Sarugaku-cho, neighborhood around A-bomb Dome, Part 8: Survived, endured hardship, blessed with five grandchildren
Aug. 1, 1997
The last breakfast for a mother and her child was four boiled potatoes. The boy briefly spoke to his 43-year-old mother, Masako, at their home at the address “45 Sarugaku-cho” and then left for school. The clock pointed to the exact time of 8:00 a.m.
Stayed at school for air defense-related tasks
Kazuyoshi Saeki, 67, of Yahata 2-chome in Hiroshima City’s Saeki Ward, struggled to recall “that morning,” August 6, 1945, but the only thing he could remember were his words, “I’m leaving.” He added, “No one could have foreseen” that it would be the sudden separation from his mother, as his words floated in the air.
His school at that time, Hiroshima First Middle School (present-day Kokutaiji High School), was located around 900 meters from the hypocenter. “The moment I sat down at my desk in the classroom, ‘Boom.’ Before I knew it, I was covered in blood,” Mr. Saeki said. Approximately 280 of his third-year schoolmates were at Toyo Kogyo (now, Mazda Motor Corporation), located in a suburb of the city. Due to a lung disease he had contracted at the beginning of spring, he was excused from the mobilization work and instead assigned air defense-related tasks at school.
He escaped the flames of fires that arose after the bombing by running over collapsed roofs. After being transported to Kanawajima Island in Hiroshima Bay, he landed by raft at Otake in between attacks by U.S. carrier-based aircraft. From there, he took a train and a bus to the town of Saeki-cho in the Saeki-gun district, Hiroshima Prefecture, where his grandmother and others had taken refuge. “I don’t remember exactly what day that was,” he said. He suffered acute effects of radiation exposure for some time, including hair loss, anemia, and vomiting, which even his doctors had a hard time watching.
His hair began to grow back in November of that year, when the chilly autumn winds started blowing, perhaps because the antibiotics the family had brought with them to their site of evacuation had finally starting to work. Once Mr. Saeki could get up and walk again, he searched in the ruins of his former family home, finding bones that appeared to be his mother’s next to a familiar brass kettle around since his childhood. “The bones could have been those of a customer, but I had no choice but to assume they were my mother’s.” Tome Tsubouchi, his 29-year-old aunt who was managing the family pharmacy, has also been missing since she went to help with building-demolition work that day.
“That’s when I began to go through hell.” Words began to burst forth like a torrent from a burst dam. “I had lost an eye and my parents were dead. Large companies gave me the cold shoulder, and smaller ones would ask for a guarantor. I fell pretty far behind everyone else.” The atomic bomb had robbed him of the sight in his left eye.
He graduated from school by even selling his own clothes. With a sidelong glance at his classmates advancing to higher education, he found a job in the sewing industry to make a living. Although the salary was low, he was able to live and work on the premises. When the Korean War broke out in 1950, he moved to Osaka, leaving his home of Hiroshima behind, because he saw no future for himself there.
Works to support elderly A-bomb survivors
“The social discrimination I faced was harder for me than nearly dying in the atomic bombing,” he said. He finally got a job at a major sewing machine company that offered bonuses and social security at the age of 35. At that time, Japan was experiencing a high rate of economic expansion, with an annual growth rate in the 10-percent range.
His experience sewing menswear proved valuable, and he was recognized as the company’s top salesperson numerous times. Beginning to have peace of mind, he asked the company for a transfer to his hometown of Hiroshima when he was 43. Mr. Saeki settled back in the hometown of his father, who had died when he was a child, moving there with his family of four from Osaka. With his two married daughters now living nearby, he is surrounded by five grandchildren, all girls. And he still works.
After retiring from the sewing machine company, he made a second career at a special nursing home for the elderly, which was originally established by a Christian organization for those who had lost family in the atomic bombing. He currently cares for 58 residents at night.
“I simply found the job at the public employment office. I guess I’m able to do the work because there’s not a lot of pressure,” said Mr. Saeki. While saying that, though, this summer, he was marking his seventh year working at the home.
(Originally published on August 1, 1997)
Stayed at school for air defense-related tasks
Kazuyoshi Saeki, 67, of Yahata 2-chome in Hiroshima City’s Saeki Ward, struggled to recall “that morning,” August 6, 1945, but the only thing he could remember were his words, “I’m leaving.” He added, “No one could have foreseen” that it would be the sudden separation from his mother, as his words floated in the air.
His school at that time, Hiroshima First Middle School (present-day Kokutaiji High School), was located around 900 meters from the hypocenter. “The moment I sat down at my desk in the classroom, ‘Boom.’ Before I knew it, I was covered in blood,” Mr. Saeki said. Approximately 280 of his third-year schoolmates were at Toyo Kogyo (now, Mazda Motor Corporation), located in a suburb of the city. Due to a lung disease he had contracted at the beginning of spring, he was excused from the mobilization work and instead assigned air defense-related tasks at school.
He escaped the flames of fires that arose after the bombing by running over collapsed roofs. After being transported to Kanawajima Island in Hiroshima Bay, he landed by raft at Otake in between attacks by U.S. carrier-based aircraft. From there, he took a train and a bus to the town of Saeki-cho in the Saeki-gun district, Hiroshima Prefecture, where his grandmother and others had taken refuge. “I don’t remember exactly what day that was,” he said. He suffered acute effects of radiation exposure for some time, including hair loss, anemia, and vomiting, which even his doctors had a hard time watching.
His hair began to grow back in November of that year, when the chilly autumn winds started blowing, perhaps because the antibiotics the family had brought with them to their site of evacuation had finally starting to work. Once Mr. Saeki could get up and walk again, he searched in the ruins of his former family home, finding bones that appeared to be his mother’s next to a familiar brass kettle around since his childhood. “The bones could have been those of a customer, but I had no choice but to assume they were my mother’s.” Tome Tsubouchi, his 29-year-old aunt who was managing the family pharmacy, has also been missing since she went to help with building-demolition work that day.
“That’s when I began to go through hell.” Words began to burst forth like a torrent from a burst dam. “I had lost an eye and my parents were dead. Large companies gave me the cold shoulder, and smaller ones would ask for a guarantor. I fell pretty far behind everyone else.” The atomic bomb had robbed him of the sight in his left eye.
He graduated from school by even selling his own clothes. With a sidelong glance at his classmates advancing to higher education, he found a job in the sewing industry to make a living. Although the salary was low, he was able to live and work on the premises. When the Korean War broke out in 1950, he moved to Osaka, leaving his home of Hiroshima behind, because he saw no future for himself there.
Works to support elderly A-bomb survivors
“The social discrimination I faced was harder for me than nearly dying in the atomic bombing,” he said. He finally got a job at a major sewing machine company that offered bonuses and social security at the age of 35. At that time, Japan was experiencing a high rate of economic expansion, with an annual growth rate in the 10-percent range.
His experience sewing menswear proved valuable, and he was recognized as the company’s top salesperson numerous times. Beginning to have peace of mind, he asked the company for a transfer to his hometown of Hiroshima when he was 43. Mr. Saeki settled back in the hometown of his father, who had died when he was a child, moving there with his family of four from Osaka. With his two married daughters now living nearby, he is surrounded by five grandchildren, all girls. And he still works.
After retiring from the sewing machine company, he made a second career at a special nursing home for the elderly, which was originally established by a Christian organization for those who had lost family in the atomic bombing. He currently cares for 58 residents at night.
“I simply found the job at the public employment office. I guess I’m able to do the work because there’s not a lot of pressure,” said Mr. Saeki. While saying that, though, this summer, he was marking his seventh year working at the home.
(Originally published on August 1, 1997)
