by Toland, John
Dr. Nishina’s plane arrived over Hiroshima the following afternoon. He surveyed the city and instantly concluded that an atomic bomb alone could have wreaked such havoc. He informed General Arisue that it had been an uranium-type bomb similar to the one he was trying to develop. Should he continue work on his bomb?
Arisue didn’t answer.
The destruction of Hiroshima made Japan’s unrealistic hope for a negotiated peace through the good offices of the Soviet Union more urgent than ever. Togo cabled Ambassador Sato in Moscow:
THE SITUATION IS BECOMING SO ACUTE THAT WE MUST HAVE CLARIFICATION OF THE SOVIET ATTITUDE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. PLEASE MAKE FURTHER EFFORTS TO OBTAIN A REPLY IMMEDIATELY.
In the afternoon on August 8 the ambassador requested an immediate audience with Molotov, who had been avoiding him for several weeks. He was granted an appointment at eight that evening but moments later he was inexplicably asked to move up the meeting to five o’clock. Sato forced himself to remain calm as he entered the rambling Kremlin complex a few minutes before five. He was ushered into Molotov’s study, but before he could greet the Foreign Commissar in Russian as was his custom, Molotov cut him off with a wave of the hand. “I have here, in the name of the Soviet Union, a notification to the Japanese government which I wish to communicate to you.”
Sato’s instinct told him this was a declaration of war. Although he’d been expecting it, the reality of it was a blow. Molotov left his desk and sat down at the head of a long table. Sato was directed to a chair at the other end. With set expression Molotov began to read a document:
“After the defeat and capitulation of Hitlerite Germany, Japan remained the only great power which still stands for the continuation of the war.
“The demand of the three powers, the United States, Great Britain and China, of July 26 for the unconditional surrender of the Japanese armed forces was rejected by Japan. Thus the proposal made by the Japanese Government to the Soviet Union for mediation in the Far East has lost all foundation.
“Taking into account the refusal of Japan to capitulate, the Allies approached the Soviet Government with a proposal to join the war against Japanese aggression and thus shorten the duration of the war, reduce the number of casualties and contribute toward the most speedy restoration of peace.
“True to its obligation as an Ally, the Soviet Government has accepted the proposal of the Allies and has joined in the declaration of the Allied powers of July 26.
“The Soviet Government considers that this policy is the only means able to bring peace nearer, to free the people from further sacrifice and suffering and to give the Japanese people the opportunity of avoiding the danger of destruction suffered by Germany after her refusal to accept unconditional surrender.
“In view of the above, the Soviet Government declares that from tomorrow, that is from August 9, the Soviet Union will consider herself in a state of war against Japan.”
Controlling his agitation, Ambassador Sato politely expressed regret that the Soviet Union was breaking a nonaggression pact almost a year before it expired. Now, as a favor, could he cable the information to his government? Molotov emerged from behind the impersonal façade: Sato could send any cables he wished, and in code. He said he personally regretted what had happened. “I have been quite satisfied with your actions as Japanese ambassador the past few years and am pleased that we two could maintain good relations between our governments until today in spite of the difficulties facing us.”
“I am grateful for the good will and hospitality of your government,” Sato replied in halting Russian, “which has enabled me to stay in Moscow during this difficult time. It is indeed a sad thing that we shall have to part as enemies. But this cannot be helped. At any rate, let us part with a handshake. It may be the last one.”
They shook hands, but almost immediately the telephones at the Japanese embassy were disconnected and all radio equipment confiscated. Sato wrote out a message in plain Japanese text and sent it to the cable office.
2.
The bombing of Hiroshima had undoubtedly inspired the Russians to advance their timetable to enter the war, but for months 1,600,000 troops under the command of Marshal A. M. Vasilievsky had been assembling along the Manchurian border. They faced a Kwantung Army, half their size, which had been stripped of all armor and antitank guns, and whose average efficiency was not quite 30 percent of a prewar front-line unit.
Two hours after Molotov read the declaration of war to Sato, two Soviet armies crossed into Manchuria from the west. At the same time another army, based in Vladivostok, invaded from the east. Roads were muddy and streams overflowed their banks from a day-long downpour, but the three great Russian columns converged inexorably on Tsitsihar, Taonan and the cosmopolitan city of Harbin.
Shortly after his meeting with Sato, Molotov informed Ambassador Averell Harriman that war with Japan would start at midnight. The Soviet Union had decided to honor its pledge to the day to enter the Pacific war three months after the defeat of Germany.
Later in the evening Harriman and George Kennan found Stalin in a talkative mood. He announced that the first Soviet units had already advanced ten or twelve kilometers into Manchuria. “Who would have thought that things would have progressed so far by this time!” he exulted.
Harriman asked him what effect the atomic bomb would have on the Japanese. Stalin was confident that the enemy was looking for any pretext to form a new government that could arrange a surrender. Harriman’s reminder of how fortunate the Soviets were to be on the side that had developed the bomb set Stalin off on an affable discussion of atomic energy. He seemed undisturbed that the allies had scored a scientific triumph. There was no hint that the previous day he had summoned five of Russia’s foremost nuclear scientists to the Kremlin and ordered them to develop their own bomb as soon as possible regardless of the cost; he had put Lavrenti P. Beria, General Commissar of State Security and the most feared man in the Soviet Union, in overall charge of the project.
• • •
It was understandable that Americans as a whole regarded the atomic bomb primarily as a deliverance from four costly years of war. A few, however, saw beyond the common exultance. Admiral Leahy thought it was an inhuman weapon to use on a people that was already defeated and ready to surrender, and that Americans “had adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages.”†
Stimson also remained gravely concerned. That afternoon he had showed the President a photo which graphically illustrated the “total destruction” of Hiroshima. He said they must make every effort to persuade Japan to surrender as quickly as possible, and success depended largely on the manner in which the Japanese were approached. “When you punish your dog,” he said, “you don’t keep souring on him all day after the punishment is over; if you want to keep his affection, punishment takes care of itself. In the same way with Japan. They naturally are a smiling people and we have to get on those terms with them.…”
But Truman was not prepared to go beyond the Potsdam Proclamation. He was not unmoved by the photo of Hiroshima, and recognized “the terrible responsibility such destruction placed upon us here and himself.” At the same time, a second atomic bomb would have to be used presently. No top-level meeting had been convened to discuss the necessity of a second bomb, no attempt made to determine if the first bomb or Russian entry into the conflict had quickened Japan’s intent to surrender. If there were any moral compunctions felt by anyone of influence, except Stimson, they were not expressed to the President; and he felt none. He was ready to drop two bombs, three—and more, if it meant saving American lives.
On Guam, thirty-two copies of orders for the second raid were mimeographed. The decision on how and when to use subsequent bombs was now in the hands of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Takeoff time would be early the next morning, August 9. There were two possible targets, both on the island of Kyushu: the primary was “Kokura Arsenal and City,” and the secondary, “Nagasaki Urban Area.”
TO THE JAPANESE PEOPLE
America asks that you take immediate heed of what we say on this leaflet.
We are in possession of the most destructive explosive ever devised by man. A single one of our newly developed atomic bombs is actually the equivalent in explosive power to what 2,000 of our giant B-29s can carry on a single mission. This awful fact is one for you to ponder and we solemnly assure you that it is grimly accurate.
We have just begun to use this weapon against your homeland. If you still have any doubt, make inquiry as to what happened to Hiroshima when just one atomic bomb fell on that city.
Before using this bomb to destroy every resource of the military by which they are prolonging this useless war, we ask that you now petition the Emperor to end the war. Our President has outlined for you the thirteen consequences of an honorable surrender. We urge that you accept these consequences and begin work of building a new, better and peace-loving Japan.
You should take steps now to cease military resistance. Otherwise, we shall resolutely employ this bomb and all our other superior weapons to promptly and forcefully end the war.
Evacuate your cities now!
Even before the pamphlets were delivered, newspapers in Japan were warning that “new-type” bombs had been used at Hiroshima which “should not be made light of.” The enemy, said the Nippon Times, now appeared to be “intent on killing and wounding as many innocent people as possible due to his urgent desire to end the war speedily.” An editorial titled “A Moral Outrage Against Humanity” revealed that the new bomb possessed “unprecedented power. Not only was the greater part of the city wiped out, but an extraordinary proportion of the inhabitants have been either killed or wounded.”
On the afternoon of August 8 Major Charles (“Chuck”) Sweeney, who had piloted the instrument plane Great Artiste over Hiroshima, was informed that he was to drop the second bomb, using another aircraft. Unlike the bomb used at Hiroshima, this was a spherical plutonium missile, ten feet eight inches long and five feet in diameter, called “Fat Man” after Churchill. Colonel Tibbets told Sweeney and his crew that “Fat Man” would make the first bomb obsolete. He wished them luck.
For their mission Sweeney and his crew would use Bock’s Car, while her regular pilot, Captain Frederick Bock, Jr., would fly the instrument plane.‡ The Great Artiste was unofficially being prepared for an unscheduled double role: three young scientists—Luis Alvarez, Philip Morrison and Robert Serber—were attaching a personal appeal, signed by them, to the canisters which would be parachuted over the target to gather data. Each envelope was addressed to Professor Ryokichi Sagane, a Japanese nuclear scientist whom all of them had known and worked with in the thirties at the University of California Radiation Laboratory.
To: Prof. R. Sagane.
From: Three of your former scientific colleagues during your stay in the United States.
We are sending this as a personal message to urge that you use your influence as a reputable nuclear physicist, to convince the Japanese General Staff of the terrible consequences which will be suffered by your people if you continue in this war.
You have known for several years that an atomic bomb could be built if a nation were willing to pay the enormous cost of preparing the necessary material. Now that you have seen that we have constructed the production plants, there can be no doubt in your mind, that all the output of these factories, working 24 hours a day, will be exploded on your homeland.
Within the space of three weeks, we have proof-fired one bomb in the American desert, exploded one in Hiroshima, and fired the third this morning.
We implore you to confirm these facts to your leaders, and to do your utmost to stop the destruction and waste of life which can only result in the total annihilation of all your cities if continued. As scientists, we deplore the use to which a beautiful discovery has been put, but we can assure you that unless Japan surrenders at once, this rain of atomic bombs will increase manyfold in fury.§
At 3:49 A.M. Bock’s Car rumbled down the long runway. Unlike the first bomb, “Fat Man” could not be assembled in flight and was fully armed at takeoff. The B-29’s ground run seemed interminable but its nose finally lifted, and lumbering off to the north in the darkness, it was closely followed by The Great Artiste and the photograph plane.
The mission seemed jinxed from the start. Sweeney discovered that the fuel selector to the 600 gallons of gas in his bomb-bay tank was inoperative. With that reserve unavailable, Bock’s Car’s range was dangerously restricted, but Sweeney decided to keep going. At 8:09 A.M. Tokyo time, one minute ahead of schedule, a small island appeared ahead through a break in the clouds. It was Yakushima, off the south coast of Kyushu, where Bock’s Car was to rendezvous with her escorts.
Three minutes later another B-29 loomed out of the clouds. It was The Great Artiste. The two planes circled for forty-five minutes but the photograph plane did not appear. “The hell with it,” Sweeney told his co-pilot. “We can’t wait any longer.” He waggled his wings and headed for the primary target. Kokura, a port on the northeast coast of Kyushu, was reported clearly visible. But the city turned out to be partially obscured by smoke and haze, and Bombardier Kermit Beahan, who had been ordered to make a visual drop, could not find the aiming point. He called back to Sweeney, “We’ll have to make another run.”
“Pilot to crew,” Sweeney announced. “No drop. Repeat. No drop.” He banked sharply and they came in for a second attempt. Captain Beahan squinted into the rubber eyepiece of the Norden MK 15 bombsight. All he could see was dense smoke. “I can’t pick up the aiming point,” he said.
“No drop,” Sweeney told him. “Repeat. No drop.”
They came in from the east. Here, too, Kokura was hidden. The flight engineer reported that fuel was “getting critical,” with just about enough to get them back to Iwo Jima. “Roger,” Sweeney acknowledged, but turned to the weaponeer—the officer in charge of “Fat Man,” Commander Frederick Ashworth—and said, “We’ll go on to secondary target, if you agree.” The Navy man nodded. “Proceeding to Nagasaki,” Sweeney told the crew and turned southwest. The Nagasaki weather plane had reported only two-tenths cloud cover over the city.
Nagasaki, a city of 200,000, spread over precipitous hills, like San Francisco. Its bay faced the East China Sea. It was a fabled port of spectacular beauty, particularly now, for a touch of autumn had come early and many of the trees were brilliant with reddish browns and yellows. The center of town fronted the bay which was formed by the Urakami River flowing into it from the north. With the centuries, Nagasaki had expanded from this nucleus into several valleys, including the one fashioned by the river which had become an industrial complex employing 90 percent of the city’s labor force.
In 1571 the Portuguese had helped build it from a fishing village into Japan’s chief port for foreign trade, and introduced tobacco, firearms and Christianity. The new faith became so widespread that the government took brutal steps to repress it. All missionaries were either killed or forced to leave the country, but in the seventeenth century 37,000 of their followers rebelled against religious persecution. They rallied around a castle near Nagasaki, and with the help of guns on a few Dutch vessels, held off the armies of the central government for three months before being slaughtered alm
ost to a man.
Their faith survived, however, and Nagasaki remained the most Europeanized, the most Christian city in Japan, a harmonious blend of the cultures of East and West with its numerous Christian churches and schools, hundreds of Western-type houses, and such tourist attractions as Glover’s Mansion, the legendary home of Madame Butterfly overlooking the harbor.
Shigeyoshi Morimoto was on his way home to Nagasaki, a nervous and shaken man. Only three days before, he had miraculously escaped death in Hiroshima, where he had been working for the past months making antiaircraft kites for the Army. He had been shopping for paint brushes less than 900 yards from ground zero when the bomb exploded, and the wreckage of the flimsy store protected him from the pika. He had fled the city, along with three assistants, in a coal car bound for Nagasaki and safety. All night long they talked compulsively about “the bomb.” Had Japan been punished by some supernatural force for attacking Pearl Harbor? By the time the freight train made its steep, dramatic descent into the Nagasaki terminal, Morimoto had an unshakable premonition that the bomb would follow him to his own home. He had to warn his wife. As he approached his shop, which was in the center of town, it was almost 11 A.M.
Misfortune continued to dog Bock’s Car. As it neared the target it encountered deteriorating weather. The cloud cover over Nagasaki would probably be nine-tenths. Sweeney told Commander Ashworth that with the reduced fuel they couldn’t make more than one pass and suggested dropping “Fat Man” by radar. Ashworth hesitated; he was supposed to jettison the bomb into the ocean if he couldn’t find the target visually. What a waste that would be, he thought, and decided to disobey orders. “Go ahead and drop it by radar,” he told Sweeney, “if you can’t do it visually.”
