‘I’m a man without a country, without a family, without a name, without goods or money, without papers,’ he told me. ‘I’m from a disgraced family, except I no longer have a family. Because of war. My father didn’t believe in Japan’s expansion across China, but he had to keep his views secret. I was taken into the army anyway. We were kicked and thumped and brutalised to make us into killers. But I knew I couldn’t be a killer. They tried to indoctrinate us into hatred. But I was unable to hate.’

As one among many thousands of troops following into cities that had been bombarded by Japanese planes, Chappy witnessed decimation of populations and destruction of homes and buildings. Fires raged through the city. Innocents were killed, injured, violated, orphaned, made homeless. Rather than be part of this, he decided he would take his own life. ‘In our first foray I broke ranks, running forward to throw myself into a burning building, but sniper fire got me at the edge of flame. Bullet wounds, burns, hoping for death, but I survived and got shipped to hospital in Japan.’

One night Chappy left the hospital and made the long journey on foot back to his father’s house, knowing that he could be caught and imprisoned or executed for running from army authority. He didn’t care that he might be detained or killed as long as he wasn’t sent back to war.

He travelled by night and hid during daytime, searching out any fruit or plant that he could eat.

When he arrived home it was to find that his father and brothers had been taken away for speaking out against the war. His family were now living in poverty. Although Chappy was ill and starving, his grandmother said he couldn’t stay because he would be caught, too, and they’d never see him again. Guards had already been there looking for him. Chappy wanted to give himself up, but his grandmother wouldn’t allow it.

Late the next night, she told him he was to accompany her to the port at Hinode. It was a long foot journey, which took until daylight. There she introduced him to an elderly basket-maker, but didn’t tell the basket-maker Chappy’s true name. She told Chappy that his old name did not exist any more, his family did not exist, his country did not exist and he was to go and make a new life in America.

The basket-maker made a living by making and mending containers for ships’ cargoes. In secret he arranged working passage for those needing to escape.