At 1200 on February 21, 1945, Flight Chief Petty Officer Masanori Yukimatsu took
off from Hachijōjima Airfield as a navigator/radio operator in a Suisei
Dive Bomber (Allied code name of Judy) loaded with a 500-kg bomb. He was a member of the Kamikaze Special Attack Corps
2nd Mitate Squadron. He died in a special (suicide) attack off Iwo Jima at the
age of 20. He was from Ōita Prefecture and was a member of the 16th Otsu Class
of the Navy's Yokaren (Preparatory Flight Training Program).
Dear Older Sister,
Today I received your letter of advice.
Please forgive me for the great worries that I caused you and for the
letter where I informed you of my fall. I write the following with details.
I who today am a man among men shed tears again. When you bid farewell to me
for the last time and I think of parting again from you who are so innocent,
I had tears in my eyes when I as your younger brother only departed without
worries. When you said to me, "please go and come back," I was not able to
say anything and had only tears.
It may be asked why as a man tears are shed, but compassion does not
change. As I go, more than myself, I only am concerned when I think of your
future as you have not yet become independent.
You saw me off until you could no longer see me, and regrettably tears
were streaming down my cheeks without embarrassment or show. As for the
letter with advice that you sent and that I saw when I returned, even though
there were old proverbs with good pieces of advice that were harsh to my
ears, I had only tears when I thought about the past until now. However, I
took to heart your words in the letter. I cannot say that these really are
big things for me, but please understand well the following things that I
write. There is not a single day that I do not remember our deceased mother.
However, after returning to this place, I spent money on sake even to
the extent of being enticed by other persons. I also enjoyed my life's
youth. My will that I have had until now has not been destroyed, but today's
rosy cheeks in the evening will become white bones. When I went out, I was
foolish to try to drink sake and to restore greatly my energy. Now
when I think about it, sake destroys people. However, now that I am
within ten hours of leaving the nest, without being ambiguous after the bird
has left, I want to leave the nest squaring accounts once and for all. About
50 yen out of the 250 yen were sake expenses. When I was a trainee
with the experiences of having paid, I realized that I needed money when I
went out, and it has been 50 yen at the time of leaving the nest. What I can
write for me and for a person who afterward has enjoyed his youth may appear
to be foolish to you, but I knew this woman who at my sortie cut her little
finger and made a hachimaki (headband) with writing in blood for me.
After remembering my first love, I have not had relations with another
woman. I spent a whole night listening to the shamisen 
as the autumn breeze blew. Also, I was thinking fondly about our deceased
mother. For the fun of it, I fell into a muddy field. It is strange for me
to be writing about myself, but I think that you were very sympathetic.
However, without seeing even the person who I miss, today I will devote
myself entirely to complete destruction. Nevertheless, in my heart there
remain old wounds. It was an act of debauchery, but I am focused after I
received a hachimaki marked in blood. Please forgive me. I will go
into battle with today's letter from you close to me. I am man who promises
to not do again something like what I did. I pray for everyone's health.
I will not set foot again in our hometown. Please tell the reason to
Father. Refreshed, I will make a jibaku (self-destruct) attack on an
enemy aircraft carrier. Farewell.
I wrote the above words with blood from my left little finger. It
indicates that a man's death is expected. Take care. Farewell.
Flight Chief Petty Officer Masanori Yukimatsu
February 21, 1945
The letter comes from Kanoya Kōkū Kichi Shiryōkan Renraku Kyōgikai
(2003, 17). The biographical information in the first paragraph comes from
Kanoya Kōkū Kichi Shiryōkan Renraku Kyōgikai (2003, 17) and Osuo