Tokyo's Games

Citizen Sato--Japan's John Citizen-- likes his country's forays into China, its big army and navy, but he never liked the casualty lists, the crushing taxes. He gasped fortnight ago when the Navy asked for its all-time high in budget appropriations: $190,400,000. The Government will not vote on the new budget until next winter. In the meantime it gave the Army and Navy free rein to try to supplant Citizen Sato's fear of taxes with another fear, more favorable to big Navy budgets. For three days last week Tokyo, the world's third biggest city, saw the biggest war games ever shown a capital in peacetime.

At 9 a. m. the first day Sato quailed as sirens howled over the entire Tokyo area of 5,000,000 people. He trotted to his doorstep with pails of water, set them outside to extinguish imaginary fires. Overhead he saw enemy planes in small formations zooming out of the mist, circling over parks and department store roofs where anti-aircraft guns spat upward. Suddenly the street blossomed with colored vapors, to indicate that poison gas and incendiary bombs had been dropped. He coughed in good earnest as a smoke screen smelling like burning rubber billowed down on him. Suddenly the street was streaked with cars, motorcycles and bicycles scudding past, carrying members of youth organizations, official and semiofficial. Sweating in khaki sun-helmets and heavy khaki coats, they went into action shouting at traffic, patrolling the street to see that Sato had his pails of water outside, shouting instructions to "Keep calm." Fifteen thousand soldiers helped out these volunteers. Stretcher bearers wearing gas masks picked out grinning civilians, bandaged them and lugged them to "emergency hospitals" in schools and public halls. At this play-acting Sato's sentimental little wife was seen to weep. Tokyo's fire engines clanged out to put out imaginary fires in buildings designated as having been "hit" by enemy bombs. Through all this, seven Princes of the Blood Imperial scurried on inspection tours to focal points. That day the enemy planes buzzed back over Tokyo again at 11 a. m., again at 2 p. m. Bystanders gathered by thousands in the public parks. One girl ogling up from a roof fell over the edge to her death.

On the two night attacks the sirens promptly put out every light in Tokyo. The enemy buzzed over a perfectly darkened city, pricked only by purple or red-hooded automobile headlights and red flashlights at important traffic centres. Sato leaned out his dark window, listened in vain for the noise of airplane engines, felt that something big was going on.

Next day he read in the newspapers that the planes had taken off from aircraft carriers stationed "somewhere to the southeast," gathered without difficulty that the attack was "as if" from a U. S. battle fleet in the Pacific. Japanese aviation men pointed out that the war games were equally a test of Tokyo's defense against an air attack from Vladivostok. War Minister Sadao Araki said that their purpose was the "spiritual education of the people."

While Sato was being wholesomely frightened, officials were determined to give away no secrets to potential enemies. The Foreign Office warned all embassy attaches to carry identification cards "to avoid inconvenience." Enthusiastic war-game players sharply questioned many a foreigner on Tokyo's excited streets. The U. S. naval attaches discreetly withdrew to the summer resort of Karuizawa, 87 mi. from Tokyo.

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