The shelter was full of seriously burned people, some had popped-out eyes, or others had their tongues dangling down, or their intestines leapt out of their stomachs. I was looking for Tah-Bo by calling out his name, "Tah-Bo, Tah-Bo!" He didn't answer me.
I looked carefully and found him groaning underneath the tatami mat. People were sitting on the tatami mat. I shouted, "Oh, please, my son is under the tatami. Please move." However they were so heavily wounded that they couldn't move immediately. These people had burns, and their eyes popped out, or hairs were all burned and lost. I finally dragged him out, only to find that he was flattened as if he was dead.
In the shelter we couldn't move even by an inch with full of people injured or naked, and dead bodies. Genders of some of them were not recognizable. We jostled with each other.
In the meantime, the night fell and it was pitch-dark inside the shelter. Who was who we could not tell. It was sultry with the smell of burns and blood. I tried to go outside for fresh air and was carried out by the grown-ups in relay.
The buildings of Nagasaki Commercial School were burning. The scene of the fire was bright as noon. The U.S. warplanes spotted us in the brightness of the fire flame. They kept on strafing us. We hid underneath dead bodies and stayed still. We again crawled out of the dead bodies when the planes were gone.