Going Nuclear

Going Nuclear

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen.At least on paper...

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc.(Yes, I moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

*

I looked at the faded black-and-white photo that fell out of my grandfather's old unit book. I recognized my grandfather right off. He was dressed in his Army uniform, with his hat sitting at a rakish angle on his head.

Standing next to him with her arm draped over his, was an attractive woman wearing a long skirt, blouse and jacket that was typical of the period. I looked on the back of the photo and saw, "Grove and Doris, Hawaii, 1946," handwritten on the back. Grove was my grandfather's name -- Grover Harrison. To me, though, he was always just, "Pops."

So who was Doris, I wondered. I knew it wasn't my grandmother -- her name was Patricia. I had never heard my grandfather ever mention anyone named Doris. Perhaps she was just a girlfriend from his time in the war. I decided to ask him about it the next time I saw him, which would be later that day.

I put everything back and went to my apartment, which took up the entire basement of my grandfather's house. I moved here at his insistence several months ago when he went to the nursing home. It made sense the way he explained it. He wanted someone to look after things while he was gone and it would save me money as well.

For several years now, my grandfather had been suffering from a number of medical issues. Thankfully, Alzheimer's or dementia weren't among them. Nevertheless, it got to the point where he could no longer do the things he used to do and with my parents deceased, there was no one to take care of him in the way he needed.

Sure, he had someone come by once a week to clean the place and gardeners came by once a week to look after the yard. But that wasn't enough. I did as much as I could, but I work during the week. At this stage, he needed full-time care, especially considering that he was now restricted to a wheelchair all day long.

"It's not easy getting around when you're 99 years old, you know," he would say in that Minnesota accent of his. "Things start to break down about that time."

So I took a shower and grabbed a bite to eat, then headed to the nursing home. When I got there, I waved to the nurses at the front desk and signed in.

"How's my grandfather today?" I asked Julie, the nurse at the desk.

"Frisky as ever," she said with a smile. I smiled back.

"Did he try to pat you on the rear end again?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "He does that every morning when I take him his breakfast." I laughed and headed to his private room.

"Hey, Trey, come on in, son," he said when I knocked on his partially-open door. That's me, by the way -- Trey Harrison. I walked in and gave him a manly hug.

"Hey, Pops," I said. "How're you feeling this morning?"

"Oh, fair to middlin' I guess," he said. We talked about a number of things -- fishing, news, the general state of the union -- for a while. Then I pulled out the photo.

"Whatcha got there, son?" he asked. I handed it to him and watched as his face changed. A number of emotions crossed his face -- sadness, anger and maybe a bit of guilt. He looked down and handed the photo back. "Where did you find that?" he asked.

"It fell out of your old unit book from the war," I said. "I was just curious about who she was. I never heard you mention anyone named Doris before. Was she a girlfriend or something?"

"Something, all right," he said. "I thought I had gotten rid of all her pictures. Obviously not."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to drudge up bad memories."

"It's all right, son," he said. "I guess if there's anyone who has a right to know about her, it's you. Listen, why don't you get us a cup of coffee, then close the door and I'll tell you about her."

"Sure, Pops," I said. I grabbed us each a cup of coffee -- decaf for him -- then closed the door and sat back down. While I was up, I turned on the audio recorder on my phone, hoping I had enough space to get the whole thing.

"Thanks, son," he said after I handed him his cup. He collected his thoughts for a bit before he continued. "Just so you know, you're the only person I've ever told this to. I don't care if you record it for yourself, but this absolutely cannot be repeated to anyone, ever. Do you understand me?"

"Sure, Pops," I said. "I'm recording, but it's just for me."

"Okay," he said. He took a sip of coffee and looked up for a minute before continuing.

...

Grove's story, as transcribed from the audio recording:

I should probably start from the beginning. I was halfway into my junior year of college when the Japanese hit Pearl Harbor. Like everyone else, I went down to enlist. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to because of my flat feet. They had never bothered me before, but I didn't argue. So I went back to school and finished my degree in physics.

After I graduated in 1943, the government came to me, if you can believe that. Said they needed my expertise on a new project. Apparently, my flat feet weren't a problem anymore. So I agreed and signed on the bottom line.

They put me through a quick officer's candidate school, made me a second lieutenant, put me in the Army Corps of Engineers and assigned me to something called the Manhattan Project. I was shocked when they told me what it was all about. Who would've ever thought about using nuclear material for a bomb?

It was an exciting time. I actually got to work with some of the most renowned scientists of the day, including J. Robert Oppenheimer and Enrico Fermi. I learned more from them than I did in my whole time at college.

I was one the more than 400 people at the Alamogordo site when the first bomb test was conducted. We didn't even know if the damn thing would work. But it did, and the world changed that very day.

I was sent to Tinian, an island in the Pacific, where I was to help set up and load the bomb that would be used on Hiroshima. We all hoped this would work, and would cause the Japanese to surrender. The bomb worked just fine, but they didn't surrender. Three days later, we sent another bomb, this time to Nagasaki.

We all knew the stakes were high. If the bomb didn't work, or if the Japanese didn't surrender, we would have to send our boys in to take the nation by force. And if that happened, we knew the casualty rate would be extremely high. Fortunately, it worked. The next day, the Japanese offered to surrender. On August 12, the United States said it would accept the offer to surrender. In early September, the formal surrender ceremony took place.

I stayed on Tinian for a while and took part in the damage assessment phase of the attacks on Nagasaki. I still have nightmares about that. It wasn't just the physical damage that got to me -- that was bad enough. It was seeing the survivors and the things they were dealing with. Yes, I was proud that I had helped end the war, but I wasn't proud of the fact that the two bombs I helped deliver to Japan killed over 100,000 people. That still sticks in my craw.

I made my reports and was finally reassigned to something that would turn into "Joint Army/Navy Task Force One" in February 1946, about the time news broke of a Soviet spy ring in Canada that caused a bit of a stir. I went to Hawaii and pulled R&R there for a while, and that's when I met her.

She introduced herself to me as Doris Hastings, originally from Norman, Oklahoma. She was a delightful woman, and quite beautiful. We spent a lot of time together, dancing and making out on the beach.

Of course, she could do a lot more than dance. The things that woman did with her mouth drove me nuts. We had what you would call a whirlwind romance and got married by a justice of the peace in April 1946.

Later that year, I was involved in something called "Operation Crossroads," which consisted of two nuclear tests in the Bikini Atoll. There was a third test scheduled, but that one got canceled.

I re-upped in 1947 and was made part of a joint operation to perform nuclear testing in Nevada. Doris and I moved to what was then the town of Las Vegas, since that was just an hour or so away from where the new testing facility would be located. Believe me, it was nothing compared to what it is now.

Anyway, we continued our lives and I thought things were going well between us. One day, though, as I was making my way home from the test site, I saw Doris' car parked at a motel on the edge of town. That was 1948, I think. My memory's not quite what it used to be. What was she doing there, I wondered. I could only think of one reason why she would be at a motel, and it certainly wasn't good.

...

I stopped the recording when a nurse tapped on the door. Pops and I looked up and saw the young woman enter the room. She walked over to my grandfather and smiled down at him.

"Are you ready for your therapy, Mr. Harrison?" she asked.

"Only if you're taking me," he said with a smile and a wink. I couldn't help but smile watching the old man flirt with the young nurse. She smiled back and unlocked the wheels, then began pushing him to the door.

"I'm gonna be a bit busy for a while, son," he told me. "Come by tomorrow and we'll talk some more."

"Sure, Pops," I said, giving him a goodbye hug. "Take care of my grandfather, now," I said to the nurse.

"Of course," she said. I left the room and headed home. I looked through his things, trying to find a clue about this woman, but found nothing. I looked through all of his old papers, and saw a number of commendations, letters, awards, but nothing that even mentioned this Doris woman -- not even an old marriage license or any records related to a house in Las Vegas. Of course, if there had been anything left, it would probably have been long gone by now, I thought.

I looked at my watch and remembered I had a date with Karen that night, so I got ready and left to pick her up. We had been dating exclusively for the last several months and I was nearly at the point of popping the big question. She looked good, as always, wearing a fairly short green dress that accentuated her eyes and flaming red hair. She also showed off a lot of what Pops called "a great set of gams."

As we sat at the Texas Roadhouse eating, she looked at me with concern.

"Are you alright, Trey?" she asked. "You seem to be a million miles away."

"I went to see Pops today," I said.

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, feisty as ever," I said.

"Well, what's the problem?" she asked, concern on her face.

"I found this today in one of his old unit books from the war," I said, pulling the photo from my pocket. She looked at it for a moment before speaking.

"This is your grandfather?" she asked. I nodded my head. "Good-looking man. I can see where you get your looks from. He kinda reminds me of that actor, Errol Flynn. Who's the woman with him?"

"Her name was Doris. Pops said he was married to her before he married my grandmother," I said. "Funny, I don't recall him ever mentioning her before. My parents never mentioned her, either. I looked, but I couldn't find anything in his stuff mentioning her. No letters, notes, cards, nothing. And you know how he held onto everything."

"Sounds like a mystery to me," she said. "So, are you going to go all Sam Spade on me now?" I laughed.

"No, but I am curious," I said. "I mean, what happened to her?"

"Well, I happen to know some people who search public records for a living," she said. "I can make a couple calls and see what comes up, if that'll help. If he was married to this woman, we should be able to find something. What was her name again?"

"He said it was Doris Hastings, and she was supposedly from Norman, Oklahoma," I said.

"Well, if there is anything, I'm sure we can find it," she said.

"That would be great," I said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. "So, what did your grandfather do during the war?"

"He says he was part of the Manhattan Project," I said.

"Wasn't that the bunch who dropped the bomb on Japan?" she asked. I nodded my head. "Wow," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "He never talked about it before. I know he worked for the government until the late 60s, then went into teaching. That's where he met my grandmother."

"Hmm," Karen said. "Interesting." We dropped the subject and finished our dinner, then went for a drink and some dancing and finally back to my place, where she reminded me again of why I found her so alluring and sexy.

The next morning, she woke up early and padded upstairs to fix us a light breakfast. I rolled out of bed and went upstairs after doing my morning business and throwing on my robe. I got upstairs to see her wearing nothing but an apron, buttering some bagels. Cupping her firm and delectable rear end, I gave her a kiss.

"Watch it now," she said, laughing. She handed me a bagel, which I gladly accepted. I poured us each a cup of coffee and we sat to eat at the breakfast nook.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked.

"Well, I need to get home to get ready for work," she said. I knew she worked at the DMV office. Her job put her in front of people most of the day, renewing vehicle registrations and that sort of thing.

"Why don't you move some stuff in here so you don't have to leave so early?" I asked.

"Why, Trey, that almost sounds like a commitment," she said with a smile. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely," I said, kissing her hand. "I could get used to waking up to this every morning."

"Yeah?" she asked. "Well, you know what they say about redheads, right? You've never seen me get pissed off."

"Then I guess I'll have to be on my best behavior," I told her.

"Damn right," she said with a smile. "I guess we could try for a bit, if you really want to up things a notch. So, what's on your plate today?"

"I have a server install this morning," I said. "I should be finished with that about 2:00 if all goes well, then I'll go over to see Pops. I wanna hear more of his story."

"Okay," she said. "Don't forget, I'll be over at Mom's after work. She promised to help me with something I've been working on. I'll call you this evening, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said. "Tell your mother I said hello."

"I will," she said. "Mom really likes you, you know."

"Yeah, I like her too. She reminds me of you for some reason," I said, causing her to laugh.

"Are we still on for this weekend?" she asked. "Remember, you promised to give me a rematch at the miniature golf course."

"Of course," I said. "Maybe we can go see Pops if you want."

"Sure," she said. "You do know that all he does is look at my legs?" I ran a hand up one of her legs.

"Can you blame the old guy?" I asked. "I like looking at these legs myself."

"You're such a naughty boy," she joked.

"Only with you," I said, prompting a smile. After we finished our breakfast, she went back downstairs and threw her clothes on, then headed out. I gave her a kiss at the door and watched as she got into her car and drove off. I headed back into the kitchen and poured a bowl of cereal. Karen was a wonderful woman, but she ate like a bird.

I finished my cereal and went back downstairs to get ready for the day. I only had the one server install, which suited me just fine. For the last several years, I had worked as a self-employed IT consultant, mostly doing work for various computer manufacturers.

They provided the equipment, scheduled the appointments and I did the work, along with whatever maintenance the client agreed to. The client paid the manufacturer, who, in turn, paid me. The hours were good, the pay was great, and I liked the boss, a man whose face I saw every morning in the mirror.

The install went as I had planned, and by 2:00 pm, everything was up and running just as it should. The client signed off on the work, happy to see the new system in place. I jumped in my work truck, scanned the paperwork with my portable scanner, emailed it to the manufacturer and headed over to see Pops.

"Hey, Pops," I said, giving him a hug. "How're you doing?"

"Oh, fair to middlin, I guess," he said in that accent I loved so much. "I guess you wanna hear more about Doris?"

"Yeah," I said. "If that's alright."

"Sure," he said. "Get some coffee and I'll tell you some more." I poured us each a cup of coffee and put his cup in the holder attached to his chair. I sat down and started my voice recorder.

"So, where was I?" Pops asked.

"You had just seen Doris' car at the motel the first time," I said.

"Oh, yeah," he said. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment before continuing.

...

Grove continues his narration:

After I saw Doris' car at the motel that first day, I went home in a state of turmoil. She had never given me any clue that she wasn't happy in our marriage. She was always loving and warm. I had no idea there was a problem. Perhaps, I thought, it's true the husband is always the last to know about these things.

I knew I needed to get more information before doing anything rash. For starters, I needed to act normally, which was hard. I was hurt, humiliated and more than a little upset. It would be very hard for me to respond to her normally if, in fact, she really was cheating.

I also knew I had to take decisive action, given the sensitivity of my position. Something like this could be used against me by a hostile foreign power. I had been through all the security briefings and had heard this was the type of thing the Reds like to use as blackmail.

I grabbed the telephone book and looked for a private investigator. I called one going by the name of James Ham and spoke to his receptionist. She put me through to him and I made an appointment to see him first thing in the morning. My next call was to my boss. I explained the situation to him and he agreed I needed to get to the bottom of it, so he gave me the day off.

Shortly after I got off the phone, Doris pulled in. She came into the house carrying a bag of groceries and set them down on the kitchen counter. I looked, but didn't see anything out of whack. Her clothes looked fresh, her makeup wasn't messed up and her hair looked as good as it did when I last saw her. She came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek and I didn't detect any strange odors.

"So, how was your day?" she asked.

"Okay, I guess," I told her. Even though she was my wife, I was forbidden from giving any details of my work, so I often spoke in generalities. "Just dealing with things as they come up. How was yours?"

"The same," she said. "Did some shopping, then went to the store and picked up some stuff for dinner."

"So, you didn't go anywhere else or see someone today?" I asked.

"No, nothing else," she said. "Why?" I couldn't believe it. She just lied to my face. How long has she been lying to me like this, I wondered.

"Oh, nothing, I was just curious, that's all," I said. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. "What's on your plate for tomorrow?"

"Probably more of the same," she said. I'll bet, I thought to myself. I changed into some civvies and joined her at the table for dinner. After dinner, we grabbed some sherry and sat down to watch a bit of television. We had bought one of the first TVs mass produced, an old RCA.

There wasn't really a whole lot to watch in those days, not like today, but we enjoyed the old Kraft Television Theatre. Milton Berle was also a favorite of ours, and I always enjoyed the old Superman serials and The Life of Riley. The old Candid Camera came out about that time, too, I think. They sure don't make 'em like that anymore, I tell ya.