lowered specially designed clamps from the plane and attached them to matching hooks on the bomb, then they locked each one carefully into place, with two men checking each clamp. The clamps wouldn’t be unlocked until just before release. They handed one set of keys to Lt. Bogart. The other set of keys would be given to Colonel Peck.
As soon as the last clamp was secured, they began the arduous and delicate process of hoisting the bomb up into the belly of the ship. The chains began to clank. The slack was taken up, there was a hesitation and then the vehicle eased itself and sighed as the weight was lifted
away. Simultaneously, the plane groaned . We could hear its back straining. That baby was heavy .
Slowly, slowly the bomb rose up, hanging precariously in the space between us. We watched its studied ascent with a mixture of curiosity and fear. We had all seen the test in Nevada. We were still dazed by the memory of that white-flashing roar of heat and wind. We were terrified of what it would do to a city. White-faced, Jaeckel had screamed to Bogey, “Holy smokes! What is that?” Bogey had answered grimly, “It’s the stuff that screams are made of.”
Even now, it was still difficult to believe that so much destructive power could be contained in this solid black cylinder. Someone had written in bold white chalk on the side, “Heil this !” But as it rose, I saw that someone else had carefully inscribed in bright yellow paint: “ Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai Elohainu Adonai Ehod. ” Beside it was a list of names—the men who had actually designed and built the bomb. I’d heard there had been quite a fight about the prayer and the names; but apparently Dr. Karloff and Dr. Lorre had told General Tracy, “No prayer, no names—no bomb.” I couldn’t imagine “Spence the Fence” saying no to either one of those two grand old gentlemen, and I was glad he hadn’t.
But there were a lot of rumors floating around. We weren’t supposed to repeat them, but we did anyway. We’d heard that Dr. Lugosi was already designing a more powerful bomb. We’d heard that Dr. Karloff was having second thoughts, that he’d written to the president and asked him to demonstrate the bomb on an uninhabited island so the Axis nations could see its power before we actually used it on a city. Rumor had it that Secretary of War Capra had advised against that as “too humanitarian.” We needed to hurt the enemy hard —so hard that the war would come to a screeching halt.
President Cooper never said what he was thinking throughout the entire debate, but when the question was finally asked, he simply issued his characteristic “Yup” and that was the end of that. The prayer on the side of the bomb probably represented a compromise.
It bothered me. I understood—at least I thought I did—the urge behind it; but at the same time, I didn’t think a bomb, and certainly not this bomb, was the right place to paint a prayer of any kind. But then again, I wasn’t Jewish. I wondered how I’d feel about it if I were.
All of us were volunteers. At the beginning, we hadn’t known what we were volunteering for, only that it was dangerous and important.
Then they’d taken us out to Nevada and shown us. We were going to end the war. We were going to obliterate a city. We were going to kill a hundred thousand people in a brilliant bright flash of light.
We had dark goggles to protect our eyes. And radiation meters. Jaeckel, the new kid, would have the best view of all. He was the bellygunner. He’d been issued a 16mm Bolex loaded with special Eastmancolor film. He was supposed to photograph everything we saw. He was excited about the opportunity, even though it meant he had to wear lead-foil underwear.
And then, the bomb was secured and the trucks were rolling away. We still hadn’t seen Colonel Peck. Or Colonel Reagan, our co-pilot, either. And the fog wasn’t clearing up. Worse, it was getting thicker. My shirt collar was sticking
As soon as the last clamp was secured, they began the arduous and delicate process of hoisting the bomb up into the belly of the ship. The chains began to clank. The slack was taken up, there was a hesitation and then the vehicle eased itself and sighed as the weight was lifted
away. Simultaneously, the plane groaned . We could hear its back straining. That baby was heavy .
Slowly, slowly the bomb rose up, hanging precariously in the space between us. We watched its studied ascent with a mixture of curiosity and fear. We had all seen the test in Nevada. We were still dazed by the memory of that white-flashing roar of heat and wind. We were terrified of what it would do to a city. White-faced, Jaeckel had screamed to Bogey, “Holy smokes! What is that?” Bogey had answered grimly, “It’s the stuff that screams are made of.”
Even now, it was still difficult to believe that so much destructive power could be contained in this solid black cylinder. Someone had written in bold white chalk on the side, “Heil this !” But as it rose, I saw that someone else had carefully inscribed in bright yellow paint: “ Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai Elohainu Adonai Ehod. ” Beside it was a list of names—the men who had actually designed and built the bomb. I’d heard there had been quite a fight about the prayer and the names; but apparently Dr. Karloff and Dr. Lorre had told General Tracy, “No prayer, no names—no bomb.” I couldn’t imagine “Spence the Fence” saying no to either one of those two grand old gentlemen, and I was glad he hadn’t.
But there were a lot of rumors floating around. We weren’t supposed to repeat them, but we did anyway. We’d heard that Dr. Lugosi was already designing a more powerful bomb. We’d heard that Dr. Karloff was having second thoughts, that he’d written to the president and asked him to demonstrate the bomb on an uninhabited island so the Axis nations could see its power before we actually used it on a city. Rumor had it that Secretary of War Capra had advised against that as “too humanitarian.” We needed to hurt the enemy hard —so hard that the war would come to a screeching halt.
President Cooper never said what he was thinking throughout the entire debate, but when the question was finally asked, he simply issued his characteristic “Yup” and that was the end of that. The prayer on the side of the bomb probably represented a compromise.
It bothered me. I understood—at least I thought I did—the urge behind it; but at the same time, I didn’t think a bomb, and certainly not this bomb, was the right place to paint a prayer of any kind. But then again, I wasn’t Jewish. I wondered how I’d feel about it if I were.
All of us were volunteers. At the beginning, we hadn’t known what we were volunteering for, only that it was dangerous and important.
Then they’d taken us out to Nevada and shown us. We were going to end the war. We were going to obliterate a city. We were going to kill a hundred thousand people in a brilliant bright flash of light.
We had dark goggles to protect our eyes. And radiation meters. Jaeckel, the new kid, would have the best view of all. He was the bellygunner. He’d been issued a 16mm Bolex loaded with special Eastmancolor film. He was supposed to photograph everything we saw. He was excited about the opportunity, even though it meant he had to wear lead-foil underwear.
And then, the bomb was secured and the trucks were rolling away. We still hadn’t seen Colonel Peck. Or Colonel Reagan, our co-pilot, either. And the fog wasn’t clearing up. Worse, it was getting thicker. My shirt collar was sticking
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