, one went into a beloved aircraft and the other was hung from the flight clock. A car then took the pilots to the flight line. Watanabe kept waving a handkerchief until we could no longer see him. Then the aircraft started to taxi, and they took off. The eastern sky was just beginning to brighten. The plane that had "Motoshima" clearly written on it took off in the morning grayness. When I thought, "Hey! It's Motoshima," the "Watai," and "Horii" planes then took off, too. They formed a three-plane formation and flew off together. The Horii plane flew at a very low altitude, which gave me the chills and made me break out in a cold sweat. We stayed until the very end and then returned to the barracks. I was lost in thought for some time as I prayed for the success of these divine eagles who left their base for the last time to attack, together with the rising sun. As we talked about what we were feeling this morning, Second Lieutenant Yamashita returned. He just said, "I'm sorry" and handed over a scrap of paper. Five names were on the sheet: Watanabe, Horii, Watai, Nakayama, and Yamashita. These five were not able to make it. This meant that those who actually attacked were Motoshima and Kawamura—the two who had said, "No matter what, I'll attack today!" At 9:30 a.m.—the time when Motoshima and Kawamura would be body-crashing if all went well—we faced south and observed a moment of silence. Even now I seemed to hear Motoshima's voice, his strong voice, singing "Sinking from the Sky."

There was an enemy air raid, and we evacuated to an air-raid shelter. Hasebe of the Thirty-first Buyo Squadron bolted without touching his food. Everyone called him a coward, and so he dashed out of the shelter and then returned with food in his mouth, crying "Evacuation! Evacuation!" Watai said, "Has the kid come back? Let's take some time and finish our food," and left the shelter. Then when they heard the roar of the enemy planes, they came running back. Finally, on the third try, Hasebe finished his meal. We were amazed. Watanabe—the kind, girlish, and spoiled kid—didn't bother to leave. Because he had once been bombed and narrowly escaped, Horii kept himself out of harm's way until it was clear that he was out of danger, and he did this until his time to attack. He had a good time alone in the shelter, dancing "Flowers Are Islands of Dew...," which the comfort group had danced when they came.z6 He had wonderful hand and body movements, and without thinking we burst out laughing together with our teachers. Akasaki, who had been resting in the Twentieth Jinbu Squadron's bar¬racks, came barreling into the shelter, saying, "They say it's an attack!" Surprised, Watai got up and said, "Dying quickly would be a blessing! Living on while others have died is hard. It's only because we have to go to Fukuoka." Recently Kawasaki, whose color has improved, still had yellow eyes and was listless! When he heard, "Kawasaki is going too," he just said, "Um ... OK." We were really getting a good look at the trials of a special-attack unit. In the evening we'll go to Sensei's house together with Watai, Horii, and others. We'll play cards and lave a good time.

They were going to take a train to Fukuoka that left Chiran at 7:00a.m. We went with our teachers to see them off. To buoy their spirits until the train left, we sang "Companion Cherry Blossoms" and "Tomochan and Shinchan." Other special-attack pilots joined in. They'll be coming back in four or five days, and we consoled their, saying, "Come back quickly." We said goodbye to Kawasaki, and by the time we got to Watai and Horn, the train was moving. We waved handkerchiefs until the faces of Watai, Horn, and Kawasaki, who were leaning out of the windows, got smaller and smaller and the train disappeared in the distance.

As he had asked us to, we carried Kawasaki's parachute harness to the barracks. We'll wait for the return of Watanabe and Nakayama, who left for an attack yesterday. The only ones left in the barracks are Second Lieutenants Yamashita and Hasebe and our maintenance crew. Yamashita will go to Fukuoka in the afternoon. Because there won't be special-attack pilots here for some time, we'll have a vacation beginning tomorrow.

Yamashita, Samuel Hideo. Chapter Seven: Maeda Shōko, "The Diary of a Labor Service Corps Girl," Leaves from and Autumn of Emergencies: Selections from Wartime Diaries of Ordinary Japanese. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005; 221-234.