“`html
At 08:15 on August 6, 1945, as the atomic bomb fell upon Hiroshima, Lee Jung-soon was en route to elementary school.
Now 88, she gestures dismissively, as if to ward off the recollection.
“My father was leaving for work, but he rushed back, telling us to evacuate immediately,” she recounts. “They say the streets were littered with the dead – I was so shocked, I only remember crying. I just cried incessantly.”
Ms. Lee describes victims whose bodies “melted away, leaving only their eyes visible,” as a blast, equivalent to 15,000 tons of TNT, engulfed a city of 420,000. The aftermath left corpses too disfigured for identification.
“The atomic bomb… it is a weapon of unparalleled terror.”
Eighty years have passed since the United States detonated ‘Little Boy’, the first atomic bomb deployed in human history, over Hiroshima, resulting in the immediate deaths of approximately 70,000 individuals. Tens of thousands more perished in the ensuing months due to radiation sickness, burns, and dehydration.
The catastrophic impact of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – which decisively concluded World War Two and Japanese imperial dominion across vast regions of Asia – has been extensively documented for eight decades.
Less widely acknowledged is the fact that Koreans constituted approximately 20% of the immediate victims.
Korea had been under Japanese colonial rule for 35 years when the bomb was deployed. An estimated 140,000 Koreans resided in Hiroshima at that time, many having been relocated due to forced labor mobilization or seeking survival amidst colonial exploitation.
Those who survived the atomic blast, along with their descendants, continue to live under the enduring shadow of that day – grappling with disfigurement, pain, and a decades-long pursuit of justice that remains unresolved.
“No one accepts responsibility,” states Shim Jin-tae, an 83-year-old survivor. “Not the nation that dropped the bomb, nor the nation that failed to protect us. America has never issued an apology. Japan feigns ignorance. Korea fares no better. They merely deflect blame – leaving us isolated.”
Mr. Shim currently resides in Hapcheon, South Korea: a small county, now home to numerous survivors like himself and Ms. Lee, earning it the moniker “Korea’s Hiroshima.”
For Ms. Lee, the trauma of that day remains vivid, manifesting physically as illness. She currently battles skin cancer, Parkinson’s disease, and angina, a condition characterized by reduced blood flow to the heart, typically causing chest pain.
However, what weighs most heavily is that her suffering has extended to her son, Ho-chang, who supports her. He has been diagnosed with kidney failure and is undergoing dialysis while awaiting a transplant.
“I believe it stems from radiation exposure, but who can substantiate it?” Ho-chang Lee inquires. “Scientific verification is challenging, necessitating genetic testing, which is both arduous and costly.”
The Ministry of Health and Welfare (MOHW) informed the BBC that it had collected genetic data between 2020 and 2024 and would continue further research until 2029. It would “consider broadening the definition of victims” to include second- and third-generation survivors only “if the results demonstrate statistical significance,” it stated.
Of the 140,000 Koreans present in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing, many originated from Hapcheon.
Surrounded by mountains with limited arable land, it was a challenging place to live. Crops were confiscated by Japanese occupiers, droughts devastated the land, and thousands of people migrated from the rural area to Japan during the war. Some were forcibly conscripted; others were enticed by the promise of “three meals a day and education for their children.”
However, in Japan, Koreans were relegated to second-class status, often assigned the most arduous, unsanitary, and hazardous occupations. Mr. Shim recounts that his father was a forced laborer in a munitions factory, while his mother hammered nails into wooden ammunition crates.
In the aftermath of the bombing, this labor distribution translated into perilous and frequently fatal work for Koreans in Hiroshima.
“Korean workers were tasked with cleaning up the deceased,” Mr. Shim, the director of the Hapcheon branch of the Korean Atomic Bomb Victims Association, told BBC Korean. “Initially, they used stretchers, but the sheer number of bodies overwhelmed them. Eventually, they resorted to using dustpans to gather corpses and incinerated them in schoolyards.”
“This task was primarily undertaken by Koreans. Most of the post-war cleanup and munitions work was carried out by us.”
According to a study by the Gyeonggi Welfare Foundation, some survivors were compelled to clear debris and recover bodies. While Japanese evacuees sought refuge with relatives, Koreans, lacking local connections, remained in the city, exposed to radioactive fallout – and with limited access to medical assistance.
These factors – mistreatment, hazardous labor, and systemic discrimination – collectively contributed to a disproportionately high mortality rate among Koreans.
The Korean Atomic Bomb Victims Association estimates the Korean fatality rate at 57.1%, compared to the overall rate of approximately 33.7%.
Around 70,000 Koreans were exposed to the bomb. By the year’s end, approximately 40,000 had succumbed to its effects.
Following the bombings, which precipitated Japan’s surrender and Korea’s subsequent liberation, approximately 23,000 Korean survivors returned home. However, they were met with hostility. Branded as disfigured or cursed, they encountered prejudice even in their own land.
“Hapcheon already had a leper colony,” Mr. Shim explains. “And due to that association, people assumed that the bomb survivors also had skin diseases.”
Such stigma compelled survivors to remain silent about their plight, he adds, suggesting that “survival took precedence over pride.”
Ms. Lee attests that she witnessed this “with her own eyes.”
“People with severe burns or extreme poverty were treated abysmally,” she recalls. “In our village, some individuals had backs and faces so severely scarred that only their eyes were visible. They were denied marriage and ostracized.”
Stigma engendered poverty and hardship. Then came inexplicable illnesses: skin diseases, heart conditions, kidney failure, cancer. The symptoms were ubiquitous – yet their etiology remained elusive.
Over time, attention shifted to the second and third generations.
Han Jeong-sun, a second-generation survivor, suffers from avascular necrosis in her hips, rendering her unable to walk without dragging herself. Her first son was born with cerebral palsy.
“My son has never taken a single step in his life,” she laments. “And my in-laws treated me despicably. They said, ‘You bore a crippled child, and you’re crippled yourself—are you here to ruin our family?'”
“That period was an unmitigated hell.”
For decades, the Korean government itself showed little interest in its own victims, prioritizing the war with the North and economic challenges.
It was only in 2019 – more than 70 years after the bombing – that MOHW released its first fact-finding report. That survey relied primarily on questionnaires.
In response to BBC inquiries, the ministry clarified that prior to 2019, “There was no legal basis for funding or official investigations.”
However, two separate studies had indicated that second-generation victims were more susceptible to illness. One study from 2005 demonstrated that second-generation victims were significantly more likely than the general population to experience depression, heart disease, and anemia, while another from 2013 found their disability registration rate to be nearly double the national average.
Against this backdrop, Ms. Han expresses disbelief that authorities continue to demand proof to recognize her and her son as victims of Hiroshima.
“My illness is the proof. My son’s disability is the proof. This pain is inherited across generations, and it’s visible,” she asserts. “Yet they refuse to acknowledge it. So, what are we expected to do – simply die without ever being recognized?”
Only last month, on July 12, did Hiroshima officials visit Hapcheon for the first time to lay flowers at a memorial. While former PM Hatoyama Yukio and other private individuals had visited previously, this marked the first official visit by current Japanese officials.
“Now, in 2025, Japan speaks of peace. But peace without apology is meaningless,” contends Junko Ichiba, a long-time Japanese peace activist who has devoted most of her life to advocating for Korean Hiroshima victims.
She emphasizes that the visiting officials made no mention of, nor offered any apology for, Japan’s treatment of Korean people before and during World War Two.
Although multiple former Japanese leaders have expressed their apologies and remorse, many South Koreans perceive these sentiments as insincere or insufficient without formal acknowledgment.
Ms. Ichiba points out that Japanese textbooks continue to omit the history of Korea’s colonial past – as well as its atomic bomb victims – asserting that “this invisibility only exacerbates the injustice.”
This contributes to what many consider a broader lack of accountability for Japan’s colonial legacy.
Heo Jeong-gu, director of the Red Cross’s support division, stated, “These issues… must be addressed while survivors are still alive. For the second and third generations, we must gather evidence and testimonies before it’s too late.”
For survivors like Mr. Shim, it’s not solely about compensation – it’s about recognition.
“Memory transcends compensation,” he asserts. “Our bodies remember what we endured… If we forget, it will recur. And someday, there will be no one left to recount the story.”
Donald Butt says he went into the Royal Marines “as a boy and came out as a man”.
John Henry Smythe is being remembered as a heroic WWII resident after being given a blue plaque.
The region was home to a number of factories building planes vital to the war effort.
Shaun and Carrie Tullier have plans to convert the building – but want to keep the history inside.
The platypus was a top secret gift from Australia, found dead in his enclosure as war raged in the seas around him.
“`