To think about, before starting a new war

I heard her voice calling "Mother, Mother." I went towards the sound. She was completely burned. The skin had come of her head altogether, leaving a twisted knot at the top. My daughter said, "Mother, you´re late, please take me back quickly." She said it was hurting a lot. But there were no doctors. There was nothing I could do. So I covered up her naked body and held her in my arms for nine hours. At about eleven o´clock that night she cried out again "Mother," and put her hand around my neck. It was already ice-cold. I said, "Please say Mother again." But that was the last time.

Hiroshima survivor, cited in Bel Mooney, "Beyond the Wasteland", in Over Our Dead Bodies: Women Against the Bomb, ed. Dorothy Thompson (London: Virago press, 1983)