The Day We Lost the H-Bomb: Cold War, Hot Nukes, and the Worst Nuclear Weapons Disaster in History by Barbara Moran
Ballantine Books, 336 pages, $26.00. Release date: April 28, 2009
On January 17, 1966, an American B-52 bomber carrying four unarmed thermonuclear weapons exploded during an airborne refueling operation. Three bombs landed in Palomares, a farming village on the southern tip of Spain, but where was the fourth? Barbara Moran's new book, "The Day We Lost the H-Bomb: Cold War, Hot Nukes, and the Worst Nuclear Weapons Disaster in History" deftly describes a military operation fraught with terrifying consequences.
Out of the three top-secret H-Bombs that fell on land, only one was found in relatively good condition. The two others had cratered the earth, spreading pieces of the weapon along with contamination for hundreds of yards. "The SAC's final report of the accident said that most of the weapon was so mangled 'that you couldn't tell what is was or where it came from.'"
Authorities expected fury from the Spanish villagers. Instead, they were greeted with concern. Men from the village helped recovery body parts from the seven airmen who died in the explosion. Others, like Pepe Lopez, found one of the bombs near a small brush fire and stomped it out with his foot. Francisco Simo Orts, a fisherman, witnessed the explosion and tried to help the military recover the fourth bomb.
The Spanish government, under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco, worked with the U.S. military to cover-up the incident. They never wanted to see the word "nuclear" in connection with the accident, lest it call into question why Americans were flying over Spanish airspace in planes loaded with nukes. As Moran explains, the Strategic Air Command performed flyovers to deter a sneak attack by the Soviets. Both the military and the public agreed that peaceful coexistence with the Communists could only be achieved through strength.
The international press, however, knew a cover-up when they saw it. News leaked out about the flyovers, a missing bomb and men in radiation suits testing the soil. The military continued plodding along, despite the attention. Engineers tried to calculate the location of the device by running formulas through an IBM 7090 computer.
Through these calculations and the fisherman's observations, the military concluded that the missing bomb was located in the Mediterranean Sea. Once they discovered the location of the device, the military was forced to use its equipment in an innovative way. Two submarines, the Alvin and the Aluminaut took turns babysitting the bomb, coming far closer to each other than was previously allowed. Authorities developed a contraption they called POODL: "...a seven-foot-tall steel frame shaped like a giant shuttle-cock and mounted with a slew of items."
The military's first attempt at salvaging the bomb was a failure; it took days to find it again. Meanwhile, the world wondered if the bomb would ever be raised from the ocean. Could it go off accidentally? Would the Soviets find it and hold America hostage?
Moran's story brings to mind a time when paranoia was not only fashionable but correct. The Soviets were actively engaged in monitoring the recovery and denouncing the flyovers. The rest of the world grew concerned about that similar accidents might happen to them. Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara urged the Joint Chiefs of Staff to curtail the Strategic Air Command flyover program. "In June of 1966, President Johnson approved a curtailed program, allowing only four nuclear-armed bombers on airborne alert each day." Still, another accident similar to Palomares happened only two years later in Greenland. The flyovers were finally cancelled in 1968.
While the military was both heroic and lucky in their successful salvage of the fourth bomb, one's mind can easily drift back to 9/11. During the World Trade Center search and recovery, workers and residents weren't given correct information about the toxicity of the cloud and ash. In fact, many rescue workers didn't even have adequate equipment to do their jobs.
Moran writes: "Thus, the early days of the Palomares cleanup were decidedly ad hoc. Any men plowing, scraping, or removing vegetation were supposed to wear gloves, surgical caps, and masks. Anyone working in a dusty area was supposed to wear a half-face respirator... Some adhered to these guidelines, and enforcement certainly got more strict as the operation progressed. But many airmen recall spotty safeguards and monitoring in the beginning."
The Air Force asked men not to wear protective suits so that villagers would not be scared. To decontaminate themselves, men took baths in the Mediterranean Sea. Workers tested high for contamination, and eventually were allowed to wear protective suits. Showers were built to allow men to wash off the contamination.
"In an emergency situation, authorities want to prevent undue panic, a logical and even admirable goal. But in Palomares, it is unclear whether the Air Force crossed a line, choosing public relations over public health."
Moran's book is filled with facts and details which at times can overwhelm the average reader. Still, those looking for improvements in how our government handles crises will learn that there hasn't been much improvement since 1966.
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