英語訳
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*(Continued from previous page)* ...was found in a thicket on high ground about one *chō* (approximately 109 meters) away.
**One:** In the prison cell block, as soon as the night-duty guards heard the same rumbling as described before, one person reported "A great tsunami is coming!" The surging waves swept in and knocked down the wooden fences, immediately flooding the cell block to a depth of over six *shaku* (approximately 1.8 meters). The prisoners climbed up onto the square-barred windows calling for rescue. The guards, risking their lives, barely managed to break open the cell doors using large stepping stones, and when the water force began to ease somewhat, they released all of the prisoners (see illustration).
**One:** The released prisoners, admirably, gathered in swarms near the chief guard's residence, and were promptly evacuated to Tennyūji Temple, the highest point on the hillside at that location. Of the seven who died, the bodies of two were recovered, but the remaining individuals are still unaccounted for.
**One:** The outer enclosure was entirely washed away and the cell block was severely destroyed, making it impossible to continue operating as a work station. We plan to await further instructions at a later date, but for the time being, twenty-eight prisoners have been kept temporarily to clean up, while the remainder have all been withdrawn to the main prison. The only structures remaining are the cell block, the administrative office, and the kitchen. I believe that these survived because they were relatively impermeable to water and thus less subject to water pressure. The floorboards were pushed up by the water and bulged upward in an arched shape. To briefly describe the scene in that area: clothing and other items were caught on branches some one *jō* (approximately 3 meters) above the ground; in higher places, bedding and futons were found thrown up in great numbers — the scene was truly unbearable to witness. It has not yet been confirmed, but reportedly more than twenty civilians were also unaccounted for, the report ends here.
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**●Motoyoshi District, Same Prefecture**
**●Aikawa Village**
At the time of the tsunami, in Aikawa, three children who had crawled up onto the roof of a house were crying and screaming "Help us! Help us!" but there was nothing to be done. As onlookers watched in horror, a large roof came floating in from behind and crashed into them — and then both the roof and the children were gone. "Only their voices still ring in my ears," said an elderly man, wiping tears from his face.
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Meanwhile, children — oblivious to all of this — were happily striking bells, waving small flags, and crying out "Long live the Army!" as they played. Ah, shall we call it tragic? Shall we call it heartbreaking? (See illustration.)
The Miyagi Branch of the Red Cross arrived at this location on the sixteenth and admitted patients to a temporary field hospital, sending the most serious cases to the Red Cross branch headquarters in Shizugawa.
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**●Shizugawa Town**
**A Brave Woman Saves Four from Near-Certain Death**
Near Shizugawa Town, at a beach called Arato-hama, there lived a man named Sakamoto Ryōtarō, an official at the county office and a former retainer of the Ichinoseki domain. On the night of the disaster he happened to be staying in Shizugawa Town and was fortunately unharmed, but at his home he had left only his elderly parents, his daughter, and her two young children. When the muddy surge rushed in, almost without a moment's notice, the daughter's nursing infant was swept away from her arms; she fought desperately to reclaim the child, then quickly stripped off her clothes, held the infant in one arm, and somehow swam out of the house. Finding no trace of the grandparents, she tied the infant to a tree root on high ground, then swam back to the house. By the time she reached it, the water had fortunately begun to recede to knee-depth, and so she forced open the sliding storm shutters and broke in. Not only were the household belongings gone, but there was no sign of anyone at all; calling out desperately, she faintly heard a voice from somewhere beneath the veranda. Gathering her strength, she pried up the floorboards to find the grandparents and the eldest granddaughter (five years old) alive, crouching in the space below. "Why on earth are you in such a place?" she asked. The grandfather explained: "While we were swimming through the house carrying the baby girl under our arms, the veranda boards somehow flipped over and we fell beneath them, unable to move at all. We had resigned ourselves to whatever fate would bring — and then the tide went out, and you came, and here we all are, safe and sound. There is nothing better than this." The whole family wept tears of joy.
There was also a man who saw his wife swept into the waves and jumped in after her to save her, but the force of the churning water was too much for him. He managed briefly to grab his wife's sleeve, but was swept together with the great waves from the reclaimed land into a narrow channel, was carried under the bridge between the old and new towns, and was thrown against a silk-reeling factory near the cliff further upstream; clinging desperately to the rough-cut stakes driven into the ground there, he sustained wounds over much of his body but barely survived with his life. Yet he was left alone not knowing where his wife's body had been carried away. Their child, however, had been swept far away with the child's nursemaid to the other side of a mountain, and both were found safe and alive.
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In this manner, coming to the reclaimed land area and meeting those who had survived, and hearing from them the circumstances of that time, they were all people who had found one life among ten thousand deaths, and not a single word or phrase was without the seed of tears. Thinking from the perspective of the victims: if the entire village had been submerged it might still be possible to resign oneself to it, but when the area just one or two *chō* away had not lost even a single piece of firewood — while one's household goods, and one's own parents and children and siblings, had all been swept away without exception — with no one left to even talk with, and while the very foundation stones on which one's home stood remain, not a speck of dust is left upon them — facing the question of how one is to live from today onward, one is utterly at a loss. Those who pass by offer words of sympathy, but no one gives so much as a single *bita* coin in aid. Compared to one's own catastrophe, the fact that a neighbor's wall has fallen seems like nothing at all — and yet some people weep and rage within their own households about their losses, while others, saying "This is no time to be hiring labor — not during the critical silkworm season," pick mulberry leaves without a second thought. There is not a sight to be envied anywhere, but in this situation, the truly pitiable ones are perhaps those in places where the number of houses washed away was not large.
About one *ri* (approximately 4 km) from Shizugawa there is a small village called Oritate, belonging to Tokura Village. Since it also runs along the Shizugawa River, it received the same devastating inundation; in the worst cases, seven out of thirteen members of a single household drowned. And the bodies, washed away to who knows where, have not yet been found.
Along the back roads near Oritate, enormous timbers lay scattered in all directions in numbers beyond counting, continuing for nearly one *ri* with no end in sight. These were all the remnants of houses that had been pushed this far inland by the tsunami — whether hundreds or thousands of them, one could only shudder in speechless horror.
**○ Startled by Every Sound — False Tsunami Alarm**
In Shizugawa Town, around 9 o'clock in the morning of the 21st,
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old and young, men and women, all cried out in one voice "The tsunami is coming again!" and the whole town was thrown into uproar from one end to the other. Parents called out for their children, children searched for their parents, all scrambling to flee while screaming in terror — so much so that even the staff stationed at the county office rushed headlong up the mountain. But when time passed and they looked out at the sea, there was no sign whatsoever of any such disturbance. Everyone was puzzling over this strange state of affairs when a police officer climbed the ladder of the police station bell tower and called out loudly: "It is not a tsunami! Everyone, be calm!" At this, the crowd finally relaxed and felt as though they had come back to life. As for what had triggered the panic, it was later learned that a small steamship anchored near the town's coastline had discharged steam from its boiler, and the sound was so similar to the rumbling heard before the tsunami on the fifteenth that, without anyone in particular saying so, the rumor of "tsunami" had spread from person to person. (See illustration.)
In Shizugawa there was an inn called *Kōzantei*. Its proprietor, a man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age, was managing alone, with nearly eighty lodgers yet not a single woman in the place — only rickshaw men and the like had gathered to help with the household duties. Finding it odd that an inn should be run as a bachelor household, the reporter found a moment to ask the proprietor, who replied dejectedly: "It was not always a bachelor household. On the day of the tsunami, my four family members — my wife and children — had gone to a relative's home at *Oki no Suke* to help with various household tasks, and there, quite unexpectedly, they were caught in the disaster. All four drowned, and even now the bodies of two of them have not been found. If they had been living at *Oki no Suke* in the first place, I might find it easier to accept — but that of all days they should have gone out to help on that very day, what dreadful karma. It was as though they went there to die." He was utterly crushed.
Among the more darkly comic incidents in the midst of all this chaos: a townsman, hearing a great booming sound, cried out "That's enemy cannon fire!" and leaped out of the house, frantically leading his horse out — not yet knowing that his own house had already floated away. Turning around and seeing a large roof floating past, he mistook it for a warship and, shouting "The Russians! The Russians!" over and over, collapsed in a faint.
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**●Shimizu Village**