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January 26, 2005
An Historical Suggestion

We have just passed Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday, on January 19th. And once again, as in every year since 1949, an unknown someone has left three roses and a half-empty bottle of cognac at his gravesite.

The cause of Poe’s death remains unknown. He was found unconscious on the street in Baltimore, and taken to a hospital, where he died several days later without ever regaining consciousness. The mystery of Poe’s death has produced a lot of discussion over the years. This post will add to that.

A number of people have noted Poe’s reputation as a drunkard. He was known to drink — occasionally or frequently, depending on whose description is used — and was often seen in an inebriated condition. In fact, his drinking was the reason that his name was crossed out of the family Bible. (And that's without the later suggestions Poe might have been involved with drugs.)

But there was another piece to Poe’s reputation as well: He was known to have a low tolerance for alcohol, and it was said of him that one glass of wine would put him “under the table”. This observation is one of the two keys to my new suggestion.

The other key comes from family history. At least parts of the Miller, Daffron, and Poe families were quite close. Elements of these three families traveled down the Ohio River together, settled in southeast Missouri, and intermarried over multiple generations. (These are collateral lines, not descendants — Edgar Allan Poe had no children.) And it is notable that diabetes is quite frequent among these Miller and Daffron families in the 20th century. (I don't know about the related Poe family.)

With the prior observations, this history suggests the possibility that Edgar Allan Poe may have been diabetic. (Diabetes could not be readily diagnosed or treated during Poe’s lifetime.) If so, he may have passed out due to low blood sugar, and not due to being drunk as has so long been asserted. And if that is the case, it adds to the tragedy of his early death as it raises the possibility that he could have been revived at any time in those last days by simply pouring some fruit juice down his throat.

This description is not definitive. It is certainly possible the diabetic tendencies enterred these family lines from another direction and/or at a later time. Nevertheless, the combination of the family history of diabetes and the observations of Edgar Allan Poe is very suggestive.
 


July 23, 2005
Nuclear History I

The following story is from 1945, and is true:

Marty had been eager when she boarded the bus that would take her from Jacksonville, Illinois, to Tucson, Arizona. The war in Europe was over, which meant Bud would be returning home. Marty didn't know just when Bud would get home. But she wanted to get back to Tucson, eager to be home again and eager to lay the groundwork so she and Bud could get married soon after he arrived.

Now it was late at night (actually, early in the morning) as the bus rolled across New Mexico. Everyone else was asleep — only Marty and the bus driver were awake, and they were in the middle of a long discussion. Suddenly, the sky lit up with a brilliant light that seemed brighter than mid-day. Everything in sight stood out, but it wasn't obvious where the light was coming from.

The discussion stopped. When it started again, the topic for all the rest of the trip to Tucson was “What was that????” They were unable to find any reasonable explanation.

Marty figured it out three weeks later when the headlines spoke of the use of a new type of weapon — an atomic bomb — over Hiroshima, Japan. The news stories said there had been a test in the New Mexico desert. A check of the calendar showed that she and the bus driver had seen the flash from the Trinity Test.

(Bud had been stuck in Europe, along with many others, wondering why they weren’t being sent home and released. He may not have known the Army was working on the logistics of shipping them all from the European to the Pacific Theater. Bud returned home five months later, and my parents were married December 24.)

Sixty years later, my wife and I joined in the event at the National Atomic Museum commemorating the Trinity Test and the beginning of the Atomic Age. It started the night before. We ate dinner with an older couple; she lived through the bombing in Germany as a young girl, while he had seen the Trinity flash on his way to go fishing outside Roswell. There were 1940's cars in the parking lot, and wartime fashions were shown. The meat of the evening was a panel discussion (more a series of presentations) by two historians and two men who had been part of the Manhattan Engineering District — the Manhattan Project.

The next morning, the sixtieth anniversary of the test, we were on one of the event's three buses. The White Sands Missile Range had the site open for the anniversary. (Normally, it's only open to the public on two Saturdays a year — one in October and one in April.) We were at Stallion Gate when it opened, and drove in to the McDonald Ranch house where the plutonium pit was assembled. We then spent some time at Ground Zero, before having green chile cheeseburgers at the Owl Cafe in San Antonio (where Manhattan Project people often ate on their way back and forth between the site and Los Alamos) before returning to Albuquerque.

One of the benefits of going as part of the group from the National Atomic Museum was that we weren't just on our own looking around. Panel members from the night before spoke at the locations, giving us more of a picture of the conditions of sixty years ago. We also heard at least parts of interviews by various press organizations.

At the ranch house, an historian from the museum gave a picture of the camp that existed nearby at that time. He noted that the well and windmill could produce only about a gallon per hour of not very good water — which was why water for the several hundred people at the camp was trucked in. The one luxury was the stock tank, which was used as a swimming pool. The man who in 1945 was a sergeant in the Special Engineering Detachment, and brought the plutonium pit down from Los Alamos, told something of the checkout and assembly process. He noted that the markings on the door (clean your feet, don't track in dust, etc.) were not authentic because they were done in chalk then, while the ones you see now are painted on. He also told of the hiccup in everyones' heartbeats when parts of the device that fit perfectly in Los Alamos failed to fit at the site. That turned out to be a thermal problem, which was resolved as they completed the device assembly.

The historian speaking at Ground Zero (Ferenc Szasz, author of The Day the Sun Rose Twice)focussed on the difficulties in actually performing it. This included worrying whether the night's thunderstorms would clear before morning, and needing the wind to come from the proper direction. General Groves directly threatened the meteorologist that night, but fortunately the weather worked out well. That still left the question of whether the device would work properly, and with what kind of explosive yield. Of course, it did work — as everyone who saw the flash can attest.

On the bus ride home, I thought about the wartime focus that allowed a new weapon — a new class of weapon — to be used in the war just three weeks after the test that showed it would work. That's a very different timeline from what we see today. But it did bring the war to an end.

The National Atomic Museum is hosting another event, three weeks after this one, that has as its focus the use of these new weapons during the August missions of the Enola Gay and Bock's Car that dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

More information on the Trinity test and site can be found at the following web locations (among others):


 

August 6, 2005
Nuclear History II

With the Trinity test, the Manhattan Project was effectively complete — and was a success. The atomic reactor under the Stagg Field stands at the University of Chicago had proved the nuclear chain reaction would work. The uranium enrichment effort at Oak Ridge had been successful; the cyclotron-based effort in Berkeley was successful, though less efficient. The plutonium production efforts at Hanford were sucessful. And the Trinity test proved the design group was successful in designing a potentially weaponizable device. The question now became how and whether to use atomic weapons against the enemy.

By the time of the Trinity test, however, it had already been decided (subject to President Truman’s final decision) to assure “the successful combat use of an atomic bomb at the earliest possible date after a field test of an atomic explosion and after the availability of the necessary material.” Targets had already been selected using criteria that required military significance in a large, largely intact, target city. Hiroshima was included as an industrial center that was an army embarkation port and the southern headquarters of the Japanese army. The heavy industrial city of Nagasaki was was a secondary target behind the military arsenal and steel center of Kokura.

I have heard a spokesman for the Los Alamos Study Group (LASG) express his opinion (as if it were fact) that the “viewpoint” that the use of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki speeded the end of World War II was “no longer respectable”. I have also heard spokesmen for that group state that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were civilian, not military, targets. And I have seen their demonstrators’ signs quoting General Curtis LeMay saying thet Japan would have collapsed within two weeks with or without the use of the atomic bombs. (That sign — which may or may not have been accurate — made me think of LeMay’s equally accurate Congressional testimony that a ballistic missile was a physical impossibility.)

I respectfully disagree with the LASG and its supporters on several grounds.

First, these cities were not “non-military”, not “civilian targets”. They were selected as potential targets because of being military-industrial centers and military command centers. Yes, they were selected from among the list of potential targets in part because they had not previously been heavily attacked, but that does not make them invalid as targets. As targets, they were no less valid than Berlin, Tokyo, and Dresden.

Second, the purpose of any military attack, first and foremost, is to reduce or end the enemy’s ability and willingness to wage war — to damage the enemy and to convince him that he cannot win. This was precisely the purpose of the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Even so, even after the atomic attacks, Japan’s military council still intended to proceed with a fight to the death under their Ketsu Go (Operation Decisive) strategy. It was only in the early hours of the day after the atomic bombing of Nagasaki — the second atomic bombing — that the emperor intervened with the decision for surrender. (Incidentally, had Japan not surrendered when it did, the third atomic bomb was targeted for Tokyo as soon as it could be transported to Tinian Island from the U.S.)

Third, the number of casualties to be expected in an invasion of the Japanese home islands, which would have been necessary had the Japanese not capitulated after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, would have been horrendous. The number of American casualties, both in absolute numbers and as a fraction of the invasion force, increased exponentially island by island as the American forces approached Japan. Entry onto the home islands would certainly have been even more costly. The invasion plans had already been made under the overall title of Operation Downfall, incorporating two separate invasions under the code names Olympic and Coronet. General Douglas MacArthur projected at least a million U.S. casualties (killed and wounded) in the first year of these invasions. We now know the defending force was more than three times what was expected then, making the one million casualty estimate almost certainly a substantial underestimate.

Fourth, the number of Japanese casualties in the invasion and in the pre-invasion bombings would have been even larger than the number of American casualties, and far larger than the number in the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. More than 100,000 people died in the firebombing of Tokyo in March of 1945. Similar bombings of multiple Japanese cities would have preceded any U.S. invasion. It would not have mattered to those killed whether they died from conventional or atomic bombing — whether their cities were destroyed by one bomber or a thousand.

Fifth, and more personally, there were the American prisoners of war — including those captured at Bataan and put through the Death March, like my uncle — being held on the Japanese home islands. The POW camp commanders had standing orders to execute all prisoners in the event of an invasion. By avoiding the invasion, making it unnecessary, the atomic attacks directly saved these men’s lives.

The revisionists among us would pretend that Japan’s situation in the middle of 1945 was hopeless, that Japan knew it was hopeless and was seeking to surrender, and that the American government knew this and dropped the atomic bombs anyway. The reality is that, in spite of their losses, the Japanese military was still insisting on fighting on and — if it hadn’t been for the atomic bombs — would have done so. The use of the atomic bombs therefore saved hundreds of thousands of lives — AT LEAST — and may have saved millions. (And, given the larger than expected numbers of defenders, there’s no guarantee the U.S would have prevailed in the invasion of Japan.)

The revisionists either ignore or never knew the conditions of 1945 and what they meant to those who lived through them. At the 60th anniversary commemoration of the Trinity Test, I met a pilot from the European Theater of World War II. In the summer of 1945, he already had orders to the Pacific Theater, which were cancelled after V-J Day. His comment: “This bomb saved my life!” The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki also almost certainly gave me (among many others) the chance to be born. They allowed my father, a veteran of the Normandy invasion, to return home to marry my mother instead of being sent to be part of the Japanese invasion (which would have been much larger than the Normandy invasion). His brother is the uncle mentioned above who survived the Death March. There are many similar stories, some by recognized writers, some gathered and published by others, and most less generally available. All are worth seeking out. And virtually all include a recognition of the huge number of casualties — Allied, Japanese, and others in the Japanese-occupied countries — avoided because of the war’s end.

Leon Smith, one of the 509th Composite Bomb Group’s three weaponeers on Tinian Island, was asked by a Japanese documentary film crew years later how he felt when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. (By a flip of the coin, he flew on the post-war test at Bikini Atoll instead of on either of the missions to Hiroshima and Nagasaki.) He recounted his response as follows:

I pointed out there had been a long war — intensive battles starting in the South Pacific, moving ever northward toward Japan. I talked about the 30,000 Japanese soldiers, 20,000 civilians, lost on Saipan. On Iwo Jima, which was roughly halfway to Japan and a fighter base, 60,000 Marines went ashore, and suffered the highest casualty rate they’d ever suffered in any Marine operation. The Japanese had 21,000 defenders. 20,000 died. The battle for Okinawa had just been completed at the end of June. There over 100,000 Japanese soldiers died. 125-150,000 civilians.

General Marshall believed that defending Japan were 2.3 million soldiers, 4 million trained army and navy people, and 28,000 civilians [sic] that had just been given training and armaments. [Smith mis-stated this last figure — it was actually 28 million.] I said the invasion was scheduled for November of '45. I thought the casualties would have been simply unreal — beyond comprehension.

I said, “How did I feel when the bomb was dropped? I felt a sense of relief.” I was confident that the war would soon be over. That I could go back and see my wife whom I'd seen very little since our marriage in 1941. The U.S. and its allies could go back to their homes and their families. And the Japanese could go back to their families. Yes, I felt a sense of relief.

Today is the 60th anniversary of the Enola Gay’s flight to Hiroshima. It is an appropriate day to remember all these things.
 

August 8, 2006
PC Run Amok

This story was forwarded to me by a friend. I can’t vouch for it — and I haven’t been to the World War II Memorial yet — but it is very plausible and fits in with other incidents of “Political Correctness” from around the country.

Send the Engravers Back

Today I went to visit the new World War II Memorial in Washington, DC. I got an unexpected history lesson. Because I’m a baby boomer, I was one of the youngest in the crowd. Most were the age of my parents, veterans of “the greatest war,” with their families. It was a beautiful day, and people were smiling and happy to be there. Hundreds of us milled around the memorial, reading the inspiring words of Eisenhower and Truman that are engraved there.

On the Pacific side of the memorial, a group of us gathered to read the words President Roosevelt used to announce the attack on Pearl Harbor:

“Yesterday, December 7, 1941, a date which will live in infamy — the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked.”
One elderly woman read the words aloud:
“With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbending determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph.”
But as she read, she was suddenly turned angry. “Wait a minute,” she said, “They left out the end of the quote. They left out the most important part. Roosevelt ended the message with ‘so help us God.’ ”

Her husband said, “You are probably right. We're not supposed to say things like that now.”

“I know I'm right,” she insisted. “I remember the speech.” The two looked dismayed, shook their heads sadly and walked away.

Listening to their conversation, I thought to myself, “Well, it has been over 50 years. She's probably forgotten.”

But she had not forgotten. She was right.

I went home and pulled out the book my book club is reading — Flags of Our Fathers by James Bradley. It's all about the battle at Iwo Jima. I haven’t gotten too far in the book — it’s tough to read because it’s a graphic description of the W.W.II battles in the Pacific.

But right there it was on page 58. Roosevelt’s speech to the nation ends in “so help us God.”

The people who edited out that part of the speech when they engraved it on the memorial could have fooled me. I was born after the war. But they couldn’t fool the people who were there. Roosevelt’s words are engraved on their hearts.

Now I ask: Who gave them the right to change the words of history??????

Is any comment really necessary?

Category: History
 


March 7, 2007
An Overdue CMOH

I've noted a long overdue Congressional Medal of Honor presentation to then-Maj Bruce Crandall, the hotshot helo pilot from We Were Soldiers and the book on which it was based. Both book and movie were mostly about the 1965 battle in Viet Nam's Ia Drang Valley. I can only react with “About d----d time!” It's only forty years late! Part of that delay was Crandall’s insistence that his name be withdrawn in favor of his wingman, then-Capt Ed Freeman, who was awarded the Medal of Honor in 2001.

I'm sure there are other (better?) descriptions of Crandall’s Medal of Honor and the events on which it was based, and I would appreciate hearing about any good ones. The ones I've noted include the article from AFIS and the item written by Joseph Galloway, who was there and with LtGen Harold Moore co-authored We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young. I also liked the write-up by Blackfive. LtCol (ret.) Crandall now lives in Washington state, and is featured in a story in the Seattle Times. Some quirks in the coverage are noted by Dan Henninger in the Wall Street Journal.

I haven’t read much of the book yet, but will. The movie is extremely well done. Both are highly recommended.
 

Update (March 9): I had sent words very similar to those above to several friends. One high school friend, a retired Army colonel, wrote back to the group with the following:
It is a great story. There are many such stories, most of which don’t result in the CMH being awarded. I know Bruce, having served with him and living nearby.

The specific acts that he did pretty much parallel the acts of Major General Pat Brady, an aviator from the Medical Service Corps. He actually received his medal “in due course” i.e., within a couple of years. He lives out here too and he and I were on the board of a non-profit for a couple of years, the only veterans on it, so I was honored to be with him. Also knew him from our time in the Pentagon. His BG job was Army Chief of Public Affairs.

The major thing about both of these instances, and quite a bit differently from folks who jumped on grenades to save their buddies, is that they knew what the risks were, and were out of harm’s way when they went back for more help, more fuel and replacements that enabled them to go back in and evac the wounded. They knew and had plenty of time to think about what they were doing and risking. That is when you know what you are made of. When you are really pretty sure you are going to die doing what you are about to do, and you do it anyway, for the chance that you may help save someone else's life?

If any of you have not read the novel The Aviators, by W.E.B. Griffin, I'd suggest it. Tells more about the kinds of guys like Bruce and Pat. But after that, seek out a copy of a book whose title I’ve forgotten but it was written by William E. Butterworth, which is WEB Griffin’s real name, while he was in the Army and worked at Fort Rucker in Public Affairs. It is the only book by that name that you will find, published in the sixties or early 70’s by the government printing office. I know there is a copy in the Pentagon library because I’ve read it.

Well, in that book, he tells some of the stories of heroism in flight by Army helo pilots that “only” resulted in them getting a Distinguished Service Cross or Silver Star, numbers two and three in the list of heroism medals. I was put on it by the Chief of Military History, who was a War College classmate with whom I occasionally had lunch.

I would tell you that the awards system has its faults, but it got it right this time with Bruce. I have seen other pilots turn pale when told they were needed to go on such a mission.

Warm wishes, to you all


 

June 16, 2007
Twenty Years Ago

It was twenty years ago this week — on June 12, 1987 — that Ronald Reagan stood at the Berlin Wall and issued his most famous challenge: “Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” The Wall came down just two years later. Now only a small piece remains, which the German government is trying its best to preserve as a remembrance and a memorial.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. The State Department and the National Security Council both objected, saying it was both useless and needlessly provocative. Of course, they were wrong. Reagan knew it and kept the line in the speech, knowing it was the right thing to say. Eventually, we all knew it, too.

Category: History
 


July 4, 2007
Happy Fourth!


Yes, we have our disagreements. Some are even important. But let's remember what binds us together. Two hundred thirty-one years ago, our Founding Fathers created our nation as one of the most audacious experiments in history. Since then, we have become the greatest nation on God's green earth — and that's something to celebrate!
 


July 7, 2007
Certified Pits

Did you know the U.S. hasn't been capable of making nuclear weapons since1989?
 


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