Candles on a River

One cloudy morning in August 1945, the B-29 Great Artiste, commanded by Major Charles W. Sweeney of North Quincy, Mass., was flying over Japan. After 50 minutes' unsuccessful search for his target, Major Sweeney asked a naval ordnance observer, Commander Frederick L. Ashworth of Wenham, Mass., what he should do. Try Nagasaki, said Commander Ashworth. With just enough fuel left for a single bomb run, the navigator, Captain James F. Van Pelt Jr. of Oak Hill, W. Va., hit Nagasaki exactly "on the nose." The bombardier, Captain Kermit K. Beaham of Houston, saw a hole in the clouds, let fly.

The atom bomb which fell from the Great Artiste at exactly 11:03 a.m. was far more powerful than that which had fallen on Hiroshima three days previously. Looking down on Nagasaki, Sergeant Raymond C. Gallagher of Chicago, wearing welder's goggles to protect his eyes, saw three "shock circles" rising through the boiling-up column of smoke, flame and dust. In that instant one-third of the city, including the Mitsubishi steel plant, had been destroyed. Engulfed in the explosion were 252,000 people, 36,000 of whom died, and 40,000 of whom were seriously injured.

At 11 a.m. last Saturday, Aug. 9, the air-raid sirens wailed again in Nagasaki. In memory of the atom-bomb dead, Nagasaki citizens bowed their heads, closed their eyes, prayed. Temple bells rang, civic leaders spoke. That night thousands of small lanterns, each with a candle burning in it, floated down the river which runs through the center of Nagasaki. In Buddhist faith, each candle consoled a soul lost in the atom blast.

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