The Mission to Japan — A Firsthand Account of the 2011 Tsunami Relief

This is the story of one of many humanitarian missions I’ve undertaken—a mission of risk, faith, and relentless compassion. Some call it a once-in-a-lifetime moment. It’s one of many etched into my soul, born from a love for the broken and downtrodden.

The Call to Action

When the tsunami struck the northeast coast of Japan on March 11, 2011, it unleashed a magnitude nine earthquake—the most powerful in the country’s recorded history. A 120-foot wave followed, destroying towns and nuclear reactors alike. The death toll soared beyond 20,000. I was home, comfortable, and safe as the reports came in. But then I had the dream.

In this vivid vision, I saw the destruction in detail. I heard the weeping of Japanese women, the cries of grief muffled by surgical masks. One woman in white approached me, bowing, repeating “arigato” through her tears. Her sorrow pierced me. I woke up knowing what I had to do.

Preparing for the Journey

I didn’t want to go. Radiation dangers, expense, language barriers, and no formal support would all be on me. But my heart knew. I packed 200 pounds of gear, drew from my years in the military and search and rescue, and flew to Tokyo. I would be alone, forging my path through locked-down zones and radiation fields.

Finding the Right Team

On arrival, I tried every channel to reach the hardest-hit areas. The Japanese Government had asked official recovery teams to leave. Then I found Los Topos, "the Moles, a Mexican search and rescue team with deep roots in global disasters, including 9/11. They welcomed me as "Big Man." We became brothers overnight.

Entering the Disaster Zone

Together, we traveled north through Fukushima, radiation meters maxed out. In Sendai, we began operations in the devastated town of Onagawa. We were told thousands were missing, mostly the elderly and children. The ocean had swept away lives and futures.

The Work We spent daily searching for remains in thick, cold, fish-laden mud. The images still haunt me: broken toys, photos, dismembered limbs. We recovered 15-20 bodies daily. At night, we slept on the gym floor near another leaking reactor.

The locals were dignified and brave. Children approached me with curiosity and laughter, reminding me why I was there. One little girl, Saito, became my impromptu translator and friend.

Moments That Changed Me

There was a father we searched for—his family left him when he refused to evacuate. We found his backpack. His daughter cried exactly as I had seen in my dream. I held her as she wept. Two months later, his body was found.

During one confined search, a house collapsed on my chest. My teammates saved my life. These were angels, not men.

Compassion Without Borders

One night, a Japanese teen offered me his rice treat. I refused out of pride. His generosity brought me to tears. Later, an elderly woman bowed and thanked me over and over. It was her—the woman from my dream.

The Living I met two young American men volunteering who were lost in life. We talked about faith and purpose. I told them to go home and find peace first. Months later, one joined the Air Force’s Pararescue, and the other reconciled with his family.

Conclusion

The True Mission I went to recover the dead, but I found my purpose in healing the living. It wasn’t about me. It was about a hug, a laugh, a shared burden. You don’t need to travel across the world to make a difference. Look around. Someone near you needs love, hope, and strength.

Move your feet. Do some good. Switch on.

David Burnell