I’m fascinated by historical quirks and mysteries – and who isn’t? A touch of geographical obscurity only adds spice to the mix. I have two such events on my mind, but one of them can wait. Both relate to World War II in the Pacific. And I like to think both would have intrigued my father, who served in the Pacific (although he had definite ideas about one of them, and probably didn’t know about the other).
These are some of the conversations we never had; try not to make the same mistake.
One of these lingering questions, the one I may eventually write about, relates to a what may have taken place during the latter stages of the war in the Pacific. More about that later, perhaps.
The other one, which I’ll outline here, occurred at the outset of the war –in fact, within hours of the attack on Pearl Harbor. It’s been fairly well-documented, but few know about it. And it took place on a very small scale but may have had large repercussions. I’m referring to the weird chain of events, on and after Dec. 7, 1941, on the island of Ni’ihau (pronounced “nee-ee-how”): the tiny, westernmost island in the Hawaiian chain, some 17 miles west of Kauai.
What happened on Ni’ihau, in the hours and days following the Japanese attack, has been the subject of a 2000 article by William Hallstead on History net; a novel, a song, and a feature film; so I don‘t need to explore it further. The film, “Enemy Within,” is interesting, if in some ways historically inaccurate. The novel, “East Wind, Rain” by Caroline Paul (Harper Perennial, 2006), I have yet to read. The song was written and composed in 1945 by R. Alex Anderson, and memorably titled “They Couldn’t Take Ni’ihau Nohow.” Like what actually happened on the tiny island, you couldn’t make it up; but somehow Anderson did.
I first learned about Ni’ihau when I saw it in the distance from Polihale (“polly holly”) Beach, on the west end of Kauai. And the story of what happened there is the stuff of literature: absurd, tragic, obscure yet possibly important: in short, downright operatic.
But first a word about the vantage point. Polihale is the longest and most remote beach in Hawai’i, accessible via a rough dirt road (built for hauling cane). When I visited with my partner Heidi, in 2016, we found seventeen miles of pristine sand; two other intrepid tourists; and the remote, 70-square mile island of Ni’ihau, visible on the western horizon. We also found the wildest surf we had ever seen: so strong that I only dared enter the water up to my kneecaps. In a word: awesome.
Now for the Ni’ihau incident, a tangled narrative which I’ll try to put in a nutshell.
Prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese pilots were instructed to crash-land on Ni’ihau if they lost their engines, because the Japanese Imperial Navy thought it was uninhabited. They were wrong.
And one Japanese pilot, named Nishikaichi Shigenori, did crash-land on Ni’ihau on Dec. 7th 1941, and survived the crash. The island, which has been privately owned by a family named Robinson since the 19th century, contained a small mixed community of people of Hawaiian and nisei (Japanese-American) descent. They were unaware of the attack that had taken place at Pearl Harbor several hours earlier and several hundred miles to the east.
At this point things got complicated. Shigenori was treated hospitably by the inhabitants, but one of the Hawaiians had seized his papers and his pistol. Some of the nisei wanted to protect him, while others wanted to turn him in to the American authorities. This led to conflict among the islanders, and several of the Hawaiians were captured. (The full story is a web of threats, coercion, and deception; you can find it on Wikipedia).
It all culminated in a firefight in which Shigenori, the Japanese pilot, was killed, and several others wounded. One of the nisei committed suicide, and two others were eventually taken into custody. Ben Kanahele, the native Hawaiian leader who, along with his wife Ella , subdued the pilot, was decorated for his actions.
From there the story takes on larger dimensions: it has been speculated that the actions of the Japanese-Americans on Ni’ihau may have influenced public opinion and contributed to the incarceration of Mainland Japanese-Americans during World War II. (Most nisei in Hawai’i were spared the fate of mass internment). An official Navy report dated January 26, 1942, less than two months after the incident, called into question the loyalty of the Japanese Americans on Ni’ihau.
What was the full effect of the bizarre Ni’ihau episode? How did it play out in official reports, news accounts, and otherwise?
These are questions that an energetic young historian might explore. I’m none of those things, but this is great historical material – a strange, passionate, violent story that may have had a larger impact on American history. I hope that someday – along with the article, the novel, the film, and the song – the Ni’ihau incident will find a chronicler who can put it in context. Because context is about how things connect, or don’t connect. For history – in fact, for all knowledge – context is everything.