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While Kennedy seemed to be weighing all the arguments, his mind was made up: the U.S. would almost certainly have to test in the air. The clincher came from old Testing Foe Hans Bethe, whose detailed study showred that the Soviet blasts had been badly underrated. That 58-megaton bomb, Bethe reported, actually was a 100-megaton giant tamped down by a casing of lead. The U.S.S.R. could hang this on its biggest operational missile and hurl the full 100 megatons across 3,500 miles to the U.S. The Russians had made great gains in putting a bigger punch into a smaller package (weight-yield ratio), thus could increase either the range or power of existing weapons systems. They had approached perfection in a clean bomb. (In some of their blasts, the fission trigger—which is the main source of a bomb's radioactivity—formed only 2% of the explosive yield.) They were able to fire warheads that survived the punishment of re-entry into the atmosphere, something the U.S. had not even tried. Most significant, their high-altitude tests indicated work on an anti-missile missile. The main reason that Kennedy did not order immediate U.S. atmospheric tests was that the scientists were not ready for a meaningful series.
Tools of the Trade. The presidential green light sent the testing pros at Livermore and Los Alamos into an explosive burst of activity. A thorough series takes up to 18 months to prepare; they were given five months. Each lab sent its suggestions on what to test to Washington for top decision by AEC Chairman Seaborg. Military experts fired off plans to Defense Secretary Robert McNamara. Actual programming was done by AEC's atom-wise general manager, Major General Alvin Luedecke, 51, and Defense's brilliant, abrasive research chief, Harold Brown, 34. At McCone's suggestion, Kennedy tapped Starbird for overall field boss; Starbird in turn selected Ogle to run the scientific end of the show. Since Eniwyetok and Bikini were uncomfortably close to sizable Asiatic populations and technically under the control of the test-skittish United Nations, Kennedy persuaded Prime Minister Macmillan to let the U.S. test at Britain's equatorial Christmas Island, 1,200 miles south of Hawaii.
Soon Starbird was organizing his task force behind the Lincoln Memorial in a decaying frame building recently vacated by the CIA. Amid cartons and bare walls, he summoned all the old test veterans he could find. As his force grew, so did the costs: up to $1,000,000 a day. Involved are some 1,700 airmen, 6,600 sailors, 600 soldiers, 100 marines, 1,000 civilian technicians, 1,800 civilian construction workers. Starbird's air armada includes highflying U-2s, workhorse C-130s, B-57s and
B-52s, versatile Neptune antisubmarine patrol craft.
For Ogle, getting ready for Dominic meant a frantic air chase between Hawaii, Omaha, Nevada, Washington and Denver —an average of some 1,000 miles a day.