The stories of Kichizo and Paprika.

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Subject: Kichizo

The following is excerpted from _Horses in Japan_, Vivien Kenrick,
JA Allen (c) 1964 and seems to be a translation from
a separate Japanese text.
_Horses in Japan_ is a so-so book, mostly short passages about
past and present (to about 1964!) horses in Japan, mythology, stories,
present uses, etc..  Printed in Japan for JA Allen.  I bought it
as a clearance title from Robin Bledsoe, as it was cheap and had the
magic text string "*horse*" in it...
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"Earth and Soldiers." From "Wheat and Soldiers" by Corporal Ashihei Hino.
Translated by Baroness Shidzue Ishimoto.

                            October 28, 1937
                            Aboard the (Censored) Maru.
Dear Brother:

Again today, there is the blue sky and the blue water.
And here I am writing this while lying
on the upper deck of the same boat.  I wish this
were being written at the front, but not yet.  All
I can tell you is about the soldiers, lolling about
the boat, the pine groves and the winding, peaceful
line of the Japanese coast.  What will be our
fate?  Nobody knows.  The speculation about our
point of disembarkation is still going on.  Rumors
that we are bound for Manchukuo are gaining
strength...

This sort of life, while it is bad for the men
because it is too easy, is even worse for the war
horses, down in the hatch.  They have been stabled
below decks, in the dark and unhealthy hole(sic).  Sometimes,
you can see them, clear down in the hold standing
patiently in the darkness.  Some have
not survived so well.  They have lost weight.
Their ribs are showing and they look sickly.
(ed note:  During shipping of horses to the British in the Crimean War,
almost half of the shipped horses died enroute if they were
unlucky enough to be shipped by older transport ships.
There are a lot of unpleasant stories about shipping horses by sea.)

They have the best in food and water.  Actually,
they get better care than the men.  Does it
surprise you to know that, in war, a horse may
be much more valuable than a man?  For example,
the horses get all the water they need.  On the
other hand, the supply of water for the men is
limited, barely enough for washing, let alone the
daily bath to which we are accustomed.
(ed. note:  US President Lincoln once wistfully
wished he could exchange a division of soldiers for an
equal number of horses, the carnage of horseflesh was so
great during the American Civil War)

From that standpoint, the horses are much better
off than we are.  But the poor creatures have
no opportunity for exercising, breathing fresh air,
and feeling the sunlight.  They are growing
weaker.  With my own eyes, I have seen a number
of them collapse.

I never looked at a war horse, without thinking
of poor Yoshida Uhei, who lives on the hillside,
back of our town.  In my memory, they are always
together, just as they were before the war
ever came.  It is impossible to disassociate one
from the other.

Perhaps you do not remember Uhei.  He was a
carter.  He had a wagon, with which he did hauling
jobs.  His horse, Kichizo, drew it.
(ed note:  the "o" is Kichizo has a long vowel mark over it)

In all my life, I have never known such affection
between man and animal.  Kichizo was a big,
fine chestnut, with great, wide shoulders and chest,
and a coat like velvet.  It used to shimmer in the
sun and you could see the muscles rippling underneath
the skin.  Uhei cared for Kichizo like a
mother with a baby.

I suppose this can be explained, as least in part,
by the fact that Uhei had no children.  He was
already past forty, but his wife had never conceived.
Undoubtedly, Uhei long ago gave up hope
of having a child.  So all his affection turned toward
Kichizo, the horse.  You have heard fathers
brag about their sons?  In a way, he did the same
thing about Kichizo.  "What strength!" he would
say, "and yet how gentle he can be.  He's a dear
fellow, that Kichizo, even though he is so big and
strong."

Then the war came.  It came clear down to our
little town, into nooks and corners of the country,
taking men and horses.  Kichizo was commandeered
by the army.

When he heard the news, Uhei was speechless
with surprise for a while.   I remember it very
well.  "The army needs your horse, Uhei," someone
told him.  "It is for the nation."  Uhei looked
at the speaker with dumb disbelief in his face.
His eyes were frozen, uncomprehending.  "Don't
worry," they told him, "Kichizo will be all right.
He isn't a cavalry horse.  He won't be in any
danger.  They'll use him behind the lines, to pull
wagons. It won't be anything different than what
he does here.  and the army takes good care of
its horses.  They're very important.  don't you
worry about him."

Uhei turned away without speaking and began
to run toward his home.  He broke into a dead run,
like a crazy man, and we saw him disappear behind
the bend in the road.  "He'll be all right,"
someone said, "after all, it's only a horse."

That same afternoon, Uhei came back to town.
He looked different then.  He was smiling and his
eyes were shining, and he swaggered around the
streets.  "Have you heard the news?"  he kept
saying,  "Kichizo, my horse, is going to the war.
They need big strong fellows for the army, so of
course Kichizo was the first horse they thought
about.  They know what they're doing, those fellows.
They know a real horse when they see
one."

He went to the flagmaker and ordered a long
banner, exactly like the ones people have when
a soldier is called to the war.

"Congratulations to Kichizo on his entry into
the army," this banner said, in large, vivid characters.
Uhei posted a long pole in front of his house,
high on the hillside, and attached this banner.  It
streamed out in the wind, where everyone could
see.  Uhei was bursting with pride.  As soon as
the banner was up, he took Kichizo out from the
field and pointed up to where it floated gracefully
above the house.  "You see that, Kichizo,"  he said.
"That's for you.  You're a hero.  You've brought
honor to this village."

Meanwhile, Uhei's wife, O-shin, was carrying
this human symbolism even further.  She bought
a huge piece of cloth and began preparing a
"thousand-stitches belt" for the horse.
   (footnote:  the "thousand-stitches belt" is a talisman,
    with red threads sewn by
    well-wishers for a Japanese soldier when he leaves for
    the front.  It is supposed to protect him from wounds.)

This cloth that O-shin bought was big enough
to cover four or five men.  When she stood in the
street, asking passers-by to sew a stitch, the all
laughed, but they did it.  She had a needle that
she borrowed from a matmaker to do such a big
piece of work.  When the stitches were all in, she
herself worked all through one night, finishing the
belt.  It was very difficult, with such a big needle,
but she finished it.

They put the good-luck belt around Kichizo's
middle, just as though he were a soldier.  At the
same time, Uhei visited a number of different
shrines in the neighborhood and bought lucky
articles.  O-shin sewed them into the belt.

And finally, he gave a farewell party and invited
all the neighbors.  Uhei was not a rich man
and he couldn't afford it.  If he had any savings,
they were all spent that night.  I was among
those he invited.  I took as a gift, a bottle of wine.

Most of the guests were already there, in Uhei's
neat little house, by the time I arrived.  They
were in good humor, laughing and drinking.  Uhei
was excited and bustling around, seeing to everything.
His eyes were glistening.  "Yes, it's rare
to find such a wonderful horse," he said.  "You
seldom find a horse with so much spirit and intelligence
and at the same time so strong and
vigorous.  Oh, he'll show them!  I'm so happy.
Have a drink!  Have many cups of wine for this
happy occasion!"

There were tears rolling down his cheeks as he
spoke and the bitter salt mingled with the wine
he was drinking.  Everyone was making a noise,
laughing and talking and roaring jokes.  O-shin
kept hustling in and out of the kitchen, bringing
hot food and warming the wine.  She was a plain
little thing, drab, I used to think.  But that night,
smiling and exuberant, she seemed transformed
and almost beautiful.

When the party was at its height, Uhei suddenly
jumped up from the table and ran outside.  We
heard the heavy clomp-clomp of a horse, walking
through the front yard.  And then, through an
open widow, (sic) Kichizo's long graceful neck came
in.  His head stretched all the way to teh banquet
table.  He looked at us gravely;  I again had the
feeling that he knew all about this occasion, and
knew it was for him, and what it meant.

Uhei ran into the room again and threw his
arms around the horse's neck, and gave him boiled
lobster and some octopus, and poured the ceremonial
wine into his mouth.  "To Kichizo," he
cried.  "Dear, brave Kichizo!" We all stood and
drank and roared "Banzai!" three times.  It must
have seemed a little silly and sentimental.  Yet,
Uhei had inoculated us all with something of the
love he had for that horse and it seemed natural
enough to us.

In the later afternoon of the next day, I saw
Uhei at Hospital Hill, returning from the army
station.  He had delivered Kichizo to them.  I
spoke to him, but he seemed not to recognize me,
nor to have heard my voice, for he walked on a
few paces.  Then he turned and acknowledged
the greeting in a distant, absent-minded sort of
way.  He looked haggard and sickly, as though
he had lost his strength, and he left me hurriedly.
All he said was "Kichizo has gone."

later, someone told me how he brought the
horse to the station.  It was a terribly warm day.
So Uhei took his own grass hat, cut two holes in
the side for Kichizo's ears, and put it on the
horse's head.  Poor Kichizo, that heavy
"thousand-stitches belt" must have been very warm and
uncomfortable in such weather. Besides, Uhei had
decorated him with national flags, so that he looked
like some sacred animal on the way to dedication
at a shrine.  I suppose he felt just that way
about him.

O-shin accompanied them, holding the reins, as
they walked to the station.  It was a curious and
sad little trio, the man and woman with that great
sleek horse in its strange attire, walking slowly
down the hillside, through the village and up the
other side.  Everyone watched silently.  No one
laughed.

At the army station, a good many other horses
were already gathered together in the yard.  They
had been examined by the army veterinarians before
being accepted.  Now they were merely waiting
to be taken away ton the train.  No one knew
just when it would come.

O-shin left immediately, but Uhei stayed and
stayed beside Kichizo, patting its hip and running
his fingers through its mane.  At first, the soldiers
laughed, just as the people in the village had done.
But they soon saw how Uhei felt about his horse
and then they told him, kindly.  "don't cry,
Uncle.  It's a great promotion for your horse,
isn't it?  He's going to serve the nation now, instead
of pulling a cart around the village.  That's
something, isn't it?  Well, then, cheer up.  Besides,
he'll get better care in the army than you
could ever give him.  Don't you worry.  He's going
to be all right."   So they tried to console Uhei.
Nevertheless, he stayed until dark.

Early the next day, he was back at the army
station, fussing over Kichizo.  Of course, there
was nothing to be done.  The army grooms had
already cared for and fed and watered the horses,
but the poor man wanted to see for himself.  He
clucked around Kichizo like a hen with its chicks.
Not that day, nor for several days afterward, did
the train come to take the horses away.

I was quite a distance from Uhei's house to
the army station, but he came every day, faithfully.
He came early and stayed until dark.

At last the fatal day came.  All the horses were
loaded on the train and taken to the harbor, where
they went aboard the transports.  Uhei went
along.  He went as far as they would let him and
then the grooms again told him not to worry, and
promised they would take good care of Kichizo.
He bowed, eyes brimming with tears.  He bowed
and bowed, and could only mumble, "Thanks,
thanks, very much."

As the boat moved out of the harbor, he ran up
to a bridge overlooking the water.  It was high
above th water and he stayed there until the
very smoke from the steamer had vanished
beneath the horizon.  He waved his flag and
shouted, "Kichizo," until he was hardly able to
speak.  And he kept his eyes riveted on the spot
where the ship had disappeared.

This is all I know about the story.  When I was
called to the front, he was the first to come and
wish me luck and help me with my preparations.
On the day I left, he come again to the harbor
and begged me to look out for Kichizo.  "You
know him," he said eagerly.  "You couldn't miss
him among a thousand horses.  Anyway, he has
a small white spot on his left side and, on the
opposite hip, the character 'Kichi' is branded.  You
couldn't miss him."

"If I see him, I'll be sure and write to you," I
said.

"Remember, he's a beautiful reddish chestnut,"
Uhei continued.  "Yes, tell me if you see him.
And please say something to him about me.  That
would seem strange to you, wouldn't it, talking
to a horse?  All right, but just pat him on the
nose, once or twice."

It seems cold and unkind of me, but only once
have I asked about Kichizo since I came aboard
this boat.  The groom said he had not seen any
such horse.  Nor have I, although I have not tried
to examine all the horses.  But when I see one
of them fall sick and die, and then go over the
side to the small boat, I cannot help but recall
Uhei. For his sake, I hope nothing like this has
happened to Kichizo.

(end of letter.  Typos except as marked are mine.)
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This is all there is of the letter.  There is no further information.
So what ever happened to Kichizo?  Go back and look at the
date at the beginning...

(this was about the time of the invasion of
either Korea or China by Japan.
We all know how this war eventually played out.  It is not clear
if the story is true, although it reads as if it is.  I find
the story a real tear jerker... maybe Kichizo found a good home,
although that is extremely unlikely.)
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Subject:  Paprika

Excerpt from a letter written by a German soldier of WWII;
original translation in Time/Life books on WWII.

Full text see P.xx-yy (title).

Salient commentary:  50K horses killed to prevent their falling
into the hands of the advancing Soviets.  Much other equipement
was also destroyed;  most of the soldiers were successfully evacuated
(unlike in other theatres where hundreds of thousands died with
what horses still remained).
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One might say:  these stories are excellant arguments against
violence and warfare.  Yes, that is indeed the case.
But, one should not fall into the trap of squealing
"Peace in our time!" (Neville Chamberlain);  desparately trading
for security with those with boundless ambitions.

Shortsightedness is evident from the British and French
insisting that the Czar and the Duma continue to pursue
the Great War with Germany (the Bolsheviks took over, the Soviet
Union stopped fighting, and millions died under Stalin
not to speak of the Russion Civil War during the transition);
the "Allies" trading of territory (Czechoslovakia et al)
for a transient peace with the megalomaniac Adolf;
and "3rd string" political team in Indochina
after WWII which failed to give the Vietnamese the promised
freedom from French colonialism
(promised for fighting Japan, eventually
there were 50000 US casualties and millions of Vietnamese
casualties).

Both militarism and pacifism are failures, leading to untold
suffering.  It should also be born in mind that
Clauswitz was pretty much correct about economic warfare;
almost all conflicts are basically economic at their roots
although the proximate spark and the superficial trappings may
lead one to believe otherwise.

American Civil War:  North vs. South economically (the Northern
carpet baggers rewrote history as if Slavery was the main issue)

WWII:  crushing burden of reparations from the Great War
provided a fertile ground for organizations to arise
to remove the shackles

Og:  Og leads his band of warriors to conquer the neighbors
so that they have to work to support him, his offspring, ...