Memories of Nakajima Honmachi, Part 3
Jan. 1, 2009
by Masami Nishimoto, Senior Staff Writer
Fumio Sadamasa, 72, can still recite a speech by U.S. President Abraham Lincoln which advocates “freedom and equality.” “I learned that in school,” he explained. Mr. Sadamasa was born in the U.S. state of Seattle. In 1937, when he was 11, he and his brother and sister, who were American citizens at the time, came to Hiroshima with their mother to join their father. Hiroshima was his parents’ hometown.
Mr. Sadamasa and his family lived in Nakajima Honmachi, where his parents ran a grocery store named “Fujiya.” To enroll in school, he and his siblings had to become Japanese citizens. During that time, the Japanese army invaded China and relations between Japan and the U.S. gradually soured over dominion of the Pacific Ocean. Mr. Sadamasa’s family used only English at home and he could still touch the freedom and wealth of life in the U.S., where they had owned a car, through an American newspaper they received until the Pacific War broke out.
“I got used to the Japanese education system, in which the school puts students under its control,” said Mr. Sadamasa. “I began longing to be a military man.” After graduating from Hiroshima First Middle School (now Kokutaiji Senior High School), he enrolled in the Naval Paymasters’ College, which had been moved to the city of Kobe. Four months later, the atomic bomb exploded over Nakajima Honmachi, where his parents, older sister, and younger brother lived.
From the newspaper, which reported that “a new type of bomb was dropped,” he obtained fragmented information, but no news was available from his school. Mr. Sadamasa, who was 18 then, returned to Hiroshima after the war ended. On August 20, 1945, his train passed through the delta of the Otagawa River and stopped at Koi Station, where rows of houses still remained. He then met an acquaintance of his father.
Mr. Sadamasa learned from the man that his father Yoneo, 45, his mother Chiyoko, 39, and his sister Emiko, 20, who was a third-year student at Hiroshima Jogakuin College, were all killed in the bombing. The only comfort was the fact that his younger brother managed to survive and Mr. Sadamasa was able to locate him at his great-grandfather’s house. His brother, 15, was a third-year student at Hiroshima First Middle School and suffered burns from the bombing while dismantling houses near Tsurumi Bridge to create a firebreak, about 1.5 kilometers from the hypocenter.
Mr. Sadamasa’s brother Kazumi, 69, now lives in California. “When he comes back to Japan, he never visits this place. I don’t want to be reminded of the terrible memories, either, so I don’t even suggest it,” said Mr. Sadamasa, looking at the site of his parents’ home where trees now stand.
After the war, Mr. Sadamasa and Kazumi lived in a shack that they built using some insurance money their parents had left and Mr. Sadamasa went to work for the Japan National Railway (JNR) as an interpreter between the JNR and the occupying Allied Forces. Three years later, the two brothers, in order to survive, decided to live separately in Japan and in the U.S.
When I spoke with Kazumi by telephone, for a while he seemed to be groping for the right words to tell me something. Then he said: “The reason I returned to the U.S. is because I felt like my parents were encouraging me to live a new life. My first life ended with the atomic bombing.”
On the morning of the bombing, Kazumi left home with a box lunch his sister had made since his mother was feeling ill that day. After the blast, he received some basic first-aid and then hurried back from Hijiyama, crossing the Motoyasu River by boat. He passed through the grounds of Seiganji Temple (south of Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum) and by the east side of Honkawa Bridge, finally arriving at Nakajima Hondori street. He approached a woman in front of the Sano wholesale store and she told him, “Get out of here! Don’t worry about me!” When he reached the rubble of his house, he found only a man with his head submerged in the fire cistern. He sensed someone under the Aioi Bridge, but got no response to his call.
Kazumi Sadamasa is one of the very few A-bomb survivors who had a direct experience of the hypocenter area on August 6, 1945. As our conversation ended, he told me, “I hope no one ever has to experience what I did.” His older brother, Fumio Sadamasa, who lost everyone in his family except for Kazumi, said, “War must be eliminated from the world to stop such suffering.”
The tragedy of the atomic bomb is the tragedy of war itself. Two brothers, now living separately in Japan and in the U.S., experienced this first hand.
(Originally published on July 30, 1999)
Two brothers separated by the atomic bombing
Fumio Sadamasa, 72, can still recite a speech by U.S. President Abraham Lincoln which advocates “freedom and equality.” “I learned that in school,” he explained. Mr. Sadamasa was born in the U.S. state of Seattle. In 1937, when he was 11, he and his brother and sister, who were American citizens at the time, came to Hiroshima with their mother to join their father. Hiroshima was his parents’ hometown.
Mr. Sadamasa and his family lived in Nakajima Honmachi, where his parents ran a grocery store named “Fujiya.” To enroll in school, he and his siblings had to become Japanese citizens. During that time, the Japanese army invaded China and relations between Japan and the U.S. gradually soured over dominion of the Pacific Ocean. Mr. Sadamasa’s family used only English at home and he could still touch the freedom and wealth of life in the U.S., where they had owned a car, through an American newspaper they received until the Pacific War broke out.
“I got used to the Japanese education system, in which the school puts students under its control,” said Mr. Sadamasa. “I began longing to be a military man.” After graduating from Hiroshima First Middle School (now Kokutaiji Senior High School), he enrolled in the Naval Paymasters’ College, which had been moved to the city of Kobe. Four months later, the atomic bomb exploded over Nakajima Honmachi, where his parents, older sister, and younger brother lived.
From the newspaper, which reported that “a new type of bomb was dropped,” he obtained fragmented information, but no news was available from his school. Mr. Sadamasa, who was 18 then, returned to Hiroshima after the war ended. On August 20, 1945, his train passed through the delta of the Otagawa River and stopped at Koi Station, where rows of houses still remained. He then met an acquaintance of his father.
Mr. Sadamasa learned from the man that his father Yoneo, 45, his mother Chiyoko, 39, and his sister Emiko, 20, who was a third-year student at Hiroshima Jogakuin College, were all killed in the bombing. The only comfort was the fact that his younger brother managed to survive and Mr. Sadamasa was able to locate him at his great-grandfather’s house. His brother, 15, was a third-year student at Hiroshima First Middle School and suffered burns from the bombing while dismantling houses near Tsurumi Bridge to create a firebreak, about 1.5 kilometers from the hypocenter.
Mr. Sadamasa’s brother Kazumi, 69, now lives in California. “When he comes back to Japan, he never visits this place. I don’t want to be reminded of the terrible memories, either, so I don’t even suggest it,” said Mr. Sadamasa, looking at the site of his parents’ home where trees now stand.
After the war, Mr. Sadamasa and Kazumi lived in a shack that they built using some insurance money their parents had left and Mr. Sadamasa went to work for the Japan National Railway (JNR) as an interpreter between the JNR and the occupying Allied Forces. Three years later, the two brothers, in order to survive, decided to live separately in Japan and in the U.S.
When I spoke with Kazumi by telephone, for a while he seemed to be groping for the right words to tell me something. Then he said: “The reason I returned to the U.S. is because I felt like my parents were encouraging me to live a new life. My first life ended with the atomic bombing.”
On the morning of the bombing, Kazumi left home with a box lunch his sister had made since his mother was feeling ill that day. After the blast, he received some basic first-aid and then hurried back from Hijiyama, crossing the Motoyasu River by boat. He passed through the grounds of Seiganji Temple (south of Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum) and by the east side of Honkawa Bridge, finally arriving at Nakajima Hondori street. He approached a woman in front of the Sano wholesale store and she told him, “Get out of here! Don’t worry about me!” When he reached the rubble of his house, he found only a man with his head submerged in the fire cistern. He sensed someone under the Aioi Bridge, but got no response to his call.
Kazumi Sadamasa is one of the very few A-bomb survivors who had a direct experience of the hypocenter area on August 6, 1945. As our conversation ended, he told me, “I hope no one ever has to experience what I did.” His older brother, Fumio Sadamasa, who lost everyone in his family except for Kazumi, said, “War must be eliminated from the world to stop such suffering.”
The tragedy of the atomic bomb is the tragedy of war itself. Two brothers, now living separately in Japan and in the U.S., experienced this first hand.
(Originally published on July 30, 1999)
