Please Give Me Some Water

It was bright and sunny this morning, so I spent 3 hours riding a too-small bicycle around Hiroshima. It was great fun.

Eventually, it turned gray and drizzly, and I found myself in the Memorial Peace Museum. The exhibits and photographs were intense--I found myself sobbing. I was the only fool in the whole museum crying--the stylish Japanese women were staring at me--that's an improvement. Usually, they never even glance at me.

I don't know why I cry so easily.

At 8:15 AM on August 6, 1945, many citizens of Hiroshima were walking to work on a bright and sunny day. A plane flew overhead, and a few pedestrians noticed: something is dropped from the sky! They looked, and gawked, and pointed as the parachutes opened, and then BOOM! they were dead. The A-bomb had exploded.

2 kilometers away, the survivors were staggering away from Hiroshima. They had been burned so badly they asked only one thing:

"PLEASE, WATER, WATER! PLEASE GIVE ME SOME WATER!"

You would think they would be thinking: "OMG, my skin is peeling off!" or: "OMG, blood is oozing out of my eyes!" or: "OMG, my mother just died!" but, no: all they could think about was water.

One soldier had come to help them. His superior officer had instructed him: "Don't give them water--if they drink water they will die of shock."

"Please, please! give me some water!" pleaded one victim.

"No!" said the soldier, "if I give you water, you will die."

"Please, soldier, I don't care if I die, just please give me some water!"