Unit 731

The soldiers had been sent to escort us to our dormitories. They were almost identical in every way. They wore the same meticulously starched uniforms, they held their guns in a similar fashion and they all had a hollow shine in their eyes. I tried not to think about how many men the soldier stood beside me had killed as he marched me forward. He didn’t look at me once, no matter how many worried glances I stole at him. The price of honour was a great one. This man had paid with his life.

It had started to rain again, the drops colder than usual. Large icy splashes dripped down my neck and I was reminded all too clearly of rainstorms at home when I was a child. Daijiro and I would run around the back garden, attempting to eat the elusive raindrops as they fell. It was a simpler time, a time where the only things that I had to worry about were the mess that my clothes got into from running around in the mud and how much of a scolding my father would give us when we came back inside.

As the compound rapidly approached, I felt myself become very uneasy. The walls were not as small as I thought. The entire enclosure was imposing, pressing down on me like the weight of a thousand lives. I could see the flecks of fabric caught by the barbed wire that topped the security gate as we passed through and wondered how many people had tried – and failed – to exit the compound. Soldiers were trained to be ruthless; surgeons were not. Where a prison like this would not affect the already brainwashed dummies of the Empire, I could already feel dread filling every inch of my body. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Unit 731. My first and only natural instinct was to run, to get as far away from this hell as I possibly could. But doing so would result in certain death and there was nothing I feared more than dying at the hands of a ruthless monster with nothing to lose. I was a coward, unprepared to die in an attempt to do the right thing. It was something that would plague me in the years to come. One movement and I could have slept blissfully for eternity. One movement and I could have avoided the mess that was World War Two.

The soldiers that had been leading us along the dirt path stopped suddenly and with military precision. Like robots, they lifted their arms in unison to form a salute aimed at the man stood in front of them before marching off. We had huddled in an unorganised group at the stop and I could feel someone crushing my toes as they took a tiny step backwards. I felt like cattle, rounded up into a tiny pen awaiting the slaughterhouse.

The man that had stopped the group was not a soldier. He wasn’t dressed in the proud green of the officers either. The surgical coat that he was wearing seemed to drown him, it was that large. His eyes were small and beady, magnified by the lenses of the large glasses that he wore. He held a clipboard loosely in his left hand and as he brought it up to his face, I noticed that one of his fingers was missing. He cleared his throat loudly and attempted what I assume was supposed to be a smile. His face twisted and contorted into a terrifying grimace as he looked from person to person.

“Good evening,” he called. His voice was cold and emotionless, much like they eyes that were sweeping the small huddle. “I trust that you had a good journey!”

No one answered, but this didn’t seem to faze the doctor. He continued to smile his uneasy smile, glancing from face to face as he continued to talk.

“You are currently standing in the shadow of one of the most important research facilities in the world!” he exclaimed, waving one hand behind him lazily, “Welcome to Unit 731! I am Doctor Kurosawa, one of the head researchers here!”

Again, my attention was drawn to the building in front of me. Light shone through some of the windows. I could make out the vague silhouettes of the people working behind the murky glass, their figures walking backwards and forwards as they worked. The motion seemed robotic, a movement that had been hot-wired into the brains of the unsuspecting surgeons and workers that had been dragged from their homes to participate in the war effort. A nagging thought told me that I would soon be like these faceless workers, but I pushed it to the very recesses of my mind, instead focusing my attention back on the tiny man giving instructions.

“You will be split into groups of three. Each trio will be given a room to share. These men will be your work colleagues for the foreseeable future, so I suggest you get to know each other well! One of our magnificent soldiers will be taking you to your rooms, so please wait until your name is called!”

The soldiers had suddenly reappeared, seeing to crawl in from nowhereness and appear underneath Doctor Kurosawa’s outstretched arm. They surveyed the crowd with their dark, emotionless eyes, waiting on orders. As Kurosawa began to shout out names, one soldier would walk forward, his singular frame looking oddly lost without the bulk of his colleagues to back him up.

“Nakada, Nakamura and Nitta. Step forward.”

I walked towards the soldier that had just stepped forward, the two men that had accompanied me in the truck following. The person stood on front of me was no more than seventeen – a boy, not a man. How the Empire could take this boy’s childhood away, allow him to kill and main when he had barely matured enough to marry, I would never know. His gun was balanced carefully on his shoulder, his uniform pristine. Another child mercilessly turned into an Empire pawn.

The soldier turned on his heel sharply, signifying that we should follow. I could feel my stomach churning as it had when I had told my parents of my plans and I began to feel very ill. Judging by the faces of the two silent men stood on either side of me, I was not the only person feeling this way. It had been my own choice to sign up, my own choice to come here and allow myself to be warped by the shallow minds of the Imperial Army.

As we continued to march forward, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made the wrong choice entirely.