Atomic Testing

by Alan Tucker

  We’re going down to the oval in a minute. We had to ride down to the store first to get some butter and bacon for Dave’s parents’ breakfast. He’s dressed in white clothes. They’re not proper cricket clothes and they’re not matching whites, but he looks really smart. He even Brylcreamed and combed his hair this morning so he looks the part of a cricketer.

  I’ve got my bag packed with the scorebook, two pencils, a sharpener and a rubber. I even packed a ruler so I can keep everything really neat.

  8.00 pm

  Boy, oh boy, what a big day! I played my first-ever game. We lost, but I made one not out and took one wicket for six runs.

  Dave and I got to the oval early. Mr Noblett was already there. He had the tarpaulin up and a card table under it. He told me to get my scorebook all set up while Dave and he hammered in flags around the boundary line.

  The boys arrived. Most rode their bikes, but rich boys like Jonathon were driven. Quite a few of the parents stayed to watch. Everyone was excited except Peter, one of the fourth year boys. He looked sick. Before the game started he threw up and Mr Noblett said he wasn’t allowed to play. His team would have to play one short. Dave and Robert asked if I could replace him. Mr Noblett wasn’t sure. I hadn’t practised much and anyway, who would score? One of the fathers said he would, so Mr Noblett left it up to me. He told me I could field at slip so I didn’t have to run much.

  ‘Can you catch?’

  I told him I didn’t know. He laughed and said, ‘There’s only one way to find out. Are you playing?’ I said, ‘Yes.’

  My team batted first and I made 1 not out. If I’d been a faster runner I could have made two runs. I didn’t exactly hit the ball. I snicked it along the ground. My team made 99 runs all out. Dave made 5 and Robert 12. The older boys scored most of the runs.

  I fielded in slips when we bowled and didn’t catch anyone, but I didn’t drop any catches either. Dave got two batsmen out and so did another bowler, but we couldn’t get Jonathon out. When his team lost their eighth wicket he was 62 out of 92. That’s when the match got really exciting. My captain asked me to bowl. Seven others had had a go. I said I wasn’t very good. He said I couldn’t be any worse than the rest.

  Jonathon hit a four—CRACK—and a two—FLICK—off my first two balls. They weren’t such bad balls, it’s just that he’s a really good batsman. On the third bowl he went to hit another four to win the game, but he missed it and was stumped for 68. All of my teammates ran to congratulate me. I couldn’t believe it. I’d not only got a wicket but I’d dismissed the best batsman. Their team still needed two runs to win and we needed one wicket. I was so nervous. So was their last batter. I bowled my next three balls and he missed them all.

  They won the game in the next over when one of the fifth years hit two runs. I didn’t care that we lost because I’d played my first-ever game of cricket.

  When I came off the oval Jonathon came over and told me I was a bit lucky to get him out. He said he had been going for ‘a rather ambitious shot’, but his father told him he should compliment me on a skilful delivery. Jonathon’s father said I showed good control under pressure and had promise as a spin bowler. He offered to give me some coaching. He played Firsts for his university in England.

  I couldn’t believe it. I had thought Jonathon’s father suspected me of spying.

  When I walked over to collect my scorebook, pencils and stuff I saw Mum standing in the shade. She had turned up unannounced, just like she said she might.

  I didn’t know how long she’d been there. If she’d just arrived she may not have seen me playing. If she had, I was dead meat.

  I said hello and she said she was disappointed in me. I felt terrible. I knew I’d done the wrong thing. But do you know what happened next? She said she was disappointed in me because I didn’t get the last wicket and win the match for my team. I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t mad at me.

  Dave and I wheeled our bikes and walked home with her. I explained that I only played because someone was ill. I didn’t deliberately break her rule about not playing. I was just helping the team out. She forgave me and said she and Dad would talk about whether I could play regularly.

  Mum and Dad had a talk at lunchtime and agreed I can play. Dad’s never had any worries. It was Mum. I wonder why she’s changed her mind.

  A whole lot of us practised cricket again this afternoon. Rusty helped me when it was my turn to retrieve balls hit into the outfield. He happily fetched every long hit.

  Mum and I are home alone tonight. We had tea at the Mess with Dad, but then he stayed there with his mates. He promised he’d be home by ten o’clock. Mum’s happy with that. She’s cleaning up the kitchen. She said Dad and I did a good job of keeping it in order, but it needs a woman’s touch to make it sparkle.

  She explained again why she had to leave and go back to nursing. It was either that or go mad.

  ‘When I had you to look after, Anthony, I was kept incredibly busy. But now that you’re healthy I don’t have enough to do. Some women might be happy just to be a housewife, but not me.’

  She said she would put her name down at the Woomera hospital to do relief work once she’d updated her qualifications. The village is growing rapidly and so is the hospital. She talked to me about the latest treatments for helping polio sufferers and said scientists are closer to discovering the vaccine to stop people getting it. I wonder if they’ll ever make it. They’ve done so for other diseases. I guess they’ll do it for this. It’s a shame they can’t use something like Superman’s X-ray vision to vaporise the bugs inside people that cause polio. ZAP ZAP ZAP!

  After our talk she gave me a present from Adelaide: the latest Superman comic. I was so excited I kissed her when I thanked her. I wish we could buy things like that up here. We might be able to once the new store’s built at Butement Square. Mum can’t wait for that. Before she moved to Adelaide she used to buy lots of things by catalogue, but if they didn’t fit, bad luck.

  The new store will have everything: food, clothes, fresh meat and vegetables, a chemist shop, and even furniture. Mum said she might feel more comfortable living here once she can easily buy all the things we need. And she’s heard that profits from the store will be used to set up a town library and a newsagency. Hopefully they’ll sell Superman comics.

  After Dad got home Mum told him that the Adelaide newspapers are still full of talk about the bomb tests. They say they’ll happen any day now. Dad said some sections of the base are on daily alert, but no-one knows anything. It’s all hush hush. He feels sorry for the journalists camping at Salisbury. They’ve been stuck there for a week.

  He’s like me. He doesn’t know why they haven’t exploded it. The weather here is perfect. It couldn’t be much different out at Emu.

  As I listened to Mum and Dad talk I couldn’t believe they were the same two people. A few weeks ago they were at each other’s throats over the bomb. Now they were discussing it calmly.

  I asked Mum if she could explain something: radiation.

  Dad wished her good luck and said he was off to bed. ‘I’ll leave you two boffins to explain the universe.’

  Mum did her best to help me understand radiation. ‘When an atomic bomb explodes, invisible particles radiate out from the blast.’

  ‘I know that, Mum. All the bits are invisible. The atom is the biggest bit and even that can’t be seen.’

  She seemed impressed I knew that much. ‘The particles that radiate out from the centre of an atomic blast are harmful to humans and animals. They pass through their bodies and cause damage. If someone is close to the blast and is exposed to a lot of radiation, they can be killed immediately. If they’re further away they’ll be badly burned on the outside but the most deadly damage is done inside. Their organs are poisoned by the radiation and the sick tissue gradually spreads and kills them. If they are only exposed to a little bit of radiation, the damage will be slight, but it still might be enough to kill the person years later.’

 
‘Like kryptonite? That kills Superman slowly. First he loses his super powers, then he loses his ordinary powers.’

  ‘I guess it is like that.’

  ‘So, what’s the problem? If everyone takes shelter at the moment the bombs explodes, the radiation will pass them by and then they can safely come out of hiding.’

  She explained it’s not that simple. The radiation doesn’t go away with the blast. It lasts for years, usually centuries. Somehow it sticks to rocks and trees and grass and even the ground. Then when people walk by it attacks their bodies without them knowing. Sort of like germs.

  She told me one good thing about radiation. Doctors can use it to kill dangerous growths in our bodies. They focus the radiation into a beam, just like Superman focuses his X-ray vision, and fire it into a sick person’s body to burn away damaged internal tissue. Uncontrolled radiation, like from an atomic bomb, can cause cancer, but controlled radiation can kill cancerous growths. Isn’t that strange?

  I realised Jonathon’s parents were wrong. Comics aren’t rubbish. Scientists do many of the make-believe things Superman does. Maybe one day human beings will even be able to fly like he does.

  Sunday, 11 October

  I read the new Superman comic last night. It was great. It was another story about how he helped the Americans beat the North Koreans. He flew above the mountains to spy on the enemy troops and tanks below, then flew down and attacked them. He’s sort of a human spy rocket, except he’s not human. Maybe the British scientists got their idea for a spy rocket from reading about Superman.

  Once I’d finished reading I put the final touches to Mum’s birthday drawing. I’ll give it to her as soon as she gets up and I’ve wished her a happy birthday.

  Mum has to go back on tonight’s train, so today we’re going on the bus to Lake Koolymilka for a picnic. She’s not sure when she’ll come home again after this weekend.

  Before we left Townsville Mum used to show me the map of South Australia so I knew where Woomera was. On the map it was surrounded by lakes. I think that’s why Mum was happy to shift here—she thought it was wet and would have forests. It doesn’t. Woomera’s in the middle of a desert and the lakes are salt lakes. Sometimes they fill up with water and people can sail yachts on them, but we haven’t seen that. They’ve been dry since we arrived, which is why we haven’t visited Lake Koolymilka before.

  Mum and Dad slept in, which is rare. Dad cooked her a special bush breakfast as a birthday treat and gave her a new towel to take back to Adelaide. She loved it, but not as much as my drawing. She said both gifts would brighten up her section of the dormitory no end.

  Later

  The picnic was fun. Dozens of other families went. We played a game of cricket: fathers versus sons. Dad played and I got him out after he’d scored twelve runs. He tried to belt me for a six, but hit the ball straight up in the air. Dave caught him. Dad was a better batsman than I thought he would be. He hasn’t batted for years, since before I got polio. The fathers won, but not by much. I batted last and made one not out again. At least I hit the ball in the middle of the bat this time. That’s because I faced a slow bowler. I think he bowled even slower to me because of my legs.

  Dad organised someone to give Mum and him a lift to Pimba tonight. The train leaves really late. I’ll be asleep before he gets back. It’s not very far to Pimba, but the road’s not very good and they have to drive quite slowly in the dark.

  It’s good that Mum and Dad did a few things together this weekend. Mum went to the Mess and on a picnic. She hasn’t done anything like that for months. She said she’ll pin my drawing up in the dormitory as soon as she arrives.

  I’d hate to sleep in a dormitory. I hated sleeping in the ward when I was sick. You could hear other people breathing, sniffing and coughing all night. Sometimes the little kids cried. Dad slept in lots of dormitories during the war. I guess you get used to it. I’ve got used to Rusty whining when he sleeps. He twitches when he dreams too. He’s funny.

  Tuesday, 13 October

  I’ve started copying another drawing for Mum. The real picture in the comic shows Superman carrying Lois Lane high above the city. I’m going to change it to show them flying above Woomera. Jonathon loaned me a really good photo of the village taken from one of the Air Force planes. It’s not a Top Secret photo. He asked his father and he said it’s all right for me to borrow it. Jonathon’s father seems to like me now. Maybe it’s because he thinks I’m quite good at bowling. He’s invited me to meet him at the practice nets after tea so he can help me with my spinners.

  9.00 pm

  He’s a good coach. He watched me bowl to Dave for a while then asked me where I learned to spin the ball. I told him I taught myself by reading cricket books and looking at the pictures of leg-break and off-break grips. I worked out for myself how to use my fingers to make the ball spin. I didn’t tell him that I used to practise the different grips on pieces of fruit. I thought he’d think I’m weird.

  He gave me some tips on where to aim on the pitch to make the spin most difficult for batsmen to hit. Most times I got the ball to land close to where he pointed. He told me I had good control and asked if I wanted to learn to bowl a secret weapon. Of course I did!

  He explained I didn’t have to change my grip much, but I had to learn to turn my wrist differently. He showed me how far then told me to watch what happened. He bowled two ordinary leg spinners. They spun about a foot, a lot further than mine.

  ‘Now watch.’ He appeared to bowl another leg break but the ball spun in the opposite direction after it bounced. I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘It’s called a Bosie.’

  He showed me again how to twist my wrist then told me to have a go. I didn’t do too badly. My Bosies landed quite near the stumps, but none of them spun the wrong way like his did. They went straight on.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he told me. ‘A small change in the amount of spin could be enough to deceive a batsman and get him out. You’ll improve the more you practise.’

  After he left I practised on Dave. He tried not to belt my bowling too far, because we didn’t have Rusty to field. To start with it was tricky making my wrist twist so much, but by the time we went home I could bowl the Bosie quite well.

  When I got home I practised some more. I pretended the tap was the wicket. Rusty retrieved every bowl and brought it back to me. By the time it was dark I had the hang of it and even made some balls spin slightly the wrong way. Either that or they hit bumps which made them spin that way.

  Bosie. What a funny name. I haven’t heard commentators on the wireless talk about a Bosie. I’ll have to look it up in one of my cricket books.

  Later

  I found it. ‘A Bosie is a leg spinner that surprises a batsman by spinning the other way. It is what Australian cricketers call a wrong ‘un.’ I think Richie Benaud bowls wrong ‘uns occasionally.

  Thursday, 15 October

  It’s happened! The bomb’s been exploded. BOOOOOOOM. It was all the talk at school today and at cricket practice. They exploded it at seven o’clock this morning. Dave reckons he heard it, but Robert said that’s impossible. You couldn’t hear it in Woomera. The sound didn’t travel this way. It’s over 200 miles in a straight line and the winds blow away from here. The scientists wouldn’t have dropped it if the wind blew this way. They don’t want to risk Woomera getting covered in fallout.

  I don’t know what Mum will think. Well, I guess I do. She’ll be cross. She’s supposed to come home again this weekend. I wonder if she will? She might be too scared in case we’ve been contaminated.

  7.30 pm

  Dad brought an Adelaide newspaper home. They’ve got an amazing photo on the front page of the bomb exploding. It looks just like my friends said it would: a huge mushroom-shaped cloud. The article said people heard the explosion 200 miles away, so maybe Dave did hear it.

  Inside the paper they had a photo taken at the moment of the explosion. It’s a giant fireball. I bet no-one could look directly
at it if they were close.

  I read what some important people think about the bomb. The church men agree with Mum. They call it a ‘menace’ and ‘horrible’, but the scientists aren’t scared. They say we need to test the bomb to protect ourselves.

  The test was called Totem 1. In the main report the journalist didn’t call the bomb site Emu. He called it X-200. He was fifteen miles away when the bomb exploded. The sound took 57 seconds to reach him after the flash. Wow! That’s quick. Fifteen miles in 57 seconds is approximately fifteen miles in one minute. That’s 900 miles an hour! WHOOOOOOOSH. I wonder if Superman can fly that fast?

  There were so many articles in just one newspaper. No wonder Mum knows so much about atomic bombs. Another journalist reported that when the shockwave hit him there was also a hot wind and an earth tremor. And the sound was not one bang but a double thunderclap. He was wearing welder’s goggles and shielded his face from the blast, but it still hurt his eyes. He described the flash as ‘more brilliant than the sun’. I wish I’d been there.

  He wasn’t allowed onto the blast zone afterwards, but was told by the scientists that all sorts of things were left within the blast zone to see how they handle the heat and the explosion. The scientists predicted that everything near the centre of the explosion would have been instantly melted and fused like glass.

  In one of my old comics, Superman filmed an atomic bomb exploding, then flew down into the crater. Ground Zero, it’s called. Scientists examined Ground Zero at Emu, but they wore special protective clothes, boots and helmets. It must have been boiling hot wearing so much thick clothing in the desert.

  When one reporter was flown over the bomb site an hour after the explosion he saw trees snapped off for miles in every direction around the bomb crater and noticed the sand wasn’t red any more. It was a metal grey colour. He guessed it had been fried by the heat of the blast.