Kyotaro Tago's job late in World War II was to decide which young pilots to send to their deaths on kamikaze suicide missions. He was only 19 years old.

All these decades later, Tago, 95, is wracked by feelings of guilt that he was nothing less than a murderer.

Even now, Tago can still write down the order from memory. At his home in Tsuyama, Okayama Prefecture, he faithfully reproduced one such order using a felt pen.

“Our military must find and destroy (enemy ships)” read part of the order that originated from the Imperial Japanese Army headquarters in spring 1945 and was passed down through the air division.

Tago recalled that his hand shook each time he took a pencil to write the order for airmen about the same age as him to fly their bomb-laden aircraft on one-way missions to dive onto enemy ships. 

“When I wrote the order, the face of the soldier (who would receive it) flashed in my mind,” Tago said. “Because we were in different positions, I never exchanged words with them, but at the air base they stood at attention and saluted me. That is why I knew all their faces. It was a painful experience. I was the same as a murderer. I wrote about 10 orders and sent off about 20 pilots on their missions.”

In spring 1945, the Imperial Army’s 9th Air Wing operated its command post out of caves near a base in Yilan, northeastern Taiwan. Tago was 19 when he was assigned to the section that decided which army aircraft would be assigned on a suicide mission.

Of 6,418 individuals who died during the war on suicide missions, 3,903 were pilots who perished in their planes. according to a national organization that reveres them as heroes.

A simple twist of fate prevented Tago from facing a similar destiny.

Born in Tsuyama, Tago studied at what is now Kwansei Gakuin University in Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture.

In autumn 1943, Tago volunteered to become a special pilot trainee with the Imperial Army. In summer 1944, Tago entered the Shimodate training corps of the Imperial Army’s flight school located in Ibaraki Prefecture close to Tokyo. They trained daily to take their aircraft to altitudes of about 2,000 meters before diving toward a target simulated to be an enemy ship.

“Everyone realized they were kamikaze pilots only after undergoing the ‘training for death,’” Tago said. “They also felt, ‘We are disposable items.’”

Tago said some corps members were so shocked by the realization that some tried to inhale dust on their futon bedding in the hope of developing tuberculosis and an early death.

But training was temporarily halted because of a petroleum shortage brought on by the worsening war situation facing Japan.

Toward the end of 1944, the unit was ordered to transfer to Singapore to continue training as fuel reserves were plentiful there.

But shortly after departing from Moji Port in Kita-Kyushu, an enemy attack destroyed the tanker, making it impossible to continue with training. Tago was ordered transferred to a section administering flight plans and later moved to the room that drew up the kamikaze mission orders.

“The only reason I can think of is that my handwriting was so precise,” Tago said. “But I did feel ‘I am saved.’ However, I also felt extremely sorry for my new comrades in Taiwan who would be flying on missions that I should have been on.”

Tago and his unit heard the news that the war was over in the caves of Taiwan. Half of the aircraft in the wing had been lost due to the suicide missions.

He returned to Tsuyama after the war and took over the family soy sauce business. He has been blessed with three children, six grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.

While Tago rarely talked about his war experiences, he agreed to an interview with The Asahi Shimbun because he felt a pressing to pass on his story.

One memory that still haunts Tago is of a night shortly before the end of the war and the sight of pilots awaiting their flight orders singing a song popular at the time. 

“I believe they all thought about how to keep on living right up to the time of their deaths,” Tago said. “Those young men gave up their lives by telling themselves they were protecting the nation and their families. I feel talking about their existence to today’s generation will serve as a requiem for them.”