“The contest between the two powers unleashed a nightmare upon the island’s civilian population, sparing no one from the tragedies of war.”

 By George Yagi Jr.

LOCATED IN the western Pacific, the Mariana Islands were strategically important to Japan during World War Two. Situated less than 1,500 miles from the home islands, they were a crucial part of the empire’s defensive perimeter.

With the exception of Guam, the Marianas were part of the South Seas Mandate, which was granted to Japan by the League of Nations in 1919. Initially claimed by Spain in 1565, they later became a German possession in 1899, and then passed into Japanese hands following the outbreak of the First World War.

The largest island in the Northern Marianas, Saipan was a key objective in the American island-hopping campaign in the Pacific. Just one-and-a-half to five miles wide and 12 miles long, Saipan boasted a population of more than 30,000 residents. Although the island was originally inhabited by the Chamorro and Carolinian peoples, they were quickly surpassed by newly arrived Japanese, who by the summer of 1944 numbered 22,000. Due to the large Japanese presence on the island, Saipan’s capital, Garapan, quickly came to be known as the “Tokyo of the South Seas.”

Prior to the U.S. invasion of Saipan on June 15, 1944, Japanese Prime Minister Hideki Tojo confidently claimed that the island was impregnable. Yet once the fighting began, Garapan was quickly reduced to rubble.

Initial American naval bombardments and aerial assaults took a terrible toll on the Japanese defenders. These were followed by amphibious landings and heavy ground fighting. As American and Japanese troops battled for control of the island, civilians were subjected to the horrors of combat, struggled to secure necessary supplies for survival, and faced further hardships when surrendering to American forces. Ultimately, the contest between the two powers unleashed a nightmare upon the island’s civilian population, sparing no one from the tragedies of war.

While the Battle of Saipan unfolded, civilians were traumatized, with many watching their friends and loved ones killed in the crossfire. Victoria Akiyama witnessed such horrors. Just 11 years old, she saw members of her family become casualties during the first days of the invasion. Born to a Japanese father and Chamorro mother, Victoria tried to hide with her siblings and cousins at her uncle’s home in Aslito. 

As the fighting raged outside the house, an explosion suddenly rocked the building. Among those killed in the blast was the girl’s sister Teruko, who instantly vanished in the inferno. With flames now around them, Victoria saw that her stepmother and grandmother had also been wounded, while her baby brother’s tiny skull had been fatally torn open. Frantically, she dragged her injured loved ones to safety. 

Outside, she discovered her aunt and brother were also among the dead. Two Japanese soldiers spotted the girl and pulled her and the wounded into their foxhole. Safe for the moment, Victoria watched helplessly as a cousin bled to death in front of her eyes, while another struggled to hold in her exposed intestines. As the Americans moved through the neighbourhood, GIs sprayed the foxhole with a flamethrower. Badly burned, she was captured and evacuated with other civilians to a detention camp at nearby Lake Susupe. Out of the 10 Akiyama children, only Victoria and two others survived the battle of Saipan.

As the struggle for the island continued, 12 year old Carolinian islander Felipe Ruak and his family hid from the violence in a cave. One day, the family was surprised to discover American and Japanese soldiers fighting just outside the mouth of the cavern. When a relative darted outside towards the advancing Americans, Japanese soldiers tossed a grenade. Some of the fragments flew into the cave, striking his sister Rosiana and her three-year-old son. Mortally wounded, Rosiana died soon afterwards; her child followed one week later. Others in the group were also injured.

While scores of civilians were killed by stray bullets and shells, many chose suicide rather than surrender. With GIs mopping up the last pockets of Japanese resistance, hundreds of civilians leapt to their deaths from the island’s cliffs. A few who escaped this fate were taken into U.S. custody. 

On her journey to Camp Susupe with other civilians, islander Marie Castro recalled: “We came to two little Japanese girls standing in the road. One was four years old and the other was eight. They were dressed in nice kimonos. One of the Marines told us that their mother had dressed them in their best clothes, given them some money, and told them to keep walking until somebody found them. I think their parents committed suicide.” 

Catholic nuns took care of the crying orphans, whose first words were, “Please take care of us. We don’t have our parents.”   

As fighting continued across Saipan, food and clean drinking water became scarce. Wild growing fruits provided some relief, and a few lucky families enjoyed access to streams near the caves where they had taken refuge; others were not so fortunate. 

“Everyone was very thirsty,” Castro recalled. “We prayed for rain but it never came, so my father went down to the ocean to fetch some sea water. When he came back everybody surrounded that bucket. Sister Mercedes put some to her lips but couldn’t swallow it. It was too salty.”

Locally grown sugar cane, which contained juice and could be eaten, provided some relief. Prior to the war, it was one of the crops that had dominated the local economy. For three weeks, civilian David Sablan and his family survived solely on sugar cane, while Felipe Ruak’s relied on it when no water could be found. 

In addition to what local crops could be consumed, soldiers also provided supplies. One night, Japanese troops appeared at the cave where the Ruak family was hiding and asked if there were any men present. At first, the family was suspicious, but their fears were soon put to rest.

“My brothers-in-law and the others went with the soldiers,” Felipe recalled. “They took them to Tanapag Church. There was a hole there; I don’t know who dug it. It was full of supplies like biscuits, canned goods, and sweet things like candy. They brought these things back to us through the kindness and good heart of these Japanese soldiers.”

Unlike the Ruak family, others were not so lucky. When Kimiko Nishikawa’s father and brother ventured out one night in search of supplies, they were attacked near a sugar cane field by an American machine gun. Her father was killed.

When civilians decided to surrender, it did not mark an end to the misery of their wartime experience. Efforts to be taken into American custody provided no guarantee of safety. Korean immigrant Taeki Lee recalled when GIs arrived at his cave, “Four Korean adults were killed before we could raise our hands and surrender.”

If one did survive their initial encounter with U.S. troops, the situation did not improve in the detention facility. 

“It was hard in Camp Susupe,” Saipan resident Manuel Sablan recalled. “There really wasn’t much of a place to sleep. Some of us men had to sleep on the ground with just a blanket, but under a tent.”

Kimiko Nishikawa added: “Camp Susupe was awful. Just tents with sand for floors. I think the Japanese at Camp Susupe were not treated as well as the Chamorros. The Chamorro camp seemed to have better accommodations and better food.”

After surviving the battle outside her uncle’s home, Victoria Akiyama suffered further trauma in the camp. She was discouraged from speaking the Japanese language, and suddenly found former non-Japanese friends had turned against her because she was of half-Japanese descent. A common name that was used against her was “Tojo.” The living conditions she experienced at Susupe were terrible. No shelters had been prepared for the new arrivals, and her family had to construct one with whatever materials they could gather. Lice outbreaks caused additional torment, while food was in scarce supply. There was also the constant threat of sexual assault.

“We had to be on guard at night because sometimes American soldiers would come into the camp looking for young women,” Victoria recalled.

The Battle of Saipan was a great tragedy for the civilians who had called the island home. Of its original 30,000 inhabitants, it’s estimated that 8,000 lost their lives during the battle and the mass suicides that followed the Japanese defeat.

For those who made it through the chaos, they had endured additional hardship. Family members numbered among the dead, food and water were difficult to gather, and surrender did not mean an end to the misery. In addition, after the war was over, the surviving Japanese were repatriated to Japan. Having lost her father and mother, as well as four other siblings, Kimiko Nishikawa was fortunate to be adopted by a local Chamorro family who were good friends of her parents. However, Japanese law forbade them from also adopting her only surviving brother. When Kimiko and her brother were finally reunited many years later, they were unable to communicate as she lost her Japanese language skills and he did not understand English. However, after relearning her mother tongue, the two were able to speak once again.

For many others, the search for missing loved ones did not have such a happy ending. Prior to the outbreak of hostilities, Victoria Akiyama’s father, Tomomitsu, had left his family to attend to business affairs in the Marpi area of the island. Once the battle began, he was unable to rejoin them; Victoria never saw him again. She later heard he’d been seen searching for them in Garapan and Iliyang as the fighting raged, then reportedly went to see if they’d found shelter in some caves around Talofofo. While at Camp Susupe, Victoria would sit outside the family residence and wait for him to return. He never did.

Reflecting on his loss, Victoria added, “After more than 50 years, I still miss my father.” 

Today, Saipan is part of the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas, which belongs to the United States. Communities have been rebuilt, and the jungle has covered over many traces of the campaign that took place in 1944. However, for survivors, the pain and suffering endured during those three horrific weeks had lasting effects well beyond the end of the war.

Dr. George Yagi Jr. is an award-winning author and historian at California State University, East Bay. Follow him on Twitter @gyagi_jr