"The eyebrows of some were burned off and skin hung from their faces and hands. Others, because of the pain, held their arms up as if carrying something in both hands. Some were vomiting as they walked. Many were naked or in shreds of clothing. On some undressed bodies, the burns had made patterns of undershirt straps and suspenders and, on the skin of some women, the shapes of flowers they had on their kimonos." (Chapter 2, pg. 39)
Hersey spares no details when describing the injuries inflicted by the bomb, and passages like this one often get gory as he paints a picture of the blood, burns, and terror of the suffering victims. This is so that readers can get a full idea of how terrible this event was, and how deeply the people of Hiroshima were affected. It is also because he is a reporter, and his job is to report every part of the truth—no matter how gruesome it is.
"But the drops were palpably water, and as they fell, the wind grew stronger and stronger, and suddenly—probably because of the tremendous convection set up by the blazing city—a whirlwind ripped through the park. Huge trees crashed down; small ones were uprooted and flew into the air. Higher, a wild array of flat things revolved in the twisting funnel pieces of iron roofing, papers, doors, strips of matting." (Chapter 2, pg. 50)
This paragraph of rich detail comes when all the survivors are gathered in Asano Park. A storm hits them following the worst of the fire, as if the victims had not suffered enough already. The storm is fierce and terrible, but in a way, it also refreshes them. Rain is the opposite of fire, rejuvenating rather than destroying, and it comes at a time when the citizens of Hiroshima need very much to be cleansed of this terrible thing that has happened.
"By now he was accustomed to the terrible scene through which he walked on his way into the city; the large rice field near the Novitiate, streaked with brown; the houses on the outskirts of the city, standing but decrepit, with broken windows and disheveled tiles; then, quite suddenly, the beginning of the four square miles of reddish-brown scar, where nearly everything had been buffeted down and burned; range on range of collapsed city blocks, with here and there a crude sign erected on a pile of ashes and tiles; naked trees and canted telephone poles... in the streets a macabre traffic—hundreds of crumpled bicycles, shells of street cars and automobiles, all halted in mid-motion." (Chapter 4, pg. 83)
In the weeks following the bombing, Hersey attempts to convey the sheer scale of the destruction through rich language describing Father Kleinsorge's walk from the Novitiate back into the center of the city. Miles upon miles of the land surrounding Hiroshima has been affected, and the very center is nothing at all, leveled to the ground completely. This type of destruction has never before been seen, since this was the first ever atomic bomb used in warfare.
"Most burns healed with deep layers of pink, rubbery scar tissue, known as keloid tumors." (Chapter 4, pg. 95)
The keloids are an important part of this report, since Dr. Sasaki continues to treat them years after the attack. They are a physical manifestation of the tragedy that remains on victims' skin long after their broken bones have healed and their cuts have been mended. The citizens of Hiroshima will never truly be able to forget what happened, even though the memories slowly fade, because it still remains etched onto their bodies in the form of literal scars.
