Hiroshima ~by Claire A.

The summer of 1945 changed my life forever. Nagasaki had supposedly been bombed yesterday, but I didn't believe that. Rumors were flying throughout Japan in 1945. The war was coming closer to our shores. My sister, father, mother, who was large with child, and I ran through the streets of Hiroshima heading toward the shelter. As we ran, my mother began to slow. Then she stopped, letting out a blood curdling scream. The baby was on its way.

We were separated from Momma, and she was transported to the hospital. Days went by really slowly in Hiroshima, as we waiting, hoping that no bombs would come. However, the days started going by really fast with my mother in the hospital and my family in jeopardy. It was strange living without my mother. Every night my father went outside the air raid shelter; he said, "I'm just going out for a smoke." I would ask if I can go outside with him, but he said no. I was sick of sleeping on the concrete, being trapped inside a metal building, and breathing in "people fumes."

One night I decided to go outside with my father, to see what he was really up to. I didn't want him to know, so I stayed in the doorway. I saw my father go around the corner; I followed. Papa reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and stood in front of a telephone booth. The phone started ringing. I was surprised; it seemed Papa was waiting for the call. Papa held the receiver up to his ear and said some words in a language I did not know. Confused, I went back inside. With a twisted look on my face, I shuffled over to the sleeping mat and plopped to the floor. I called my sister over, "Sazukia? Sazukia?" She came running over. I repeated the words I had heard Papa say into the phone. She had been studying English, and I wondered if that was the language he was speaking. I asked her to translate. She gave me a puzzled look, and then translated those cursed words.

Two days went by. Father still went outside for those calls. On August sixth he went outside for a final call. Suzukia and I followed. It was the same routine I had seen before: he went outside, the phone would ring, he would answer and say words I had never heard before. Sazukia's eyes widened, and she couldn't speak until I shook her out of the trance. "What did he say?" a worried tremor in my voice.
"Well," Sazukia said hesitantly, "Um he said..."
"Spit it out!" I said, getting impatient.
"He said...um...that the conditions are perfect for a bomb drop."
"He wouldn't say that! Who would he be talking to? How does he know about bombs?" The conversation went on for about thirty minutes, back and forth, back and forth as we tried to figure out our father.

Then we got the news we had a new sister. My heart was filled with emotion; it was almost overwhelming. We were going to the hospital to meet our sister. It was the first time I had actually gone outside in three weeks. My father told our escorts that he had to go to the lavatory, and he disappeared around the corner. I followed him as he snuck back to the phone booth. Right then and there I realized my father was our enemy, not our hero. He picked up the phone and placed a call. As soon as the person on the other end picked up, Papa whispered, "Now." When he said that word, an enemy fighter plane appeared in the sky. I could read the words ENOLA GAY painted on the sides. Under the plane, a white sphere kept my eye, holding it like a lion clutching a baby gazelle.

"Inside, now!" our escorts yelled.
"But my mommy's out there," I screeched hitting our escorts as they dragged me through the door. I desperately wanted to get to the hospital. The door was slammed behind me, and my father followed us inside and glared at me, an evil glint in his eye. This look I did not understand, and it was a look I didn't like.

Within seconds, everyone ran to the windows to see what the commotion was about. I ran too; I saw then the bomb drop from the belly of the plane. It fell from the sky and everyone ran away from the windows except me. My mother was out there and I wanted her back. Then, blue rays of light shone in through the windows and hit many people. I fell to the floor as the building was lifted intact and moved by the blast. A grueling ten minutes went by and the building moaned and groaned, then collapsed. It felt like the weight of the whole building was on my back as I lay face down in the broken concrete. "Help!" was the only thing I heard, and it rang in my ears. It rang endlessly, "Help, help, help."
After the smoke cleared, I saw nothing. Well actually a dry trench surrounded by scorched,crumbling buildings. The destruction was horrifying. The once beautiful park was now filled with shards of broken glass and ash.

We had struggled through the day, running from the fires. We made it to an elementary school that would serve as our shelter that night. When I woke up the next morning, I remembered that my baby sister was born yesterday. August 6th, her birthday, was the worst day of my life. I called for Sazukia, but my sister didn't answer. I clambered to my feet, ignoring the nurses who told me to stay put. I walked around regardless of my bleeding feet, and mangled skin. I called and called for my sister, over and over again. I called for my mother, and I even called for my father, even though he was a traitor. After all he might have been the only part of my family left. There was no reply. The deep gashes on my face oozed blood that ran into my eyes; it stung and I cried bloody tears. I called one more time before giving up, and that is when I heard my mother's voice. It was as thin as a spider's web. I started to run toward the voice, but I was stopped by the police.

"Excuse me, I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"Yes," I replied, nervous to find out what they wanted to know.
They asked me many questions, simple at first, but they got harder and harder, and finally they asked me the question I had been dreading. "Do you know anyone connected to the bombing?"
I swallowed hard then burst into tears, "Yes, yes I think know someone. My father has been making calls to someone...about a plane? He...he..."
"Show us your father," the guard said.
"I...I...don't know were he is," I stammered. The police led me to a nurse.
"Mam," a nurse turned around. "We would like to know where," they turned to me, "what is your father's name?"
"Kentaro Chan," I said, trembling.
Then they turned back to face the nurse, "Where is Kentaro Chan?"
The nurse turned back to the half burnt notebook and started flipping through the pages. When she found my father's name, she motioned for us to follow; we did. We reached the location of my father. He sat up, a dazed look on his face. "Is this him?" they asked me.
"Yes," I answered, swallowing my tears.
"Kentaro Chan, you are under arrest by order of the Japanese Guard!"
My father looked stunned, but I could tell he was fibbing. "What did I do?" my father asked trying to look innocent.
"You killed many people. You killed my friends; you killed Sazukia," I screamed.
He snorted. "Why would I do that?" he asked, getting agitated.
"Just come with us," the guards huffed, suspicious of his response. They hoisted my father to his feet, and then something I could never have dreamed of happened.
He pulled a gun on the guards. "Let me go and no one will get hurt," he growled. Father whipped around and steadied the barrel right in between my eyes. The guards stepped forward.
"Don't move," my father hissed.

Bang!

My father was suddenly cross-eyed, and he fell to the ground; the blood from the body I used to love dripped from his mouth.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't let another life be taken," the guard whispered solemnly.
I nodded. I was numb. I'd just watched my father die. I hobbled around searching faces for one I knew; then I saw her. She was the most gorgeous baby I had ever seen; I continued to stare then I tripped. I looked down to see what I had tripped over. It was my mom, a baby girl cradled in her arms.
"Mommy, you're alive! I missed you!" I exclaimed tears pouring from my eyes. I latched onto her in a grasp no one could break. I began to sob and tell the tales of the last few weeks.

Eight years later.......

" Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Maskia, Happy Birthday to you!" On this day I turned seventeen, who knew it would be such a horrible day. I walked outside to breath in fresh air and realized in two days it would be my sister Chizuko's birthday and the eighth aniversary of the bombing. Then I realized I had something to do. My sister's grade at school was having a track meet and Chizuko was chosen to represent the bamboo class. I started to make my way over to the dirt track. When I got there, Chizuko saw me and her smile widened. She trotted over to me. "Hey, Maskia," she chirped.
"Hey, are you exited." I asked
"Yes, I am even kinda dizzy," she added.
"Good," I chimed, "I'm going to the bleachers now, Good luck!"
"Thank you," she said gratefully and scampered over to the starting line.
I sat down and then I saw her, it was the girl from the bombing. I could tell it was her from her gorgeous smile. "Hi there." she chimed. Her voice sounded like the angels above were singing.
"Hi," I said nervously. "What's your name? I hope it's as pretty as your face."
She giggled. "My name is Latika."
"Ooh it is pretty," I said shyly. Then I sat down, and she sat next to me.
"Gooooooooooo!" screamed the announcer. The runners were off, including my sister. She was breezing past people. Then it happened, her eyes shut and she fell to the ground. The crowd held their breath as help rushed onto the track. Her teacher picked her limp body up off the field. I stood up, so did Latika. We rushed over to the teacher who was lifting her body into an ambulance. His eyes were closed, and he was shaking his head, not again.
My mother met us at the hospital. We waited awhile until the doctor called us in. "Ms. Chan, I'm afraid your daughter has the A- bomb disease."
My mother dropped to the floor crying, I knelt with her. We cried until the tears ran out. Then we went to comfort Chizuko.

"Honey," my mom said, "you have leukemia."
Chizuko started to cry. "I'm going to die," she whispered through tears. We all were silent, the once cheerful Chizuko was thinking about death.None of us spoke for a very long time. The silence was deafening.
Then the doctor came in. He was very tall and slim. "Miss?" the doctor addressed my mother. "I'm very sorry. Your daughter is very sick. She has only a few days to live."
I felt like the world would come to an end when this little soul went to the land behind the stars. We waited by Chizuko's side late into the night. We watched her sleep. She twitched uncontrollably. It was painful to watch. As she slept, I folded cranes. Legend says that when one thousand paper cranes are folded, they will heal. I had made three- hundred cranes by the time Chizuko opened her eyes.
"The cranes." She said in a trance. " They are gorgeous."
" Thank You." I said grateful she could see them. Her jaw dropped in surprise and she started to hack and wheeze. She started to look pale faced. I jumped into the chair and started folding cranes. My mother screamed and the nurses came rushing in. They put medicine into her IV and she fell asleep. That was the last time I saw Chizuko's eyes. The doctor asked us to leave so they could check her heart. We watched them start to rush around. They brought in the Defibrillator. Hooked it up to her lifeless body and shocked her. She didn't move, she was gone. To the land behind the stars. My little sister Chizuko passed away on her ninth birthday. I still think about her often. I am now sixty-three and have a wife and three children. I wish that my sister was able to be here and see the many beauties of life.

Battle of Iwo Jima ~by Ruben

BATTLE OF IWO JIMA
"Hey, it's Ira! The great hero from Iwo Jima!" exclaimed the crowd .
"I'm no hero; the real hero's are the ones who died for our country," said IRA in drunk voice.
"Anyone who served in WWII is a hero. Come on Ira. Tell us your story!"
"OK, " IRA said with a drunken look on his face. "But only if it will shut you up!"
The crowd screamed with joy


As soon as we hit the beach of Iwo Jima, the men to my right and my left were hit by mortars. My brain told my legs to move, but they did not respond. Bullets flew every which way barely missing me. The man in front of me jerked involuntarily as a hole ripped through him large enough to frame the Japanese gunner who was firing. Finally, Rene, one of the other soldiers, pulled me down on the dark sand. When I finally came back down to earth, I realized how much blood there was on the sand and how many boats had been destroyed. The beach was strewn with brains, intestines, and everything else usually kept inside the human body. Our commander, Stank, ordered us to take out the bunker that contained the man and the 47 caliber machine gun that was ripping through our men. We chucked every grenade we had at the enemy. BANG. BANG. The explosion was great. The Japs couldn’t see, but that didn’t stop them. They shot blindly; firing even on their own soldiers without knowing it. My whole squad stopped at one point, but I kept on running. I heard the whiz of bullets coming toward me. Once I reached the top of the bunker, I pointed my Thompson down and pulled the trigger, decimating every living soul in the bunker.

"Nice job, Hayes," yelled Strank, "those Japs probably didn't even know what happened until they met the devil himself!" I only grinned at the compliment. The whole squad sat in the bunker looking at the holes in the roof, shock registering on their faces. No one ever excepted that an Indian from a reservation would have the guts to do what no other man in the squad would dare to do. Their thoughts were suddenly put into place.

Now that we had taken the beaches, Mount Surabachi was our next target. As we climbed the mountain, struggling to gain control, more and more marines fell to the bullets of the Japanese. The bodies of the dead were filled with bullets coming from the Japanese. More and more bullets flew toward me, missing by centimeters. A bullet whizzed past me and hit Bradley in the leg. I watched as he fell a couple feet before the medics carried him away on a stretcher. After that, rage flowed through me like it was the blood pumped by my heart and soul. The only thing that mattered to me now was killing as many of the Japanese as possible. I wanted revenge for Bradley. I pulled out another magazine for my Thompson, my hand shaking. The deafening noises surrounding me only made it harder to concentrate. I put the magazine into the gun and let the hot lead fly from the barrel, hoping at least one bullet would hit its target, a Japanese gunner on the mountain. Finally after two magazines, one bullet hit its target. I watched a Japanese soldier grab his chest. The bullet breaking any bone in its path.

After the gunner was taken out, a lot of the heat let down. My squad was able to charge up the mountain. Once on top, we went into close quarters combat (cqc). One Japanese soldier pulled out a knife and came at me. I hit the knife out of his hand, and then I kicked the Jap over a nearby cliff. There was a scream, but before I could see the Jap hit the ground, another Jap armed with a knife came at me. I pulled my pistol out and shot the man in the chest cavity. He fell to the ground a couple inches from the edge of the cliff. As I was looking down at him, a grenade rolled to my feet. I kicked, but it still knocked me over. I opened my eyes and bullets were still flying everywhere. I couldn’t think straight or aim right, so I got on a mounted machine gun, the jap still holding his chest dying slowly, i shoved him out of the seat, grabbed the gun and fired blindly into the crowd of Japanese soldiers. Long after every Japanese soldier was dead and the mounted gun was out of bullets, I still kept my finger tightly closed on the trigger. The constant sound of clicking came from the empty gun. Finally, Rene came over and calmed me down. It was then we realized that we were half way to taking the island.

After we had taken Mt. Surabachi, my squad raised the American flag, more mortar fire came and we raced down the mountain to suppress the Japanese and keep them from getting any closer. All six of the flag raisers were there on their knees in the sand covered in blood. Most of it was American blood.

Strank was drawing a plan for us in the sand, and we heard the sound of mortar fire again. Then...suddenly, Strank was hit. He shattered; his guts, brain matter, arms and legs flew in every direction. We all just sat in shock. Our first in command had just been blown to pieces right before our eyes. "What are we supposed to do now?" someone asked, for all I know it could have been me. Finally someone else stepped up and took our commander’s place, Corporal Bradley.

"Well? Are we just going to sit here in grief because one man sacrificed his life for his country? If you haven't noticed that's has been happening all around you!” yelled Bradley. "Are we going to sit here and cry or are we going to kill some Japs and help our country and win this island over!" Little did Bradley know that those would be his last words, for just an hour later as we were rushing into more Japanese resistance, Bradley came to the same fate as Strank, leaving only four of us: Block, Rene, Franklin, and me.

After we had a better handle on the island, we started to get shipments of flamethrowers and gallons of gasoline from our allies. We had more and more marines come in to help secure the island. We had pretty much taken over the island all we needed to do is clear out the foxholes and get the Japanese out into the open. We poured gasoline in the entrances of the foxholes and had men waiting with guns to either shoot resistant Japs or take them prisoners. We all knew that a Japanese soldier would rather fight to the death than to surrender. We were ready. At other times we would use the flamethrowers to chase them out into the open so that our sharp shooters could shoot them. Of course we couldn’t get all the foxholes, but that would be dealt with later.

Finally, Franklin, Rene, and I were running back to the boats. Rene in front of me and Franklin was in back. I was looking at Franklin, and he had an expression on his face that said, "We did it! We finally did it!" He was proud. Then, I heard a sound that was too familiar, and Franklin dropped, a hole in his back oozed color red. Looking past him, I saw a Jap running back into a foxhole. Rage flowed through me mixed with my own blood. I took my last grenade. I pulled the pin and held the trigger to let it cook. I then turned around and threw it into the foxhole. The Jap crawled out and yelled something I didn't understand, but it was too late for him. The grenade exploded.

They had to pull me back before I went back in and got myself killed. We loaded onto the boat. Once we were on the way to Okinawa, I decided to stop making friends. Maybe if I didn't make friends, I wouldn't care if they died. I know that every death touched my heart, ripping a bit of it away. One bit for each of my fellow marines who died. Was it possible to witness all that death and not care? not be impacted? I pondered these questions until my head ached. Finally, we reached Okinawa...

(Thump!)

The crowd gasped as they stared at Ira laying on the bar room floor. He had survived Iwo Jima and Okinawa, but he would not survive this night. Ira lay dead on the floor of the bar. As the crowd disapated, they all knew a bit of their heart was ripped away. They all knew this is what war does to people.

By ~ Ruben

D-Day ~by Anders

Waves crashed up against the boat. The boat softly rocked back and forth in the night. Loud sounds of other soldiers gambling and getting drunk kept me awake. Snoring kept me awake. I stayed up later and later checking my weapons and ammunition. Me, I don't know what I was thinking. Thoughts of what the day would hold swirled through my mind? Was I going to die today? No one knew.


General Eisenhower marched onto the ship. The troops were called to attention. "It's time to go," someone said to the general. He moved in front of the troops and cleared his throat. "Alright boys, the big wigs finally made up their minds. D-Day begins now! We will be part of the 82nd infantry division. The 82nd and we will be attacking Omaha Beach along with several other infantry divisions and a few tank divisions. Air support will take out panzer's and major bunkers before we land. Remember, look out for each other. I want as few of you as possible to die. Let's go."

The impact of his words were like a sledgehammer to the gullet. If we weren't scared before, we were now. Sarge led us towards our assigned position for the trip to Normandy.

Sarge, my entire regiment, and I were all scared to death as we loaded into the landing boat called a DUKW. These boats were amphibious 2 ½ ton vehicles that were both a truck and a boat. They usually usually carried supplies, but today they carried men, most to their deaths. Claustrophobia and death were racing through out our minds. Prayer was our only answer. I prayed to God to let me live, and I heard others doing the same. There was a buzzer, and it was time. It was time to rush from the boat and fight for our lives, fight for America, fight for freedom.

We were the first ship to arrive. I had no clue what to expect, what to do. I can hear the Germans firing. The bullets denting our DUKW. Suddenly the back dropped and bullets started to rain in. I was in the back of the ship, crammed into the little corner. My group and I were to scattered as we jumped out of the boat and into the water. Many soldiers never left the boat.

I jumped into the water. It was turning red. Bodies were floating in the water, lifeless. I felt like I was the last person alive. I was scared out of my wits. Despite my instincts, I swam toward shore, toward the bullets.
I ran onto the beach. Within moments, I felt something. I fell down, hurt. Clutching my hip, I saw my sarge drifting past me. Then just as quickly, he was dead. I knew I had to move away from the bloody water and death. With pain, fear, and anger in my eyes, I ran toward the Germans. Dodging bullets, I felt invincible. Finally, I dove into a bunker and found a moment of safety.


How did I get here, I thought. Why aren't my friends and Sarge protected like me? Guilt made me think I should be lying dead on the beach with them.


Starring at those angry Germans with my grenade in hand, I pulled the pin...........but it was too late.

By ~ Anders