The Hiroshima Bombing and Its Effects
Hiroshima means “broad island,” a name derived from the city’s position at the mouth of the River Ota. Hiroshima enjoys a view of mountains to the north and a beautiful location on the Inland Sea. The name “Hiroshima” (pronounced with the emphasis on the “o”) now summons up visions of ghastly horror. However, before the war (called by the Japanese “the Great Pacific War”), Hiroshima was known primarily for wonderful oysters, the baroque castle that “jutted over the thatched roofs like the ornament on an ancient helmet,” and the Shinto shrine on the nearby island of Miyajima. (Rodney Barker, The Hiroshima Maidens: A Story of Courage, Compassion, and Survival p. 15)
By 1944, the United States and its allies were carpet-bombing enemy cities with incendiary weapons. These included not only Dresden and Berlin but also Tokyo, where an estimated 100,000 died and many more injured in a single raid. Attempts to avoid “collateral damage” to civilians were all but forgotten. Hiroshima had been an important naval port since the end of the 19th century. During WWII it was the headquarters of the Japanese Army defending southern Japan, and was a major military storage and assembly point. By August 1945, there were between 25,000-50,000 servicemen in the city, as well as munitions and supply depots and thousands of Koreans pressed into slave labor by the Japanese. It contained a massive Mitsubishi factory, a gun factory producing 6,000 rifles a week, and businesses that made parts for kamikaze airplanes. (George Caron, Fire of a Thousand Suns, Web Publishing, 1995 and “The Decision to Use the Atomic Bomb” by Henry L. Stimson, Harper’s Magazine, February, 1947.) Because factories were dispersed in residential areas, the U.S. military had determined that it was impossible to try to destroy Hiroshima as a support base for the Japanese army and navy independently of its civilians.
In August of 1945, the people of Hiroshima were very much aware that while Osaka, Kobe, and other cities were being incinerated, Hiroshima had remained untouched except by a lone B29 bomber that destroyed some buildings in the business district in April, 1945. There was much speculation about why this was so, with some people contending that the Americans had recognized Hiroshima’s natural beauty and were planning to build their villas there after the war. Others thought that because there were so many Americans related to people in Hiroshima, that it was being spared out of favoritism. The most fanciful explanation was that President Harry Truman’s mother was in Hiroshima, presumably staying in the castle. The reality was that in July, Hiroshima had been set aside as one of four cities to be spared conventional bombing in order to achieve the maximum impact from a new weapon: the atomic bomb. Ironically, it was Hiroshima’s lovely view that made it a particularly good candidate since the Target Committee concluded that the adjacent hills were “likely to produce a focusing effect which would considerably increase the blast damage.” (Peter Wyden, Day One: Before Hiroshima and After). It was mistakenly thought that there were no American prisoners of war in Hiroshima; in fact, there were at least ten killed from American aircrews. Three other cities were on the list of candidates for an a-bomb attack: Kokura, Niigata, and Nagasaki.
Though some Japanese knew that their country was losing the war, most were persuaded by the miltary authorities (referred to as the “Supreme Understanding” (Barker, p. 18)) that the Americans were being lured to the home islands to be destroyed. One secondary school student, Hiroko N., remembered after the war:
Time went on and we knew the war was getting more intense. We could bear it because we were sure Japan was winning. Soon it would be over. Our radio broadcasts told us of the glorious victories of our armies and the defeats suffered by the Americans. We heard only good news of Japan. And we believed it…. The history of our country went back more than two thousand years. In all that time Japan had never been invaded. We had been taught that it never could be. Our country was protected by the gods. We were confident we would win this war as we had all others, because we were the country of the gods…. We were sure the gods would send some miracle to protect us from the cruel Americans. (Anne Chisholm, Faces of Hiroshima: A Report by Anne Chisholm, p. 20)
These illusions were shattered when the atomic bomb nicknamed “Little Boy” was dropped on Hiroshima at 8:16 a.m. on August 6, 1945. An earlier weather plane, scouting ahead for the bomb-bearing “Enola Gay”, had caused officials to sound an alarm 45 minutes earlier. When that plane disappeared, an all clear sounded. The people of Hiroshima went back to their regular early morning business routine. By that time in the war, many secondary school children had been assigned to spend much of their school time clearing fire lanes so that if the B29s bombed the city, fires from the wooden houses would not spread so quickly. Younger children, like the character of Miyeko, were on their way to school.
The bomb exploded 1850 feet above the ground and only 800 feet off its target, the Aioi Bridge. According to a 1946 study by the Manhattan Project, 255,000 people were in the city and some 66,000 (25%) died instantly or within the next four months with 69,000 (29%) being injured. Burns accounted for 60% of the injuries and falling debris accounted for 30%. (Note that other estimates are higher both in terms of total population and casualties. For example, tens of thousands of Korean slave laborers in the city were probably not counted. See discussion at How many died at Hiroshima?.) The force of wind rushing from the point of explosion was about 1,000 mph (440 meters per second). People by the thousands were hurled through the air or crushed under their collapsed houses or places of business. Glass from shattered windows filled the air. Propelled by the wind, the shards of glass penetrated deep into the victims’ bodies.
Within the four square miles of the city, 48,000 out of 76,000 buildings were completely demolished. Ninety percent of the city’s doctors and nurses were killed. Therefore, the injured who managed to drag themselves to the hospitals often lay untreated and, because of their horrific burns, unrecognized. Many people had Miyeko’s experience of having the person walking beside them seem to disappear. Indeed, some were so totally vaporized that only their shadows remained on the walls, shadows that can be seen today in the Hiroshima Peace Museum. For more on the destruction of Hiroshima, see Handout #1 of the “Lesson Plan on Mass Casualties and Making Decisions About War” and Hiroshima–August 6th, 1945. CNN has obtained a copy of rare footage made in the immediate aftermath of the attack by the Japanese Education Ministry. It had been confiscated by the American occupation force who feared that such stark evidence of the damage wreaked by the atomic bomb would lead to a worldwide outcry against the weapon and the country that had used it. To view parts of this film, visit this CNN site.
As in all tragedies, it seemed that small things saved or condemned people: lingering over breakfast and thus being outside the epicenter; walking by a wall that provided protection from the blast; wearing light clothing that provided little protection. Miyeko’s scars were all on one side of her body, and this was true of many people. At 900 times hotter than the sun, the flash (the “pika”) burned the part of the body most exposed to it, and many of the terrible scars on the hands of the Hiroshima Maidens and other survivors were because they had held their hands up to shield their eyes from the sun when they looked at the silvery image of the B-29 overhead. Others were injured when the massive shock wave that followed the flash (the “don”) caused their internal organs to liquefy or pulled buildings down on them. The boom that followed the flash was described as “a hundred thunders sounding at once, shaking the earth on its axis.” (Caron, p. 249) The Japanese heard the announcement President Truman made about an atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima but many weeks passed before the citizens of the two ruined cities knew what had hit them. Thus it is that many Japanese, even today, do not speak of an atomic bomb, but a “pika-don” — a flash-boom.
Many of the burn wounds became infected and took many months to heal. Indeed, when Shigeko Niimoto was staying with the Norman Cousins family ten years after the blast, she still had open wounds. Ellen Cousins was ahead of her time in recognizing the importance of nutrition and Shigeko’s sores healed at last. Survivors, called “hibakusha” (pronounced: hi-BACK-sha), literally the “bomb-affected ones”, had access to no such nutrition in post-war Japan, and often the most they had to treat the wounds was motor oil. Even when the wounds healed, the scars became keloids, angry, red scars that looked like hemp rope, and that often itched and burned decades after the war ended. Doctors have concluded that the skin of Asians is particularly susceptible to forming keloids. Rodney Barker, whose family hosted two Hiroshima Maidens in the summer of 1955 and who went on to write a book about these women, said:
Among the thousands who survived that fateful August morning, the thinly clad, young schoolgirls were the unluckiest. In a fraction of a second their lives took a tragic turn. Many had witnessed the atomic flash with their faces lifted, and the intense heat charred exposed flesh and left scars that wrenched their facial features into grotesquely symbolic expressions. One could not smile because the contractions tugged her lips over her teeth into a permanent snarl. Another had her right eyelid seared away; unprotected, the eye watered steadily as though possessed with grief of its very own. (Barker, p. 55)
The social cost of these terrible scars was also painful. The Japanese people believed in reincarnation, and the assumption was that if bad things happened to you, it was retribution for evil deeds by you or your ancestors in a former life. No pity was to be extended to those who suffered, rather they were expected to endure all with stoicism and without complaint. Those who told other Japanese of their atomic sufferings were often thought to be trying to get inappropriate attention and were shunned. Sometimes people did worse than lower their eyes and hurry by. Miyeko complained of children yelling “pika-don” (flash-boom) at her when she went outside, and certainly, these victims tended to hide themselves away. One of the Hiroshima Maidens, Hiroko Tasaka, remembered snickers from neighborhood children. She later confided that only one person ever said anything to her: “If I looked like you, I could not bear to go on living.” In order to shield herself and others, Hiroko took to wearing a mask whenever she went out, but when she took it off to have a doctor examine her, he gasped and said: “It’s unfortunate you didn’t die.” (Barker, pp. 32-33) Likewise, Hiroshima Maiden Shigeko Niimoto overheard boys joking about her: “Looks just like a damn monkey, doesn’t she?” and another: “I wouldn’t have her for my wife if they gave me a million yen.” (Barker, p. 41) Because it was wrongly believed that people exposed to the atomic attack would give birth to deformed babies, hibakusha were considered unmarriageable. Even today, traditional matchmakers avoid the second generation of survivors, ignorantly believing their blood to be somehow tainted. Beyond that, hibakusha felt survivor shame. In a culture in which shame played a large part, the hibakusha were particularly afflicted. One survivor, Yoko Ota, spoke of the “shame of living,” of being “bothered by the fact that I was still alive.” She told American psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton: “I was sorry for the people who died because I was living.” Lifton interpreted this to mean the survivor was “bound by an unconscious perception of organic social balance which makes him feel that his survival was made possible by others’ death: If they had not died, he would have had to; if he had not survived, someone else would have.” (Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima p. 56.)