When I arrived at the ruins of my house, only a single tree was left. I stood idly there until a woman in our neighborhood appeared and said to me,
"I feel great sorrow." "Why? What happened to my family?"
"Your little boy died." "And the others (another)?"
"Your older boy died, too." "Then, my daughter?"
"Your daughter died, too." "Then, my wife?"
"Also your wife died."
She sympathized much with me so that she was unable to say at one time that all of the four were dead.
Then she explained in detail about what happened. I understood it very well as follows;
Because It was a two-story construction, our house was heavily struck by the blast and fell down on the four of them inside. They were buried under the ruins and were still alive at this moment. Shouting, "Help, help" or "Here, we're buried," and hitting the bottom of a pot, they made maximum effort to tell people where they were trapped. The neighbor heard the voice and wanted to help. However with her force alone, she was unable to do so.
She asked men nearby for help, but nobody came. Therefore she could do nothing more and had to let them stay as they were. Soon flames caught the debris and my family of four died alive.