"The Greatest Trial"

In Tokyo last week, after 18 months of legal bickering and monotonous reading of documents, the drowsy courtroom in the old War Ministry building came to life. The chief characters of the climactic scenes were Hideki ("The Razor") Tojo and Ryukichi ("The Monster") Tanaka. Neither expected to live long. War Criminal Tojo expected to be hanged by the victors, whose newly written laws he boldly challenged; Tanaka expected to be assassinated by the vanquished, whose old, unwritten laws he had betrayed.

Sir William Webb, chairman of the International Military Tribunal, Far East, called it "the greatest trial in history." It was likely that history, at least as taught in Japan, would remember chief defendant Hideki Tojo longer than chief prosecution witness Tanaka--and longer than anything else about the trial that was to establish a Japanese conspiracy against peace and humanity.

"He's a Fool." Except for his grim mouth, Ryukichi Tanaka, a fat little man with half-closed eyes and a huge head, looked like a bland buddha. He was a lady-killer, soldier, spy, agent provocateur. After 26 years of this motley career, Tanaka became chief of the Military Service Bureau of the War Ministry, a job that gave him indirect control of the Kempei Tai (Japan's secret police), and made him "The Monster" to terrified Japanese.

During the trial, Tanaka testified three times for the prosecution, twice for the defense. On the stand he was witty, self-possessed, contemptuous of his surroundings, making full use of his amazing memory for details. Peremptorily he picked the few defendants on whose behalf he wished to intercede. Of Field Marshal Shunroku Hata he said: "I will testify for that man. . . . He's a fool." Of ex-Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu: "My personal good friend. He, together with myself, has always been opposed to war." But most other defendants he decided to condemn--admittedly for reasons of personal revenge. Said Tanaka: "I feel the truth is necessary for Japan and for the world. That is why I shall be assassinated when the occupation is over."

"Such a Long Time." The defendants seemed to be increasingly bored. One day ex-Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu, in a stained suit, unshaven, his jowls sagging, sank from his crutches into a chair and picked up a copy of LIFE. Suddenly he started. The number was two years old; it contained a famous picture of himself, impeccably attired in top hat and morning coat, signing Japan's surrender aboard the U.S.S. Missouri. At that moment, Lieut. Colonel Aubrey Kenworthy, U.S. officer in charge of the prisoners, passed. "Haven't you seen these pictures before?" he asked. Shigemitsu shook his unkempt head, kept turning the pages. Then he muttered: "It's been such a long time."

But when the time drew near for Hideki Tojo to take the stand last week, the atmosphere changed. It meant that the end was in sight. The defendants ate less. They strained for a look at Fujiyama. To see the sacred mountain at year's end meant luck.

When the day came, the gallery, which had been empty for months, was jammed. Tojo walked to the stand with the correct aplomb of the model prisoner and the unearthly smugness of the samurai. His court-appointed lawyer, George Blewett of Philadelphia, started to read Tojo's 64,000-word affidavit, which Tojo had rewritten four times in one year. Tojo himself sat back calmly. Around his right middle finger was tied a piece of string--a reminder to himself, he explained later, to keep his quick temper in check. Among his fellow defendants there was a stir of anticipation. Teiichi Suzuki, ex-President of the Cabinet Planning Board, folded his hands and lowered his head as in prayer.

Through Blewett's voice, Hideki Tojo spoke for all the defendants, and, in a sense, for millions.of Japanese. His defense was offense. He challenged not only the victors' right to try him and his fellows: he challenged the U.S. version of history. Japan, he said, had been forced into the war by the U.S.

"Fantastic Accusation." The story started with China, and a familiar warlord's defense. Japan's actions, said Tojo, were motivated chiefly by the threat of Chinese Communism. "This was all done with a view to saving East Asia from the danger of bolshevization and at the same time to make herself a barrier against world bolshevization. The present condition of the world two years after the end of World War II eloquently tells how important these barriers were. . . ."

Then, continued U.S. aid to China forced Japan on the defensive. With war in Europe came allied blockades, embargos, encirclement. Japan's access to food, rubber, oil, was threatened. Still, "we did not anticipate . . . that America [would] . . . force Japan to make the first overt act." There had never been a conspiracy among Japanese leaders to make war. "I fail utterly to understand . . . this fantastic accusation. . . ."

The attack on Pearl Harbor was not intended as a sneak attack; a formal declaration of war was somehow delayed through a diplomatic hitch. "It was a matter of great regret to the Japanese government [to learn] that the actual delivery of our note was delayed. . . ."

The man who had tried to commit suicide to escape trial (TIME, Sept. 24, 1945) did not now try to save his neck. His sovereign, Emperor Hirohito, was not to blame for anything, said Tojo. At the meeting during which the General Staff presented its first war plans, "His Majesty was pleased to listen . . . although not uttering a single word. . . . The responsibility of defeat devolves on myself as Premier."

"Now I Don't Know." Tojo did not accept responsibility for a crime. He said: "Never at any time did I conceive that waging this war could or would be challenged by the victors as an international crime, or that regularly constituted officers, officials of the vanquished nation, would be charged individually as criminals. . . ."

Said one Japanese to a U.S. reporter last week: "I used to think Tojo should be hanged. Now I don't know. If we had won we would have tried the Americans." Said another: "When you people have left these islands, the Japanese will again return to traditional worship of exalted human beings. First to be enshrined will be Hideki Tojo."

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