Thoughts
on Hiroshima Day 2001
a haibun
Debra Woolard Bender
When
thinking about Hiroshima, I cannot help but thinking about my
father and father-in-law who were both enlisted men during World
War 2. They retired many years later as Air Force sergeants. Since
a year or two ago, I especially think of my father-in-law. During
the war, he was in the Army. After the war, he served in the Air
Force as a "lifer," one who is career military. Working
in SAC (Strategic Air Command), he held top-secret clearance and
did not divulge information about his job, even to his
family.
mushroom
cloud viewing
entrenched in desert heat
long before his cancer
a thin man who kept
the Fat Man in colder days
It
was family knowledge, however, that he was one of the soldiers in
Nevada during the testing of the atomic bomb. What was not known
is that after the war, for some time he was charged with
maintenance of the Fat Man. I learned about this part of his life
after he attended a squadron reunion, and returned with a picture
of himself standing beside an old bomb casing. A patriot and man
of duty, he would support his country. As a soldier, he would obey
orders. It is the way of the military and of men. He doesn't talk
about his feelings freely, but being a kind man, I think of the
inner conflicts that he must have faced when it came to national
defence and national offence. Not only he, but all soldiers in any
country who must view other human beings as "the enemy"
while facing the more common enemy existing in every heart --
ones' own self with its cowardliness and pride, its fury and its
power: That darker part which exists alongside nobility of spirit
and with what we sense we could be or are meant to be. One of
those inner conflicts surely must be a natural sense of
protectiveness.
the
Fat Man
watched over by a thin man
also with children
During
the 1960's, he was stationed in Misawa, Japan with his family for
a number of years. These were some of the happiest times of their
lives, and they loved the land and peoples. His only son by birth
(he also has a stepson), also joined the military as a Marine
during the Vietnam War. Later, his grandson, our son, joined the
Air Force, and became a military man as well. Today, my
father-in-law has cancer. Yesterday, he learned that it is in
remission for the first time. In his eighties now, it has slowed
his steps. I have often wondered if his cancer is related to
exposure during atomic testing in the desert. I believe they were
told that it was harmless to be in that proximity to the blast
site. I find it ironic that radiation, a destructive result of the
atomic bomb, is also used to treat cancer. Having had cancer and
radiation treatments myself, I am alive today, possibly because of
it.
reading
of cancer
from Hiroshima's terror
at my fathers' hands,
the long scar on my own belly
seems too small
Several
days ago my ten year old granddaughter and I were shopping. It was
a hot, Florida day. As we walked, we were talking. I remember her
saying, "Grandma, I know all about that," as she began
telling me the story of Sadako Sasaki and 1000 cranes. I don't
remember what started the conversation, but it seems that I had
said something about Hiroshima. Perhaps we were talking about
haiku, which she likes to try to compose whenever we are together
or even when we are on the phone. As a junior member of WHC, she
has enjoyed participating with her poetry and artwork, and is
proud of her growing collection of her own haiku. When she
visits, she always looks forward to finding haiku written by other
children on the junior mailing list, or a note from one of the
adult members or other children who has commented on her poems.
The haikujunior list is small yet, but she has received notes and
acceptances of haiku for publication through her submissions.
These notes have arrived from Susumu Takiguchi of England, DeVar
Dahl and Dina Cox of Canada, and Sonia Coman of Romania,
encouraging her writing. Now, she likes writing haiku even more,
and has begun to develop a little interest in Japan. She even
likes to read my haiku sometimes.
Hiroshima
Day
a thousand small hands
fold paper cranes
This
month I am excited to share one of mine with her which will appear
on Asahi.com. It
is about her late maternal great-grandfather during World War 2:
My father was a radioman in the Navy's Pacific fleets at the time.
I think of him also during Hiroshima Day. After the war, he joined
the Air Force. He became a sergeant major, marching troops and
record-keeping. I can still remember hearing the incredibly fast
clack of typewriter keys when he was working on his own projects
at home. Now here I am, at a computer, typing away every day on
the keyboard, thinking of the role in which my father found
himself as he sat in a ship, receiving and relaying messages on a
day in 1945. What a terrible mix of feelings he must have
experienced between such great tragedy, grief and profound
relief.
August
coda --
teletypist notes end
a war
song
Next:
Vietnam Ruminations,
Part 2, a continuing series
