INOUE Sozaemon, 20 years old at the time. After graduating from junior high school on Sado Island in Niigata Prefecture, Sozaemon went to Fifth High School in Kumamoto. In July 1945, after Kumamoto City was heavily bombed, he returned to Sado Island, thinking it might be his last chance to go home. Later, he was told to go back to school, and on his way to Kumamoto, he entered the city of Hiroshima just after it had been destroyed by the atomic bomb.
It was early morning on August 8 when the train unexpectedly stopped. The paasengers were dropped off at Kaitaichi Station and began walking along the tracks. At dawn, as he arrived at Hiroshima Station, he saw an empty city spread out before him; it smelled of rotting fish. After only passing through Hiroshima, he wonders if he can really call himself an A-bomb survivor? He reminds us that the nuclear issue, which seems on the verge of becoming distant history, is still a living reality.
Life before the A-bomb
It was a time of intense militarism. Everything about our country seemed oriented toward war, and I often found myself wondering why. When I entered junior high, various subjects related to military training were required, all of which I was terrible at. I was on Sado Island, and I knew I couldn't get ahead just graduating from a rural middle school. After leaving that junior high, I went to Tokyo and spent a year studying on my own. After that, I was able to enter Fifth High in Kumamoto. I wanted to study with those strong, brave Kyushu men.
I entered Fifth High in 1944, so the war was already nearing its end, but I still insisted on going to Kumamoto. Once I arrived, it lived up to my expectations. The school culture was simplicity and fortitude. It was by no means a militarist atmosphere. High school under the old system was supposed to be a free, totally unbounded three-year period of study. But in 1945, when I was a sophomore, we were called to be "mobilized labor." The former workers in munitions factories had been called up and sent to war. With no workers left, the labor was turned over to students like me. When I was called up, I remained at our school. A gymnasium on campus was commandeered for use as a munitions factory. I was involved in building a fighter called the Hiryu. Not the whole thing, but part of the fuselage. That is what my team was doing.
On July 1, 1945, B-29s carpet bombed the city with fire bombs. The bombing of Kumamoto was an atrocity. However, our school was in the suburbs. Not a single bomb fell near us during the July 1 air raid. Our campus was unscathed. However, a parts supplier for the Hiryu was damaged, so parts stopped coming in, and there was nothing we could do. I decided to return to Sado Island while I could, but buying a ticket was a challenge. I took the night train and returned home, but had to stand up all the way.
On the island, I took it easy for a while, but on August 5, the school contacted me. I think it was a telegram. It said I had to go back school. So on August 5, I left Sado with the thought in my mind that this could be the last time I would ever see our island. On the way, I dropped by to see my only sister, who was a teacher at a Girls High School in Tokaichi, a town in Niigata Prefecture.
August 8: Entering Hiroshima
The atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima on August 6, but I had no idea. This kind of thing goes on today, but at that time, the government really never told the public anything it didn't want them to know. I left my sister's house on the 7th knowing nothing about Hiroshima. Then, when we arrived at Kaitaichi Station at around 2:00 a.m. on August 8, we were told, "The train cannot go beyond this point. All passengers must walk on the tracks." I walked alone and silently in the middle of the night. I was wearing tall geta (a kind of wooden clog) and it was the middle of the night, so I couldn't walk very far. I ended up walking barefoot. I was walking barefoot from about 2:00 to 5:00 a.m., about three hours, but I couldn't walk very fast. Then, about 5:30, someone said, "This is Hiroshima." I looked around, but there was nothing there. It was Hiroshima Station, so there should at least have been some sort of station building. As far as I can remember, there was no station building . There may have been some sections of a building but not much was left standing. To my surprise, the burnt ruins of the city of Hiroshima did not smell at all of the oil from fire bombs. "What could have happened here?" I wondered. Hiroshima smelled more like rotten fish than oil. That was my impression.
There were no buildings. As far as I could see all structures were crushed to rubble. My legs were worn out, so I decided to rest for awhile before moving on. I laid out my cloak and sat on it cross-legged. I have no recollection of what happened to all the other passengers from my train. There had been lots of us, but it seems we just scattered. As it gradually grew brighter, and I could see my surroundings better, I started walking. One streetcar track went straight from the station to the center of the city, as it does now, while another went to the left. It divided into two lines, probably after crossing the river. I went to the left. The right side, towards the city center, was damaged so badly it would have been hard to walk that way.
For some reason, I got the impression that the whole city was sprinkled with light ink. Concrete was lying in chunks. The walls of houses had collapsed. It was all a terrible mess. Tsurumi Bridge was made of wood, and a place called Showa-machi lay beyond it. I think I crossed Tsurumi Bridge, which is upstream from Miyuki Bridge. I definitely climbed up into a higher area. From up high, I saw the wreckage of a broadcasting station, a bank, and many other buildings. Only concrete frames were left standing. Windows were blown out, and all structures lay empty, gutted by fire. It wasn't just that the window frames were burned out. Some sort of intense pressure had blown everything in all the buildings one direction or the other. The whole scene was so terrible.
I put my hand on the debris to step over something, then lowered one foot down onto something slimy. It was a person, but the lower half was completely missing. I was stepping on internal organs. I was shocked, "What?!" I backed a couple of steps away from that body saying, "I'm sorry." Suddenly, everything around me went black. I couldn't see a thing. I was in a massive swarm of flies. Stepping on the body caused an enormous number of flies to rise up and fly around. I will never forget that experience.
I saw a streetcar near City Hall. Two days after the bombing, the car retained its shape because it was made of steel, but the steel had been burned to red rust. I looked into that streetcar, wondering why it was burned red instead of charred black. Crushed corpses were lying in tatters to one side. Strange as it may seem, a large crowd had gathered between the streetcar and the tracks. Now, they were all dead. I think they were probably trapped by the fire and, unable to bear the heat, they crawled under the streetcar, where they were burned to death. That seemed to be the situation.
Heading for Koi Station
I don't know how many rivers I crossed, but it seemed like I would walk for just a short while and come to another river. And there, I would think, "I can't go any further." When I got to a river I would wander back and forth trying to figure out which way I had to go to get across. Eventually, as it got close to noon, the tide was coming in bringing a huge number of bodies up the river with it. I didn't know Hiroshima very well, so I would turn this way and that and think, "Hey, I thought I was headed downstream. I must have made a mistake." As it turned out, it took almost 15 hours (to get through Hiroshima City).
Eventually, I arrived at Koi Station. Of course, I didn't know it was Koi Station. I found that out later. There was no station building, just empty ground, which was right next to a mountain. The leaves on those trees, the ones nearest Hiroshima, were mostly burned off. I saw people were sleeping under those trees. I wondered if they were just tired and taking a nap, but they were not. They had been in Hiroshima at the time of the bomb. Some stood there in a daze. If they had been in a normal state of mind, they would have talked to people saying, "I saw this; I saw that," things like that, right? They would say things like, "How's your neighborhood?" But no such conversation took place. Everyone was completely silent. It was all they could do to just stand there.
At about 5 p.m. when it was still light, a train came in backward. Everyone boarded quietly, starting with those who were nearest. The A-bomb victims also got on board. A woman with a child on her back sat right beside me. I looked at her face and saw it was earthy brown. Bright red flesh was showing from her shoulder down to arm like this. Ripped red flesh. Yellow pus was still oozing from the edges of the torn skin. I was sitting close. I was touching her, but I had no feeling of disgust or repulsion. I said, "Your baby is dead, isn't it?" and she said, "Yes, he is." She said, "I have no choice. I need to get back to my hometown." That was the kind of situation it was. Normally, she would be yelling or screaming in pain and horror. The slightest touch would make her jump. But we were all numb. We were in a state of mind, a state of shock that only a bomb like that could create. If a nuclear weapon were suddenly dropped on us here, any survivors would quickly be in that state.
Return to Kumamoto
From Iwakuni, I took a train to Shimonoseki, then on to Moji. The train was stopped again at Moji. Military police got on there, and we were taken into the station building and interviewed. I was asked, "Where did you come from?" I told him I was going back to school in Kumamoto and explained my situation. He asked me details about Hiroshima. I told him what I could remember. It was two days after the bombing, right? I assumed the newspapers would have reported that bombing by then. But that terrible damage had yet to be announced, so even the military police in Moji knew almost nothing about it. He was eager to know more so he kept asking me questions.
All this was happening about 2 or 3 a.m. on the 9th at Moji Station. I went through Hakata and finally arrived in Kamikumamoto around 11:00 or so, a little before noon. I was walking down the street, going through Kumamoto, from the direction of Kurume and Nagasaki, I heard an indescribable booming sound coming from that direction. I now believe that was the sound of the atomic bomb exploding over Nagasaki.
When I returned to my room, I just dropped my bags and went straight to sleep. This I was told later. I did not talk about Hiroshima. I told only my friends in the rooming house. I guess it was about a week later. A survey team's findings were finally made public, and that is when we first found out it was an atomic bomb. Rumors began flying. People said Hiroshima would no longer have any grass or trees. The survivors would never be able to have children. I had passed through Hiroshima two days after the bombing. I was there all day long, from morning to evening. I wondered how the radiation might affect my health. I wondered about it, but I almost never said anything in public or to my colleagues.
The War Ends
The war was over. I didn't show it openly, but in my heart, I was completely glad. Really!! Everyone I knew felt that way. "We've been fighting this stupid war for 15 years." In particular, I thought it was shameful that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were in such a state. I also thought, "Finally, I can go to school," and that was it. It was over.
On August 15, everyone gathered in the auditorium to listen to the Emperor's broadcast. No one cried out when they heard it. When it was over, everyone just quietly filed out. One of the teachers at school said, "Gentlemen, we are going to have an English liberal arts class. Please join if you're interested." And that's where it started. A crowd of students filled the 30-seat classroom to overflowing. We wanted to hear his lecture. It's amazing how happy I was at that time. I worked really hard to keep up with my studies.
Effects of the Atomic Bombing
I got married at 25. Our first child miscarried at about 3 months. We almost had another child in 1952, but she died at 9 months and 10 days of pregnancy, just before being born. I began to think these problems might have something to do with Hiroshima. Later, I had a myocardial infarction. I was only 55 but I barely survived. I thought this, too, might have something to do with the atomic bombing.
I obtained my Hibakusha Health Certificate when I was 66. Until then, although I had spent a day in Hiroshima, I had no plan to get a health certificate just because I walked through. But my high school classmates put out a magazine to which every former student had to contribute 200 words about his memory of Fifth High. I wrote about Hiroshima. One of my colleagues read the 200 words I wrote and said, What? All this happened to you? Go get a health certificate, now!" So I went to the Tokyo Government Office and said, "I was in Hiroshima, and I came here to apply." At that time, two witnesses were an absolute requirement to obtain the Hibakusha Health Certificate. But I had no such witness. I was a student at Fifth High. I was traveling alone. I told my story again and said, "My friends told me to come here so…."The staff listened to me attentively and said, "Mr. Inoue, please write down your memories of passing through Hiroshima in as much detail as possible and submit it to us." I didn't do a very good job, but I submitted the application. As soon as I did so, I was issued the Hibakusha Health Certificate, and the date on my certificate was the day after I submitted the application.
I received the handbook, but honestly, I still wonder if I can truly call myself a hibakusha. I could certainly have been affected by radiation to some extent but, really, I'm not sure my exposure rises to the level of a hibakusha.
Taking Action for Nuclear Abolition
When summer comes, I can't help but think about Hiroshima. I feel the need to do something, and this feeling increases with each passing year. I feel I just have to convey the horror of what I saw in Hiroshima, and I know the same tragedy took place in Nagasaki. Nuclear weapons are devices that threaten us all. If someday somone pushes the button, that will be the end of humanity. I keep feeling ever more strongly that we absolutely cannot ever allow such a thing to happen. Every chance I get, I write about my experience, and I tell my story whenever and wherever I'm invited to do so.
Just a little mistake is all it would take. I've learned that the weapons we have now are far more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb. If weapons like that are used, that would truly be the end. Although some politicians and many others oppose nuclear weapons, we tend to be defeated by the nuclear deterrence argument. But here's how we can change the situation. We need a grassroots movement involving each and every one of us. We need to build tremendous political power. The only way to protect ourselves is to spread such a movement all around the world. I want the Japanese government to say, not just in Japan but to the entire world, that nuclear weapons must be abolished. Japan is the A-bombed country, right? It's terrible that the A-bombed country has yet to ratify the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons.
It's been 73 years. Hiroshima is fading into history, but nuclear weapons are not just history. They remain a grave, unsolved problem right now. Some young people today do take it seriously, but most don't, I'm afraid. Only with a good understanding of the truth and the backstory behind the truth can we maintain peace. I'm very worried that we may never be able to achieve and maintain real peace.
Translation: LEEPER Steven
Translation Supervisor: SAWADA Miwako
Translation Coordination: NET-GTAS (Network of Translators for the Globalization of the Testimonies of Atomic Bomb Survivors)
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