Atomic Testing

by Alan Tucker

  Monday, 1 June

  Dave had a great idea. We’ll use Rusty to hunt rabbits. He’s the perfect size. We’ll have to train him to go down the burrows. Dave says Rusty will probably kill one or two of them down there, but the rest will come running up and we’ll catch them in nets.

  I asked him where we’d get the nets and he said he had some old Army mosquito netting that should be strong enough.

  When I asked him how we’d get Rusty out of the burrow he said, ‘If he’s smart, he won’t get lost.’ That worries me a bit.

  Tuesday, 2 June

  Two of the men who were climbing Mount Everest got to the top. The main climber was from New Zealand. There are thousands of mountains over there to practise climbing on. No-one from Woomera will ever climb a high mountain because it’s flat for miles around here. But if the scientists here do a good job we might put a rocket higher than any mountain top.

  Robert’s father is a rocket scientist. He told him that one day they’ll fire a rocket up to the moon and there’ll be men on it. I mean in the rocket, not on the moon. Although, who knows? There might be moon men living up there.

  It’s funny, isn’t it? Robert tells me something crazy like a rocket landing men on the moon and I believe him. Dave tells me he found a skeleton in the desert and I doubt him.

  Thursday, 4 June

  We took Rusty for a walk after school this arvo to show him the rabbit burrows and to train him to hunt bunnies. We tied his collar to a piece of rope and pushed him down. He didn’t want to go at first but then he started sniffing the ground and wagging his stumpy tail and followed the scent down the burrow a little way. When he reached the end of the rope he came back. He couldn’t go very far, but even so he scared one rabbit out. It came up from a nearby burrow, stamped its foot, THUMP THUMP, and ran off.

  Maybe Dave’s idea will work. I hope so. If we can use Rusty to trap rabbits in the daylight then I can join in.

  Friday, 5 June

  Robert was really excited today. His father heard that the Americans have set off a massive bomb in the Nevada Desert. Dave and I weren’t sure where that was. We thought it might be near Woomera because there are some US Army people stationed here. He laughed.

  ‘Nevada’s in America, you ninnies, and anyway if they dropped an atomic bomb near here you’d soon know about it. The blast would burn your eyeballs out and melt your skin and cook your gizzards.’

  I said nothing could do that except maybe a massive bushfire, but Robert laughed.

  ‘Don’t you know anything? They’ve already dropped bombs that did that to people and now they’ve invented a bomb twice as powerful. If you were near it when it exploded you’d be gone in a flash. It’d vaporise you, WHOOSH.’

  When I asked Mum and Dad if there were bombs that big they said there were. They’re called atomic bombs, although the bigger bombs that Robert told us about are hydrogen bombs. Atomic bombs were dropped on two Japanese cities during the war. Dad started to describe what they did to people, but Mum didn’t want to hear. She said it wasn’t an appropriate subject to talk about while we were eating.

  Later when I asked Dad more about the atomic bombs he told me the Americans dropped them to force the Japanese to surrender. ‘If the Americans had had to invade Japan a lot more American soldiers would have been killed. By using atomic bombs no more American lives were lost.’

  ‘But what about Japanese lives?’

  ‘Tens of thousands died in the blasts, but even more would have if we’d invaded. The Japanese wouldn’t have surrendered, son. That was against their warrior code.’

  Saturday, 6 June

  Dave, Robert and I went rabbiting today. We put the nets over as many burrows as possible to block most escape routes. The boys found some big dongers to bash the rabbits with when they became tangled up in the nets. We were all very excited, especially Rusty. Dogs sense people’s excitement and fear.

  When everything was ready I let Rusty sniff the entrance to the biggest burrow and told him, ‘Sic them rabbits, boy.’ Down he went.

  The rope was longer than last time because we’d tied some extra lengths on it. Nothing happened for a while, then KAPOW! Three nets had rabbits in them all at the same time. The boys went BASH BASH BASH with their clubs and yelled like soldiers in battle. It was crazy for a few minutes, then there was silence.

  No more rabbits—dead or alive. But no dog either. The rope had gone slack. I dragged it up. A knot had come undone.

  The boys didn’t realise that Rusty was missing and were still talking loudly while they dumped the dead rabbits into a hessian bag. I didn’t know what to do. I was worried he’d never come up. He could get lost and die down there.

  When I started calling ‘Rusty!’ the others realised what the problem was and they started calling down burrows too.

  We called for an hour. It was dark by then and time to go home.

  I don’t think they realised how terrible I felt. Rusty was my best friend and I was about to abandon him. He didn’t abandon me when I was sick.

  Dave said he’d come back with me to search for him first thing in the morning. I knew Dad would help us too. I hoped that if Rusty came out during the night he’d find his way home. We weren’t far out of town and he’d been here before. Dogs have good noses for following a scent, especially if it takes them home. Some dogs have walked hundreds of miles to get back to their owners.

  On the walk home the boys sang silly hunting songs that they made up, but I was quiet. How would I tell Mum and Dad?

  That was easier than expected.

  Before I even got to the back door I heard Rusty barking. He’d been home for ages. He must’ve come up a burrow a long way from us and decided to go straight home.

  When I told Mum and Dad how he’d got lost Mum started carrying on. She wasn’t worried about Rusty. She was worried about me.

  ‘If I’d known you were roaming around the desert I’d have made you stay home today. People die out there, Anthony, even in winter.’

  I tried to explain we were in sight of the houses, but she wouldn’t listen.

  ‘This place is no good. It’s too wild and it’s making you wild.’

  I laughed, which really made her angry. Dad tried to calm her down. He told her that when he was my age he did far more dangerous things. He killed rabbits with a .22 rifle while riding bareback through the scrub. I believe him. My Dad’s a real bushie under his Army uniform.

  Mum said she didn’t care what Dad did at my age. He didn’t have polio.

  That made me cross. When will she accept that I don’t have polio any more?

  Sunday, 7 June

  When I woke up this morning there was a man asleep in a swag on our back porch. I woke Mum and Dad. Mum was really worried. She thought it must be a swaggie or a drunk, but Dad laughed and said it would be his mate Kenny.

  ‘Only old bushies have swags, Beryl. Drunks sleep where they fall in whatever they’re wearing.’

  Dad went out and brought him in for breakfast. Dad’s known Kenny since the war. He works around here now too. He actually discovered Woomera. That’s not quite right because there was nothing to discover. When he first drove here there was only bush and desert. But he chose the site and surveyed the streets. He didn’t tell me that. Dad did.

  ‘Kenny’s not into blowing his own bags,’ Dad told me.

  He was a funny man. He even made Mum laugh. He came in from a place called Emu last night. Mum couldn’t believe he found his way through the desert in the dark. He said he’d been living out bush so long he’d developed owl eyes. ‘I can prove it. Unbutton my shirt, lass, and you’ll see I’ve grown feathers too!’

  When I told Dave about Kenny he knew all about him.

  ‘Everyone knows Kenny. He’s legendary. He lives like the Aborigines. He can drive right across the desert and survive, and right across Australia and not get lost. Kenny once told me some of his tricks to survive in the desert. That’s why you’re safe with me when we go exploring,
Anthony.’

  Once again I wasn’t sure if I believed Dave.

  Later

  I asked Dad if Dave knew Kenny and he said, ‘Quite likely. Everyone knows Kenny.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t talk to kids, would he, only grown-ups?’

  ‘Kenny’d talk to our pet galah, if we had one. You’ll get to see that when you know him a bit better.’

  Even after hearing this I still wasn’t sure Kenny would tell Dave all his tricks for staying alive in the desert. It’s hard to know when Dave’s telling the truth or stretching it.

  I asked Dad where Kenny was now and he said he was probably talking to the Base Commander. I thought he must be in trouble. That’s the only time the Commander would talk to Dad. But Dad said Kenny’s never in trouble. ‘He’s got the Big Brass eating out of his hand.’

  Kenny had tea with us tonight, so I asked him for some tricks if you’re camping out in the desert. He smiled and told me to sleep with my boots in my swag, especially during the winter months. When I asked why he said, ‘If you leave ‘em out in the cold months, the centipedes’ll move in to get warm, and centipedes and toes don’t make good neighbours.’

  After tea I stayed at the table and listened to the men talk. Kenny asked if Dad remembered the cross-country desert trek they did last year in the brand-new Land Rovers. Dad laughed and said his teeth were still chattering from the bumpy track.

  ‘Well, your next trip will be more comfortable, Frank, because I’ve just dozered a road right through. Roads take all the pleasure out of driving. Next thing there’ll be tourists motoring out there and people will want flash dunnies built.’

  When Dad asked him what happened to the Land Rovers he said he’d taken the wheels off them, filled them with sand and planted geraniums in all but one.

  ‘What did you do with that one?’ I asked.

  ‘Turned it into a yabby pond so I’ve got fresh meat next time I’m out there!’

  I thought he was joking, but I wasn’t sure, so I asked another serious question. ‘Why did you take the Land Rovers out there?’

  Dad cut in then and told me not to ask so many questions. There are some things a soldier can’t talk about. He said it was time for bed because I had school in the morning.

  Security’s so much tighter here than it was in Townsville. Mum says it makes her suspicious about what’s going on. When we arrived she was given a lecture on not talking about Woomera to friends and relatives. That’s hardly likely. They all live in Queensland.

  Dad says it’s the British Government that insists on the tighter security. Some of its employees in England sold military secrets to the Russians, then defected to live in Moscow. Now they trust no-one, not even ordinary people like Mum.

  ‘It’s not the Aussie way to be so hush hush, but the Poms insist. They think any one of us could be a double-agent spying for Joe Stalin and his cronies. They suspect a Red under every bed.’

  I asked Dad what a Red is. He explained it’s anyone with communist sympathies. I looked even more confused, so Dad told Mum to explain.

  Even she couldn’t easily tell me what a communist is. It’s someone who lives in a country where the government owns everything and everyone works for the government. Russia is a communist country. It’s to do with politics. I couldn’t see how that was much different from Woomera, where all the scientists and soldiers are paid by the Australian and British governments, and no-one owns anything except a few personal belongings.

  Mum said it will make sense when I’m older.

  Monday, 8 June

  At school today the boys were talking about something I could understand: the first test match against England. It starts this week. It’ll be on the wireless in the middle of the night. I’ve listened to the cricket from England before, but didn’t know whether I’d be able to pick up the commentary here in Woomera. Wireless reception is not always good.

  It always seems weird listening to the cricket at night. When I was really little I used to believe that they played in the dark. Dad had to explain that even though it’s night-time in Australia, it’s daylight in England.

  Dave’s not interested in listening to cricket, but he likes playing it. Robert told me they’re in the same team. Dave’s not very good at batting or bowling, but he’s a really good fieldsman. There are only two junior teams in Woomera because the village is not very big. They asked if I play. After I told them Dad and I used to play in the backyard before I got polio they asked me to play for their team next season.

  ‘You could field in the slips so you wouldn’t have to run. And you could bat with a runner.’

  I told them I want to play but Mum won’t let me. They said my legs were getting a bit better every day since I moved here and that Mum shouldn’t worry so much.

  ‘You don’t even get left behind much any more. What’s she worried about?’

  I didn’t tell them that for years I’ve secretly practised bowling. I can spin the ball quite a lot. I don’t think my batting’s very good though. When I throw a ball in the air and try to hit it, I usually miss.

  9.00 pm

  I asked Dad where Kenny was tonight and he said, ‘Back on duty. He doesn’t hang around civilisation for long if he can help it.’ When I asked why he doesn’t have a single-man’s quarters Dad explained he’s hardly ever here. He works out bush.

  ‘He doesn’t have to live by all the red tape the rest of us do, Anthony. The Big Brass turn a blind eye to what he’s up to and what he’s wearing. When he’s out bush, which he is most of the time, he’s allowed to travel alone and he doesn’t have to signal his position every two minutes. He’s sort of a law unto himself. Bush law.’

  I told him Dave said Kenny can live off the land like the Aborigines. He said that’s true, which proves Dave wasn’t lying about that. I asked Dad about the trip he did with Kenny. He said he couldn’t tell me much because it was Top Secret.

  ‘Not that I know a lot anyway. Eight of us were ordered to drive showroom-condition Land Rovers out into the donga. I’ve got no idea where we ended up.’

  ‘Did Kenny lead you?’

  ‘No, son. We followed his old tyre tracks. Every now and then we’d find a stake in the ground with a bit of a Bully-Beef tin polished up and nailed on top. You couldn’t miss them. They’d glint in the sunlight. That confirmed we were on the right track.’

  Dad couldn’t tell me much more than that. As soon as they got the Land Rovers to Kenny a plane landed on a big clay pan and flew them out. Kenny was left in the desert with eight brand-new vehicles.

  ‘What’s going on out there is a mystery, a Top Secret mystery,’ Dad told me. ‘Only Kenny and the Big Brass know what’s up. Small fry like me know nothing and I’m happy with that.’

  When Mum checked my maths homework I asked her what she thought was going on out in the desert. She said that whatever it was, it probably wasn’t nice.

  ‘The Army’s plans worry me at the moment, Anthony. Whatever they’re up to I’m sure it will be big, loud and capable of killing masses of people.’

  I told her there was nothing wrong with that. That’s why the Army was invented.

  Thursday, 11 June

  I didn’t hear any of the cricket last night. Mum wouldn’t let me sit up late because of school. She said she might let me stay up late tomorrow night and listen. This morning’s news reported that Australia made 3 for 157. Lindsay Hassett, the captain, is 67 not out. Dad reckons if Don Bradman was still playing the score would be double that. He would have taken me to see Bradman bat in Brisbane when I was a kid if I hadn’t got polio. Bradman made 185 that day. Dad’s always been disappointed I wasn’t there with him to see that innings. He told me all about it though.

  I remember lying in hospital listening to Dad and imagining Bradman score run after run. I was really sick at the time and Dad’s story made me feel better. It was a long time ago, but I can still remember a lot of what he described.

  Listening to the cricket on the wireless while I was
in hospital helped me to feel less bored. I not only listened to the test matches, but kept a scorebook while I did so. Back then I did it to help pass the time, but now I do it because I enjoy keeping the score. It’s a habit or hobby, I guess. The funny thing is I’ve never been to a test cricket match. I’ve only seen pictures in books and newspapers.

  Sunday, 14 June

  I sat up really late last night listening to the cricket. It was about 1 o’clock when the players went to tea. Dad made me go to bed then. He stayed up to listen to the last session but fell asleep in the lounge chair. Mum said we’re both mad.

  England were 6 for 92 at the start of play. Ray Lindwall got most of their batsmen out yesterday. He’s a really fast bowler. I’d be scared to face him, unless I was Superman of course. Wouldn’t that be great? I wouldn’t need batting gloves or pads because the cricket ball couldn’t hurt me. Not that I’d ever get hit. I’d never miss the ball. I’d smash it for six every shot. KAPOW!

  England was all out by the time I went to bed and Arthur Morris was getting most of the runs for Australia.

  It’s funny at school at the moment. In Townsville everyone barracked for Australia but here a lot of the kids come from England. You can guess who they barrack for. There was almost a fight the other day about which team is better.

  This afternoon the boys and I mucked around at the oval throwing a tennis ball. Before I got polio I could almost throw a ball over our house. My arm muscles didn’t shrink like my leg muscles, but because I was in bed for a long time and then had to hold onto crutches to learn to walk again, I couldn’t throw anything. My arms are even stronger now because I had to use them all the time to move myself around. That’s why I can still throw a long way.