WRITTEN MONUMENT(English)

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
In March, 1947, I had a pain in my ribs, so I went to see Dr. Nakayama. I was diagnosed as spinal caries. While I was taking care of myself at home, my condition became worse as no medicine was available in those days.

In February, 1966, my husband had an accident at work, canning factory in Shinonome-cho. He was hit hard on his abdomen and had the internal bleeding, due to the motor accident. He was sent to the hospital, and I attended him at his bedside. In the meantime my caries recurred and I was also hospitalized in the same Imanaka Hospital in ltsukaich-cho. His injury getting better, my husband took care of me. However, probably because of fatigue, he died of vesicular emphysema in April, 1972, worrying about my condition. I totally lost what I live for, but I’m trying to encourage myself to live positively.

In 1973, I entered this home thanks to the arrangement by the welfare office. Now, I am happy in this home, and living with gratitude to the staff members and residents for their kindness.