WRITTEN MONUMENT(English)

WRITTEN MONUMENT is a book of memoirs written by A-bomb survivors living in Funairi Mutsumien, an A-bomb survivors victims home, and was published in 1981 to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the foundation of the Home and the 35th anniversary of the A-bombing. This book will provide the readers with opportunities to know about survivors’ lives after the A-bombing as well as the situation at the time of the A-bombing.

We would like to express special thanks to the members of the translation class of the World Friendship Center for translation into English and to Miki Minamoto and Kyoko Hiura and the members of Hiroshima Speaks Out for the input of Japanese. We also thank Hiroshima Municipal Government for allowing us to post this book on our web site. Since the contexts of the memoirs sometimes have something to do with the privacy of the writers and their family, we have changed their names. The ages of the survivors given in this book refer to their age when they wrote their memoir.

We wish these memoirs written by commoners in Hiroshima would catch many people’s eyes around the world and enable them to know cruelty which war brings and to think what would happen if nuclear weapons were used.

WRITTEN MONUMENT –Testimony of the A-bombed Elderly People – (first issue published on July 20, 1981) is a collection of the A-bomb victims’ stories, which was compiled to mark the 10th anniversary of the foundation of the “Mutsumien”, Hiroshima A-bomb Nursing Home and the 35th of the A-bombing.

Twenty-eight stories were selected out of 72 pieces, either from the notes written by the residents themselves or the ones orally given and taken notes by the staff in the Home.

It is not overstating that the “Written Monument”is a monument by words which the A-bomb surviving generation can pass on to the younger generation of how they, the A-bomb witnesses, survived through the post war years and came to choose the nursing home, Mutsumien, as their home in their final years.

“HIROSHIMA SPEAKS OUT!” has decided to make these notes into CD-R and distribute widely, attaching a factual record of the A-bombing, survivors’ drawings as well as the A-bomb-related homepage links, since we wish many people would read them.

Taking the “Written Monument” deep in our heart as “reviving testimonies of the A-bomb survivors“ (Yoshiaki Nakamura writes in the epilogue), we’d like to look to a peaceful century free from nuclear disasters, by sharing the acknowledgement of “nuclear” threat focused on human misery with the people in the world.

The age given is the survivor’s age at the time the note was written, and we used assumed names due to the privacy reasons.
To all those concerned who gave us permission when we make the WRITTEN MONUMENT into CD-ROM in Japanese as well as English, we’d like to express our sincere appreciation. Also, we are very grateful to the World Friendship Center Translators’ group for the English translation, Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum and Hiroshima Council of the A-bomb Counter-disaster Measures for the pictures and other materials, and the late photographer, Mr. Yoshito Matsushige for his cooperation.

Chiyoko Okazaki (71)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Kako-machi. The inside of my relative’s house at the distance of 1.0 km from
the hypocenter.
Acute symptoms of those days:
Bleeding from the back, neck, thighs and legs, arms and hands.
Fingers turned purple.
Vomiting for about one month from August 8.
Diarrhea for one year from August 20.
Loss of hair from September 28 till December. Almost complete loss.
Fever for one month from early in September.
The dead in my family:
My cousin’s child was killed by the A-bomb in Kako-machi.

My background
I was born as the second daughter of Kazuhachi and Sayo Okazaki in Yoshijima-cho, Hiroshima. I had two brothers and three sisters. I graduated from Nakajima Elementary School and continued to study at the Higher Elementary School, Kokutaiji School and graduated from it.

Father had no regular occupation because of his poor health and died of cardiac asthma at age 54. Mother, too, had heart trouble and died of heart failure at the age of 52. My sister died of heat stroke, but her daughter is well.

My oldest brother died of heart failure like our parents at age 19 in 1930. He was a student. My second older brother, also a student, suffered from typhoid in 1935 and died at age 19. My younger sister died of stomach ulcer at age 17 in 1931.
I earned money working at home; altering men’s suit and sewing kimono using the skill I had acquired when I was about 21 years old.

I got married to a 31-year-old man, Masao Takeuchi in October, 1941 when I was 25. Once I got pregnant but miscarried. Since then I did not get pregnant again. After two years of my married life, I realized that I was a nuisance to my husband because of my poor health, so I voluntarily left him in Tenjin-cho and returned to my parents’ home in Yoshijima-cho.

The clouds that came down to the ground
August 6 was my late father’s 17th anniversary, so I went to his grave with my cousin’s son, 10, whom I had thought of adopting as my son. It was just when I entered the front door of the house of my relative that I was thrown into darkness and fell. The house was located on the west side bank of the Sumiyoshi Bridge in Kako-machi. I did not know how long I had been lying unconscious, but when I came to, I found myself under the wall and pillar. I was covered with blood all over when I finally crawled my way out, breaking the bamboo sticks in the walls. I was bleeding from my back, neck, legs and arms. Looking around, I saw clouds down to the ground. I felt as if I were pressed into the clouds and could not do anything about my own body. While I was chanting a sutra not knowing what to do, the clouds gradually went away. Then muddy rain violently fell. I looked around for my child but could not find him. I’m afraid he had died in the explosion.

It was a sea of fire and smoke around me. I managed to go down to underneath the Sumiyoshi Bridge and tried to quench my thirst, but the river water was too hot to scoop. Then I crawled up again to the bank and saw charred figures groaning everywhere. Other than those injured, nobody was seen around there. I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept running in the fire with bare foot. Getting to the Kanon Bridge, I found a statue of Buddha, which gave me a feeling of relief. I was almost naked and bleeding from many parts of my body. Coming to the drainage under the statue, I saw a B-29 drop three firebombs and fly away to the south. One of them dropped into the drainage and exploded, burning most of the mugwort on both sides of the drain. Some days later, I walked around for mugwort picking as I heard the mugwort was effective to stop bleeding. I drank its juice as tea, and used the stuff left after squeezing as ointment for my wounds, so I kept looking for it. And I continued to use the mugwort to arrest bleeding for one month.

On the night of August 6, I slept on the bank of the Kanon Bridge. From the following day till September, thirteen survivors, a stranger to one another, lived together in the warehouse of Municipal Commercial School in Kanon-machi. Every day dead bodies were brought in to the playground for cremation. Later in October 1945, we built a shack on the Minamikanon Ground and lived there for about three years.

I was given various kinds of aid food, but my stomach could not accept anything. I kept vomiting for about a month since the 8th of August. I kept drinking the juice of mugwort. Looking back now, I was saved thanks to the mugwort. I also decocted some other herbs such as dokudamiso or mikonso and drank it as medicine. Though I went to see Dr. Ozawa in Eba-machi, which was the first and the last, he gave me no treatment and just shook his head. It was the middle of August.

Peddling, Side job and Housekeeping
I lived in a shack on the Minamikanon Ground since October, 1945. As I mentioned before, I lost almost all of my clothes in the A-bombing. However, my important papers and an image of Buddha, Amitabha remained luckily safe, because I had kept them always with me in froshiki, or a wrapping cloth. The news that Takeda Draper’s at the foot of the Koi Bridge survived the bombing and opened the shop prompted me to go buy something to wear. It was August 17 and I would never forget the excitement of that moment.

I couldn’t afford to go on without job, so I started peddling in 1948 and continued it for 6 years till 1954. I could tide over the poverty for some time by peddling fish from Shimane Prefecture, but my poor health compelled me to stop. Then I began sewing for money again.

I could not, however, earn enough money by the sewing at home. So, I started to work outside again as a housekeeper this time, belonging to Yasui Housekeepers’ Association in Ujina, where I stayed from 1963 till 73. I developed sciatica and could not work as I wished.

My only niece, my sister Kazue’s daughter living in Nomijima Island ever since her marriage, was said to have lived in Yoshijima-cho at the time of the A-bombing, but I did not know it because we had had lost contact.

The Buddhist sermons I look forward to hear
The money I had was only reducing and my health condition was getting worse because of my sciatica. It became difficult for me to live alone. I went to the A-bomb Survivors Relief Department in the City Office for advice. There an official in charge told me about this Home, so here I am. I entered the Home on September 1, 1977. After coming here, not knowingly, my health condition got better. Now I can manage, at least, to take care of myself. I have joined some of the club activities such as flower arrangement, tea ceremony and Japanese dancing, which are what I live for. Also, I feel very happy when I listen to the sermons by the Buddhist priest from Betsuin Temple, three times a month.

Now I am an old woman without family, yet my heart is full of joy being blessed with Buddha’s mercy and his guardian power.

Shizuko Ueda (74)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Kako-machi, Inside of my elder sister's house, 1.2 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms of those days:
Ｎo injury
Diarrhea for ten days from August 9
The dead in my family:
My niece A-bombed at Kako-machi (living with me)
My uncle A-bombed at Kanon-machi

My background
I was born as the third daughter to my parents at Toyohira-cho, Yamagata-gun. Father, Taro Tanaka, and Mother, Sae had one son and six daughters. I graduated from Asaka National Elementary School in Toyohira-cho.

My father died of cerebral hemorrhage at the age of sixty-two. My mother died of old age at the age of eighty-seven. I hear the eldest sister died shortly after she was born. The fourth sister died of heart disease at the age of sixty-eight. The fifth died of pleurisy when she was nineteen. My brother also died of sudden heart disease at the age of fifty-five. Out of the seven, only three are still alive; the second sister, Asa, who is also a resident at this nursing home, and the sixth sister, who lives in Toyohira-cho, and me.

As is often the case with a girl in those days, my parents pushed me to marry a distant cousin, Haruo Toge, who was twenty years old, about whom I knew nothing. During the six years of married life, I had two boys. Our married life had many complicated problems, so I decided to get divorced leaving the children with the Toge’s as my parents-in-law were still young and healthy. I returned to my own parents' home. As for the two children, the eldest son died at the age of twenty-one. The second son is well.

To make a living, I worked at a rental kimono shop in Kako-machi, being introduced by my uncle, Shukichi Sugi, who owned a rental kimono shop in Takasho-machi.

Nothing but a Living-hell
My elder sister, Asa and her daughter, Mihoko and I were living in a rented house in Kako-machi.

On the morning of August 6, my sister left home for work, Chugoku Paint Company, in Yoshijima-cho. Mihoko and I were exposed to the A-bombing inside the house. After I saw a flash, I fainted. I didn't know how long I remained unconscious. When I came to, I found that my two-storied house was completely destroyed, and I was caught under the debris of the building. Fortunately I had no injury; I could crawl out from the wreckage.

I desperately fled to the Sumiyoshi River and spent that day on a raft. I stayed on the Meiji Bridge during the night. What I cannot forget even today is about my niece who was also trapped under the collapsed house, shouting, "Help me, Auntie. Help me!" Though I heard her voice, I couldn't do anything but run away leaving her behind. I really felt sorry for her. On August 7th, my sister, who survived, and I went to the ruins of our burnt house, where we found the body of Mihoko. We carried her on a tin sheet to the bank of the Meiji Bridge. She was cremated there together with countless other bodies, by policemen and soldiers. The scene was a living hell on earth, nothing else. I can't forget it even now, nor will I all my life. Later my sister and I took refuge to the Hera Elementary School in Hatsukaichi-cho and stayed there until August 15th, the day the war ended.

In those days there was no decent food, so we would often eat barley, soybean soup, noodles and so on. I had diarrhea for ten days from August 9, which made me weak. I didn't receive any medical treatment, for there was neither medicine nor hospitals. Thank god, it stopped naturally.

Becoming a special, certified patient
After hearing the news that Japan surrendered on August 15, my sister and I went back together to our parents' home in Toyohira, Yamagata-gun, and stayed there until October. My second son, Teruhiro, who had been in the Navy, came back safely at the end of August after he was discharged from military service. In October, we rented a room in Midori-machi. Shortly, my son got married and three of us started a new life.

In February 1946, we could luckily move into a municipal house in Moto-machi by drawing lots. Three grandchildren were born one after another, so there was not enough space for me to relax. I was anxious about my frail physical condition, too. Around the time someone introduced me to Tomoichi Ueda (age: 75), who lived in Nagatsuka, Gion-cho, and we got married in 1960. I lived there for six years until my husband died in 1966; he died of cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 81. After that, I lived with an acquaintance in Saka-machi, doing household chores for her.

After I was A-bombed, my health deteriorated. I underwent an operation on my gall bladder in May 1952, and another operation on my large intestine in 1955 at Hiroshima Municipal Hospital. Later when I had a medical check at Funairi Hospital, I was diagnosed as anemic. On October 19, 1959, I was designated as a special, certified patient.

Before and after entering the nursing home
After my second husband died, I wanted to live with my son's family again because I had been frail and suffering from anemia after the two major operations. I asked my son to let me live together, but his answer was not favorable probably because he still had resentment about my having deserted him when he was a child. As I said earlier, it was a difficult choice but I couldn't explain why I did that. So I reluctantly moved into my relative's house in Chiyoda-cho, Yamagata-gun. But my life there was not comfortable.

At that time, an official at Chiyoda Town Office told me about this nursing home. I was glad and decided to enter this home. I became a resident at this home on June 1, 1975.

Heizo Kawai (85)

The place of my A-bomb exposure
Kanon-machi, inside the house (1.3km from the hypocenter)
Acute symptom of those days
Injury with bamboo sticks in my left eye
The loss in my family
None

My background
I was born in Katahara-cho, Takamatsu, Kagawa Prefecture as the first son to my parents, Kiyoshi and Hisa Kawai. I had one sister, much older than me in my memory. My parents lived on farming. I was a frail child and had serious illnesses twice, at the age of five and seven. Later my mother told me that it was meningitis. I could not go to school because of that, even elementary school.

Since my father died when I was four, I was taken to my married sister and raised until thirteen. Then, the sister also died. When I was going to return to my mother, I learned that she had been remarried. So, I went to Osaka, kind of a runaway. The police chief in Osaka I turned to for help introduced a barbershop for me to work as a live-in worker. I stayed there till twenty.

Since then I changed jobs many times. When I was 27, I got married to Mie Hozumi, 20, and opened my own barbershop. Finally I was settled down. Luckily my business thrived and we had two sons, Heiichi and Heiji. However, my wife’s cousin opened a barbershop right next to ours, which naturally led us to rivalry. Being emotionally unpleasant, we moved to Hiroshima when our eldest son was three, and I worked for many different barbers as an employee.

When 35, I opened my own barbershop at Nishikanon-machi and kept it going for fifteen years with no particular problems. The Pacific War increasingly intensified and our eldest son went to Okinawa as a soldier in 1945. The second son entered Manchuria Foundation College, leaving us alone with our still operating barbershop. Everything was in short supply in those days, food in particular, so we had to keep ourselves busy to get something to eat, either rice for vegetable-mixed porridge or edible grass for dumplings.

Hellish picture
August 6, 1945, it was clear from early in the morning. At 8:15 with an enormous flash and roaring sound, our house collapsed. My wife, Mie and I were buried under the rubble. A piece of bamboo in our house stuck in my left eye. Despite the severe pain, I managed to crawl out in desperation.

I rescued a pregnant woman and her child who happened to have come for haircuts. Almost all the houses in the neighborhood were also collapsed and I pulled out more than ten people out of the debris. An old man looking familiar to me was clinging to a pillar and crying for help. I went for him and I was about to escape holding him in my arms. It was when that I stepped on a nail that pierced through my foot to the instep. This tormented me for a long time. Since no medicine was available in those days, I dressed the wound only with Mercurochrome.

Caring for my painful eye and foot, I fled with my wife, holding her hand, toward the riverbed of the Fukushima River for shelter. On the way I saw a devastating picture just like a hell; those who were burned by the heat ray had their skins drooping from shoulder, a mother who couldn’t believe it was her child when a charred figure neared to cling to her crying, ‘Mom, it’s me.’

Near the Tenma-cho stop, two streetcars were sitting in which I saw five or six people who were already dead. In an air raid shelter there was somebody who was burned all over and crying for water. But I did not give him water because I knew people were saying that the burned people would die if they drank water. When I returned to see him the following morning, I found he was not breathing any more. I regretted that I hadn’t given him water. Even a sip, I wished I had given him at that time. I blamed myself for a long time.

Around noon of the 6th the area of my house was completely burned down. I could take out nothing, at all, out of my house. That evening on, I slept in the army air raid shelter near the Tenma-cho streetcar railway. Starting from the 8th, together with some soldiers I dug holes around there and buried more than thirty bodies that had been on the street. The stench was so unbearable, I was reminded of a saying, ‘the dead give off a thrusting stench.’ There were indeed many bodies floating in the river, not just humans but also cows and horses. Black rain came, because of which many people suffered from skin diseases and caught lice. You could hardly look at them straight.

My left eyesight was lost
We spent about one year in the air raid shelter after the A-bombing. Food was really hard to come by. A small amount of brown rice was rationed which we put in a bottle and poked with a stick to refine. Rice refining was a problem, indeed. Nothing to eat was the hardest part for us and we ate the roots of trees and grass. Around that time we were given onigiri or rice ball as relief food that came from the country, but they were all rotten already. I can never forget the miserable feeling of the time when we had to throw them away into the Fukushima River. Since we did not have running water for quite a while, we were using pumped water. Probably because of that my wife, Mie contracted dysentery and became very weak. Our sympathetic shelter-mates of five or so were kind enough to walk to Ujina to buy medicine. I felt deeply and very thankful.

Later my wife’s lumbago got worse. She has tried many doctors and treatments, but never been cured. I was, too, under the treatment of eye doctor for long, but eventually I lost my left eyesight.

In September 1946, we built a shack in Nishikanon-machi, the site of our former barbershop. At length we could leave the shelter life behind and managed to resume our business.

Our eldest son, Heiichi came back from Okinawa in December 1945, although he was injured on his leg and the second son, Heiji in Manchuria also came back to us at the end of 1946. Although the life was not easy, we felt blessed with the whole family reunited alive. We lived together again. We worked hard anyway under any circumstances, thanks to which our sons grew to be independent and have nice families.

In 1967, my wife and I talked and decided to sell our property, the house and land where we had lived nearly 40 years. We came to live in a rented house in Funairi-minami. As we were increasingly anxious about our old age and future, we had discussion with our sons, but they had reasons of each own for being unable to take us. We therefore went to the City Office to ask about the A-bomb nursing home.

My wife and I entered the Home
We became residents of the Home on January 16, 1974. We are given a room for a couple and we have been free from worry ever since. In case of illness, there is the Funairi Hospital in the vicinity, so we feel at ease. We are grateful that everything is well taken care of and each day we are living in gratitude. I’d like to live long with my wife, the life we never have twice.

Toshio Sugihara (83)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
In a pharmacy 1 km from home, 1.5 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days:
Nothing particularly
The dead in my family:
Totally five of my wife’s relatives; her two nieces, their two children and her
nephew, were A-bombed in Hakusima-kuken-cho, Hiroshima

My background
I was born near Tsuruhane Shrine in Osuga-cho, Hiroshima as the third son of Katsuzo Sugihara and Katsuko. I have two brothers and two sisters. My father was a teacher at an agricultural school and owned a few pieces of land in the city, so we were fairly well off. I entered Kojin Elementary School but moved to Tokyo when I was in the sixth grade. I was enrolled in Ushigome Elementary School in Edogawa. I came to live in Tokyo because my mother’s brother was running a trade business there. My oldest sister was married, also living in Ushigome Nakasato-cho, so I went to my new school from her house. After leaving elementary school, I entered Seijo Gakuen Middle School but I returned to Hiroshima when I was in the forth year because of my father’s sudden death. He was 64 years old then.

After his death, we sold our house in Osuga-cho and moved to another in Hakushima-kuken-cho that was also ours. I was nineteen. We were seven of us living together, my mother, my oldest brother, his wife and their three children and I. Then I started to work at a general store on Hon-dori, Kure, run by my father’s brother. There I worked for three years but I didn’t get along well with my uncle and came back to Hiroshima.

I got a job at the Transport Department of the Army in Ujina, Hiroshima at the age of 22 and had worked there for eighteen years until I turned 40. I got married to Hisa Tokuda (30) when I was 32 and started a new life in Hakushima-kuken-cho. We were not blessed with children. I quit the job when I was 40.

Not even a piece of bone was found
On August 6, my wife had a stomachache and was in bed. I went to buy medicine to a pharmacy about 1 km away. It was when the pharmacist was getting my medicine ready that I heard a roaring sound. I felt as if a huge bomb was dropped just a few houses away. Being a wooden structure, the pharmacy crashed. I ran outside by myself. Fortunately, I was all right. Looking around, I saw a “mushroom cloud” growing in the sky just above the present A-bomb Dome. I became so worried about my wife and our house that I hurried home. On my way home I saw ten or more people fallen down, unable to move. I also saw some of the houses near mine had caught fire.

When I reached home, I found our two-story house leaning toward north. My wife, who had lain in the six-matted room, was shocked with the A-bombing and absentmindedly kept standing. The idea of evacuation immediately came to my mind, so I, taking my wife, left home with futon (bedding) and a mosquito net on my back, and headed for the bank of the Ota River 500 meters away from our home. The riverbank was full of evacuees. We stayed up all night, then the morning came. Countless people brought themselves into the river to cool the burned bodies, then died. It was truly a misery that those bodies were floating upstream at high tide and downstream at low tide.

While my own relatives were all right, the situation of my wife’s relatives was horrible. The house where she grew up was in Yokogawa then. Her parents, brothers and sisters had already passed away and her nieces and nephew were living there. August 6 was the day when they were going to hold a memorial service for their late parents at Shingyo-ji Temple near our house. Her two nieces in their thirties, their two children and her nephew, eighteen, were waiting in the temple for the service to begin. Then the A-bomb was dropped. The temple collapsed and a fire broke out. I’m afraid that they were trapped under the debris and burned to death. Not a piece of their bones was found. Although my wife was also to attend the service, she had returned home as she remembered something. Thus she was at home when the bomb was dropped. She survived, but we shed tears for the five relatives who died. The fire spread and our house was also burnt down within the day.

Taking care of my wife for 16 years
On the morning of August 7, we left the riverbank and visited an acquaintance farmer in Hesaka-cho where our household effects had been evacuated. The farmer’s family and his property were not affected by the bombing at all. We rented one of the rooms and lived there until October in the same year. While we were there, we built a shack where our house used to stand, in Hakushima-kuken-cho. It was finished in the end of October and we “returned” to our new home from the farmer’s.

As soon as we returned, we had to face the shortage of food. From the next day I had to go out to buy something to eat. My wife and I would ask farmers for any kind of food, going to the north to Miyoshi, to the south to Nomi Island, to the east to Mukaijima, Onomichi, but they wouldn’t sell much to us. Then we, together with my close friend, went as far as to Kagawa Prefecture, where my friend’s sister lived, having been married to a farmer. Thus, we would return all the way home with tens of kilos of rice on our backs. We made a trip quite frequently, back and forth, to Kagawa for some period of time. We suffered from the food shortage a great deal. Later on, a vacant lot of about ten acres was cleared next to us, so we rented it and grew wheat, sweet potatoes, potatoes, etc. Those vegetables helped improving our food supply.

In December 1946, my wife finally became bedridden due to rheumatism that she had long been suffering from. Our three-year-old shack was already in bad shape, so we demolished it and built a “real”, four-roomed house. But eventually I had to sell off the house with land because we were impoverished by my wife’s illness. She had been in bed for 16 years and I was in debt for medical expenses such as visiting doctor fees, medicine and injections. Despite the care, she died at the age of 46 in October, 1963. I had devoted my life to taking care of her for those 16 years. After her death, I moved to an apartment, “Hakushima Apartment” in Higashi-hakushima-cho. I was finally released from the sick wife and got a job at Nakajima Ironworks in Honkawa-cho. I worked there until June 1968.

Getting Information in the paper and Entered the Home
After quitting the job at the ironworks, I worked as a money collector for a newspaper shop nearby. As I was over 70, I felt it inconvenient to live by myself. I saw an article about Hiroshima A-bomb Nursing Home in the newspaper in 1970. I gladly entered the home. I’m satisfied with my decision to move in such a nice home. I’m grateful to the staff members for their kindness and for a life without any anxiety.

Hatsuko Inoshita (79)

The place of my A-bomb exposure
Funairi-hon-machi. Inside of my house, 1.5 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptom in those days
Fracture of the left arm
Inconvenienced for two years since August 6, 1945
Headache from August 6 to 20
The dead in my family
None

My background
I was the only child to Kikuhei Inoshita and Tatsu who were farmers in Toyohira-cho, Yamagata-gun. My parents owned about 1.5-acre farmland. After graduating from Meirin Higher Elementary School, I started farming with my parents. At the age of 20, I got married to Jiro Shimokawa from Yoshisaka-mura, Yamagata-gun, but we lived in Misasa-cho, Hiroshima because my husband was working for Japan National Railways. Ten years later, we got divorced for some reasons and I came back to my parents’ home. Four months later, I was remarried to Itsuji Tanaka from Sinichi, Yae-cho, Yamagata-gun who was brought into my family registration. He was forty years old. When married, we settled in Funairi-saiwai-cho, Hiroshima. In those days, my husband was working at a military-supply factory in Yoshijima-cho and I was a housewife. In 1941, I suffered from tuberculosis and went to Hiroshima Red Cross Hospital regularly to receive treatment. About the time I got sick, my mother came to live with us for helping us out.

The situation of the time of the A-bombing
On August 6, I was at home with Mother. At the instant of the explosion I saw a flash. Coincidentally the ceiling and the roof fell down and I was trapped under the pillar and my left elbow broke. I was clearing up the breakfast table, I remember. I noticed that the fire had already broken out around the front door. My next-door woman saw me under the pillar and pulled me out shouting, “Get out quickly, or you’ll be burned.” With her help, I barely crawled out using my uninjured right hand. Then, what suddenly came to my mind was my mother, and I searched around for her, but couldn’t find.

That day my husband had gone to the meeting of the heads of the neighborhood association instead of going to work. On his way home after the meeting, he saw a flash. When he came to the corner near my house, an electric pole fell on him. Being trapped under the pole, he was seriously burned his waist down. When I saw the skins of his upper legs hanging down, I was so shocked I covered my eyes with my hands. He went into our broken house and managed to find some clothes to put on. He decided to remain in our neighborhood. I, with my neighbors, headed for Eba-machi having forgotten the neighborhood agreement that we should evacuate to Kusatsu-machi in case of emergency.

When we arrived in Eba-machi, oily black rain began to fall. We needed to escape the rain and tried to get into the air-raid shelter, but it was filled with soldiers leaving no room for us. We had no other way but to leave, and turned back to Funairi-cho. On the way I ran into my mother I had been so worried about. The flesh of the lower part of her ankle exposed, with the skin peeled toward the toes. I took her home where I joined my husband who was with other neighbors. Then, about thirty of us started to head for Koi-machi. All the bridges on the way had fallen down, so we crossed the river in a boat and contrived to reach Koi-machi. That night we all slept on the nearby melon field together.

My life after being A-bombed
The following day, August 7, we had a discussion around 7 o’clock in the morning and decided that each of us should go visit each own relative. My husband, Mother and myself decided to go to Yae-cho, Yamagata-gun. We walked to Mitaki-cho, then took a Kabe line train to Imuro and again walked to Imuro Elementary School. The school had been used as the quarters for soldiers, but we were allowed to stay there two nights. On the third morning we came across our acquaintance from Yae-cho who happened to pass nearby. Since my husband and my mother could hardly walk due to the injuries incurred in the bombing, we asked the person to get back to Yae-cho and hire a horse carriage for my husband and mother. Thus, we could get to my husband’s brother’s house in Yae-cho and stayed there.

As we could not stay there long, we needed to find a place to move in. We rented two rooms at the rear part of a big house which was owned by an elderly couple in Tokaichi, Yae-cho. The housing problem was solved now. The next problem was food, but the sister-in-law was very kind and brought us rice and barley while we were living there, three months. One month later Mother died at the age of 65. 　Then we were requested to leave by the house owner and moved to live in a back room on the second floor of the nearby inn. However, again, after a year we were told to move out. Then we rented a two-storied next door house where an old woman was living alone. We lived there for more than thirty years.

Thanks to good medical care, my husband recovered and worked for Yae Health Center for eight years. After that he switched to the job in Yae Post Office where he worked the rest of his life.

Three years after I began to live in that house, I started farming, renting a 1,000 square meter paddy field near our house and continued farming until 1975. After my husband died, I continued the farming by myself until my physical condition allowed no more. Then, I came to live on welfare. When my rented house was put up for sale, I was compelled to leave.

About the time when I entered the nursing home
Now that I needed to find a place to live in, I consulted my relatives and the people in Yae Town Office. The officials advised me to enter Hiroshima A-bomb Nursing Home and I decided to follow their advice. I entered the Home on April 26. 1978. Since then I have been enjoying the life here with gratitude. For some years after the A-bombing, every time I heard the roar of airplane, I would run and hide myself behind something. Even now the noise of roaring airplane makes me feel uneasy. One of my relatives, who has keloids all over the body, suffers from a recurring pain even now, and has to be hospitalized each time. I am afraid there’ll be no ending as long as he lives. I believe that wars should never occur again.

Momoko Okamoto (72)

The place I was exposed to:
Funairi-saiwai-cho , 1.5km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days:
Nothing
The dead among my family:
None

My background:
I was born in Kurihara-cho, Onomichi as the first daughter to my parents, Urahei Ueda and Tayo. They were farmers and had nine children. I had six elder brothers and a younger brother and sister. All the elder brothers died of illnesses in their 20’s and the younger brother also died as an infant. My younger sister lived till 42 years old.

I dropped out from Kurihara Elementary School when I was in the second grade. My father died when I was six due to illness. I worked as a live-in maid in Kurihara-cho for three years, during which period my mother was farming by herself. I quit the job and changed to work at Sanada Hat Manufacturing in Okayama. I worked there for two years, then moved to Sennan-gun, Osaka where I worked at a spinning mill for four years. Then I came back to Onomichi. For compelling reasons I started to work again as a hostess at an inn located in front of Onomichi Station.

When I was 24 I got married to Hatsuichi Okamoto, 25. In those days he was working as a musician in the movietheater and I, in a coffee shop. After the marriage we lived in Koyo-cho, Fukuyama together with my husband’s mother and a younger brother. The brother was a company employee in the City. Four years later my husband moved to Hiroshima to work as an apprentice of tin processing, because his sister’s husband was running a tin processing business in Funairi-hon-machi, Hiroshima. Some time later I was called to come to Hiroshima, where I found my husband lying in bed with pneumonia. A while later, my husband got well and went back to work.

In those days we were living in a rented house in Funairi-hon-machi. I worked for Kotobukiya. In 1939 my husband was drafted and sent as a soldier somewhere toward Singapore. I moved to Funairi-saiwai-cho and worked for Mitsubishi-affiliated Nakajima Lumber Mill.

Those who died under the potato leaves
On the morning of August 6, it was when I just got outside to the street to go for work, the Lumber Mill, with my boxed lunch in my hand, that I heard an enormous bang. I lowered myself on my belly. So did the neighbor’s wife I was talking with in the street at that moment. After a while I got myself up and found no injuries on me. But the woman, her lying position or something must have been wrong, was miserable. When she got up, the skin was drooping from her left arm.

As there had been an agreement in the neighborhood association to evacuate to Eba-yama Hill in case of emergency, I did so without delay. On arriving, I looked for something to eat in vain. I was so hungry that I went to the Yuishinji Temple in Funairi-kawaguchi-cho where I found nothing to eat, either. Then I went to the nearby potato field. Meaning to dig up potatoes, I lifted up the leaves first. There I saw a dead body. Having a closer look, I found more bodies between the ridges in the potato field or underneath the runners. I guess those victims took shelter underneath the potato leaves to cool themselves even a little. When I went back to the temple, I found a woman in labor and the people nearby were just looking doing nothing. So, I volunteered to take charge of assisting her delivery, making those onlookers help me.

I was exhausted and needed a rest very badly. So I brought myself to the A-bomb Dome whose structure had remained. The Dome, however, was full of burned people. With no other choice I went to my boss’s house in Oshiba-cho, the overseer at the Lumber Mill I was working for. I stayed there for about a week, then left for my house in Funairi-saiwai-cho as I was worried about my house.

Grass on the bank as a pillow
On my way home from Oshiba-cho, I was walking on the Aioi Bridge. I ran into a person who had owed me some money, and he returned the money to me. I reached Funairi-saiwai-cho but all the houses including mine were helplessly destroyed and I could do nothing. I went to visit an acquaintance living in Nukui, Asa-gun. It was a farming family, so I helped them with farming while I stayed there, for about three months. I had no children, so I was always alone. As for food, I did not have any serious difficulties.

I returned to Funairi-saiwai-cho. I got cigarettes from the Occupation Army with the money I had, and peddled them. About the same period of time I sold homemade rice cakes and sushi at the black market in Koi. I went as far as to Suzuhari, Asa-gun or Minochi, Saeki-gun and negotiated with farmers to sell me rice, the material to make rice cakes. I used to sleep on the grass at the bank in those days. Later when a bar, though a shuck, appeared in Funairi-saiwai-cho, I worked there.

In late 1945 my husband returned home, being repatriated, so we rented the upstairs of a cigarette shop in Funairi-hon-machi. My husband got a job at the Lumber Mill in the neighborhood. We both worked but my husband fell ill in May, l979 and was hospitalized. Despite my tender care, my husband passed away in November that year.

Being left alone, I had nobody to depend upon, nor any place to live in. Thanks to a district welfare commissioner, I could enter this nursing home. I’ve found the Home a wonderful place. Only, I have to be aware of the relationship between the residents.

Terumi Toda (81)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Nishi-hakushima-cho. Inside my rented room. 1.7km from the hypocenter.
Acute symptoms in those days:
Fever, loss of hair, purple spots all over the body.

My background
I was the first daughter to Takeo and Maki Furuyama, born on August 11, 1899 in Nukushina-cho, Aki-gun. I had four elder brothers and one younger sister.

My father was a principal at an elementary school. My childhood was not special, but a happy one. After graduating from Hiroshima Jogakuin, a girl’s school, I stayed at home helping with the housework. In 1922, when I was 22, I got married to Kosaku Toda who worked for a cotton wool company in Tenjin, China. We had two sons.

My husband died of acute pneumonia in 1928. I came back to Japan in 1928 taking my two children, 6 and 3 along with me. I studied dressmaking at a school in Osaka for three years. Then, I founded the Futaba Dressmaking School in Hiroshima. Three years later, however, for various reasons I switched to working for the Post and Telecommunication Bureau.

My older son died in the war in Northern China in 1941. Though he was enshrined as an honored, national war dead, my heart was broken to have lost my loving son I had raised with all my care.

The situation at the A-bombing
In 1945, the war increasingly intensified. In those days, I was commuting from Showa-machi to the Post and Telecommunication Bureau. It became unsafe even commuting to work, so I rented a room upstairs of Mr. Fukuda's house, which was closer to my office. I had all my family evacuated to my parents' house in Nukushina-mura.

At the time of the A-bombing on August 6, I was in my room. "A flash!" "Boon!" With a tremendous roaring sound of blast, my room upstairs began shaking heavily. The moment I ran out to the veranda, the house collapsed and I was trapped under the broken house. I lost consciousness. When I came to, it was pitch-dark around me. While struggling hard, I saw a hole made in the ceiling. I could hardly breathe because of the dusty smoke, but I managed to jump out. At the same moment I heard the roaring sound of the house collapsing.

While I was running away being hampered by countless pieces of scattered broken glass, I came across a person who was crying out, "Help!" I took the person along with me to Chojuen for shelter. After taking some rest there, I headed for the water reservoir. I carried the wounded stranger on and off my back, sometimes making her walk. In the late afternoon, finally, I could take her to the first aid station at Hesaka Elementary School where her wounds were treated. That night I stayed overnight at a farmer’s house. The following morning I went to my office and did my job as a clerical worker.

The situation after the A-bombing
About one week after the A-bombing, purple spots began to appear all over my body and my hair came off. I ran a high fever. I was hospitalized in the Post and Telecommunication Hospital. The hospital was overwhelmed with the injured and A-bomb disease patients. Because we heard that moxibustion was good to increase white corpuscles, we tried it to one another among the patients in the room.

My health condition got better in 40 days or so, and left the hospital in about 50 days. I worked for a while, after being released from the hospital, at the Post and Telecommunication Hospital. Thereafter, I also worked at various places, but my poor physical condition, because of the A-bomb aftereffects, didn’t allow me to continue long.

I was hospitalized at the Hiroshima Municipal Hospital for anemia in 1947. I was designated as a special patient of an A-bomb caused disease, granulocytopenia on December 24, 1947. After leaving the hospital, I still had to go see the doctor continuously, once a week as an outpatient. Around March in 1973, I began to have a heart attack occasionally.

Hope for abolition of nuclear weapons with all my heart
As my older son was killed in the war, I went to live with my second son's family. In his small house six members including the grandchildren lived together. There were also some other reasons, and I entered this nursing home on October 25, 1973, being recommended by a City official.

Looking back over the past years, I lost my parents, brothers and my older son; so many family members ever since the outbreak of the Pacific War. Only three are now alive: my older brother, Iwao (in Nukushina at my parents' house), my younger sister, Midori Nakagawa (in Akashi city) and myself. I felt lonely and worried about my poor health, and I spent many sleepless nights. But, ever since I entered this nursing home, I have been taken care of very well. I joined various club activities such as haiku or a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, artificial flowers, calligraphy and so on. I am very happy with my life here.

My second son, his wife and grandchildren often come and see me on holidays. They are nice and kind to me. Only, the mere thought of the A-bombing, even now, makes me feel pain physically and mentally. In the end, I’d like the people throughout the world to work for abolishing the detestable nuclear weapons at all cost.

Michi Kajikawa (74)

The place I was exposed to:
Koi-machi, inside of the Koi Post Office of 2.5km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days:
Nothing
The dead among my family:
My sister-in-law’s brother was killed by the A-bomb in Koi-cho, Hiroshima.

My background
I was born in Koi-machi, Hiroshima as the first daughter to my parents, Taro Kawakami and Tsuchi. I had one elder brother and one younger brother. When I was born, my family business was growing plants and flowers. After I graduated from Koi Elementary School, I learned Japanese kimono sewing with a teacher in my neighborhood for two years. Then, I did sewing as a job at home for about six years, and got married in spring at the age of 22. However, I was divorced in about half a year and returned to my parents’ house, where I did kimono sewing and growing flowers.

When I was 38, I got remarried to Jiro Kajikawa from Miyajima-cho, Saeki-gun. About four months later, my husband became a leader of the Koryo Manchuria Pioneer Corps and left for Manchuria, leaving me behind. So, I came back to my parents’ house. There I made a living by sewing kimono with my sister-in-law and growing flowers with my mother. Next year my first son, Tsuyoshi was born. In those days my younger brother was working for Kinki Electronic Company, and he was dispatched to Java for his new post. Left behind were women and children, six of us.

Black rain
August 6 in 1945, it was clear from the morning. That day, five of the family members were in my parents’ house in Koi, my mother, my sister-in-law and her child, my son and myself. My mother and sister-in-law were milling grain into flour to make rice-substitute food. As my nephew got in the way, my mother said to me, “Take him outside and go to the post office to send some money to the trunk family Kajikawa’s. It’s going to be their “hatsubon”. It is the money sent to a family that has lost its member over the past year as an offering for Hatsu-bon or the first bon. Bon is the time in Buddhism all the late souls come down back to the family. So I set out for the post office, carrying him on my back.

I experienced the A-bombing at the post office. The moment I put the money on the counter of the office, the bomb explosion occurred. The ceiling of the office broke down, hanging. I was surprised and lowered myself on my face with my nephew on my back. Before long the postmaster said to me, “It seems to be somehow OK, go home now.” I went out and found many people fallen down like ninepins on both sides of the road due to the A-bombing. Passing through them, I hurried home with the child on my back.

When I came home, I found my mother having been thrown to the kitchen, half of her face turned purple with bruises and injured all over her body. My sister-in-law, worrying about us, who had come to meet us half way had no injury. My son, who had been sleeping alone, was safe thanks to a man who was living with his wife upstairs. He evacuated carrying my son in his arms. My brother’s older child, a second grader, was also safe because he was evacuated from his school. All the window glass of our house was broken and the ceiling of the eight-tatami-mat room on the first floor fell down. I happened to look outside and saw the black rain was falling. It was terrible because our laundry was stained with black spots. We took them in and washed again, but the black spots would never come off. Thinking back now, I don’t think the spots ever came off, even years later. We somehow managed to make some room by clearing rubbles and slept in the house that night.

Food occupied our mind
After the A-bombing, I was absentminded for a while not knowing what to do. But pulling myself together, I started with the outside of our house, clearing the rubble together with my mother and sister-in-law. We were especially worried about many pieces of glass scattered all over, since we had small children. We picked up very carefully piece by piece by hand. It took us almost one month to clear up.

Our number one priority was food that occupied our mind all the time. Before long we changed most of our flower garden around the house into vegetable garden. We planted potatoes, kaoliang, wheat and so on. As I had no injury in the A-bombing, I cheered up myself and went far away for getting food. I visited my relatives and friends traveling as far as to Ishiuchi-mura, Saeki-gun, which was beyond Koi Mountain Pass, or Yasu-mura, Asa-gun, which was northern part. I walked and walked as far as I could for food hunting. Money was useless. I brought kimonos of my mother, my sister-in-law and myself and traded them for food such as rice and potatoes.

It was not once or twice. We were so preoccupied to raise our children in good health that we traded our kimonos for food one after another. Thus we got through those difficult days and we six people, including my sucking baby and my brother’s two growing children, were able to survive. My mother died in 1946, one year after the A-bombing.

My husband repatriated, arriving at Maizuru, Kyoto on April 25, 1953. All of my family got relieved to see him in good shape. In May, we moved to a house in Kogo, Hiroshima that was prepared for those repatriated. My husband started to work at the road construction sites, but three months later he fell down. Later he was found to have a brain tumor and continued to see the doctor for about ten years. So I worked almost every day as a laborer; the job the City had created for the unemployed. In those days on Sundays and national holidays I earned some extra money by weeding at a gardener in my town. My husband got only worse and entered the Rikita Hospital in Furuta, Hiroshima, but on January 15, 1964 he died at the age of 59. Those were the most difficult days for me to make ends meet. I had a sick husband, a growing son in elementary school. My sister-in-law was worried about us and helped us out by bringing rice, firewood etc. almost every month. I really was thankful for her kindness. My son grew up. He got a job and had a wife. At length, I felt that some light ahead of me was beginning to see after such a long, difficult period of time.

Heartache never disappears
I retired at 65, mandatory retirement age, and entered a nursing home. I went to the city office to consult and entered the Shinwaryo Town Nursing Home in Saeki-cho, Saeki-gun. One day, after a month in there, I fell down from a higher place while weeding and had bruise all over the body. This led me to enter the Hiroshima A-bomb Nursing Home. The bruise caused to develop some illnesses, and I’ve been going to the A-bomb Hospital since I entered the Home.

Living in the Home, I’m still preoccupied about my physical condition; trembling or headache might hit me again. No way that other people know my anxiety, I try to act as cheerful as possible. As to meals, I can eat only half of the portion. It occurs to me once in a while that I can’t have a joy of eating any more. Looking back the time of the A-bombing, I realize that the pains in my heart have not gone yet, although I didn’t have any visible injuries. I will never forget the terrible scene I saw on the way from the post office all my life.

Masako Yamada (70)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Koi-machi. In a streetcar, 3.0km from the hypocenter.
Acute symptoms in those days:
Nothing in particular.
The dead among my family:
My younger sister died from her head's wound.

My background
On September 1, 1910, I was born in Makihara, Yasuno-son, Yamagata-gun, Hiroshima Prefecture as a second daughter of six siblings to my parents, Yutaro Iwata and Kiku.　One of my siblings died when she was a little girl. 　The rest, a younger brother and three younger sisters, grew up.

My parents had been engaged in farming. When I was 15, my father dabbled in speculation and lost a large amount of money. He sold his land and house. Our family moved to Hiroshima City and lived in a rented house in Kanon-machi. He worked as a janitor at the Broadcasting Station, Hiroshima.

At that time, I worked as a live-in housekeeper for a Navy officer, Daisaku Kioka in Hakushima-kuken-cho for one and a half years, and for about three years at Hanadaya, a merchant house. When I was 20, I got married to a 21-year-old taxi driver, Saburo Ueoka. We had been married for six years, but were divorced because of his dissipation.

In 1937, when I was 27, I got remarried to Motojiro Yamada who was 18 years older than I. We got a live-in job at the Hiroshima office of Kozan Mitsubishi in Senda-machi. In 1945, as the war intensified, the office was closed. In May we evacuated to Dobara, Shimo Minochi-cho, Saeki-gun where our relatives lived.

The conditions of my family and myself at the time of the A-bombing
August 5, 1945, I came to Hiroshima City and stayed with my sister. On the morning of August 6, I got on a crowded streetcar at Senda-machi stop. When our streetcar came near Koi stop, I felt as if I were enveloped by an intense light. I heard a tremendous exploding sound and couldn't see anything. I felt as if my breathing had stopped.

I was carrying my daughter, Yasuko on my back, then. I ran out of the streetcar and kept running. I followed the others barefoot. However, around Takasu enemy planes came over twice, so I took refuge in the eggplant field. I wanted but gave up to ask the truck coming from behind to pick us up. There were so many wounded people, so many burned people like rags on the truck that I couldn't even mention.

Since the soles of my bare feet were burning hot, I picked up some old Japanese sandals I found nearby and wore them.

My child on my back was tired of crying and slept. I was exhausted from walking. It was nearly dark and I was at a loss. I stood at a stranger’s door in Yahata, Itsukaichi and asked for a night’s bed. He said to me, " I'll put you up tonight." I was so relieved and felt as if I had met Buddha in a hell. He also gave us little something to eat. I was thankful from the bottom of my heart.

The following day, August 7, too, from early morning I just walked and walked and in the evening I finally reached Minochi-cho. I was told that my husband, with our son on his back, entered Hiroshima City on the 6th and search for us everywhere in the flames.

My youngest sister was working at the Marine Transportation Bureau. On the morning of August 6th, she was exposed to the A-bomb in Ujina. She was injured having two holes on her head. On the 12th, she came to see me at Minochi-mura. However, she didn’t receive any adequate treatment and died on the morning of the 16th. I deeply felt sorry for her. The second youngest sister was working at the Broadcasting Station in Nagarekawa, whose building collapsed. She was buried under the debris but somehow managed to crawl out, and soaked herself in the river water behind the Sentei Garden for three hours. She then came to the place I had been evacuated. She died in Osaka in 1974 after the long sickly years, probably due to her exposure to the A-bombing.

After the end of the war, my daughter, Nobuko developed a big swelling on her back head. A lot of blood and pus came out of it. Although I took her to a doctor in the country, the doctor did nothing but just see her, because no medicine was available in those days. I was very worried. She still has a scar now.

My life after the A-bombing
After the end of the war, we came back to Hiroshima City. My husband and I took any king of job that was available. We did chores for my neighbors. We did a labor work provided by the City relief program for the unemployed. My husband gradually became weak. I asked the city officials to let him enter a nursing home for A-bomb survivors. He entered in this nursing home in 1966. I, too, became unable to work. I became hard of hearing due to the nerve damage, aftereffect of the A-bombing. Since around 1975, my left eye developed a cataract. I went to my son's house in Chiba prefecture. My son, Shin, who was working at a post office in Chiba, got divorced and his wife, taking the children with her, left him. It was hard for me to stay with my son under such circumstances. Then, I was babysitting at Yasuko's house in Kogo, Hiroshima for some time, but it was not so comfortable either because their house was small. So, I decided to enter this nursing home.

Before and after the time when I entered the nursing home
On January 17, 1978, two days after I entered this nursing home, my husband, Motojiro, died. He had been bed-ridden for a long time and despite the great care given by the nursing staff and the director of Funairi Hospital, he passed away.

Looking back now, I had a long and hard period of time. But now I’m happy, living in comfort and enjoying everyday life with gratitude. I hope these peaceful days will continue.

Motoko Sakuma (80)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Shinonome-machi. Inside of my house, 3 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days:
No injury
The dead among my family:
None

My background:
I was born in Minamitakeya-cho as the third daughter of Yosuke Kawakami and Michiko. I had three sisters, but all of them died when they were very young. I heard that Father had been running a big confectioner’s shop, but became a security for someone, which impoverished him. When I was old enough to remember, he was working as a peddler of draperies. When I was seven years old, Mother died of illness. After that Father raised me by himself.

After graduating from Takeya Higher Elementary School, I stayed home to do the housework. At the age of 20, I got married to Haruo Tada from Tokura-mura, Sera-gun, Hiroshima-ken. After I had the first daughter, Hisako, I became poor in health. Two years later I got divorced, leaving my daughter with my husband’s. Around then my father passed away, and I, in poor health, began to live alone worrying always about my daughter I had left with my ex-husband.

In November 1928, I got remarried to Yoshisaburo Sakuma from Shinonome-machi by the good offices of my acquaintance. Working at the office of the Post and Telecommunication Ministry, he was raising his 8-year-old daughter, Satoko single-handedly as his wife had died. Turning 20, Satoko got married to Toshio Tamura, who was working at the Kure Arsenal. She was leading a happy life with her three children, Shoko, Kiyoko and Hiroyuki. In the meantime the Pacific War was only intensifying, and I was busy every day getting involved in the neighborhood association business.

The Situation in the A-bombing
On August 6, 1945, the day the A-bomb was dropped, I was living near the ordnance depot, where currently the Hiroshima University Hospital is located. My daughter was living in Kure City. When American bombers dropped bombs intensively on Kure in July, my daughter ran around in the fire taking her children along with her despite her physical condition; shortly before she had delivered a baby. It ruined her health. So, she had come to stay with us in Hiroshima for recuperation. I was busy looking after my three grandchildren, while working as a chief of the neighborhood association and doing volunteer labor service at the ordnance depot.

On August 5, I went for labor service of dismantling buildings. As I worked too hard, I ran a fever, 38 degrees that night. I was supposed to go to work the next day too, but I couldn’t get up because the fever remained high. I would say that I was lucky to be able to escape death due to the fever. My husband was also lucky to have escaped death. (After the mandatory retirement from the public office, he was working at Shudo Middle School, and he left home a little later than usual that morning.) At 8:15 the house was violently shaken. Broken roof tiles and blackened clods of earth as well as soot fell down from the ceiling. I couldn’t open my eyes. My head and back were hit with rubble, but I quickly held Hiroyuki in my arms, trying hard to keep the newly-born infant from injuring. Though I tried to get out of the house, I could not move even a step with the baby in my arms. The fragments of glass were scattered all over. Just then my husband returned shedding blood from his forehead, and took the baby from my arms. I was blood-covered with a lot of injuries though I didn’t notice then.

After a while many people who had been bombed came to be seen fleeing, with their skins hanging from all over their bodies. Their skins looked as if they had burst out. I realized something serious had happened. My daughter was safe and not injured as she was in the bathroom. Our five and three year-old grandchildren, who were playing outside, were both unharmed thanks to the neighbors who took them into the air raid shelter. Before noon many of our relatives and acquaintances including my husband’s sister, cousin and his wife evacuated to our house and we took care of them, but regrettably some of them died.

That night we set up a makeshift bedroom in the field by standing four poles and covering around them with mosquito net, for fear of enemy planes coming over. The children and sick people slept in it. The next day we were told to come to the police box near the Taisho Bridge and receive the relief food, rice balls. The woman in charge was too afraid to go out. Since I was responsible as the neighborhood association chief, I asked a man, who was single, to do the job in her place. The man said, “I’d regret nothing if I die.” Willingly he came with me for receiving the rice balls. The road was filled with rubble and it was not easy to walk. We could finally distribute the rice balls or onigiri to everybody there. It wasn’t until I had been to the police box that I found the whole city completely burned out, which greatly shocked me.

My husband searched around for our relatives and the missing neighbors every day and was seldom at home. As it was difficult to treat many people at our house, I took them to a nearby elementary school, where I saw a lot of people nearly dead lying not only on the playground but also in the hallways and the classrooms. Some were dying without receiving any treatment. People were digging holes in the field and cremating the dead bodies there. I heard agonizing cries and observed an inferno before my eyes. I could hardly believe that those were the happenings in this real world.

The life after the bombing
After the bombing we had no food, water and electric light. I had to take care of our relatives who were bombed out, my sick daughter and her infant baby who was always crying for milk. I often felt like dying, indeed. Finally we were able to get water from the tap and electric light. When we could eat pure white rice that we had traded with our treasured kimono, I was glad that I survived.

My daughter, Satoko had been in poor health and died in 1947 leaving her three children behind. I was 47 and Hiroyuki was only one year old then. We raised him until he graduated from junior high school.

About the time when I entered the nursing home
My husband passed away in 1965. Hiroshi got the job in Osaka and I was left alone. Before my husband died, we had repeatedly been told by our landlord to empty his house because he wanted to rebuild the house. But my husband had earnestly asked the landlord to let us stay there. Now that he was gone, I had to meet the landlord’s request. I rented an apartment house and started my new life, depending on something I earned as well as the widow’s pension. Though I was poor, I was happy being able to enjoy freedom and easiness for the first time in my life.

Ten years later, I was compelled to move due to the municipal redevelopment project of Danbara Area. I tried to find another apartment house to live in, but it wasn’t easy since I was an old woman with no family. Then the chief of the neighborhood association suggested that I enter a nursing home, and made a necessary arrangement. In the nursing home, I had some difficulties and felt sad at times in the beginning. Five years have passed and I got used to the life here. I’ve joined various club activities such as handicraft, calligraphy, tea ceremony and dancing. My roommates and the staff here are all very kind to me, so l am just happy and grateful for the life free from worries.

Every time I think of those victimized by the A-bombing, I cannot help feeling sorry for them. Thirty-five years have passed since that day, but I can never forget those agonizing scenes. I wish I could have described the atrocity and horror of the A-bombing better. I sincerely hope that this peaceful time would last.

Tsutayo Yamaoka (77)

The place of my A-bomb exposure
Ujina , inside of the Shipping Headquarters (3.5km from the hypocenter)
Acute symptom in those days
Injury on the head
The loss in my family
None

My background
I was born as the first daughter to my parents, Kohei and Chiyono Yamaoka in Oasa-cho, Yamagata-gun on October 20, 1902. I have one younger sister. My parents were living on farming but my father died when I was 12.

I graduated from the local, higher elementary school in 1923. At the age of 20 I got married to Yoshinobu Ishiya and had a son, Toshio. Since my husband and I both were the eldest child to each family, our marriage had not been registered. Therefore, my son, Toshio was in his father’s registry. My husband was running a gas station in Misasa after we got married, but contracted typhoid and died in the Funairi Hospital in 1938. After that I attended Futaba Dressmaking School in Nagarekawa for about one and half years. I lived on sewing at home, sharing the house with my sister and her husband.

The situation at the time of the A-bombing
Around 1945, I was working at the sewing section of the Akatsuki Unit in Ujina. On August 6, I went to work early in the morning. I was sewing an officer’s uniform at the Shipping Headquarters when the A-bomb was dropped. I had injuries on my head with the fragments of window glass and unconscious for some time. So I don’t remember much of those moments. When I came to, I found my face and head covered with blood. As the bleeding didn’t stop, my colleagues took me to the Ujina Army Hospital. The hospital was packed with the injured. They were brought in on a truck from the downtown and those seriously burned looked like rags. Many of those were being left outside the building. I wasn’t given any better treatment than dressing with Mercurochrome since medicine was not available in the Hospital.

At noon, we received an order to go home. It took me two hours to get home, normally only 15 minutes, because enemy planes flew over so frequently I had to take shelter each time. On the way what I saw were; people whose flesh was drooping as if rags, the dead bodies burned looking like charcoal and people with their head thrusting in the water of fire cistern. I could not believe it was something that happened in this world. Our house was half-destroyed and no good to live in any more. We discussed, and evacuated to the countryside on August 9, counting on a relative of my sister’s husband in Daiwa-cho, Kamo-gun. My head injury healed in the meanwhile.

The life after the A-bombing
In 1958, I returned to Hiroshima and worked for a cotton factory in Danbara-hinode-machi for about three years, but went back to the countryside again. That’s because I fainted so frequently, and when happened, I remained unconscious for 10 to 15 minutes. It may have had something to do with the A-bomb exposure. When my niece entered a girl’s school in Hiroshima, however, she and I together came to live in Hiroshima again renting a house in Danbara-yamasaki-cho. I worked as a janitor at Danbara Junior High School for about six years. Then I returned to the countryside once again.

As for my son, Toshio, he was in the Junior Airforce in Shiga Prefecture when the war ended. Being demobilized, he got a job at Hiroshima Glass Co. and worked there for a long time. Currently he is working for a machinery factory. He and his family live in Yoshijima-konan-cho and my grandchild has grown. She is in the second year of a girl’s school.

Around the time of my entering the Home
Since around 1971, I was living with my sister and her husband in Daiwa-cho, but I was getting old and weaker. I went regularly to the Hiroshima Red Cross Hospital for the treatment of my cirrhosis and chronic heart failure. My nephew then suggested an A-bomb nursing home for me and I made up my mind.

I became a resident of the Home in July 1979. Ever since, I have been free from worry and satisfied with everything. I’m glad that I made this decision. There is the Funairi Hospital next to the Home, so it is easy to go and see a doctor. Things can’t be better. My son and grandchild often come and see me. I am just having happy days in the Home, wishing it would last to my last day.

Chitose Uemura (74)

The place of my A-bomb exposure
Kusatsu-higashi-machi, outside the house, 4.1 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days
Injury on my hands caused by fragmented glasses
The dead in my family
My daughter’s husband who belonged to the 2nd Platoon died in the A-bombing.

My background
I was born in Kibi-gun, Okayama prefecture as the second daughter to my parents, Kensuke Hagiwara and Sumi. I had two brothers and five sisters. Still alive now are my elder sister and younger sister who live in Okayama prefecture and I. The rest of my brothers and sisters have already passed away.

My father was working at the town office. When I was twelve years old, I was adopted to my aunt’s family, the Yoshida, for some complicated reasons. Later the relationship became rough between my own family and my aunt’s, so I felt uncomfortable at her house and deserted. Then, I worked for about five years as a live-in salesgirl in Sakai-machi, Hiroshima.

When I was 19, I got married to Jun Tanabe. About one year later, I was divorced taking my daughter, Yukiko with me. I had a hard time in raising Yukiko single-handedly. 　When Yukiko grew up and got married to Mamoru Yokogawa, I was so happy and felt my long time efforts were rewarded.

As I was left alone, I was remarried to Eiichi Uemura in 1943, who was running a kamaboko (boiled fish paste) factory. He was a very difficult man, a kind of drunkard, so I had to go through many difficulties. I attempted to kill myself twice, but I was saved thanks to the faith in Christianity. I looked so worn out that my friends said, “Your face is made of wrinkles”.

The situation at the time of the A-bombing
In January 1945, my husband was drafted to the navy and stationed in Kure. When the A-bomb was dropped, my daughter, who happened to be staying at my home, and I were exposed to the A-bomb at the entrance of my house. With a deafening roaring sound, about 80 % of my house were broken by the fierce blast. I had a few cuts on my hands caused by shattered pieces of glass. My daughter and I were absentminded for a while. Soon, people with burns and injuries began to return, having been worn to rags. Fortunately, my daughter, Yukiko was safe. When we were helpless and hopeless with our wrecked house, my husband came back from Kure taking a three-day-leave. It was impossible to sleep in our house that night, so we took refuge with Kaidoji Temple in the mountain of Kusatsu.

The following day, my husband, my daughter and I headed for the 2nd Platoon in Motomachi to search for my daughter’s husband. Getting around Tenma-cho, we saw an unbearably hideous scene. People’s faces were awfully changed and unrecognizable, and a half-burned horse was still smoldering. All the streets were blocked off with the dead bodies, so we couldn’t go any farther. The stench of the bodies was so terrible that we felt sick and turned around. Later we were told that Mamoru was instantly killed in the A-bombing at his station on Aug. 6. We later received his ashes from the army.

The life after the A-bombing
As my son-in-law, Mamoru died in the bombing, Yukiko, who had no children, came back to our home and my husband was demobilized from the army. We made a living by resuming our business, making boiled fish paste, which had been suspended for a while because of material shortage. After a while, Yukiko was remarried to Hiroshi Murayama and had two children, Chieko and Shunsuke. Then they moved to Yokohama when Hiroshi was transferred there. After my husband died of heart attack in 1955, I was employed and worked for a boiled fish paste factory from the age 40 to 51. After quitting the job, I did not have any regular job for about 9 years because of my feeble physical condition caused by the A-bombing. To make a living, other than my husband’s pension, I had our factory remodeled to rooms for rent. When about 60, my health condition improved, so I worked as a scrubwoman at the main office of Hiroshima Bank until I became 64.

After my daughter, Yukiko died of lung cancer in a hospital in Yokohama, I became pessimistic with no hope and had nothing to live for. Although I had two sisters in Okayama, my son-in-law, Hiroshi and two grandchildren, I didn’t feel like depending on any of them. I was not in good shape and leading a lonely life.

The long, hard days
Around 1973, I stopped working and I was worried very much about my future. Although I had supported my son-in-law and grandchildren financially, I somehow didn’t get along with them. My sisters were too old to depend on. When I was feeling solitude under these circumstances, I heard about the A-bomb Nursing Home. I made up my mind, and went to the City Office to apply for admission. I sold my house to the landowner for next to nothing.

I became a resident of the Home in June 1979. In the beginning, I had some difficulties getting along with the residents. But lately, I even think why I didn’t enter the Home earlier, looking back my long, painful days after the A-bombing. Now I am hoping that I would live in good shape as long as I could. I am so grateful and content with the life at the Home.

Kinue Yasuda (79)

The place of my A-bomb exposure
Niho-machi, inside the house, 5km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days
No injury
Diarrhea for one month from August 10
Vomiting for two months from August 15
Losing hair from the middle of November and becoming bald two months later
The dead in my family
My first daughter A-bombed to death in Niho-machi, Hiroshima
Rheumatic arthritis

My background
I was born in Mikoto-son, Hiba-gun as a second daughter to Torazo Yasuda and Kumi. My father died of heart failure at the age of 48 when I was nine and my mother died of acute pneumonia at age 37 when I was seven.

When I lost both parents, I was taken and raised by my uncle and aunt. My five-year-older sister, Shigeko was left with the grandfather, Ahei Yasuda’s custody, but she left his house some years later and got married to a man she fell in love. I completed Oya Elementary School, Mikoto-son. We had little contact with each other, and I learned that she died at the age of 60 in 1955 in Wakamatsu, Kitakyushu and that she didn’t have any children.

By arrangement I got married to Eizaburo Miyata of the same village when I was 20 and took over my family name, Yasuda, which my elder sister should have. We had a son and a daughter. But my husband died of myusitis at age 39, with only a few days in bed. When he died, my son, Nobuo was in the fifth grade and daughter, Chie, in the first grade. I left my daughter to the care of my late husband’s family and went to Miyoshi to work, taking only my son along with me. I worked at the paper plant and even at a railway construction site for a living.

Meanwhile, my son finished school and grew up to work as a lathe man at Toyo Kogyo Co. But after receiving a physical check for the military, he was drafted in the army and sent to the warfront in the Middle China. Yachie came to live with me after completing the higher elementary school. She worked at Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Experiment Station in Hakushima-cho and I started working as a housemother at the training school of National Railways in Osuga-cho in May 1943.

”You’re late, Mom.”
On August 6, I was at home, Aosaki, Niho-machi. I saw a flash at the moment I opened the door. I was to go outside since the preliminary alert was cleared. As the flash was razor-sharp, chilling, I asked my neighbor, “What was that?” “It might be a murder beam,” he said.

I became dizzy and felt sick, so for a while I crouched down on the tatami floor that was filled with scattered glass fragments. All of a sudden, the thought of my daughter flashed across and occupied my mind. I headed for Toyo Kogyo Co. In front of the company I saw a huge crowd whose appearances were beyond description. I saw somebody trailing something with noise. I wondered what it was. Astonishingly, the noise came from her dangling skins, having peeled off all over her body. When she said, “Mom, mom”, I wondered if she was my daughter. But she was not. I was afraid if Yachie had become like her, and headed for Hiroshima Station putting my air-raid-hood on. But the spreading fire kept me from reaching the station. I frantically searched for her in vain. I gave up reluctantly. “She might be back home.” Wondering if we had missed each other somewhere, I hurried home. But she wasn’t there.

On the morning of August 7, I heard someone shouting, “Where is the Yasuda’s?” It was Mr. Ishido, a coworker of my daughter in the same office. “Come along to the bank of the Ota River with her kimono. She was lain there.” At the news, I ran with a stretcher, together with Mr. Ishido and two neighbors. It was around 8 o’clock in the morning. At length, I found my daughter among a large number of casualties. That morning she had left home for work in a blouse and work pants. Now, her whole body was swollen and the skins were peeled off, even of her face. I could hardly recognize her, except for her voice. “You’re late, mom” was her first words.

It was impossible to dress her, though almost naked, so I spread the kimono over her body and carried her home on a stretcher. On the way home she said, “Mom, I want some water.” I soaked a towel in a big fire-prevention tank in front of Hiroshima Station and got her to drink. Many corpses floated in the tank. We reached home around one o’clock in the afternoon. She didn’t talk much. “ I wondered if you had been dead,” said Yachie. Her body stank and maggots were creeping here and there. I picked them up. “Mom, I want water,” she said under her faint breath. But I didn’t give her any because I had heard that she would run a fever and then die if she drank water. I kept holding her for nine hours, then she died at ten o’clock. She was 22 years old. Even now, 35 years later, I cannot help blaming myself for not giving water when she badly wanted, and her voice is still lingering in my ears. Only, I comfort myself by recalling that I gave her some from the water tank once on the way home.

On August 8, she was cremated in the schoolyard of Aosaki Elementary School along with lots of other A-bombed victims. I went back to my hometown with her ashes on the 15th of that month. As for food in those days, we were eating porridge cooked with the rationed foreign rice, and horseweed as a vegetable substitute. Because of the shortage of rationed salt, I would often go and scoop salty seawater at the seashore of Mukainada.

My demobilized son killed himself
Fortunately I didn’t have any injury but I had diarrhea for one month from August 10 and vomiting for about two months from August 15. I also became weary, and had little appetite. I was always a little feverish. I started losing my hair in the middle of November and then became completely bald in two months. I turbaned a towel over my head but I didn’t get any medical treatment. I had no job and had to sell things in order to live after the A-bombing. Then, my son was demobilized and returned home from the middle of China on February 28, 1946. He wore a large mask, put a hat deeply on, and carried big luggage of a blanket, etc. on his back. I wondered why, about his appearance, so asked him. He replied, “I wanted to die in the battle field. I’m ashamed of being home alive, so don’t want to be seen by people.” For me, his return was more than a joy. He was really sorry to hear about his sister’s death, but felt ashamed about his safe repatriation while a lot of his comrades had died in the war. He blamed himself for his survival.

My son killed himself by jumping into the railroad on September 23, 1946 leaving a note behind. I think, he couldn’t stand seeing me struggling for a living and everything. Indeed, it was difficult about everything, in particular food in those days. He was said to have been mentally unstable, though. He died so young, at the age of 26, leaving me alone. I feel so sorry for him that I didn’t realize his agony. As a mother, I regret that I couldn’t do anything for him.

I was baptized at a protestant church in 1948 out of sheer desire to be saved by God from my solitude and anguish. The following year, by the recommendation of the pastor, I started working as a helper, touring the houses of Christian followers in Kobe. I stayed in the dormitory of a protestant school. Then, my physical condition became no good, and I started living on welfare around 1965 in a rented apartment. But being diagnosed as breast cancer, I underwent an operation in October 1968. Having recovered, I lived in Kobe until 1973. Since I heard of this home from the president of Kobe A-bomb Survivors Association, I returned to Hiroshima in August 1973.

Hope for living
I entered the Home on September 8, 1973. I was grateful to the staff members of the home for their kindness and to the well-equipped facilities.

When I decided to enter the Home, I thought all the residents were alone with no family. But after a while here, I learned that many of them were not so. The discovery was a shock to me. It’s only me who had no family and no place to return to. I shed tears every day feeling isolated. I couldn’t do anything but praying to God. I needed time, and great effort to become what I am now.

I heard about some suicides here, and I felt rather envious for those who could do so. At such moments, I read the Bible repeatedly. I told myself to treasure my life, and lived to this day. After entering the Home, too, the scars on my body become feverish a couple of times a year. The agony each time that recurs is beyond description. In the meantime, I appeared on TV twice, and letters were sent to me from all over, even from abroad. I feel encouraged. Gradually I have been changed to have hope for living. Now I’m thankful every day, from the bottom of my heart.

Masako Kojima (60)

The place of my A-bomb exposure:
Kaminobori-cho, 1.1 km from the hypocenter
Acute symptoms in those days:
No injury. Only a irregular menstruation.
The dead among my family
Father Kinzo Kaya and Mother Masako, both A-bombed.

My background:
I was born as the youngest child of the three to my parents, Kinzo and Masako Kaya. Father was making geta (Japanese wooden sandals) in Hirose-moto-machi. After completing the Higher Honkawa Elementary School, I did housework to help my parents, and then got married to Tsune Kojima on October 2, 1943.

As the Greater East Asia War broadened, American bombers made increasingly fierce air attacks day after day. We were living a hard life in tense fear. My husband and I were living in Kaminobori-cho. The company my husband was working for was producing weapons. He worked hard as a foreman in the department of gun barrel casting in Nihon Seikosho(Japan Steel Co.). He worked on August 5, and the next day was off. So, he was at home on the 6th.

Couldn’t be at their bedsides when my parents died
At 8 o’clock an air-raid alert was issued, but in ten minutes it was lifted. So, my husband was taking care of his fishing equipment while I was picking up the room before the chest of drawers. At 8:15 a sudden bright flash engulfed us. With a terrific crash, the pillars, the walls, the fittings and the windows were all wrecked. The sliding doors and the furniture were all blown and shattered by the blast. We were trapped under them. Calling out each other’s name, we finally got out of the house and fled to Shukkeien garden to seek shelter. Thirty minutes later a tornado occurred and hailed. Shortly after that, I saw an enemy scout plane coming, which scared me to death.

On August 8, I went to the Hiroshima branch office of Nihon Kangyo Bank in Shimonagarekawa-cho to receive a disaster certificate, where I was given two packages of crackers. On my way home from Hacchobori area, I saw piles of dead bodies along both sides of the street and a lot of dead people with their heads shoved into the fire cisterns. It was indeed a terribly miserable scene. I could’nt help shedding tears.

The flames had overtaken our collapsed house. The entire neighborhood had been burnt out leaving not a single structure. My husband and I decided, anyway, to visit the house my brother’s wife was from, Yagi-mura, Asa-gun seeking for safety. Crossing the Misasa Bridge and walking northward from Yokogawa Station, we reached the house. There, we were told that my parents’ house was burned out, that Father was trapped under the house, and that Mother was badly injured on her head and body inside a streetcar near the Dobashi Bridge. We were surprised but didn’t know what to do, so we stayed there overnight.

On the following day we visited my husband’s brother in Mukaibara-cho, Takata-gun and decided to stay with his family for some time. To my grief, Mother died on August 17 and Father, on September 1, both in agony. It’s deeply regrettable that I could not be at their bedsides when they died.

Encouraging myself to live with hope