８月６日
昭和20年(1945年)、私は23歳。
この頃男性教員の出征が増え、教員不足が深刻だった。国の方針で私も女子大を繰り上げ卒業となり、東京で国民学校の理科教員をしていた。理系で子ども好きな私にはぴったりの職場だった。
5月の空襲で焼けた実家の整理のため、私は疎開先の長崎県から東京へ向け一人列車に乗った。空襲による列車の遅れのため降りる予定の全く無かった広島駅に下車してしまう。
午前８時15分。駅近くの旅館の軒先で夏の日差しを右半身に受けて立つ。
閃光が、パッと私を包む。火の海に投げ込まれたような熱さ。
「お母さん、熱い！」
悲鳴をあげ、瞬間、ぢりつ！！と焼かれて、きりきり舞いをして体を大きく反らし道路に叩きつけられた。
（死ななかった）
涙をぼろぼろ流して震えた。慌てて右腕を見ると半袖のブラウスは黒く焼け切れ、肘から肩までの皮膚がすっかり剥げて縮れている。
駅前の人々の長い列は消えていた。
見知らぬ青年が私の手をぐっと掴んだ。「早く逃げましょう。」「僕の家が街の中央にあるから、そこで手当てをしましょう。」彼と共に駈け出す。
全市が火に包まれるとの恐怖に川へと急ぐ。
「あっ！」
男の人が背中の皮を着物のように腰の所に垂れ下げ背中一杯赤い肉を剥(む)き出している。私は一握りの髪の毛がざっくり焼け切れ、右腕は肩の肉が剥(は)がれたように焼け取れていた。
黒い雨が降り出す。対岸の火柱がこちらの岸へ倒れてくる。背後からの炎に私は群衆に押され川に落ちた。川底に踏みつけられ死に直面するが彼に命を助けられる。
黒こげの死体が苦しみ悶えた姿のまま無数に転がっている。焼けて骨組みだけの電車。踏み台に片足を乗せたまま黒い骨になった人。
（ああっ！）
叫ぼうとして手を合わせた。自分だけ助かったとの思いに苦しめられる。ただただ頭を下げ黙々と足を早めた。
ある橋で彼は「ここで待っていて下さい。」と何回も言い残して自宅の方へ向かって行った。しかし数え切れない黒い屍体が怖くなり、彼との約束に反して救護のトラックに乗ってしまう。四日市(※または五日市)の救護所に入る。
まだ彼の名前も聞いていなかった。
８月７日
顔も右腕も激しく腫れ上がり、歩ける状態ではなくなっていた。40度を越す高熱、激しい腹痛とひどい下痢。講堂には沢山の屍体、何時か自分もあそこに並べられるという恐怖感。医師からは「大分弱っている。」と。
（どうせ死ぬのなら、家に帰ろう。それ迄は死にたくない。）
執念の炎が燃え上がる。
８月８日 ８月９日
その想いが何も食べていない高熱の私を立ち上がらせ、駅へと向かわせた。
列車を何度も乗継ぎ二日がかりで疎開先の我が家に辿り着く。医者は長崎で被爆した人を診てなす術もなく亡くなったのに懲りて来てくれない。痛さに耐えながら、水に溶いた漂白粉で自分で腕を消毒をした。長い眠りの中、生と死の2日間を彷徨(さまよ)い、生きぬいた私は奇跡だったかもしれない。
その後ひどい下痢に苦しみ、痛みに泣き、夜も日も呻き通した。父と3人の妹達の献身的な看病のお陰で顔や肩の火傷のケロイドは少しずつ回復していった。終戦により日本人は生命の尊さを教えられ、戦争のむなしさを知らされた。
(※長崎への原爆投下は8月9日午前11時2分。 被爆者を診た医師の話からこの記述は8月10日とも考えられる。高熱で記憶があいまいだった可能性がある)
－ 愛というもの －
私の生命はあの青年の愛と、肉親の愛によって奇跡的に助かった。誰ひとり助けられなかった、大きな犠牲の上に生きたという責を感じ、10年間は毎晩あの恐怖に魘(うな)され続けた。今も、助けをよぶ人の声が、阿鼻叫喚(あびきょうかん)の中で死んだ何10万人の悲しみが、私の心を苛(さいな)む。
彼は見知らぬ私を終始守ってくれた。彼の心に触れる時、利己のない愛だけがこの宿命を救ってくれるように思える。
昭和28年頃新聞記者が訪ねて来たが、あの日を思う事は耐えられず、語ろうとしても言葉が途切れてしまう。
20年後の今日、やっと書き留めて置きたいと思うのは、広島の惨劇がまだ終わっていないという思いからかもしれない。
青年の横顔が私の心に生きているからかもしれない。
そして何時か大人になった私の子ども達3人にこれを読ませたいと念うのである。
【追記】
亡き母・永石和子は1965年に原稿用紙50枚(英語版 約8,500単語)の被爆体験記「いのち」をまとめました。今回の「愛と死の記録」はこの体験記の要約版です。一人でも多く人に読んで欲しいとの母の遺志を受けて、原爆投下80年にあたり読みやすい要約版を作りました。原文はこの国立広島原爆死没者追悼平和祈念館のサイト「体験記を読む」で「永石和子」を検索すると読むことが出来ます。
2025.7.3
平和への祈りを込めて
近藤 泉 (永石和子の娘)
【英語版】
"Life" — A Testimony of the Hiroshima Atomic Bombing
Record of Love and Death
NAGAISHI Kazuko
August 6
In 1945 (Showa 20), I was 23 years old.
Due to the increasing conscription of male teachers, there was a severe shortage of educators. The government decided to approve the early graduation of students and, because of this, I commenced work straight away as a science teacher at an elementary school in Tokyo. It was the perfect job for someone like me, with a science background and a love for children.
In order to help clean up my family home that had burned down in an air raid in May, I took a train by myself from my evacuation site in Nagasaki to Tokyo. Because of delays caused by air raids, I ended up getting off at Hiroshima Station, even though I had no intention of doing so.
At 8:15 a.m., I was standing under the eaves of a ryokan (inn) near the station, the summer sun shining on my right side.
A flash enveloped me in an instant. It was as if I had been thrown into a sea of fire.
" Oh Mum, it's hot!"
I screamed with pain as the sound of searing flesh overcame me, spinning around violently. My body arched back and slammed onto the road.
"I'm still alive," I thought.
Tears poured down my face as I trembled.
In panic, I looked at my right arm: my short-sleeved blouse was charred black and burnt away, and the skin from my elbow to my shoulder had peeled and shriveled.
The long line of people in front of the station had vanished.
A young man I didn’t know suddenly grabbed my hand tightly. "Let's run! My house is in the city center — we can treat your wounds there. " We began running together.
Terrified that the entire city was going to be consumed by fire, we rushed toward the river.
"Ah!" I exclaimed as I saw a man with skin on his back hanging down like a kimono, exposing raw red flesh across his back. A handful of my hair had been singed off, and the flesh on my right shoulder had burned away.
Black rain began to fall. Flames on the far side of the river leaned towards us. Pushed by the crowd fleeing the fire behind us, I fell into the river. I was trampled on the bottom of the river and faced death — but the young man saved me.
Countless charred bodies lay twisted in agony. A train carriage was burned down to its skeleton. Someone who had been turned to blackened bones had one foot still resting on a step.
"Ahh!"
I tried to scream and joined my hands in prayer. The thought of surviving alone tormented me. I could only bow my head and walk quickly in silence.
At a bridge, the young man said repeatedly, "Please wait here," and headed toward his house. But the sight of countless blackened corpses scared me, and despite our agreement, I boarded a relief truck and was taken to a relief center in Yokkaichi (or possibly Itsukaichi).
I never even found out what his name was.
August 7
My face and right arm swelled severely. I could no longer walk. I had a temperature over 40°C (104°F), severe abdominal pain, and terrible diarrhea. The auditorium was filled with corpses. I feared that one day I would be lined up among them. Looking at me, the doctor said "She's weakening."
I began to think, "If I'm going to die anyway, I want to die at home. Until then, I won't let myself die." A burning determination rose within me.
August 8–9
Fueled by that resolve, I managed to stand and head to the station despite my high temperature and not having eaten. After changing trains many times over two days, I finally reached my family’s home where I had sought refuge. Doctors, traumatized after being unable to help victims of the Nagasaki bombing, refused to visit me. Even though it caused me a lot of pain, I disinfected my arm with bleach dissolved in water. For two days I hovered between life and death in a deep sleep. Surviving might have been a miracle.
Later, I suffered from relentless diarrhea, cried from the pain, and groaned day and night. Thanks to the devoted care of my father and three younger sisters, the keloid scars on my face and shoulder slowly began to heal. With the war’s end, the Japanese people were taught the value of life and the futility of war.
(Note: The Nagasaki atomic bombing occurred at 11:02 a.m. on August 9. Based on the doctor's account of treating bombing survivors, this part may have taken place on August 10. The author’s memory may be unclear due to her severe fever.)
— What Love Is —
My life was miraculously saved by the love of that young man and the love of my family.
I was tormented for ten years by nightmares of that terror — a burden of having survived when so many others couldn’t. Even now, the cries for help and the sorrow of the hundreds of thousands who died in that hellish scene haunt my heart.
That young man protected a total stranger like me from beginning to end. When I think of his heart, I feel that only selfless love can save such a tragic fate.
Around 1953, a newspaper reporter came to ask about my experience, but remembering that day was unbearable — I couldn’t speak without choking up.
Twenty years later, I am finally able to write this down. Perhaps it is because I feel the tragedy of Hiroshima is still not over.
Or perhaps it is because the young man’s profile still lives on in my heart.
I hope that someday, my three grown children will read this.
【Postscript】
My deceased mother, Kazuko Nagaishi, compiled a 50-page manuscript (approximately 8,500 words in English) of her atomic bomb experience titled “Life” in 1965. On this occasion, “Records of Love and Death” is a summarized version of this memoir. In accordance with my mother’s wish for as many people as possible to read it, we created an easy-to-read summary version on the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombing. The original text can be read by searching for “Kazuko Nagaishi” in the “Read Testimonials” section of the Hiroshima National Peace Memorial Hall for the Atomic Bomb Victims Website.
〈Translator〉
John NICHOL
Fumiko NICHOL
WATABE Kuniko
2025.7.3
With my deepest gratitude for translators.
With prayers for peace.
KONDO Izumi (Kazuko’s daughter)
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