Last survivor of bloody Cowra breakout

Former Japanese prisoner of war Teruo Murakami has returned to Cowra to honour comrades who died in the bloody 1944 Cowra breakout.

Former prisoner of war Teruo Murakami at the Japanese War Cemetery in Cowra. Picture: Renee Nowytarger

Just before 2am on the bitterly cold morning of August 5, 1944, Japanese prisoner of war Teruo Murakami thought he was going to die — but he’d voted to do so.

That’s when he and 1100 other Japanese prisoners of war stormed out of their huts at Cowra in southern NSW and clambered over the barbed wire, shielding it with blankets and greatcoats. Once over the wire, they set on any Australians in uniform with knives and baseball bats with nails in them.

“I saw so many bullets fly over me and I saw the flares that made it as bright as daytime,” Mr Murakami told The Australian in Cowra yesterday.

For the past three-quarters of a century since that night, Mr Murakami has been a time traveller — before August is out he will have turned 99. His near century-long journey has taken him from his home in Tottori, Japan, back to Cowra for today’s 75th anniversary of the breakout.

He is the last known survivor of the incident. The Australian guards at the camp are also thought to have all died.

Mr Murakami, accompanied by an entourage including his great granddaughter Mizuki Hatamura, historian Mami Yamada, and wine importer Shunji Bai, is an esteemed figure in the anniversary commemorations.

Japanese soldiers at the prison camp bow to the sun. Picture: AAP

A long friendship and business association between Mr Bai and Cowra brothers Jason and Steph O’Dea, in which their Cowra vineyard Windowrie Estate sends wine branded Sakura Shiraz to Japan each year for cherry blossom time, financed the trip.

There’s a huge amount of activity in Cowra over several days to mark the anniversary, with a lantern parade to the site of the camp yesterday evening, and reminiscences by descendants of those involved. These included the time when a few hungry Japanese POWs — who had been strictly instructed not to harm ­civilians — showed up at a farm and were served scones and tea by the lady of the house. For Mr Murakami, still in good health and still a heavy smoker, the reason he made what may be his last journey to Cowra is all about one thing.

“My comrades or friends are buried here,” he said, his words translated by Dr Yamada.

“I just wanted to come to pray for them.”

During the breakout, 231 Japanese and four Australians died, and it took several days for the Australian Army and police to round up the escapees.

Out of his designated group of about 20 to 30, Mr Murakami said, he lost five or six comrades.

Today wreath-laying services will be held at the POW camp site, and the Australian and Japanese war cemetery.

Ahead of the rebellion, Japanese prisoners got a vote organised by the camp leaders who required them to write on a blank sheet of paper either a circle, which signalled “yes” to break out, or a cross, which meant “no”.

Mr Murakami said that, under the strict Japanese military code of “senjinkun”, it was a disgrace to be taken prisoner and the only honour lay in a valiant death, so he cast his ballot with a circle.

When machineguns opened up on him and his comrades, Mr Murakami had a rapid change of heart and dived into a ditch, staying there until morning, when he surrendered.

“I was very horrified and scared about death,” he said.

Mr Murakami regards his whole POW experience from start to finish as one of personal salvation.

He was captured by American soldiers when he was near death from malaria during fighting in New Britain, and said when he got to the Cowra camp, “it was like heaven”.

“We were given five cigarettes a day, which we used for currency, and the food was excellent too,” he said.

The prisoners spent a lot of time playing mahjong.

Asked if he had any message he wished to deliver, Mr Murakami said solemnly: “I am so thankful for the kindness of everyone in Australia.”