This letter is being written for more than one reason. I don't know if you'll recall, but a couple of years ago I prosecuted a paternity suit against then White House aide Arthur Whitewater, who figures often in your work. Because of governmental pressure, the case was eventually dismissed. Another typical example of administrative self-preservation at the expense of the common man. In the following year I brought L. Daniel Dresser, former presidential press secretary to President Jennings during the close of the war, to court on similar grounds. Again, the case was thrown out before I ever had a fair chance to prove my charges. But I've learned to accept the facts that high-up officials can do just about anything these days. That's why I really liked your book, because it shows these people in everyday life, fallible and slightly stupid.
I saw you on a late-night talk show with Don McCarey, and I thought you were terrific, even if you only had four minutes. Just think, a few years ago you were one of the most influential men in the country. Now you're lucky to get four minutes of time at one o'clock in the morning. Still, that's more than I'll ever get.
Did you have any trouble publishing your book? I mean, did the government censors hassle you or threaten you at all? I bet they did. You have a lot of integrity, and I admire that. That's why I'm sure you'll behave with more honor than either Whitewater or Dresser. I can't say anything for certain as yet, but I go to the doctor the day after tomorrow, and I may have some important news for you then.
Keep up the good work. I know that in the years since the war you've had a constant guilt thing about being responsible for the dropping of the A-bombs on Japan. It shows up all the time in your book. I just want to say that we all have things to be guilty about, and we just have to learn to stifle those feelings before they interfere with regular life. So your situation is a little more extreme than most everyone else's. In a way, we're all responsible for those tragedies. Did you ever think of it like that? It probably doesn't make any difference to you, but I wish I could make you happier. I'd like to meet you in person some day.
Like I said, you'll get the results of the doctor's examination, and we can proceed from there. Surely the royalties on your book would be more than enough to cover the minor expenses that I might cost you. It's no big thing. It happens to people all the time. I don't hold any personal grudge. After all, you never really did anything; we've never been in the same state together. Still, you must admit that, as a famous celebrity, you're a target. This is just part of the circumstances you agreed to accept along with your notoriety. So there isn't any personal animosity between us. I want you to understand that.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to your new book. I saw an ad for it in the Plain Dealer. The Lighter Side of Hiroshima. Lots of humorous anecdotes collected in the years since 1980. That takes a little nerve, too, you know. I'm impressed. The wild, wacky world of nuclear holocaust. Perhaps it's good therapy for you, though. Who am I to say?
Hoping to hear from you soon (I enclosed a self-addressed, stamped envelope for your convenience),
Heather Oroszco
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Colonel Holbrook Leaf, pilot of the B-29 Enola Gay: I think that I was the only man in the entire 509th Composite Group that knew of the existence of the atomic bomb. I was the commanding officer of the Group, of course, and we had been assembled specially for the purpose of delivering the bomb on certain selected targets in Japan. We went through what seemed to the regular crews unusual training procedures and special treatment. I imagine that it must have been a hard time for the three other members of my crew.
Major Charles W. Bartz, co-pilot of the Enola Gay: It sure was. The other men on the base on Tinian laughed at us and called us names. They couldn't understand what we were contributing to the war effort. We weren't going on regular bombing runs. We were contributing, but even we, except for Colonel Leaf, were unaware of just how. But everybody suspected that something special was in preparation. We never guessed that it was on the order of the A-bomb, though.
Major Andrew Douglas Swayne, bombardier: The B-29 was a beautiful car. The Cadillac Fleetwood. After flying B—17s during the early part of the war, it was like a vacation to be transferred to the 509th. But we had to take a lot of ribbing from the guys. It's funny. When you meet those fellows today, they never remember all that happened before the dropping of the bomb. They just remember the awe and the pride.
Bartz: I've had to describe that moment to my kid at least a hundred times.
Leaf: Me, too. Your kid never gets tired of hearing about it.
Swayne: As bombardier, and with just the single bomb, I took over the job of navigator. They put us ashore in some Godforsaken rural area of Japan. I didn't even know where we were. It was Colonel Leaf and Major Bartz in the front seat, and me and Captain Ealywine in the large, comfortable back seat. We drove for nearly an hour before we saw a sign. It put us on the road to the main road to Hiroshima. We were really afraid that we'd run out of gas before we got there. The Enola Gay wasn't going to make the return trip with us, but it still had to get us to the target.
Captain Solomon Ealywine, gunner: The back seat wasn't as comfortable as in most B-29s, because the A-bomb itself was nearly ten feet long, and a hole had been cut to allow the nose of the thing to extend out from the trunk and across the seat. It separated Swayne and me. It was an eerie feeling, driving along with that thing under my right arm.
Swayne: And it made navigation more difficult. I had to sit in the back seat with the road maps spread out on my lap, and I didn't really have room to operate. In those days in Japan, the road-map markings and the routes they represented bore little relation to each other. Just finding our way to Hiroshima was a tough job. No divided highways with large green overhead signs.
Bartz: Still, we got there. I didn't have much to do, as it turned out. We weren't bothered the whole time. No enemy fighters to meet us or anything. It was like a weekend drive in the country. It seemed like a shame to abandon such a nice car, but we left the Cadillac in the parking lot of a largish shopping center in Hiroshima, where it would blend in with a lot of other cars, many of them prewar American.
Swayne: I had been trained to operate the bomb, although during the instruction drills I never had any idea of the magnitude of the bomb I'd be working with. I set it to explode in ninety minutes. ConComOp had worked out the schedule with almost split-second precision. That was their thing, even though it rarely worked in practice. Still, we kept amazingly to the schedule. We got out of the car, keeping our eyes on the ground, trying to be inconspicuous in enemy territory. We said goodbye to the faithful Enola Gay, slammed and locked the doors, and walked across the parking lot to where we could catch the bus back to the village of Horoshiga. There would be a submarine waiting for us offshore. That's the last we saw of the plane, but ninety minutes later, many miles away, riding on the bus, we saw the sky turn pinkish-white. It happened with a suddenness like a bolt of lightning. We turned and shook hands all around. We knew that stroke would crumble the Japanese will to continue the war.
Effinger: Do you ever feel the least bit guilty about killing and maiming so many thousands of innocent Japanese civilians?
(Pause)
Swayne: Guilty? Innocent?
Ealywine: We had the weapon. We had the Cadillac to deliver it. Our soldiers and marines, not to mention our fellow aircraft crews, were still dying in large numbers. For four years the Japanese had mercilessly waged war against us. Here we had the chance to end it all, with one shot, tie it up neatly with one hit.
Bartz: There were civilians killed at Pearl Harbor. There were civilians killed everywhere.
Effinger: But the numbers—
Ealywine: All right. According to your thinking there are numbers of civilian dead that ought to make us feel bad, like at Hiroshima. That implies that there are numbers of civilian dead that ought not to make us feel bad, that we ought to accept. Somewhere in the middle those feelings change. Say, if we kill five thousand civilians, it's all ri
ght, but if we kill five thousand and five hundred, we'll be haunted for the rest of our lives. You just can't analyze it like that.
Leaf: You may regret heading up the Manhattan Project, and you may regret encouraging President Jennings to drop the bomb, but I can tell you for a fact that none of the United States Air Force fliers, and none of the rest of the wartime servicemen, and, most likely, truthfully, none of the Japanese people regret the dropping of the bomb. They all appreciate how many lives it saved by avoiding a longer, more protracted war.
Effinger: You know, I've never been able to visualize it like that. But now I think I can begin to learn to live with it.
Swayne: That's the first step. Effinger: Thank you all very much.
Leaf: Not at all. That's what we're here for. Don't give the dead Japanese another thought. After all, they started it, didn't they? It's not often that we get involved in a situation with so clearly marked good and bad sides.
Ealywine: I'm glad we were on the right side.
Effinger: I'm sure that makes it unanimous. Good night, my friends, good night.
NOW, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN PAPERBACK!
SKIES FULL OF DEATH (Original title: TARGET:
BERLIN!)
The fascinating story of World War II as told by one of the most influential leaders of America's struggle for freedom.
SKIES FULL OF DEATH, by George Alec Effinger, a Gemsbok Book.
"The taste of truth pervades each page in a way that simply can't be found in works by mere observers. Effinger was there, and he tells it all the way it happened."
—The Destrehan Sun-Star
SKIES FULL OF DEATH is an amazing account of Effinger's efforts to hold Germany and Japan at bay, and the relationships he endured with less far-sighted members of our nation's leadership.
SKIES FULL OF DEATH will be published March 2, 1983. $1.95, wherever good books are sold. A Gemsbok Book.
TARGET: BERLIN! An eyewitness account of the sometimes madcap goings-on at the top of the executive heap during the Second World War, written by a member of President Roosevelt's inner circle. A must for hobbyists and collectors.
PUB. ED. $12.95: Our remainder price: ONLY $2.95
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
These stories appear in Live! From Planet Earth, a collection of stories by George Alec Effinger.
“The Aliens Who Knew, I Mean, Everything,” first published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, October 1984.
“Target: Berlin!” first published in New Dimensions 6, edited by Robert Silverberg, Harper & Row, 1976.
Copyright © 2011 by The Estate of George Alec Effinger
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN: 978-1-4976-0554-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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The Aliens Who Knew, I Mean, Everything ; Target- Berlin! Page 5
