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When the day came, the gallery, which had been empty for months, was jammed. Tojo walked to the stand with the correct aplomb of the model prisoner and the unearthly smugness of the samurai. His court-appointed lawyer, George Blewett of Philadelphia, started to read Tojo's 64,000-word affidavit, which Tojo had rewritten four times in one year. Tojo himself sat back calmly. Around his right middle finger was tied a piece of string—a reminder to himself, he explained later, to keep his quick temper in check. Among his fellow defendants there was a stir of anticipation. Teiichi Suzuki, ex-President of the Cabinet Planning Board, folded his hands and lowered his head as in prayer.
Through Blewett's voice, Hideki Tojo spoke for all the defendants, and, in a sense, for millions.of Japanese. His defense was offense. He challenged not only the victors' right to try him and his fellows: he challenged the U.S. version of history. Japan, he said, had been forced into the war by the U.S.
"Fantastic Accusation." The story started with China, and a familiar warlord's defense. Japan's actions, said Tojo, were motivated chiefly by the threat of Chinese Communism. "This was all done with a view to saving East Asia from the danger of bolshevization and at the same time to make herself a barrier against world bolshevization. The present condition of the world two years after the end of World War II eloquently tells how important these barriers were. . . ."
Then, continued U.S. aid to China forced Japan on the defensive. With war in Europe came allied blockades, embargos, encirclement. Japan's access to food, rubber, oil, was threatened. Still, "we did not anticipate . . . that America [would] . . . force Japan to make the first overt act." There had never been a conspiracy among Japanese leaders to make war. "I fail utterly to understand . . . this fantastic accusation. . . ."
The attack on Pearl Harbor was not intended as a sneak attack; a formal declaration of war was somehow delayed through a diplomatic hitch. "It was a matter of great regret to the Japanese government [to learn] that the actual delivery of our note was delayed. . . ."
The man who had tried to commit suicide to escape trial (TIME, Sept. 24, 1945) did not now try to save his neck. His sovereign, Emperor Hirohito, was not to blame for anything, said Tojo. At the meeting during which the General Staff presented its first war plans, "His Majesty was pleased to listen . . . although not uttering a single word. . . . The responsibility of defeat devolves on myself as Premier."
"Now I Don't Know." Tojo did not accept responsibility for a crime. He said: "Never at any time did I conceive that waging this war could or would be challenged by the victors as an international crime, or that regularly constituted officers, officials of the vanquished nation, would be charged individually as criminals. . . ."
Said one Japanese to a U.S. reporter last week: "I used to think Tojo should be hanged. Now I don't know. If we had won we would have tried the Americans." Said another: "When you people have left these islands, the Japanese will again return to traditional worship of exalted human beings. First to be enshrined will be Hideki Tojo."