EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT - 1

EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT

Hiroshima — August 6th, 1945
by Father John A. Siemes, professor of modern philosphy
at Tokyo’s Catholic University
Up to August 6th, occasional bombs, which did no great
damage, had fallen on Hiroshima. Many cities roundabout,
one after the other, were destroyed, but Hiroshima itself
remained protected. There were almost daily observation
planes over the city but none of them dropped a bomb.
The citizens wondered why they alone had remained undisturbed
for so long a time. There were fantastic rumors
that the enemy had something special in mind for this city,
but no one dreamed that the end would come in such a
fashion as on the morning of August 6th.
August 6th began in a bright, clear, summer morning.
About seven o’clock, there was an air raid alarm which we
had heard almost every day and a few planes appeared over
the city. No one paid any attention and at about eight
o’clock, the all-clear was sounded. I am sitting in my room
at the Novitiate of the Society of Jesus in Nagatsuke; during
the past half year, the philosophical and theological
section of our Mission had been evacuated to this place
from Tokyo. The Novitiate is situated approximately two
kilometers from Hiroshima, half-way up the sides of a broad
valley which stretches from the town at sea level into this
mountainous hinterland, and through which courses a river.
From my window, I have a wonderful view down the valley
to the edge of the city.
Suddenly—the time is approximately 8:14—the whole
valley is filled by a garish light which resembles the magnesium
light used in photography, and I am conscious of a
wave of heat. I jump to the window to find out the cause
of this remarkable phenomenon, but I see nothing more
than that brilliant yellow light. As I make for the door, it
doesn’t occur to me that the light might have something to
do with enemy planes. On the way from the window, I
hear a moderately loud explosion which seems to come
from a distance and, at the same time, the windows are
broken in with a loud crash. There has been an interval of
perhaps ten seconds since the flash of light. I am sprayed
by fragments of glass. The entire window frame has been
forced into the room. I realize now that a bomb has burst

and I am under the impression that it exploded directly
over our house or in the immediate vicinity.
I am bleeding from cuts about the hands and head. I attempt
to get out of the door. It has been forced outwards
by the air pressure and has become jammed. I force an
opening in the door by means of repeated blows with my
hands and feet and come to a broad hallway from which
open the various rooms. Everything is in a state of confusion.
All windows are broken and all the doors are forced
inwards. The bookshelves in the hallway have tumbled
down. I do not note a second explosion and the fliers seem
to have gone on. Most of my colleagues have been injured
by fragments of glass. A few are bleeding but none has
been seriously injured. All of us have been fortunate since
it is now apparent that the wall of my room opposite the
window has been lacerated by long fragments of glass.
We proceed to the front of the house to see where the
bomb has landed. There is no evidence, however, of a bomb
crater; but the southeast section of the house is very severely
damaged. Not a door nor a window remains. The
blast of air had penetrated the entire house from the southeast,
but the house still stands. It is constructed in a Japanese
style with a wooden framework, but has been greatly
strengthened by the labor of our Brother Gropper as is
frequently done in Japanese homes. Only along the front
of the chapel which adjoins the house, three supports have
given way (it has been made in the manner of Japanese
temple, entirely out of wood.)
Down in the valley, perhaps one kilometer toward the
city from us, several peasant homes are on fire and the
woods on the opposite side of the valley are aflame. A few
of us go over to help control the flames. While we are
attempting to put things in order, a storm comes up and it
begins to rain. Over the city, clouds of smoke are rising
and I hear a few slight explosions. I come to the conclusion
that an incendiary bomb with an especially strong explosive
action has gone off down in the valley. A few of us
saw three planes at great altitude over the city at the time
of the explosion. I, myself, saw no aircraft whatsoever.
Perhaps a half-hour after the explosion, a procession of
people begins to stream up the valley from the city. The
crowd thickens continuously. A few come up the road to
our house. We give them first aid and bring them into the
chapel, which we have in the meantime cleaned and cleared
of wreckage, and put them to rest on the straw mats which
constitute the floor of Japanese houses. A few display horrible
wounds of the extremities and back. The small quantity
of fat which we possessed during this time of war was
soon used up in the care of the burns. Father Rektor who,
before taking holy orders, had studied medicine, ministers
to the injured, but our bandages and drugs are soon gone.
We must be content with cleansing the wounds.
More and more of the injured come to us. The least injured
drag the more seriously wounded. There are wounded

soldiers, and mothers carrying burned children in their arms.
From the houses of the farmers in the valley comes word:
“Our houses are full of wounded and dying. Can you help,
at least by taking the worst cases?” The wounded come
from the sections at the edge of the city. They saw the
bright light, their houses collapsed and buried the inmates
in their rooms. Those that were in the open suffered instantaneous
burns, particularly on the lightly clothed or
unclothed parts of the body. Numerous fires sprang up
which soon consumed the entire district. We now conclude
that the epicenter of the explosion was at the edge of the
city near the Jokogawa Station, three kilometers away from
us. We are concerned about Father Kopp who that same
morning, went to hold Mass at the Sisters of the Poor,
who have a home for children at the edge of the city. He
had not returned as yet.
Toward noon, our large chapel and library are filled with
the seriously injured. The procession of refugees from the
city continues. Finally, about one o’clock, Father Kopp
returns, together with the Sisters. Their house and the entire
district where they live has burned to the ground. Father
Kopp is bleeding about the head and neck, and he has
a large burn on the right palm. He was standing in front of
the nunnery ready to go home. All of a sudden, he became
aware of the light, felt the wave of heat and a large blister
formed on his hand. The windows were torn out by the
blast. He thought that the bomb had fallen in his immediate
vicinity. The nunnery, also a wooden structure made by
our Brother Gropper, still remained but soon it is noted
that the house is as good as lost because the fire, which
had begun at many points in the neighborhood, sweeps
closer and closer, and water is not available. There is still
time to rescue certain things from the house and to bury
them in an open spot. Then the house is swept by flame,
and they fight their way back to us along the shore of the
river and through the burning streets.
Soon comes news that the entire city has been destroyed
by the explosion and that it is on fire. What became of
Father Superior and the three other Fathers who were at
the center of the city at the Central Mission and Parish
House? We had up to this time not given them a thought
because we did not believe that the effects of the bomb
encompassed the entire city. Also, we did not want to go
into town except under pressure of dire necessity, because
we thought that the population was greatly perturbed and
that it might take revenge on any foreigners which they
might consider spiteful onlookers of their misfortune, or
even spies.
Father Stolte and Father Erlinghagen go down to the
road which is still full of refugees and bring in the seriously
injured who have sunken by the wayside, to the temporary
aid station at the village school. There iodine is applied to
the wounds but they are left uncleansed. Neither ointments
nor other therapeutic agents are available. Those that have

been brought in are laid on the floor and no one can give
them any further care. What could one do when all means
are lacking? Under those circumstances, it is almost useless
to bring them in. Among the passersby, there are many
who are uninjured. In a purposeless, insensate manner, distraught
by the magnitude of the disaster most of them rush
by and none conceives the thought of organizing help on
his own initiative. They are concerned only with the welfare
of their own families. It became clear to us during
these days that the Japanese displayed little initiative, preparedness,
and organizational skill in preparation for catastrophes.
They failed to carry out any rescue work when
something could have been saved by a cooperative effort,
and fatalistically let the catastrophe take its course. When
we urged them to take part in the rescue work, they did
everything willingly, but on their own initiative they did
very little.