First Into Nagasaki (8 page)

(It is the baked apple, though the visitor does not know this, which has really bewitched them. This baked apple is more than remarkable; it is historical. It is the only baked apple ever seen at Camp #17 in two years.)

The inspector has now seen the camp. But he must not go away without talking to one or two individual prisoners. So he is led to the Japanese headquarters, he is settled in the comfortable chair of the commandant, and several handpicked Americans are brought to him. The room is full of Japanese military and police; the only non-Japanese are the prisoner and the Red Cross man.

“We were selected for health, first,” Sergeant Joe Lawson of Klamath Falls explains it. “Then, when they knew the inspector was at the railroad station, they double-timed us to a bath, clean clothes and a shave. We went in that room and only needed to look around at the familiar faces to know what we were up against. We’d had plenty of stickwork done on us already. We knew that to get plenty more, all we needed to do was open our mouths.”

Now the last monosyllabic prisoner has walked out. The inspector rises. It is all over. Everybody is smiling. Nobody has said or heard anything disagreeable or discordant. Even the prisoners back in their quarters are happy in a way, for their fears that the visitor would ask penetrating questions and make it impossible for them to conceal the truth have been dispelled. The lie is still intact. How cheerful everyone is! Captain Fukuhara—on whose hands is the blood of five Americans beaten and starved to death in the
aeso,
the guardhouse—is geniality itself. He suggests a photograph to perpetuate the occasion. His lieutenants take up the proposal with an acclaim like bacchantes. A picture, a photograph of everybody! We must have it!

A table is decorated with cigarettes, cookies and fruit from the mess of the
kempeitai,
the military police. A Japanese Cecil Beaton runs around, all dithery excitement until he finds what he wants to put on the table with the edibles: a trumpet, a harmonica and a guitar. A suggestion is made that some of the irreproachable prisoners might be summoned back to get in the picture, but the picture is too crowded already, and the suggestion falls flat . . . . “All smile, prease!”(It is a little joke, for the fussy photographer to use the language of the prisoners, and all smile at it.) “Sank you! All finish!”

The military motorcar is waiting for the Red Cross man. Perhaps, in this last moment of shaking hands, he may be troubled by some inner doubts. But there is no time to sift them. He must hurry off, for he is to catch the train for Moji, connecting with the express for Tokyo. See you next year!

If he had seen the prisoners the next day, instead, the inspector would have learned more. If his officer escort would allow him to get off at the first station, turn around and go back to the camp, the inspector might see how the pageant of his welcome, as insubstantial as Prospero’s, faded into nothingness as soon as he left.

What has happened in the camp? The pyramids of Red Cross packages are demolished. The boxes are in Captain Fukuhara’s closet, and the key is in his pocket. The cans of fish and pears have disappeared. Gone, too, are the white sheets from the hospital beds; where, nobody knows. The little nurses are climbing into their truck to be taken back to the local hospital in Omuta, swans never seen before in camp, unlikely to be seen again. The
Daily News Bulletin
is gone without a trace from the notice board, and a
kempeitai
is frowningly nailing back the punishment schedule. In the kitchen the Navy cook, Woodie Whitworth of Bourne, Texas, is preparing supper. The menu is the same as usual: one-half bowlful of plain rice, laced with millet to make it cheaper.

A column of prisoners dressed for work, with cap-lamps and sweat rags, is marching past the god of the mine.
^*
As their guards command them, they all bow to his exalted, unsmiling image. These miners are the extras of the benefit performance, who were patients in the hospital until a few minutes ago.

Having arrived at the entrance shaft they adjust their lamps for the last time, hug their mess-gear full of cold rice, climb into the roller coaster–like iron train and hold on. The cable starts moving. The train slides down the slanting chute into the sooty, echoing tunnel. For a while its roar is loud, but soon it dies away. After five minutes or so a bell rings. The cable slows, tightens, and finally stops. The patients from the hospital have reached their normal level of operation, 1,440 feet below ground. The sideshow is over. The Mitsui show is on once more.

Omuta, Japan—Wednesday, September 12, 1945

Allied Prison Camp #25, Omuta, Kyushu

The atomic bomb, seen bursting over Nagasaki by British prisoners from Camp #25 in central Kyushu, astonished and mystified them.

Captain Douglas Wilkie (Fairlight, England)
said that it “seemed like a huge, ever-swelling mushroom-shaped whiteish cloud, with a glowing center and stem reaching to the earth. I was queerly uneasy and very puzzled, and thought it was perhaps a new type of incendiary bomb.”

Lieutenant William Miller (Glasgow, Scotland):
“The bomb appeared like a growing ball of white smoke, with a red ball inside, giving me an impression of vague terror as an unaccountable phenomenon.”

Warrant Officer James MacIntosh (Invercargill, New Zealand):
“It started as a white puff of smoke, swelling and growing to a mushroom shape, and suddenly lit up inside. It was terrifying, as if clouds had caught fire.”

Staff Sergeant George Duke (Lahore, India):
“After a flash, white smoke expanded to the shape of an enormous parachute with an orange glow in the center. It remained suspended for half an hour and I thought it was possibly a prematurely detonated landmine. It gave me an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

Company Quartermaster Sergeant Norman Jones (Hartlepool, England)
remembered “a huge white cloud, intermingled with orange flame spurting in all directions. I felt completely dumbfounded.”

Sergeant Albert Young (London, England):
“I saw a flash—as if a mirror had shone into one’s eyes—followed by a white puff in the sky spreading to a huge ball of cloudy fire. I felt uneasy and frightened at something unknown.”

Corporal Hubert Fyfe (Edinburgh, Scotland)
described it as “the top half of a colossal hourglass, with red flame inside instead of sand, rapidly increasing in size. I thought a chemical works had been bombed.”

Corporal William Lunan (Glasgow, Scotland):
“I saw what looked like an enormous white wheel in the sky, with a glowing hub and axle pointing towards the ground. I felt unhappy about it, not knowing what to think.”

Private Ernest Newsome (Barnsley, England)
recalled “a huge ball of fire suspended in the air, growing larger and larger. It was still there after half an hour. I thought it was perhaps a new kind of gas. And I was upset.”

Lance Corporal William Angus (Nuntley, Scotland):
“A flash in the sky was followed two minutes later by a white puff growing to a mushroom shape, with a bright red glow inside. I thought it might be a new secret weapon, and was very bewildered.”

Gunner Denis Maguire (Merthyr Tydfil, Wales):
“It looked like a revolving ball of cloud in the sky, with a red glowing center, becoming momentarily larger. I had never before seen its like, and was thunderstruck.”

Private Thomas Jones (Nieuport, Wales):
“Following the explosion I saw a beautiful pure white cloud, which changed to red inside and commenced expanding. I thought it was a bomb raining red hot stuff down like a volcano.”

Sergeant Johnny Sherwood (Reading, England)
saw what seemed “an enormous white parachute poised in the sky. But I did not think any further of it and went on with my work.”

Warrant Officer Richard Ranger (Auckland, New Zealand)
said that the explosion “started as a small cloud, burning red in the center but fading to the edges. It gradually grew larger, with sheet lightning in the middle.”

Gunner Leslie Hughes (London, England)
compared it to “a huge, whiteish parachute burning inside, like a Crystal Palace firework display.”

Warrant Officer Eddie Kuhn (Wellington, New Zealand)
recalled: “I saw a ball of fire with a billowing white cloud at the edges. After a few minutes it became completely red-tinged, as if reflecting some huge city fire on the ground below. I was bewildered at this new horror.”

Gunner Ian Wiley (Pudsey, England):
“I saw a white cloud suspended in the air, with tracers coming from it. My impression was that it must be a new type of anti-aircraft defense.”

Gunner Fred Dillon (London, England):
“It seemed like a ball of fire giving off white smoke in the sky, and suddenly bursting out in all directions. I thought it was a new type of bomb.”

Gunner Leslie Huson (London, England):
“I saw a parachute-shaped cloud with a red flame in the center, spreading sideways. It remained in the sky for about thirty minutes.”

And
Corporal Stan Thompson (London, England)
remembers that “it appeared as a glowing turbulent cloud, expanding at the edges. I considered that it might be a new bomb. But I felt it best not to express my opinion, for fear of alarming the others.”

Nagasaki, Japan—Wednesday, September 12, 1945 0130 hours

Allied Prison Camp #25, Omuta, Kyushu

This camp has received a note dropped with food from a relief-carrying B-29 by Lieutenant Joseph Rose, bombardier of the nine-man crew.

The note reads, “Hello Fellows, I happen to be co-pilot, but I am trying to express the thoughts and feelings of the whole crew—many of them could probably do the job more eloquently.

“We sincerely hope you won’t need these supplies, but if the same conditions prevail in your camp as have been reported about others, you are sorely in need of them. Already some P.W. camps have been liberated and I want to assure you that every effort is being put toward getting you back home to rest camps and hospitals. Some crew members of our own bomb group have already been liberated and we are hoping more of them.

“Since they have sacrificed so much, it is with humility that I offer a short history of our crew. We arrived in the Marianas in March, 1945 and since that time have flown 33 combat missions. With this 37th mission, we have had our share of rough ones but by the grace of God our crew remains intact with no purple hearts to our credit.

“Again we wish you all the best luck in everything you undertake and if any of you live near any of our crew, or ever come close to where we live we want you to drop in and we will treat you as royally as possible.”

The co-signers were the pilot, Captain John Mapes; navigator, Lieutenant Joseph Andrews; radioman, Sergeant O. C. Cushing; Engineer Sergeant Ardia Vorley; Flight Officer Harry Gordon; Sergeant James Aretakis; and two gunners, Sergeants H. A. Hecleworth and Samuel Thrower.

Today Camp #25’s all-American medical staff, Captain William Brenner of Selmo, California, and Gilbert Cotner, of Riverside, California, are replying by courier from this radioless camp:

“Received your air drop and needless to say everything was appreciated. Only a prisoner knows what it means to sit down to eat an American meal after rice and soup for the last three years.

“Our camp consists of 396 men: 3 New Zealanders, 1 South African, 2 Americans and the remainder are from the British Isles. The men have been fortunate in working in a factory instead of a mine and the general health, while only fair, is now rapidly improving.

“After our short period of active service on Bataan, we felt that we had done very little when we consider what occurred during our term as prisoners.

“I wish to express thanks to British prisoners both for supplies and the risks and dangers incurred in their delivery. When we reach civilization a feast will be in order and not a Japanese feast!”

Omuta, Japan—Wednesday, September 12, 1945 1800 hours

Allied Prison Camp #17, Omuta, Kyushu

The following is an exclusive-name story of British prisoners, witnesses of the atomic bomb, for
The Daily Telegraph
and possible Canadian newspapers.

The atomic bomb falling on Nagasaki and Hiroshima released from servitude 250 Britons working in the Mitsui zinc factory and a few in the Mitsui coal mine along with some 700 Americans. Beatings were frequent and the death toll high. The Britons had been mostly captured in Singapore and the Philippines.

Here are characteristic statements from those who saw the atomic bomb explode thirty miles away in Nagasaki, not realizing at the time that it meant their freedom.

Driver H. Dinn (Wolverhampton):
“Thanks to this new bomb, the war is ended.”

Warrant Officer T. C. Simons, Indian Army:
“An astounding flash and smoke, and a fitting climax to Singapore, Thailand, and my experiences in the zinc works.”

Corporal D. E. Poynton (Newport):
“When I saw the billowing smoke and flames over Nagasaki, I thought it was just another raid.”

Driver L. Stokes (East Acton, London):
“It was a pleasure to see and hear those bombs dropping.”

Driver T. W. Ewins (Worcester):
“I am overjoyed at this sudden end to the war due to the new atomizer bomb.”

Driver George Fuller (Dundee, Scotland):
“Bless the atom bomb. Plum duff soon.”

Driver S. Harrison (Radcliffe, Lancashire):
“It is amazing what fire and atom bombs can do.”

Britons who spent the atomic bomb raid in the shelter underneath the zinc factory commented as follows over the release from their bondage:

D. H. Batton (Blackburn):
“Living conditions were appalling. Our food was poor and Japanese treatment very bad.”

Sergeant at Arms J. Jardine (Cavan, Eire):
“The Japanese are a sadistic race. Their brutality and torture is beyond all comprehension.”

Corporal W. Campbell (Inverness):
“I experienced and witnessed inhuman treatment, and feel lucky in my misfortunes.”