Hiroshima Diary revealed to me previously unacknowledged facts about the cultures of American and Japan, and myself. I had always stoically studied August 6, 1945 as a part of the closing days of World War II. This personal, non-military account made it an emotional experience. One night in the hospital, Hachiya is awake in his ‘ward’. He sees a shadow move into the room, and after several seconds, realizes that a man who has been blinded and burned beyond recognition has accidentally stumbled in on the way back from the bathroom. Panicking in the dark, Hachiya shouts “You are in the wrong room!” And the poor man turns out of the room and stumbles away. After reading this story, I cried. I cried for the horrible pain people had to endure, that this man had to endure, and my ignorance for not knowing about it. I have always considered myself tolerant and still believe I am when it comes to skin color or race, but this book allowed me to drop my American identity and see the world as a human being, without political allegiances or selfish righteousness. I saw World War II for the pain and suffering inflicted on and from both sides, not just for which superpowers were justified in their actions. I recognized it on the level of individuals instead of military strategy and practicality; instead of acknowledging the idea of sacrificing the few for the many, I saw the unlucky few who suffered. I am ashamed of what this has revealed about my subconscious self, but hope that this exposure will help me look at things not in their relationship to my allegiance or belief system, but for the inherent examples of humanity that they possess, for we are all human.

One of the most obvious misconceptions I had held as an American involved the horrific aftermath of the bomb on the streets of Hiroshima. Several specific incidents from the diary absolutely shocked me. I had always assumed that people close to the hypocenter just “disintegrated”, or were immediately killed in the blast. The stories about those who “had been burned and were holding their arms out to prevent the painful friction of raw surfaces rubbing together” (Atwan/McQuade 35) totally contradicted all of my assumptions of quick, painless death or internal radiation problems in the distant future periods after the bomb. Stories from other parts of the diary also greatly affected me emotionally. An account that Dr. Hachiya recorded from a colleague related the story of four middle school students who huddled together in the street, and were so badly burned from the blast that they themselves knew that they would soon die. Later the colleague returned and found them in the same street, still huddled together, dead. Stories like this one made this diary the most informative and culturally eye-opening account of Hiroshima that I have ever read, and h

Some topics in this essay:
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