From: Wigwam1955@aol.com
To: histgaz@aracnet.com
Subject: Atomic Veteran
Cyclone fences and SPs checked our coming and going at the Destroyer
Docks in San Diego in April 1955. Half of our duty day was spent
attending classes where we were to learn the basics of the atomic bomb.
This was preparation for the real thing and included some tight security
of personnel to say the least. Shore Patrol and plain clothesmen that
were rumored to be FBI. I had heard that seamen who had gotten pretty
loose in area bars were yanked right off their seats and jailed til the
end of May.
During this same period of time we were preparing 'Squaws',
converted subs, stripped of their rigging and loaded with lead that
would enable the squaw to sink to the required depth. I was stationed
aboard the Cree, ATF-84, one of three sea going tugs assigned the task
of pulling one of the three squaws. No one knew but one of the squaws
contained a thirty kiloton nuclear device.
We put to sea in early May with other support ships, about thirty or
so. There were floating labs, barges with corregated buildings on
board. These contained various types of measuring and detecting
equipment. We proceeded to a rendezvous point some three hundred miles
south west of Long Beach. The squaws had their tanks blown, remotely.
The squaws were to sink to an approximate depth 2,000 feet. All ships
left ground zero and moved to a point (we were told) was three miles
away. Actually, I understood later that our distance was closer. No
one could tell exactly where ground zero was. Aboard the Cree any off
duty personnel were allowed to stay on the fantail to observe the
detonation.
A wall of water rose up from the ocean's depths, spanning the horizon from
left to right, totally. The color was blue-green mixed with a brilliant
white. The center being nearest us, raised to the highest point of some
three to five hundred feet, I would guess. The sound of the blast
sounded like low thunder times ten, rumbling, preceeding the shock wave.
It glided across the ocean surface, leaving a glass-like surface as it
passed. The ship pitched and rolled as if it were in a typhoon. The
mast whipped like a fencing foil. This took a total of maybe three
minutes. Those of us on deck had to go quickly below and battan down
the hatches. The returning shock wave is always much worse. None had
sea legs that could stand against it. If you can imagine it, the hand
of God scooping up our small ship and shaking it. We stayed below no
more then ten minutes. The next duty was to decontaminate the ship by
hosing it with sea water as we had been instructed. We had been told
that this would remove the contamination.
The ship to ship radios were buzzing with reports of equipment that had
to be cut from the decks of ships and pushed over the side. One LSD to
our side lost its entire tail gate from the enormous after shock. I
can't say how much time passed with this type of activity. We were
ordered to steam toward Long Beach. Before we could get there the
orders were changed. We were ordered to anchor 5 miles off shore of
Santa Catalina. Three days later we were considered safe enough to dock
in San Diego.
Most of our crew never seemed to consider that there was any real danger
to ourselves from the affects of the bomb. I remember being amazed that
equipment had to be thrown over board. That was when it struck me,
someone hadn't been completely honest with us. Hanging on my wall is
the sole prize of this experience, a certificate signed by Rear Admiral
John Sylvester in recognition of my participation in Operation Wig Wam,
Task Group 7.3, May 1955.
Richard (Rick) O. Edwards
Wigwam1955@aol.com
319-268-0784
Keith Whittle
Friday, November 25, 1997
[ Operation Wigwam ]
