Sunken WWII Japanese warship found off Solomon Islands
TOKYO : An international research team has located a Japanese World War II destroyer on the deep seabed off Solomon Islands as the 80th anniversary of the war's end approaches.
A team from the US non-profit Ocean Exploration Trust discovered the Imperial Japanese navy destroyer Teruzuki at a depth of more than 800m off the small island nation northeast of Australia.
A video image of the wreck shows parts of the 134m Teruzuki, which was torpedoed by the US military in 1942, illuminated by lights from the research team's underwater drones.
The footage shows red paint on the hull, corroded gun barrels and the warship's massive stern.
Commissioned in 1942, the Teruzuki was designed for screening aircraft carriers from aerial attacks, the exploration group said.
However, the Teruzuki, which means 'Shining Moon' in Japanese, was hit by US torpedoes just months into its service.
Nine sailors were killed but most of the crew members survived, the Ocean Exploration Trust said.
Teruzuki's stern was found more than 200m from the hull and was located by high-resolution sonar scans, it said.
The discovery was made while the team used drones to survey the area in the hope of finding unidentified shipwrecks or other items.
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Free Malaysia Today
2 days ago
- Free Malaysia Today
My classmate became a fountain of blood, Hiroshima atomic bomb survivor recounts
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Everyone was angry. 'When food went missing, the blame always came to us. We had no parents with us. No one to defend us.' Still, every Saturday, Katsuko and her sister made the long walk home to see their mother in the city. They would stay one night and return to their aunt's on Sunday evening. 'We cried. We begged her to let us stay. We said: 'Even if a bomb drops on us and we die, we want to die here with you.'' But fate, disguised as well-meaning neighbours, intervened. 'Our neighbours told us: 'If a bomb falls, your mother won't be able to escape with two children.' So we went back to the farm. That was the afternoon of Aug 5, 1945.' The next morning, Katsuko got up like it was any other school day. She made her way to class, unaware that a US bomber had already crossed the sky. By then, the city had grown used to the sound of American bombers. When the air raid sirens blared, people took cover. But that day, there were no sirens or warnings. Just the low thrum of a B-29 heavy bomber. That morning, with the adult male population sent to the front, children were mobilised to labour outside, tasked with demolition work, dismantling homes and making firebreaks. As the school bell rang, Katsuko stepped into her classroom. One of her classmates was playing by the window. Above their heads, something shimmered. A metallic glint against the morning sky, tumbling and spinning while the children outside stared. Many children were working outdoors to fill the wartime labour shortage when the bomb dropped, as shown in this survivor's drawing. At 8.15am, the atomic bomb detonated. Ten seconds later, a deafening boom split the city apart. The shockwave shattered the windows of the school, 3.5km from the hypocentre. 'My classmate who was playing by the window was shredded by shards of glass. Her blood sprayed like a fountain. 'The teacher picked her up in his arms and ran around the schoolyard in a panic. His face was pale, distorted with suffering.' The children didn't understand what had happened. They clung onto their teacher's clothes and followed. Katsuko's aunt arrived soon after and took them home. The students working outside that morning weren't as lucky. They were incinerated instantly. All that remained were their shadows, scorched into the ground as memorials to lives cut short. The search for mother That same morning, Katsuko's mother stayed home, 1.3km from ground zero, feeling slightly unwell. She was eating a late breakfast when the bomb fell. In an instant, the blast crushed the house around her. Trapped under splintered beams, she screamed until a neighbour clawed through the debris to rescue her. Worried about their mother, Katsuko's cousin offered to go look for her, armed only with a rucksack and a water bottle. But he was back in under ten minutes. The firestorms and the terrain made it impossible to reach the city. Three days passed before the flames quieted. Katsuko, her sister, and their aunt finally entered the city. When the smoke finally lifted, what lay beneath was nothing short of a hell made of bone and ash. 'We saw dead bodies everywhere. We couldn't even make out where the houses and fields had been. We found nothing but charred corpses,' Katsuko said. Eyewitnesses recalled seeing victims with their skin peeling from their fingertips, trailing like rags. 'Even the ones who were still alive, you couldn't tell if they were men or women. Their faces were swollen one and a half times the normal size. Their clothes had burned off.' After hours of searching, they turned back defeated. Nearly a week after the bomb fell, Katsuko's mother came to them on foot, through the radioactive rain and ruins. 'She looked okay at first, but her face was pale. So pale it was blue. I've never seen such colour on a person's face before. She tried to talk but just vomited blood.' Residents of Hiroshima called the bomb 'Pikadon' — 'pika' for the flash, 'don' for the boom. No one yet understood the bomb's true radioactive nature. 'She was dying. But then our father came home from the war, and they had the same blood type. There was a rumour that blood transfusion might help. So he gave his blood to her, every day.' Months later, in early winter, Katsuko and her sister were playing outside when they saw a figure on a bicycle. It was their father. On the back, their mother was alive, smiling. 'They told us every day that she would die the next day, but she lived. The rumour that blood transfusion helped was true.' But in the years that followed, her mother's body began to fail. She developed breast cancer, then lung cancer, and eventually tumours in her brain, to which she later succumbed. The long war The war officially ended on Aug 15, 1945, but the aftermath lasted decades. Food shortages continued, forcing families to sell their prized kimonos for rice. School resumed outdoors as there were no buildings. When it rained, classes were cancelled. Around 80,000 people were incinerated in an instant by the bomb. Estimates say nearly 200,000 had died later from its lingering effects. Even after witnessing the destruction of her city and the loss of friends, neighbours, and family, Katsuko, like so many survivors, chose not to hold hatred toward the Americans. 'None of my family members were seriously injured by the bomb itself, but we never received any compensation from the US. 'I didn't feel any resentment. Later on, I went to a missionary school. My teachers were American. They were kind people and good teachers. There's no use in hating them.' At 86, Katsuko believes the key to a long life isn't holding on to anger, but rising early, walking her dog and continuing to speak. What drives her is the hope that through awareness and testimony, others might finally understand the human toll of war. 'We've had more visitors from the US lately. It seems the belief that the bomb was a necessary evil is fading, even in the US. 'We should never have war again. There's nothing more stupid than war.'
Free Malaysia Today
2 days ago
- Free Malaysia Today
‘That's why he lived': a Malaysian survivor's memories of Hiroshima
Malayan citizen Abdul Razak Abdul Hamid in his Hiroshima University uniform, where he had been studying on scholarship in 1945. PETALING JAYA : The atomic bombs Thedropped by the United States on Japan tore through the fabric of time, ending World War II, ushering in the Atomic Age, and jolting the world into the Cold War. While world leaders struggled to process the shockwaves from Hiroshima and Nagasaki – before these events were etched into the annals of civilisation – countless victims on the ground experienced an immeasurably intense tragedy. 'I believe he was given a responsibility by God to survive and tell the story of what happened. That's why he lived,' said Dzulkifli Abdul Razak, recalling the story of his father, Abdul Razak Abdul Hamid – the only Malayan citizen to have survived the world's first nuclear disaster that claimed over 140,000 lives. Razak, then a 19-year-old student from Penang, had been on a scholarship from the Japanese government to study at Hiroshima University and was in a lecture room when the bomb went off. 'My father said at first, everything went pitch black. Then there was a flash, like lightning. Then black again. Only after that did the building collapse. The roof came down but didn't crush him. He was unconscious under that roof for a whole day.' Razak then woke up in what remained of the classroom, sunlight streaming through the rubble. 'He crawled out, following the sunlight, but could not recognise any of the buildings around him. It looked like a barren, desolate plain.' Hiroshima was left desolate, like a barren wasteland, after the atomic bomb. (AP pic) With his first instinct being to return to his lodgings, Razak headed towards a river near the campus that could guide him back to where he lived. Walking along that river opened his eyes to the consequences of that decision made in Washington that day. 'Bodies were scattered everywhere,' Dzulkifli said. 'Along the river, bodies had been swept downstream. People were suffering – and everyone was desperately thirsty. 'My father brought them water but, after they drank, they all died – either from radiation or the shock of the difference in temperature between the water and their bodies.' Dzulkifli remembers his father telling him that the clothing of survivors had been fused to their skin due to the intense heat. 'It was as if your body bore the pattern of the clothes you were wearing. 'Some people would pull at their own hair in agony and it would fall out.' Dzulkifli Abdul Razak, emeritus professor at Universiti Sains Malaysia, weaves his father's message into his storytelling. These horrifying memories were retold time and again by Razak – stories passed down to Dzulkifli, now emeritus professor at Universiti Sains Malaysia. 'Every Aug 6, my father would gather us siblings and retell what happened on the day the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima in 1945,' said Dzulkifli. Razak's connection to Japan never faded; after his return from Hiroshima, and especially after his story became known, their family home was rarely without visitors. 'Our house became like a site for visits. My mother would prepare traditional snacks, and guests would often bring gifts.' Razak died on July 18, 2013, less than two weeks after his 88th birthday. Photos and personal items that belonged to Abdul Razak are safely preserved by Dzulkifli's family. Dzulkifli describes his father as a deeply patient man whose stories always carried a message that still rings true today amidst ongoing political strife, racial rhetoric, and societal discord. 'Don't let our lives be filled with conflict,' Dzulkifli recalled his father's wise words. 'Yes, Malaysia is peaceful today without bombs exploding, but in the hearts and behaviours of some, the seeds of war still grow.' Two other Malayans – Nik Yusof Nik Ali and Syed Omar Syed Mohammad Alsagoff – had also been in Japan during the tragedy. They died at just 17 years old from radiation exposure while attempting to leave the campus. Nik Yusof was buried in Nagano, and Syed Omar in Kyoto.
The Star
3 days ago
- The Star
Unearthing Hiroshima's forgotten dead
Silent mission: Kayo taking a photo of Ninoshima Island from a ferry approaching the island. — Reuters Dozens of times a year, Rebun Kayo takes a ferry to a small island across from the port of Hiroshima in search of the remains of those killed by the atomic bomb 80 years ago. For the 47-year-old researcher, unearthing even the tiniest fragments on Ninoshima Island is a sobering reminder that the war is a reality that persists – buried, forgotten and unresolved. 'When we die, we are interred in places like temples or churches and bid farewell in a ceremony. That's the dignified way of being sent off,' said Kayo, a researcher at Hiroshima University's Center for Peace who spends his own time and money on the solo excavations. After the United States dropped the atomic bomb over Hiroshima on Aug 6, 1945, instantly killing about 78,000 people and injuring far more, Ninoshima, about 4km from the hypocentre, became a field hospital. Within weeks, some 10,000 victims, both dead and alive, were ferried across the water. Tireless work: Kayo chatting with a local resident while digging a hole at a site on Ninoshima Island. — Reuters Many perished soon after, and when cremations could not keep up, people were buried in mass graves. While many remains were unearthed in the decades following the war, witness accounts suggested there were more burial grounds. The son of a resident informed Kayo about one area on the island's northwestern coast in 2014 and from there, he saved up funds and began digging four years later. In searing heat last month, Kayo cut through overgrown brush to return to the spot where he had left off three weeks before. After an hour and a half of digging, he carefully picked out two thumbnail-sized bone fragments from the dirt – additions to the roughly 100 he has unearthed so far. Showing the bone fragments which he found. — Reuters Every discovery brings home to him the cruelty of war. The pain was never as raw as when Kayo found pieces of a young child's jaw and tooth earlier this year, he said. 'That hit me really hard,' he said. 'That child was killed by the bomb, knowing nothing about the world... I couldn't come to terms with it for a while, and that feeling still lingers.' One day, he plans to take all the fragments to a Buddhist temple, where they can be enshrined. Offering a prayer to the remains he has found. — Reuters Kayo's drive for repeating the gruelling task year after year is partly personal. Born in Okinawa, where some of the bloodiest battles during World War II were fought, Kayo himself has three relatives whose remains were never found. Volunteers still descend on Okinawa from all over Japan for excavations, and because the poison ivy in the forests there is prohibitive for him, Kayo returns the favour on Ninoshima instead. Kayo and local resident Yutaka Masumoto planting flowers at a site where the remains of atomic bomb victims were recovered in 2004, and which now serves as a flower park promoting peace. — Reuters As long as traces of the dead keep turning up, the war's proximity is palpable for Kayo. 'People today who don't know about the war focus only on the recovery, and they move the conversation forward while forgetting about these people here. 'And in the end, you'll have people saying, 'even if you drop an atomic bomb, you can recover'... There will always be people who try to justify it in a way that suits them.' — Reuters
