Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud by Ray Hoy Atomic Veteran

Author:Ray Hoy, Atomic Veteran
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Fiction Works
Published: 2012-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Kindness from a Stranger

Sunday, August 4, 1957

2130 hours (9:30 p.m.)

Camp Desert Rock

Nevada Test Site

Dear Dad,

I just returned from Las Vegas with a couple of my buddies. We finally got the weekend off, so we decided to take advantage of it and go take a shot at “Glitter Gulch” (as they call it around here).

We were fortunate to catch a ride into Las Vegas. Once we were there, we decided to poke around downtown and not go out on the “Strip,” since we didn’t have a car and couldn’t afford a cab. So we just wandered in and out of the Fremont Street casinos.

I was immediately carded at the Golden Nugget, and an hour later at Binion’s Horseshoe Club. Even though I turned twenty-one on May 3rd, I’m still stuck with this baby face. So finally I quit digging my I.D. out of my billfold and just carried it in my pocket. When a security guard approached I’d whip it out and hold it up. One of my buddies said I looked like a guy in a horror movie, holding up a cross to keep the vampires away.

Well, it was a short stay in Las Vegas. None of us had more than twenty dollars to spend, and that was gone very quickly, as you can imagine. So, we started trying to hitch-hike our way back to base. We walked maybe two miles along Route 95 with our thumbs out, but no takers. I couldn’t blame drivers for not stopping, of course. Picking up three total strangers isn’t too wise.

And then it started to rain. August is the rainiest month in Las Vegas (I found out later). It didn’t pour, it just drizzled steadily, and we were miserable.

Then an angel appeared. I swear to God, Dad, I’m still “wowed” by what happened. This young woman was heading into town, and she waved at us as she went by. We watched her stoplights come on and she turned around and came back and pulled off the road just ahead of us.

She leaned across the seat and rolled down her passenger door window as I jogged up to her car. “Are you having car trouble?” I asked through the open window.

She smiled and said, “No, I just gathered that you fellows were trying to get back to Camp Desert Rock, and I thought I’d give you a lift.”

The amazement must have shown on my face because she laughed and said, “Come on, get in out of the rain, fellas.”

“Are you sure?” I said. She nodded agreeably, and the three of us got into the car and out of that miserable weather.

As she drove along Route 95 toward Camp Desert Rock, she told us that she was a Mormon, and that she heading for a church function when she spotted us. She said we looked so miserable standing there, that she decided to give us a lift, instead.

Needless to say, we all thanked her profusely when she dropped us off at the guard shack.

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