Black Rain by Masuji Ibuse

Author:Masuji Ibuse
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kodansha USA
Published: 2010-08-05T04:00:00+00:00

August 10. Fine.

Yasuko and Shigeko fetched our breakfast from the dormitory kitchen, then shaped some of the boiled barley-and-bran mix into “rice cakes” to take with them, and set off for the city. I went with them as far as the station. In the station there were many people who, so far as I could tell, were neither waiting for someone nor buying tickets, but had simply drifted into the waiting room for want of somewhere else to go. When the train arrived a number of them simply stood there without moving, and some of them were sprawled out on the benches again when it left. There were other people asking the station officials how best to set about finding lost children.

I left the station and went back to the company, where I found urgent business awaiting me. I must arrange to secure some coal, and this would necessitate going either to Hiroshima or to Ujina. Mr. Fujita brought a large bundle from an adjoining room. “I hate to bother you,” he said, “but I’d like you to get something done about it as soon as possible. The things you’ll need in the ruins are in this bundle. Be careful, now—there may be another raid.”

I left a message with him for Shigeko. Then I got my air raid hood and a first-aid outfit, shouldered the bundle and set off.

The train took me as far as Yamamoto Station. From here on, services were still interrupted. None of the passengers, fifty or sixty altogether, left the station when we arrived; instead, they set off walking in single file along the tracks towards Hiroshima. The people of Hiroshima are noted for their sociability, but today each of us paced steadily ahead, treading from one railway tie to the next, without exchanging a single word. The only people carrying anything on their backs apart from myself were two women in baggy breeches immediately ahead of me. Less than a quarter of them were carrying anything resembling a packed meal; nothing could have demonstrated so vividly the shortage of goods that affected even the farming villages near the town. How many similar silent parties, I wondered, did the train unload every day into the burned-out ruins of Hiroshima?

As we finally came into the ruined area a dank, malodorous breeze came blowing across the empty waste. One by one, the people walking with us dropped out of file, until eventually only a handful were left going in the same direction as myself. By now, all about was a waste of broken tiles, the road a heavily pitted desert.

I had crossed a bridge when it occurred to me to wonder just where I was. I looked back, and recognized the arched iron framework that had survived the flames: Yokogawa Bridge. Near here, as I had passed along the same road on my way out of the city on the sixth, I had seen three women, almost completely naked, dead in a water tank that stood by the roadside about eight-tenths full.

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