An intense flash of orange light burst in without making any sound. Unable to determine what had happened, I instinctively hid under a desk.
This happened on the morning of August 6, 1945, at Factory Number Hiro-7264 (Hiroshima Aircraft), which was located near what is now Higashi-Takasu Station. I was a second-year student at First Hiroshima Prefectural Girls’ High School and was waiting as a mobilized student for the day to begin with my friends. That was when the flash happened. After escaping from the collapsing building, we suddenly found ourselves huddled under a loquat tree on a nearby mountain. At that time, black rain fell. Until then, we just ran away in a panic, not having any room to think about what had happened. It was around this time that my lucidity finally returned, and memories from before the flash came back to me. I think we were told we had the day off from work that day, so we planned to go swimming in a nearby river. Looking back, I wonder if there was already a shortage of materials for making airplanes; we had no idea about the situation in the country towards the end of the war. Suddenly, even though the air-raid alert had been lifted, B29s were flying through the clear, cloudless midsummer sky, leaving contrails. Curious, I went over to the window and this is when the blast happened. Obviously, I was injured by the glass shards. However, even after fleeing to the mountain, my mind and heart were so blank that I only then finally noticed blood on me. I waited. I really waited. But no one came for me. Seeing my friends being reunited with their families one by one, I spent my time in great anxiety. I watched in a daze as the victims evacuated to the area in miserable physical conditions that made them look like they were not even human. After a while, I finally began to wonder about my family and my home. Some people said that gas tanks exploded while others said, seeing the flames burning all over the city, that the black rain was due to the oil sprinkled by the incendiary bombs dropped. I thought that there was no way I could return to my home in the city center. I waited in fear and anxiety. Finally, my friend and I began to walk towards Jigozen, where we had decided to evacuate. Along the way, a constant stream of victims walked alongside us, naked and burned, with their skin hanging off their bodies, begging for water. Everyone remained silent, but in our hearts we were screaming, “Hang in there, hang in there,” as we walked. At Jigozen, I found my mother. She survived because she did not return to Hiroshima due to the air-raid warning issued on the night before. It was truly an emotional moment when we confirmed that one another was alive.
From the next day onwards, we searched for my father. We went back to our house in Ote-machi, which was still smoldering, and then walked around the city and beyond, wherever we could think of, for a month. However, in the end, we never saw him again. While searching for my father, we heard a mother cry out, “Where is my baby? The baby I was carrying on my back!” We turned over with our own hands corpses floating in the river that did not even look like human beings, or charred corpses lying on the road, to look for my father. I remember watching with my mother in Kamiya-cho in silence as corpses were burned using oil, with their stomachs split open and their orange intestines gradually spilling out. I was 13, an age that should have been filled with sensitivity, yet my days passed in a state of mind devoid of fear, cruelty, sadness, pain, or suffering — a state in which both will and emotion had vanished.
In September, a typhoon hit Hiroshima, washing away the cobblestones laid at the entrance to our house. There, a single piece of bone reduced to ashes was found. The uncle and aunt who were thought to be together with my father were never found. In an instant, I lost my family, many friends, my home, and my school. Then, at the end of September, I started bleeding from the throat and was diagnosed with diphtheria. Immediately afterwards, I developed a fever, which continued to be high, and then I started to experience intestinal bleeding and hair loss. Looking back, I can clearly see that these were the onset of A-bomb related diseases. At the time, though, I was diagnosed with typhoid fever. I am wondering what has kept me alive since that day, when it would not be an exaggeration to say I lost everything. Precisely because of peace, I have received so many blessings that have brought me to this day. I feel a strong desire to convey my gratitude and thoughts. Acknowledging this heavy history has become my prayer for peace in the future. As long as I live, I will continue to convey my heartfelt wishes for the repose of the souls of the deceased and also a message for the next generation. |
