Nagasaki, which lost over 70,000 civilians (and a few military
personnel) to a new weapon 65 years ago today, has always been The
Forgotten A-Bomb City. No one ever wrote a bestselling book called Nagasaki, or made a film titled Nagasaki, Mon Amour.
Yet in some ways, Nagasaki is the modern A-bomb city. For one thing,
when the plutonium bomb exploded above Nagasaki it made the uranium-type
bomb dropped on Hiroshima obsolete. In fact, if it had not exploded
off-target the death toll in the city would have easily topped the
Hiroshima total.
Hiroshima
has always drawn the vast majority of press, public and historical
interest, even though many who support the first atomic bombing have
expressed severe misgivings about number two because of the failure of
United States to give the Japanese at least a few more days to consider
surrender after the first blast (and the Soviets' declaration of war).
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., once said in an interview that the "nastiest act by
this country, after human slavery, was the bombing of Nagasaki."
But Nagasaki was "forgotten" from the very start, thanks to a blatant act of press censorship.
One of the great
mysteries of the Nuclear Age was solved just five years ago: What was in
the censored, and then lost to the ages, newspaper articles filed by
the first reporter to reach Nagasaki following the atomic attack on that city on Aug. 9, 1945.
The reporter was George Weller, the distinguished correspondent for the now-defunct Chicago Daily News. His startling dispatches from Nagasaki,
which could have affected public opinion on the future of the bomb,
never emerged from General Douglas MacArthur's censorship office in Tokyo. I wrote about this cover-up in the book I co-authored with Robert Jay Lifton in 1995, Hiroshima in America.
Carbon copies of the stories were found in 2003 when his son discovered them after the reporter's death. Four of them were published in 2005 for the first time by the Tokyo daily Mainichi Shimbun, which purchased them from the son, Anthony Weller. I was first to report on this in the United States.
The articles published in Japan (and later included in a book assembled by Anthony Weller, First Into Nagasaki)
revealed a remarkable and wrenching turn in Weller's view of the
aftermath of the bombing, which anticipates the profound unease in our
nuclear experience ever since. "It was remarkable to see that shifting
perspective," Anthony Weller told me.
An early article that George Weller filed, on Sept. 8, 1945 -- two
days after he reached the city, before any other journalist -- hailed
the "effectiveness of the bomb as a military device," as his son
describes it, and made no mention of the bomb's special,
radiation-producing properties.
But later that day, after visiting two hospitals and shaken by what
he saw, he described a mysterious "Disease X" that was killing people
who had seemed to survive the bombing in relatively good shape. A month
after the atomic inferno, they were passing away pitifully, some with
legs and arms "speckled with tiny red spots in patches."
The following day he again described the atomic bomb's "peculiar
disease" and reported that the leading local X-ray specialist was
convinced that "these people are simply suffering" from the bomb's
unknown radiation effects.
Anthony Weller, a novelist,
told me that it was one of great disappointments of his father's life
that these stories, "a real coup," were killed by MacArthur who, George
Weller felt, "wanted all the credit for winning the war, not some
scientists back in New Mexico."
Others have suggested that the real reason for the censorship was the United States
did not want the world to learn about the morally troubling radiation
effects for two reasons: It aimed to avoid questions raised about the
use of the weapon in 1945, or its wide scale development in the coming
years. In fact, an official "coverup" of much of this
information--involving print accounts, photographs and film
footage--continued for years, even, in some cases, decades.
"Clearly," Anthony Weller told me of his father's reports, "they
would have supplied an eyewitness account at a moment when the American
people badly needed one."
THE SCOOP THAT WASN'T
How did George Weller get the scoop-that-wasn't?
After years of covering the Pacific war, Weller (left) arrived in Japan
with the first wave of reporters and military in early September. He
had already won a Pulitzer for his reporting in 1943. Appalled by
MacArthur's censors, and "the conformists" in his profession who went
along with strict press restrictions, he made his way, with permission,
to the distant island of Kyushu to visit a former kamikaze base. But he noted that it was connected by railroad to Nagasaki.
Pretending he was "a major or colonel," as his son put it, he slipped
into the city (perhaps by boat) about three days before any of his
colleagues, and just after Wilfred Burchett had filed his first report
from Hiroshima.
Once arrived, Weller toured the city, the aid stations, the former
POW camps, and wrote numerous stories within days. According to his son,
he managed to send the articles to Tokyo,
not by wire, but by hand, and felt "that the sheer volume and
importance of the stories would mean they would be respected" by
MacArthur and his censors.
Although Weller did not express any outward disapproval of the use of
the bomb, these stories -- and others he filed in the following two
weeks from the vicinity -- would never see the light of the day, and the
reporter lost track of his carbons. He would later summarize the
experience with the censorship office in two words: "They won."
In the years that followed, Weller continued his journalism career,
winning a George Polk award and other honors and covering many other
conflicts. Neither the carbons nor the originals ever surfaced, before
he passed away in 2002 at the age of 95. It was then that his son made a
full search of the wildly disorganized "archives" at his father's home
in Italy, and in 2003 found the carbons just 30 feet from his dad's desk.
And what a find: roughly 75 pages of stories, on fading brownish
paper, that covered not only his first atomic dispatches but gripping
accounts by prisoners of war, some of whom described watching the bomb
go off on that fateful morning.
A 'PECULIAR WEAPON'
In the first article published by the Japanese paper, the first words
from Weller were: "The atomic bomb may be classified as a weapon
capable of being used indiscriminately, but its use in Nagasaki was
selective and proper and as merciful as such a gigantic force could be
expected to be." Weller described himself as "the first visitor to
inspect the ruins."
He suggested about 24,000 may have died but he attributed the high
numbers to "inadequate" air raid shelters and the "total failure" of the
air warning system. He declared that the bomb was "a tremendous, but
not a peculiar weapon," and said he spent hours in the ruins without
apparent ill effects. He did note, with some regret, that a hospital and
an American mission college were destroyed, but pointed out that to
spare them would have also meant sparing munitions plants.
In his second story that day, however, following his hospital visits,
he would describe "Disease X," and victims, who have "neither a burn or
a broken limb," wasting away with "blackish" mouths and red spots, and
small children who "have lost some hair."
A third piece, sent to MacArthur the following day, reported the
disease "still snatching away lives here. Men, women and children with
no outward marks of injury are dying daily in hospitals, some after
having walked around three or four weeks thinking they have escaped.
"The doctors ... candidly confessed ... that the answer to the malady
is beyond them." At one hospital, 200 of 343 admitted had died: "They
are dead -- dead of atomic bomb -- and nobody knows why."
He closed this account with: "Twenty-five Americans are due to arrive Sept. 11 to study the Nagasaki
bomb site. Japanese hope they will bring a solution for Disease X."
To this day, that solution for the disease--and the threat of nuclear
weapons--has still not arrived.
