God will forgive me. It's his business. -Heinrich Heine
People don’t really want to hear about July 16; at least not the real day. They want that stylized version writers, historians and politicians think up to commemorate the day (six years to the day Albert Einstein wrote to President Roosevelt advocating a weapons project) when Oppenheimer quoted Bhagavad Gita and everyone seemed to understand what had happened. Even Howard has his own version. In it, everyone is bright eyed and too excited to speak or joke really. Then the gadget worked and no one spoke for forty seconds, and then one of the soldiers cried “oh shit” when the shock wave hit them. Bainbridge looked over to Oppenheimer and uttered what Howard always thought should have been the real quote to come out of New Mexico that day, “We are all sons of bitches.”
In truth that didn’t happen either. Not really. It was four in the morning when the weather guys said the test could be done and those who weren’t pissed because it was four in the morning were pissed because there was no water at the test site and it was already reaching the upper 90’s in the New Mexican desert. The cement bunker was stifling with too many brains that tended to be so focused on the project to remember showers were their friends. Then, of course there were the soldiers and the smell of cheap tobacco because no one had had breakfast and some were still drunk from the night before. Cigarettes calmed the nerves.
Someone was taking bets on if it would work or not. They didn’t call it a bomb, or a weapon. It was the gadget or ‘it’ and truthfully, no one thought it would work. Not really. But they hoped.
They waited twenty minutes; mostly to past around the sunglasses and make sure everything was set up. Howard slipped out the back to use the bathroom and bum a cigarette from one of the privates he’d been playing poker with the night before. He liked the kid better than the other brains he worked with. They were the same age and when Farrell came out to find Stark two seconds later both of them looked like chastised kids as Howard was forced to put out his new cigarette and go back inside.
The sky turned green at 5:29 in the morning on 16th of July in New Mexico. Then purple, then gold.
And what happened? What really happened? A few seconds of silence because no one dared to speak and miss the colors they turned the sky- then cheers like someone had just won the World Series. They were hugging on each other and cursing and screaming in each other’s ears like New Year’s. Farrell picked up Howard like he was a kid trying to see over the parade. Someone pointed out they were losing data, and Howard remembered running to the machines and cursing the equipment’s unwed mothers because nothing was being recorded. Oppenheimer still hadn’t moved. Bainbridge either.
Everyone else was working; in the sweat and exhilaration; trying to figure out how to put it in the weapon and carry it because the gurney wouldn’t work and even if it did, they doubted the Japs would appreciate them building one.
Years later to the date and time, when Howard is older and holding a one month old Tony in his arms as he walks around landmark and told him the true story, he’d let that slip. Those brains in that bunker knew the weapon would be used before even the President did. Weapons were never made to sit on shelves.
Howard is going to stop there- stoic and silent. He’ll look around that desert and think about three decades before. Then, he’ll look at Tony. He’ll smile but you’ll never know why.
But that will be then, and before arc reactors and dirty bombs. And Howard won’t remember what equations he was trying to record before the information were lost. He’ll only recall that Isidor was shouting overhead about his money and he wished the other man would shut up.
They were going to have to prove they could do it again.
In truth that didn’t happen either. Not really. It was four in the morning when the weather guys said the test could be done and those who weren’t pissed because it was four in the morning were pissed because there was no water at the test site and it was already reaching the upper 90’s in the New Mexican desert. The cement bunker was stifling with too many brains that tended to be so focused on the project to remember showers were their friends. Then, of course there were the soldiers and the smell of cheap tobacco because no one had had breakfast and some were still drunk from the night before. Cigarettes calmed the nerves.
Someone was taking bets on if it would work or not. They didn’t call it a bomb, or a weapon. It was the gadget or ‘it’ and truthfully, no one thought it would work. Not really. But they hoped.
They waited twenty minutes; mostly to past around the sunglasses and make sure everything was set up. Howard slipped out the back to use the bathroom and bum a cigarette from one of the privates he’d been playing poker with the night before. He liked the kid better than the other brains he worked with. They were the same age and when Farrell came out to find Stark two seconds later both of them looked like chastised kids as Howard was forced to put out his new cigarette and go back inside.
The sky turned green at 5:29 in the morning on 16th of July in New Mexico. Then purple, then gold.
And what happened? What really happened? A few seconds of silence because no one dared to speak and miss the colors they turned the sky- then cheers like someone had just won the World Series. They were hugging on each other and cursing and screaming in each other’s ears like New Year’s. Farrell picked up Howard like he was a kid trying to see over the parade. Someone pointed out they were losing data, and Howard remembered running to the machines and cursing the equipment’s unwed mothers because nothing was being recorded. Oppenheimer still hadn’t moved. Bainbridge either.
Everyone else was working; in the sweat and exhilaration; trying to figure out how to put it in the weapon and carry it because the gurney wouldn’t work and even if it did, they doubted the Japs would appreciate them building one.
Years later to the date and time, when Howard is older and holding a one month old Tony in his arms as he walks around landmark and told him the true story, he’d let that slip. Those brains in that bunker knew the weapon would be used before even the President did. Weapons were never made to sit on shelves.
Howard is going to stop there- stoic and silent. He’ll look around that desert and think about three decades before. Then, he’ll look at Tony. He’ll smile but you’ll never know why.
But that will be then, and before arc reactors and dirty bombs. And Howard won’t remember what equations he was trying to record before the information were lost. He’ll only recall that Isidor was shouting overhead about his money and he wished the other man would shut up.
They were going to have to prove they could do it again.