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Tuesday, July 29, 2025

21-year-old Kamikaze pilot Han Jeong-sil (한정실, 韓鼎實) delivering his last testament for radio broadcast before flying to die off Okinawa on June 6, 1945 (inset shows Kamikaze pilot 박동훈, 朴東薫 who died in March 1945)

In June 1945, as Imperial Japan was losing a brutal war against the United States, Korean support for the empire was rapidly unraveling. For years, the Japanese colonial regime had enforced State Shinto and mandatory emperor worship across Korea—forcing everyone, including schoolchildren, to bow toward the Imperial Palace in Tokyo every morning at 7 am in a ritual known as Kyūjō Yōhai (宮城遥拝). But it was becoming clear that no amount of coerced ritual could manufacture genuine Korean loyalty, which the authorities were going to need if the general Korean civilian populace was going to be mobilized into makeshift militias to fight Allied ground forces invading Korea by land.

Original caption: Corporal Kiyohara making an appeal to all Koreans for certain victory

So in desperation, Japan's colonial authorities turned to a new strategy: manufacturing Korean war heroes. Beginning in early 1945, the Keijō Nippo newspaper began idolizing young Korean kamikaze pilots who had died in suicide missions for the Empire. The first two were Matsui Hideo (Korean name In Jae-ung, died on November 29, 1944) and Lim Jang-su (died on December 7, 1944), whose cults of loyalty were pushed hard in January 1945. The Korean war heroes were not limited to deceased kamikaze pilots — one was Park Gwan-bin (박관빈, 朴官彬), a Private First Class in the Imperial Army who sacrificed himself destroying an Allied machine gun nest with an anti-tank explosive in Myanmar.

By June, two more Korean kamikaze pilots had become posthumous heroes: 21-year-old Kiyohara Teijitsu (Korean name Han Jeong-sil, died on June 6, 1945 off Okinawa), born in North Hamgyong province and Seoul resident, and 21-year-old Ōkawa Masaaki (Korean name Park Dong-hun, died on March 29, 1945 off Okinawa). But there was a new propaganda innovation this time—radio broadcasts of the pilots’ own voices, recorded just before they flew their final missions. These “last testaments,” delivered calmly into a microphone, were aired across Korea, creating the eerie effect of fallen heroes speaking from beyond the grave—not unlike the farewell videos of modern suicide bombers.

The film Love and Vows (愛と誓ひ), released in May 1945, fictionalized such a broadcast on vinyl, but Kiyohara’s and Ōkawa’s messages were very real, and played in Korean households and public spaces. His and Ōkawa’s broadcasts were accompanied by emotional newspaper reports on weeping families and patriotic villagers gathered around radios.

A Korean academic has written a (paywalled) paper on the Imperial propagandization of these Korean kamikaze pilots. Additionally, I used a detailed online roster of Kamikaze pilots, compiled by Japanese blogger, to verify their ages, death dates, and Korean names. 

[Translation]

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijō Nippo), June 13, 1945

The Voice of Corporal Kiyohara

I am convinced of the Imperial Nation’s certain victory, and although unworthy, I have received the Imperial command to attack as a member of the Heavenly Sword Unit. I am overwhelmed with tears of gratitude for this profound Imperial favor.

I am a man born on the Korean Peninsula. Though I am an inadequate person, I wish to express, as a token of my loyalty to the nation, the joy of having been born under the rule of the Empire and the benefit I have received from my training as an Imperial soldier—especially to the young people of the Peninsula who remain behind on the home front. I am still immature and unpolished, but if my words can serve in any way as a reference, I would be most happy.

The pure three-thousand-year stream of the Imperial Nation’s history also flows with the lifeblood of us on the Korean Peninsula. I firmly believe that this history is also our own. Ever since the distant Age of the Gods, the bond between Korea and Japan has never been merely that of so-called "next-door neighbors." Even then, our Peninsula was a child of His Majesty, a powerful and integral corner of the Imperial Nation.

Now, our homeland is at war with the United States and Britain. Conscription, long anticipated, has now been extended to us. Moreover, the path to participation in the Imperial Diet has also been opened. Many of our elders and seniors are already fighting. There is no greater honor than this. Now is the time for young men, burning with the purest patriotism, to step forward without hesitation, enter the military ranks, stand shoulder to shoulder with friends in the Japanese mainland, and fight the enemy.

Let us offer our blood and build a new, refreshing Greater East Asia. Let us not remain confined in a small shell, but rather take joy in serving our great parent (the Emperor), and pass on this legacy for a thousand generations. Even now, the solemn and majestic figure of the Chōsen Shrine comes vividly to mind, as do the people who continue to pay their respects there.

As I depart, I hold firm faith in those who will follow after me.
Young Korean people! Live righteously. Live strongly.
And protect the three-thousand-year history of the Imperial Nation.

This is my unwavering prayer.

Let Us Follow This Heroic Cry
Voices of Certain Victory from the Two Divine Falcons, Kiyohara and Ōkawa, Ring Across the Entire Peninsula

I am convinced of the Imperial Nation’s certain victory, and although unworthy, I have received the Imperial command to attack as a member of the Heavenly Sword Unit. I am overwhelmed with tears of gratitude for this profound Imperial favor.

Youthful voices, filled with fierce resolve, echoed through towns shrouded in the approaching dusk. At 8:05 p.m. on June 12th, the Seoul Central Broadcasting Station began airing recordings of the final words of two Korean-born Divine Falcons—Corporal Kiyohara Teijitsu (Han Jeong-sil 한정실, 韓鼎實) and Corporal Ōkawa Masaaki (Park Dong-hun 박동훈, 朴東薫).

In that moment, the Peninsula was enveloped in deep emotion. People across the land listened in solemn silence, determined not to miss a single word from the final voices of the Divine Falcons.

Ah, Corporals Kiyohara and Ōkawa—they left these words as a testament to the Peninsula, then boldly hurled themselves against enemy warships, offering their lives for the homeland in crisis.

Now, even the Peninsula is becoming a fierce battlefield. The enemy—those American devils—may invade the Peninsula at any time. Hearing the final cries of these Divine Falcons, who perished this spring as the vanguard of Korean loyalty, brought especially deep emotion to the Korean people.
The loyal spirits of these two Divine Falcons were seared deeply into the hearts of 26 million people, powerfully awakening a renewed fighting spirit.

I hold firm faith in those who will follow after me”.

Now, the Peninsula is burning with the resolve to answer this trust placed in them by the Divine Falcons, in the depths of profound emotion.

The Voice of Corporal Ōkawa

"As one of His Majesty’s people, I live with purpose. To have encountered such a time when Heaven and Earth flourish—what joy I feel."

Alone with my beloved aircraft, as I quietly surround myself with this song (Mitamiware), my heart is filled with an indescribable emotion.

Even now, I can already see before me the demonic American and British warships and B-29s. I cannot remain still. I am convinced that the spirits of those who came before us—our seniors, our fathers, and our elder sisters—are with us here, helping us.

Having come to this point, I shall demonstrate the skills forged by our instructors and assistant instructors through their blood and sweat, and I shall prove the strength of this spirit they instilled in us.

Even if our great battle achievements are never printed in the newspapers, I shall strike a blow—one aircraft, one warship. I will smash myself into that hateful enemy vessel and shatter my body into pieces.

To protect our history—let every person from the Peninsula become a special attack warrior and preserve this history for eternity. Know that this is the path we must take.

Let us all, swearing by the five articles of the Special Attack Code, raise the flag of the Rising Sun high and proud.

Father, Mother—please remain well. I deeply apologize for being such an unfilial son who has caused you many worries. But I believe that in light of this noble cause, you will forgive me. I go forward in high spirits.

To my younger brother and sister: Forgive your older brother for never having been able to care for you or do anything for you. Be strong. Live with pride and courage.

Lastly, for the first and only time in my life, I have composed a verse straight from my heart:

"Summoned to Yasukuni, this body—what regret can I have?"

Tear-Streaked Faces Lean Toward the Radio
Villagers Gather for the Broadcasts of the Two Corporals
A Stern Father Nods, a Sobbing Mother Weeps

As the soft crimson sun sank behind the western ridgeline, the lights suddenly flicked on. Gathered beside the altar were eleven members of the household, including the stern father Yeong-bin (영빈, 永彬), age 53, the mother Yeong-sook (영숙, 永淑), age 50, the second eldest brother Jeong-sun (정순, 鼎淳), and even the eldest brother’s grandchildren. They sat formally before the radio, holding their breath, awaiting the voice of their departed loved one.

Original caption: The Kiyohara family gathering together to listen to their son's broadcast.

That day, the home of the fallen Corporal Kiyohara Teijitsu (Jeong-sil) filled with villagers who had come to honor his noble sacrifice. They overflowed from inside the house into the yard, yearning for the sacred moment.

The second brother, Jeong-pil (정필, 鼎弼), age 27, had tested the radio repeatedly throughout the day, wearing a worried expression, fearing that static might interfere.

From across the quiet compound, the croaking of frogs echoed gently through the evening haze, accentuating the solemn stillness of the home.

At 8:05 PM, the solemn voice of the broadcaster announced the beginning of the program. The family members bowed in unison, placing both hands on the floor and lowering their heads.

I am convinced of the Imperial Nation’s certain victory, and although unworthy, I have received the Imperial command to attack as a member of the Heavenly Sword Unit. I am overwhelmed with tears of gratitude for this profound Imperial favor.

It was a strong, succinct voice, emblematic of the fierce fighting spirit of the late corporal.

"I am a man born on the Korean Peninsula. Though I am an inadequate person, I wish to express, as a token of my loyalty to the nation, the joy of having been born under the rule of the Empire and the benefit I have received from my training as an Imperial soldier—especially to the young people of the Peninsula who remain behind on the home front."

Villagers listening intently to the radio also bowed their heads deeply in silence. As the departed son spoke of the historical significance of Japanese-Korean unification and expressed joy in living as a subject of the Empire, his stern father, Yeong-bin, nodded repeatedly and closed his eyes in deep reflection. His mother, Yeong-sook, was already overcome with tears. She clenched her teeth to endure, but sobs escaped through her trembling lips. She was gripped by the memory of their final parting—when her son, Corporal Jeong-sil, had gently lifted her hand to his forehead in farewell and softly said, “Mother, you are still working so hard,” as he quietly stroked her worn, calloused hand. A single tear rolled down the father’s cheek and dropped silently into the hands folded on his lap. No one reached to wipe away their tears.

"As I depart, I hold firm faith in those who will follow after me. Young Korean people! Live righteously. Live strongly. And protect the three-thousand-year history of the Imperial Nation. This is my unwavering prayer."

The broadcast ended abruptly.

No one raised their head.

Following this, a poem was solemnly recited—a farewell verse left behind, beginning with "a young cherry tree was raised in the fields of the Peninsula..." The broadcast of Corporal Ōkawa’s message then began.

As the family listened, in tears, to the voice of the son and brother who had become one with the gods, the father, Yeong-bin, gently calmed them. He straightened his posture with dignity and listened attentively to Corporal Ōkawa’s broadcast.

Though brief, the broadcast was listened to by all with a longing and joy that surged from the depths of their hearts.

“He did it, he did it!” “He did such a great thing!”

As the program ended, voices of awe and admiration broke out from the crowd that had gathered.

Among them, a young man, trembling with emotion, cried out,

“Kiyohara-kun, you really did it. I will—I will do it too! I will follow after you!”

Tears streamed down his face, yet he made no attempt to wipe them away. He pledged before the spirit of the deceased.

Truly, that vow embodied the unshakable determination of the young men of the Peninsula’s home front, swearing to follow in the path of the shattered-yet-glorious Divine Falcons, Kiyohara and Ōkawa.

And in the softly swaying shadows of the incense smoke, the smiling portrait of the late Corporal Kiyohara Jeong-sil seemed to radiate with a quiet, resolute smile.

Photos: (top) Corporal Kiyohara making an appeal to all Koreans for certain victory; (bottom) The Kiyohara family gathering together to listen to their son's broadcast.

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijō Nippo), June 11, 1945

“From School to Battlefield”
A ‘Child of the Great Sky’ Who Bloomed in Death
The Home of the Brave, Corporal Kiyohara, Heavy with the Fragrance of Honor

Surrounded on three sides by lush green mountains, the home of the brave Divine Falcon Corporal Kiyohara Jeong-sil, heavy with the fragrance of valor, stands in 274 Jōdō-chō, Yeongdeungpo District, Seoul.

His stern father, Mr. Kiyohara Yeong-bin, had long served in government positions, and the family relocated many times across the country. Corporal Kiyohara, the third son, was born in Gyeongseong, North Hamgyong Province. After transferring between the Orang and Jubuk (주북, 朱北) Public Schools, he graduated from Bakcheon Public School, and then entered the Mining Department of Seoul Technical High School.

Corporal Kiyohara (top right), his father Yeong-bin (bottom left)

While in his third year, he was filled with a burning sense of loyalty and enrolled in the Imperial Army Youth Aviation School. There, he displayed a natural talent and, in [year and month redacted], received the Army Air Corps General's Prize, the highest honor for a student pilot.

Afterward, he trained at [base name redacted], and with great enthusiasm, deployed to the front. He joined the Heavenly Sword Unit and dove into the enemy formation, falling gloriously in battle, giving his life to the eternal cause.

Surviving family members include his stern father, Yeong-bin, his kind mother, Yeong-sook, his eldest brother Jeong-sun (age 32), who is a teacher at Ilsan Public School in Jangdan County, and his second eldest brother Jeong-pil (age 27), who works at the Seoul City Office. He also had two younger brothers and three sisters.

His father, Mr. Yeong-bin, now speaks of his late son while holding the pocket watch awarded for the Aviation General's Prize and a single cigarette bestowed upon the Heavenly Sword Unit members when it was formed.

He simply fulfilled his natural duty as a loyal subject of His Majesty the Emperor. That child was always saying, ‘I am a child of the great sky, a child of the great sky.’ Even though he knew the time and place of his death, he smiled brightly like a child and said that, when he returned, he wanted to make our house look nicer. When he graduated from the Youth Aviation School, his older brothers encouraged him to advance to the Air Officer Preparatory School or Aviation Officer School, but he firmly refused. He said that on the front lines, people were waiting—waiting for someone like him to arrive even a second sooner. Hearing him say that, we felt ashamed of ourselves.

Before departing from [base name redacted] after being assigned to the Heavenly Sword Unit, he stopped briefly at home. He asked me to write something on the Rising Sun flag. I wrote, ‘Special Attack Unit.’ He smiled and left. Now, I am simply overwhelmed with gratitude—he truly did well.

[Transcription]

京城日報 1945年6月13日

清原伍長の声

皇国の必勝を確信し不肖このたび天剣隊の一員として出陣の大命を拝し皇恩の深きに感泣する次第であります。

私は半島に生れた者であります。拙き身ながら皇国に生を享けた喜びと帝国軍人としての修養の一端を銃後の特に若い半島の青少年の方々に報国のつもりで申し上げます。未だ〇〇の未熟の者でありますが何かと参考になれば多幸と存じます。

皇国の清い三千年の流れには私達半島の血潮も咲いております。又一面この歴史は私達の歴史であると信じます。遠い神代からの御交りは俗にいう隣組ではなかったのであります。既にその時から私達の半島は陛下の赤子であり、皇国の力強き一角でありました。

今や私達の祖国は米英と戦っているのであります。私達にも待望の徴兵制が布かれ、また帝国議会参与の途も拓かれたではありませんか。多くの先輩達は戦っています。こんな光栄なことはありません。今こそ若き愛国の至誠に燃ゆる青少年諸君は何のよどみもなく軍門に入り内地の友と伍し敵と戦うべきです。

血潮を捧げ涼しい新たな大東亜を築くべきです。小さな殻に据われず大親に仕える喜びを味わい千載まで貽しましょう。斯くいういまでも森厳な朝鮮神宮の麗姿が、また引き続き参拝せられる人々が目に浮かんで来ます。征くにあたり後へつづく者を堅く信じます。半島の青少年よ、正しく強く生き皇国三千年の歴史を守らんことを祈って已みません。

この雄叫びに我ら続かん
清原・大河両神鷲・全半島に必勝の声

『皇国の必勝を確信し不肖このたび天剣隊の一員として出陣の大命を拝し、皇恩の深きに感泣する次第であります』

烈しい決意を秘めた若々しい声が夕闇迫る町々に響きわたった。十二日午後八時五分、半島が生んだ二神鷲清原鼎実、大河正明伍長の最後の言葉を伝える録音放送が京城中央放送局から開始されたのである。一瞬半島は深い感激に包まれ、神鷲最後の声を一言も聞き洩らすまいと静かに耳を澄ませるのだった。

ああ清原、大河両伍長はこの言葉を半島に遺して敢然敵艦艇に体当たり、危急の祖国に殉じたのだ。

今や半島も苛烈な戦場と化しつつある。敵米鬼はいつ半島に来冠せぬとも限らない。この秋半島尽忠の魁けと散った神鷲の最後の叫びを聞く半島の感激は一しお深く、両神鷲の忠魂は二千六百万の胸底にしっかと灼きつけられ新たな闘魂を逞しくよび起したのであった。

『後に続く者を堅く信じます』

半島はいま深い感動のうちにこの神鷲の信頼に応える決意に燃えきっているのだ。

大河伍長の声

御民われ生ける験しあり、天地の栄ゆる時に遇えらく思えば」独り愛機と共に静かにこの歌に包まれるとき、なんともいえない気持ちで胸一杯であります。もういまでも鬼畜米英の軍艦或はB29が目前にみえて来てじっとしておられません。必ずやここには先輩或は父姉等の精神が籠っていて我々を助けてくれると思います。こうなればきっときっと長い間教官、助教殿より血と汗をもってつくられた腕やこの精神でやってみせます。

大きな戦果が新聞に載らずとも一機一艦あの憎い艦にぶつかって身を粉々にしてみせます。歴史を護る半島人一人一人が特攻隊となってこの歴史を永遠に保ってくれ。それが我々の進べき道と思ってくれ。そうして五ヶ条の精神に誓って日の丸の旗を高く翻えそうではないか。

お父さん、お母さん。元気でいて下さい。いろいろ御心配かけた不孝者洵にすみません。しかしこの際の大義にはこのことをお許し下さることと思って元気で征きます。

弟よ、妹よ。兄は可愛がることも何も出来なかったことを許して、力強くそうして立派にやってくれ。最後に生れて初めての一句を心づくままに作ってみました。

靖国に召されるからだ如何せん。

耳傾ける涙の顔
両伍長の放送に集う村人たち
頷く厳父に嗚咽の母

薄紅の陽が西の山嶺に沈むとパッと電灯がともった。厳父永彬さん(五三)母掌永淑さん(五〇)を初め次兄の鼎淳さん以下長兄のお孫さんまで入れて一家十一人が祭壇の横に据えたラジオの前に端座し、固唾をのんで声の対面を待った。

この日神鷲清原鼎実伍長の録音放送を待つ生家には故伍長の遺烈を慕う村の人達が室内から庭前にまで溢れて聖なるひとときを待ちわびていた。

次兄の鼎弼さん(二七)は昼間から何度もラジオの試聴をして雑音が入らねばよいがと案じ顔だった。

烟の面を伝って蛙の声が尊い家の静寂を引き立たせている。

八時五分放送員の厳粛な声が放送開始を告げると家族は等しく両手をついて頭を垂れた。

『皇国の必勝を確信し不肖このたび天剣隊の一員として出陣の大命を拝し皇恩の深きに感泣する次第であります』

熾烈なる故伍長の闘魂を象徴するような力強く簡潔な語調である。

『私は半島に生れた者であります。拙き身ながら皇国に生を享けた喜びと帝国軍人としての修養の一端を銃後の特に若い半島の青少年の方々に報国のつもりで申し上げます』

じっとラジオに耳傾ける村の人達も深々と頭を垂れて聴き入った。内鮮一体の歴史的意義を解明し皇国の民としての喜びを語る我児の言葉に厳父の永彬さんはうんうんとうなる様に相槌を打ちながらじっと眼を閉じて聴き入った。女親の永淑さんはもうすっかり涙である。じっとこらえて喰いしばる歯の間から嗚咽が洩れる。最後の帰郷の時、母親の手をそっと押し頂いた鼎実伍長が『お母さんまだ苦労していますね』と脂気の失せた手を静かにさすってくれた在りし日の思出がぐんと胸を衝きあげてくるのだった。父親の頬を一筋すっとながれたものがボトリと膝に重ねた手の中に落ちた。誰一人涙を拭う者すらない。

『征くに当り後へ続く者を堅く堅く信じます。半島の青少年よ、正しく強く生き皇国三千年の歴史を守らんことを祈って止みません』ぶつりと終った。誰一人頭を上げようとはしない。続いて半島の野辺に育ちし若櫻...外一首の遺詠が荘重に朗誦され、大河伍長の録音放送に入った。

神と去りましし我児我兄の声に唯涙して聴き入る家族の者を父親の永彬さんは静かにたしなめると威儀を正して大河伍長の放送を傾聴した。

ほんの僅かな放送時間ではあったが、肚の底からこみあげてくる懐しさ、嬉しさで聴き入った人達である。

『やったやった』『よくやってくれたなあ』放送が終ると同時に集い寄った人群のなかから感嘆の声が巻き起った。なかに年若い青年は感激に身をふるわせ、『清原君やってくれたか。俺も俺もきっとやるぞ。あとから続くぞ』とあふれる涙を拭いもやらず霊前に誓う者もいた。まことこの誓いこそ玉と砕けし清原、大河両神鷲に誓う若き半島銃後の固い決意でもあるのだ。心なしかゆらぐ香煙の影に凛たる故清原鼎実伍長の遺影もまた莞爾とほほえんだことであろう。

写真=(上)全半島に必勝を呼びかける清原伍長、図内は大河伍長(下)我子の放送に一家揃って聴き入る清原家

京城日報 1945年6月11日

『進学より戦場へ』
散って咲いた『大空の子』
武勲一入薫る清原伍長の生家

三面を翠緑の山に囲まれて武勲一入薫る神鷲清原鼎実伍長の生家は京城府永登浦区上道町二七四だ。厳父永彬氏は多年官界に勤め、各地に転勤したが、同伍長は咸北鏡城にて三男として生れ、漁郎、朱北両国民学校に転学の後、博川国民学校を卒業。京城工業学校鉱山科に進学。三年在学中殉忠の意気に燃え、〇〇少年航空学校に入学。在学中は生まれながらの才能を発揮し〇年〇月少年飛行士の最高の栄誉たる陸軍航空総監賞を受け、その後〇〇基地にて訓練を積んでいたが、勇躍前線に出勤、天剣隊の一員に加り敵陣に突入散華し悠久の大義に生き抜いたのである。

遺家族は厳父永彬氏、慈母永淑さん、長兄徳淳(三二)=長湍郡一山国民学校訓導=次兄鼎弼(二七)=京城府庁勤務=がおり、その外二人の弟と三名の姉妹がいる。厳父永彬氏は航空監賞の懐中時計と天剣隊編成時に賜わった恩賜の煙草一本を前にして在りし日のわが子を思いながら語る。

天皇陛下の赤子として当然の本分を尽くしただけで、あの子は何時も『大空の子、大空の子』といっていましたが、死に場所も時も知っていながら帰って来たらもっと家を綺麗にすると子供のように朗らかに笑っていました。また少年航空学校を卒業した時に兄達が航空予科士官、航空士官へと進学を進めたが、あの子はきっぱり断り第一線では自分等を一瞬でも早く来るのを待っているといった時は却って私達が恥ずかしくなったのです。

天剣隊に編入され〇〇基地に出発する前に家に一寸よったが日の丸の旗に何か書いてくれといわれといわれたので『特攻隊』と書いてやったらにっこりと笑って征きました。ただただ今はよくやってくれたということで胸一杯です。

Sources:

Minor note: There is one place in the published articles where Jeong-sun (鼎淳) is mentioned as the second eldest brother (次兄), but this is probably a typographical error. Jeong-pil (鼎弼) is mentioned as the second eldest brother twice elsewhere in the articles.







Tuesday, July 8, 2025

Imperial Japanese and Korean collaborator elite partied in brothels and luxury restaurants while ordinary Koreans starved in wartime Seoul, early 1945

Below is a translation of an Imperial Japanese news article from the Keijō Nippo (京城日報), dated March 5, 1945, reporting on the café, bar, restaurant, and brothel scene in Seoul during wartime Japan's final months.

Original caption: "Shoes tightly packed into a restaurant’s entrance shoe rack"

As Japan’s war effort was collapsing and ordinary Koreans were suffering under brutal rationing and forced labor, this newspaper published what appears to be a belated and bitter acknowledgment of what most people already knew: the cafés, bars, restaurants, and brothels in Seoul were thriving—illegally and opulently—serving the colonial elite. Apparently, the elite customers would typically bring their own food and drinks for the establishment to prepare and serve, and book the entire place for themselves to ensure privacy. The customers would be served by waitresses who acted more like hostesses at hostess clubs, where beautifully dressed women would entertain guests with conversation and drinks and also play musical instruments like traditional changgo (장구) drums or shamisen.

The article complains about how kappō restaurants and so-called “public comfort” establishments had, in reality, reverted back to luxury entertainment venues. Senior waitresses (nakai) were earning five times their prewar income through enormous tips, openly catering to clients who could pay. These clients were powerful and well-connected Japanese people and Korean collaborators who still enjoyed privilege and access, even as bombs fell and food shortages worsened. Even the wartime attire regulations did not really apply to the elite - while ordinary Korean women were being punished for wearing chima skirts, elite Korean women could apparently still openly wear them within these exclusive establishments.

While common people faced deprivation and police surveillance, a privileged few continued to drink, be entertained, visit brothels in the Shinchō red light district, and enjoy “business meetings” in private rooms. This article, written in a moralizing tone presumably to shame the powerful clients as well as the proprietors of the establishments, inadvertently exposes the double standard and severe social inequality of wartime colonial society. 

This article also includes some interesting statistics breaking down the ethnicities of the proprietors of the different entertainment establishments. Apparently, a disproportionately large number of the proprietors of these establishments were ethnic Japanese, even though they made up only about 3% of the population of Korea at the time.

[Translation]

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijō Nippo) March 5, 1945
Sunday Paper Investigation
"The Proliferation of Business Meetings at Kappō Restaurants"
"Waitresses Driven by Tips"

It has now been exactly one year—five days ago—that high-class entertainment establishments were banished from the streets of the home front fighting for victory. This anniversary provides a fitting opportunity to reflect on how the year of wartime austerity unfolded and to subject the current state of affairs to renewed scrutiny as the ferocity of battle intensifies.

...◇...

On March 5, 1942, the government enforced the suspension of high-end restaurants in order to directly bolster military strength. As a result, 24 restaurants run by Japanese, 8 run by Koreans, and 6 run by Chinese in Seoul, along with 15 Japanese-run cafés and bars, 22 Korean-run ones, and 25 other entertainment venues such as billiard halls, were all ordered to change direction in the face of the enemy in the name of certain victory, without objection or exception.

In their place, a new type of establishment emerged: kappō restaurants (traditional Japanese eateries) aimed at providing comfort for the general public. Nine of these were opened by Japanese proprietors, and four by Koreans. Among them, two or three eventually converted into brothels (kashizashiki), but overall, high-class entertainment had ostensibly disappeared from the streets.

However, some individuals could not entirely purge the “enemy within the heart” lurking in society’s shadows, and ended up turning these public comfort-oriented kappō restaurants right back into the kind of exclusive fine dining establishments they were meant to replace. One welcome change brought about by emergency measures was the disappearance of the word “banquet” (enkai). In its place, however, “business meetings” (uchiawasekai) and “conferences” (kondankai) began to dominate these restaurants without any scheduling or moderation, to the point that full-house signs and being turned away at the door became commonplace.

Let us now examine this constant full-house status by comparing revenue statistics from the 1943 and 1944 fiscal years.

In fiscal year 1943 (prior to emergency measures), the combined revenue of 75 restaurants, cafés, and bars totaled 42,881,028 yen. In fiscal year 1944, despite having only 10 restaurants and a dozen or so eateries still operating, the total revenue still reached 36,897,302 yen and 16 sen (through March). The decline is a mere six million yen. When compared with the sharp decrease in the number of establishments, it becomes crystal clear how insufficient the public restraint on pleasure-seeking truly is. One cannot help but question the sincerity of these emergency measures. Has high-class entertainment really been relinquished? It makes one want to stand at the entrance of a kappō restaurant and ask the question aloud.

The fault lies with both the proprietors and the waitresses (nakai). The proprietors exploit wartime shortages by requiring customers to bring their own food and drink—if not, they are told, “Sorry, there is no sake,” with a clearly suggestive tone. As for the waitresses, the solemn vows they made last spring to change their ways have apparently vanished. Although they may wear monpe (work pants for women) instead of traditional chima or kimono, in some places even that is prohibited by the proprietors. Instead, the waitresses appear in garish makeup, attend guests at their tables, and in the most outrageous cases—though not beating changgo drums or playing shamisen—they sing and drink with customers. At that point, they are no longer barely-tolerated “carrying women” (hakobionna); they are simply hostesses. One is left with no choice but to cry out, “Is this really acceptable?”

These waitresses will not even glance at a ten or twenty yen tip. As a result, their service to customers is shockingly unfriendly and indifferent.

In light of this, it would be wise for remaining proprietors and waitresses to reconsider their stance in comparison to those who resolutely exited the industry. At this rate, one could say they are greedily making up for the income of their retired peers. We have already seen the revenue figures for proprietors, but what of the waitresses' earnings? While it varies from person to person, even the lowest earners are said to bring in 1,200 to 1,300 yen per month, and many exceed 2,000 yen. This is a remarkable income—easily five times what they used to make before. It is not wrong to earn money, but the approach should be one of sincere hospitality toward all customers.

Let us now consider the cafés that converted into eateries. These too become overcrowded by 5:30 p.m., with lines out the door. The proprietors charge exorbitantly, and the waitresses are unfriendly and lack even the slightest charm.

What is even more frustrating is the situation with the brothels (kashizashiki). In fiscal year 1943 (before emergency measures), they reported a revenue of 5,281,873 yen and 38 sen, but in fiscal year 1944 (through February), this skyrocketed to 7,813,880 yen and 91 sen—and this is only for the Shinchō district.

At this point, one is left speechless. Can anyone still claim that the night streets have exercised restraint? We must rethink this. The enemy is already closing in on our doorstep. It is fine to drink, but let us do so within reason, as befits citizens of a nation at war. Let today mark a sincere new beginning.

Now, as for the reality on the ground for business owners, it is—as seen above—far from commendable. But what about the customers? Half the blame for this situation lies with them. Among government offices, controlled corporations, and other circles, are there not some who sweat nervously when reflecting on this past year of supposed restraint?

[Photo caption: Shoes tightly packed into a restaurant’s entrance shoe rack]

[Transcription]

京城日報 1945年3月5日

日曜紙上査察
割烹に打合会氾濫
チップで動く仲居達

戦う銃後の街から高級享楽面を追放して早やきょう五日で満一年になった。そこで非常措置の精進一年が如何に送られたかを振り返って見、戦いの烈しさがその度を加えて来る今日の再批判の資としよう。

...◇...

昭和十七年三月五日政府は直接戦力の増強へ高級料理屋の休業を断行した。これで京城府内の料理屋内地人側二十四軒、半島人側八軒、中華人側六軒にカフェー、バー内地人側十五軒、半島人側二十二軒、その他玉突などの享楽場二十五軒が必勝目指して理窟抜きに敵前転進をした。そこで新たに店開きしたのが大衆の慰安場として登場した割烹店で内地人側が九軒に半島人側が四軒である。そのうちには貸座敷に転業したのも二、三軒はあるが、これで一応は高級享楽が街から返上された。

だが一部人には未だに片隅に巣くった『心の敵』を追放し切れなくて大衆の慰安場であるべき割烹店を昔に変らぬ高級料理店にして了った向がある。非常措置後嬉しいことには宴会という名は聞こえなくなった。その代り、打合会に懇談会がこの割烹店を占めて計画なしにひょっこり行っては満員の札止めで玄関払いが常識となった。ではこの連日満員の盛況振りを十八年度と十九年度の水揚高から見よう。

十八年度非常措置前料理屋、カフェー、バーをひっくるめた七五軒の水揚げが四千二百八十八万一千二十八円であるのに十九年度料理屋十軒、食堂十数軒の水揚げが三千六百八十九万七千三百二円十六銭(これは三月分迄)となっている。減少は僅か六百万円。しかも料理店の減っていることとにらみ合わせれば如何に享楽面の自粛が足らないのかはっきりと判る。これでは何の非常措置であり、何処に享楽返上をしているか。割烹店の玄関に立って訊いて見たくなる。

これは業者と仲居だが、業者は物資不足につけ込んで価も物も客の持込みでなければ『酒がありませんがね~』と暗に断り仲居達は昨年の春転進を誓った決意は何処へやらチマや和服の代りにモンペは履いたもののーいや中には店主が仲居にモンペを穿くことを禁じている店すらある。そのけばけばしいお化粧で席にはべり、甚だしいのはチャンゴではないが、三味線は引かぬが、酒を飲み唄っているのがある。これでは辛うじて残存を許された運び女ではなかろう。これでよいのかと叫びたくなるではないか。仲居のチップも十円や二十円じゃ鼻も向けず、自然客の応接に不親切極まるものがある。

これでは残存業者や仲居達は同業者が同輩が雄々しく転業したことを考え直してみるべきだ。現状からすれば転廃業したものの分まで稼ぐのだという感がないともいわれまい。業者は水揚げで判ったが、仲居の収入は?各人異なる訳だが、月に最小千二、三百円から二千円を越すのだという。大した新興所得で従前の五倍は優に稼ぐ訳だ。稼ぐのが悪いとはいわない。どの客にも一卒的な親切心で行こうというのである。

次はカフェー転向の食堂だがここも五時半になれば超満員の上列だ。業者はボル上女給は不親切で愛想もなんにもない。なお腹ただしいのは貸座敷街で措置前の十八年度は水揚げが五百二十八万一千八百七十三円三十八銭であったのが十九年度は(二月分迄)七百八十一万三千八百八十円九十一銭にはねあがっている(以上新町分のみの統計)。

これまで来ると、ただ呆然として言うこともない。これで夜の町は果して自粛せりと言える者があるだろうか。今一度ほんとに考えよう。敵はもう我々の身辺に迫っているのだ。飲むのもよいが戦う国民の分を過ぎないように心を引締めてきょうからは真に再出発しよう。

ところで業者の実態は以上の通りまことに香しくないが、客の方はどうか。業者のこのようにした罪の半ばは客の方にある。官庁、統制会社その他の方面に、自粛一年をふりかえって、そっとわきの下に汗する向きはありませんか【写真=料理屋の下駄箱にぎっしりならんだ靴】

Source: National Library of Korea, Digital Newspaper Archive

April 1945 Seoul dining: the public endured price-gouging and scraps, while privileged Japanese and Korean collaborator elites drank and feasted behind closed doors

As Imperial Japan’s war effort was collapsing in spring 1945, life in colonial Seoul grew increasingly desperate. Ordinary Koreans were suff...