Grandparents share experiences of the atomic bombing

This summer, embracing their hopes

This year, 2011, marks the 66th year since the atomic bomb was dropped on August 6, 1945. August 6 is again approaching. The average age of the atomic bomb survivors is now over 77. As they age, the opportunity to hear their stories directly is diminishing.

For this issue, the junior writers sat down with their grandparents and interviewed them about their experiences of the atomic bombing. They shared their accounts of life during the war, after the war, and their memories of childhood. The junior writers were given such messages as "We must never have another war" and "We hope you will help build a peaceful future."

In fact, it was the first time that the junior writers heard their grandparents' stories of the atomic bombing in depth. Though the tellers and listeners may have felt a bit awkward at first, the fact that the listeners are descendants of the same family means they have a very personal stake in these accounts. During this summer vacation, maybe you could sit down with family members or relatives, too, and talk to them about their experiences of war.

Yasufumi Sasaki (right) talks about okonomiyaki and its special sauce, a symbol of the city's reconstruction, to his granddaughter Rena (center) and other junior writers. (Photo taken by Sayaka Azechi, 16)

Yasufumi was 6 years old when he was exposed to the atomic bomb near Yokogama train station, located 1.6 kilometers from the hypocenter. He was by his house, held in a neighbor's arms and watching U.S. planes in the sky. The sight was glaring to him, though, so he asked the neighbor to put him down. At that moment, he saw something that looked like a parachute, and then there was a flash. His memory breaks off at that point. When Yasufumi came to again, he found that he had been blown some distance away, but he hadn't been injured.

His father, who was making vinegar in a storehouse nearby, wasn't injured, either. His mother, though, was in the house and she was struck in the head by a falling beam. She blacked out, but Yasufumi's crying revived her. Afterwards, his mother often said that it was the sound of her son crying that helped her to survive. Yasufumi also recalls that as they were fleeing to a relative's house, he saw A-bomb victims groaning in a grove of bamboo trees.

Yasufumi is the youngest child of seven siblings. Two elder brothers also experienced the atomic bombing. One of them died 16 years after the blast, while the other passed away more than 60 years later, due to leukemia. He shared his worries about radiation, saying, 窶弋he damage done by radiation doesn't always appear right away. The accident at the nuclear power plant is terrible. It makes me anxious about the future.窶・/p>

Yasufumi is the chairman of the Otafuku Sauce Company, a company that produces sauce made especially for okonomiyaki, a pancake-like dish made from batter, cabbage, meat, and other ingredients. When the atomic bomb was dropped, his father was engaged in making vinegar and selling Japanese sake, but he lost everything in the bombing and had to start again from scratch.

Yasufumi's father began producing and selling sauce in 1950. For okonomiyaki restaurants, which were started by widows whose husbands died in the war or in the atomic bombing and became a symbol of Hiroshima's reconstruction, the sauce was vital for this dish and it helped sustain the okonomiyaki restaurants. Yasufumi helped out in his father's workshop by peeling garlic, cutting onions, and affixing labels to the bottles of sauce.

Rena with her grandfather Yasufumi, around 1999.

When he was a child, Yasufumi dreamed of going to the United States. Although the United States was the nation that dropped the atomic bomb, his mother was born there, the place to which her family had immigrated. His maternal grandparents told him about the way of life in America and they gave him a gold watch and a ring from that country. For these reasons, the United States became an attractive destination.

However, when he reached the age of 18, his father, whom he respected, bowed down to him for the first time. "Would you join my company?" his father asked. "If you and your brothers are involved, we can be the most successful sauce maker in Japan." So Yasufumi decided to devote himself to the family business.

Looking back on his childhood, he says, "From today's point of view, it was a humble lifestyle, but we were happy. We always had faith that the future would be better. Please continue to have hope for the future." The wisdom he received from his father is something he would like to share with young people today, including his granddaughter Rena: "Think about the peace and happiness of other people around you, not just yourself. If you'll do that, we can put a stop to fighting and conflicts. I hope you'll help build that sort of peaceful world."

Kanji Tanaka (left) stresses the importance of peace to his grandson Masataka (left) and other junior writers. (Photo taken by Yuka Ichimura, 15)

At the time of the atomic bombing, Kanji Tanaka was a junior in the department of medicine at the present-day Kyoto University. He learned of the bombing in the morning paper of August 8, two days after the blast. The article reported that a new type of bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima. Kanji feared that something terrible had happened. Somehow he managed to board a packed train bound for the city. On the following day, August 9, he arrived in Hiroshima and was stunned to see very few buildings still standing, such as Fukuya Department Store and Hiroshima Red Cross Hospital.

He walked to his house in Asaminami Ward, about 4 kilometers north of Yokogawa station. His family was unharmed, and his house still stood, but the ceiling was lifted higher by the blast. A rumor had spread that Kyoto was bombed as well, so his family was surprised that Kanji had made it home.

On the day the war ended, August 15, word came that the Emperor would deliver an important announcement over the radio. Kanji expected the Emperor to encourage the Japanese people by saying, "Hold fast and keep fighting." The radio broadcast was hard to make out, but from the snatches of the Emperor's address that he caught, Kanji realized that Japan was surrendering. A few days later, the "blackout order" was lifted and now he felt that the war was really over.

Four-month-old Masataka smiles in his grandfather Kanji's arms.

The first reason Kanji wanted to be a doctor was the fact that his father, who died of illness in 1939, had recommended this path. If the war had dragged on, he was set to enter medical school in October 1945 to become a military doctor. After the war, he returned to Hiroshima and stayed for a time, but he resumed his studies at Kyoto University in April 1946 and became a pediatrician.

In 1951, he married Mokiko, who died in March of this year at the age of 81. Mokiko was 16 when she experienced the atomic bombing of Hiroshima in the southern part of the city. In her later years, she often shared her account of the bombing with her grandchildren, including Masataka. "She knew she didn't have much longer to live," Kanji said, "so she wanted to convey to them the horror of war."

Kanji worked as a pediatrician at his own clinic until September 2010. Speaking about his grandson Masataka, who was born together with a twin sister, Kanji recalled, "He was a little baby, weighing just 2.7 kilograms, but he was very cute." Mastaka continues to live with Kanji, who described his grandson in this way: 窶廴asataka was a grandma's boy. He's a sweet, attentive child.窶・He wants to stress to his three grandchildren that "peace is the highest and most precious thing."

Masako (right) and Masayoshi (third from left) share their memories of the evacuation from Hiroshima with their granddaughter Minako (second from left) and others. (Photo taken by Reiko Takaya, 14)

The war experience that left the strongest impression on both Masayoshi and Masako was their evacuation to places in the countryside. When Masayoshi was in the sixth grade at Koujinmachi Elementary School, he and his sister, who was two years younger, were evacuated that spring from their house near Hiroshima train station to Myoho Temple, located north of the city. They went there together with schoolmates.

Before their evacuation, he would flee to an air raid shelter whenever an air raid siren went off. He was afraid they would be attacked at any time.

When he boarded the train that was bound for the temple, many mothers were there at the station to see off their children. He saw the mother of one friend break down crying. Later, he heard that that mother had been killed by the atomic bomb. "That was probably their final farewell. I now understand a parent's sorrow," Masayoshi said, wiping away tears.

At their evacuation site, one teacher often told him: "Chew well and eat slowly." There was so little food, though, that normally the meals lasted only a few mouthfuls. Still, he chewed his food dozens of times.

On August 6, the rural village where they were staying was also affected by the atomic bombing. Masayoshi remembers the rain falling on the temple grounds. It looked different from normal rain--it was a blackish rain. One woman caring for the children at the temple returned to Hiroshima to check on conditions there and brought back the news that Masayoshi's parents and siblings were all safe.

Masayoshi's family ran an inn, and some of their guests died in the blast. The inn had collapsed, and his mother was caught under it, but his grandfather pulled her out to safety. A few months later, after the war had ended, Masayoshi returned to Hiroshima and his family started a new life in Danbara, a part of the city that wasn't burned in the bombing. But neighbors who had survived the blast then passed away one after the other. For the first time, the atomic bomb struck fear in his heart, and he thought, "My parents are okay now, but they might die at any time."

Five-year-old Minako (second from right), with her grandparents Masayoshi and Masako, mark her younger brother's first visit to a shrine.

Masako was in the second grade at Kojinmachi Elementary School and she evacuated with her family, from their house near Hiroshima station, to Fukugi on the eastern side of Hiroshima. Her family was preparing for a Buddhist service when the atomic bomb exploded. She heard a great boom and her mother fell backward in shock. Masako hurried up a mountain nearby and looked out to see the mushroom cloud.

A few days later, Masako returned to Hiroshima with her mother and felt horrified that such a thing had happened. After the war, Masako returned to Kojinmachi Elementary School, but there weren't any desks and the students would study outside.

Masayoshi and Masako now have eight grandchildren. They run a school which teaches math skills using the abacus. Masayoshi said, "When I was a child, it took all my strength to go on living and I wasn't able to study like I wanted to. Children today can make their dreams come true if they put forth the proper effort." And Masako stressed the idea: "Never forget that war should never be waged."