Fireman Keith Lynch Describes to His Parents the “Dead City” of Nagasaki, Japan

“Sixteen hours ago an American airplane dropped one bomb on Hiroshima,” announced President Harry S Truman in a radio address to the American people on August 6, 1945. “If [the Japanese] do not now accept our terms, they may expect a rain of ruin from the air the like of which has never been seen on this earth.” At 8:16 A.M. the uranium bomb, nicknamed “Little Boy,” had detonated over Hiroshima. No one knows exactly how many people were killed in the blast—many were vaporized instantly and left no trace—but most estimates range from 70,000 to 100,000. After Japan’s military leaders refused Truman’s demand for “unconditional surrender” (which included the removal of their emperor), a second bomb—“Fat Man”—decimated Nagasaki on August 9, killing approximately 60,000 people. Even after receiving reports of the almost apocalyptic destruction to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japanese military commanders still advocated “fighting to the death.” But Emperor Hirohito proclaimed that they must surrender, and on August 15 the Japanese people heard the voice of their emperor for the first time in a message broadcast throughout the country stating it was time for “a grand peace.” Keith Lynch, a nineteen-year-old fireman first-class on the USS Rutilicus, wrote home to his parents in Crab Tree, Nebraska, after visiting Nagasaki only six weeks after the city had been reduced to rubble. He could hardly believe what he had seen.

Sunday, September 23, 1945

Dear Folks,

Here it is Sunday, Holiday Routine again. Boy, does the time fly. It seems as if it were only yesterday that I sat out here topside of the veranda and wrote the last time. We’ve gotten mail twice this week and I’ve my share, eight of them. The last one I got was mailed the 10th of September, the same day we left Okinawa. A letter in twelve days. That’s not so bad.

There has been quite a bit happening since last week, especially the last two days, to us anyway. During the week it was just about the same. Things are pretty quiet around here, or were, at any rate. It’s been raining quite a bit. Wednesday night I had to go up to the top of the mast to put in a bulb in the truck lights. As it was raining I had to take a bag to put over me and the light to keep from blowing out the fuses and stuff. I also had a climber’s belt to hook on with besides the tools and bulb, etc. All in all I was a bit top heavy and I don’t mind telling you I was glad to get down, as it was also a trifle windy.

Well, to come to one of the two main topics I am to discuss (like they say in the movies): yesterday I went on my first, and most likely, only liberty in Nagasaki. The crew was divided into six sections and one went every hour. Each tour lasted two hours. We went to the beach and were put in trucks and given a tour of the city of Nagasaki. First we visited the main part of the city. It wasn’t hurt so much by the atomic bomb. The only activity you see is people walking, going nowhere, it seems. Just walking. The only people doing anything were some men working on telephone lines. Everyone, even a quarter of the women, have on uniforms. Army, Navy, what appear to be WACs, Army and Navy cadets (about 8 to 18 years old), etc. A lot of the younger boys carry what look to me like junior Sumari swords. A couple of us came close to relieving one of them of his sword. Or maybe bargain him out of it. But the chief persuaded us to forget it. Then we left that part of town and went to the other, the one that was hit by the bomb.

Now I know what they mean when they say a dead city. You remember when I first described the place to you? About the city being in two valleys going at right angles to each other from the harbor, with a string of mountains between them? The smaller of the two, about the same size and five or six times the population of Tecumseh, was the first we visited. It was damaged of course by the concussion of the atomic blast and also by two previous bombings. But the main part of the place, in the other valley, about the size of Lincoln I would say, and five or six times the population, was completely inundated. The sight I saw from the top of the hill, over which it was approximated the center of the blast, was a sight I hope my children, if I am so fortunate, will never have to see, hear of, or ever think of. It was horrible and when you got to thinking, unbelievable.

To think that a thirty-pound bomb the size of a basketball, exploding a thousand feet in the air, could cause such a holocaust was simply unbelievable. I shudder to think what these people underwent when the blast occurred. A blast that literally dissolved their homes, family, friends and any other material thing in the vicinity. A blast that pushed over huge steel structures a mile and a half away as if they were made of blocks. Now I can see what they mean when they say Dead City. A city with no buildings, no trees, no facilities, and no people. All you see from the top of the hill is a ground covered with bricks, burned wood, twisted and pushed over steel frames of buildings for several miles in each direction. There is nothing for the people of this Dead City to do but walk around and think, “What manner of people would do such a thing to us, who are a peaceful, courteous, and civilized people?” I wondered what they thought when they looked at us as we were driving along. “Are these the barbarians who did such a thing to us? What can we expect now that we are at their mercy?” I only wish they could be made to suffer a tenth of the atrocities that they performed on our men whom they held prisoner. People can say these people are simple, ignorant of the facts, or under a spell, but a nation cannot wage war as they have without the backing of the majority of their people.

Such a thing as I saw yesterday cannot be described in words. You have to see it and I hope no one ever has to see such a thing again.

Well, today the occupation forces came into Nagasaki. The Sixth Marines, I think they are. If anyone ever says to someone from the Wichita Hospital Ship House or the USS Rutilicus that they were the first to land on Nagasaki, that person will be viewing the world through what is known as a mouse, or breathing through what is known as a busted nose.

Well, I found out that my enlistment expires next March. If I get out then it’ll just about be right. Here’s hoping.

Well, folks, I’ve got a couple other letters to write before the movie. I’ll see if I can’t get another letter off before next Sunday.

Til then,

Love,

Son

The relentless B-24 and B-17 raids over Dresden, Germany, in February 1945 as well as the fire bombings of Japan, which consumed much of Tokyo and other Japanese cities in oceans of fire, killed more people than the two atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But that is what so horrified the world—there were only two bombs, and yet each was nearly powerful enough to wipe an entire city off the face of the earth. “I realize the tragic significance of the atomic bomb,” President Truman stated in August 1945, “but [we have] used it in order to shorten the agony of war, in order to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of young Americans.” After the war Truman’s decision to use atomic weapons was increasingly assailed as inhumane and unnecessary. Truman was unapologetic. When Irv Kupcinet of the Chicago Sun Times wrote a column in 1963 arguing that, even in hindsight, Truman’s actions were justified, the former president was grateful for the support. “I knew what I was doing when I stopped the war that would have killed a half million youngsters on both sides if those bombs had not been dropped,” Truman wrote, “I have no regrets and, under the same circumstances, I would do it again.”