The Story of a Comet Hunter's Life

    July 4 is the date when Kochi city was devastated in huge air-raids during the Second World War.
    Every year on this day, they hold various events and exhibitions of war-time photos and personal objects left by victims to pass the memories of the war-time miseries on to the next generations. Kochi city's scorched desert-like landscapes heightened by intense mid-summer sun, the sight of devastation has been deeply etched in my mind and never forgotten.
    On July 3, 1940, our family was in the bomb shelter in the courtyard late at night. With the worsening war, all the households dug bomb shelters. Everybody wasted no time in doing evacuation drills in the streets. I have one precious photo of our bomb shelter taken by my Gucci miniature camera. I was a first-year junior high school student then, but rarely went to school. When the war reached a crucial state, we students were engaged in war-related work in the mountains and on the shores within the prefecture.
    At 3 o'clock in the morning, I heard an air-raid warning on the radio I had brought into the shelter with me. The air-raid information for central Japan reported that a B-29 formation was moving north over Murotomisaki (Cape Muroto). This meant the sound peculiar to the four-engine-propeller-driven bombers would be heard exactly 10 minutes later and pass overhead. But that particular night, the bombers didn't arrive. I wanted to go out of the shelter and be relieved of dark stifling air in it. Being fully aware of danger, I walked out of the shelter and stood outside. I noticed a bluish shining star over my head. It was the star softly shining always around the time of the Tanabata (star) festival (July 7) overhead.
    War was raging on the ground and we weren't sure if we would be still alive tomorrow. But up in the starry sky there is peace. I fondly remember the day of Tanabata, when I was young child. Celebrating Tanabata, I put up two bamboo sticks and hung paper strips from them with my wishes to the stars written. As we were celebrating Tanabata on the lunar calendar in those days, weather was stable and fine, typical of mid-August weather. Late at night, cool breezes would start and numerous paper strips made a rustling sound. It was like hearing the murmur of the running river Milky Way. Everyday was peaceful…Lost in the memories of those days, I was watching the stars gently illuminating the ground. All of a sudden, the sky over the mountains in the south was brightened by burst of light and looked like daytime. My peaceful moments with the starry skies were shattered and the world turned into hellish scenes in an instant. It was a single star shell dropped from a B-29 bomber.
    Air-raids started with the sounds like fireworks near and far. The ground shook each time a bomb exploded. I heard a commotion around us. It was the noises made by people escaping from fires caused by incendiary bombs dropped nearby. My family evacuated to Kagamigawa river to our south. By then, as the city was burning, the sky to our north was bright scarlet similar to an intense evening glow in autumn. The peaceful city turned into a scene from hell in a flash. Stunned, we were standing on the southern shore of the river staring at burning houses in the direction of our home. Napalm bombs exploded in midair many times and we were showered by falling sparks. The whole of Kochi city looked engulfed in a gigantic candle. We were struck by extreme fear beyond words.
    Two hours into the air raids, suddenly a huge B-29 appeared in the burning fire and plunged into the inferno head first. The plane's tail was belching fire furiously. The B-29's peculiar sweptback wings and four engines were silhouetted beautifully against a curtain of red flames. It was so close to us that I anticipated a loud exploding sound and covered my ears over the protective hood I was wearing. But I didn't hear the explosion as it was drowned out by the roaring sound of the fiercely burning city. At that very moment, I heard an ear-piercing sound of a low-flying fighter plane. I saw "Raiden" fighter planes stationed at a navy airdrome at Mishsima village (present Kochi Ryoma Airport) where we were sent by war-time student mobilization. I was remembering a smiling face of lieutenant Kurihara. "Do not warry. We will never let even a single plane get close to Japan."
    Kochi city continued to burn for two days and 70% of the city was reduced to ashes. Our family had evacuated to our father's hometown Komeda and spent over one month there until the end of the war. Komeda was blessed with untouched nature with beautiful skies and fresh air. The starry skies there must have been magnificent, but the stars were not in my mind at that time.
    Incidentally, Mr. Minoru Honda must have been in Malaya in the army. It is well-known that he discovered a comet (Grigg-Skjellerup) in Singapore under Japanese occupation and sent a telegram back to Japan. Five years later, Mr. Honda returned to Japan and paved the way to Modern Japan's phenomenal success in comet discovery.