VOSHN 87

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="082"><tr><td class="etesti">082</td><td class="edate">Toward the evening on August 6<sup>th</sup>, 1945</td><td class="eage">44 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>Now is the time to throw away our pens....</td></tr></table><div class="largep"><p>On the south tip of the city, as you know, was a shipyard, where injured people rushed one after another.</p><p>In time, the yard was filled with them and echoed with their groaning with pain and crying for water.  I can never forget those voices.</p><br><p>To their cries for water, the doctors shouted back, "You'll die if you drink water!"</p><p>Many say that they are just unable to forget people's crying, "Water!  Water!"  In my ears, too, it still lingers.</p><br><p>A boat was arranged especially for me at the shipyard.  I was carried upon a stretcher by students (who had been mobilized to work in the yard).  They were in high spirits, like soldiers going home carrying their wounded general on a stretcher.</p><p>They sang the song of students' mobilization, "Now is the time to throw away our pens..." while carrying me onto the boat.</p></div></body>