Nuclear Drills

A sort of parody on how we learned to survive the BOMB in the 50's

　

Nuclear Drills

　

　

I grew up in the early 50’s. The time of an over bearing fear of nuclear attacks, bomb shelters, and Russian invasions. There was no way to avoid it. The world was at war…or at least frozen in a Cold War and standing by for the real thing.

As a child, I guess it never really bothered me or any of my friends. The idea of potential nuclear attacks was just something you lived with, put up with, even joked about.

When I attended elementary school, good old 37^th Street School in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, we had two types of drills that were re-enacted at least once a week. The first was the standard run-of-the-mill Fire Drill. At the sound of the alarm, usually a ringing bell which all of us hoped was the real thing for once, teachers would stand in the doorways and we, the knowing it was all a hoax, students quietly abandoned our rooms in an orderly fashion. Single file, quick stepping, but God forbid, never running. I could never understand that. We were never allowed to run in the halls. Even if there were a raging inferno lapping hungrily down the hallways, we had to walk at a quick pace, but never run. We would be lead outside of the old, one story red brick school and stand in the playground looking around fervently for the fire trucks and the ambulances which never came because, as we all knew, this was a drill. After about ten minutes, which probably gave the teachers time to round up those students who were taking advantage of the break to begin the journey home hours before the dismissal bell, we were allowed back into the school and returned to our rooms and picked up where we left off in Math or English, or Art. Diving again into our studies, we hid our disappointment that the fire proof brick school still stood and was not a pile of smoldering ashes.

The other type of drill was a Nuclear Attack drill. This was a drill designed to protect us from the awful radioactive, totally destructive missiles that the Russians would launch at the very heart of our country. This Nuclear Attack drill went something like this. The bell, that same bell for the fire alarms, and lunch breaks, and dismissal would sound four times. This was to differentiate it from the fake fire drill warning. We all knew this was a fake Nuclear Bomb drill (or at least we hoped so...after all, in those times, you really didn't know). But, being good sports and knowing it would get us out of math, we would play along, even to the point of putting on our most solemn expressions and taking it as seriously as was possible without actually breaking out in laughter. Our teachers, on the other hand, were wiser, and would be forever skulking about and making sure we all followed the rules for a Nuclear Attack. These rules were pretty simple. We all went out

into the hallway, (single file, of course, was there any other way?) and knelt down on our knees, putting our hands over our heads (to protect us from falling debris or bombs, we were never sure which one offered the most threat, but we were prepared. Then we all were made to lean against the wall of the hallway, kneeling, arms over our heads, and, all the while snickering, cause we knew this, too was fake. After about 20 minutes had passed, we heard the “ALL CLEAR” bell and straightened up to return to our classrooms and attack our studies once again.

These were the two most important drills in our entire school, and indeed, in the entire town of Beaver Falls, Pa. We knew with undoubting certainty that we would be protected from fires or from any Nuclear attacks as long as we remembered the drills. Now, I'’ not so sure about the fire drills, I always thought they were realistic and could actually save lives. However, the Nuclear Attack drills, as I became older and wiser, seemed like a joke. After all, how could crouching down against a wall actually protect anyone from nuclear holocaust? It was laughable…a joke…a scam.

　

Anyway, the 50’s and the 60’s passed and there were never any real nuclear attacks. And people forgot about the bomb shelters, the canned supplies, and even the life-saving Nuclear Attack drills. In fact, in the early ‘90s, the Soviet Union, the ultra enemy actually ceased to exist and Russia became, for all intents and purposes, a capitalistic society. So that by the year 2007, things were peaceful enough and the fear of nuclear holocaust was pretty much a dream and a distant ridiculed joke.

Until June 18^th, 2011. I remember it well. I was eating dinner in a fairly exclusive McDonalds, the kind in which ties were mandatory, clothing was not, but ties had to be worn. I had just ordered the double soy cheese veggie burger with roasted garlic potatoes and a glass of triple filtered water when this banshee-like sound began to wail and echo in the streets. It took a while for us to realize what the sound was. It was a nuclear attack siren, warning us that from somewhere, nuclear bombs were going to rain down upon or heads very shortly. And there were no shelters left to run to. People panicked. They cried, the ran, they stampeded over other people trying to run out of the restaurant and back to their families, or loved ones, or whomever. There was screaming and pandemonium everywhere. Most all of these poor souls were under the age of 50 and did not have the extensive nuclear attack training that I had received in elementary school oh those many years ago. So, while the others fled and tried in vain to find safety, I walked over to the cement wall inside of McDonalds, knelt down on my knees, placed my hands over my head and waited. Sure enough…bombs began to fall, fires raged, buildings and people disintegrated into ashes or into flash-fired nothingness. I stood, or rather knelt, my ground, knowing how important this was or we wouldn’t have been taught these valuable drills so early in life.

After one horrendous, hideous hour, the bombs stopped falling. The air was thick with smoke, and fire, and ashes. Streets were littered with dead remains of buildings and other

　

　

Unrecognizable shapes. Many people had been vaporized. Nothing, literally nothing was left. The nuclear attack had done its worst.

But, thanks to the Nuclear Attack drills I learned in school, the 37^th Street Elementary school, I was intact. No burns, no cuts, no fallout poison. Thank God for those drills. They saved my life. I survived. Relieved and grateful for my lessons on survival, I walked, not ran, to where my house used to stand. Had I run, I would have been burned to death by the hellish fires that devoured the air all around me. But walking, as I was taught, prevented the flames from touching me and I arrived safely to my now disintegrated house. Now all I have to do is shift through the radiated ashes of my house, or where it used to stand, so I can find my all purpose, never failing, Boy Scout Manuel that shows in exact detail, how to boil water after a nuclear attack and to make weapons and grow radioactive foods. Damn I wish I remembered how to tie a slipknot, I’m sure that was very important.