VOSHN 117

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="109"><tr><td class="etesti">109</td><td class="edate">About August 13<sup>th</sup> - 14<sup>th</sup>, 1945</td><td class="eage">42 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>He would rather not see us</td></tr></table><div class="largep"><p>Every day I would go to the burnt area.  I walked around to find my son's body.  Once I touched a body, thinking that this might be my son, some liquid spurted out from the body.</p><p>Since it was hot in the middle of summer, dead bodies went rotten, swollen and lost their shapes.</p><p>They were lying everywhere as if they were small shrimps boiled and scattered around.</p><br><p>I was looking everywhere for my son and wanted to find him as soon as I could, but at the same time, I thought he would rather not show me the unsightly figure of himself.</p><br><p>I couldn't find him.  It was impossible to identify bodies.  Besides, nobody witnessed how it happened to them.  I heard all of his classmates at school died.  I only know that they went to work in that area in the morning.</p></div></body>