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A-Bomb Survivor's Story

"My Hiroshima" by Murakami, Keiko

I was born in Hiroshima City in 1937.
In those days Japan was trying to take the initiative in Asia to establish the empire under the leadership of Tenno (Emperor), the god. The Japanese people believed in Tenno.
Wives and mothers were willing to send their husbands and sons to the battlefields when notices came from the government ordering them to report for military services.
Children were asked, What would you like to become when you grow up?
Boys answered, I want to be a soldier. Girls answered, I want to be a nurse.
From the time they were very young, they were asked the same question again and again by adults, and their minds were totally controlled.

December 8, 1941 was the day when The Japanese army attacked Pearl Harbor. After that, all Japanese people were to live under the system supporting the Emperors military forces, forced to give up all sorts of comforts (extravagances, small and large).
My father said, The war against the USA has begun. Japan I sure to win because this is just a war. We must be grateful to the soldiers since they are fighting for the Emperor. Let us be patient and endure this hard life. My mother nodded.

In the spring of 1942. I entered kindergarten, but I was not happy there. We had to sing and dance in order to cheer up the soldiers, and we had to send our origami and paintings to those who were to be sent to the battlefields.
Clothing and food were rationed. We all watched each other saying I will not want anything until we win, or Comfort is our enemy.
In the spring of 1943. I entered a public elementary school which was located on the north side of Hiroshima Castle, 1.2 kilometres from the spot where the Atomic Bomb was dropped. Nearby was a large number of troops, said to be the heart of the Japanese army. The town was filled with soldiers and war horses.
In those days many places in Japan were being bombed, but Hiroshima had not yet been targeted. We expected, however, that someday the city would be attacked severely. It was advised that older people, women and children be evacuated. Children who did not have relatives were evacuated with their teachers to local villages, where they lived in some old temples.

At the beginning of 1944. My father was working for the city office. He was secretary-general of the volunteer army headquarters. In case of need, his position was to lead the citizens. His family concerns were a private thing, which should rank after public matters. Father decided to stay on in Hiroshima, living in a hotel at the centre of the city.
My 38 year old mother, who was pregnant, my three year old brother and myself, then eight years old, went to live in my fathers birthplace which was located in the northern part of Hiroshima prefecture. The families of my fathers sisters also were there to get away from the dangers of the city.
My grandfather was a carpenter specialising on the building and repair of shrines, and did not have much land for growing vegetables, so there was very little food to share among so many relatives. We needed a good deal of patience to live together. It was especially hard for my mother. She decided to go back to the city saying, We may have bombs dropping on us, but it will be much better for the family to be together. We came back to Hiroshima at the beginning of May, and on June 11 my sister was born.
We heard the news of air raids in Tokyo, Yokohama, Osaka, Kobe and also news about the tragedy of Okinawa. There were very few children remaining in the city of Hiroshima. School buildings were confiscated for the use of the army. Children were studying in temples, with study hours getting shorter and shorter. Everyday we took part in air raid drills, collected used tealeaves for feeding the horses, cut grass to feed people (food was always insufficient), and picked up horse manure for fuel.

There was no summer vacation during the war.
It was a very hot day on August 6, 1945.
There was an air raid the night before, so everybody had to stay in shelters; nobody had a good sleep. That morning my father stayed home later than usual, and my mother was preparing breakfast. I casually said to my father that I did not want to go to school on that day. He was a very strict man, but strangely he gave me permission to cut classes. So I was inside, reading a magazine with my brother.
Suddenly father yelled from the yard, I hear the plane! My brother and I rushed outside. Father shouted Watch out! Its not the sound of a Japanese plane. Go into the shelter! My brother and I jumped into the underground shelter.
The next instant, I felt a shock all over my body. At the same time, father jumped in with us. The three of us were buried under the collapsing house. I could see a tiny piece of sky form underneath the debris. My brother and I clung to my fathers waist, and we crawled out. Because my father was one second too late getting into the shelter, so he was badly wounded on the left side of his body. He tore a piece from my clothes and bound the wound tightly to stop the bleeding.
All the neighbouring houses were damaged. There was nothing left standing.
We yelled for my mother. Soon the heap of rubble moved, and she appeared with my baby sister in her arms. Many pieces of glass were stuck all over her body. Her right eyeball was out and drooped around her breast like a lump of blood. My father took off my mothers obi (waist sash), and used it to tie my sister on my back.
He held onto my mother and we started walking. We walked to the river about 300 metres away; during that time we saw nobody. It was dead silent as if we were the only ones left in the world.
Because we acted quickly, we seemed to be the first to come to the riverside. Father had my mother lie down in the shade of a bush. Before long wounded people were all around us people badly hurt, people with their flesh melting and drooping because of the burns. They were all crying and yelling. Their faces were so damaged by the heat of the blast that nobody could recognise anyone else. Probably it was only my brother and I who had no apparent injuries.
With water from the river, my father roughly washed my sister who was covered with my mothers blood. Thank God, she started breathing again. We thought she had suffocated. Father was wild with joy. But my mothers milk had stopped. When he dipped a piece of cloth into the water and tried to get my sister suckle it, she just cried in a feeble voice. Something had to be done.
Then father found a woman who was squeezing the milk from her own breasts; he begged her to give her milk to my sister. She said, My milk belongs to my child, who just passed away. I shall never give it to strangers. Father kneeled down on the ground and begged her again and again. Dying people around them also raised their voices saying, Your dead baby will never come back, but you can save this living baby. Please give your milk to her. Finally, the woman collecting herself, offered to do just that, and my sister was saved.
On our side there was a well about 2 metres across. Wounded people peeped down into it. Having no means of scooping out the water, they ended up jumping into the well one after another, until it became a heap of people. Many died of suffocation. Some were still alive, but could not move because of the many dead people on top of them. Within the same day, we were infested with maggots. They were creeping about not only on dead bodies, but also in living peoples wounds.
There was a bad smell all over the place.

Father had a responsibility to help other citizens, and he tried to go to the office to grasp the situation. Fires had started here and there; the river was filled with people and animals and furniture. Many people were gathering at the river to get water, so it was impossible for him to cross the river. Father gave up going to the office and decided to help the people around him. He announced that rescue would soon come, asked them to be patient, and tried to prevent rioting and plundering.

We could not fill our stomachs. I tried to eat cucumbers and eggplants which grew on the riverside, but spewed them out on the spot. After many years, I learned that those who ate them at that time died because of the radiation effects on the vegetables.
Soon, night fell. I could not sleep at all and kept watching the blazing flames. Towards daybreak the fires were under control, but it was a morning of unearthly quiet.
Mountain folds on the other side of the river showed no damage. My fathers colleague lived in that area, so we thought if we could get there, somehow we would be safe.

Father went back to the place where our house had been, and dug through the runs left by the fire, finding a bottle of some pickled scallions and plums. On a piece of unburned wood, he wrote, The Murakami family are all alive. I am staying at the house of my colleague. He left the sign there so that anybody coming to search for us could see it.
My sister was fed by the woman once more. Father gave her the bottle of scallions and plums as a token of gratitude. I wonder what happened to her after she ate them, because Im afraid that the pickles also had been affected by the radiation. After many years when things were setting down, we tried very hard to inquire after her, but in vain. We always remember her with agony, wondering if those pickles had taken her life.
I carried my sister on my back and took the arm of my brother. Father carried Mother on his back. Under a scorching sun, we started walking through the burnt out area with bare feet. The bottoms of our feet got burned and our skin stuck to the soil. Our pace was very slow. Always there was an emergency siren sounding.
Mother seems very ill. I have to hurry on. Keiko, you come later. Father said to me. He put Mother into a baby carriage left on the road and started to run. I felt helpless but kept walking, trying very hard to protect my sister and brother.
The house we reached was full of people who had fled from the city. Father managed to find a space for Mother to lie down among those who were fatally injured.
My brother and I had no place because we had no injury. We kept standing, with our backs against the wall.
In the evening of that day, we had the first meal after the bomb. It was a ball of boiled water with a few pieces of vegetables and some grain. I dipped a piece of cloth in the soup and had my sister suckle it. The next day, Fathers colleague got some skim milk from somewhere. Father melted the milk powder with a lantern and fed my sister, but my brother and I had nothing more to eat.

My grandfather and uncle saw the notice on the ruins of our house, and came looking for us. They explained, Its said that a special bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.
Father had to stay to help the people. Mother was seriously injured, and my sister had to be with her. So, it was decided that my grandfather and uncle would take my brother and me to my grandfathers place.
Very early next morning we started walking. My brother and I had no clothes on and walked with our bare feet. We made a desperate effort to get through the area that had been burned out. I can still vividly remember what I saw that day.
The familiar sights were all gone. The burned out area went as far as my eyes could see. The water pipes were broken everywhere. Around those places, many dead bodies were piled on top of each other, with lots of maggots on them. In hunger and thrust, they had come to at least have some water, and died. Under the crushed houses there were half burned bodies. Even with great effort not to step on the bodies, I did so many times. This memory is the one I shall have to carry all through my life. Even now, after more than 50 years, the soles of my feet ache when summer comes.
In the evening, we arrived at my aunts house, which was about 10 kilometres north from the city centre. But it was full of victims, so one of the neighbours kindly let us stay one night. The next morning we started very early to avoid the heat of the sun. Many people were walking, fleeing to the mountain area, and there was a long queue of victims on the street. Some women were giving these people rice balls wrapped in bamboo leaves. One rice ball for one person, they said. I received two rice balls for my brother and me, but I had to carry one in each hand. One of the women hugged my shoulders saying, Keep going.
My brother and I wanted to eat the rice ball right there, but my grandfather spoke to us severely, Wait until we go much father, because we will have to go very, very far. It was really difficult to keep walking on the rough road with two rice balls in my hands. It was unbearably hot. After a long walk, we finally rested to eat the rice balls. Alas! The soybeans in the rice balls had become fermented and badly spoiled. Grandfather told us to drink water instead from the well of a nearby farmhouse. We drank some water and had to keep going with empty stomachs.
I dont remember very well what happened after that, but we managed to walk for more than 50 kilometres, sometimes along the ridge of a cliff and other times through winding ravine, finally arriving at Grandfathers house at the end of the day. Already the family of my fathers sister had arrived, having fled from the city like us.

Grandfather, as a shrine carpenter, had only a small piece of farmland. All the neighbouring farmers had their own relatives to support, so it was hard for us to get enough food. My brother and I were lonely without our parents, and we were always hungry. I had hard times to comfort my brother.

One day in early fall, suddenly I had a severe stomach-ache. There was blood in my urine and faeces. I shook all over with a high fever. The only doctor in town said, It is dysentery. She must be kept in isolation. I was put in a dark storehouse. My hungry brother was crying outside, but I was forbidden by my grandmother and aunt from sharing my food with him. I was desperate.
After several days, my cousin, who was two years younger than I, got sick. The doctor said the same thing about her illness; she died right after that. My aunt said, Keiko gave her the disease! She came to my bedside and kicked and hit me. With a high fever I could put up no resistance. She continued to do this. One day Grandmother found out about her violence toward me. Keiko is my dear granddaughter, she said. Whoever ill treats her must get out of my house!
Then my aunt left the house and never returned. After the war, more than 20 years later, I met her, but we could not make peace.
I did not receive any medical treatment, but just lay down for a month, and became a little better, but before I knew it, pus began oozing out of my ears, giving off a bad smell. The doctor said that it was because I was not keeping myself clean. So I took extra care to wash myself and wipe off the pus, but there was no sign of getting well. Somebody told me to apply the sap of the firewood, and I tried that, but my condition got worse.
It was not reasonable that the doctors at that time diagnosed my illness as dysentery, since they had no knowledge about the A-Bomb. They didnt know until long afterwards that I was suffering from the after-effects of radioactivity.

Here, let me tell about my parents and my sister.
After my brother and I went to grandfathers place, many temporary accommodations were built, and rescue activities were carried out in many places. An elementary school building which was only 600 metres from the spot where the atomic bomb was dropped, was not completely damaged because it was made of concrete. The outside walls were still standing. It was made into a temporary hospital for severely injured people. Father put Mother and my sister there.
Mother had treatment for the first time after the bomb at a temporary hospital. She had lost her right eye, but after the doctor pulled out a piece of glass off her left eyelid, her eyeball was all right. The light came back!
When the bomb was dropped, Mother had been hugging my sister, so although the baby had many pieces of glass stuck in her head and feet, the injuries were not serious. The hardest thing for her was the shortage of milk. The only thing to do was to cook the rationing food until it became very soft.

The mayor and many staff members were killed instantly by the bomb. With few civil servants left, Father worked day and night for the rebirth of the community. He did not care about his own injuries to the right half of his body. Once in a while he visited my brother and me, bringing lots of blankets and clothing for the victims. He tried to exchange those things for food with the neighbouring farmers, but he was not good at doing that. Sometimes he was deceived. One time he exchanged clothing for a bicycle to use for getting back and forth, but somebody stole it the same day.

In Hiroshima everything within 2 kilometres of the hypo-centre was destroyed. My house was 1.7 kilometres away, so it was a miracle that my family members were all alive and that my brother and I had no injuries. Within 4 kilometres, most houses were burned down. But a river 2.5 kilometres south of the hypo-centre had cut off the fire, so there were some houses left standing.
Father rented one of these and repaired it by himself. At the end of fall, my brother and I went to live in this house with our parents and sister.
From then on, my job was doing all the house chores and taking care of my Mother and sister.
My ears were getting worse so I went to a hospital for treatment. To save money I walked straight to the hospital through the burned out area. There was rubble everywhere, but weeds were beginning to grow, which made me realise that I was alive and well. My ears were in bad condition, continuing to run. A nurse whispered to me, If only you have penicillin Before long, Father got three ampoules of penicillin. The nurse injected me with one ampoule and said, Please keep it a secret. Further she said, Bring an ampoule each time. Be careful not to be robbed on the way. After that, my ears became better and better.

Within the same year, kokumin gakkou or citizens school had its name changed to shogakkou or elementary school. Mot school buildings in the city were burned, and nearby schools were also damaged. Children had to study in combined classes. We shared textbooks. Most children did not have pencils nor notebooks. We listened to the teachers and memorised the words written on the blackboard.
I went to school with my sister on my back. In my bag, instead of school supplies, there were diapers and a feeding bottle filled with vegetable soup. Being malnourished, my sister was always crying feebly on my back. Then all students looked at us with reproach.
During the war, most children were evacuated, so they did not experience the atomic bomb blast. They did not know much about it. Thos who were injured or burned in the blast were still hospitalised or in bed at home. Often people who walked around and digged in the burned out areas or those who looked after the injured people were also affected by radioactivity. Many of those people tried to hide that they too were connected somehow to the atomic bomb explosion.
So, I was the target of curiosity, and called child of Ganchi. Ganchi was a discriminatory word for a one eyed person. Because my mother had only one eye, they were mocking me.

At my parents suggestion, I entered a Christian middle high school. At the prefectural junior college I specialised in sociology. My intention was to work for peace, to do nothing to produce victims of war.
After graduation from college, I began working for the Hiroshima Atomic Bomb Hospital, which was recently established in those days.
My job was interviewing victims of radiation sickness and making records of their condition. Getting to know that there were people who had received more injuries than my family made me suffer everyday.
In that hospital I made a close examination of myself. The result was that my red and white blood cells were fewer than average. I was always having dizziness which I thought was a constitutional thing. The news, then, that it came from radiation exposure gave me a shock. Ever since that time, I have been having regular examinations, but the number of the blood cells are always under average.
The Lord has helped me live up to this time, for which I am humbly grateful.
The work in the hospital was so painful for me that I had to quit after a little more than a year. I think I was too young to continue this hard job. I change directions and became a beautician.

My mother had a big scar on her face, so she hated to have her photograph taken. In fact, I have no photographs of my mother and me taken together. But after I became a beautician, I permed and dyed her hair and made her look as beautiful as she wanted.
Mother was always sick in bed, but she was the strong spiritual support of the family, especially while her children were growing up. Because of her being physically challenged we acquired the attitude of always supporting the weak.
She kept saying, I lost my eye, and Im feeble and always sick. But I think it was a great fortune that only one of the family members was injured seriously, and that it was I. She lived for 31 years after the war.
She could visit church only one time, but her favourite book was the Bible. She memorised Mathew chapter 5 and 6, and acted according to those words.
You should live for the sake of other people. Then, other people will live for the sake of you. This was the message she left me the day before she passes away.
My sister who miraculously recovered was always feeble. But God gave her a wonderful talent. She became a singer of childrens songs and spent much time working at the Hiroshima Broadcasting Station. Many times we eagerly listened to her beautiful voice on the radio in the morning. When she was in high school, she and her school chorus group won first prize at the national school chorus competition. In this event, she was very active as the soprano soloist. Right after that, she had some problem with her thyroid gland and heart, which made her change her routine. I have no courage to tell about her present situation.
My brother has been blessed with health. But, of course, he has had to endure being a member of a family with radiation victims. He married a woman who had lost her father during the war, and now they have two sons.
Father went to heaven in 1994, at the age of 87. It was spring, his favourite season, with lots of cherry blossoms all around.

I have visited many foreign countries, and have received many non-Japanese friends in my home. Through this experience, I have learned that every country has experienced the tragedy of war.
Japan has a history of repressing Asian countries. The world accuses Japan for lacking effort to confess our true history to younger generations, so that the past mistakes will not be repeated.
I feel guilty for this countrys not apologising for the past deeds, rather, trying to grow economically as fast as possible.
God has given us wisdom of culture and civilisation. We must develop it with humble love as the medium. I would like to continue to talk about the peace of past, present, and future with all the people I meet. To be able to do this, Id like to live a little longer!