Number of words: 342

The Japanese soldier was proving a formattable foe: he was brave beyond belief, trained in jungle warfare and resourceful. He was extremely mobile and used bicycles pinched from the local population to speed his advancement where roads were available. His equipment and uniform, other than the imperial guards, was light, motley and varied: he wore plimsoles on his feet and he needed very little in the way of support troops. He lived off the country and carried enough rice around his waist to last him for two days. There were no medical supplies available to him and the wounded were left behind either to recover or die. His guides were former residents of Malaya who had left the country not long before the war started and who came back with the Japanese forces to provide the local knowledge which was to prove so useful to them. If to these undoubted advantages in war you add the kamikaze spirit, you find yourself facing a formattable foe – the kamikaze – piloted flying bombs and torpedoes and crashed their bomb laden aircraft on to the decks of warships and became heroes, posthumously. 

I say he was brave beyond belief, but it was not our sort of bravery: his bravery was based on a religious fervour and a very positive and real desire to die 7 times for the emperor and in so doing enjoying Nirvana, eternal bliss in heavenly places. Our sort of bravery is more difficult and perhaps to be more admired. 
The only weakness the Japanese soldier seemed to have was when he saw a lake or river, in which case all his military training seemed to melt away in an unconfirmed controllable urge to have a wash! They put down their weapons, stripped of all their clothing, posted no sentries – and washed. On several occasions our forces waited undercover until the enemy was very well and truly committed to their bath and then opened fire with quite devastating results.

Excerpted from Pg 25-26 of ‘Guest of an Emperor’ by Arthur Cransie