Japan 1945 - Joe O'Donnell

Aioi Bridge, Hiroshima

August 6, 1945, 8:15 A.M., Hiroshima. One lone concrete building stands with the Aioi Bridge, the target for the first atomic bomb. The Enola Gay missed the target by 800 feet and instead the bomb detonated 1890 feet over the Shima Clinic, a small private hospital. Stone columns flanking the hospital’s entrance were rammed straight down into the ground, the entire building collapsed, and the occupants were vaporized. In that same instant 90 percent of the city’s buildings became rubble and 4.1 square miles of land was destroyed. 

O’Donnell talking with Kamikaze Instructor, photographer unknown

While visiting some air fields before the Marines burned all the Japanese airplanes, I talked to a former Kamikaze pilot instructor. In surprisingly good English he told me that the Kamikazes did not want to fly towards the end of the war. He spoke about his nineteen-year-old brother, one of his instructees, who flew his suicide mission just days before the war ended. He offered his opinion that the Emperor was dishonored because the war was lost.

Every Kamikaze pilot decorated his plane with a special picture. This pilot chose a depiction of his plane destroying a ship. 

Old Man, Fukuoka

This man’s unusual western-style long coat and hat caught my attention, so I snapped his picture. I was accustomed to having simple questions asked by people I photographed, but this man astonished me by not only sharing information about his past (he had lived in the United States but was caught visiting family when the war broke out), but by commenting on the atomic bombings. “I lost my entire family and most of my friends. They were like you and me, innocent ones, and they did not deserve to die. I can forgive America, but don’t ask me to forget. Like planting seeds in the dirt, buildings will rise out of these ashes, but unfortunately not in my lifetime. You tell your people what it was like after the bomb.” His words haunted me in the months that followed. 

Classroom, Nagasaki

Outside the window was a grim scene of what had once been a playground. Not one child even glanced at me, all keeping their complete attention on the instructor, who also ignored me and simply continued his lecture. Feeling very out of place, I quickly took my photographs and left. 

Standing on the Roof

September, 1945. As a twenty-three year old Marine Corps photographer, I climbed to the roof of the tallest building I could find in the fire-bombed city of Sasebo, Japan, one of 67 fire-bombed cities.  

Mitsubishi Steel Works, Nagasaki

This mass of twisted steel was all that remained of the Mitsubishi Steel Works. The tall black and white towers could be seen clearly from the air, and were used by U. S. pilots as landmarks. 

Orphans

This is a picture of one of the boys who followed me around in Japan. The boy and the baby were orphans. 

“Calvary” in Nagasaki

The starkness of the black outline of Urakami Cathedral on the hillside against the setting sun reminded me of the hill on which Jesus was crucified. 

“Atomic-Field”

“Atomic-Field” was the ironic name given the U.S. Marine airstrip in Nagasaki. At the time no one knew how much radiation was in the area, nor what kind of hidden death lurked there. Hundreds of apparently healthy Japanese people died mysteriously months after the bombing, and strange ailments afflict survivors today, both Japanese and American veterans who served in and around Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

Dressed Up Little Girl, Nagasaki

After offering this child and her mother candy, I asked why the little girl was so dressed up. Through signs and a few English words, the mother explained that it was a special day and they were going to the shrine. She also told me that the child couldn’t hear. When American bombers were sighted, mothers would run to their children to stuff cotton or soft cloth into their ears to protect them from the sounds of the explosions. Unfortunately, this mother didn’t get to her daughter in time.