Atomic Testing

by Alan Tucker

  Dave and I set some traps before tea. He’ll get up early and check them. I don’t want to use Rusty any more in case he really does get lost underground. Dave’s happy about that.

  Before I go to sleep I have to draw another rocket. It’s not for school work. Jonathon, one of the English boys in my class, saw the one I drew for Robert and paid me sixpence to draw one for him this weekend. I’ll be rich soon if more people want to buy drawings.

  Thursday, 18 June

  The test cricket ended in a draw but we’ll win the series. Australia has beaten England every series since 1933. The next test match starts at Lord’s in a couple of weeks. It’s the test both sides really want to win because Lord’s is the home of cricket. The English boys say they’ll beat us because the Queen will be there to cheer on their side.

  Robert pointed out that she’s Australia’s queen too so she’ll have to barrack for both sides. They didn’t know that. They haven’t been here very long and thought we had our own queen. They’re in Australia because their fathers are scientists working on rocket and bomb experiments. They all seem to talk like the Queen. Dad describes that way of speaking as ‘having a plum in your mouth’. When I told Dave that he put a gobstopper in his mouth and spoke in his impression of a Pommy voice. It was very funny, especially when he started dribbling.

  Jonathon promised to bring me photos of real rockets so I can copy them.

  Saturday, 20 June

  Jonathon brought two photos to school yesterday. They’re of a Seaslug rocket. What a strange name! Garden slugs are slow but I bet this ‘slug’ isn’t.

  It doesn’t look like what I imagined. I thought all rockets had a pointy end so they could travel fast. This one has one tiny pointy bit surrounded by four flat-headed parts. Jonathon said they’re called boosters. Boosters are what power the rocket. The Seaslug is designed to be fired from British Navy ships, which is why the boosters are so far forward.

  I thought it was funny that the Navy would test a rocket in the desert. How can that be a true test? The ocean’s not flat and still, like the desert. It’s all wavy.

  He told me not to show the photos to anyone. His dad doesn’t know he took them off his desk. I’m surprised Jonathon’s father was allowed to take photos. We had our camera confiscated when we arrived in Woomera. We can collect it at the perimeter gate when we leave the village. I don’t know why we’re not allowed to take photos. There’s nothing here except normal houses and Army stuff.

  Jonathon explained his father needs the photos to study the take-off and trajectory of the rockets he’s working on. He told us Woomera is a special place because rocket research only happens in a few places around the world. Scientists like his father are in a race to make the biggest and fastest rockets so Britain’s military can use them to attack our enemies in the next war.

  ‘Every civilised country employs spies to steal military secrets. Rockets are a very new and powerful weapon, so spies offer large amounts of cash to anyone who will sell them their country’s latest rockets plans or test photos.

  ‘The Australian and British governments have spies undercover in Russia, and the Ruskis have spies here. Father says you can’t trust anyone, not even your workmates. Scientists don’t earn a great deal of money, so the offer of thousands of dollars to sell information does tempt some people.’

  After I heard that I realised why security’s tighter here and why the security guards must be on the lookout for spies. Jonathon says they aren’t only on duty when they’re in uniform and checking people’s passes: they’re also on duty when they’re in their civvies and socialising around the village. ‘They are expected to remain alert for anyone or anything suspicious. Even women and children are under suspicion.’

  What a terrible job: having to suspect everyone all the time. How could you have any real friends?

  7.00 pm

  I worked on some drawings this morning and played with the boys this arvo. Dave’s dad is off the base at the moment so Dave borrowed his slug gun. That’s a secret too. I guess this is the weekend for secrets.

  Dave sneaked the gun out of town last night. He wrapped it in a jumper and buried it out near the big rabbit warren. I wonder if a spy or security guard saw him.

  I thought we might not be able to find it, but we did because Dave used one of Kenny’s tricks and put a stake in the ground next to it. Perhaps Kenny did tell him some survival tricks. Instead of nailing a piece of tin can to it, he just put the whole can upside down over the stake.

  We used the stake and the can for target practice. I’d never fired a gun before. It was great fun. I was quite good. Dave was the best. His dad taught him to shoot when he was ‘knee high to a grasshopper’.

  Robert wasn’t very good. He didn’t hit the can once. I hit it five out of ten. Dave got eight hits. He claimed his other two shots hit it too but we didn’t hear it because the slugs went exactly through some of the holes made by his other slugs!

  I wonder if there’s any connection between the slugs we fired and the name of the Seaslug rocket?

  At the end of our shooting Dave wrapped and buried the gun again. Then we set some traps and walked home. He’ll collect the gun at the crack of dawn tomorrow when he checks the traps. Robert thought it would be funny if a rabbit hopped on the gun and shot itself.

  Monday, 22 June

  Jonathon loved the drawing. I had to hide the photos and the drawing in my bag and give them to him after school. He’ll sneak them inside his house in his bag. He told me he’s going to sticky-tape the picture on his window and say he drew it. He’s not allowed to tape things onto his walls. He said his mother’s very strict. I told him mine is too. His sounds worse though. She won’t let him make any mess, even if he promises to clean it up immediately. My mum’s not that bad. She’s not bossy about mess. She likes me to do creative things in my bedroom, because when I was sick in bed I couldn’t play outside. That’s why I did so much drawing and got so good at it.

  Jonathon’s going to ask his mother if he can come over to my house and do his homework. I wonder what Mum will think of him. He looks kind of weird. His trousers are always ironed with a pointy crease up the front and his hair is never messy. He always looks neat and tidy, as if every day was class photo day.

  Tuesday, 23 June

  Jonathon was allowed to visit after school. His mother drove him over. They’ve got a car. They must be rich. My mother can’t drive. I guess it’s hard for her to learn when we don’t own a car. Dad could drive before the war—that’s why he enlisted as a transport driver. I don’t know where he learned. His family’s never owned a car either. Dad’s just a natural at things like that.

  Jonathon was very polite to Mum. As soon as he arrived he introduced himself and told her exactly what time he’d be leaving. He said his mother didn’t want him to impose on us for too long. Mum asked him his impressions of Woomera. He considered before answering, ‘Desolate.’ Mum laughed and said she agreed, then asked what he thought of Australians.

  ‘Their informality shocked me at first. I thought they were slovenly and ill-mannered, but Mother explained I must not compare discipline on the Woomera Rocket Range with British military standards or even with boarding school.’

  Mum laughed again. ‘If you think this is casual you should live in Townsville.’ Jonathon had never of heard of Townsville, but he did know of Queensland.

  We sat in my room. The main reason his mother let him visit was because he said he needed my help with his art homework. He still hasn’t stuck my drawing up. He knew his parents wouldn’t believe he drew it unless he can show them some other good drawings too.

  I taught him some drawing tricks, like how to smudge and scribble to make shadows. We talked about rockets and he explained about trajectory. Rocket scientists need to know about that so they can plan for their rockets to go up into the air and come down exactly on a target. He told me his father is working day and night at the moment planning the next Seaslug launch and analysing the d
ata collected during the last launch.

  He saw my collection of Superman drawings and thought they were ‘marvellous’. He talks in such an English way. It sounds funny. I showed him my very first Superman drawings. Mum kept them. She’s proud of them, but I’m not. I think they’re really bad. Jonathon thought they were ‘rather childish’ too, but he loved my latest ones.

  I loaned him one of my Superman comics so he can practise drawing. He said he’ll have to hide the comic. His parents don’t approve of him reading ‘rubbish’. I’m glad they’re not my parents.

  His school sounded as strict as his parents. He was educated at a ‘very fine public school’, which he explained is what we in Australia call a private school. He’s been a boarder since he was six. His father and grandfather went to school there too.

  ‘I missed Mother and Father initially, but I grew accustomed to their absence. I was happy for them to leave me behind in England last December, but father thought a stint in the colonies would help broaden my education. Mother was less rational: she believed she’d pine for me if I was too far away.’

  He explained his school taught art in a very precise way. They never did anything creative. Instead they designed perspective drawings or copied paintings by the old masters.

  He said his mother’s rather disappointed with the education he’s receiving here and has booked him into a boarding school in Adelaide next year.

  I wouldn’t like to be sent away to school. I missed Dad when he left Townsville ahead of us to transfer here. I’d miss Mum even more if we were separated because I’ve hardly been out of her sight since the day I was born.

  I’m glad I’m not Jonathon. He speaks and acts like an adult and doesn’t know how to be a kid and have fun.

  Mum loved Jonathon. She said he was a gentleman and wished my manners were half as good. Dad said there’s nothing wrong with my manners.

  ‘I didn’t say Anthony had bad manners. I was just suggesting there’s room for improvement. Anthony’s much better mannered than the lad next door.’

  She’s never really liked Dave. He and Jonathon are so different. Dave loves being outdoors. Jonathon’s a bookworm. He’s all right to hang around with a little bit, but Dave’s my best friend.

  Wednesday, 24 June

  Mum’s really worried. The British Government’s going to test atomic bombs on the Woomera Rocket Range. The Prime Minister said so. It’s in the paper. There’ll be a series of tests. Mum said that if she’d known they were going to test atomic bombs here, she’d never have come.

  ‘You should have warned us, Frank.’

  Dad got cross. ‘Beryl, I’m not in charge of this place. I don’t make decisions. They don’t tell me anything unless it’s in the form of an order, and then I do what I’m commanded to do. Do you really think they’d have told me they were planning atomic bomb tests? And besides, they’ll test them miles from here. We’re perfectly safe.’

  ‘How would you know? You know nothing, Frank. If you read newspapers or listened to the wireless maybe you’d be better informed. But no, you let the Army tell you what to believe.’

  I got a shock to hear Mum being so rude. Something must be bugging her.

  Dad stormed off to work and I left for school at the same time even though it was early. I didn’t say goodbye to Mum. She was putting the washing through the wringer and looked angry.

  What’s she worried about? It’s only a bomb.

  Robert said an atomic bomb blast is really spectacular. The bomb cloud goes up into the sky in a big mushroom shape. I hope they explode it close to here. I can’t wait to see it. I wonder if they’ll give us a day off school to watch. The British have tested two other atomic bombs, but they were on an island somewhere off the Western Australian coast. These tests will be on the first on the mainland.

  How lucky are we to have them right here? I’d never heard of Woomera before we shifted but everyone in Australia will have heard of it after today’s announcement. We’re famous. If there weren’t spies here before, there soon will be.

  Robert also told me Australian scientists are testing a little jet plane that doesn’t need a pilot. It’s remote controlled. He didn’t know if it was designed to carry bombs or spy cameras. How could you take a still photo from a moving jet plane? It’d be all blurry. Superman has super vision, that’s why he can fly high and still see everything.

  I read the newspaper to get the cricket scores. The Lord’s test started last night. Australia won the toss and Lindsay Hassett got another hundred. That’s two in two games. No wonder he’s captain.

  Saturday, 27 June

  Mum made me do homework this morning before I was allowed to play. I have problems with maths. When Jonathon explained trajectory he said it’s simple mathematics. It didn’t sound simple to me. That’s why I’ll be a better rocket pilot than scientist. I’ll be like Dad when he drives and just follow orders. Someone else can navigate.

  When Mum wasn’t watching I did some work on another rocket drawing. Not because someone is paying me. I just drew it for fun. I’ve still got one of Jonathon’s photos of the Seaslug. The rocket’s not flying, of course. You can’t photograph a rocket when it’s flying. It’s too fast. This one’s on a launcher. There are some men standing near it so you can see it’s not very big.

  I got into big trouble with Mum for drawing instead of doing my maths. What happened was I started daydreaming while I was drawing and didn’t hear her come into the kitchen. I won’t do that again.

  After that she stayed in the kitchen to keep an eye on me until the homework was finished and correct. She found three errors and made me do the sums again until I got them right.

  I was daydreaming about Superman, of course. He’s like the rockets and planes the scientists are testing, but he’s better. He can fly into space and spy on things in other places, plus he has super powers that allow him to see through walls and roofs using his X-ray vision.

  And he can read minds. I don’t think scientists will ever be able to invent something that does that. Superman can also use his vision like a laser gun. If he concentrates he can burn holes in metal just by staring really hard at it. That’s handy when he has to open a safe or burn handcuffs off someone the baddies have kidnapped. I bet the Army would like to invent a machine that does that so they could melt the enemy’s guns.

  I bet they’d like a spy as unbeatable as Superman.

  I wonder if scientists ever daydream. I wonder where they get their ideas for inventions. At school we get told off for daydreaming, but sometimes I get my best ideas when I do. I get good ideas when I night-dream too. In the morning, though, I know I had a brilliant idea but I can never remember what it was. Sometimes, if I wake up as soon as a dream ends, I write it into my diary. Then I remember what it was about. Night dreams are usually weird or scary. Daydreams are more real. Well, mine are anyway.

  Sunday, 28 June

  Dad and I sat up late again last night listening to the cricket. Both teams made about the same number of runs on the first innings. Their captain made a hundred just like our captain. At stumps we’re in front. They got Hassett out, but Morris and Miller are smashing them around.

  I like listening to the cricket with Dad. He doesn’t talk much. I sort of half sleep when I listen and try to imagine the batsmen, bowlers, fielders and the cricket ground. I’ve seen pictures of Lord’s so it’s easy to imagine it. Jonathon’s been there. His dad’s a member. He wasn’t allowed into the members’ bar but his father told him they’ve got the Ashes in there. That’s the trophy Australia and England play for. Even though we’ve won it for the past twenty years, we’re not allowed to bring it back to Australia. Robert says that’s not fair. He says England’s hogging the trophy because they’re bad losers.

  Jonathon said it has nothing to do with that. It’s simply a tradition and traditions must be respected. Boy! Sometimes he really does sound like a member of the royal family.

  Dave, Robert and I mucked around all afternoon. Dave
wanted to build a billycart. He found some old wheels. Guess where? Under his tank stand. Dad reckons Dave’s dad’s a junk collector. He can’t believe he’s collected so much rubbish after living in their house for such a short time. Dave wanted to ask Mum if we could cut up our packing boxes for the billycart, but I wouldn’t let him.

  ‘She’ll say no because she’ll worry I’ll prang.’

  I didn’t tell him she’d mentioned re-using the boxes recently when she asked Dad how long we have to live here. I don’t want to shift. My friends are here.

  Dave said it didn’t matter about the timber, because he knows where there are off-cuts we can use. We crawled under his house and ours and dragged out several pieces that we nailed together to make the frame and seat. When we were finished it was crooked, but quite strong.

  We couldn’t finish the whole cart because we haven’t got a front axle and we’ve only got three good wheels. The fourth one has a big crack in the metal. If I was Superman I’d weld it using my super vision. Why can’t we all have super powers? Then we could do everything.

  Dave wanted to make the billycart with one wheel at the front and two at the back but Robert said that wouldn’t work. As soon as you turned a corner, you’d tip over. He told Dave to wait until we got a fourth wheel.

  When we finished we went out to where Dave had hidden the slug gun. We loaded it and took pot shots at some tin can targets, TING TING. Dave soon got bored with that though, and suggested we try and shoot some moving targets—birds.

  To find birds we had to go a bit closer to town where there are a few trees. We saw some crows and watched where they landed. Some perched on the power lines. Dave wanted to shoot them there, but Robert and I told him not to. It was too close to houses.

  When we saw a flock of galahs land around the water tanks Dave said he was going to get one. It seemed to be safe because we were firing away from the village and anyway, galahs are a nuisance. They eat the branches off the young trees around the streets.