Preface - July 17, 1962
"General, Red Hawk just reported. The package is nearing delivery. ETA, 4 minutes,"
reported the well-dressed Close Air Support officer, Jefferson. Just three months
passed his 19th birthday, CAS Jefferson was the youngest and nearly the brightest
of his class. He was also one of only two black officers to graduate that year.
The General took off his hat showing his thinning silver and blonde hair. He wiped
his brow with a handkerchief even though he wasn't sweating and took a deep breath.
CAS Jefferson watched the two stars glint in the harsh incandescent light as the
aging man leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. "Doctor, are you sure?"
The doctor, a man in his early forties wearing a tan suit with dark brown dress
shoes, answered without looking up from his chair, "Yes, General. We must try. If
not for the sake of the nation, then for the sake of science, we must try. These
children..."
"The package!" corrected the General. The general continued to look down in an attempt
to keep others from seeing that his lower jaw was quivering.
The doctor smiled, nearly expecting the outburst. His smile was a tight-lipped upside-down
smile that made his brown eyes appear to have pity. "Yes, sorry General. The package
will help insure the greatness of our nation as well as provide..."
"You can spare me the lecture, doctor." The general never looked up. His voice was
clear but soft. "How many 'packages' have we delivered for you? Six? Seven? And
how many 'items' in each package? How many items have been damaged, unrecoverably
damaged, Lewis?"
The doctor ran his hand through his straight brown hair. "I don't think it is a
matter of numbers. I believe..."
The general held up his hand to silence the doctor. He took another deep breath
before his jaw hardened and his nostrils flared. The general stood up, placed the
hat back on his head, and pulled his shoulders back. "Jefferson, process the package."
CAS Jefferson had his reservations about the contents of the 'package' and the 'processing'
of the package, but he was in a rare position. Jefferson had found acceptance in
the command room of the aging general and the general seemed morally capable of
recommending a black officer for promotion. Jefferson took control of one of the
radio stations and began communicating, "Red Hawk, stepping to Phase Two, return
to nest. Repeat, stepping to Phase Two, return to nest." Then Jefferson turned to
an Air Traffic Controller, Simms, at another communication station, "Move the duster
to Sunflower. Clear the skies. Ready two search and rescue choppers." Simms hesitated
for a moment, "Now!" Simms began to work the controls and direct the traffic. Jefferson
changed the channel on his radio, "Weather man, Sunbeam Four in eight minutes on
my mark. Mark."
"Sir?" questioned Simms after overhearing the timeline. "The duster won't..."
"You..." Jefferson said in a hard voice, his eyes wide, and eyebrows forming a 'V'
– his lips pressed into a hard line before he finished the sentence. Simms started
calling out the landing pattern and Jefferson took a deep breath to calm himself
before proceeding. Jefferson picked up a black phone that had no dial on it, "Sunbeam
Four in seven minutes twenty-five seconds on my mark. Mark." The general moved towards
the CAS' station. Jefferson picked up another black phone and handed it to the general.
"Alpha Three Seven Alpha Tango Three Seven," said the general.
The general handed the phone back to Jefferson with a nod and Jefferson added, "Sunbeam
Four in seven minutes on my mark. Mark. Aim for Sunflower station."
As Jefferson hung up the phone a siren sounded and a speakerphone blared, "T minus
six minutes and fifty-five seconds."
"This is not a drill," yelled a muffled voice outside.
Jefferson picked up the radio and changed the channel again before speaking. "Recon.
Position for package observation, Sunflower station. Report when processing reaches
Phase Four."
The general walked to a corner of the room and faced the wall, unmoving. Minutes
passed.
"T minus five minutes," blared the speaker phone.
"The package has been delivered," reported the radio.
"T minus three minutes..."
A phone rang and Jefferson answered it, listening for a moment. "Red Hawk has landed,"
Jefferson reported. The general continued to stand facing the corner, hiding his
emotions from the room.
"T minus one minute..."
"Sunflower," reported out of the second communications station as Simms quickly
worked to silence the transmission. The general flinched slightly. The doctor smiled
from one side of his face.
"Dusting is commencing," reported the controller in a quivering voice.
The siren ended. "T minus thirty seconds," blared the speaker as it began a second
by second countdown.
The general moved slowly from the corner. He walked to the short, wide window where
a private nervously moved to him and handed the general a pair of dark sunglasses
and a helmet with a dark facemask. The general put on the glasses and replaced his
hat with the helmet. The others in the room did the same as they walked to the window.
A white light brightened the sky and four seconds later a rumbling sound accompanied
a uniform disturbance of the desert dust. As a mushroom shaped cloud started to
rise into the air, a voice came from the radio. "CAS, Recon 1 reporting. Phase Four
has commenced. Duster is down and part of the package was damaged." There was a
pause and the radio continued, "CAS, Recon 1 reporting. Phase Four has commenced.
Do you copy?"
Jefferson picked up the radio and replied, "Copy, Phase Four has commenced. Withdraw
your spotter."
"18 hours," said the doctor to Jefferson. Jefferson nodded in reply. The doctor
put his hand on the general's shoulder briefly before walking from the room. The
smile on his face was only noticeable to the private in front of him as he turned
the corner and began towards the hospital wing. The private quickly stood at attention
facing the general before following after the doctor.
Chapter One – No Wonder Babies Cry
We drove very slowly and I was sure we could walk faster – I wanted to get out of
that bus and walk. I had blown any chance of making a good first impression with
any of the other orphans and now only one of the administrators would sit near me,
more from obligation than desire. At least the nausea had passed and it was only
embarrassment that was killing me. She handed me a mint and a tissue. I chewed the
mint slowly as I cleaned my lips with the tissue. I stared out the window to avoid
the squeamish looks of the others. The south Nevada desert was desolate.
As the scenery changed from wavy sand covered in low, dry shrubs to rolling hills
of scorched earth I pondered the cause of my sickness. Was I sick because of the
hot bumpy bus ride with a bunch of chaotic kids that I didn't know or was it the
tiny life that was starting to grow in my womb? We bumped along a ravine that couldn't
be mistaken as a road by even the blindest of bus drivers. I clenched the bag in
my hands tighter hoping not to need it again.
Eventually we went past a broken fence and a couple of "Keep Out" signs. When we
finally stopped we were on a hill next to a sunflower farm and an abandoned orchard.
It seemed like midmorning. I got out of the bus, thankful for the stationary ground,
and looked to the other side; we were at the edge of a steep drop off overlooking
a valley that was dry and flat except for a few pits and holes. I could see other
hills the same as the one we were on – smooth, nearly flat arch on top, steep, long
drop to the valley floor, and different crops on top that were in various stages
of growth and death.
I backed away from the valley into the shade of the bus, looking at the two nearest
crops. It was an odd place for an orchard. It was dry and hot and the ground sloped
oddly with the hill. There was no chance at watering it. I guess that was why the
trees had long been dead. But the sunflower field was in full bloom. Someone was
maintaining it even though there were no houses or roads anywhere to be seen.
Many of the other children ran into the sunflower field while others waited by the
bus. The administrators were trying to gather the children together to watch the
event.
"Come back children. Get back here now! It is going to happen in just a couple of
minutes," said one administrator.
I walked up to her and asked, "What is going to happen? What am I going to be watching?"
"We are going to be watching an atomic test. I have seen two before and they are
absolutely wonderful to watch. Herald, our bus driver, has some inside connections.
Not only did he know about this location, but he also knows about the exact time
the test is supposed to go off. Now we must get the other children."
An atomic bomb, I had heard of those tests. I had heard it was really something
to see, hear, and feel. Many of the other kids from the school had watched tests
at one time or another. They always talk about the large crowds of people that gather
for it. They say that from 25 miles away you can feel the explosion and it even
creates a breeze. I had only seen the mushroom clouds from Vegas.
"Get back here right now!" Her shouting wasn't doing any good as a crop duster was
approaching. I had never been so close to a plane - its motor was so loud. It was
amazing how the duster appeared to just float in one place as it made its turn.
It was turning directly toward the edge of the sunflower field.
Then as quick as can be, the duster made its first pass of the sunflower field.
The kids began running out of the field as fast as they could, but many of them
were too far into the field to avoid the spray. Then, faster than I thought possible,
the duster turned and was making its second pass and then another.
"With that much DDT, we won't have to worry about lice this month," one administrator
said to another.
I turned to look around the front of the bus down to the valley to see something
flying along the valley floor straight at us. "Oh, dear God!" said one administrator
under his breath.
There was a white light, a very brilliant light... it was a blinding flash of light.
Everything went dark as I slumped down, scratching myself against the jagged edges
of paint on the bus.
Consciousness came and went several times. The first time, I could hear the sputtering
of a plane engine and the screams of the administrators and other children. I knew
I was against the bus tire as the lug nuts were digging into my back. It took me
a second to figure out what the engine noise was but then I remembered the crop
duster. I tried opening my eyes to see, but I couldn't. The sputtering became louder
and louder until it sounded as if the plane was on top of me. The plane was so close
and so loud that it almost drowned out the screams of pain, almost. I wondered why
my eyes wouldn't open; I felt my eyes with my burned finger and couldn't tell if
they were open or not.
Then I heard, felt the explosion – much louder, much closer than the atomic bomb.
The force of it rocked the bus and I feared it would topple over onto me. Everything
became quiet and still. In that brief moment, I wondered if I had died or if everyone
else had died under the crash of the plane. I felt so alone and wondered if it could
get worse. As if fate could be reading my thoughts, an immense heat scalded the
left side of my already burning body. Everyone began screaming and wailing again
as I passed from consciousness.
Sometimes I awoke to hear screams, sometimes I couldn't hear anything. Each time
I awoke, I wondered why my eyes wouldn't open. I could hear some of the orphans
helping some of the others. I could feel the heat of the burning plane. Was I to
roast to death? The wailing of the administrator next to me has often haunted my
dreams, but when the wailing stopped it seemed even worse. Then I would pass out
for a while and experience the hysteria all over on my next waking.
Once when I awoke, there was some warm, fluffy powder falling against my face. Even
though it was warm, it was soothing to my burns. It blew to and fro tickling my
face and made me think of snow. I thought God had taken mercy on me and sent some
type of desert snow to calm my pain; or an angel dropping angel dust on me. Later
I learned that it was crystallized dust made from DDT that was not only burned but
also irradiated. But while it was falling, it was heaven. Maybe it was an angel.
"Are you hurt?" asked a boy as he grabbed my arm.
"Who are you?"
"Tom. Are you hurt?"
"My arms and fingers are burned. I think I have some cuts on my arm and back."
"Come on, let's get moving."
"I can't see. Is there something on my eyes?"
"You're looking straight at me. Try blinking." I blinked, but nothing happen. "Any
better?"
"No, I still can't see." My eyes were open and I just didn't know it.
"Don't worry about it now, just hold onto my arm and I will lead you down to the
others and away from that plane."
As he pulled me up, I could feel that I wasn't fine. My legs were wobbly, my back
ached, my clothes hung and stuck to me from the blood, and my shoulder was on fire
from the burns. Tom pulled me along and tried reassuring me, but everything hurt
so badly.
As I reached the others and was able to calm down, I realized my life would never
be the same. Only a few hours out of the hospital and I was blind and burned. I
was taken from the reality that I had known. I was born into a world that I did
not like. It is no wonder that babies cry.