from being erased from the map. The nuclear portion of one of the bombs has never been recovered. In 1968 a B52 crashed in Greenland, with the explosives of four Hbombs detonating without unleashing their full power. A nuclear alert was once also triggered by radar waves bouncing off the surface of the Moon and showing up as a swarm of Russian bombers on US early-warning radar screens.
Keeney’s accounts of successive tests remind us of what was at stake throughout the long Cold War. In 1954 a hydrogen bomb codenamed Bravo was tested on the Bikini Atoll in the Pacific. This ‘runaway’ bomb, which was expected to yield eight to ten megatons, exploded with the power of fifteen, each megaton being equivalent to one million tons of TNT. That was more than ever y bomb or shell used by a l l belligerents throughout the Second World War. Thirty miles away a sailor felt as if a ‘blowtorch was going across the back of my neck’. A radioactive cloud a thousand miles long drifted from the blast, which obliterated the atoll. Years later babies shaped like bunches of grapes were still being born to the inhabitants of the Marshall Islands.
By the early 1960s, both the US and the USSR were experimenting with thermonuclear bombs that carried a fifty to sixty megaton yield; in 1961 the Russians detonated such a device on an island in the Arctic Ocean. In order to compensate for the shortfall in the number of nuclear bombs in their arsenal – in 1959 the US had fifteen times as many bombs as them – the Soviets planned to use neutral freighters to drop bombs in US harbours. Four of those covertly delivered devices would have been 100
KENNETH O MORGAN
SPEAKING OUT TO END ALL WARS: HOW THE FIRST
WORLD WAR DIVIDED BRITAIN
By Adam Hochschild (Macmillan 356pp £20)
THE FIRST WORLD War dominated the public memory in twentieth-century Britain. For decades, this generally took the form of scathing denunciation along the lines of Joan Littlewood’s Oh, What a Lovely War! or A J P Taylor’s lectures, juxtaposing bone-headed generals, oblivious to the mass slaughter that cost 720,000 British lives, with a brave but disillusioned populace. This has been shown to be too simple minded. Patr iotic passion was the prevailing wartime outlook. Haig remained an icon until his death, the recipient of an earldom and a publicly funded ancestral Scottish mansion in Bemersyde. For all the éclat of the anti-war poets such as Owen or Sassoon, the greatest literary impact came from the bestselling patriotic verse of megatons each. Afterwards their bombers would go in, passing LeMay’s much larger, outward-bound SAC force. It was calculated that both sides would lose something in the order of seventy million people each in this initial exchange, which, if negotiations did not intervene, would then result in an all-out Holocaust.
By the early Sixties, SAC’s command had itself become fully airborne in twenty planes, while the President theoretically had fifteen minutes to helicopter over to Andrews Air Force base, from where he could hurtle away from the burning ruins of Washington in his own flying National Emergency Command Post (codenamed ‘Nightwatch’). But by then a finger on the button was no longer necessary, since both sides had dead-hand switch mechanisms whereby the machines could activate missile systems upon detecting light or thermal bursts in their vicinity. As bombers were superseded by ICBMs hidden in Nebraska or Wyoming, each missile being equipped with its own complex deception systems, human initiative and judgement were replaced by computers. The B-52s’ undercarr iages were sprayed black instead of white and sent to Vietnam and Laos for conventional raids.
At the end of his fine book, L Douglas Keeney sighs with relief that this era is over. Of course it isn’t. Many of the measures and countermeasures he describes seem highly rational to anyone not crazed by CND; one wonders how a future nuclearised Middle East will seem with leaders who think an apocalypse is a religious event or that guiding angels hover over battlefields. Then we might be positively nostalgic for General Curtis LeMay. ❑
Rupert Brooke. The British also cherished their Armistice Day, a unique national ‘ceremony for the fallen in battle’. Some historians have gone further, seeing generals like Haig, obsessed with their cavalry, as grand masters of strategy, their offensives at the Somme and Passchendaele wreaking hidden damage on the German militar y machine and leading to virtuous triumph in 1918 against almost insuperable odds.
Adam Hochschild, author of a fascinating book on Leopold II’s atrocities in the Belgian Congo, largely reverts to the earlier tradition. For him the war was ‘madness’, a gruesome saga of pointless cruelty. Its legacies lay in another war, inevitable from the outcome of the peace treaties, and in the brutalising of the moral sensitivities of mankind. But he reaches this conventional conclusion in an interesting and unconventional way, setting individuals supportive of and opposed to the war against each other. In some cases, they were related. Sir John French, the British commander of the grisly first year and a half, was the brother of Charlotte Despard, the cr usading anti-war dissenter and militant socialist. Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughter Christabel, ardent suffragette leaders who became ferocious supporters of the war and advocates of conscr iption, broke with
LITERARY REVIEW May 2011