A Family History (3) : Wartime Experiences of Children in 1945

 

It has been 81 years since the end of the Second World War. Around the world, people commemorate the end of the war in different ways, including V-J Day and other national days of remembrance.

Please allow me to tell two stories I heard from my relatives about their experiences of the war as children.

Towards the end of the war, my father's family had evacuated to the countryside near a beach in a small village in Japan. My father's elder brother was ten years old at the time.

One afternoon, he was walking alone along a beach lined with pine trees.

Then an Allied aircraft appeared and began an attack.

My uncle ducked behind one of the pine trees. He heard the enormous sound of a bomb exploding very close to him. He remained crouched there until the aircraft had disappeared.

Once he was sure it was safe, he stood up—and found a huge fragment of the bomb embedded deep in the pine tree, just at the height of his neck.

He imagined what might have happened if he had not ducked. The fragment could have struck his throat, and he might not have survived.

On my mother's side of the family, there is another story. One of my mother's brothers once told me about his vivid memory of his wartime experience. He was only four years old at the time, so I imagine that the experience was so frightening that he could never forget it, even after all those years.

One afternoon, he had been out on an errand. On his way home, he was walking alongside a rice paddy. He was completely alone, and there was no one else around.

Then an Allied aircraft appeared and began firing at the ground.

My uncle instinctively rolled into an irrigation ditch, hoping that he could escape the gunfire by hiding in the water.

Once the aircraft had gone, he found himself soaked through. He made his way home, trembling with a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Neither of my uncles lived in a town or a village of particular military significance. Yet attacks from the air reached even rural parts of Japan. Allied aircraft sometimes strafed people they spotted on the ground, and civilians—including children—could find themselves caught in the middle of the fighting.

These are just two family stories, but I believe they represent the experiences of countless children who lived through war.

In Japan, 15 August is commonly known as the day marking the end of the war. Every year, people remember those who died during the Second World War and reflect on what happened, with the hope that such suffering will never be repeated.

Personally, I sometimes think of Japan before and during the war as a small mouse picking a fight with huge elephants across the world - a smaller animal challenging huge and powerful existances—brave perhaps, but hopelessly outmatched. Japan was comparatively weak in resources, yet it nevertheless made decisions that contributed to an enormous war.

Many people of our grandparents' generation were told that they were fighting to protect their country and their families from starvation and destruction. Yet, whatever the reasons, I believe that the war went far too far. Both the Allied and Axis powers lost far too many precious young lives.

Unfortunately, war itself seems never-ending on this planet. One war follows another, bringing suffering, destruction and chaos.

I hope for the safety of children, wherever they may be in the world. And I hope that one day, every child caught up in war will be able to return to an ordinary life—to go home, to play, to learn, and to enjoy being a child again, far away from the horrors of war.