Where nuclear holocaust is concerned, this ain’t my first rodeo, though at 6-years-old during the Cuban Missile Crisis, I didn’t understand until much later just how closely I’d come to being vaporized.
I do remember the drills, and if you’re of a certain age, I’m sure you do, too.
Mrs. Moreland marched the first-graders out into the long hallway at Muriel Vance Forbes Elementary School in San Antonio, Texas, a city with four Air Force bases and an Army post that surely made inviting targets. Classroom doors opened to the left and right as all the children in the entire school filed out into the hall, sat down and pressed small backs against walls tiled in bright yellows and greens. Teachers walked among us, telling us to be still and keep quiet.
Routine fire drills were nothing like this. In those, we’d escape mock flames to an assembly point outside…
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