WW2 Japanese Sword Rescue: Preserving a Late War Japanese Type 3 Shin Gunto Sword

The Find

While visiting one of my favorite military surplus shops, I noticed a neglected Japanese sword leaning behind the counter. As it was placed on the glass case, flakes of rust and grime fell away. A plastic bag accompanied it, filled with loose parts including the original handle wrapping.

From the fittings alone, I recognized it as a late war Type 3 (Rinji Seishiki) gunto. The tsuka (handle) had lost nearly all of its wrapping, and the fittings were heavily oxidized, though the rust appeared superficial.

Removing the dried wooden tsuka revealed more debris and, more importantly, the tang inscription. The maker’s signature (mei) was present and translated to Katsumasa (勝正). While there were a couple sword makers in WW2 Japan that singed their swords as 'Katsumasa', the most common maker is Kojima Katsumasa, who produced swords in the city of Seki in Noshu prefecture. The date was also clear: “Produced, 20th year, 2nd month”, or February 1945, the 20th year of Emperor Showa’s reign.

Left: Signature of swordmaker Kojima Katsumasa of Noshu prefecture. Center: Production dates that read, "Produced, 20th year, 2nd month", (February, 1945). Right: Untouched Type 3 sword.

Despite surface rust and light pitting, the blade was structurally sound. No chips, cracks, or bends. The steel scabbard showed pitting and paint loss but no major dents. Even the wooden liner, though brittle, was intact. After some negotiation, I purchased the sword for $375, not a bad price if you ask me.

A Brief History of the Type 3 Shin Gunto

The Type 3 guntō has a debated history. Some sources date its introduction to 1943, others earlier, and some refer to it as a late 1944 pattern. For clarity, I’ll use the commonly accepted collector term: Type 3.

This pattern was developed as a simplified alternative to the Type 98 shin guntō, largely to conserve brass. Earlier swords used brass tsuba (handguard) and fittings; the Type 3 replaced most of these with blackened iron. Typically, only the habaki (collar) remained brass.

The tsuka wrapping style was also simplified. Instead of the intricate hinerimaki seen on Type 98 swords, Type 3 mounts commonly feature katatemaki (“one-handed wrap”), sometimes combined with hiramaki (flat wrap). These styles were faster to apply, often completed in half an hour, compared to the several hours required for traditional hinerimaki wrapping. Other wartime efficiencies included simplified fittings, reduced decorative elements, and increased reliance on machine produced blades.

Left: Traditional folded hinerimaki. Center: Flat wrapping known as hiramaki. Right: katatemaki, or“one-handed wrap".

Dissassembly, Cleaning, and Repair

Disassembly came first. The tsuba and habaki were stubborn, likely held in place by old grease and oxidation. With lubrication, gentle heat, and light tapping, both were removed without damage.

All components were cleaned using mild soap, hot water, and a soft brush to remove dirt, oil, and loose rust. After thorough drying with compressed air and low heat, I applied a light coat of gun oil to the blade to inhibit further corrosion.

The tsuka presented the biggest challenge. The wood had dried and shrunk, splitting the two halves apart. I briefly considered fabricating a new handle and even carved one from scrap wood but ultimately chose to preserve the original. The cracks were stabilized with thin wood glue and held together with rubber bands until the glue dried. Because of shrinkage, the two halves were left separate rather than reglued, preventing future splitting when mounted over the swords tang.

Cracked and separated tsuka along with rusty fittings.

I followed a similar process for stabilizing the wooden scabbard liner. Although the two halves hadn’t totally separated, they were close. I gently opened up the seam and again used toothpicks to apply wood glue down the length of the wood and secured with rubber bands.

Expanding the seam of the scabbard liner and applying glue.

Menuki are bamboo pegs used to secure the tsuka to the blade.

The sword came with both of its original bamboo pegs used to secure the handle to the blade called “menuki”. One was in good condition, while the other was broken in half and was unusable. I crafted a new peg by cutting a large bamboo chopstick to length and then tapering it to the same profile as the good menuki.

Examining the original ito revealed no crease marks, suggesting it had been wrapped in a katatemaki and hiramaki combination typical of Type 3 swords. Beneath the wrap, Type 3 handles use ray skin (samegawa), whose directional nodules help grip the ito and prevent slippage during use. Sourcing replacement samegawa was straightforward. Finding correct ito was not.

Ray skin, or 'samegawa', is used to to hold the handles wrapping in place.

My first attempt, an Amazon purchase, was completely wrong in width, color, and elasticity. The original measured approximately 8mm and was light coffee brown cotton. I ultimately sourced proper 8mm cotton ito from a Japanese supplier offering period correct options. The initial mistake was not wasted, however. While waiting for the correct materials, I practiced wrapping techniques, referencing Military Swords of Japan: 1868–1945 by Richard Fuller and Ron Gregory. Their step-by-step illustrations allowed me to practice the wrapping and how to properly tie the finishing knots. By the time the correct materials arrived, I was ready.

The color, width, and elasticity of the Amazon ito was totally wrong; however, it gave me the oppourtunity to practice wrapping and tying.

Putting It All Together

Once the ray skin and correct ito arrived, I got to work. I began by cutting paper templates for the samegawa and tracing the pattern onto the ray skin. I was careful to ensure that I had the templates cut correctly to allow for the nodules of the ray skin to point toward the tip of the sword. After cutting the strips, I lightly toned them with black coffee to give a subtle period appropriate patina. I then mixed a 50/50 solution of white glue and water and brushed a thin coat onto the underside of the ray skin before securing it to the tsuka with rubber bands to dry.

With the glue set, I removed the bands and began wrapping the cotton ito. Working slowly and deliberately, I followed the overlapping pattern required for the Type 3 configuration. Even with practice, achieving proper tension and symmetry was challenging, but the earlier trial runs paid off. Once the fittings, known as menuki were secured within the wrap, I tied the finishing knots at the base of the handle, locking everything firmly into place. It took me about two hours from the start of wrapping, to finishing the knot.

I gathered all my parts and began to reassemble the sword. First, the habaki was pressed into place, following by a spacer (seppa), tsuba (handguard) and another seppa. The fuchi (collar) along with the latch was pressed onto the end of the tsuba. The tsuba was then pressed onto the tang of the sword. It was a nice snug fit. Finally, the two wooden mekugi were pressed into place, securing the tsuba to the blade.

Lastly, I folded one inch by one-inch squares of paper into long rectangles and placed them between the wooden scabbard liner and the metal sheath. This would allow for a snug fit of the liner inside the scabbard, but would allow me to remove the liner if necessary in the future.

Conclusion

What began as a rust covered relic leaning behind a surplus counter is now once again a complete late Second World War Type 3 gunto. This was never about making the sword look new. It was about stabilizing what remained, preserving original material wherever possible, and returning the piece to a condition that reflects how it would have appeared in the final months of the war.

I chose repair over replacement where possible. The original tsuka was saved. The fittings were conserved rather than refinished. The wrapping was done in the proper late war style using the most correct materials I could source. Every decision was guided by respect for the sword’s history.

Holding it now, fully assembled, it no longer feels neglected. It feels preserved, a tangible artifact from the closing chapter of World War II, given a second life without erasing its past.

For $375 and a great deal of patience, I’d call that a success.