VOSHN 84

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="079"><tr><td class="etesti">079</td><td class="edate">On the evening of August 6<sup>th</sup>, 1945</td><td class="eage">28 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>A still attached eyeball was hanging below a boy's nose.</td></tr></table><table summary="haikei"><tr><td class="bg" background="../../photo/img223.jpg"><div class="large"><p>From behind the air-raid shelter for locomotives a young girl with bobbed hair came running to me and pleaded, "Mister, please come and look at my little brother."  In the shelter a kindergarten-age boy with burns, sitting with his legs straight out, was holding his arms straight in front of him.  His skin was hanging down from his arms.</p><p>I was frightened then to see his left eyeball hanging below his nose, about 15 centimeters down from the place where it should have been located.</p><p>The young girl, his sister, begged, "Take care of him, please."  I was totally at a loss, not knowing what to do.  I was not an eye specialist nor any kind of doctor at all.  I could have held his eyeball with my fingers and put it back in its socket, but I knew it would be of no use.</p><br><p>Even now I'm unable to forget them.  When I visit the cenotaph on the evening of August 6 every year, I address them in my heart: "My dear little girl, and my dear little boy, I was very sorry that you were in great agony at that time.  Please forgive me for not being able to help you."</p></div></td></tr></table></body>