Christmas IslandA Story by ConfidentialA young soldier is part of a group that unknowingly becomes the subjects of observation by the government on the phys./psych. effects of experiencing nuclear weapons attacks. Based on a true story.Christmas
Island It
was nearly 4 o'clock in the morning when I was awakened by the jubilant cheers
of my shipmates, and after three solid weeks at sea surrounded by all men, a
stir like this at such an hour could only mean one thing: land. I bounded up
to the deck barely dressed to see what exactly everyone was on about, but before I got a word out I caught sight of the land in question and found
myself speechless. I considered for a moment that I might still actually be
asleep, or that my eyes were playing tricks on me; even in the tiniest
amount of light during the last hour or so before dawn, one could see the entire
length of Christmas Island (so named because of its discovery on Christmas Eve some
years before) and the tall palm trees which were lined up all along it, swaying
gently in the morning breeze. I smiled. I wouldn't be sorry to set foot on land
again, and in fact, couldn't do so soon enough. In
the following hours, soldiers and officers alike wasted no time getting all of
their belongings in order and waiting on deck as the shoreline grew ever
closer. Sergeant Davis emerged from the berths, in full uniform (of course)
despite the blazing tropical sun, hands folded behind his back. It was strange
to see such a usually bawdy man in such a serious mood, and on such a wonderful
day. The excited men who had assembled on deck all began to fall silent, eager
to hear whatever raunchy tale or dirty joke he had in store for them this time.
They soon realized that he was in fact being quite serious. "As you all
know," he stuttered, "The only reason for your going to Christmas
Island," he paused. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. He seemed to be
struggling somehow, as to one speaking a foreign language and trying, but not
quite knowing how to express themselves. I was beginning to think he had simply
changed his mind about telling us whatever he had to say when he continued,
"The only reason for your going to Christmas Island is to witness bomb
tests." That much we know, I thought, Where are you going with this,sarge? "Don't ask me what kind," he continued,
"Just...know that they will be rather big. That is all." With that,
he promptly returned below deck as the men were left to discuss just what the
hell he was on about, and why he bothered making that speech at all, seeing as
he told everyone the one thing they already knew, and not much else. Nobody thought much
more of it after the boat docked. Still,
I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in the Sergeant's head while he made his speech. What does he know that we don't? What does he wish he could tell us that he can't? All that I, or anybody else seemed to know for sure was that
the bomb tests we had all been brought to Christmas Island for were somehow a
big deal. To tell the truth though, none of us really cared. Christmas Island
was the absolute vision of paradise! The water surrounding the coral atoll atop
which the island sat was beautifully light blue and perfectly clear. The tall
palm trees all looked the same, each with a perfectly proportioned trunk and
broad, deep green leaves which rustled at even the slightest provocation from
the wind (actually, this made for quite a peaceful environment in which to go
to sleep). Operation
Grapple was in full swing, and yet none of the soldiers really had to do
anything for the next few weeks, save wait around enjoying their free vacation
and waiting for the 'bomb tests'. Discipline was pretty lax on the island.
Oftentimes one could walk up and down the beach and see soldiers on 'guard
duty' stretched out under a palm tree with a half-empty (or half-full, if you
like) six pack next to him. The only thing any of us ever had to worry about
was getting sunburned. And no one really worried about that. This was what the
work day was like on Christmas Island. In the evening, all the soldiers took up
the opportunity to take full advantage of the island's (admittedly limited)
entertainment facilities. They were, for the most part, rather basic. The
extent of entertainment available was an area (roped off during the day) that
was lined with rows upon rows of 'seats' (wooden planks) set up in front of a
large projector screen. The
only duty that every soldier on Christmas Island consistently upheld was
showing up at the makeshift cinema (every night it was open) at exactly 2100
hours. It didn't matter much what was showing; if it was even slightly decent,
it was usually the highlight of the day. I remember one of the earlier films
shown called 'Somebody Up There Likes Me' (boxing picture) that starred some
nobody actor named Paul Newman, which was pretty good. I can also remember
seeing a Marilyn Monroe flick during one of the hotter, more humid times,
during the summer of '58. 10,000 sweaty and uncomfortable men, all in one place
at one time, proved too much for the soldiers to handle when Marilyn appeared
on screen wearing very little in the way of clothes. This of course inspired
the usual rounds of wolf-whistles and such from everyone (myself included),
however, one fellow was apparently too excited to see her. The explosive
cocktail of intense heat, beer and Marilyn's projected cleavage broke the poor man's
sanity completely. Jumping over every plank until he reached the front row, he
took a final, stunning leap and dove with outstretched arms straight through
the unfortunate actress' face, tearing the screen apart.
The pictures got cancelled for a week as punishment.
'The leaper', as he came to be called, never lived it down, and everybody on
the island (officers included) ribbed him about it for days. ..I think we were all secretly jealous. The
highly secret "Operation Grapple" continued like this for some time,
though the so-called 'bomb dates' drew ever nearer, the hype surrounding them
increasing dramatically as they did, as did the fear and intrigue they inspired
in all of us on the island. The day finally came on the 18th of April, 1958. I
stuck my head out of my little squat tent along with the several hundred other
servicemen participating and we all sensed a certain...tension in the air,
which had been growing slowly over the previous weeks, and was now more evident
than ever. And we still didn't know what the hell was going on.
As we
waited around on the beach for the test to begin, I gazed up at the ugly
cormorant sea-birds. As I stood on the burning sand watching them, I never
guessed for a moment I would spend that evening shoveling hundreds of their
corpses, eyes burned straight out of their twisted little heads, feathers fused
together. Zero- hour drew nearer; all military personnel were rounded up and
instructed to line up on the main beach. Sergeant Davis came out from an inland
path, looking more worried than ever. "Sit down and relax for a
while," he told us. We did. One soldier asked, "Sir, what are we
doing out here?" The Sergeant walked over to the one who posed the
question and stood next to him. Pointing out to sea, he said, "Thirty
miles out there, there is a bomb. It's gonna blow up, and we're going to watch
it." The young man looked confused. "Thirty mi...then..what are we
doing here?" he asked. Sergeant Davis
plodded off through the sand. "Shut up. Be quiet." he said. No one
spoke again for a while after that. A
minute or so later a loud voice came through a set of speakers mounted on a
large tower nearby where we had all assembled. "This could be a live
run," it said. "I guess that means we're starting?" I thought.
The voice began to count down:
"Five...Four...Three...Two...One...Zero..." After a moment's pause it happened. "COVER YOUR EYES!" the voice roared
through the loudspeaker. I turned around so my back faced where the bomb went
off, balling my fists up and covering my eyes as instructed. At the moment of
detonation was a flash; in that instant, despite being turned around, eyes
closed and covered, I was able to see straight through my hands. I could see
the veins. I could see the blood, I could see all of the skin tissue, I could
see the bones. But worst of all, I could actually see the flash. It was like
staring directly into a second (brighter) sun. Next
came the wave of heat. A heat surprisingly slow, but which was searing hot and
seemed to eat its way through my very bones. It was the first time in my life I
honestly didn't have the strength to hold in my screams of pain. I was barely
aware of it, but the voice on the loudspeaker came back on just then,
"Okay," it said, seeming to tremble slightly, "Look at the bomb
now." I turned around and bore
witness to a living picture of hell. A tremendous, dirty-looking mushroom cloud
(bigger than any building I had ever seen) was forming on the horizon. At the
cloud's base: a horrible, enormous ball of fire, slowly curling up, deadly
looking waves emanating from its base in a sort of ripple-effect. I
stood there with my brothers on the beach, and looked around as each one of us
realized there was nowhere to run. The waves of fire, visible even from thirty
miles away, came steadily closer. The first gale of wind hit us; tents were
blown away; the cookhouse collapsed and was blown to pieces; all of us were
knocked off our feet, one or two of us flew ten feet back before landing. As we
all stood up to brace ourselves for the oncoming waves of destruction, I
managed to splutter out to one man, "Did you see all those trees snap in
half?" Before he had time to answer, or even comprehend what I was saying,
someone else said "A bloke over there has shat himself," No
one laughed at this. We were all frightened beyond imagining; in front of me, a
younger looking soldier (probably just a Private) dropped to his knees and
buried his face in his hands, crying. I noticed blood running down the sides of
his mouth as somebody helped him to his feet. Even the bravest among the men on
that beach began to feel a moderate level of panic set in. I looked at Sergeant
Davis, who was staring at the monstrosity on the horizon and shaking his head
in disbelief. The flurry of questions burning inside me suddenly died down. I assumed
that the higher ranking officers would have had at least some idea of what to
expect, but judging from his reaction, I think that Davis was just as shocked
and scared as the rest of us. We braced ourselves for the last waves as they
washed over us, and tried not to literally get blown away. This
was the first of five nuclear tests my friends and I witnessed that year.
Following the first one, people stopped following orders, started causing trouble
on purpose- anything to get off of that damn island. Others just walked around in a trance-like state,
day in and day out. Several would go for days, even weeks at a time without
eating, sleeping, or talking to anyone, be it a commanding officer or a close
friend. The bombs changed everything. Nearly a year after boarding our ship,
the TT Dunera, bound for Christmas
Island, I arrived back home again, at last! It was December 22nd, 1958. Two
nights later I went to midnight Mass. I made it through about half of the
service before I began to see flashes of light and hear loud noises coming from
nowhere. I tried to say something to the person next to me but was already
falling down on the floor as I turned to face them, shivering uncontrollably. I
passed out and they had to carry me from the church. I spent the next weeks in
the hospital, fighting to keep myself busy enough so that I wouldn't notice the
almost constant, unbelievably painful spasms which rattled my whole body. One
night, I woke up to a most peculiar
feeling...like I was damp. I got up thinking I had wet the bed and discovered I
was lying drenched in a pool of my own blood. I was later told I that I had
suffered some internal hemorrhaging. Soon thereafter I was discharged from the
military, owing to the fact that I had "Failed to meet the health
requirements". The first time I visited my doctor as a civilian after
being discharged from the army, he was in the middle of examining me when I
noticed him shaking his head... ...I remember how...sorry...he looked. "What's wrong, doc?" I asked. A tear
rolled down the side of his face. "You're all such young men," he
said grimly, "And you'll always regret the day that you ever set foot on
Christmas Island..." And you know what? He was right. I do. The bombs changed everything.. © 2011 ConfidentialAuthor's Note
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9 Reviews Added on July 12, 2011 Last Updated on July 21, 2011 Tags: War, nuclear, bomb, tests, military, army, USA, US, government, secrets, secret, top secret, political, historical nonfiction, world war 2, world war II, WWII, sad, dark, death Author
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