Memoirs of a Japanese Nurse

Paul Carty writes…

In 2016, Writers in Kyoto held an event to commemorate the centenary of the Battle of Somme. There were many participants, who read poems, newspaper articles and in one case the journal of a family member who had served in WWI. One of those who took part was Araki Eiko, Professor Emeritus of Osaka City University. She was invited to join because she was translating the diary of a nurse who had been sent to Paris with the Japanese Red Cross Relief Corps to help with the war effort. Takeda Hajimeko’s diary was published serially in a newspaper in Fukuoka six months after the war ended, and below is Professor Araki’s introduction to that diary.  (The article was first published in Stand To! and the editor’s permission was given to republish.)

The memoirs of a Japanese nurse on the Western Front

Hajimeko Takeda’s Notes by a Japanese Nurse Sent to France or Women Soldiers Dispatched to Europe: the Japanese Red Cross Relief Corps and the First World War
By Eiko Araki

‘Notes by a Japanese Nurse Sent to France’ written by Hajimeko Takeda was published serially in the local newspaper Fukuoka Nichinichi Shimbun, forerunner of the current Nishi Nippon Shimbun. It was half a year after the First World War had ended that Takeda contributed her memoirs as a nurse in a Paris hospital to the paper.

First, let me explain why and how she came to work as a nurse tending sick and wounded soldiers during the war in a foreign country far away from home. Japan’s involvement in the First World War is not very well known. When Japanese people talk about the ‘war’, it always refers to the Second World War. Even in Japan, the fact that the Japanese Red Cross Society (JRCS) had sent three detachments of a Relief Corps to Russia, France and England soon after the outbreak of the First World War is almost unknown. The foundation of the JRCS and its mission abroad brings to light a humanitarian aspect of imperial Japan, unfortunately ignored in the Second World War – an official denial triggered by the Senjinkun or the Japanese Military Code, issued in 1941, including the infamous rule ‘Never be taken alive. Never accept the humiliation of becoming a prisoner of war’. In 1854, after 200 years of maritime restricted trade, Japan was forced to open some ports and to end her isolationism. Twenty years later, during the civil war of Kagoshima also known as the Seinan War (1877), the JRCS was established under the name of ‘Hakuai-sha’. The staff of ‘Hakuai-sha’ helped rescuing both Imperial Army troops and insurgents, and thus observed neutrality, according to the spirit of the Red Cross. In 1898, when the Japanese Government became a signatory to the Geneva Convention, the organisation’s name was officially changed to ‘Nisseki’ or ‘the Japanese Red Cross Society’.

The JRCS provided relief in the 1894-95 Sino-Japanese War, in the 1900-01 Boxer Rebellion and in the 1904-05 Russo-Japanese War. On none of these three occasions were female nurses dispatched abroad. Women were only employed within the country in army and naval hospitals, and on hospital ships. Their work was successful, but the toll was great with the death of more than 40 nurses in 1904-05. The efficient medical services during the Russo-Japanese War greatly impressed many including Lieutenant-Colonel Sir W G Macpherson of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who admired the systematic relief work of the Japanese army, and the military-civilian cooperation during that war. His detailed reports to the War Office ultimately led to the establishment of Voluntary Aid Detachments or VADs in Britain in 1909. The VADs were modelled on the JRC nurses and were placed under the direction of the newly formed British Red Cross Society (founded in 1899). With a long Christian philanthropic tradition, Britain already had a number of charities who cared for the sick and wounded in wartime such as the Order of St John of Jerusalem or the National Society for Aid to the Sick and Wounded. The comparatively young British Red Cross Society (BRCS) had no intention to incorporate these existing organisations, but at least the VADs came under its authority.

By mobilising patriotism, discipline and subordination Japan strengthened its position in the world. The Russo-Japanese War was sometimes referred to as a humanitarian war on the part of Japan, as those wounded by Japanese bullets, which were smaller than Russian ones, quickly recovered, and the Japanese took great care of Russian prisoners of war. The Japanese humanitarian efforts were motivated by a wish to be recognised as a legitimate member of the powerful nations of the world.

Let me point out some distinguishing aspects of the JRCS or Nisseki, as it is now called popularly. Firstly, it was closely connected to both the government and the army and navy medical departments at its inception, which is extraordinary from a contemporary perspective, as Nisseki was a private charity organisation, independent from governmental authority. Secondly, it was under the auspices of the Imperial Family; the Emperor and Empress were both patrons and financial supporters, as they are now. The Empress Shoken Fund established 100 years ago still makes donations worldwide. Thirdly, it was highly centralised and bureaucratic: Nisseki set up local branches in every prefecture appointing governors as their heads with other civil servants following in a hierarchical order, and by doing so the number of Nisseki members increased all over Japan. Contrary to the initial assumption of the International Committee of the Red Cross that the Christian idea of benevolence was not congenial to Japan, Nisseki developed rapidly and soon became the envy of the world and the model to be looked at for guidance. Behind this expansion of Nisseki was the association of the seemingly contradictory ideas of patriotism and humanitarianism, which, they said, were deeply rooted in the Japanese spirit of chivalry or Bushido. The organised charity thus became more acceptable to the Japanese, and under military authority it mobilised non-combatants behind the war effort. Women were expected to play a part in ‘patriotism and comfort for the soldiers’ (Hokoku Jyuppei 報国恤兵) by nursing.

As for nursing, what was unique about Nisseki was that it centred on military nursing. In peacetime Nisseki gave strict training of three years to candidates at its own hospital in Tokyo and then the trained nurses were allowed to work in hospitals or private homes, and in time of contingencies they took care of the sick and wounded. After the Sino-Japanese War Nisseki hospitals were established in almost every prefecture to educate excellent nurses. (That is why there are many Nisseki hospitals in Japan.) It should be noted that the aim of Nisseki hospitals was the training of relief personnel for wartime rather than the treatment of civilian patients. Before this time nursing was given into the hands of old rough types of women without any knowledge of nursing. In Victorian Britain, nursing was an unskilled job and was done by the worst sort of women – dirty, sometimes drunken and glad to take bribes from patients. Mrs Gamp in Charles Dickens’ novel Martin Chuzzlewit is a typical example of such nurses. Older Japanese and Victorian British ethics did not allow a woman to nurse a man who was not her family member or relative. Owing to Florence Nightingale’s efforts nursing became a respectable job in the latter half of the 19th century. (The distorted image of Florence Nightingale as obedient and self-sacrificing was used as a model for a Japanese nurse.)

In Japan, the ‘Ladies Voluntary Nursing Association’ was started in 1887 by imperial princesses and aristocratic ladies, and it contributed to improving the image of nurses overall. The purpose of the association was to show ‘that nursing is no mean, mercenary profession, but … a very honourable one… in which a woman can aspire to be of direct service to the state in time of war’ (Ariga Nagao, The Red Cross Society of Japan: The Organisation and Activity in Time of Peace and War, 1904, quoted in Hutchinson, p 209).

When the First World War broke out, Japan took part with the Allies in accordance with the Anglo-Japanese Alliance formed in 1902. It soon captured the German concession of Tsingtao in China, and there Japanese nurses looked after the sick and wounded of both Japanese soldiers and German prisoners of war. (The prisoners were later brought back to Bando prisoner of war camp on Shikoku Island, Japan, and received humanitarian treatment, mixing with local residents and performing classical concerts. Some preferred to remain in Japan after the war.) This was the first time female nurses were sent abroad. The dispatch of Nisseki nurses was a result of their strenuous effort to provide medical services which they had displayed in past wars.

The society took the utmost consideration in selecting nurses: they were chosen at the headquarters and at each branch of the prefecture. Notwithstanding excellent nursing skills, they had to have a little knowledge of a foreign language, good health and a steadfast mind. Nisseki Toyota College of Nursing has extensive files from the First World War. In one of them the details of the nurses selected are kept: they were 20-40 years old, some had experiences of nursing in previous conflicts, some were decorated (after the Sino-Japanese War nurses began to be decorated for distinguished services by the Emperor), some were shizoku, descendants of samurai (at this time, shizoku became less powerful), some had special mentions of their looks – ‘good’ or ‘ordinary’. Summons to later military service written on a red postcard are also filed: Nisseki had a reserve system, and nurses had to keep themselves ready for service for 20 years (later shortened to 15 and 12) in time of contingencies, whatever their situation when summoned. During their term of reserve, they did not receive any fees, but they could easily find good jobs as they had received outstanding, expensive training at the society’s hospitals. It should be noted that all personnel employed by Nisseki worked on a non-voluntary basis unlike voluntary British or French Red Cross nurses. Relief workers had military ranks in wartime: doctors and superintendents were treated as officers, head nurses as non-commissioned officers and nurses as privates.

Below is a list of groups dispatched to the three allied countries (based on Toshihiko Kawai’s paper).

Russia (Petrograd)
1 chief nurse + 6 nurses (later 6 nurses added twice)
(+ 1 chief doctor + 2 doctors + 1 pharmacist + others)
December 1914 – April 1916 (16 months)
France (Paris)
2 chief nurses + 20 nurses
(+ 1 chief doctor + 2 doctors + 1 pharmacist + others)
February 1915 – July 1916 (18 months)

England (Netley)
2 chief nurses + 20 nurses
(+ 1 chief doctor +1 doctor + others)
January 1915 – December 1915 (11 months)

In Petrograd and Paris, they opened up their own Red Cross hospital, but in England they were allotted to several huts attached to the BRC Hospital in Netley, Southampton. A certain number of nurses were placed under Japanese doctors, the rest under British medical officers together with the British nurses. All three contingents were welcomed and treated as guests of the nation. The British contingent, on its way to Britain, calling at New York for a short time, was invited to dinner by the American Red Cross. They were greatly applauded as a model of the Red Cross Society in the world, referring to their strenuous work in Tsingtao and their humanitarian treatment of German prisoners of war. An American newspaper reported their arrival with a photo. Each dispatch was originally intended to serve for five months, but in Russia and France it was twice prolonged, and in Britain once. In spite of a language barrier their skill and attention were highly valued, as is shown by the prolongation of the term in every country. Olive Checkland, in Humanitarianism and the Emperor’s Japan, is rather sceptical about Japanese achievements, saying that ‘Were those Japanese units an embarrassment to the countries to which they were sent?’ or ‘Did the withdrawal of the JRC units – over two years before the end of the war – reflect the difficulties of the service?’ (p78). In spite of her sceptical opinion, it appears from reading the detailed history of Nisseki and other documentations from both home and abroad, their contributions were greatly appreciated. The main reason they had to withdraw before the end of the war was a financial one.

An interesting reference to Nisseki nurses in Netley is a memoir written by Morooka Sachimaro, a Japanese volunteer to the Canadian Expeditionary Force was. About 200 Japanese immigrants to Vancouver, who had been struggling for full citizen’s rights, eagerly volunteered to join the army and fought on the Western Front. About 50 Japanese were killed and the two names of the missing Japanese are inscribed on the Menin Gate along with the names of 55,000 other soldiers who died in Belgium and whose remains were never found. PHOTO Morooka was wounded after the battle of Vimy Ridge in Northern France and eventually sent to Netley. There he was surprised to hear British nurses speaking a little Japanese and found that Nisseki nurses had worked there some time ago.
The matron explained that those Japanese nurses were all very kind and conscientious and that many patients were attached to them as if they were their sisters. Morooka was a ‘blighty’ (wounded and not fit for fighting any more), so he went back to Japan via Canada and published, in 1934, On to the Arras Front, a memoir of his experience in the war, in Japanese. He wrote the book to record the chivalry of his comrades. In my research I have not come across any mention of this near encounter. However, this episode in the book testifies to how Japanese nurses were accepted and also how the world had become so small.

I‘ve been researching Japanese nurse memoirs for years and comparing them with the equivalent British and American ones. The First World War is sometimes called ‘a literary war’ because many educated young men volunteered to enter the British Army and wrote bitter war poems. Volunteer nurses, also well educated, wrote scathingly about their experiences. Some are comparable to modernist writings in their blunt, detached tone and fragmentary, collage-like style in depicting surreal hospital scenes and critical of the ‘war machine’. Up until now I could find only two articles written by two Nisseki nurses sent to France. One is Notes by a Japanese Nurse Sent to France written by Hajimeko Takeda, which is translated here. Another is by a chief nurse, Ume Yuasa, entitled Forty Years in White Uniform, an autobiography dictated by herself and written by the editor of a medical magazine at Nisseki Hospital in Houten or Mukden, (now called Shenyang) in Manchuria. It includes an episode on the dispatch to France.
Both referred to their motives in becoming a nurse. Takeda writes that she wanted to devote her life to humanitarian and charitable purposes in caring for the sick and the poor. Yuasa, devotional by nature, received baptism at the age of fifteen, and decided to remain single, devoting herself to God and the poor. She visited slums in Tokyo, as Victorian British ladies used to do. There she tried to care for the sick and gave her lunch box or what little money she had to old people. She was also impressed by the Nisseki nurses sympathetically taking care of the Chinese prisoners of war (with a pigtail), wounded in the Sino-Japanese War. These experiences motivated her to obtain qualifications as a relief nurse of the prestigious Nisseki. Takeda writes about how her family reacted when she was summoned to become a member of Nisseki Relief Corps.

She had already experienced relief work in the Russo-Japanese War. Her father said that this new mission would be a great honour not only for her but to the family for many generations to come. She felt honoured seeing the four ensigns of the Rising Sun, Tricolour and two Red Cross flags flying from the rooftop of the Nisseki Hospital near l’Arc de Triomphe. She, as well as Yuasa, was surprised to see many women from Paris society working at a pantry, comforting patients or washing their legs. The Japanese chief doctor, Shioda, an expert surgeon who was decorated by the French Government, had a different opinion about female volunteers who poked their noses into what they should not, and brought new women every day as if the hospital were a surrogate Paris society. Shioda’s story is told in the articles of Shimazaki Toson. He was a Japanese novelist living in France during the war, who sent reports to a newspaper in Japan. Takeda and Yuasa, on the other hand, greatly admired the philanthropic spirit of French Red Cross nurses working on a completely voluntary basis.

At first, the Nisseki hospital was unpopular because it was run by Japanese who did not know the French language and customs, but their devoted work and excellent skills soon changed this view: many French soldiers, especially seriously wounded ones, wanted to be admitted to the hospital. Takeda is reticent about their good reputation, but several of their heroic achievements are briefly recorded. For example, a corporal of the artillery shot deep in the chest at Verdun was kept alive as nurses continued pushing his heart for nine hours until his parents came to the hospital. He survived the operation, too. They were also reputed ‘dressers’ – the Italian Red Cross once inquired as to their skill in applying bandages. They also chided French soldiers who screamed with pain, telling them to behave like a man and a soldier. Comparing the wounds with those she saw in the Russo-Japanese War, she writes that she shuddered at the brutality of the wounds many times. Takeda also wrote, ‘As this hospital was only a two-hour drive from the battlefield, patients were brought in on stretchers. Nurses had to take off their bloodied clothes, wipe their bodies clean, and put Nisseki white kimonos on them’. It was the first time she ever took care of wounded brought in directly from the battlefront. Takeda also includes a terrifying experience of a German air raid in Paris in January 1915. Nurses were all prepared to die, some writing a farewell note, but they escaped a narrow death and were surprised to find the house next door completely destroyed.

These are just two examples of relief work experience given by the nurses themselves. Takeda’s notes provide vivid memories of her extraordinary experience. When I compare them with the writings of British and American nurses, Nisseki-trained nurses are more modest about their horrifying experiences. Vera Brittain and Enid Bagnold, both British VADs and novelists, wrote critically about hospitals and accused trained nurses of not being sympathetic enough to patients and of treating VADs as if they were inferiors. Bagnold, the more critical of the two about hospital staff, was dismissed after the publication of A Diary Without Dates (1917). Ellen la Motte, an American-trained nurse, is critical of the hospital, the army and the people on the home front. Her memoir The Backwash of War (1916) was immediately banned when America entered the war, as it would demoralise the troops. Another American woman, Mary Borden, a millionaire from Chicago, married to a Scottish clergyman living in Britain, volunteered for the French Red Cross soon after giving birth to her third daughter, though she had no experience of nursing. She proposed to General Joffre the setting up of a field hospital which she herself would fund. The general readily accepted. As the director of her own hospital, she employed la Motte. Borden was also downright critical about the war and exposed the miseries of wounded soldiers. They were all well-educated, intelligent and sensitive women in contact with intellectual circles. Japanese nurses, as exemplary women soldiers dispatched from the Empire, were obedient to their duties throughout. The reserve system imposed on them made it practically impossible to be married in spite of the encouragement from Nisseki that a woman’s place and womanly virtues are to be found at home. Nevertheless, they found satisfaction developing their own circles by being patriotic and being of service to the soldiers. European and American women were handed opportunities by the war, too, but the Japanese nurses, being a part of the Army and Empire, paradoxically gained more freedoms and played a part in the international world, a role which no Japanese women at that time could have dreamed of.