On August 6, 1945, an atomic bomb obliterated Hiroshima. About 40% of the estimated 350,000 inhabitants died before the year ended. This is the story of a 19-year-old nurse who miraculously survived.
Before WWII, Hiroshima was a beautiful and bustling city. Rivers flowed through it toward the sea. Modern Art Deco buildings stood next to centuries-old temples and traditional Japanese homes. It was a city popular with visitors.
Photos and film footage from after August 6, 1945, show a completely different image, total devastation stretching to the horizon. Everything was flattened.
Far more than buildings was destroyed in Hiroshima, and again three days later in Nagasaki. The atomic bomb broke the spirit of the people. To survivors, it felt like the end of the world. Many were horribly disfigured and in unbearable pain, suicide was the only escape. Many others wished they were dead. Surviving the bomb brought no sense of gratitude.
In both Hiroshima and Nagasaki the population was completely paralyzed. Even weeks later, the clearance of wreckage and cremation of bodies was still barely organized. A report by the British Mission to Japan mentioned that “the impression which both cities make is of having sunk, in an instant and without a struggle, to the most primitive level.”1
The number of people who died due to the atomic bombs remains unknown. American scientists conducted careful studies shortly after World War II. Their highly conservative estimates were 66,000 dead and 69,000 injured in Hiroshima, and 39,000 dead and 25,000 injured in Nagasaki. Other estimates are higher.
But August 6 was only the beginning. Victims kept dying. The aftereffects of the atomic bombs were far-reaching. A mysterious illness spread among the survivors: hair loss, red spots on the skin, lip sores, high fever, diarrhea, and a dramatic drop in white blood cell count. Doctors were baffled.
Today, the total number of registered victims for the two cities exceeds 543,000.2 Never has a single weapon, used only twice, claimed so many victims. A weapon that, in a fraction of a second, unleashed an all-consuming inferno on a whole city. A weapon that haunted its victims for the rest of their lives.
Takako Kaneto was a 19-year-old nurse in Hiroshima on that dreadful August day in 1945. “I remember it like it was yesterday,” she told me twenty years ago in a solemn measured voice.
She worked at a military hospital in the city center, less than 600 meters from where the bomb fell. Studies suggest that within a kilometer from the hypocenter 90% of people died.3 Kaneto survived thanks to miraculous circumstances and unimaginable inner strength.
Three days earlier, a doctor suspected she had dysentery. She was being observed in a ground-floor room of the hospital. That would save her life.
I needed to use the restroom, so I put on my uniform to avoid looking like a patient. Just as I pulled it over my head, there was a sudden bright light. Huh, what was that? I thought. I really needed to go, but I turned to have a look. It was overwhelming. Like a camera flash. The air-raid sirens had just given the all-clear, so I did not think a plane had dropped a bomb. Just as I was wondering what was going on, the explosion hit me. I do not know what happened after that. Whether I flew through the air or not. A few hours later, I regained consciousness. The concrete floor above me had collapsed, and I was curled up beneath it. I heard the voices of nurses around me crying, ‘Help me, help me!’ Those voices pulled me back into reality. Otherwise, I surely would have died. I heard the crackle of approaching flames. Oh no, I thought. Just then, I heard my boss’s voice. ‘Those who can escape, do so with all your might!’ I looked around and saw a vent, barely a meter and a half wide. I squeezed through and fell two meters down. I was wearing only underwear, and blood was pouring from my face. A friend found me. She looked at me and said, ‘How awful.’ At the time, we always told patients their wounds weren’t bad, so I thought, this is the end. ‘I will carry you,’ she said, and took me on her back. She carried me to the Otagawa River. Everywhere I looked lay dead horses, dogs, people. The corpses were pitch black. Horrible. So, this is what hell looks like, I thought.
Eventually, soldiers arrived by boat. They helped the severely injured nurse. Though she was not aware of it yet, shards of glass had embedded deep into her face and arms. Her white underwear was stained red with blood. But no one told her. No one could help.
Many of those who survived the first hours wandered around in a daze. Half-burned, or with limbs partially melted and skin hanging in strips. An all-consuming firestorm raged through the city. Scared voices called frantically for help from the rubble of collapsed houses. They had no chance. Those who could still walk hurled themselves into the rivers to escape the flames. Most drowned, or suffocated as the firestorm sucked up all the oxygen.
It was impossible to help the countless injured. The German Jesuit priest Johannes Siemes, who experienced the bombing, wrote:4
Thousands of wounded who died later could doubtless have been rescued had they received proper treatment and care, but rescue work in a catastrophe of this magnitude had not been envisioned; since the whole city had been knocked out at a blow, everything which had been prepared for emergency work was lost, and no preparation had been made for rescue work in the outlying districts.
For Kaneto, in an almost lifeless and devastated world, the situation must have felt hopeless. But she did not give up.
It started to rain. A black rain. When the drops hit my wounds, it hurt terribly. A soldier was sitting in front of me. I asked, ‘Let me under your coat,’ and I put my head beneath it. When the rain stopped, I thanked him. But he was dead. I thought, oh no, I killed him. That is how heavy the responsibility weighed on my shoulders.
Eventually, the boat arrived at a spot where many survivors had gathered. Kaneto disembarked.
I was so thirsty, so thirsty. Suddenly, I saw the head nurse from our hospital. ‘You are still alive?’ she said. ‘Thank goodness.’ I asked her for water. ‘You cannot drink the river water,’ she said. ‘If you drink it, you will die.’ ‘I don’t mind dying. Please, give me water,’ I replied. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. Then she pushed aside the dirt in the river and very carefully scooped up some water using a soldier’s mess tin. I took a sip and said, ‘How delicious. Thank you.’ Then everything came back out. More than I had drunk. Looking back, that was probably a good thing.
During the day, she lost sight of her friend. That night, she stayed in a community center on the edge of Hiroshima. The next morning, she walked past a window and saw her reflection. “Ugh, what a ghost, I thought. My face did not look human anymore.”
Kaneto ended up in an elementary school that had been converted into a make-shift emergency hospital. “There were people without noses, without arms, without legs.” She stayed there for several weeks.
One day, a soldier suddenly started running. ‘The Americans are coming,’ he said. ‘I am going to fight!’ With his sword drawn, he jumped straight through a window. I asked a nurse what happened to him. ‘He is dead,’ she replied. After that, one soldier after another jumped out of the windows.
On August 15, Japan surrendered.
Everyone was gathered around the radio. ‘What is going on?’ I asked. ‘The Emperor is speaking,’ someone said. There was a lot of static, and we couldn’t understand anything. ‘Can anyone make out what he is saying?’ I asked. ‘Japan has lost,’ someone replied. Half of me felt relieved, but the other half thought, how sad, what now? I was terrified.
When the hospital closed, Kaneto, her body wrapped in bandages and wearing a white hospital gown, boarded a train to her parents’ home in nearby Yamaguchi Prefecture. “Everyone looked at me strangely. I was so ashamed.”
At home, Kaneto’s hair began to fall out. Red spots appeared on her skin, her gums bled, and she had a high fever. “My father read the newspaper and said, ‘People with symptoms like yours are all dying.’ He took me to a doctor.”
Kaneto was hospitalized again. This time for a month.
They did not really know what to do with me. My white blood cell count had dropped dramatically. I was constantly tired and could not walk. They did not give me any medicine. Every day I only got a can of tangerines.
Even after she was discharged, she remained sick. “Every day, I thought I would die tomorrow.” On the street, total strangers took photos of the once-beautiful girl because she was so horribly disfigured. “I thought I would never be able to marry.”
When I met Kaneto-san fifty years later, she was still very much alive, and married. Amazingly, she had survived the 1995 earthquake that devastated Kobe as well. The glass from the hospital was still under her skin. She was unbelievably lucky.
This site is funded by readers like you
Old Photos of Japan provides thoroughly researched essays and rare images of daily life in old Japan free of charge and advertising. Most images have been acquired, scanned, and conserved to protect them for future generations.
I rely on readers like you to keep going. Please donate now to support this work.
Beyond the Mushroom
The atomic bomb’s enormous mushroom cloud immediately became the defining image of the horrific event. For decades, the photo of the impersonal and almost abstract cloud was used to avoid confronting the inhuman suffering of the victims.
Japanese photographers documented the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but much of their work was censored or confiscated by U.S. Occupation authorities after the war. Nevertheless, many images were secretly preserved and later published widely in Japan.
Through September 16, 2025, The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum exhibits photos and films of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima taken in 1945. Here is a pdf file with a selection of these photos. Asahi Shimbun has an online presentation featuring 64 photos of the a-bomb aftermath.
The most complete collection of photos of the Hiroshima bombing can be found at Visual archives of Hiroshima atomic bombing — Photographs and films in 1945 on the site of the Chugoku Shimbun.
Warning, some of the photographs are disturbing.
Outside Japan, these photographs are still relatively unknown even today. Several photo books in English have been published. One of them is Flash of Light, Wall of Fire released on the 75th anniversary of the bombings. It showcases the work of 23 Japanese photographers.
About the Top Photo
The Atomic Bomb Dome, Hiroshima in July, 1947 (Showa 22). Around it, Hiroshima is slowly being rebuilt.
Designed by Czech architect Jan Letzel (1880–1925), the building was completed in April 1915 (Taisho 4) and initially named the Hiroshima Prefectural Commercial Exhibition. It was primarily used for art and educational exhibitions.
The 6 August 1945 (Showa 20) nuclear explosion that devastated Hiroshima found place almost directly above the building. Now known as the Genbaku Dome (原爆ドーム, A-Bomb Dome), this Hiroshima Peace Memorial was registered on the UNESCO World Heritage List in December 1996 (Heisei 8).
Related Articles
Notes
- A Dutch version of the interview with Takako Kaneto was published in newspapers in the Netherlands in 2005.
- At the time of the atomic bombing, Hiroshima had an estimated population of around 350,000, including about 40,000 military personnel. Due to the 6th House Demolition Order and other factors, such as the presence of mobilized students, volunteer workers, and business visitors, the daytime population may have reached 400,000. By the end of December 1945, approximately 140,000 people, including 20,000 soldiers, had died. Source: Hiroshima Speaks Out: The Facts of the A-bombing. Retrieved on 2025-08-04.
- For a discussion of the number of dead, see Wellerstein, Alex (2020) Counting the Dead at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.
1 Effects of the Atomic Bombings on the Inhabitants of the Bombed Cities. The Atomic Bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by The Manhattan Engineer District, June 29, 1946.
2 The total number of registered a-bomb victims is 344,306 for Hiroshima as of 2024 (1) and 198,785 for Nagasaki as of August 9, 2024 (2).
- Hiroshima’ s Path to Reconstruction: Hiroshima Reconstruction and Peace Building Research Project. “Hiroshima for Global Peace” Plan Joint Project Executive Committee, Hiroshima Prefecture and The City of Hiroshima. Retrieved on 2025-08-03.
- Nagasaki National Peace Memorial Hall for the Atomic Bomb Victims. Retrieved on 2025-08-03.
3 Tomonaga, Masao (2019). The Atomic Bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki: A Summary of the Human Consequences, 1945-2018, and Lessons for Homo sapiens to End the Nuclear Weapon Age. Journal for Peace and Nuclear Disarmament. vol. 2, 2019 – Issue 2, 491-517.
4 Siemes, Johannes (1945). “Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima [—] Eyewitness Account of P. Siemes,” n.d. [Translated from the German by Averill A. Liebow, 27 September 1945]. The George Washington University: National Security Archive.
Published
Updated
Reader Supported
Old Photos of Japan aims to be your personal museum for Japan's visual heritage and to bring the experiences of everyday life in old Japan to you.
To enhance our understanding of Japanese culture and society I track down, acquire, archive, and research images of everyday life, and give them context.
I share what I have found for free on this site, without ads or selling your data.
Your support helps me to continue doing so, and ensures that this exceptional visual heritage will not be lost and forgotten.
Thank you,
Kjeld Duits
Reference for Citations
Duits, Kjeld (). Hiroshima: Every Day I Thought I Would Die Tomorrow, OLD PHOTOS of JAPAN. Retrieved on October 1, 2025 (GMT) from https://www.oldphotosjapan.com/photos/976/hiroshima-1945-every-day-i-thought-i-would-die-tomorrow
There are currently no comments on this article.