Rendezvous with the Admiral

Japan was in the grip of a private black terror. The terrorists: diehard fanatics who would not acknowledge defeat. The victims: those "responsible for the ignoble surrender." The punishment: death for those who were caught, arson for those who had fled.

Prime quarry of the undercover assassins was the 77-year-old Premier who led Japan into surrender, Admiral Kantaro Suzuki. For more than a month the Admiral had been a fugitive, his next hiding place unknown even to his family. Last week a group of U.S. and British correspondents had a rendezvous with Suzuki.

The Hunted. The correspondents were led to his hideout, a modest suburban house with a flagstone entryway. In the dimness of a tiny front room sat the hunted old man. There was no mistaking Admiral Suzuki, although he wore a commonplace green uniform with no medals or brass buttons. He was a tall, impressive figure, grey-haired, with a short-clipped mustache and a winning smile. His greeting was cordial, but he looked about him carefully when they entered.

At first politely unwilling to talk, the old Admiral finally talked freely. As far back as 1918, when he was commander of a training fleet visiting San Francisco, he had said there should never be a war in the Pacific, that should there ever be a war between Japan and the U.S., both would be punished by the heavens. He had never changed that opinion. The Emperor, he knew well, held the same view.

At one of the last Diet sessions before the surrender he expressed this view again, only to be vigorously opposed by members who replied: "Not we, but America will be punished by the heavens." But most of the Diet supported Suzuki and he received many unofficial suggestions that an attempt at peace be made.

First he discussed peace with the Emperor, then on June 9 he extended the first peace feelers to the Soviet Union through diplomatic channels. Very few in Japan knew of the move. When Russia replied that they were sorry but they were occupied with the meeting with T. V. Soong, Suzuki knew it was too late. Then came the Potsdam Conference and the Soviet answer to the peace feeler: the declaration of war.

By that time most of the members of the Diet knew the war was lost. But the people of Japan were ignorant of the state of the war. Indeed, the greatest cry for continuing to fight came from the uneducated and working people. They did not know Japan was beaten.

The Emperor. Suzuki was emphatic on the subject of the Emperor. Until just before he took office as Premier, the Emperor was uninformed about the disastrous trend of the war. Suzuki said firmly that the Emperor had been against the war, had repeatedly requested that some peaceful way out be found, that Admiral Nomura's task in Washington was to carry out the Emperor's wishes.

Although Suzuki had never been informed, he was convinced that neither Nomura nor Kurusu knew that the Japanese Navy would strike during the Washington negotiations.

When he was pressed to answer whether the Emperor knew of the attack on Pearl Harbor before the strike, the ex-Premier would not be sure. But on the general ignorance and confusion in Japanese high quarters he was emphatic. Tojo, he insisted, was unaware of the Battle of Midway at the time it was being fought. There was constant friction between the Army, Navy and State Departments.

Then the old Admiral rose and walked to the door. "Goodbye," he said, "and good wishes. I must be moving again."

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