Michas Ohnstad was one of the first Americans to enter Hiroshima in September 1945, just weeks after the dropping of the atomic bomb. Fresh out of high school in rural Minnesota, the World War II veteran assisted a team of American and Japanese doctors aiding and interviewing thousands of Japanese survivors. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it,” he said. He was 18 years old.
His story is part of our documentary, “Atomic Echoes: Untold Stories from World War II,” which is scheduled to air on American public television stations in August.
Earlier this month, President Trump signed an executive order to end funding for public television and public radio.
Our documentary — and Michas’s story — will hopefully still air under what funding remains. But what other stories won’t be told? Renowned documentaries like Ken Burns’s “The War,” Frontline’s “The Last Survivors” and Rick Beyer’s “The Ghost Army” have all premiered on public television. They represent our country’s history, not a wedge issue.
Texas veteran Archie Moczygemba will turn 101 years old this Fourth of July. Eighty years ago, he was one of the first Marines to enter Nagasaki in September 1945. Totally unprepared for the extent of the devastation, he still remembers the patterns of the Japanese women’s kimonos burned onto their skin.
South Carolina resident Larry Pressley was also there, although the two men never met. In 1945, at only 17, he fought in the Pacific and was also assigned to be part of the occupation forces in Nagasaki. He has spoken publicly about his shock over the level of destruction he encountered.
Michas, Archie and Larry are three of just a handful of surviving World War II atomic veterans — the first Americans to have witnessed the effects of nuclear war firsthand.
As of 2024, only 66,143 of the 16.4 million Americans who served in World War II were still alive, with over 100 dying a day. As for atomic veterans, there are almost none left with us. In our journey to make the film, we identified only seven Americans still alive who were assigned to duty in Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the fall of 1945.
When they pass away, the only American stories to remind us of that period in history, which critically informs the world’s decisions about atomic weapons today, will be what was preserved in writing or film — thanks to platforms like public television.
Public television and radio are vital because they offer programming that educates, informs and inspires — without the sensationalism that is necessary to get a story on air through most other platforms. Because public media is not beholden to advertisers or corporate owners, it can focus on in-depth, balanced storytelling, rather than clicks or ratings.
War documentaries have an outsized emotional impact on us because they are real. The survivors of these dark periods are the living archives of both war and peace. They have seen the worst and sometimes the best of humanity. Isn’t that something we should know about?
Stories like those of Michas, Archie and Larry are worth being told — but what will happen if no one hears them? If funding to public broadcasting is cut, what will happen to the stories that urgently need to be told?
The reality is, those who have such stories to tell will grow old. And then they will be gone. Every second we waste is a second too long.
Karin Tanabe is a first-generation Japanese American and the author of seven novels. Victoria Kelly is a Marine veteran spouse, novelist and poet. Their documentary, “Atomic Echoes: Untold Stories of World War II,” will be available on public television this summer.
