White Rice, Black Shadow of Death (1897-38)

White Rice, Black Shadow of Death (1897-38)

We army soldiers were given dazzlingly white polished rice. At first, we were very happy. For those of us who were born into farm families, white rice was something we rarely ate, even at festivals. I didn't think it was such a luxury to be able to eat a full meal of pure white rice on the battlefield. After a while, however, something started to go wrong with my body. My legs were numb, and I couldn't stand up as I wanted to. I should be eating, but I was getting thinner and thinner. At night, his body would shake on its own in bed. My friends called it "kakke," and at first everyone laughed at me, saying it was a luxury disease. But as they laughed, some of them began to catch their breath.

On the other hand, the soldiers on the other side of the sea were different. They ate rice mixed with wheat and did not suffer from beriberi. I heard that one of the great military doctors recommended barley rice, and that the men on the sea were fed a proper diet. However, the military doctor who treated us land soldiers was different. He was also a well-known and respected doctor, who insisted that lethargy was caused by germs, and firmly refused to introduce barley rice, saying that barley was a lowly food. He was a man of learning and a man of title who was second to none, but from our point of view, such things were of no use. He could neither admit his mistakes nor save the lives of his soldiers. He just clung to his theory, and we were the victims of it.

If we had died from bullets in battle, it would have been OK. But every time we ate a meal, our lives were cut short, we limped, became bedridden, and finally died in convulsions. How frustrating that was. There were always rumors that more of his comrades collapsed from lethargy than those who died in the firefight. I wonder if those military doctors could have imagined, even a little, the regret of the soldiers who lost their lives without fighting. Every day we would bring to our mouths the reaper hidden under the sheen of white rice.

How many lives might have been spared if they had been given the same barley rice as the soldiers at sea? How many young lives would have been spared from rotting away in a foreign land if our great teacher had acknowledged even a single word of "mistake" at that time? But we had no way to resist the military's decision. We just had to follow orders, eat our food, and rot. The mistake of being closed off by the armor of authority had taken so many lives. I still cannot forget the brightness of that white rice and the hell that followed.