Killing the Rising Sun
Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugard
53 min
9 Key Points
4.4 RateWhat's inside?
Explore the pivotal moments and strategic decisions that led to America's victory over Japan in World War II, as part of Bill O'Reilly's captivating Killing Series.
You'll learn
1. What happened before World War II ended?2. How did the US plan to beat Japan?3. What did the atomic bombs do to Hiroshima and Nagasaki?4. Who were the big shots during the war?5. What happened after the war and how did it change the world?6. What was life like during World War II?Key points
01The Bloody Sands of Peleliu
The Pacific War was unlike anything the world had ever seen, a grueling testament to human endurance and the terrifying capacity for violence. To truly grasp the magnitude of the decisions that would later birth the atomic age, we must first dive into the suffocating jungles and unforgiving coral reefs of the Pacific theater. It was here that the true cost of victory was being paid, drop by agonizing drop of blood. American forces were engaged in a relentless island-hopping campaign, a strategy designed to bypass heavily fortified Japanese positions and secure airstrips closer and closer to the Japanese mainland. But this strategy was far from a simple march to victory; it was a slow, agonizing crawl through hell on earth. At the center of this monumental effort was General Douglas MacArthur, a man whose brilliance was matched only by his towering ego. MacArthur was a man of theatrical flair, known for his crushed cap, aviator sunglasses, and signature corncob pipe. He was deeply obsessed with his legacy and driven by a deeply personal vow he had made years earlier when forced to flee the Philippines: "I shall return." For MacArthur, the war in the Pacific was not just a military campaign; it was a personal crusade to restore his honor and liberate the people who had relied on him. His strategic vision often clashed with the Navy's plans, but his sheer force of will pushed the American war machine ever forward through the oppressive heat and disease-ridden islands of the South Pacific. Yet, the grand strategies drawn up in air-conditioned rooms in Washington and Hawaii translated into unimaginable horrors for the young men on the ground. Take, for instance, the Battle of Peleliu in the autumn of 1944. Military planners had anticipated a swift victory, a battle that would be wrapped up in mere days. They were catastrophically wrong. When the First Marine Division waded ashore, they stepped into a meticulously designed meat grinder. The Japanese military had fundamentally shifted its defensive strategy. Gone were the days of the banzai charge—massive, suicidal waves of infantry that, while terrifying, were easily mowed down by American machine guns. Instead, the Japanese had dug in. They had transformed the island's coral ridges into an intricate, honeycomb-like network of deeply fortified caves, bunkers, and pillboxes. The conditions on Peleliu defy modern comprehension. The temperature routinely soared above 115 degrees Fahrenheit. The coral rock reflected the blinding sun and tore through the soles of combat boots like jagged glass. Water was incredibly scarce, and what little the Marines had was often transported in unwashed oil drums, rendering it sickeningly foul. In this brutal environment, American troops had to blast and burn the defenders out of every single cave, one by one. The Japanese soldiers, driven by a fiercely instilled code of absolute loyalty to Emperor Hirohito, fought with a fanaticism that chilled the blood of the American GIs. Surrender was not an option; it was considered the ultimate disgrace. They fought to the last man, enduring flamethrowers, grenades, and point-blank rifle fire. This grim reality fundamentally altered the psychology of the American forces. The men fighting in the Pacific began to realize that they were facing an enemy who did not value their own lives in the traditional sense, an enemy who viewed death in battle as a glorious final act. The sheer brutality of Peleliu, which resulted in staggering casualty rates for the Marines, sent a very clear and ominous message back to the high command in Washington. If taking a tiny, relatively insignificant speck of coral in the ocean cost thousands of American lives, what would happen when they finally reached the shores of the Japanese home islands? The psychological toll on the soldiers was immense. Men who had been fresh-faced youths just months prior were transformed into hollow-eyed veterans, staring out with the infamous "thousand-yard stare." They were fighting a war of attrition where every inch of ground was soaked in blood. The combat was intimately close, often degrading into hand-to-hand struggles in the pitch blackness of limestone caves. It was a primal, savage conflict that stripped away the veneer of civilization. As MacArthur finally made his triumphant, heavily photographed return to the beaches of the Philippines, wading through the surf to fulfill his legendary promise, the joy of liberation was deeply tempered by the sobering reality of what lay ahead. The Japanese empire was shrinking, but like a cornered animal, it was becoming infinitely more dangerous. The closer the American forces pushed toward the heart of the empire, the more ferocious the resistance became. The island-hopping campaign was succeeding, but the mathematics of the war were becoming terrifyingly clear. The casualty lists printed in hometown newspapers across the United States were growing longer every day. This environment of unrelenting slaughter perfectly sets the stage for the monumental decisions that would soon confront the leaders of the free world. The men in power were desperately searching for a way to break the deadlock, to find a weapon or a strategy that could force an unfathomably stubborn enemy to yield. The blood spilled on the sands of Peleliu and the jungles of the Philippines was the heavy currency paying for the war, and the American public was growing weary of the cost. As we look back at these brutal early battles, it becomes entirely clear why the promise of a sudden, decisive end to the conflict would soon become the ultimate pursuit of the American government. The stage was set for a dramatic shift in the conflict, one that would move from the bloody coral reefs of the Pacific to the highest echelons of global political power.
02A Fading Leader and a Hidden Secret
While the brutal, bloody reality of combat raged unabated across the scattered islands of the Pacific, a very different kind of struggle was unfolding in the quiet, smoke-filled rooms of international diplomacy. The fate of millions rested heavily on the increasingly frail shoulders of one man: President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Having guided the United States through both the crippling depths of the Great Depression and the terrifying early years of global total war, Roosevelt was an absolute titan of the twentieth century. But by early 1945, the titan was crumbling. The American public, carefully shielded by a compliant press, had no idea just how close to death their beloved leader truly was. To understand the political landscape of this critical period, one must look closely at the physical deterioration of the President. Polio had stolen the use of his legs decades earlier, but it was severe hypertension and congestive heart failure that were now actively draining his life force. When Roosevelt traveled to the Yalta Conference in February 1945 to meet with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin, his appearance shocked those who saw him up close. He was gaunt, his skin possessed a sickly gray pallor, and he often wore a heavy naval cape to ward off a chill that seemed to emanate from his very bones. His famous, booming energy had been replaced by a quiet, exhausted lethargy. At Yalta, these three men were tasked with carving up the post-war world. Stalin, a cunning and ruthless dictator, smelled the weakness in his American counterpart. While Roosevelt held onto the optimistic hope that he could charm Stalin into ensuring a peaceful, democratic post-war Europe and secure Soviet assistance in the Pacific War against Japan, Stalin was actively plotting to expand his communist empire. The decisions made at Yalta, influenced heavily by a dying president desperate to secure a lasting global peace before his time ran out, would inadvertently set the stage for the Cold War. Roosevelt gave massive concessions to the Soviets, believing it was the only way to ensure their entry into the war against Japan—a move American military planners believed was absolutely essential to save American lives. Yet, incredibly, as Roosevelt negotiated the future of the globe, he was keeping the most significant military secret in human history entirely to himself. Deep in the deserts of the American Southwest and in highly secured facilities across the country, a massive, unprecedented scientific endeavor known as the Manhattan Project was rapidly nearing its terrifying conclusion. The United States was building an atomic bomb, a weapon of such apocalyptic power that it defied human comprehension. Roosevelt knew of the bomb, having authorized the project years earlier after receiving a warning letter from Albert Einstein. But he kept the circle of knowledge impossibly small. This absolute secrecy extended even to his own Vice President, Harry S. Truman. Truman’s ascent to the vice presidency was a masterpiece of political maneuvering during the 1944 Democratic Convention. The party bosses, acutely aware that Roosevelt might not survive his fourth term, were terrified of the sitting Vice President, Henry Wallace, whom they viewed as far too sympathetic to the Soviet Union. They engineered a backroom deal to replace Wallace with Truman—a pragmatic, no-nonsense former haberdasher and political machine product from Missouri. Truman was chosen not for his foreign policy expertise, which was virtually nonexistent, but for his acceptability to the various factions of the party. As a result, the man who was just a heartbeat away from the most powerful office in the world was kept entirely in the dark. Truman spent his brief vice presidency presiding over the Senate and attending minor social functions. He was never invited to the White House map room. He received no briefings on grand military strategy. And he certainly had no inkling that American scientists were attempting to harness the fundamental power of the universe to create a city-destroying weapon. The contrast is deeply jarring: a dying President holding the keys to the future, and a healthy, energetic Vice President completely blind to the monumental responsibilities that were about to crash down upon him. The emotional weight of this period is palpable. Roosevelt, despite his failing body, refused to step away, driven by a deeply ingrained sense of duty to see the war through to its absolute end. He traveled to Warm Springs, Georgia, in April 1945, desperately seeking rest and a brief reprieve from the crushing burdens of the Oval Office. It was there, while sitting for a portrait, that he complained of a "terrific headache" before collapsing from a massive cerebral hemorrhage. The death of Franklin Roosevelt sent an immediate, paralyzing shockwave across the globe. Soldiers wept openly in their foxholes; citizens stood paralyzed in the streets of American cities. For over twelve years, he had been the only leader most Americans truly knew. In Washington, Eleanor Roosevelt delivered the devastating news to Harry Truman. When Truman asked if there was anything he could do for her, the newly widowed First Lady piercingly replied, "Is there anything we can do for you? For you are the one in trouble now." Never have truer words been spoken in American political history. Truman was thrust into the presidency at the most critical juncture of the war. He was instantly tasked with managing the delicate alliance with a hostile Soviet Union, overseeing the final defeat of Nazi Germany, and figuring out how to end the bloodbath in the Pacific. It was only after he took the oath of office that Secretary of War Henry Stimson pulled the new President aside to deliver a message that would forever alter the course of Truman's life and the history of the world. Stimson gently informed him that the United States was nearing the completion of a completely new explosive of almost unbelievable destructive power. In that singular moment, the immense, terrifying burden of the atomic age transferred from a fallen giant to a plain-spoken man from Missouri. Truman, completely unprepared and fundamentally shocked, suddenly realized that the ultimate choice of how to end the worst conflict in human history would soon rest entirely in his hands.
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03The Meat Grinder of Iwo Jima and Okinawa
04Unleashing the Fire of the Gods
05Truman's Heavy Burden
06A Blinding Flash Over Hiroshima
07A Second Strike and a God Speaks
08Conclusion
About Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugard
Bill O'Reilly is a former political commentator for Fox News, journalist, and author known for his conservative views. Martin Dugard is a New York Times bestselling author and historian, known for his historical narratives and collaborations with O'Reilly on the "Killing" series.
