IN ONE hour on this day 70 years ago, on a fine sunny morning, just like the ones we had last week, thousands of men, women and children were burned alive.

Untold numbers of other animals, birds, cats, dogs, horses, a whole zoo full of exotic creatures, song birds, parakeets, pigeons, swallows and floating butterflies shared the same fate.

Many other people were left with agonising burns and died shortly after.

Others had the painful lingering symptoms of radiation sickness, a few, very few, are still alive to tell the story of that horrific day when the USA dropped the first atom bomb on Hiroshima.

The cloud it left still hangs over the whole world today.

It’s appropriate to recall that atrocity, for that is what it was, in the week when our parliament has voted by a handsome majority in principle to go ahead with the renewal of four Trident submarines, at a cost equivalent to building dozens of hospitals, schools or universities.

Just in case we are tempted to shrug and point the finger at the Americans, we might remind ourselves that we did much the same when we incinerated Dresden, which had no strategic significance in the war.

A smaller loss of life but still an atrocity.

I remember hearing of it on the news with a horrified shudder.

The arguments flow to and fro in confusing details.

There are intelligent and honourable men and women on both sides.

Senior politicians and, more significantly, senior military commanders who know what they are talking about, can be found on both sides of the debate.

Few of them argue in public from a position of high moral principle.

The only noble but, alas, ineffectual exception is the leader of the Labour Party.

He led the rump of his parliamentary party into the ‘No’ lobby.

If he became PM he would never press the button.

On present showing I don’t think he will.

The moral question is simple, can I command an atrocity in defence of my people?

Can I threaten to do an atrocity to deter my enemy, who may be a ruthless terrorist?

Simple, but a moral minefield.

Stick to ruthless pragmatism, whatever the cost, or stick to my moral principles, whatever the cost.

For Jesus of Nazareth there was only one true answer.

Sticking with the God he called “Abba, my dear Father” meant that accepting the consequences of an enemy’s atrocity is better than being party to committing an atrocity oneself.

You choose. Who will you stick with?

Hugh Dickinson