Photo/Illutration Kikuko Yoshimura can be seen on the far left in the rearmost row in a photo of the Yoshimura family taken in front of her home in August 1944 before her older brother went to the front. (Provided by a relative of Kikuko Yoshimura)

NAGOYA--What drove a teenage girl from a privileged background to volunteer for suicide missions late in World War II will likely forever remain a mystery.

But 18-year-old Kikuko Yoshimura's willingness to sacrifice her life in the service of Emperor Hirohito sheds a fascinating glimpse on the stark choices facing youngsters as Japan stared defeat in the face.

Perhaps Yoshimura was simply brainwashed by the military propaganda that gripped Japan in those days.

Then again, as a member of an old-established and prosperous family, she may have felt it was her duty to throw her life way, even though she was under no obligation to serve in the military.

These and other puzzling questions surfaced after the emergence of a rare paper chit containing written authorization for Yoshimura to join a reserve corps of volunteers willing to die for the greater good of Japan.

Dated March 20, 1945, the slip of paper measuring 18 centimeters by 12.8 cm bears the seal of the reserve’s supreme commander. A copy is now on display at the Peace Aichi museum here.

Yoshimura worked in a municipal office in Sakashita (present-day Nakatsugawa) in Gifu Prefecture, when she enlisted as a reservist in the special attack unit. With decisive fighting looming on the Japanese mainland, it appeared to be only a matter of time before the suicide unit swung into action.

Yoshimura was the eldest daughter among 10 siblings. Her older brother died from a disease contracted at the front.

Residents of Sakashita were forced to immigrate to Manchuria in China after prices of raw silk--a local specialty--dropped sharply. Yoshimura's father engaged in a wide range of businesses as a landowner and was relatively wealthy.

After marrying, her family name changed to Kameyama.

Despite her comparatively fortunate circumstances, Yoshimura felt compelled to join the reserve corps and put her life on the line.

The decades-old record was discovered in a file containing the corps’ prospectus, application form and credo, which stated that “the Japanese Empire is just in the midst of a crisis” and pledged “we will lay down our lives like falling flowers.”

Shunsaku Tazawa, 92, who served as head of the Sakashita historical record compilation committee, speculated on Yoshimura's reasons for enlisting as she never offered an explanation to her family even after the end of the war.

“She may have felt a responsibility in light of information about the war effort pouring out of the municipal office and seeing financially struggling people sending family members to the military or Manchuria,” Tazawa said.

Although Yoshimura did not expect to be assigned imminently to a suicide mission, no records survive on whether she underwent special training in Sakashita.

Her eldest son, Hideo Kameyama, 68, called his mother’s decision “unbelievable.”

“My mother was seemingly cornered to the point where she had to make such a determination,” he said.

According to Fujio Ogino, professor emeritus of modern and current Japanese history at Otaru University of Commerce, the Special Higher Police’s records and other sources reveal that morale among male workers in urban areas plummeted after a series of air raids that began around late 1944.

“Owing to the nationalist-based education they received, young women in rural regions were much more naive and likely harbored no doubts about enlisting for suicide missions,” Ogino said. “As the military was woefully short of supplies, members of the reserve corps would have sacrificed their lives in vain (even if they took part in the fighting).”

The wartime chit was discovered by Yoshimura's husband, who died in 2014. It was found among her mementos following her death in 2002 at the age of 76, and shown to Junji Itoigawa, 90, professor emeritus of paleontology at Nagoya University and a relative. Itoigawa presented the slip of paper to the Peace Aichi museum in September 2018.

The reserve corps was founded by Takio Tsuneoka, a former member of the Imperial Japanese Army, around March 1945 as the tide of war turned against Japan. While its Tokai regional headquarters was situated in Nagoya, it also had offices in Tokyo, Niigata and elsewhere.

According to published accounts by Tsuneoka after the war, one-third of the corps' 40,000 young members were female.

Kunio Tanaka, 93, who lives in Agui, Aichi Prefecture, and quit what is now the University of Tokyo to become an official at the reserve corps’ Tokyo headquarters around July 1945, said 500 youngsters working at munitions plants and elsewhere stood at attention outdoors for three hours during Sunday training sessions to refine their mental strength.

Female members were especially active and some filled in their application forms in blood to demonstrate their determination, according to Tanaka.

“Most of them were expecting to die in actual fighting,” Tanaka said. “It was believed that members who survived should arm themselves with explosive charges and assault tanks.”

The chit will be displayed at the museum through Jan. 25. Admission is 300 yen ($2.77) for adults. It closes on Sundays and Mondays.