VOSHN 323

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="301"><tr><td class="etesti">301</td><td class="edate">On and after August 16<sup>th</sup>, 1945.</td><td class="eage">Oh, that one has died.</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>26 years old at that time</td></tr></table><div class="large"><p>They said: "Please give me water.  Help me.  Give me water.  Ouch, Ouch".  Everyday, every night, the wounded were always groaning with pain.  And, there were no way for them who had been wounded worse.  There were many people that doctors could not cure.  So they died little by little.</p><br><p>There were some children who said: "Mummy, Mummy", others said: "Thanks doctor, thanks doctor, thanks doctor" when they died.</p><br><p>And there were people who said: "I want to water.  I need water.  Please give me water if I would die".  The man was a kind of men that died soon.  I remembered that he really died.  I soaked cotton with water and gave it to that sort of person.</p><br><p>And whenever someone died, those around one said: "Oh, that one has died".  And then, someone never fail to die pretty soon.  I thought that those around one felt lonely losing ones.</p></div></body>