With all the nonsense out of North Korea lately, I've been thinking a lot about missiles. At first it did not click so to speak but all of a sudden I said to myself hey, I've had some experience with missiles!
I grew up around New York City in the fifties. After the Cold War began every household received a Civil Defense booklet, a how-to-try-to-survive-a-nuclear blast booklet. I used to read and reread the pamphlet which was kept in the kitchen junk drawer. It had a mushroom cloud on the cover. I'd look at the diagram which showed NYC as ground zero. Then I'd picture me in Belleville, NJ about 10 miles away in the next circle and wonder if the advice could possibly be of any help at all. When the bomb dropped you were supposed to shield your eyes and get under something heavy. It didn't take long, even for a seven year old, to come to the you've-got-to-be-kidding conclusion. An atomic bomb has dropped, I am 10 miles away and I will be just fine, thank-you, if I get under the dining room table? In school, we went into the hallway during bomb drills, crouched down and put our hands over our heads. We were in the hall to avoid the glass from the classroom windows. The book did not mention that instant incineration probably would be the thing that cooked our goose anyway - literally.
When I was 10 we moved about 35 miles west of NYC. So now I was safe and sound in the second ring according to the Civil Defense booklet. I was also supposed to feel better because we lived 2 miles away from the Nike missile base in Hanover. The base is closed now but back then NYC was defended by missiles which would, what, try to shoot down the nuclear warhead? I guess that was the tactic. Somehow this scenario, too, was less than comforting.
I also remember sitting in history class in high school in October 1962 on the most tense day of the Cuban Missile Crisis. We actually wondered if we would be obliterated by the Russians that afternoon. To say the least it was a very strange feeling, and one I have not had since.
And when I took a job with the U.S. Army after college my missile experience continued. Part of my duties was to visit missile bases in northern Germany and play Bingo with the soldiers. I was very curious about these remote, deep in the forest sites and often asked to see the goods. Of course, information about the missiles and viewing them was off limits. We are not talking about the big ICBMs, rather Pershing missiles which in 1968 were aimed and ready to strike Prague during a crisis there with the Russians and their allies. Those days, too, were filled with more than a bit of tension.
Rewatch "Dr. Strangelove" to get an accurate (and hysterical) vibe of those times. You'll then understand the rest of the title: "Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb." Today, however, I think we're still worrying but loving the bomb (and missiles) much, much less.
I grew up around New York City in the fifties. After the Cold War began every household received a Civil Defense booklet, a how-to-try-to-survive-a-nuclear blast booklet. I used to read and reread the pamphlet which was kept in the kitchen junk drawer. It had a mushroom cloud on the cover. I'd look at the diagram which showed NYC as ground zero. Then I'd picture me in Belleville, NJ about 10 miles away in the next circle and wonder if the advice could possibly be of any help at all. When the bomb dropped you were supposed to shield your eyes and get under something heavy. It didn't take long, even for a seven year old, to come to the you've-got-to-be-kidding conclusion. An atomic bomb has dropped, I am 10 miles away and I will be just fine, thank-you, if I get under the dining room table? In school, we went into the hallway during bomb drills, crouched down and put our hands over our heads. We were in the hall to avoid the glass from the classroom windows. The book did not mention that instant incineration probably would be the thing that cooked our goose anyway - literally.
When I was 10 we moved about 35 miles west of NYC. So now I was safe and sound in the second ring according to the Civil Defense booklet. I was also supposed to feel better because we lived 2 miles away from the Nike missile base in Hanover. The base is closed now but back then NYC was defended by missiles which would, what, try to shoot down the nuclear warhead? I guess that was the tactic. Somehow this scenario, too, was less than comforting.
I also remember sitting in history class in high school in October 1962 on the most tense day of the Cuban Missile Crisis. We actually wondered if we would be obliterated by the Russians that afternoon. To say the least it was a very strange feeling, and one I have not had since.
And when I took a job with the U.S. Army after college my missile experience continued. Part of my duties was to visit missile bases in northern Germany and play Bingo with the soldiers. I was very curious about these remote, deep in the forest sites and often asked to see the goods. Of course, information about the missiles and viewing them was off limits. We are not talking about the big ICBMs, rather Pershing missiles which in 1968 were aimed and ready to strike Prague during a crisis there with the Russians and their allies. Those days, too, were filled with more than a bit of tension.
Rewatch "Dr. Strangelove" to get an accurate (and hysterical) vibe of those times. You'll then understand the rest of the title: "Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb." Today, however, I think we're still worrying but loving the bomb (and missiles) much, much less.
