Spring of 45

While Joe held back the Filipino mob, I had the Jap soldier kneel with his hands on his head while I searched him. He probably thought I was going to shoot him in the back of the head, as this was what the Japs would typically do with prisoners. He was unarmed, and his dirty raggedy uniform was hanging on him loosely. It was obvious that he has not eaten much in weeks. All I found on him was a picture of an attractive Japanese woman holding a baby in her arms. I put it back in his pocket, for which he seemed grateful.

Joe and I had the Filipinos bring us the bundles of food we had gathered. We had our prisoner carry what he could and we marched him back to our camp. Frank was glad to see us back, especially with three dozen fresh eggs. We made sure our prisoner was fed, probably the first good meal he'd had in weeks, and then turned him over to the battalion headquarters staff for interrogation.

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Lieutenant Roger Morgan, navigator, B-29 'The Dirty Bird'

The sun had already set off the port side of the giant B-29 bomber. We had been flying for three hours over the Pacific Ocean, and still had about two more hours before we started our bomb run. We had gotten up at an ungodly hour this morning to hear the general tell us we were initiating a new phase in the air war on Japan. Bombs were loaded, planes were fueled, crews were fed. At 7:00 pm, we took off from our base on the island of Tinian. Other planes took off from Saipan and Guam, all heading for the same target.

Tokyo.

Soon enough, we would be descending to five thousand feet, and beginning our bomb run on the Japanese capitol. Each plane was loaded with 14,000 pounds of incendiary bombs, each a combination of magnesium and napalm. The first two waves would drop their bombs in a crisscross manner over the district of Koto, creating a giant flaming X on the ground, marking the target for succeeding waves of the giant bombers. We took off on March 9, and it would be March 10 before our wheels would touch down again on the runway at Tinian.

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Firestorm

As was their custom, Mata and Molli had gone to bed early, while still daylight. They lay together on their sleeping mats, holding each other for warmth and comfort. After midnight, they were awakened by the noise of the air raid sirens, and Nurse Yuri and Sister Sakura came into their room and gathered them together. They had no shelter, no safe place to go, so on the occasions of air raids they would huddle together and pray for protection.

The noise from the exploding bombs seemed to be all around them. They trembled and held each other tighter. Sister Sakura repeated her prayers louder, so God would hear her above the sound of the bombs. The room began to fill with the smell of the acrid smoke, and the air got hotter. They held on tighter. Mata was choking and Molli was gasping for air.

Before the roof collapsed, the four occupants of the orphanage had already succumbed to the smoke and lack of oxygen.

It would be days before the ashes cooled. The orphanage was gone. Hamiko's mother's house was gone. Hashimoto's factory was gone, leaving only the melted hulks of a dozen Singer sewing machines, made in the USA.

It was estimated that 100,000 people died in the firestorm that night.

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Hamiko

It was the middle of April, and my mother and I had been living with her sister, my Aunt Suki for a month. My aunt took in laundry and her husband, my Uncle Hashimi, was a fisherman. My mother and I helped with the laundry, and I also worked as a seamstress. We had heard of the terrible firestorm air raid in Tokyo. From what I had heard, I knew the orphanage had to have been in the middle of the fire. I did not know of the fate of my son, and I had to assume he had perished. I cried every day for a week, but then I had to get on with my life.

I was working in the garden behind the house when I felt a cramp in my abdomen. I dropped my rake and clutched my belly, and then felt something warm and sticky between my legs. I called out to my mother, and she and my aunt helped me back to the house. They cleaned me up and got me comfortable. I didn't know I was pregnant, and I had a miscarriage. That was fortunate, as I would die before I would have a baby from one of the soldiers that had raped me. I rested for three days, and then went back to work.

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Satashi

It is spring of 1946, and the war has been over for six months. I had been in a prisoner of war camp since last spring, and I was waiting to be repatriated to Japan. I didn't know what I would find. I didn't know if my wife and son would still be alive, and if I could ever find them. I have heard stories of the damage to Tokyo by the American air raids. Since the war ended, I have been working as a stevedore on the docks in Manila. I was told I would be going home next week, but did I still have a home to go to?

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Epilog - Satashi

I worked for a month on the docks in Tokyo after I got back from the Philippines. Most of the work was unloading American ships, but there were a lot of ships bringing food to Japan. People were starving. As soon as I was able to get some time, I went to the district that had been my home. I knew I wouldn't find anything there but ashes. In the corner of the house, where there had been a Shinto shrine to her ancestors, I saw a glimmer of shiny metal. It was what remained of her grandfather's pocket watch.

I know my wife has an aunt that lived on the coast, so I decided to go there. If she wasn't there, her aunt may know what happened to her. By catching rides on trucks on the highway, I get to Shimonagai in two days.

I can't believe, as I walked up to the gate, I saw my beautiful wife there, working in her garden. When I called her name, she turned and dropped her rake, and ran into my arms. I promised to never leave her again.

We lived in her Aunt Suki's house, and I worked on the fishing boat with her Uncle Hashimi. The work is long and hard, but I learned the trade quickly and it is no harder than unloading ships.

Aunt Suki had a visit one day from an elderly Jesuit priest travelling through the district. My wife told him of leaving our son in the Jesuit orphanage that was subsequently destroyed in the air raid. The priest knew that most of the children had been evacuated out of Tokyo before the raid, and told us where many were still living. We left the next day, and made the trip to the farm where we found our son. Of course he didn't know me, but he recognized his mother right away.

August 1947

Our little family is reunited. We have our own house, with a garden. I have my own fishing boat. Hamiko's mother lives with us and cares for her grandchildren. Our newest additions are twin girls, named Mata and Molli.

[ Authors note: This story is a work of fiction. The only historical fact in this story is the air raid on Tokyo on March 9, 1945. The resources I used were:

Scott, James M. (2022). Black Snow. W.W. Norton & Company. ISBN 978-1-324-00299-4.

Hoyt, Edwin P. (2000). Inferno, The Fire Bombing of Japan. Madison Books. ISBN 1-56833-149-5.]