Published on July 13, 2019.
Based on an essay by announcer Suzuki Shiro published in the June 30 issue of the monthly magazine Sound Argument, this article introduces his childhood memories of Nanjing and his recollections of repatriation.
Through Suzuki’s testimony that the city of Nanjing he visited at age five was peaceful and lively, and that Japanese soldiers were welcomed by local Chinese people, it raises questions about the narrative known as the Nanjing Massacre.

July 13, 2019.
If a “massacre” had actually taken place, one would have heard fragments of such stories, but I never heard anything of the kind even once.
The following is a chapter I published on July 2, 2018.
It is from the monthly magazine Sound Argument, released on June 30.
Announcer Suzuki Shiro Speaks.
The Lie of the Nanjing Massacre and Memories of Repatriation.
This essay, titled “My Innocent Father Was Captured by China,” is a must-read essay for the people of Japan and for people throughout the world.
The time has long since come for people throughout the world to know that there is no lie anywhere in this essay, that those who are lying are China and the Korean Peninsula, and that the tragedy lies in the media such as the Asahi Shimbun and NHK, which have served as their agents, as well as the politicians who have aligned with them, the so-called human-rights lawyers, many of those who have held important posts in the Japan Federation of Bar Associations, the so-called cultural figures, and the so-called intellectuals and journalists of the world who are the same as they are.
Reading this essay by Mr. Suzuki Shiro, I could not hold back tears many times.
His experience of visiting Nanjing.
I was born in Showa 13, just after the Battle of Nanjing.
My father established a Japan-China trading company in Tianjin, also ran a company in Beijing, and worked to deliver military supplies and relief supplies to the Japanese Army.
Soon after, I crossed to the Chinese mainland with my mother, and when I was five years old, my father took me to visit Nanjing.
I do not know the details, such as whether it was one of my father’s business partners or someone who had received relief supplies, but we were invited to the home of a wealthy family in Nanjing with whom we had a connection.
It was something that happened when I was five, but I clearly remember that in the center of the city there was a long gate like a tunnel, with the words Zhonghua Gate written on it.
When we walked through the dark, long tunnel, many street stalls were lined up.
I vividly remember how, as a child, my heart leapt as I thought, “They are selling nothing but unusual things.”
The city itself was peaceful.
It was a peaceful and lively city.
I was never told to be careful because I might be attacked by Chinese people while walking through the city.
If a “massacre” had actually taken place, one would have heard fragments of such stories, but I never heard anything of the kind even once.
I never even had any awareness of a “massacre.”
So I never thought about any “scars” of it, nor were there any.
In the wealthy household to which I was invited, there was a Chinese lady called Ma Taitai.
She had a solid physique, was loved by everyone, and was also rather commanding; in Japanese terms, she was like a strong, big-hearted mother.
That Ma Taitai welcomed us warmly.
She held me in her arms, even carried me on her back, and praised my ears, saying they were “lucky ears.”
She had jade ornaments on her ears, and whenever she amused me, they made a jingling sound.
She even rubbed her cheek against mine.
In any case, the local Chinese people’s feelings toward Japan were very good.
That was because the reputation of Japanese soldiers was very good.
Japanese soldiers were certainly strong when they fought.
That was probably because the old Yamato spirit had been beaten into our generation.
Do it, no matter what.
Do not fear your own death.
The consciousness that it was an honor to die for Japan had been thoroughly instilled.
But though they were brave, they were not barbaric.
At the time, when I was five years old, I already wished, “Someday I, too, want to become a soldier, go to the front, and be completely annihilated in battle.”
That was my dream from childhood, and I wanted to enter a military preparatory school.
My father repeatedly told me, “Shiro, it is important for a soldier to be strong, but he must also be gentle and considerate.”
Even now, I feel that such a thought still dwells somewhere in my heart.
When Japanese soldiers captured Nanjing, the Chinese people who had fled were, rather, returning one after another.
Some even made armbands with the Hinomaru themselves and came back wearing them, I was told.
They were not afraid of Japanese soldiers at all.
Rather, their expressions showed relief, as if they could now feel safe.
That same feeling was the same when I was in Beijing and Tianjin.
Unlike Chinese soldiers, Japanese soldiers were welcomed by local people wherever they went.
In terms of discipline and in their attitude toward ordinary people, they were worlds apart from Chinese soldiers.
There was no rape of women.
Medical soldiers treated sick people, and they absolutely never took things by force.
When they received something, they always handed over military notes and said, “You can exchange this for money later.”
For Chinese people, such scenes were unbelievable.
That was because Chinese soldiers committed terrible looting and rape, and were hated by the local Chinese people.
What was especially terrible was that, when fleeing in defeat, Chinese soldiers attacked villages along the way, stole things, set fires, and committed rape, and some even did so wearing the uniforms and caps of dead Japanese soldiers.
This is something I heard directly after the war from a Japanese soldier who had served, and Japanese soldiers were angry about it.
There was also the great incident in which Chiang Kai-shek breached the dikes of the Yellow River and one million people died.
This happened in June of Showa 13.
The Japanese Army stopped its advance and carried out rescue operations.
I saw a photograph of Japanese soldiers floating local riverboats on the floodwaters and rescuing people affected by the disaster.
In today’s terms, it was truly a PKO activity.
However, after causing the great disaster of six million victims, Chiang Kai-shek launched a major propaganda campaign saying that the Japanese Army had done it.
As expected, the world did not believe it, and locally, Chinese people had actually seen Japanese soldiers, so they knew the truth.
For the Chinese people, the threat was the Chinese soldiers, who might do anything.
This article continues.