К 60 -летию окончанию мировой войны/

[Xinjing]

КНИГА
О СЛУЧАЕХ ПОСЛЕДНЯГО ВРЕМЕНЕ.
ТИТИН ПОТРЯСЕТ ВЕЛМИ. 666-е ЧИСЛО.

[Xinjing]

Воин –Освободитель….

[Xinjing]

Без комментариев…

[Голицын]

Что -то по Второй мировой никто не пишет...Странно. Тема интересная. Особенно по Китаю. Грамотной литературы по участию кит.вооруженных сил в борьбе с японцами практически нет.

[Xinjing]

Я вот ненадолго появился..Читайте на английском или на восточных языках там этого навалом...
ЧТо то всё политика да политика....Позже  допишу..

[bumali]

Я вот ненадолго появился..Читайте на английском или на восточных языках там этого навалом...
ЧТо то всё политика да политика....Позже  допишу..

своего нет 
у китайцев-то много - это понятно.......

[Голицын]

Кирилл! Не пропадайте на долго. Без вас тут пустовато. За исключением конечно, bumali.

[Xinjing]

Извиняюсь..На следующей неделе отпишу "эпохальное"...

[Savage2]

Хорошие рассказы.
Stories About Nanjing Shocked a Young Girl’s Heart

In the early fall, just after Japan’s surrender, I was a third-year student at a
girls’ middle school in Kishiwada. It was the most difficult of times. School
was closed. There was no more food left in the neighboring farming community.
We were barely staying alive by eating the vines of squash and
sweet potatoes that we cultivated beside the road. My mother and I went to
Niigata to buy some rice. After riding a train so crowded that even the
lavatories and luggage shelves were jammed with people, we finally arrived
at a farming village. Because there was no glass left in the windows of the
train, soot from the locomotive blackened the passengers’ faces when we
went through tunnels. We traded some money and our best kimonos for a
little rice.
That night we stayed in a cheap village lodging house. Everyone slept in
one large room under a huge mosquito net. I was beginning to fall asleep,
exhausted, when live or six men started drinking. They were all recently
discharged soldiers who were now professional black marketeers. Each
bragged about his exploits in the War.
It was unbearable to listen to them. They laughed coarsely about the
many Chinese women they had raped, and one told about seeing how far
into a woman’s body his arm would go, pushing his arm all the way in up to
the armpit.
I shot up off the mat like a windup doll and tried to rush out of the room,
tearing at the mosquito netting. In a panic, my mother grabbed me, warning
me to stay quiet because who knows what might happen. I kept quiet. And
still the men went on and on.
“Where was that?’
“Nanjing, we had the most fun in Nanjing. We could do anything we
wanted and steal anything we wanted.”
They said that when the soldiers got tired and hard to command during
marches, their superior officers would urge them to persevcrc a bit more,
promising them that they could do anything they wanted in the next town.
I remembered joining in the parade to celebrate the fall of Nanjing,
waving a handmade flag. Now I couldn’t bear it. I had used things we
needed dearly to fill comfort bags to send our soldiers; I had made talismans
and thousand-stitch belts; I had written letters nearly every day to
thank and encourage our soldiers. I was so shocked by what I heard that I
couldn’t sleep at all that night. I don’t think all our soldiers were like those
men. My uncle was a kind man who died young at Guadalcanal.
Those soldiers who did such terrible things in Nanjing and in other
places are now probably traveling and enjoying themselves, playing croquet
in seniors groups. I beg of you, please write the truth about the War.

Ozaki Junko, fifty-five (f),
housewife. Yokohama

[Savage2]

The Devil and Buddha Coexist on the Battlefield
Both the Devil and the Buddha exist in war. The Devil enters into people’s
souls, but human beings must find the Buddha for themselves. The main
character in the book The Harp o/Burma was someone who found the
Buddha.Five years ago we held our first reunion of wartime buddies. One man
who was a new conscript in 1942 commented, “1 was grateful to you, the
squad leader, for telling me not to go back then.” I had forgotten all about
the incident.One day, just after lunch, the private first class on duty notified us,
“Assemble the new recruits for roll call.” There was to be a stabbing execution
of a prisoner on the outskirts of the city. All new recruits were to gather
to observe this as a means of building up their nerve. As squad leader and
assistant training instructor, I saw no need for this, and didn’t allow my men
to observe it. This man had recalled that incident to tell me he was grateful.
Here was a soldier who had not lost his humanity.
I participated as a company headquarters signals NC0 in the Taihang
operations of autumn 1943. Thus I was often at battalion headquarters
away from my company. I had to lug around with me a large case containing
communications instructions and maps. I was armed with a bayonet and
l939-model pistol. Although the night temperatures on the border of Shanxi
and Hebei provinces dipped low in September, the sun during the day was
as strong as in midsummer.
Entering a village after our forces had passed through, I was about to
deliver orders from the battalion commander. I stopped dead in my tracks.
A boy about ten years old had fallen down, hit by a rifle bullet. Blood
stained the whole front of his body from his chest to his stomach. He was
foaming from his mouth. The harsh sun was beating down on his face. No
one from the village was in sight.
“I’ll make you feel comfortable,” I said. I aimed my pistol at his temple
and gave him a finishing shot. After making sure that the boy no longer
moved, I ran at top speed to catch up with our troops as they moved out. As
I ran, 1 muttcrcd to myself, “It was for the best, it was for the best.”
I wish that those who grow up without knowing war can develop a
resistance to war.

Mori Ishichi, sixty-seven (m),
company employee, Sendai

[Savage2]

Shot-Thought of Time Left Me
It was about 4 P.M. on 15 August 1945. I was clinging to a riverbank,
breathing the sickening fumes of the grasses, in battle against Soviet troops
across the river. The location was near the Yusong Bridge on the outskirts
of Chongjin in north Korea. (The cease-fire order had not yet reached the
front line units.)I had been leaning out to scout the movements of the Soviet troops when
suddenly I felt excruciating pain along with a great bursting. It felt as if hot
tongs were gouging out my right ear. I bad heard that if a bullet bits you
above the neck you have an eighty to ninety percent chance of not surviving.
“Damn it,” I thought, resigning myself to unavoidable death. I was
amazed that this made me feel serene.
I slumped down on the spot. The fleeting time I had left seemed infinitely
valuable. Bleeding heavily, I was trying to think with my muddled
senses. Having to die at the young age of twenty-six had never seemed
more regrettable than at that time.
A medical corpsman rushed over to treat my wound. As he bandaged me
up, he assured me that the bullet had missed any vital parts. I would be all
right. At this, I was immediately revitalized. My nerves grew tense. The
gunfire from the Soviet forces suddenly subsided. Instinctively I sensed that
this battle would end at sundown. A feeling of ease and equanimity welled
up inside me.
I looked at my fellow soldiers. Relief spread over their fear-strained
faces. The sound of gunfire stopped. The battle was over. Two or three
cigarettes glowed in the dusk.
When I think back on that time. having been near death, I am keenly
thankful for the happiness of being alive now and of having peace.
Kata Shunroku
sixty-six (m), union officer,
Ichikawa

[Savage2]

Devil Sergeant’s True Heart
I was drafted on 1 February 1945. Enrolled in the Nishiyama Company of
an independent garrison in the Kwantung Army, I was placed under the
command of a tough “devil” sergeant from hell. After three months of
arduous training consisting mostly of antitank attacks, we had our first
target practice with live shells. Two out of three of my bullets hit the target,
and I was made a light-machine-gunner.
My hardship increased after I became a gunner. Six-kilometer marches
lugging a light machine gun were difficult, and during exercises I had to run
at the bead of the troop. I was also exhausted from the time it took me every
night to keep the machine gun in good working order. If we were lax in our
care, the devil sergeant would slap our faces and scold us, saying, “I can
replace you draftees with a singie red card, but I can’t immediately replace
a light machine gun. It’s a valuable weapon.”
On 8 August, upon reports that the Soviet Union bad entered the War,
we were ordered to the Soviet border. On the way we passed evacuating
[Manchurian] colonizers. Our courage was boosted by their saying, “We’re
counting on you, soldiers,” as they waved to us.
We neared the front. Suddenly, a voice shouted, “Enemy air attack!” and
the devil sergeant yelled, “Take shelter in the sorghum field.” I jumped into
a creek, but with the weight of my machine gun, my feet slipped, and I
tumbled down. The gun sank into the muddy water and I couldn’t retrieve
it. It was then that I heard the sergeant say, “Hey, Nakamura, what are you
doing? Hurry up.” “My gun has sunk into the water and I can’t reach it.”
“Get the gun later. Hurry up, you’ll get shot.” I crawled up the bank of the
creek and ran to the sorghum field. Behind me was the sound of machinegun
strafing. Da-da-da! it chased after me. Just as I ducked for cover, the
bullets landed close to my body, bum, busu!
When humans come face to face with death, we finally learn their true
nature. To me the devil sergeant from hell turned into a Buddha, a saintly
sergeant from heaven.
Nakamura Toshio
seventy-two (m), retired,
Shimonoseki

[Savage2]

The Chanting MP Buddhist:
My Grandfather’s Teachings
I was born in a family of successive generations of fervent followers of the
Nenbutsu Buddhist sect. As my father had died when I was very young, I
grew up under the influence of my grandfather. When I was departing for
the Wuhan front as a reserve conscript, my grandfather came to see me off
at the station and handed me an envelope, saying, “Read this with care after
you have a chance to feel settled.” I took it out to read when I was alone on
the deck of the troopship as we crossed the East China Sea.
“Fate allowed us to be connected as grandfather and grandson for
twenty-some years,” he had written, “but we must be prepared for this to be
our parting in this life. As we have had the good fortune to be born in a family
of believers of this blessed sect, it would be most rcgrettablc if we are parted in
the hereafter. Let us intend to go together to the Land of Happiness by bclieving
in the Original Vow of the Amida Buddha. . . . Consider the place you fall
to be Paradise and advance along with prayers to Amida.”
My view of life and death during my military scrvicc was determined by
these words. I had no need for a thousand-stitch belt or a sacred amulct.
Running over to the first enemy soldier 1 sniped at, I saw that he was a
naive-looking raw recruit clutching some communications gear. What came
rushing out of my mouth were the words “Namu Amida Bufsu” [“I take my
refuge in Amida Buddha”]. As a member of the military organization, I
dutifully obeyed the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors and the Field
Service Code, but I was never able to believe in them. This was because
since before that time my belief in the Buddha transcended life and death as
the foundation of my soul.
When I was reassigned to the military police and was given a private
room in Nanjing, I copied the Nenbutsu onto a piece of straw paper with
brush and ink, put photographs of my parents below it, and tacked this up
on my wall. Using this as a substitute for a Buddhist altar, I offered my
morning and evening prayers. One commander on his inspection tour even
bowed deeply before my paper altar when he greeted me. I did not succumb
to the temptations of money, women, or desire for glory so readily available
to military police in an occupied territory. My grandfather passed away
shortly after I left for the front.
Ishii Hisao, seventy (m), farmer,
Gifu

[Savage2]

A Memorial to Three War Buddies
On 28 December 1937, a force of twenty-five men led by a platoon commander
was dispatched to a village in Lingshi County, Shanxi Province, for
pacification activity and to scout enemy movements. While we were resting,
we were suddenly hit by a concentrated attack. Enemy soldiers from a
mountaintop to the west strafed us with machine guns. The enemy numbered
over a hundred. Deciding that we were at too much of a disadvantage
to counterattack, the platoon leader retreated and assembled his men in a
safe location.
A roll call indicated that three were missing. The interpreter stated that
“A” and “B” were standing guard, while “C” was returning fire from the
roof of a house. We waited for them, but they didn’t return. Dusk was
falling. Fearing that staying put might lead to more casualties, we started
back. We took a long detour without stopping to sleep or rest and reached
our defense post the next morning.
At battalion headquarters, a rescue unit of three hundred men led by the
battalion commander was assembled and immediately set off. Reaching the
village where the attack had occurred the day before, they made a search.
They found out that our three fellow soldiers had been taken prisoner by the
enemy and their weapons and ammunition had been snatched from them. In
the -10’ centigrade cold, they were stripped of their army uniforms and,
hands tied behind their backs, they were massacred. It was unbearable to
look at the numerous scars of beatings and stabbings on their bodies.
Their war buddies knelt down and wept at how painful and wrenching it
must have been for them. This killing of human beings who are close
together--this is what war is. Though they were fighting for our country, I
wonder if any of the soldiers who witnessed this had a liking for the War.
Didn’t they feel at heart that, if they could, they would like to quit and go
home? I’m sending this in as a memorial for the repose of the souls of the
three soldiers.
Tanaka Norio, sixty-eight (m),
retired, Mie Prefecture

[Голицын]

Временами думаю о выстреле, остановившем меня. Это были приблизительно 4 часа после полудня 15 августа 1945. Я цеплялся за берег реки, вдыхая вызывающие отвращение пары трав, в сражении против советских войск поперек реки. Местоположение было около Моста Yusong в предместьях Chongjin в Северной Корее. (Сообщение о перемирии еще не достигло  линии фронта.) я высовывался, чтобы разведать движения советских войск, когда внезапно я почувствовал мучительную боль наряду с большим разрыванием. Чувствовал себя, как будто горячие клещи вырывали мое правое ухо. Я плохо услышал это, если вас ударила пуля выше шеи вы имеете шанс на восемьдесят - девяносто процентов на смерть. " Это кранты" я думал, направляя себя непосредственно к неизбежной смерти. Я был поражен, что это заставило меня чувствовать себя безмятежным. Я резко упал вниз на месте. Мимолетное время, которое я имел в запасе, казалось бесконечно ценным. Кровоточа тяжело, я пробовал разобраться с моими запутанными чувствами. Необходимость умирать в молодом возрасте двадцать шести лет, никогда не казалась более прискорбней, чем тогда. Санитар помчался, чтобы рассмотреть мою рану. Поскольку он перевязал меня, он уверил меня, что пуля пропустила любые жизненные части. Я буду  в порядке. После этого, я немедленно оживился. Мои нервы становились напряженными. Орудийный огонь от советских сил внезапно спадал. Инстинктивно я ощущал, что это сражение закончится в закате. Чувство непринужденности и хладнокровия вернулось ко мне. Я смотрел на моих соратников. Облегчение распространенилось по их напряженным лицам. Звук орудийного огня остановился. Сражение было закончено. Две или три сигареты пылали в сумраке. Когда я вспоминаю на том времени, будучи около смерти, я остро благодарен за счастье того, чтобы быть живым теперь и наличии мира.
 Kata Shunroku шестьдесят шесть лет, профсоюзный работник.
Я думаю, что корректней и все остальные ваши посты ставить, уже на русском?! Очень интересные зарисовки! Но мне кажется, что большинство гостей сайта не смогут их перевести?!

[liang _liang]

Ребята, у меня вот тут есть небольшая информация. Надеюсь на Вашу помощь. Заранее спасибо.
 
совсем недавно пришлось побывать с командировкой в г. Панцзинь (Panjin, 盘锦), который находится на Севере Китая, недалеко от г. Шеньян (Shenyang，沈阳). Во время обзорной экскурсии по городу, нам показали корабль времён Русско-Японской войны!
 
 Предположительно в 1904 году, в самом начале Русско-японской войны 2 корабля "镇海侯号“  и ”勇敢号" (к сожалению, не могу найти русских эквивалентов), после поражения наших в очередной битве, во избежание атаки японцев двинулись в сторону порта Инкоу（Yingkou, 营口）. "镇海侯“ тянул  "勇敢“на тросе.  На реке Санчха (Sancha river, 三岔河) "镇海侯“не заметил, как сел на мель и загруз, не имея возможности продолжить движения. Моряки ожидали приказа командования о дальнейших действиях и оставались на кораблях в течение 4-5 месяцев. Японцы за это время брали одну победу за другой. В сентябре-октябре 1904 моряки получили приказ на "勇敢“ двинутся в Инкоу, а там по ж/д- в Шеньян. Все ценности были переброшены с "镇海侯“ на "勇敢“, "镇海侯“ был взорван и потоплен, но "勇敢" из-за перегрузки потонул тоже. Моряки выбрались на берег, но были замечены японцами и убиты.
 
В 1958 году в лоне программы центрального правительства Китая по плавке стали, "镇海侯“(80 м в длину, 40 м в ширину) был извлечен. В общей сложности таким образом "добыли" более 2000 тонн стали!
 
В 1994 году достали "勇敢“. По оценкам экспертов - сохранился корабль довольно хорошо, наиболее полно сохранившийся исторический корабль в Китае. Длина корабля - 22 метра, ширина - 4 метра. До потопления, ему уже нащитывалось 50 лет! То есть сейчас этому кораблику - около 150 лет!
На данный момент, представители г. Панцзин обратились ко мне с просьбой, рассказать о  勇敢российским СМИ, поместить информацию на российские сайты, просто найти организации, общества, которые заинтересуются судьбой этого корабля и смогут помочь в сохранении памятника.
Корабль я видела. Стоит в парке в г. Панцзин под открытым небом ,правда, чтобы сохранить его от палящего солнца, дождей, его полностью накрыли целлофаном! Часть средств удалось получить от правительства на проведение косметического ремонта, чтобы корабль окончательно уже не рассыпался. Но этого мало.
 
Буду благодарна, если уважаемые форумчане смогут подсказать,  кому можно предоставит эти материалы, кто сможет заинтересоваться этим памятником, какие организации в Росси, Японии, Китае, может быть, кто-нибудь из уважаемых форумчан и сам проникнется этой проблемой.
Думаю, совместными усилиями мы сможем добиться результата.
 
Очень надеюсь на Вашу помощь！
Кто заинтересуется данным вопросом, пишите на мой электронный адрес:
 
[email protected] или [email protected]
 
 
С уважением,
Наталья