Letters from Iwo Jima: An Inspiring Story

War movies have always intrigued me, from classics such as All Quiet on the Western Front to Grammy Awards like Saving Private Ryan. After watching Flags of Our Father, I became intrigued about the famous battle of Iwo Jima, from which the photograph of American soldiers planting the American flag became the national symbol for triumph and patriotism. I researched extensively about the Allies' effort in taking control of Iwo Jima, the landing base for Japanese planes that if captured, could cripple supply to the mainland. I came across Clint Eastwood's Letters from Iwo Jima and was ecstatic to find it to be the counterpart to Flags of Our Father. The war is told in the perspective of the few thousand Japanese soldiers who swore their life in protecting the island through a series of letters addressed to their beloved.

The time is 1944. The place is a little island off the coast of mainland Tokyo called Iwo Jima. General Tadamichi Kuribayashi has been appointed to take over the preparation to defend Iwo Jima against the invading Allies. He is a stern and unconventional leader whose experience exceeds that of the commanding officers on the island. The first interpersonal interaction between the General and Saigo occurs when he stopped the officer from beating Saigo. Saigo is just a small pawn in the military perspective; personally, he is a baker turned soldier whose only objective is to return home to his daughter and wife. The General's words "...I want my men to be fighting the war, not beaten..." revered respect for both the officer and Saigo, who somehow found an unlikely role model to look up to in the ensuing battle. Saigo is an ordinary and humble man who was drafted into the army. He easily fits in with his fellow comrades, many of whom originated from similar background. When Saigo finds out that Shimizu is one of the secrete police, unlike others, he does not single out the guilt torn military man. He offers the good sleeping ground for Shimizu, however subtle; that gesture communicates an understanding between the two that helps to unravel the war torn reality of Japanese soldiers. The Baron Nishi, a close friend of the General, flies in from mainland Japan to help his old colleague. A celebrated Olympic horse rider, the Baron commands respect as much as the General with unparallel insights into military operations. He is a true communicator who specializes in alternating the tones of his voice to get what he wants as well as employing logic to corner an opponent.

While the Baron and the General are able to exert their commands without much effort, it is Saigo who communicates with all facets of interpersonal dynamics. When his unit fails to stop the advancing Americans, they determine to commit suicide; however, Saigo overheard his commanding officer and discovered the Baron's order to spare the soldiers. His perception of what is the right thing to do is clouded by the suicidal tradition of his fellow comrades and what he has found out earlier. Ultimately, he decides to run away. Had he not overheard the officer, would he still follow suit, keeping in mind his desperation to return home to his daughter? Saigo would probably still run away, despite the coward brand that his country might slap on him. Saigo's own self-concept is also undermined by the stressful emotional situations that he encounters. His intellectual self almost converts to autonomic reactions, especially when the gunner is shot. Saigo without thinking pulls his comrade away and mans the gun himself. His emotions are numb to the point of oblivion. Vowed to return to his unborn child, he tries so hard to stay alive, though so many times in the movie he brushed by so close to death. The duty to his homeland and his family rips his heart apart as he tries to fulfill both. When Saigo saves the General, he receives a special privilege: he is to stay behind and bury the letters so that generations later could understand the war. The relationship between Saigo and the General is very dynamic. They are superior and inferior, General to Private, both patriotic countrymen; both owe their lives to each other. The general, however, has a different agenda on his mind; he enters the island knowing too well that he will not return home. He is going to die for the Imperial Army, and he knows from his diplomatic experience that Japan will surrender; he still marches on because that is his fate. Saigo has a wife and child waiting for him at home. With two opposite goals in minds, they still reserve respect for each other. Their relationship is that of a father and a son. The General extends his arm and offers his final resolve: at least he will make a difference in Saigo's life. The most powerful scene is near the end when Saigo spots the General's corpse. He ventures out to look for him. Suddenly, a group of Marines careening in the area surrounds Saigo. In a crazed state of mind, he lurches at the soldiers in one made dash to defend his country. He is the epitome of Japan, a soldier in a lost battle whose dignity and patriotism still would not allow him to surrender. Saigo's swinging of his spade communicates through to the marines, who share the same passion and understand his desperation. In one quick stroke the soldier knocks Saigo unconscious.

This is a great film to consider, both as a student of communication and as a movie enthusiast. The story is portrayed through the eyes of small constituents of the Imperial Army and does not stand for Japan's policy on the war. The letters speak for themselves the experiences of individual warriors in a bloodshed war. One cannot grasp the atmosphere of the Iwo Jima battle and neither can each of the soldier. They only live through a small part of the war, and already it's too destructive a force to be reckoned with. The human behavior is realistic enough to portray the relentlessness of war. The marines are portrayed as antagonistic when they shoot the two prisoners mercilessly even after they surrender; likewise, an American soldier pleads "Please" right before he is gutted with a bayonet by Japanese soldiers. The soldiers are not at fault; neither side is evil or immoral. The patriotic marines and imperialist army are simply returning the debt they owe to their countries. When retreating back further into the island, the Baron forbids soldiers from surrendering to the enemy. The penalty is death if they are caught. The strict military philosophy appalls Western audience while Japanese viewers would undoubtedly embrace the Baron's patriotism. To surrender or not to surrender, that is the question for the Japanese. If they do not surrender, they will die in glory; nonetheless, they still die. If they try to escape and get caught, they will be shot point blank. If they manage to raise the white flag to the enemy, the shame of defeat might be too disgraceful even if they are alive. This predicament governs every communication aspects in the movie. Personal resolution and reality struggle against moral, patriotism, pride and tradition. If analyzing this movie with historical facts, one could find the never-say-die mentality of the Japanese horrendous. After the Allies have flooded the island, Japanese soldiers pretended to give up only blowing themselves up when in contact with the Marines. Others jumped in front of moving tanks because they could not let their families face the humiliation of surrender. This perplexing concept haunts Westerners because they cannot understand the underlying cause of this spectacular dedication. It doesn't mean that it's wrong; it just means that the Japanese has a different idea of patriotism. After all, if theirs were the same, there wouldn't be a war in the first place.