August 9 is the 77th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. K itand date in the Moscow publishing house Individuum came out The Bell of Nagasaki book. Fontanka, with the permission of the publisher, publishes a fragment of it.
Share“Bell of Nagasaki” is an international bestseller, first published back in 1949, but the book is only now being published in Russian. Its author, Japanese doctor Takashi Nagai, survived the bombing on August 9 and later, being already terminally ill (he was diagnosed with leukemia in June 1945), recorded his experience and the experience of his countrymen on paper.
In the most detailed way, severely and naturally describing what happened during and immediately after the atomic explosion, he also outlined the occurrence and course of radiation sickness, as well as the first methods of its treatment, which was not only a fact of the author’s personal courage, but also a manifestation of his outstanding professionalism : even before the war, as a doctor, he began to engage in research in the field of radiation therapy.
The nuclear bombings and the capitulation of Imperial Japan that followed them are for the author, a staunch Christian, a good Catholic, also an occasion to reflect on how life should now develop in his country and throughout the world. “Respect for the life of every person is the foundation on which we will build a new society,” Nagai says at the end of the book.
Translation from English by Mark Tulchinsky.
“I told the stories of people who were not directly exposed to radiation during the explosion: they were lucky to be in concrete buildings.
But what happened to the people who ended up on the street?
Professor Seiki and his students were diligently digging for cover behind the Pharmacology Department building. Dressed in short pants, bare to the waist, all dirty, they looked like miners. The hypocenter of the explosion was about four hundred meters away. Sensei dug deep, and the students brought the earth to the surface. Who could have guessed that at the moment of the explosion the main lot of their lives was cast? Those who were outside instantly fell into the arms of death, and those who were inside remained alive.
The flash illuminated the shelter to its full depth. Then there was a terrible roar. Tomita, who was working near the exit with a basket in his hands, was literally pushed inward, and he hit the back of Seiki-sensei, who was working with a shovel, squatting down. “What else is this?” Sensei grumbled angrily as he straightened up. But after Tomita flew pieces of wood, clothes, tiles. The log hit Sensei on the head, and he lost consciousness and fell into the mud.
It seemed like several minutes had passed. When Seiki-sensei woke up, he found himself lying in a shelter that was filling with smoke. The hot air continued to come in, but sensei had already jumped up and headed towards the exit. Getting outside, at first he felt joy, realizing that he had survived.
But it didn’t last long. The shovel fell from his weakened hands, and he himself froze with his mouth and eyes wide open, shocked by what he saw. The building of the Faculty of Pharmacology was no more. The biochemistry building is gone. The Pharmacotherapy Corps has disappeared. The fence is gone. The houses located behind the fence also disappeared. Everything, everything that was around, drowned in a raging sea of fire. Doctor of Sciences, an expert in atomic energy, Professor Seiki did not immediately understand that it was an atomic bomb.
He could not have imagined that American scientists had achieved such success.
“Where are the students? Professor Seiki looked around, and a cold shiver ran through his body. “Is it possible that these lifeless bodies are my students?” No, it can not be! I probably got hit on the head in the shelter and still haven’t regained consciousness. A nightmare! As terrible as war is, it can’t be that cruel.”
He pinched his leg. Checked the pulse. No, he did not sleep, and he is alive. “But what is this, if not a nightmare? This reality is worse than any nightmare!” The professor rushed to the nearest burnt body. “Hey!” he called. But there was no answer. He grabbed Okamoto’s shoulders with both hands and tried to lift his body, but the muscles peeled off the bones like a peach skin, exposing the flesh. Okamoto was dead.
The other youth next to him groaned and rolled onto his back. “Murayama, Murayama, hold on!” shouted the professor, hugging the student, but his skin was peeling off. “Teacher! Teacher! Oh!” With these words, Murayama fell on his side and died. Taking a deep breath, Professor Seiki laid his lifeless naked body on the ground and folded his hands in prayer.
Then he crouched beside another charred body. It was Araki. He was swollen like a pumpkin, and the skin had peeled off his face. But the narrow white eyes were open as he softly said, “Sensei, is that you? Looks like I’m done. Thanks for all!”
Blood flowed from the ears and noses of the dead and dying students. Those with broken heads died instantly. Obviously, they were overtaken by a blow of merciless force. Blood bubbled up in the mouths of others like foam.
Tomita, the only one not seriously injured, quickly went around the unfortunates, encouraging them and offering them water. But none of them could move on their own. Helping the wounded, Tomita saw how those who had just drunk from his hands were already calming down and dying. One by one, twenty students died in his arms. The groans of the unfortunate were heard all around. How could they, together with Professor Seiki, help everyone? Did no one else survive and come to the rescue?
Professor Seiki called out, “Help! Help! Someone over here!” Then he turned to the north, then to the east and again called for help. After that, he stood facing the west and shouted again. Finally, he was all ears. Restless gusts of wind swirled furiously on all sides.
From everywhere came endless screams, voices, groans, mixed with the howling of the wind.
— Help!
– It’s hard for me!
– Someone! Here!
— How hot! I’m on fire! Pour water!
– Mother!
– Mommy!
The professor’s head was spinning. He lost consciousness again and fell to the ground. After a while I woke up, opened my eyes and found that a thick black heavy cloud had spread across the sky. The sun was stripped of its rays and turned into a reddish-brown disk. It seemed to be night. It got cold. Professor Seiki listened. The voices crying out for help were silent. The child who had just screamed near his dead mother must have been burned to death.
The first-year students were busily writing. Their ears are not yet accustomed to the sound of Latin words used in anatomy. Yesterday’s schoolchildren, they already began to feel like real doctors …
Then, a sudden flash. General chaos. The teacher did not have time to stop, dictating a sentence, and the students did not have time to raise their heads and look around – in an instant, a heavy roof collapsed on them. Fujimoto, the head of the class, was crushed from above by something heavy. It was completely dark all around. He was choking on the dust and smoke that filled the air. But in the end, he managed to free his upper body and squeeze into the narrow space between the tables. Near him moaned, shouted. After counting the votes, he realized that of the eighty of his classmates, almost none survived.
It smelled of burning. Soon, hot, burning smoke began to rise.
A fire broke out, and a second before the panic, Fujimoto realized that he had to break out in order to survive. He tried to free himself and stand up, but a load of beams, boards and slabs pressed him hard. He couldn’t move. The crackling of the flames was getting closer. I could be burned alive, Fujimoto thought. He pressed, pulled, pushed, strained his muscles, trying to push the trap in which he found himself. I made a jerk, but could not squeeze through even a millimeter. Then he remembered the laws of mechanics, but in his position they could do nothing to help. The air that rushed into his dungeon became more and more burning. The dance of the red flame was approaching.
Suddenly, someone sang “Umi Yukaba” * – “If we leave by sea” (Japanese military-patriotic song, an integral part of the March of Warships. – Ord.) is the anthem of the Japanese Navy. A strong, deep voice sang the march slowly and with dignity. Fujimoto by that time was completely desperate and left a hopeless struggle to listen to the last patriotic song in his short life, sung by a friend. “We will die at your feet, we will not look back,” the voice sang the last lines. “Goodbye, friends,” said the same voice. “I’m burning.”
In a few minutes the fire will reach me too, Fujimoto thought. He resigned himself to his fate. Joining his hands in silent prayer, he closed his eyes and saw the face of his father. “Be calm,” said the father. Then the smiling face of the mother appeared. The image of his younger brother, Masao, swam before his eyes. Undoubtedly, Masao will follow the path of Fujimoto and become a doctor. One by one, the young man remembered the faces of his friends from the X-ray laboratory, where he worked as a technician before entering the medical faculty. I wonder what happened to Tako-chan – “little octopus”? (Tian is a diminutive suffix when referring to children and girls. — Ed.)
They met at the entrance exams, and then studied together. The daily greetings and farewells he exchanged with his colleagues also raced through his mind.
Don’t panic, Fujimoto told himself. “What’s the use of panicking when you’re trapped and about to be burned alive to ashes?” My body is defenseless, and my strength is running out. But soon my soul will begin to travel around the world without barriers, only a minute of captivity remains. He smelled burning flesh. And my smell will be the same, he thought. “This is the greatest moment of my life, and yet it is the most ordinary. Yes, it’s so banal. After all, what is the human body? Just a vessel for filling and emptying, a mechanism for eating, digesting, urinating and defecation.”
Despite the situation he was in, Fujimoto chuckled.
Words that Professor Fuse repeated to students popped into my head: “When you can’t solve a problem, think of something else.” “Yes, it’s so simple,” Fujimoto decided on his own, “instead of trying to break out of the rubble up, you should try to get out from the opposite side!” He began to feel what was under him. Fingers stumbled on a gap between the boards. The blast wave reached the parquet, its strength was not enough to destroy the building, but it was enough to loosen the parquet boards. Fujimoto pulled one of them up. She succumbed and finally yielded with a bang. How delightful that crack sounded!
The air of salvation rushed into the room! The second and third boards followed the first. And Fujimoto fell to the floor below…”
