And yet, it can convincingly be argued that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not hugely important in the context of Japan in 1945. What many people forget is that huge swathes of the country had already been utterly obliterated by the most extensive bombing raids the world had ever seen. These were conventional bombs, but no less effective at slaughtering civilians.

Tokyo, for example, had been completely incinerated, with around 100,000 people killed. US bomber crews could smell charred flesh as they flew over the firestorms. Dozens of other Japanese cities had been flattened under the never-ending barrage. Yet, despite this nationwide inferno, surrender wasn’t forthcoming. One politician, Kijūrō Shidehara, echoed the general sentiment when he suggested their “unity and resolve would grow stronger”, and that it was important to endure the attacks in order to negotiate the best outcome, further along the line.

So when President Truman, hinting at the nuclear attacks to come, said that the Japanese could “expect a rain of ruin from the air” if they didn’t surrender, it wasn’t really much of a threat. There had already been a rain of ruin, and it hadn’t changed the Japanese game-plan. When Hiroshima happened, Japan realised a new kind of weapon had been unleashed, but the devastation was not significantly different to what they had seen in countless cities already. It’s only from our vantage point today that the mushroom clouds eclipse everything else.