John Rash wrote a thoughtful column published Saturday about lingering sorrow and horror from the atomic bomb, which prompted thoughts about when surprised Americans cheered the war's unexpected end after "Fat Man" was dropped on Nagasaki and "Little Boy" on Hiroshima ("How 'Hiroshima' made the world understand Hiroshima," Opinion Exchange).
I was a 9-year-old living in Washington, D.C., and shared my parents' surprise and joy that the war had ended so abruptly. We witnessed the surrender announcement from Lafayette Square, across from the White House, in a joyous bedlam of celebration. At St. Gabriel's Church the following Sunday, our priest ended mass with a prayer of thanksgiving for this war-ending weapon.
Many years later, I attended a reunion of my father-in-law's World War II air transport unit, which had taken the 82nd Airborne Division to Normandy on D-Day and participated in six other paratrooper drops. The surviving C-47 and glider pilots and crews reminisced that, after V-E Day, they were ordered home to train for the invasion of Japan in which all had expected to die.
Another time, I visited the Truman Library, which had on display an American flag made of parachute silk from food parcels dropped into prisoner of war camps after V-J Day. Prisoners thanked President Harry Truman for saving their lives by dropping the bomb. The Japanese had told prisoners of war that, when the first Allies touched homeland soil, the Japanese would execute every one of them.
My reminiscences add nothing to Rash's observations except to be aware of a time when the atomic bomb was more than a topic of reflection and discussion. Back then, it meant that families need not post myriad new gold stars in their windows to mourn the million casualties projected in the inevitable invasion.
Henry Owen, Edina
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John Rash's column about the New Yorker Hiroshima story by John Hersey is certainly appropriate. It was the first real indication of just how devastating atomic warfare was and what the real consequences of it could mean.