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Catch-22 with radiation.
Area 51 meets Dr. Strangelove.
Except it really happened.

Operation Redwing, the biggest and baddest of America's atmospheric nuclear weapons test regimes, mixed saber rattling with mad science, while overlooking the cataclysmic human, geopolitical and ecological effects. But mostly, it just messed with guys' heads.
Major Maxwell, who put Safety First, Second and Third. Except when he didn't.
Berko, the wise-cracking Brooklyn Dodgers fan forced to cope with the H-bomb and his mother's cookies.
Tony, who thought military spit and polish plus uncompromising will power made him an exception.
Carl Duncan, who clung to his girlfriend's photos and a dangerous secret.
Major Vanish, who did just that.
In THE ATOMIC TIMES, Michael Harris welcomes readers into the U.S. Army's nuclear family where the f-words were fallout and fireball. In a distinctive narrative voice, Harris describes his H-bomb year with unforgettable imagery and insight into the ways isolation and isotopes change men for better--and for worse.

"A gripping memoir leavened by humor, loyalty and pride of accomplishment. A tribute to the resilience, courage and patriotism of the American soldier." --Henry Kissinger

"One of the best books I've ever read, combining elements of Catch 22 and Dr. Strangelove in a memoir both hilarious and tragic. A 'must' read, destined to become a classic." --John G. Stoessinger, Ph.D. (Harvard), winner of the Bancroft Prize for Inernational Affairs, member of the Council on Foreign Relations

"Harris has seamlessly presented a colorful cast of characters, and a shockingly honest depiction of his experience. The effect is at once deeply personal and politically profound." --Senator Charles Schumer

"Harris' frank and disturbing descriptions of the criminally irresponsible proceedings on Eniwetok, and the physical and mental pain he and others endured, constitute shocking additions to atomic history. Amazingly enough, given his ordeal, Harris remains healthy." --Booklist

"Harris uses a chatty, dead-pan voice that highlights the horrifying absurdity of life on the island:  the use of Geiger counters to monitor scrambled eggs' radiation level, three-eyed fish swimming in the lagoon, corroded, permanently open windows that fail to keep out the radioactive fall-out and men whose toenails glow in the dark. (The money initially earmarked for enlisted men's goggles was diverted to buy new furniture for the colonel's house. 'Goggles are important,' Harris is told. 'But the colonel's furniture is important, too.') An entertaining read in the bloodline of Catch-22, Harris achieves the oddest of victories: a funny, optimistic story about the H-bomb." --Publisher's Weekly
From the Author
Three-eyed fish swimming in the clear waters of the lagoon.  Men whose toenails glow in the dark.  Operation Redwing where the F words were Fallout and Fireball. In 1956, I was an army draftee sent to the Marshall Islands to watch 17 H-bomb tests. An "observer," the Army called it. In plain English: a human guinea pig.

I knew at the time that the experience could make a fascinating book, and I wrote a novel based on it while I was still there. The problem was that Eniwetok was a security post. There were signs everywhere impressing on us that the work going on (I mopped floors, typed, filed requisitions and wrote movie reviews for the island newspaper "All the news that fits we print") was Top Secret. "What you do here, what you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here leave it here."

I was afraid they would confiscate the manuscript if they found it but a buddy who left Eniwetok before I did concealed the pages in his luggage. When he got back to the States, he mailed those pages to my father so I had what turned out to be a very rough draft.

What was wrong with the book?  Let me count the ways.  I didn't know how to write action, plot and character.  I did know how to leave out everything interesting that was happening  around me. Back in the States after my discharge, I thought about writing Version #2 but for ten years, I had nightmares about the H-bomb almost every night.  I survived the radiation (unlike some of my friends), but the memories were also a formidable foe.  I tried to forget and more or less succeeded.

My perspective gradually changed over the years and I began to remember what I had tried to forget:
We were told we had to wear high density goggles during the tests to avoid losing our sight but the shipment of goggles never arrived--the requisition was cancelled to make room for new furniture for the colonel's house.
We were told we had to stand with our backs to the blast--again to prevent blindness. But the first H-bomb ever dropped from a plane missed its target, and the detonation took place in front of us and our unprotected eyes.
Servicemen were sent to Ground Zero wearing only shorts and sneakers and worked side by side with scientists dressed in RadSafe suits. The exposed military men developed severe radiation burns and many died.

The big breakthrough came when enough years had passed and I had overcome the anger and the self-pity resulting from the knowledge that I and the men who served with me had been used as guinea pigs in a recklessly dangerous and potentially deadly experiment. At last I had the perspective to understand my nuclear year in its many dimensions and capture the tragedy and the black humor that came along with 17 H-bomb explosions. In addition,  certain significant external realities had changed.

  • Top Secret documents about Operation Redwing had been declassified.  I learned new details about the test known as Tewa:  the fallout lasted for three days and the radiation levels exceeded 3.9 Roentgens, the MPE (Maximum Permissible Exposure).  Three ships were rushed to Eniwetok to evacuate personnel but were ordered back after the military raised the MPE to 7.  That, they reasoned, ensured everyone's safety.
  • I made contact with other atomic veterans who told me about their own experiences and in some cases sent me copies of letters written to their families during the tests.  As we talked, we also laughed:  about officers who claimed Eniwetok was a one year paid vacation;  about the officer who guarded the political purity of the daily island newspaper by deleting "pinko propaganda," including a speech by President Eisenhower.
  • By now, Ruth knew the material almost as well as I did and provided crucial perspective and detailed editing expertise.


At last, I was able to pull all the strands together.  After 50 years, I was able write the book I had wanted to in the beginning.

Having struggled to write a memoir for so long and having been asked for advice by others contemplating writing a memoir, I can pass along a bit of what I learned along the way.

  • Make sure you have enough distance from the experience to have perspective on what happened.   Exposure to radiation and the resulting reactions--anger, terror, incredulity--produce powerful emotions that take time  to process.
  • Figure out how to use (or keep away) from your own intense feelings.  In the case of the H-Bomb tests, anger and self-pity were emotions to stay away from.  So was the hope of somehow getting "revenge."
  • Sometimes the unexpected works. For me, finding humor in a tragic situation--  the abject military incompetence in planning and executing the H-Bomb tests--freed my memory and allowed me to write about horrific experiences.
  • Figure out (most likely by trial and error) how much or how little of yourself you want to reveal.

My other memoir—it's about a much happier time in my life—is Always On Sunday: An Inside View of Ed Sullivan, the Beatles, Elvis, Sinatra & Ed's Other Guests and is also available on Kobo.

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The Atomic Times: My H-Bomb Year at the Pacific Proving Ground
Average rating
4.4 / 5
August 17th, 2015
Increasingly sinister as one progresses through it. I found my anger rising regularly. This is an important read.
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1 review
Good Read
December 16th, 2014
A look back at the cold war and the infatuation with h-bomb. Not too mention the total disregard for the soldiers that were put in harm's way.
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