We Can Kiss Our Asses Goodbye

On the periphery of possible outcomes created by Putin's invasion of Ukraine; call it the last and worst case scenario of how it might all end, would be a nuclear war between the USA and Russia. If Humanity survived at all, any event like that would create a total reset of our planet's day to day struggles for the populations left standing. The survivors would have a serious hole to crawl out of.

This debate of the worst case scenario has dredged up memories for me when I was a kid living in Tampa, Florida in the Fall of 1962. Most adults my age living in the USA at that time should have a memory of the crazy events that played out back then.

Communist Cuba's existence was a focal point for Cold War shenanigans between the Communists of the USSR(Russia) and the freedom loving , flag waving ,Leave it to Beaver loving United States. Our blood ran red. Our politics did not. The Russian Bear was the world's biggest bogeyman and we kids were well ingrained with the horrors we would suffer should the Reds invade the land of Mom, Apple Pie, and Chevrolet. I assume the Reds had also filled their children's minds with the same kind of garbage. We were taught to hate each other. And sadly it appears we still do.

Regardless, at that time of mutual sword rattling and one upmanship, the Russians thought installing nuke rockets in Cuba would be a helluva deterrent to any chicanery the US might want to inflict on Mother Russia.It seemed their leader, Nikita Khrushchev, did not think much of John Kennedy, our president at the time. He considered President Kennedy weak and stupid, no doubt partly based on JFK's mis-handling of the Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba in April of 1961, a year  earlier.

So in October of 1962, Russian tankers were caught sailing for Cuba. They were loaded with nuke missiles and all the mechanical and human support they needed to be operational shortly after landing. It was supposed be a clandestine operation, but the US caught wind of it while the tankers were still en-route.

Having nukes aimed at the USA from only 90 miles away was an untenable and scary situation. President Kennedy jumped all over it, sending planes, boats, and irate messages to warn the Rooskies to back down. Khrushchev did not blink at first, but then under increasingly more lethal threats and movements of nukes by the USA, he ended up re-calling the flotilla of Nuke bomb boats and the planet dodged a very serious moment where Humanity's survival was at stake.

I was in fourth grade at the time. I attended Dale Mabry Elementary School in Tampa, Florida. My home was located just down the road from a SAC base named MacDill Air Base. It was home to many Strategic Nuclear bombers we had back then.They were used as deterrent to any nuclear threat the Russians might choose to fling at us. Any SAC base would be on the number one target list for first strike Russian nukes. They were in the air 24/7 waiting for the go ahead to bomb the Hell out of Russia.

The whole of Florida was probably more anxious and scared than most of America, what with the Russian Nukes only 90 miles from Miami and a major SAC base in Tampa.

The Federal government tried their best to come up with ways to ease the nation's anxiety levels. Of the ones I remember the most were the air raid drills we practiced in school.

Once the siren went off, we were to crawl under our desks and stay there until the "All Clear" siren sounded. Then lining up next to the door of the classroom, we would file dutifully and without panic to congregate with the rest of the school in the Gym/All purpose room and wait (again dutifully and without panic), uh, wait patiently until an adult told us what was next.

I remember that the fuzzy thinking they used once we were in the Gym bothered me. Maybe that was one of my earlier warnings that Adults really don't have their shit together all the time and I would be wise to be suspicious of them.

After the first air raid indoctrination, I went home and proceeded with the rest of my day. I probably did not think about the air raid drill until dinner time that night. It had to be TV Tray night because Mom, Dad, and myself were watching TV while we ate. I loved TV Tray night.

The news cycles that Fall were all about relations with Russia and Cuba. A news piece came on regarding the nation wide effort to prepare Americans for a possible Nuclear confrontation with Russia. Rather than play it down, they used rhetoric and images that were meant to wake America up to the possible reality we might all be dead meat soon. One segment showed a classroom of kids practicing an air raid drill.

That's when I spoke up. "We did that today."

I remember my father looking at me with what I remember now as a nonplussed look. Not often was he caught off guard like he looked at that moment. As it turned out, he was deciding whether to respond truthfully or parrot the government line. He chose the former.

Still looking at me, he said something to the effect, " If we get into a shooting war with Russia, hiding under your desk will be useless, especially because we are in a first priority target area and Ground Zero is only 5 miles away. We won't have time to get under our desks or even have time to kiss our asses goodbye. "

That night was the first night of the "I was afraid to die" period I went through for several months. My father scared me silly with his statement combined with the look on his face. I knew he knew what he was talking about. He was a recently retired general of that Air Force that would be tasked with deterring the Russians.

The next day I raised my hand and basically told the teacher and the class what my father had said. That created my first of many future visits to the principal's office I would experience at Dale Mabry School. I was sent home with a note asking to set up a meet with both my parents. Boy, didn't that piss my ole man off, especially after he knew he was being called on the carpet for telling his son the truth. I was scared witless, because I had never been to the principal's office before and the notion of entering it again with both parents in tow just sounded like the kind of Hell no child would ever want to go through.

At the meeting, before the principal could open her mouth, my father asked that I be excused to go back to class as this issue was now between he and the principal. The principal relented and I was sent back to class. All the way back, I was so happy to dodge that bullet.

It was not until that night at dinner did I get an inkling of how it went with my parents and the principal. Mom started to talk about it. My father held up his shush finger. My mom, as was her in his face style, continued anyway. " You sure shut that principal up in short order Bob."

"I straightened her out on the facts is all I did."

"Well, she had a point about creating panic, didn't she?"

My dad sighed. "Hiding the truth helps no one, least of all, anyone within a 50 mile radius of MacDill. .... And that makes me think of all the above ground bomb shelters our neighbors are building. They'll be dust..... and even if they survive the blast, their lives are over from the radiation."

It was Christmas before I began to not be afraid of dying. The funny thing is, I have never again been afraid of dying without being in a moment  that was life threatening. Thankfully, my close calls have been few.

When I was maybe ten years older and that period was brought up in family conversation, I asked my father why we did not move. He looked at me a moment and then asked, "And move where?" 

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

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My musical selection was more difficult to make than it should have been. I had the music before I wrote a word. But then I thought I could find  more appropriate tune other than "Eve of Destruction", by Barry McGuire. But it didn't. I finally decided the tune that really nails the insanity and evil of this latest conflict is an oldie from back in the day - "War" by Edwin Starr.