Letter From Harukichi Shimoi
Padova, October 30, 1918
Harukichi Shimoi was a professor at the University of Naples. A lover of Dante, he moved to Italy in order to learn Italian so he could read the Divine Comedy in it's original language. Stirred by the great patriotic sentiment of pre-war Italy, Shimoi volunteered to join the war effort where he fought bravely. He later organized the Rome-Tokyo flight with Arturo Ferrarin, the first trans-Asiatic flight of its kind and a grand diplomatic gesture between Japan and Italy. Deeply involved in Italian literary society, Shimoi was a close friend of the poet Gabrielle D'Annunzio and helped him in establishing the Free State of Fiume during D'Annunzio's year long revolt against the Italian Parliament. It was during this time that Shimoi introduced Karate to the Italian people.
LETTER FROM SEN. G. DE LORENZO
Naples, September 24, 19181
Dear Shimoi, I am really very pleased with what you are doing for an ever better understanding between Italy and Japan, two countries very similar in so many ways and worthy of understanding each other, and I find your trip to the front very useful for such a highly spiritual purpose. I hope that you will find noble hearts there, worthy of admiration and love in Japan as well.
The most cordial wishes and greetings from your affectionate
G. De Lorenzo
LETTER FROM HARUKICHI SHIMOI
Padova, October 30, 1918
Train of Women and Children
When I left Bologna, my first surprise was the train. A train going to the front and, more importantly, to the war! I thought all trains were loaded with proud soldiers going to the line and groaning wounded returning. The truth is, however, that the train was full of women and children returning to their homes—the children singing incessantly and the women chatting happily, with a distinct Veneto accent. It gave me the impression of one of those excursion trains to childhood gardens that are often made in Japan in the spring. It was really the scene of a train on a pleasure trip.
I Hoped for More
At the Supreme Command Press Office, however, I was very disappointed. As soon as I arrived, I explained the purpose of my trip, but they wanted to treat me like all the foreign missions that were rushing through the Italian front. That is, they wanted me to know about the Italian war, while I wanted to see it; they gave me abstract explanations, while I wanted real sensations.
For example, one day, when I went to Monte Grappa, I saw a cave dug into the rock with a rough wall of planks, with a sign outside, “POST”. There was a mailbox, and a soldier, leaning on the rock, was attentively reading a letter—perhaps a dear letter that had arrived from afar a few minutes earlier.
Back in Padua, I asked the Chief of the Press Office to let me visit a post office at the front, to see the arrivals, distributions and dispatches of the military mail, I wanted to see and describe a scene from ordinary life.
After five days,—you know, Mr. Senator, what did you prepare for me?—the Chief called me and said: “In a few days I will take you to Bologna. You can have all the news of the postal service in the war zone; even that of the front. A mail from the line is a trifle.” This is how they treat me.
When I asked permission to visit an elementary school in a town very close to the firing line, the Chief pointed out to me an inspector from the school section of a town hall.
On my return from Monte Grappa, I saw a young wounded soldier feeding a small white dog on the road. A dog in the valley, amidst the rumbling of cannon fire, playing with a wounded brave is a beautiful picture. I wanted to stop the car, but the officers who were guiding me said: “No; that's nonsense!” If I had been able to stop the car, I could have collected the story to prepare an article on a poetic episode of war that, along with the soldier's name and the dog's name, who both would be known proverbially to all the boys in Japan.
I explained and explained my wish to the Chief, and finally despaired completely of the possibility of persuading the military.
Fear of what?
At the top of Mount Colmareggio, there is a lonely house of a farmer who has four children, all under ten years. The children were playing, innocent, with the soldiers, in the face of deafening cannon fire.
“Aren't you afraid?” I asked them.
“Afraid of what?” And they looked at me in amazement.
“Afraid of war.”
“Why?”
“If the enemies come.”
“No, here are our soldiers” And they looked up at the soldiers who were caressing them smiling.
What beautiful confidence!
Children do not doubt that, as long as there is an Italian soldier at their side, the enemies can never come.
Heroes Without a Name
On the same day, in the village of Maser, below the hills of Asolo, I saw a moving scene. It was Sunday. In the deserted square in front of the halfdestroyed church, a stooped old man with white hair walked toward the church. At his sides were two young soldiers at rest, walking together supporting him.
It was not a pretty picture!
I am searching for these beautiful and moving scenes, which so many heroes, young and old, perform every day without being remembered by anyone. It is not only the decorated and praised and applauded heroes that I admire. I have equal admiration for these nameless heroes as well.
The Shoulders of a Japanese
After the beginning of the assult, I always find myself on the side where the fighting is fiercest. One day on Mount Grappa under unleashed fire; another day on the other side of the Montello, trying to cross the Piave.
What an infernal fire!
The enemies concentrated their shots on the point where I was anxiously awaiting the adjustment of the military bridge that had been destroyed by enemy fire.
Thick bursts all around me, very close. I saw many who died and who were wounded. I will never forget those two days. A young soldier fell wounded; a piece of shrapnel had entered his right leg, another under the right eye and another in the right ear…
I approached him and bandaging his leg, I took him on my shoulders and, comforting and encouraging him, I took him to the dressing station. He, feeling bloody, asked me in a low voice for my name. I told him simply: “A Japanese, a lover of Italy.” What does it matter to hear Shimoi's name? I'd be happier to let him know that the shoulders of a Japanese had given him support!
Under the wild firing to harass the passage of our troops, we waited until the evening in vain.
Crossing the Piave
The next day, however, with cold courage, I attempted the crossing of the Piave in a boat, because the bridge, fixed during the night, had been destroyed again.
What manly excitement! Passing a current with a speed of 2.50 meters per second, in an iron boat, under the tremendous blows of the enemy!
I am proud to be able to say that I am the first bourgeois who has passed from the Montello side to the other side of the Piave, to make that first footprint on the reconquered land.
Ah, how many terrible, moving, poetic, cheerful, sad episodes! I could not describe them, not even in ten pages.
I returned to Padua at four o'clock in the morning, all wet, with soaked pants, underpants and socks, because I had forded the currents of the Piave four times. Chilled, I stayed in bed for a day with a fever.
Today I feel better, although I still have a cough. Tonight I will leave again for the line of fire. Since the car still cannot cross the Piave, I will walk the entire eighty kilometer trip, sleeping on the road or in the field or under the destroyed wall of some little house. I want to stay on this side until I can see the water of the Tagliamento, then a visit to Pasubio and Adamello; and then to my bella Napoli.
In the meantime, please accept, along with the family of S.E. Nitti, the most cordial greetings from
Your friend,
Harukiei Shimoi
Note
To justify my complaint about the treatment of the Press Office, I add here the letter that Mr. Gnelfo Civinini of the Corriere della Sera, wrote to recommend me to Major Maurizio Rava, head of the Photo-Cinematic-Graphic Section of the Supreme Command:
Dearest Major,
Our friend Prof. Shimoi has a great desire to follow the events of these days a little closer. At the Press Office, they have not understood anything of what he is, of what he counts, of what interests him. And they leave him to hang around the cafés of Padua while he wants to get to know our trenches. And they give him information, while he wants to know about sensations.
Can't you take him under your wings? He would be delighted to have one of your teams, as our American colleague J. Hare has often done. See if you can satisfy him. And thank you.
Many kind regards,
Your Civinini
Major Maurizio Rara.
And I thank sincerely Mr. Major, for his kindness shown to me at the moment of the presentation, with his warm promise that, at the first occasion, I will have the pleasure to be accompanied by a team of his Section, although this promised occasion never came to me, while the nicknamed Mr. Mare had several times the fortune to meet at the occasion, during the great offensive that came after this welcome promise.
Giuseppe De Lorenzo was an Italian geographer, geologist and politician, professor at the University of Naples. He also worked on Indology and popularized knowledge of Buddhism in Italy. He was a fellow of the Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei and a member of the Geological Society of London.
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