Japanese POWs in Nebraska Were Shown a Combine Harvester — They Thought It Was a War Machine
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A Transformative Encounter: The Story of Japanese POWs in Nebraska
In September 1945, the late summer sun blazed down on the flat expanse of Nebraska farmland as a group of 32 Japanese prisoners of war disembarked from a military transport truck near the town of Scottsbluff. They had traveled halfway across the world from the Pacific Islands, where they had been captured, expecting to face labor camps, punishment, or even worse. Instead, what they were about to witness would shatter everything they had been told about their enemy.
Among them was Lieutenant Teeshi Yamamoto, a 26-year-old graduate of the Imperial Japanese Naval Academy. Until three months prior, he had firmly believed in the superiority of the Japanese spirit over American material excess. Propaganda had painted a picture of Americans as weak and overindulgent, reliant on machines due to a lack of discipline and courage. However, as he stepped onto American soil, the reality he encountered began to unravel his convictions.
A New Reality
Sergeant First Class Robert Henderson, a farmer’s son from Iowa, had been managing prisoner labor details for 18 months. He had volunteered for military service in 1942 but was sidelined by a childhood injury. He expected to harbor anger toward the Japanese prisoners, especially since his younger brother had been at Pearl Harbor. Yet, the men who arrived were not the savage warriors depicted in propaganda; they were hungry, exhausted, and bewildered.
Under the guidance of Colonel William Fitzgerald, the camp commander, the prisoners were treated according to the Geneva Conventions. They were fed adequately, housed properly, and assigned work that would benefit the local community while regular farmhands were overseas. This was an experiment in psychological warfare that relied not on fear but on facts.
The Japanese prisoners were assigned to work on five different farms in the area. The labor shortage was critical, with Nebraska’s wheat harvest essential for feeding American troops and Allies across multiple theaters. Private Hiroshi Tanaka, a former fisherman, found himself standing in the middle of a vast wheat field, astonished by the abundance of food surrounding him.
The Combine Harvester
Ernest Schultz, the 63-year-old farmer who employed Tanaka, explained the work schedule through an interpreter. The prisoners would work from dawn until mid-afternoon, with breaks for lunch, and be paid in camp script for their efforts. Tanaka listened intently, waiting for the catch—the punishments, the impossible quotas—but they never came. Schultz simply walked them to the tool shed, distributed equipment, and demonstrated the tasks at hand.
As the days passed, Tanaka worked harder than required, fearing repercussions for any sign of weakness. However, when afternoon came and Schultz called them in for a break, Tanaka realized something was different. Lieutenant Yamamoto, assigned to the Peterson family farm, experienced a similar awakening. Farmer James Peterson treated the prisoners with neither hostility nor excessive friendliness, simply expecting them to work efficiently.
The turning point arrived one Thursday morning in early October. The prisoners had been working in the fields for three weeks, cutting grain with hand scythes and loading wagons. It was grueling labor, but the food was plentiful, and the accommodations were clean. Peterson drove up to the field in a pickup truck, followed by a massive machine that dwarfed any military vehicle Yamamoto had seen before. It was a combine harvester—an enormous, gleaming piece of machinery.
Peterson explained that this machine could cut, thresh, and clean the wheat all in one operation, doing the work of dozens of men in a fraction of the time. Yamamoto stared in disbelief. His first instinct was tactical; surely, this was a war machine designed to intimidate. But as Peterson detailed its workings, Yamamoto began to see the truth.
Corporal Kenji Sato, who had been an engineering student before the war, approached the machine with curiosity. As Peterson explained how the combine operated, Sato translated for the other prisoners, his voice growing quieter as the implications sank in. One combine could harvest more than 40 acres in a single day—work that would take an entire group of prisoners a full day with hand tools.
A Shift in Perspective
That evening, Yamamoto sat with fellow officers in the barracks, discussing what they had witnessed. Captain Ichiro Nakamura, a former professor of political economy, articulated their collective realization: if Americans could produce such machines in such quantities, then their military production capacity must be far beyond anything their leadership had understood. The numbers they had been given were not just optimistic; they were fantasy.
As weeks passed, the prisoners began to view their surroundings with new eyes. They noticed the efficiency of the trucks supplying the camps and the quality of the roads, the electric power lines, and the telephone systems connecting rural areas to cities. Private Tanaka witnessed a delivery of spare parts for a tractor ordered through a catalog, arriving within three days from a warehouse just 600 miles away. This starkly contrasted with the logistical nightmares faced by Japanese forces on remote islands.
The interpreter at the camp, George Takahashi, a second-generation Japanese American, gradually gained the prisoners’ trust. He explained that many Japanese Americans lived in the United States, and while some had been relocated to internment camps, others continued their lives, running businesses and serving in the military. This revelation confused the prisoners, who had been taught that loyalty was defined by ethnicity rather than shared ideals.
As winter approached, the prisoners were assigned to help with the corn harvest, introducing them to another impressive machine—the corn picker. This innovation stripped ears of corn from standing stalks and husked them in a single operation, showcasing American ingenuity. During a lunch invitation at the Peterson home, Lieutenant Yamamoto experienced a profound moment of connection. Margaret Peterson served a hearty meal, and her grief over her son lost in the war resonated with Yamamoto. She expressed hatred for the conflict, not for the Japanese people, revealing a humanity that transcended borders.
The Aftermath of War
By December, the prisoners had been in Nebraska for three months. News of their observations spread throughout Camp Scotsluff, and discussions became increasingly focused on the implications of what they had learned. Sergeant Henderson noticed a change in the prisoners’ demeanor—they were more thoughtful and curious, some even requesting English lessons and newspapers to understand American society better.
As the war officially ended in January 1946, the prisoners learned about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the unconditional surrender, and the occupation of Japan. For many, this news was devastating; everything they had believed about Japanese military invincibility was shattered. While some refused to accept the truth, others, including Lieutenant Yamamoto, recognized the pattern: the combine harvester had been the first crack in their ideological beliefs.
In March, a conversation between Sergeant Henderson and Private Tanaka would leave a lasting impact on both men. Schultz explained that farming taught certain truths: one must plant to harvest, and working smart meant using the best tools available. He questioned why any nation would choose to fight against overwhelming material disadvantage, emphasizing that courage without wisdom was wasteful.
As spring arrived, the prisoners prepared for repatriation, returning to a transformed Japan. Yamamoto sought a final conversation with Farmer Peterson, expressing gratitude for his treatment and asking what he should tell people back home. Peterson advised him to convey the truth: Americans were not superhuman but had built effective systems that valued practical results. He encouraged Yamamoto to share that Japan could develop its own industries and create prosperity if it focused on building rather than conquering.
A Legacy of Change
When the repatriation ships departed for Yokohama in April, the former prisoners carried with them a wealth of observations that would influence post-war Japanese society. Private Tanaka returned to find his fishing village largely destroyed but applied what he had learned to modernize his fishing practices. Captain Nakamura returned to academia, writing extensively about economic development and industrial policy, influencing a generation of Japanese economists.
Lieutenant Yamamoto faced challenges as a former imperial officer but eventually found opportunities as a translator and liaison officer, helping bridge cultural gaps. He married in 1949 and witnessed Japan transform into an economic power.
In 1978, Yamamoto returned to Nebraska as part of a business delegation examining American agricultural technology. He stood before the now-retired combine harvester, reflecting on the profound shift in his understanding. The machine, once perceived as a war tool, had demonstrated the potential of human ingenuity directed toward creation rather than destruction.
Sergeant Henderson, who became a teacher after retiring from military service, corresponded with former prisoners over the years. Their letters revealed the ideological transformations each had undergone, highlighting the importance of humility in understanding the world.
The story of Japanese prisoners encountering American agricultural technology may be a minor footnote in history, but for those involved, it was a defining experience that challenged their beliefs and opened their eyes to new possibilities. The combine harvester stood as a reminder that technology devoted to improving human welfare creates lasting change, and that sometimes, the most effective challenges to dangerous ideologies come not from arguments or force, but from simple demonstrations of alternative possibilities.
