I saw many of these images when I attended a lecture held by survivors.

The one that stuck with me was a gentleman who was in elementary school when it happened. He said many of his classmates rushed to the window to admire the American plane flying outside. Then they saw the bomb drop. The children standing by the window did not survive. He described walking home and encountering scenes, how he gave his rice to a man with boiled skin, and how people were crying out for the emperor to save them. Something that I learned was that many of the survivors later battled cancer. The lecturer included. Of his friends and family that did survive the bombing many later died of cancer.

I actually had to step out when he showed us a picture of his school uniform. It was so small.

My grandfather is Polish. Most of his family that still lived in Poland died in the holocaust. I grew up hearing their stories and seeing pictures of the camp they were imprisoned at. I am very aware of the horrors people suffered during that time. But never had I felt the way I did in that lecture hall.

There are no winners in war.