In the dense jungles of Okinawa, Takamatsu Gushiken dons a headtorch as he cautiously enters a concealed cave. As he sifts through the gravel flooring, fragments of bone gradually appear, which he believes are from the skulls of an infant and potentially an adult. He delicately places them into a ceramic bowl, reflecting on the tragic events from 80 years prior when people sought refuge amid one of World War II’s deadliest confrontations. His ultimate goal is to reunite these lost souls with their families.
Currently, approximately 1,400 sets of remains discovered on Okinawa are stored in hopes that DNA testing might identify them. To date, only six individuals have been matched and returned to their families. Individuals like Gushiken, along with others dedicated to this cause, urge that the government should amplify its efforts.
“The remains carry significant stories of Okinawa’s past,” says Gushiken, emphasizing their silent testament to wartime tragedies. He voices concern over present-day tensions, as Japan increases its defense budget amid disputes with China over territorial matters and China’s claims on Taiwan. “The best tribute to those who perished is ensuring such a conflict never happens again,” Gushiken remarks, adding, “I’m apprehensive about Okinawa’s current circumstances.”
On April 1, 1945, U.S. forces commenced their advance towards Japan by landing on Okinawa, sparking a battle that ravaged the island until June. This conflict resulted in the deaths of around 12,000 American troops and over 188,000 Japanese individuals, which included many Okinawan civilians who were pressured into mass suicides by the Japanese military. The fierce combat ultimately concluded at Itoman, where volunteers like Gushiken uncover bones believed to belong to hundreds.
Gushiken places himself in the shoes of those who sought refuge, wondering where he would hide and what emotions he’d endure. He estimates victims’ ages and speculates on their causes of death, documenting these in a red notebook. Following the war, Okinawa remained under U.S. control until 1972, significantly impacting its socio-economic development compared to mainland Japan.
Today, decades later, about 1.2 million Japanese casualties are still unaccounted for. This figure comprises nearly half of the 2.4 million military personnel Japan lost in conflicts throughout the early 20th century. Bones, many still unidentified, have collected dust in storage awaiting DNA tests that might provide closure for surviving kin. Gushiken criticizes the pace and commitment of the government’s identification endeavors.
Post-war efforts have seen incremental progress. The Japanese government only initiated DNA matching in 2003, following advocacy from families. Initially, this testing was limited to remains accompanied by identifiable markers. In 2016, a new law aimed at boosting DNA matching and collaborations with the U.S. was enacted, setting a broader scope for testing. However, the identification process remains sluggish—only a small fraction of the thousands have been identified since the program’s inception.
Remaining challenges persist, with American soldiers yet to be found, and considering the potential remains of Koreans entangled in the conflict, the process grows even more complex as time elapses. Memories fade, artifacts vanish, and even bones deteriorate, making identification tasks more daunting. “The process is slow everywhere,” shares Naoki Tezuka, highlighting the desire not just for recovery but familial reconnection.
As Japan escalates its military preparations, sentiment on Okinawa is cautiously wary. The past reverberates strongly here, where many view any military buildup with suspicion. Notably, despite assurances, Okinawa remains central to U.S. strategic deployments in Asia, hosting a substantial American military presence which has sparked local discontent over pollution, accidents, and crimes linked to troops stationed there.
The Itoman caves exemplify the significance of preserving history. Gushiken advocates that these sites be protected from development, serving as an educational tool for future generations and for continued historical searches. Some Okinawans, echoing Gushiken’s sentiment, fear history’s lessons are being overlooked and worry about future implications. Tomoyuki Kobashigawa, whose half-sister was a war victim, hopes for DNA matches to bring closure and laments the government’s inadequate remorse over wartime actions.
“We hope for peace, independence, and respect for all lives,” Kobashigawa states, voicing a broad concern that the island’s tragic history might repeat if dormant tensions aren’t adequately addressed.
