In A Time Called Hell

On August 06, 1945, the atomic bomb named "Little Boy" was dropped on Hiroshima… 60 years later… photos and videos of the death of that day again show up all over the internet. This is OK for some… but not for me.

(Photo to the left is my father, next to a bunker- some island in the Pacific- April 1943.)

I for one did not watch any video… Nor did I look at any picture. Not for a weak stomach mind you but for the reason that I didn’t need to. I’m not curious to see the shock and awe of death… I for one already know that war is hell. I also know that back then… my dad was one of those WWII men and was sick back here in the states with malaria before that bomb was ever dropped......

Now dad got this disease while island hopping in the Pacific, fighting the war against Japan. He was young and already married to my mom and though he never would talk much about the war to me, my mom said that back during this time dad was scared. Real scared… Scared that he would never make it through the invasion of Japan… Never make it through the invasion and come out alive. The invasion he knew as a Captain in the U.S. Army, he was most certainly going to have to go and fight. And like so many others of the time, a lot of fighting and death he too had already seen.

You know… I think Dad was most likely correct in his reckoning of this. That when all was said and done that me, my two sisters, my brother and all the kids that followed afterwards, would not be alive here on this earth today-- if it was not for those two Bombs.

Was it right to use them??? In the eyes of 100,000’s of young men in 1945 the answer was Yes… I think maybe so too. But like most every other sane person in this world today… I too pray that we never, ever have to see… another flash… and so much death… in a 100th of a second… in a time called HELL..........
AubreyJ.................................
August 06, 2005