With the release of “Oppenheimer,” I wanted to revisit this story as we contemplate the ramifications of living in the nuclear age.
My uncle served in the Army in the 1950’s. In all the years I knew him, he never spoke of his experiences until one summer when he came for his first, and sadly last, visit to El Paso. He was a first-person witness to nuclear testing, and he shared what he was able to divulge to my brother and I.
He died not many years later, and I was grateful to have had the brief time to get to know him better. Often with our older family members, we forgot that they won’t be with us forever and we lose the chance to hear their stories.
A few things I hope you take from this story: one, our soldiers should never be used as test subjects, and we owe them better healthcare and treatment than they too often receive. Paradoxically, while my uncle was being exposed at close range to radiation, my future father-in-law was in the Army, teaching about the effects of radiation at Chemical, Biologial and Radiological Defense school in Japan. The Army knew what would happen to our soldiers.
And two, the people we elect matter: they have the power to push the button and end life as we know it. That terrifying responsibility does not belong in the hands of impulsive and irresponsible leaders, especially when it comes to electing a president.
Decades ago, I heard the terrifying details of what a nuclear war would look like up close. My dear uncle James witnessed first-hand the destruction that nuclear weaponry can inflict on the world. He was a young soldier stationed in a secret facility in Nevada after World War II during the above-ground nuclear bomb tests. On a warm, sunny day on a family trip not long before he died, Uncle James shared his story.
He recalled traveling the country as a young soldier after the war. Hitchhiking his way from east to west; families traveling the lonely roads were glad to give a ride to a soldier in uniform. When he arrived out west, his experiences at the base in Nevada were sworn to secrecy. He hesitated to talk about it even many decades later. But on this beautiful day staring out at the vastness of the desert, he recalled to my brother and I the horrors and dangers of his days in Nevada.
Uncle James was a radio communications specialist; a genius of a man who later spent a lifetime working in the electronics industry. In his position in the Army, he was one of thousands of soldiers tasked to directly observe the nuclear tests outside. He cringed in recalling how the Army had him stand on the desert floor just a few miles from ground zero. His only protective gear was a pair of government-issued dark sunglasses. The Army assured the soldiers they were in absolutely no danger from radiation and did not need any physical protection.
He said the bomb was constructed on a large scaffolding. And he noted, shaking his head in disbelief, how occasionally the bomb malfunctioned and didn’t actually go off. The soldiers would literally draw straws to see who would receive the unlucky honor of climbing the enormous structure high above the desert to determine the source of the malfunction.
He witnessed more than one test, and each was the same: standing above ground for the countdown, he recalled the blast almost knocking the soldiers to the ground. He said the heat was so intense, it singed the hair off his arms. And the mushroom cloud, the angel of death, unfolded right before their eyes. A marvel one part otherworldly beautiful, another part a terrifying destructive power.
Afterwards, the soldiers were allowed to go directly to ground zero to see the devastating effects. He recalled that the desert sand fused into an oddly beautiful green glass. It is known today as trinitite: sand that was actually pulled up into the heart of the explosion, where high temperatures liquified it. The newly formed glass rained down, cooled and turned solid. Uncle James said the green glass covered the soil in the area where the scaffolding once stood. He said the structure was obliterated—nothing was left but the glass and the charred desert.
That young soldier was never told about the untold amount of radiation that rained down upon him. He was never told of the health problems and generational births defects that resulted for so many other soldiers of that day. We know now that it wasn’t just a test the Army let them witness. It was a purposeful experiment to see how soldiers would fare on a battlefield in the event of nuclear war. A 1951 memo from the Secretary of Defense’s medical group stated: “Fear of radiation is almost universal among the uninitiated and unless it is overcome in the military forces it could present a most serious problem if atomic weapons are used.” Our troops were used as physical and psychological guinea pigs. A 1952 document referenced by the Department of Energy stated: “ inclination to panic in the face of AW [atomic warfare] and RW [radiological warfare] may prove high. It seems advisable, therefore, to increase research efforts in the scientific study of panic and its results, and to seek means for prophylaxis. . . . The panel supports the point of view that troop participation in tests of atomic weapons is valuable. As many men as possible ought to be exposed to this experience under safe conditions.”
These horrific experiments were repeated by the Russians even more often. Between 1949 and 1963, the Soviets tested over 110 above-ground nuclear bombs in modern day Kazakhstan alone, exposing over 1.5 million people, from soldiers to citizens, to radiation.
We tend to consider these stories as relics of a bygone era, of a Cold War that came to a somewhat peaceful resolution. Yet we must recall the lessons from our past; we can never return to the idea of a world conflict. And most importantly, we must do everything possible to elect stable, responsible leaders who recognize there is no such thing as a winnable war.
https://ehss.energy.gov/ohre/roadmap/achre/chap10_2.html
https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-019-01034-8
Click to access On_Point-Camp_Desert_Rock.pdf
https://www.sciencephoto.com/media/895714/view/buster-jangle-dog-atomic-bomb-test-1951
Cardboard and Rubber Bands 