Hersey quietly contributed to their narrations by deciding which facts to use and the order in which to assemble them. He wanted to go beyond the facts as the survivors saw them and get to deeper truths about that day. To their narratives, he would add information about the governments and their dictums, the scientific explanations of what had happened, and some of the medical repercussions (as far as they could be determined). His own voice was absent or understated considerably — he let the stories of the survivors do the talking. To assemble the stories in the best possible dramatic sequence, he had to consider each story's effect on the reader carefully.
What is left out of the book is equally informative. Nowhere does Hersey state specifically what he thought of that day or its aftermath. Nowhere does he discuss nuclear disarmament. (Although he does mention escalating landmarks in the arms race.) Nowhere will the reader find Hersey's stated reactions to the narratives of the survivors, other than an occasional ironic comment. Nowhere does he question or agree with the decision to drop the bomb. Instead, he allows readers to draw their own conclusions from the facts as he perceives them through his understanding of the stories of "the lucky ones."
In examining Hersey's life and career, the reader can clearly see that his writing over 50 years spanned the gamut of social issues, including education, individual rights, censorship, racism, the Holocaust, and the restlessness and polarized factions of the 1960s. Throughout his career, he felt a responsibility to speak out both in the world of the journalist and in the world of the private citizen. In effect, Hiroshima is the best of both worlds: the factual, journalistic style of the gifted reporter and the responsibility of the citizen to break the silence.
