the invasion of Japan
Episode 4
the power of penguins
The plane is in Nagasaki in no time and I walk right off the plane and out the door. (there is still no luggage to speak of, but I am used to my uniform at this point) The local driver, who doesn't speak English, waves me down and then looks a little shocked that I have no bag for him to pick up. He does his best to figure out what to say, and I smile and just walk to the van. He must of think I am one bad ass American.
I am so tired that I miss out on the drive and all its scenery. I really don't mind, It's night time and I will be back in Nagasaki tomorrow. The base is an hour north of Nagasaki and I just want, and need, a shower and some sleep.
I start off early. It's a good half hour walk to the train station in Sasebo and from there it's an hour train ride to Nagasaki. The first thing I notice about this part of Japan is the people here don't share the same fashion sense as their Okinawan counter-parts. Here, they dress in what could best be described as "the desperate to get some - look". Lots of short skirts and knee high boots with spike heels. (The women are dressed nice too) No one here seems to bothered by my presence and I like that the locals don't cater to the military like they do in Okinawa. None of the buildings, businesses, signs or people have English in them or on them. I like that. It's more of a challenge. I get to use more of my chicken-scratch Japanese and I am getting use a lot of simple phrases that sound cool to say. I feel cool when I get one right but that goes away quickly when they think I can speak Japanese after one of my phrases and they then start rattling off some serious Japanese that I can't follow. Then I look like the idiot that needs to reach for the book. (which I do a lot)
The train ride allows me the sights that I wanted. Much like Okinawa, I get to see the smaller villages and their character. There are the fishing villages, the small homes with tiled roofs and the narrow streets filled with tiny cars. The bays and harbors are all lined with steep cliffs that are covered in beautiful trees and small homes which both seem to defy gravity as they hang on to the steep cliffs. I am trying to take it all in and not miss my stop, so I have one ear on the announcer's voice who is saying things in Japanese and the rest of my senses are tuned in to the view from my window.
When I get to Nagasaki, I get to see my first real images of Japan. This is the good stuff. Nothing here looks American, with few exceptions, and I am pleased that all I have is me, my curiosity and a goal. Of course, the main purpose for anyone visiting Nagasaki is to visit where the bomb exploded sixty years ago. It's a morbid fascination that has brought me here but it is waning quickly when I start to feel the weight of what I am really doing. In simple terms and comparison, I am the enemy visiting the site of my work, alone and uninvited.
The first part of the bomb experience is Peace Park. It looks like a traditional Japanese garden but it's much larger and a little more contemporary. It's a piece of gardening art is what it is. There are fountains every where, statuary for each fountain, and large black marble stones with gold engraved messages in Japanese, that line the walk way and indicate something factual that I can't figure out. I'm sure they something like, "Here, on August 9th, 1945, a whole lot of people died." The idea behind this part of the experience is the memorial for Nagasaki and those that died. There are two other sites to visit to get the whole experience and I thought I would start off with something easy.
It's a good walk through the garden to the open courtyard and the centerpiece of the whole park. There, a huge statue of a man in a quizzical pose, sits in the middle of a fountain. It's a huge statue and even though it doesn't really grab you and say, "remember", it does fit the park quite nicely.
On my way up to the statue, I pass large groups of school children in their traditional school uniforms and they look at me and all say, "hello". I can tell they are excited to say it but it's obvious they must have just learned it and wanted to try it out on the first American they could find. As I enter the open courtyard, I can see other large groups of kids and they are all talking to old men. Men old enough to say, have lived through the bombing sixty years ago. The old men see me but don't look happy about my presence during their speech to the school children. I feel like I am here on "Japanese only" day in the park and I have violated their experience. I guess America day at the park is Wednesday.
The next stop is the Hypercenter which is the place where the bomb actually exploded, well... directly under the spot where the bomb exploded. This park is a few blocks away from Peace park and it's not as big or as flashy, but it's power is much more evident. The hypercenter is a small park, no bigger than a hundred square feet. The ground is covered in intricate stone walkways that are laid out in concentric circles that start from ground zero. At ground zero is a large, black marble monolith with more engraved Japanese in gold on the sides. You don't have to speak or read Japanese to figure out what it's meant to represent. There is a small window at the entrance to this park that shows the actual ground at the time of the blast. There is some glass that was formed in the blast and inside the glass is some metal that was captured in that split second of intense heat.
There are children here too, and I am not feeling all that special when they approach with their "hellos". I am actually getting sick of hearing it, but I am trying to be a sport and I start talking to them in English as if they understood every word and it makes them giggle. I think some of them reached for books.
When I was a kid, a bit older than these kids, my parents prevented me from watching, "The Day After" because it showed a nuclear war destroying Kansas City, the town where I was born. They felt that it would scar me emotionally and I was told to go to my room for the night. The movie could not have scared me anymore than I already was about dying in a nuclear war. I was not worried about dying in a blast so much as living through it. I was told horror stories of a devastated waste land and suffering from disgusting illnesses and losing limbs or hair. It seemed like every movie I did see about the topic stressed that point and I just didn't want to live through it. I would rather die. I am now standing in a beautiful city that was once my nightmare and it didn't take them four years to have everything back to normal. I think its great that the parents here, want there kids to see this. I think that this can be a great lesson of death and destruction and then rebirth in all ways relating to the human condition, and it's sad that Americans don't get that lesson in such a stark way. Some could argue that they will see it at New York's ground zero, but there is a big difference (and some irony)between a suicidal airplane hitting two buildings and a nuclear bomb, destroying an entire corner of the world.
The museum is the last stop. It's filled with dramatic imagery that doesn't hold back at all. There are photos of the dead, the burned, the mutated, and the agony of those who lost loved ones. There is a replica of "fatman ", the bomb that was dropped here. There are large sections of wooden buildings that have "shadows" of leaves, people and other things that were burned into them. There is a graphic display of what happened that day in a computer generated, 3D image. A bomb drops, it explodes and a miniature Nagasaki catches fire or is blown down. Laser lights show the spread of the blast, in slow motion and then in real time. It's pretty shocking. The blast radius was twenty miles wide.
All of this happened in less than one second.
I am feeling ashamed and pretty low, but then I remember a few things. One - we didn't start the war that precipitated the use of the bomb and Two - this was the SECOND one we had to drop to get the Japanese to surrender. I am still hard pressed to be okay with it, but I need too. I am the only American in the museum and there are no phrases in my book to defend myself against my grandparent's generation dropping a bomb on them and there is nothing in the book for explaining that or defending yourself against children who are pretty emotional. The "hellos" have stopped and now it's Japanese insults which I don't understand but they seem to get them in trouble with their teacher and get all the rest of the patrons looking at me.
The train ride back is not as pleasant. Mentally.
I walk on to the base and see that there is a showing of "March of the Penguins" which I missed when it was in the states so I go and watch. I need something to come down from today's images. Sometimes visiting a memorial for people killed in a nuclear blast then having to turn on the funny for a comedy show, isn't as easy as it sounds. The movie works for me, but everyone in the theater has to rise for the playing of the national anthem before the show and that is weird.
I like the movie, it's touching and it talks about love and nurturing and effort and how that can make all the difference in the world to a young person. I have seen a lot of that today, both in my memory and right in front of me. I feel good that I went and I think that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and for a good moment in Japan, I feel I have been saved by a bunch of penguins.
the power of penguins
The plane is in Nagasaki in no time and I walk right off the plane and out the door. (there is still no luggage to speak of, but I am used to my uniform at this point) The local driver, who doesn't speak English, waves me down and then looks a little shocked that I have no bag for him to pick up. He does his best to figure out what to say, and I smile and just walk to the van. He must of think I am one bad ass American.
I am so tired that I miss out on the drive and all its scenery. I really don't mind, It's night time and I will be back in Nagasaki tomorrow. The base is an hour north of Nagasaki and I just want, and need, a shower and some sleep.
I start off early. It's a good half hour walk to the train station in Sasebo and from there it's an hour train ride to Nagasaki. The first thing I notice about this part of Japan is the people here don't share the same fashion sense as their Okinawan counter-parts. Here, they dress in what could best be described as "the desperate to get some - look". Lots of short skirts and knee high boots with spike heels. (The women are dressed nice too) No one here seems to bothered by my presence and I like that the locals don't cater to the military like they do in Okinawa. None of the buildings, businesses, signs or people have English in them or on them. I like that. It's more of a challenge. I get to use more of my chicken-scratch Japanese and I am getting use a lot of simple phrases that sound cool to say. I feel cool when I get one right but that goes away quickly when they think I can speak Japanese after one of my phrases and they then start rattling off some serious Japanese that I can't follow. Then I look like the idiot that needs to reach for the book. (which I do a lot)
The train ride allows me the sights that I wanted. Much like Okinawa, I get to see the smaller villages and their character. There are the fishing villages, the small homes with tiled roofs and the narrow streets filled with tiny cars. The bays and harbors are all lined with steep cliffs that are covered in beautiful trees and small homes which both seem to defy gravity as they hang on to the steep cliffs. I am trying to take it all in and not miss my stop, so I have one ear on the announcer's voice who is saying things in Japanese and the rest of my senses are tuned in to the view from my window.
When I get to Nagasaki, I get to see my first real images of Japan. This is the good stuff. Nothing here looks American, with few exceptions, and I am pleased that all I have is me, my curiosity and a goal. Of course, the main purpose for anyone visiting Nagasaki is to visit where the bomb exploded sixty years ago. It's a morbid fascination that has brought me here but it is waning quickly when I start to feel the weight of what I am really doing. In simple terms and comparison, I am the enemy visiting the site of my work, alone and uninvited.
The first part of the bomb experience is Peace Park. It looks like a traditional Japanese garden but it's much larger and a little more contemporary. It's a piece of gardening art is what it is. There are fountains every where, statuary for each fountain, and large black marble stones with gold engraved messages in Japanese, that line the walk way and indicate something factual that I can't figure out. I'm sure they something like, "Here, on August 9th, 1945, a whole lot of people died." The idea behind this part of the experience is the memorial for Nagasaki and those that died. There are two other sites to visit to get the whole experience and I thought I would start off with something easy.
It's a good walk through the garden to the open courtyard and the centerpiece of the whole park. There, a huge statue of a man in a quizzical pose, sits in the middle of a fountain. It's a huge statue and even though it doesn't really grab you and say, "remember", it does fit the park quite nicely.
On my way up to the statue, I pass large groups of school children in their traditional school uniforms and they look at me and all say, "hello". I can tell they are excited to say it but it's obvious they must have just learned it and wanted to try it out on the first American they could find. As I enter the open courtyard, I can see other large groups of kids and they are all talking to old men. Men old enough to say, have lived through the bombing sixty years ago. The old men see me but don't look happy about my presence during their speech to the school children. I feel like I am here on "Japanese only" day in the park and I have violated their experience. I guess America day at the park is Wednesday.
The next stop is the Hypercenter which is the place where the bomb actually exploded, well... directly under the spot where the bomb exploded. This park is a few blocks away from Peace park and it's not as big or as flashy, but it's power is much more evident. The hypercenter is a small park, no bigger than a hundred square feet. The ground is covered in intricate stone walkways that are laid out in concentric circles that start from ground zero. At ground zero is a large, black marble monolith with more engraved Japanese in gold on the sides. You don't have to speak or read Japanese to figure out what it's meant to represent. There is a small window at the entrance to this park that shows the actual ground at the time of the blast. There is some glass that was formed in the blast and inside the glass is some metal that was captured in that split second of intense heat.
There are children here too, and I am not feeling all that special when they approach with their "hellos". I am actually getting sick of hearing it, but I am trying to be a sport and I start talking to them in English as if they understood every word and it makes them giggle. I think some of them reached for books.
When I was a kid, a bit older than these kids, my parents prevented me from watching, "The Day After" because it showed a nuclear war destroying Kansas City, the town where I was born. They felt that it would scar me emotionally and I was told to go to my room for the night. The movie could not have scared me anymore than I already was about dying in a nuclear war. I was not worried about dying in a blast so much as living through it. I was told horror stories of a devastated waste land and suffering from disgusting illnesses and losing limbs or hair. It seemed like every movie I did see about the topic stressed that point and I just didn't want to live through it. I would rather die. I am now standing in a beautiful city that was once my nightmare and it didn't take them four years to have everything back to normal. I think its great that the parents here, want there kids to see this. I think that this can be a great lesson of death and destruction and then rebirth in all ways relating to the human condition, and it's sad that Americans don't get that lesson in such a stark way. Some could argue that they will see it at New York's ground zero, but there is a big difference (and some irony)between a suicidal airplane hitting two buildings and a nuclear bomb, destroying an entire corner of the world.
The museum is the last stop. It's filled with dramatic imagery that doesn't hold back at all. There are photos of the dead, the burned, the mutated, and the agony of those who lost loved ones. There is a replica of "fatman ", the bomb that was dropped here. There are large sections of wooden buildings that have "shadows" of leaves, people and other things that were burned into them. There is a graphic display of what happened that day in a computer generated, 3D image. A bomb drops, it explodes and a miniature Nagasaki catches fire or is blown down. Laser lights show the spread of the blast, in slow motion and then in real time. It's pretty shocking. The blast radius was twenty miles wide.
All of this happened in less than one second.
I am feeling ashamed and pretty low, but then I remember a few things. One - we didn't start the war that precipitated the use of the bomb and Two - this was the SECOND one we had to drop to get the Japanese to surrender. I am still hard pressed to be okay with it, but I need too. I am the only American in the museum and there are no phrases in my book to defend myself against my grandparent's generation dropping a bomb on them and there is nothing in the book for explaining that or defending yourself against children who are pretty emotional. The "hellos" have stopped and now it's Japanese insults which I don't understand but they seem to get them in trouble with their teacher and get all the rest of the patrons looking at me.
The train ride back is not as pleasant. Mentally.
I walk on to the base and see that there is a showing of "March of the Penguins" which I missed when it was in the states so I go and watch. I need something to come down from today's images. Sometimes visiting a memorial for people killed in a nuclear blast then having to turn on the funny for a comedy show, isn't as easy as it sounds. The movie works for me, but everyone in the theater has to rise for the playing of the national anthem before the show and that is weird.
I like the movie, it's touching and it talks about love and nurturing and effort and how that can make all the difference in the world to a young person. I have seen a lot of that today, both in my memory and right in front of me. I feel good that I went and I think that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and for a good moment in Japan, I feel I have been saved by a bunch of penguins.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 6:08 AM
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