Hiroshima memories dimming

HIROSHIMA, Japan -- Heads bowed in prayer and memory, the citizens of this self-styled City of Peace fell silent at 8:15 a.m. yesterday, 60 years from the instant of the atomic flash that vaporized the heart of their city and hurled mankind into the nuclear age.

Temple bells that had been ringing for the dead stopped to mark the moment when an American B-29 bomber dropped its atomic cargo over Hiroshima, killing 70,000 people on the spot from concussion and fire and debris. Another 70,000 died from the effects of radiation.

It was also an act that many argue hastened an end to a world war that had already seen tens of millions die.

A onetime garrison town for Japan's Imperial Army, Hiroshima has since turned its tragedy into a platform for peace and nuclear disarmament. The cry was made more poignant this year by advancing ages of the hibakusha, or ''bomb-affected people." Hiroshima's mayor, Tadatoshi Akiba, called the ceremony a ''time of inheritance, of awakening, and of commitment, in which we inherit the commitment of the hibakusha to the abolition of nuclear weapons and recommit ourselves to take action."

But there is also an uneasy sense among many in this nation that Japan's collective pacifist voice has become shaky with age. The last witnesses to the atomic attacks are increasingly infirm or dying, with little sign that the country's unique experience of having been attacked with atomic weapons resonates with younger generations.

''I think they regard preventing war as someone else's problem," said Taichi Ueno, 24, part of a small group of peace activists who traveled to Hiroshima for the ceremony. ''About war, they say: `It wouldn't happen to me.' "

Indeed, peace activists say there is a ritualistic feel to the annual commemoration at Hiroshima. The national broadcaster, NHK, broadcast the ceremony live but cut away from the speeches appealing for peace after just 20 minutes, returning to its regularly scheduled drama series ''Fight."

''Only on this day are people enthusiastic about peace -- that's it," said Yuki Shibazaki, 17. Her high school class was supposed to designate two representatives to attend yesterday's ceremony, but there were no volunteers. ''I don't have any clear sense about war or peace," she said. ''To be honest, for the locals, it is an inconvenience and annoying to have a ceremony like this."

That complacency worries Hiroshima survivors, who warn that complacency about the bombing makes war more likely.

The apathy is measurable. Annual attendance at the Hiroshima Peace Park peaked at 1.6 million in 1991 and has fallen to barely more than a million.

There are some in Hiroshima who argue that the Peace Park needs other diversions for students visiting on day trips (a zoo is one suggestion) to try to stimulate attendance.

But older Japanese argue that an atomic blast site should be enough to hold a teen's attention.

''The students must see the materials in detail. They must be moved fundamentally by the Hiroshima victims," says Motofumi Asai, 64, director of the Hiroshima Peace Institute.