Three Green Berets go into a city after the bomb, to search for any survivors and to give report. There was something else there, under the debris, that was a far greater threat.
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After the Bomb
M TERESA CLAYTON·SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2016
The city looked like a trash heap for as far as the eye could see. Buildings no longer stood tall and proud, announcing the names of businesses and what had once been representative of the many people who gave the better part of their lives to the success of those companies. No windows to reflect the time of day as the sun made its way from east to west and no doors to welcome customers and clients when they came to call. Bones. Just bones of city life. There were no cries for help, no screams of terror, not a sound came from this landscape.
Where were the birds, the squirrels in the park in the center of this district and, as I stood there taking it all in, what district is this? There was no delineation between townships, there was no way to tell one neighborhood from the others. Bodies lie among the heap of stones, but were burned beyond recognition. I couldn't tell a child from an adult, a black man from a white man, an office worker from the tradesman. There were no fire engines, no ambulances, a few police cars that were barely recognized from the devastation, except for a blue or red light that survived the tumult and demolition.
I stood with two other men, wearing our protective suits and masks. The only sound made was the inhale and exhale of our own breathing through these masks. Three men. We were given our orders to go in and find survivors. We would soon be reporting to our superiors that no one survived. There simply wasn't anything left of the city. We stood at ground zero and our equipment was resounding with rapid beeps, warning that the environment here was not safe. I wondered where we could go that would be safe? We had no idea who was responsible for this attack. We had no idea if there was more to come. Where could we go to be safe?
Each of us began to enter into the debris, searching for anything that suggested life existed here. Joe went off to my right and Mike was further away to my left. I was center and in command of this recognizance mission. I heard my superior ask for a report. I tapped my microphone to respond and simply could not find the words. I needed to find the right metaphors for what simply could not be described in ordinary words. There was nothing ordinary here. "Sir. This is Andrew Suskin reporting, Sir. I am standing approximately a mile within the city limits as I recall them. It's difficult to explain what I am seeing here, Sir."
"Can you see if any of the buildings are still standing?" "No, Sir, nothing remains here. I am looking at a bone yard of bricks and mortar and not one person is recognizable, burned, Sir. Burned beyond... I'm sorry, Sir, I cannot find the words. Death is everywhere and our equipment is screaming at us. The radiation must be incredibly strong here. Do not enter zone three, Sir. I repeat, Do Not Enter Zone Three! I am calling my men back and we will report to base and decontamination. I pray the radiation has not reached us inside of our suits. I have never seen readings like this.
I looked down at my arm. It was shaking nervously and the suit was black with soot and possibly something else. It seemed to be spreading up my arm, as if it had a mind of its own, as if it were alive. "Joe, Mike, return to point. We are getting the hell out of here." I could feel something on my right leg moving. It felt a bit like water but it was running up my leg at a steady pace.
