Starlight Childrens Foundation - Warhead: the true story of one teen who almost saved the world

One day in the spring of 1981, as I twiddled my thumbs under my desk in Mrs. Hawkinss fourth-grade class while she droned on about adding and subtracting fractions, there was a familiar knocktap tada tap tapon our classroom door. She went over to answer it, and framed in the background sunlight was my mom. Id begged Mom that morningthat whole week, in factto take me out to the Mojave Desert to watch the space shuttle Columbia return from its maiden voyage, but she said Dad would be stuck in the office and the trip would cost my brother and me two days of school, so wed just have to watch it on the news. All morning in class, Id been sulking.

But there was my mom, chatting with Mrs. Hawkins, who turned my way and motioned to me to come over. I stuck my tongue out at Jake McCoy, whod been teasing me all morning about how my plan to see the shuttle land had failed, and I smiled at Chelsea Ashworth, whod been consoling me, and then I practically skipped to the door. It was the happiest moment in my ten-year-long life so far, because I knew Id soon be witnessing a miracle.

Mom had the family camper waiting for my brother and me in the school parking lot. Ted, chubby then and two years older than me, claimed the window seat. I didnt complain. Mom wasnt in the best mood, muttering something as she pulled out about how Dad was always working, and I didnt want to push it. I wanted him to be with us, but not if he was all stressed out over a case he was working on. Mom was still talking to herself when we reached the turnoff for Highway 14, the road that would get us to Edwards Air Force Base. Im just not going to let you boys miss history being made, she said, shaking her head.

We woke up early the next morning, in the camper, parked on the desert floor. She poured us each a cup of orange juice and set a variety pack of cereals on the pullout dining table. Are you excited? she said, looking closely at us.

Ted nodded, eyes wide, as he downed his OJ.

Heck yeah, I said.

Moms face broke into a smile.

Good, she said. Very good.

After breakfast, we stepped out of the camper onto the dry lake bed. Below us were fire ants, emerging from cracks and disappearing into others, and around us, in every direction, were cars and trucks and motor homesand people standing or scurrying between them. It was good we didnt need to be anywhere in particular for the landingjust out there on the desert floor with everyone elsebecause we couldnt have moved fifty feet if wed wanted to. It was like the whole world was out there waiting with us.

A little after ten oclock in the morning, twin booms went off as the shuttle pierced the atmosphere. An announcer had already told us it would take a while before we could actually see the shuttle, but still everyone had their necks craned. I scanned the sky the way the famous fighter pilot Chuck Yeager had done when he was going after German fighter planes in World War II. I was the first person in our area to see the space shuttle, and I screamed. Everyone around me was asking, Where, where is it? and I just extended a finger. It was a full ten seconds before my brother picked it upand he had Dads binoculars.

That was all it took for me. I knew what I wanted, what I would become. From that moment on, I was certain that one day Id be getting on top of a rocket myself.

Not long after the space shuttle landing, I ordered an Alpha III model rocket launch kit from Estes. It arrived during the school week, and Mom handed it to me the moment I got home. She stood there smiling as my eyes lit up, her hands on her waist and her chin held high.

In no time at all, Id put the rocket together. I couldnt wait to show it to Dad. Mom told me hed be home late that evening, but I begged her to let me stay up. I sat there by the front door, in my pajamas with my teeth brushed, until his car pulled in at 9:29 p.m., nearly half an hour after my bedtime. The second he walked through the door, I presented my rocket to him, proudly. I built it all by myself, Dad, I said, sticking out my chest. We can slide an engine into the tube here and set it up on the launchpad, and then the two of us can fire it off!

He set his briefcase down and held his hand out for the rocket, which I eagerly handed over. He ran his fingers over the white nose cone; down the long, checkered cardboard tube; and finally to the black plastic fins. He gently tugged at the metal hook coming out of the base of the rocket, the piece that held one of the insertable rocket engines in place.

Isnt it the greatest, Dad?

He nodded but didnt say anything. I thought hed be impressed. He handed the rocket back to me. I repeated myself, this time scratching my head. Its great, right?

It is well constructed. Dad cleared his throat. I think its important, though, that we contemplate why human beings created rockets. Why do you think they exist?

I frowned. To launch people into space. I thought it was kind of obvious.

That is a much more recent application. The original purpose of rockets, and the central one of modern missiles, which are essentially rockets with built-in guidance systems, is to wreak havoc on ones perceived enemy, to cause death and destruction. Armed with nuclear warheads, missiles have the very real potential to bring an end to humanity.

His eyes focused on mine as he waited for me to grasp the gravity of his observation. Since I was a ten-year-old, it went mostly over my head.

I tried to change the subject. Hed definitely be impressed when he saw my rocket take off. This is just a model, Dad, I said. It can fly for real, though. Would you like to launch it from the back deck with me this weekend?

He looked instantly irritated. It may be a model, but launching it in an environment such as ours would be perilous.

I protested. People launch them all the time.

Dad snorted. If they in fact do, theyre foolish. Rocket engines produce significant amounts of heat, he said. His voice had sharpened. You may have noted that here in Southern California our hills are covered with dry brush.

Our backyard isnt. You and Mom planted lots of trees and plants and stuff.