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IMG27 P427

戦闘機の整備士シュカカンらは、小川の爆弾があけた大穴にたどり着いた。穴からは、炎と煙が噴出している。数十人の乗員が消火ホースを使って、格納庫の火を消そうとしていた。白い蒸気と、どす黒い煙が混ざり合い、大きくうねって押し寄せる。シュカカンらは50口径弾を避けながら、アイランドに近づいた。すると、艦橋から一～ニメートル、穴のすぐ近くの濡れた甲板に、小川清の遺体が横たわっていた。小川は、飛行用ジャケットを着ていた。首には、真っ白なスカーフを巻いている。下半身は、切断されてしまったか、背中の後ろまで折れ曲がっているようだった。損壊した零戦から飛び出したのだろう。まだ誰も、彼に触れようとする者はいなかった。「上半身だけ見ると、生きているようでもあった」シュカカンは言う。シュカカンは、炎とあらゆるものの残骸に満ちた悲惨な甲板で、この若者の遺体をじっと見つめた。彼の体や服から何かを読み取ろうとでもするかのように、少しずつ身を屈め、近づいてみる。

しかし、小川の傷ひとつない丸い顔は、何も教えてはくれなかった。何というか、その顔は極めて「普通」だった。彼は指輪をしていた。シュカカンはそれを取ろうかとも思ったが、何かこれ以上恐ろしいことが起きる前に、その場から離れることにした。シュカカンは、小川の遺体を甲板に置いたまま、その場を去った。

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According to Robert Schock, a U.S. Navy diver on board Bunker Hill, Ogawa's aircraft was not completely destroyed after penetrating the flight deck, but remained partially intact and did not catch fire. Instead, the wreckage rested on the hangar deck of Bunker Hill, half awash in water, with live wires sparking all around. Schock found Ogawa dead in the cockpit, and removed Ogawa's name tag from his flight suit, along with a letter Ogawa carried with him on his last mission, some photographs, a belt from Ogawa's parachute harness, and a large smashed aviator watch of the type that Japanese pilots wore around their necks.

On March 27, 2001, Yoko Ogawa, Ogawa's grandniece, her mother, and Masao Kunimine, an old college friend of Kiyoshi Ogawa, received these personal effects in San Francisco, nearly 56 years after Operation Kikusui No. 6

In his last letter, Ensign Kiyoshi Ogawa wrote to his parents:

I will make a sortie, flying over those calm clouds in a peaceful emotion. I can think about neither life nor death. A man should die once, and no day is more honorable than today to dedicate myself for the eternal cause. (...) I will go to the front smiling. On the day of the sortie too, and forever.

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シュカカン氏が何度か遺体の前を通るたびに、乗員が「記念品」を求めて小川の遺体から純白のマフラーを、財布を、鉢巻を、指にはめていた指輪を持ち去り、見るたびにその様子が変わっていったという話もある。

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https://www.sfgate.com/news/article/Doing-His-Duty-Vet-s-grandson-gives-personal-2937231.php#photo-2257295

Doing His Duty / Vet's grandson gives personal effects back to kamikaze pilot's family

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He had written a last letter to his family. "A man dies sooner or later," he wrote. "I am very proud to have lived a meaningful life. This is an honorable way to die."

He climbed into his Mitsubishi Zero airplane, flew away east toward the rising sun, south toward Okinawa and the American enemy. He was a kamikaze pilot, it was May 11, 1945, and it was suicide.

He dived straight down on the carrier Bunker Hill, dropped a single bomb, never pulled out of the dive, crashed into the ship. He died instantly; every bone in his body was broken. The attack set off huge fires and explosions. Four hundred and ninety-six Americans died with him.

The Bunker Hill, badly damaged, was knocked out of the war.

His name was Kiyoshi Ogawa. To Americans, he was a fanatic. To his countrymen, he was a hero. He was 22 years old.

On Tuesday, at a restaurant in the San Francisco Hilton, nearly 56 years later, Ensign Ogawa's war finally ended.

Dax Berg, who develops computer games in Redwood City, returned all that is left of Ogawa's life to the Japanese man's family and friends.

"A gift," Berg said, "from the bottom of my heart. From my family to yours."

Included were the name tag from Ogawa's flight jacket, a letter he'd carried with him on his last mission, some photographs of his friends, the buckle from his parachute harness, a smashed pocket watch, a fair amount of money. Some items were stained with the kamikaze pilot's blood.

The material had been taken from Ogawa's body by Robert Schock, a Navy salvage diver on board the Bunker Hill. He had volunteered to get down to the crashed Zero on a lower deck of the carrier. The plane was half awash in water,

and live wires sparked all around.

Schock climbed into the cockpit and looked at the dead pilot. He had never seen the enemy so close before. He reached inside the man's flight jacket and took out photographs and the letter, picked up the other material and put it in his own pocket.

When the war was over, he moved back to the little town of Haysville, Kan. He was a boxer, an aircraft engineer and the mayor of Haysville. He was Berg's grandfather.

"We were very, very close," Berg said, "He was like a father to me." But the old man seldom talked about the war. He did talk about the dead pilot but never showed his grandson the material he had taken. He kept the items, Berg said, in a cardboard box in the garage with his own Purple Heart medal.

Schock died last November at the age of 72, and Berg delivered the eulogy.

He was 27, ready to move on, and soon afterward he got a job with the 3DO Co. in Redwood City. He moved to Los Gatos and took the box with him.

He kept thinking of that dead Japanese pilot, wondering. He sent an e-mail to his new colleagues, hoping someone could translate the letter.

As it happened, Paul Grace, Berg's boss, is married to a Japanese woman -- Mickie, a professional translator. Something in that box from the dead past spoke to them both. They decided to try to find the pilot's family.

First they worked on the name tag and discovered the man's family name and his rank, ensign in the Imperial Navy. Then Mickie Grace noticed that the letter Ogawa carried was from a noted poet in the Gumma prefecture. Now they had a name, a rank and a general area to search.

With the help of the Japanese defense force and the efficient Japanese post office, they found Kiyoshi Ogawa's family in Takasaki, north of Tokyo.

Mickie Grace wrote the family. As it turned out, the family never knew what happened to Kiyoshi Ogawa, except he never returned from his last mission. But they had not forgotten him. They had a gravestone and a shrine. They said they felt his spirit around them.

Masao Kunimine, who is now 79, was an old college friend of Ogawa's and had spent 50 years trying to find out what happened to him. Then, out of the blue, came the letter from America.

Yoko Ogawa, 41, the pilot's grandniece, her mother and Yoko's son all decided to come to California to get the material. Kunimine came as well. Before they left, they went to the family shrine and prayed to Kiyoshi's spirit.

At the same time, an ocean away, Berg thought of what he would do. He would give the material back to the family. "I know my grandfather," Berg said. "This is what he would want me to do."

The gift, the small pieces of Kiyoshi Ogawa's life, were accepted with deep bows and tears.

"I know nothing of the war," said Yoko Ogawa. "All I knew is that he died near Okinawa. I know Kiyoshi-san died for his country and his people.

"It is not something the younger generation can do. We are very proud of him, and I want to say to him, 'Thank you for your good work.' "

The material from his suicide flight, she said, was "a national treasure."

Mickie Grace read aloud from Ogawa's last letter, and pictures of the pilot were passed around. Kunimine talked about what they were like when they were young men, a lifetime ago. He began to weep.

Berg made a little speech later. He said he had received a draft notice once and was prepared to go to serve his country as his grandfather had. He said he was willing to lay down his life. But that call never came. No one is drafted anymore.

The Americans, who spoke no Japanese, and the Japanese, who spoke no English, passed around the dead pilot's possessions, and looked at a book with pictures of the burning American ship from that day in May, 55 years ago.

All the while, Yoko's 3-year-old boy, Rurito, talked away about child's things, paid no attention to talk about death and fires and war. Instead, he let out little cries and ran around the restaurant.

No one would ever ask him to commit suicide for his country.

"Perhaps," said Berg, "that war did really end all the wars."

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​Ogawa`s last letter to his parents and his life

http://wgordon.web.wesleyan.edu/kamikaze/writings/ogawa/index.htm

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