The Soldier Who Didn't Know the War Was Over

In 1945, Japan surrendered, and World War II ended, but in the Philippine jungle, one soldier kept fighting until 1974. Hiroo Onoda wasn't mad. He was loyal, capable, and doing exactly what he'd been trained to do, and he just never received the official order to stand down. When leaflets were air dropped over the jungle telling him the war was over, Onoda dismissed them as propaganda, and he only stopped when his former commanding officer flew in personally and gave him the order in a form his system recognised as legitimate.

Deep in your client's nervous system, one part may still be running the war, and that part is often described as the amygdala, involved in threat detection and emotional learning. At some point, often early in life, a threat was real, and the system mobilised, issuing a standing order to stay alert and stay defended. That order may never have been fully updated.

Cortisol can be thought of as part of the body's alert system, supporting vigilance and readiness in the face of perceived threat. Over time, a state of prolonged readiness can be exhausting by design. Under chronic stress, the body reallocates resources in ways that prioritise immediate survival over longer-term maintenance. As Robert Sapolsky documents in Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers, systems such as digestion, cellular repair, immune regulation, and reproductive function may be downregulated when the body is persistently preparing for danger. It is as if the body is running a war economy, stripping back non-essential processes to keep the patrol going.

Even improvements in sleep can begin to ease that load, yet for some people, the system does not easily stand down. Chronic hypervigilance is often associated with disrupted or shallow sleep. Matthew Walker's research shows that sustained sleep restriction, even at seemingly manageable levels, degrades cognitive performance and that this deficit can accumulate over time. Each poor night may place further strain on a system already working hard to maintain stability.

Oxytocin is often described as playing a role in bonding, connection, and the regulation of stress responses. It is sometimes referred to as a "love hormone," although this is a simplification. A more useful way to think about it is as part of the broader biological signalling involved in safety, connection, and social engagement. For some individuals, particularly those with a history of chronic stress, these signalling systems may not register safety easily or consistently. They may understand intellectually that they are safe or supported, but that understanding does not always translate into a felt sense of safety. This is less about information and more about how that information is received and processed within the nervous system.

Talking therapy can communicate safety at a cognitive level, yet the delivery mechanism matters. If the system has learned to treat certain signals as unreliable, those signals may be dismissed in much the same way Onoda dismissed the leaflets. In this sense, the challenge is not simply what is said, but how the message is delivered and whether it reaches the level at which the original threat response is organised.

Meanwhile, the immune system can also be influenced by prolonged stress. In some conditions, including psoriasis, immune activity and inflammatory signalling become dysregulated, contributing to accelerated skin cell turnover and the formation of characteristic plaques. While stress does not fully explain such conditions, it is recognised as a factor that can exacerbate them. In metaphorical terms, it can appear as though the body remains mobilised even when no clear external threat is present.

IEMT does not simply explain that the war is over. Its intention is to help update patterns of response at a level that is more automatic and less reliant on conscious reasoning. When such shifts occur, some clients report changes in how readily they experience calm, safety, or reduced reactivity. These changes may be accompanied by gradual improvements in areas such as sleep, stress regulation, and general well-being, although these processes are often variable and unfold over time.

But here is what the metaphor also teaches. When Onoda walked out of that jungle in March 1974, he was, in the words of every reporter present, erect but emaciated, his fatigues patched so many times the original cloth was barely visible. Nearly three decades of disrupted sleep, chronic stress and a limited diet had left their mark at every level of his biology. While the decision to stand down happened in a single afternoon when his commanding officer gave the order, the condition of his body reflected a much longer process.

Your client is the same, because the moment a shift occurs is not the moment full recovery arrives, but the moment recovery becomes possible. The downstream work of rebuilding sleep quality, restoring nutritional status and relearning what safety feels like in a body that has adapted to long-term vigilance can take time. Many clients arrive after years of trying to manage an overwhelming internal state with whatever tools were available. Prescription medication, alcohol, comfort eating, smoking and other forms of self-medication can all provide short-term relief, and in many cases, they were understandable attempts to cope.

Over time, however, these same strategies may place additional strain on the system. When the liver is processing alcohol or medication, it has fewer resources for other functions, the gut may be less efficient at absorbing nutrients, and respiratory health can be affected by smoking. These habits are not character flaws but adaptive responses developed under pressure. Once the system begins to shift, reducing or replacing them can support the longer-term process of recovery.

The recovery is not a sprint. Adapting daily habits, restoring circadian rhythm and shifting toward more supportive patterns of living takes time, often measured in months rather than weeks. In this way, it is not unlike the process Onoda himself faced in learning to live as a civilian again. It is not simply knowing that the war is over, but gradually experiencing, in the body as well as the mind, that it is safe to stand down.