80 years later, you can still see the shadow of a Hiroshima bomb victim
At 8:15 a.m., someone was either standing or sitting on the steps of Sumitomo Bank when the Enola Gay, a U.S. Army Air Force plane, flew overhead and dropped an atomic bomb that detonated 1,900 feet above the city. Aerial view of the first atomic bombing of Hiroshima, Japan, on August 6, 1945. The Enola Gay dropped the bomb 1,900 feet over the city—unleashing an explosion of intense heat, light, and radiation that washed over the city in a fraction of a second. Photograph Courtesy U.S. Army, A.A.F. photo, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division This official U.S. Army photo shows the devastation in Hiroshima after the bomb. The explosion killed upwards of 80,000 people in a flash and thousands more would die in the subsequent days and months. Photograph Courtesy U.S. Army, Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division
That person likely died immediately, as the intense heat at the center of the blast would have been in excess of 7,000 degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough to swiftly kill anyone. But a shadowy imprint of their body was left scorched onto the stone steps.
And this mark wasn't alone: The intensity of the bomb created so-called nuclear shadows throughout the area on the ground beneath the explosion, as if freezing the city in time.
Now, 80 years after the bomb, Hiroshima's nuclear shadows remain a chilling, poignant testament to one of the most consequential days in human history.
The 10,000-pound atomic bomb that detonated over Hiroshima unleashed a massive amount of energy—the equivalent of around 15,000 tons of TNT—in a fraction of a second. That energy took the form of several things: light, heat, radiation, and pressure.
The explosion's intense heat washed over Hiroshima at a pace of 186,000 miles per second and was over as quickly as it had begun, according to the United States Strategic Bombing Survey, an official report on the effects of the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The explosion had flash-burned everything within 9,500 feet, charring trees and casting UV light so powerful that it bleached non-combustible surfaces like stone and concrete.
This process is what created the nuclear shadows—they aren't the remains of people and things that were destroyed in the blast but rather they were etched like a photo negative in places that had been protected from the destructive path of radiant heat and light.
Sumitomo Bank, only 260 meters from the bomb's hypocenter, was one of about 70,000 buildings in Hiroshima that the bomb damaged or obliterated. '[The bank's] reinforced concrete outer walls remained, but most of the interior was completely burned out,' says Ariyuki Fukushima, curator at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.
And while the bank's granite steps retained their shape, Fukushima points out that 'the intense heat rays from the atomic bomb caused them to become pale and discolored.' The person who had been on the steps during the explosion shielded a section of them from the heat rays, thus creating the shadow.
The same process created shadows of nails, ladders, and other objects on streets and buildings across the city. What Hiroshima's nuclear shadows reveal
While most of the nuclear shadows depict inanimate objects, a few of them are believed to represent people who were killed. For example, the Yorozuyo Bridge, 910 meters from the hypocenter, appeared to bear shadows of people who may have been on their way to work or school when they were killed. (The shadows are no longer visible on the bridge, which was later rebuilt.)
'Almost everyone who was within a kilometer was killed,' says Robert Jacobs, emeritus professor of history at the Hiroshima Peace Institute and Hiroshima City University. The shadow of a handle on a gasometer located two kilometers away from the hypocenter of the explosion left an imprint behind. The angle of the nuclear shadows left behind allow scientists who arrived in Hiroshima after Japan's surrender to locate the hypocenter of the explosion. Photograph by AFP, Getty Images
The explosion killed upwards of 80,000 people in a flash, and thousands more would die in the subsequent days and months.
Among the victims were workers inside Sumitomo Bank. Fukushima notes that only 'three individuals are known to have escaped,' though 'one of them died a few days later.'
These shadows also helped scientists solve one major question when they descended on Hiroshima in early September 1945, shortly after Japan's surrender, to study the weapon's effects. The angle of the shadows 'enabled observers to determine the direction toward the center of explosion,' allowing them to locate the bomb's hypocenter 'with considerable accuracy.' The legacy of Hiroshima's nuclear shadows
Although we'll never know the stories of those who were killed in the bomb's hypocenter, their shadow endures. In 1971, Sumitomo Bank donated its steps to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, where the silhouette remains a haunting symbol of what happened 80 years ago. It is believed to be one of the only remaining nuclear shadows of a person.
Indeed, many of the shadows no longer exist given the decades of rebuilding that the city had to do in the wake of the bombing. Still, Jacobs says the shadows remind us of 'the impermanence of humans and civilization.'
'If a person could be reduced to their shadow by a weapon, […] that carries a profoundly existential message to human beings—you and your whole world could be gone in the blink of an eye.'
The shadows are also a solemn reminder of the horrors people faced that day in Hiroshima. The white shadow of a man remains on the surface of a bridge in Hiroshima. As the city rebuilt after the bombing, many of the nuclear shadows on its buildings and sidewalks were lost. One famous exception are the Sumitomo Bank steps, which were donated to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Photograph by Keystone-France, Gamma-Keystone/ Getty Images
While walking through the ruined city minutes after the bombing, photographer Yoshito Matsushige encountered children who had evacuated their school just before the explosion.
'Having been directly exposed to the heat rays, they were covered with blisters, the size of balls, on their backs, their faces, their shoulders and their arms,' he later recalled. 'The blisters were starting to burst open and their skin hung down like rugs.'
These scenes were so horrific that Matsushige couldn't bear to take any photographs. When he 'finally summoned up the courage to take one picture' and then another, he realized 'the view finder was clouded over with my tears.'
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Washington Post
11 hours ago
- Washington Post
‘The light filled my head': An oral history of the Hiroshima bombing
This oral history is adapted from Garrett M. Graff's book 'The Devil Reached Toward the Sky: An Oral History of the Making and Unleashing of the Atomic Bomb,' which published on Tuesday. Eighty years ago today, on Aug. 6, 1945, a B-29 bomber named the Enola Gay took off from Tinian Island, in the Northern Mariana Islands, for a mission that its flight crew knew would make history. It belonged to the 509th Composite Group, a unit that had been created and trained in secret for some nine months for the sole purpose of dropping the world's first atomic bomb. In addition to the Enola Gay, which carried the bomb itself, the mission involved several other B-29s, including the weather reconnaissance plane Straight Flush, the camera plane Necessary Evil and the Great Artiste, which carried scientific observers from Project Alberta, the forward-deployed science component of the Manhattan Project. The Enola Gay's commander and lead pilot for the mission, Col. Paul W. Tibbets, was barely 30 years old. Though Tibbets had known the secret of the Manhattan Project since its start, many of the Enola Gay crew learned the phrase 'atomic bomb' only when they gathered for the August mission itself. This oral history is based on archives and books from three continents and more than 100 first-hand memoirs, as well as government reports, testimonies, speeches and memories from reunions of the 509th Composite Group. Times aboard the plane are given in Chamorro Standard Time, the time zone of the base in the Northern Mariana Islands, while Japan Standard Time was an hour earlier. Quotes have been edited for clarity and concision. Maj. Charles W. Sweeney, co-pilot of the Great Artiste: I lit my Cuban Romeo y Julieta and settled back for the three-hour flight to the rendezvous. There was little chitchat. The crew tried to catch some shut-eye. The atmosphere on board was relaxed. Not loose, but tension-free. Relaxed in the way that any group of professionals is when its members are carrying out a job they're supremely trained to do and confident in their abilities. Col. Paul W. Tibbets, lead pilot of the Enola Gay: We were only eight minutes off the ground when Capt. William S. 'Deak' Parsons and Lt. Morris R. Jeppson lowered themselves into the bomb bay to insert a slug of uranium and the conventional explosive charge into the core of the strange-looking weapon. I wondered why we were calling it ''Little Boy.' Little Boy was 28 inches in diameter and 12 feet long. Its weight was a little more than 9,000 pounds. With its coat of dull gunmetal paint, it was an ugly monster. Lt. Morris R. Jeppson, crew member of the Enola Gay: Parsons was second-in-command of the military in the Manhattan Project. The Little Boy weapon was Parsons's design. He was greatly concerned that B-29s loaded with conventional bombs were crashing at the ends of runways on Tinian during takeoff and that such an event could cause the U-235 projectile in the gun of Little Boy to fly down the barrel and into the U-235 target. This could have caused a low-level nuclear explosion on Tinian. Tibbets: Parsons, who knew just about all there was to know about the workings of our bomb, having participated in its development, was blunt and convincing as he spoke of the risks. 'If we crack up and the plane catches fire,' he said, 'there is danger of an atomic explosion that could wipe out half of this island.' Jeppson: On his own, Parsons decided that he would go on the Hiroshima mission and that he would load the gun after the Enola Gay was well away from Tinian. Tibbets: That way, if we crashed, we would lose only the airplane and crew, himself included. Jeppson: This was done, I believe, at about 7,000 feet altitude. Tibbets: Jeppson held the flashlight while Parsons struggled with the mechanism of the bomb, inserting the explosive charge that would send one block of uranium flying into the other to set off the instant chain reaction that would create the atomic explosion. Jeppson: After returning to the cabin, I periodically monitored the circuits in the bomb. Capt. Robert A. Lewis, co-pilot of the Enola Gay: At 45 minutes out of our base, everyone is at work. Tibbets has been hard at work with the usual tasks that belong to the pilot of a B-29. Capt. Theodore 'Dutch' Van Kirk, navigator, and Sgt. Joseph S. Stiborik, radar operator, are in continuous conversation (on the interphone), as they are shooting bearings on the northern Marianas and making radar wind runs. Tibbets: In the cockpit, I found it a good time to catch some sleep. After less than an hour of fitful but useful slumber, I was back at the controls. We ascended gradually from 4,600 to 5,500 feet. Then, at 5:34 a.m., I began our climb in earnest. Twenty minutes later, we reached our new cruising altitude of 9,300 feet. Through broken clouds ahead, the island of Iwo Jima came into view. Sweeney: It was about 5:45 when we caught sight of Iwo. Lt. Jacob Beser, radar specialist aboard the Enola Gay: It was here we would rendezvous with the other two airplanes. Tibbets: In all, seven planes would be taking part in the mission. Two would accompany me, one with scientific instruments to measure the intensity of the blast and another with photographic equipment to make a pictorial record of the event. Then there would be a standby plane, which would land at Iwo Jima for use in case the bomb-carrying plane ran into mechanical trouble. [Editor's note: The three other planes scouted the weather in Hiroshima and two backup targets.] Sweeney: Rising prominently above the island was Mount Suribachi. Technical Sgt. George R. Caron and I slipped in behind Tibbets in formation on each of his wings as he circled Suribachi. As I looked to the east, I saw the sun emerging above the horizon, a huge red ball rising up from the ocean. Tibbets: As we took leave of Iwo Jima, we were slightly more than three hours away from our target. Our target? We weren't sure at this time where we were going. It would be one of three: Hiroshima, Kokura or Nagasaki. Beser: As we neared Japan, I began to detect the familiar Japanese early warning radar. Soon it was locked on us. Then another radar picked us up. At the same time, but on different frequencies that we shared with the Navy, I detected considerable activity off the coast. The U.S. 5th Fleet was in full operation that morning, and the radio chatter of the pilots made fascinating listening. Luis Alvarez, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: Approaching the coast, we donned flak suits and arranged flak mattresses to sit on. I decided not to wear a parachute; if we were shot down, I didn't want to be captured. Tibbets: On this stage of the flight, I was smoking my pipe with a little more intensity than usual. Lewis: After leaving Iwo Jima, we began to pick up some low strata[clouds], and before very long we were flying on top of an undercast. At 7:10, the undercast began to break up just a little, but, outside of a high thin cirrus and the low stuff, it is a very beautiful day. We are now about two hours from 'bombs away.' Capt. Theodore 'Dutch' Van Kirk, navigator aboard the Enola Gay: I could see the weather was perfect. Sweeney: The sky was crystal clear. Capt. James F. Van Pelt, navigator aboard the Great Artiste: There were a few clouds over the water, but I can't remember any day I spent in the Pacific when it was more perfect for flying than it was on Aug. 6. Van Kirk: I could see the coastline of Japan from probably a hundred miles away at that altitude. I could pick out the city of Hiroshima from 75 miles away at least. Tibbets: The next hour was one of suspense as we droned toward the enemy homeland. Without waiting for the weather word, I climbed slowly toward what was to be our bombing altitude of 30,700 feet. Beser: The decision was made, then and there on the Enola Gay, to go to Hiroshima. Tibbets: Considering the historical importance of the event, it seemed hardly fitting to announce that the world's first atomic bomb had been dropped from an unnamed B-29 bearing the number 82. The B-17 I flew in Europe and North Africa was named the Red Gremlin. Most of the planes in the 509th had been given names such as Claude Eatherly's Straight Flush, Sweeney's Great Artiste and Frederick Bock's Bockscar. My thoughts turned at this moment to my courageous red-haired mother. Her name, Enola Gay, was pleasing to the ear. It was also unique, for I had never heard of anyone else named Enola. It would be a fine name for my plane. Several of my crew members, who had become acquainted with mother on her visit to Wendover Air Force base, gave hearty approval. Sgt. Gillon T. Niceley, tail gunner aboard Straight Flush: On our trip to and from Hiroshima, we mostly listened to Tokyo Rose, discussed the mission and, I being in the tail, watched for enemy planes or anything that didn't seem natural. Tibbets: At 7:30, Parsons made some adjustments on the console that controlled the bomb's intricate circuitry. He informed us that the bomb was armed and ready. Lewis: The bomb is now alive. It is a funny feeling knowing it is right in back of you. Knock wood. Van Kirk: We went in across the island [Shokuku] across the inland sea to just west of Hiroshima where he turned on the IP — the initial point. We were supposed to drop at 9:15, so I thought, well, I'm gonna try to get as close as possible. I extended the IP a little bit to use up a little more time. Lewis: It is 8:50. Not long now, folks. Van Pelt: The Colonel turned on course for a bomb run on Hiroshima. We were all getting very tense. The minutes seemed like hours. Tibbets: Although I was sure this was our target, there were other cities in the area and I wanted my judgment corroborated. I remembered a pharmacist of my acquaintance who always required an assistant to verify the label on every bottle before mixing a prescription. 'Do you all agree that's Hiroshima?' I asked the other crewmen. They promptly concurred. Van Pelt: Finally, the Colonel opened his bomb-bay doors. We could see Hiroshima ahead and below us. It is located on the waterfront of Honshu Island with seven rivers and an old castle in the center very near our target. Tibbets: The T-shaped bridge was easy to spot. Even though there were many other bridges in this sprawling city, there was no other bridge that even slightly resembled it. Van Pelt: A bombardier could not ask for a more perfect day. Van Kirk: It's one of the easiest missions that ever flew in my life — much easier than flying over Germany, 'cause the Japanese weren't shooting at us. Tibbets: At 17 seconds after 9:14, just 60 seconds before the scheduled bomb release, he flicked a toggle switch that activated a high-pitched radio tone. This tone, ominous under the circumstances, sounded in the headphones of the men aboard our plane and the two airplanes that were with us; it was also heard by the men in the three weather planes, which were already more than 200 miles away on their return flight to Tinian. Exactly one minute after it began, the radio tone ceased, and at the same instant there was the sound of the pneumatic bomb-bay doors opening automatically. Lawrence H. Johnston, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: We heard the wind rushing as the bomb-bay doors on our plane opened. Beser: At precisely 08:15:15 Hiroshima time, the tone signal stopped. Tibbets: Out tumbled Little Boy, a misnamed package of explosive force infinitely more devastating than any bomb — or cluster of bombs — ever dropped before. Beser: The bomb was on its way. Tibbets: With the release of the bomb, the plane was instantly 9,000 pounds lighter. As a result, its nose leaped up sharply, and I had to act quickly to execute the most important task of the flight: putting as much distance as possible between our plane and the point at which the bomb would explode. The 155-degree diving turn to the right, with its 160-degree bank, put a great strain on the airplane and its occupants. I was flying this biggest of all bombers as if it were a fighter plane. Van Kirk: We made the turn that we had practiced many, many times in how to get away from the bomb — 155-degree turn and put the nose down, pushed the throttles forward, just run like the devil. Alvarez: The bomb took 43 seconds to drop 30,000 feet to its detonation point, our three parachute gauges drifting down above. For half that time, we were diving away in a two-G turn. Before we leveled off and flew directly away, we saw the calibration pulses that indicated our equipment was working well. Jeppson: We had been cautioned not to look back at the bomb explosion and to wear welders' goggles. The plane jerked up as usual when the heavy Little Boy was released. I counted the seconds to myself. I believe I had calculated it would take about 43 seconds to reach either the ground or the planned detonation elevation above the ground. For a second I thought, 'It didn't work; it must be a dud.' I had been told by [Project Alberta team leader] Ed Doll before the flight, 'This bomb cost $2 billion; don't lose it.' Alvarez: Suddenly, a bright flash lit the compartment. The pressure pulse registered its N-shape wave on our screens. Sweeney: The sky was bleached a bright white, brighter than the sun. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, but the light filled my head. Johnston: A white flash coming up through our small window made a bright disk on the ceiling of the plane that faded to orange. Tibbets: Caron, the only man aboard the plane with an immediate view of the awesome havoc we had created, tried to describe it to us. Suddenly, he saw the shock wave approaching at the speed of sound — almost 1,100 feet a second. Condensing moisture from the heated air at the leading edge of the shock wave made it quite visible, just as one sees shimmering air rising from the ground on a hot, humid day. Johnston: We felt a double jolt as the shock wave hit our plane. Tibbets: There was a startling sensation that I remember quite vividly to this day. My teeth told me, more emphatically than my eyes, of the Hiroshima explosion. At the moment of the blast, there was a tingling sensation in my mouth and the very definite taste of lead upon my tongue. This, I was told later by scientists, was the result of electrolysis — an interaction between the fillings in my teeth and the radioactive forces that were loosed by the bomb. Sweeney: My tail gunner, Pappy Dehart, began uttering gibberish over the intercom. In combat, a gunner has to report what he sees precisely, distinctly and once, and then wait for the pilot's acknowledgment. Pappy, an experienced gunner, was now running over his own words, his alarm garbling what he was saying. I tried to break in. 'Pappy, say again.' I soon realized that Pappy was trying to describe a sight no human being had ever seen. Harold Agnew, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: I wrote in my notebook, 'It really went off, it really did.' Sgt. Raymond Gallagher, assistant flight engineer on the Great Artiste: What all of us saw was something that I don't think we will ever see, and hope to never see, the rest of our life. Technical Sgt. George R. Caron, tail gunner on the Enola Gay: Everything was burning. I saw fires springing up in different places, like flames shooting up on a bed of coals. I was asked to count them. I said, 'Count them?' Hell, I gave up! Sweeney: Hiroshima now lay to the west, on the right side of my airplane. I looked down and saw a roiling, dirty brown cloud spreading out horizontally over the city. Out of it was emerging a vertical cloud that looked like it contained every color of the rainbow, and more. The colors were vivid — hard to describe — some I had never seen before. Tibbets: The giant purple mushroom had already risen to a height of 45,000 feet, 3 miles above our own altitude, and was still boiling upward like something terribly alive. It was a frightening sight, and even though we were several miles away, it gave the appearance of something that was about to engulf us. Sweeney: As it gained altitude, a huge white mushroom shape formed at the top. Tibbets: Even more fearsome was the sight on the ground below. At the base of the cloud, fires were springing up everywhere amid a turbulent mass of smoke that had the appearance of bubbling hot tar. Lewis: My God, what have we done? Van Kirk: All we could see at the city of Hiroshima was black smoke, dust, looked like a pot of boiling oil covering a city. We flew around in the southeast quadrant of the city to see what we could observe. Couldn't see anything because of the smoke dust. So we turned around and went home. Lewis: Even when the plane was going in the opposite direction, the flames were still terrific. The area of the town looked as though it was torn apart. I have never seen anything like it — never seen anything like it. When we turned our ship so we could observe results, there in front of our eyes was without a doubt the greatest explosion man had ever seen. We were struck dumb at the sight. It far exceeded all our expectations. Tibbets: If Dante had been with us in the plane, he would have been terrified! A feeling of shock and horror swept over all of us. Capt. William S. 'Deak' Parsons, Manhattan Project ordnance director aboard the Enola Gay: It was a terrific spectacle. The huge dust cloud covered everything. The base of the lower part of the mushroom, a mass of purplish-gray dust about three miles in diameter, was all boiling — the entire area was boiling. The purple clouds and flames were whirling around. It seemed as though the whole town got pulverized. Alvarez: After we secured our equipment, we left our cramped quarters and looked out the window for the first time over Japan. By then Sweeney was heading back toward Hiroshima, and the top of the mushroom cloud had reached our altitude. I looked in vain for the city that had been our target. The cloud seemed to be rising out of a wooded area devoid of population. I thought the bombardier had missed the city by miles — had dumped Ernest's precious bomb out in the empty countryside — and I wondered how we would ever explain such a failure to him. Sweeney shortly dispelled my doubts. The aiming had been excellent. 2nd Lt. Russell E. Gackenbach, navigator aboard Necessary Evil: There was almost complete silence on the flight deck. It was evident the city of Hiroshima was destroyed.
NBC News
15 hours ago
- NBC News
80 years later, Hiroshima bombing survivors warn of new nuclear warfare
HIROSHIMA, Japan — For more than half a century, chimes have rung out across the Japanese city of Hiroshima every morning at exactly 8:15. The solemn ritual marks the precise moment Aug. 6, 1945, when the U.S. bomber Enola Gay dropped the world's first atomic bomb over Hiroshima, killing about 70,000 people instantly. On Wednesday, people in Hiroshima commemorated the 80th anniversary of the devastating attack, as nuclear fears mount globally amid unresolved military conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East. In a one-minute silent tribute, the city remembered the widescale death and destruction caused by the 10,000-pound bomb, which created a huge mushroom cloud that rose to more than 60,000 feet. 'It is our duty to convey the reality of the atomic bombings not only to the people of Japan but also to the people of the world,' Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba said in a speech. Initially meant to strike a T-shaped bridge, the bomb veered instead toward an exhibition hall with a distinctive dome, which after the explosion was the only building still standing within a 1-mile radius. The blast unleashed a whirlwind of fire and force, incinerating thousands of people. Then came the radioactive black rain, which fell over the city, silently poisoning countless more. Teruko Yahata was 8 years old at the time. Yahata, who is now in her 80s, says she still has a scar from when she was hurled by the blast. Fearing another bomb, she huddled under a blanket with her family. 'I didn't really understand what it meant to die,' Yahata said, 'but the warmth I felt at us dying together … I still remember to this day.' Three days after bombing Hiroshima, the U.S. unleashed a second atomic bomb on the city of Nagasaki that killed another 40,000 people immediately. The unprecedented bombings hastened Imperial Japan's surrender and the end of World War II, most historians say, though at the price of nearly a quarter-million lives. From the ashes, Hiroshima was rebuilt into a busy city of more than a million people, drawing tourists from around the world. Near the hypocenter, where the bomb detonated about 2,000 feet above, is a peace memorial park and museum that includes the iconic atomic dome. Using virtual reality headsets, visitors can immerse themselves in the bombing and its brutal aftermath while touring the park. Yet, the bombing still feels visceral to Hiroshima survivors, who are called hibakusha, or 'bomb affected persons.' Now more than 86 years old on average, they have spent most of their lives struggling with illness, depression and discrimination. Kunihiko Iida, whose father was killed in the war and whose mother and older sister died shortly after the bombing, is now 83, defying predictions that he would not live to the age of 20. Those who say the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki saved lives, he said, 'don't know the reality of a nuclear bomb.' Last year, the work of Japanese survivors' group Nihon Hidankyo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Toshiyuki Mimaki, the group's co-chair, is among those advocating nuclear disarmament and making sure that Hiroshima is neither forgotten nor repeated. 'We're in a very dangerous situation with Russia, Ukraine, Israel, Iran,' he said. 'Even a single nuclear bomb would mean disaster.' According to the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), the world's nine nuclear-armed states — Russia, the United States, China, France, Britain, India, Pakistan, Israel and North Korea — spent more than $100 billion on nuclear weapons last year, up 11% from 2023. The increase in spending on nuclear weapons contrasts with public attitudes about them. In a June survey of Americans by the Pew Research Center, 69% of respondents said the development of nuclear weapons had made the world less safe, compared with 10% who said it had made the world safer. Nearly 70% of Japan's atomic bomb survivors believe nuclear weapons could be used again, according to a poll this year by Japanese news agency Kyodo News. Hiroshima survivor Setsuko Thurlow, 93, lost 10 members of her family in the bombing. She said she remembered seeing a procession of people fleeing to the hillside who 'looked like ghosts.' 'Everybody's hair was just standing up, raised upwards, and the skin and the flesh was coming off from the bones,' she said. Thurlow, who went to the U.S. to study in 1954 — the same year the U.S. tested a hydrogen bomb 1,000 times more powerful than the one that destroyed Hiroshima — has spent her life campaigning for nuclear disarmament, accepting the Nobel Peace Prize in 2017 on behalf of ICAN. 'I beg world leaders to stop and come to the negotiation table. Diplomacy needs to have greater attention,' she said in a video interview from Toronto. 'It's not nuclear weapons, but diplomacy, exchange of words and ideas.' The number of hibakusha is dwindling, raising fears that living memory of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings will soon be gone. As of the end of March, there were 99,130 survivors nationwide, according to the Japanese newspaper Asahi Shimbun. Responsibility for remembering is being taken up by young people such as 12-year-old Shun Sasaki, who has been giving foreign visitors free guided tours of Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park since he was 7. Sasaki said that even though his great-grandmother was among those killed in the bombing, for a long time his family barely acknowledged it. 'The scariest thing that might happen in the future is to forget what happened a long time ago,' Sasaki said. 'I don't want anyone to have the same experience as my great-grandmother.' Sasaki's is not the only family that has avoided talking about that day. More than 70% of the respondents in the Kyodo poll said they had never spoken about their experiences. Even so, some feel it is their duty to speak up. 'As long as I live, I want to continue telling,' Yahata said. 'I'm a survivor.'
National Geographic
a day ago
- National Geographic
80 years later, you can still see the shadow of a Hiroshima bomb victim
In the wake of the blast, these eerie shadows were left etched into surfaces across the city—almost like a photo negative of those who were lost. When the atomic bomb detonated over Hiroshima, it left behind haunting reminders of people who died in the August 1945 blast. Whoever stood on the steps of Sumitomo Bank at the time of the blast created a shield of sorts against the radiant light and heat that bleached everything in its path. Photograph by Universal History Archive, UniversalIt was business as usual in the morning of August 6, 1945, in Hiroshima, Japan. In the city's financial district, bankers prepared for the day and customers queued up to deposit money or apply for a loan. At 8:15 a.m., someone was either standing or sitting on the steps of Sumitomo Bank when the Enola Gay, a U.S. Army Air Force plane, flew overhead and dropped an atomic bomb that detonated 1,900 feet above the city. Aerial view of the first atomic bombing of Hiroshima, Japan, on August 6, 1945. The Enola Gay dropped the bomb 1,900 feet over the city—unleashing an explosion of intense heat, light, and radiation that washed over the city in a fraction of a second. Photograph Courtesy U.S. Army, A.A.F. photo, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division This official U.S. Army photo shows the devastation in Hiroshima after the bomb. The explosion killed upwards of 80,000 people in a flash and thousands more would die in the subsequent days and months. Photograph Courtesy U.S. Army, Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division That person likely died immediately, as the intense heat at the center of the blast would have been in excess of 7,000 degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough to swiftly kill anyone. But a shadowy imprint of their body was left scorched onto the stone steps. And this mark wasn't alone: The intensity of the bomb created so-called nuclear shadows throughout the area on the ground beneath the explosion, as if freezing the city in time. Now, 80 years after the bomb, Hiroshima's nuclear shadows remain a chilling, poignant testament to one of the most consequential days in human history. The 10,000-pound atomic bomb that detonated over Hiroshima unleashed a massive amount of energy—the equivalent of around 15,000 tons of TNT—in a fraction of a second. That energy took the form of several things: light, heat, radiation, and pressure. The explosion's intense heat washed over Hiroshima at a pace of 186,000 miles per second and was over as quickly as it had begun, according to the United States Strategic Bombing Survey, an official report on the effects of the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The explosion had flash-burned everything within 9,500 feet, charring trees and casting UV light so powerful that it bleached non-combustible surfaces like stone and concrete. This process is what created the nuclear shadows—they aren't the remains of people and things that were destroyed in the blast but rather they were etched like a photo negative in places that had been protected from the destructive path of radiant heat and light. Sumitomo Bank, only 260 meters from the bomb's hypocenter, was one of about 70,000 buildings in Hiroshima that the bomb damaged or obliterated. '[The bank's] reinforced concrete outer walls remained, but most of the interior was completely burned out,' says Ariyuki Fukushima, curator at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. And while the bank's granite steps retained their shape, Fukushima points out that 'the intense heat rays from the atomic bomb caused them to become pale and discolored.' The person who had been on the steps during the explosion shielded a section of them from the heat rays, thus creating the shadow. The same process created shadows of nails, ladders, and other objects on streets and buildings across the city. What Hiroshima's nuclear shadows reveal While most of the nuclear shadows depict inanimate objects, a few of them are believed to represent people who were killed. For example, the Yorozuyo Bridge, 910 meters from the hypocenter, appeared to bear shadows of people who may have been on their way to work or school when they were killed. (The shadows are no longer visible on the bridge, which was later rebuilt.) 'Almost everyone who was within a kilometer was killed,' says Robert Jacobs, emeritus professor of history at the Hiroshima Peace Institute and Hiroshima City University. The shadow of a handle on a gasometer located two kilometers away from the hypocenter of the explosion left an imprint behind. The angle of the nuclear shadows left behind allow scientists who arrived in Hiroshima after Japan's surrender to locate the hypocenter of the explosion. Photograph by AFP, Getty Images The explosion killed upwards of 80,000 people in a flash, and thousands more would die in the subsequent days and months. Among the victims were workers inside Sumitomo Bank. Fukushima notes that only 'three individuals are known to have escaped,' though 'one of them died a few days later.' These shadows also helped scientists solve one major question when they descended on Hiroshima in early September 1945, shortly after Japan's surrender, to study the weapon's effects. The angle of the shadows 'enabled observers to determine the direction toward the center of explosion,' allowing them to locate the bomb's hypocenter 'with considerable accuracy.' The legacy of Hiroshima's nuclear shadows Although we'll never know the stories of those who were killed in the bomb's hypocenter, their shadow endures. In 1971, Sumitomo Bank donated its steps to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, where the silhouette remains a haunting symbol of what happened 80 years ago. It is believed to be one of the only remaining nuclear shadows of a person. Indeed, many of the shadows no longer exist given the decades of rebuilding that the city had to do in the wake of the bombing. Still, Jacobs says the shadows remind us of 'the impermanence of humans and civilization.' 'If a person could be reduced to their shadow by a weapon, […] that carries a profoundly existential message to human beings—you and your whole world could be gone in the blink of an eye.' The shadows are also a solemn reminder of the horrors people faced that day in Hiroshima. The white shadow of a man remains on the surface of a bridge in Hiroshima. As the city rebuilt after the bombing, many of the nuclear shadows on its buildings and sidewalks were lost. One famous exception are the Sumitomo Bank steps, which were donated to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Photograph by Keystone-France, Gamma-Keystone/ Getty Images While walking through the ruined city minutes after the bombing, photographer Yoshito Matsushige encountered children who had evacuated their school just before the explosion. 'Having been directly exposed to the heat rays, they were covered with blisters, the size of balls, on their backs, their faces, their shoulders and their arms,' he later recalled. 'The blisters were starting to burst open and their skin hung down like rugs.' These scenes were so horrific that Matsushige couldn't bear to take any photographs. When he 'finally summoned up the courage to take one picture' and then another, he realized 'the view finder was clouded over with my tears.'
