[FONT="]The Re-Invention of the Japanese military tradition: Japan Ground Self-Defence Force officer remembers his service in Afghanistan[/FONT]
[FONT="]Foreign Affairs [09/23/2011][/FONT]
[FONT="]By Joshua Goodman[/FONT]
(Okoyama, Japan) Takahashi Kenzo is a Major now, but when he and two thousand other Japan Ground Self-Defence Force (JGSDF) troops were deployed to Afghanistan ten years ago, he was just a Lieutenant.
“I wasn’t anyone in particular,” he says, smiling shyly. “Just one of many very new, very inexperienced officers and men deployed in the wake of the American invasion.”
Major Takahashi doesn’t really look like a soldier. Skinny and of average height, and wearing large glasses, he looks more like a slightly older version of a high-school or college nerd. Yet this man is perhaps the closest thing that the modern Japanese military has to a war hero, and has been cited by many new recruits as their inspiration for joining the Self-Defence Forces.
His story begins in November of 2001, when the Diet of Japan determined to send a volunteer force of GSDF troops to support the American-led invasion of Afghanistan. Even then, at a time when the Self-Defence Forces were receiving expanded funding, the first foreign deployment of Japanese troops since World War II was highly controversial. “There were many in the Forces themselves who opposed the deployment,” Major Takahashi recalls. “Though obviously, we were deeply saddened and outraged by the attack on America, most of us had joined up to defend Japan, not to fight foreign wars on America’s behalf. Then too, there was the fact that – unheard of any other modern military – no member of the Self-Defence Forces had any combat experience, as we’d never even participated in UN peacekeeping missions.”
Indeed, even with the widespread acceptance and support of the Self-Defence Forces seen today in Japan, the Afghanistan deployment continues to attract criticism. Some have even speculated that the mission had far more cynical motivations behind it than a desire to help the United States – it has been theorised that the mission was part of a quid pro quo arrangement, that in return for American acquiescence and assistance in the Japanese military build-up of the late 1990s and 2000, the US government had extorted promises of Japanese military assistance in foreign wars.
“We weren’t active in the actual invasion,” Major Takahashi states. “We were deployed after the Taliban officially fell, to help with reconstruction work and to maintain order in liberated territory. Though it was made clear to us that we were to be…proactive in dealing with any militant activity, we weren’t to be passive in our reactions.”
The Japan Special Expeditionary Force was drawn from GSDF commands all over Japan – Takahashi himself had been stationed with the Northern Army in Hokkaido, but found himself serving with men from across the Home Islands. “Organisation was a major issue for the first few months of our deployment,” he notes ruefully. “It took a while before our men were able to work smoothly together.”
He grows more serious when asked about the darker side of the deployment. It has been estimated that over three hundred of the men of the Special Expeditionary Force had to be rotated back to Japan within half a year of their arrival in Herat Province, frequently suffering severe cases of post-traumatic stress. “We had…definite issues with morale,” he says carefully. “But it must be noted that, for a force that had no history or experience of combat, we performed acceptably. And our mission allowed us to develop a better knowledge and understanding of asymmetrical warfare, which allowed us to better educate our comrades who had remained in Japan when our deployment ended.”
The Japanese force was stationed in Herat Province, primarily responsible for Kohsan, Gulran and Kushk Districts in conjunction with other Coalition forces. This posting, right up against the line dividing Coalition and UIS-controlled territories in Afghanistan, would bring the Special Expeditionary Force into direct contact with the humanitarian impact of the Union of Independent States’ war effort in the north. “The entire province was awash with refugees,” Major Takahashi notes. “Mostly Pashtuns from the North, fleeing the Uzbek and Hazara-controlled areas – and, as we soon discovered, fleeing the UIS Army. It was a total security nightmare. The refugees had utterly no reason to love foreign troops, and most of them had brought weapons of one sort or another with them – any attempt to disarm them or to relocate them into camps could easily spiral into violence. Of course, such conditions were perfect for Taliban remnants.” He closes his eyes and bows his head slightly. “Many of our men – men under my command included – were killed or injured in Herat.”
He pauses briefly, but before I can suggest terminating the interview, he continues. “And yet, so often – what led refugees to react violently to us wasn’t hatred, it was fear. As we learned the local languages, as we began to – slowly – interact with them, stories about what was happening in the North began to circulate, stories that were confirmed by the soldiers of our allies.”
And yet, so much of this might have remained rumour until one day in mid-February, 2002.
“I was leading a patrol, about four kilometres East of Gulran village,” the Major recalls. “It was on a quiet stretch of road – though in Afghanistan, we learned to mistrust quiet places. There were fifteen of us, in a convoy of three Komatsu Light Armoured Vehicles. We were actually on the verge of ending the patrol, when it happened.”
On the road ahead, the Japanese convoy happened upon an unbelievable sight. “It was an old Toyota pickup truck, with…there were so many people on it, the flatbed was almost invisible. Mostly older men, women and children.”
In fact, as the then-Lieutenant’s report stated, the only younger men who were initially visible were in the vehicle’s driver and passenger seats, as well as four men on the road. All of whom were dead.
“Beyond them were maybe ten UIS soldiers, with a personnel carrier, and fifteen Uzbek militia – they were using old Soviet jeeps. The front of the pickup truck was riddled with large-calibre bullet holes, it was fairly clear what had happened.” He winces faintly. “Before I even noticed the bodies, I remember being puzzled, why were UIS forces on our side of the line? But then, I realised.”
As the testimony of the refugees would corroborate, the group had been pursued over the control line by Russian forces, intent on preventing them reaching Coalition military units. The refugees had come from Badghis Province, a territory that has now become known as the site of some of the most brutal atrocities of the Afghan War next to Kunduz.
“I immediately ordered our vehicles to pull up next to them, and the men in my vehicle – besides our gunner – to dismount. In retrospect, that was perhaps an unwise thing to do, given the tactical disadvantage we were operating at. But thankfully, the Russians seemed more puzzled by our presence than anything else.”
Calmly, ignoring the odds against his small force, the young Lieutenant approached the Russians and demanded to know who was in charge. “It turned out to be a UIS captain – I think he was Uzbek himself. I demanded to know what he was doing in our zone, he said that they’d been assisting Northern Alliance forces in searching out militants, and this group had fled, likely trying to pass off as refugees.” His lips set in a thin line at the memory. “It was so blatantly obvious that he was lying – we were speaking in English, and the few of his men who had English were laughing. But he thought that we’d just turn around, let him and those animals he was leading massacre women and children.”
Instead, Major Takahashi gave the order that ensured he would forever be remembered by the men and women of the Japan Self-Defence Forces. “I ordered my gunners to turn their weapons on them, and I ordered my men who’d dismounted to start leading the refugees away from the truck. The captain wasn’t expecting that – he asked me what I was doing, though with a few words that I doubt would be printable. I told him that this was our side of the line, and that we’d process the refugees, see if his story was true or not. I also told him that if any of his people moved towards us or the civilians, we’d open fire. He told me that they weren’t afraid of us, that they outnumbered us and they had more firepower. I said that that might be true, but even if they won, at least some of his men and their tame Northern Alliance killers would end up dead, maybe even him too. Then he got nasty, he said with all the death that Japanese soldiers had caused in the twentieth century, what the hell did I care if some Pashtuns got what was coming to them.” Major Takahashi’s back straightens, and just for a second, he looks like the soldier he is through and through. “I told him that whatever the Imperial Japanese Army had done in the past, the Japan Self-Defence Forces did not stand by and let murderers and criminals victimise the innocent.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I was lucky. They snarled at us a bit more, but they pulled back. They pulled back, and we got out of there…and we kept those people safe all the way back to Gulran.”
This incident, nearly unknown in the Western world, has become essentially a foundation myth for the SDF. Given their comparative lack of activity outside of Japan prior to the war in Afghanistan, the Gulran Standoff (as it’s gradually become to be known) has been held up by politicians and senior officers as the ideal to which all Japanese military personnel should hold. Major Takahashi, though, is modest in the extreme. “In retrospect, I was very reckless. Things could easily have gone wrong – without a generous measure of good luck, I and my men would have been dead.” He smiles briefly. “Though I was, and I remain, exceptionally proud of my men. They performed their duty admirably in the face of danger, and none of them flinched. Every one of those men with me that day had purest yamato-damashii.”
[AN - I figured this was a logical enough location for such an event, given that Badghis OTL saw the targeting of Pashtuns by the Northern Alliance - odds are it would have been even worse ITTL]