Hiroo Onoda

摘要

Before he approached the tent where his commanding officer waited on March 9th 1974, Hiroo Onoda did two things. First, he inspected his rifle. (The Ar-isaka 99 still worked perfectly; over almost 30 years he had treated it as tenderly as a baby.) Then he retied his boots. Nothing must be slipshod. A soldier of the god-emperor had to be pure, prepared and spiritually invincible. He had taken elaborate care to get this far. All his guerrilla training had been employed in case, as he suspected, he was walking into a trap. He had planned the meeting for the evening, when there would be just enough light to recognise a face but not enough to hinder his escape, if necessary. Palm and bosa trees hid him as he crept down from the mountains. To cross clearings, he camouflaged his threadbare army uniform-more neatly sewn patches than uniform-with sticks and leaves. Wherever it was safe, he rested.