The Bomb Seen From Miles Away
Sanna Symer '18
It was August 6th, 1945 that I lost my father and younger brothers. The nuclear bomb exploded ten miles away from our home in Hiroshima, Japan; at the time, I had been in the first period of school, thirty miles from my house. My father, however, had been at work in a building about half a mile from the bomb. When it exploded, the bomb immediately demolished everything within about a mile radius, and my father was killed. After that morning, I never saw him again.
My brothers' school was closer to the bomb as well. About five miles away, they survived the initial bomb. They became ill, though, because of the radiation. The hospitals were so full that we could not get my brothers to the doctor on time. Even if we had, there would have been little we could have done. From radiation sickness, my youngest brother died four days after the bombing. My other younger brother Yuki lived longer; we were silently hoping for a miracle, but he died on August 14th, the day my country surrendered. It was devastating. At least I got to say goodbye.
But I can still, to this day, remember the mushroom-cloud of bomb smoke hanging in the air, a message from the United States telling my country to surrender. I can remember the fear that seeped from my heart; into my stomach; into my bones themselves as I heard the news of where the bomb had gone off. I remember the expressions of my friends' faces when they told me that their parents had died. I remember seeing the ruins of Hiroshima, seeing the wiped-out streets and buildings knocked down in seconds. I hated the USA, the powerful country that murdered my family members and forever changed my life. Why must we have war?
I was alone with my mother from that day on. At first, we were both shocked to the point of muteness; I barely spoke for a few months. But the community - all of my friends and neighbors in Hiroshima- joined together in a most fantastic way. I'd never before seen such kindness, such empathy toward one another in my town. My family members became closer, and my grandmother moved in. I began to talk again, even though I still cried every day for my father and brothers. I missed them, and still loved them more than anything else in the world.
I will say that I also acknowledge the terrors my country created in Nanking, China in 1937, though it happened when I was only a toddler, and I only know what happened based on what I've been told. I wish I did not live in a world in which people fought and killed so often, but I must not hide the truth. The city of Nanking was ruined entirely, and a hundred thousand people were killed. Over twenty thousand women were raped in a seven-week period. If I had not experienced the bombing of Hiroshima, I would not have believed this possible. I can still barely fathom the idea that humans can create such massive terror and death.
As a young child, I was unfortunate enough to experience tragedies of World War II. I was told about the horrific Nanking Massacre. These events have made me stronger and have made me greatly appreciate family and peace. As the world changes and I get older, I find myself treasuring every happy moment I have. But I will never forget August 6th, the day my town was bombed, the day my life was changed forever.
My brothers' school was closer to the bomb as well. About five miles away, they survived the initial bomb. They became ill, though, because of the radiation. The hospitals were so full that we could not get my brothers to the doctor on time. Even if we had, there would have been little we could have done. From radiation sickness, my youngest brother died four days after the bombing. My other younger brother Yuki lived longer; we were silently hoping for a miracle, but he died on August 14th, the day my country surrendered. It was devastating. At least I got to say goodbye.
But I can still, to this day, remember the mushroom-cloud of bomb smoke hanging in the air, a message from the United States telling my country to surrender. I can remember the fear that seeped from my heart; into my stomach; into my bones themselves as I heard the news of where the bomb had gone off. I remember the expressions of my friends' faces when they told me that their parents had died. I remember seeing the ruins of Hiroshima, seeing the wiped-out streets and buildings knocked down in seconds. I hated the USA, the powerful country that murdered my family members and forever changed my life. Why must we have war?
I was alone with my mother from that day on. At first, we were both shocked to the point of muteness; I barely spoke for a few months. But the community - all of my friends and neighbors in Hiroshima- joined together in a most fantastic way. I'd never before seen such kindness, such empathy toward one another in my town. My family members became closer, and my grandmother moved in. I began to talk again, even though I still cried every day for my father and brothers. I missed them, and still loved them more than anything else in the world.
I will say that I also acknowledge the terrors my country created in Nanking, China in 1937, though it happened when I was only a toddler, and I only know what happened based on what I've been told. I wish I did not live in a world in which people fought and killed so often, but I must not hide the truth. The city of Nanking was ruined entirely, and a hundred thousand people were killed. Over twenty thousand women were raped in a seven-week period. If I had not experienced the bombing of Hiroshima, I would not have believed this possible. I can still barely fathom the idea that humans can create such massive terror and death.
As a young child, I was unfortunate enough to experience tragedies of World War II. I was told about the horrific Nanking Massacre. These events have made me stronger and have made me greatly appreciate family and peace. As the world changes and I get older, I find myself treasuring every happy moment I have. But I will never forget August 6th, the day my town was bombed, the day my life was changed forever.