In 1959, we had a big muckety-muck from the Japanese railroad as a guest in our home. I'd been to Japan 2 years earlier on a trip around the world with my grandparents and picked up some Japanese words and phrases.
The guy was impressed with that, and informed me that during WWII, he had been trained and volunteered to be a Kamakazi pilot. The day before he was scheduled to fly and attack American ships, the emperor announced the end of the war.
The day prior to that his best friend in training had lopped off his pinky finger on his left hand and given it to him to remember him by and flown off on his mission. He told me that all of the pilots he trained with were committed to dying for the emperor, that it was the accepted thing to do.