The Atomic Times: My H-Bomb Year at the Pacific Proving Ground by Michael Harris

Author:Michael Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Nuclear Warfare, Weapons, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Military, Veterans, History
Publisher: Michael Harris
Published: 2010-12-21T05:00:00+00:00

THE GREATEST WEATHER-FORECASTING SYSTEM IN HISTORY

MANY DAYS AFTER Cherokee, we were all assembled for an important announcement from Major Maxwell. We knew before he started that it would have nothing to do with the pilot error. We weren’t talking about it. No chance MM would.

He squinted his eyes, cleared his throat and gave us one of his I’m-disappointed-in-you expressions. “How often do I have to say this? Around here, it’s safety first, second and third. We absitively posolutely never take chances.”

As always, it took a while to figure out just where he was heading.

“I’ve gotten reports about low morale. I’ve heard some of you have been worried because we had a few postponements. It’s hard to believe you think anything could go wrong at Joint Task Force Seven. I’m here to tell you to stop thinking. Yes, we had delays, and now I’m going to tell you why. The reason is simple.”

And very old news. Before Cherokee, we were all concerned but we had already found out what the problem was. Unfavorable Weather Conditions. We got the information from our reliable Stateside sources, the letters from home. Reporters on the Mount McKinley wrote many articles on this very subject, which were printed in our local newspapers, and even though the mail took forever to reach us, the clippings had been in our back pockets for a while.

“Use your think tank,” MM said loud and clear, a direct order. “And think weather. We have a terrific team working hard to make your life better. At Weather Central, fourteen forecasters and twenty-five observers are collecting and correlating data twenty-five hours a day. Just for you. Ten reconnaissance planes fly at least two missions a day within twelve hundred miles of Eniwetok and give us data about winds, clouds, temperature, relative humidity and rain from sea level up to thirty thousand feet.”

As usual, the major’s eyes were focused on those familiar sheets of paper. He turned a page and continued.

“We’re careful with a capital K. Planes reconnoiter storms and typhoons to warn us about impending high winds, and they gather information right up to the moment of the blast. We insist on ideal conditions, and we don’t move forward unless the weather is perfect. If necessary, we’ll cancel a test one second before zero hour.”

At this moment, MM was actually reassuring me, which I had never thought possible. I remembered Castle Bravo, a test that could have been postponed but wasn’t. Maybe they did learn a lesson, whoever “they” were.

MM: “We take every precaution and make sure nothing can go wrong.” The very thought of a mistake made the major deliver one of his isn’t-that-ridiculous laughs. The chuckle, the throat-clearing, the nodding, and he was ready to continue. “We never take chances. Not with the weather. Not with anything else. Around here there is no danger.” He paused and looked around. And then added: “Repeat: no danger.”

Richter rolled his eyes.

“Now I’m really going to impress you,” the major told us. “I’m going to let you know how many weather stations we have supplying data to us and where they are all located.

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