Twenty Minutes is a Long Time - by Stuart Leitch
It was about two weeks after we came down here that I really began to loathe the job. I discovered that being the Chief Officer in charge of a nuclear bunker and all its inhabitants was a difficult job. And I originally expected it to be tough. Of course I was trained for all the theory of it. The army were very thorough about that. I know every air duct every corridor and every room inside-out. It was the practicalities, the seemingly insignificant details that really caught me out.
The smell for example. At about that time the air began to really smell, and it has since got worse. I can almost taste it now. It is a sweaty smell, like a school PE changing room but in here we have to live with it. We have to work with it, we go to sleep with it and it wakes us up in the morning.
The other thing I was not prepared for was peoples’ attitude towards me. I think I could have taken a rebellion in my stride but that was not the problem. Again it was the details. As an army officer I was used to commanding respect from my subordinates but civilians did not have that respect. It was not even deliberate, they were just not used to the discipline and structure of the army but we had to run the bunker like the military. It was the only way to keep the 1000 or so people in check in the circumstances.
Many of the civilians seemed to think that the war was my fault just because I was in the army. "You invaded China" was the sort of remark I got. I personally did not invade anyone. I was not even in China at the time. I was here being trained for the very real threat of nuclear war.
I don’t think that anyone really believed that they would drop the bomb and that all the training was just a precaution – little more than a waste of time. Actually I think the truth is that we tried not to believe that it would happen. Looking back it seems that nuclear war was inevitable – the governments knew it would happen sooner or later.
To be honest we were all finding conditions difficult. My family took it very badly. I remember my seven year old daughter Lisa always asking why we had to come down here. I wanted to tell her the truth but in a comforting way. I remember my parents doing that and as I got older I think I respected them more for being truthful. I just couldn’t find any comfort in the situation. I tried dodge the subject by saying that things would get better in a month or two but as the days passed that became less and less likely.
When I tuned into the army frequency to hear of the latest developments the news just got worse every day. Last week I heard that one bunker was suffering from a flu epidemic. There was serious talk that dozens, maybe hundreds could die. Viruses are very difficult to contain inside nuclear bunkers because people are so close and because the air is continually pumped around. That news really scared me. I’ve had flu before. At the time it meant a headache and a few days in bed. Hearing it become a serious life or death situation made me realise how bad the situation was. I remember thinking that even being out on the front line would be better than being here.
In the days that followed the news got worse. We started getting death counts from flu. It started off at just a few and I felt some optimism. But the death toll just kept rising until only five days later they were all dead. And then finally, at around noon today, they did what I feared the most. They ordered a ‘Code C’.
During the planning of the evacuation to the bunkers many millions had to be left outside to die. There was just not the space in the bunkers to house everyone. In an attempt to save as many lives as possible they squeezed people into the bunkers, stretching them beyond capacity. They were aware that the overcrowding was potentially dangerous which is why they had the Code C failsafe.
A central computer generated a list of random names of inhabitants in each bunker and it was the responsibility of the most senior officer to kill the people on the list. Only the most senior officers were to know of the plan. No one else was even briefed on Code C meaning that I had sole responsibility for killing the 250 or so unlucky ones in our bunker.
Of course to keep morale up we were not to tell the civilians what had happened. They sent a cover story with the list. When I read it I was disgusted. An injection was to be used to kill people. We were to tell them that it was a flu vaccine. In fact it contained an actual virus with symptoms similar to flu but it was not contagious. It would kill in around three days.
When I first heard of Code C I had my doubts about whether I could do it but I never expected it to actually happen so I didn’t worry about it too much. After having looked at the list however I knew that I could not go ahead with it. My daughter Lisa was on the list. I knew that there was no way that I could kill Lisa. I also knew that I could be shot for not following orders but that was a risk I was more than willing to take. Killing Lisa was just completely out of the question.
I had to radio the area Commander to tell him that I would not obey the Code C. I was very aware as I spoke to him that I could be speaking the words that end my life.
The relief I felt when he told me that I didn’t have to kill Lisa! Apparently the computer was programmed not to pick members of the Chief Officer’s family to avoid such a problem. There was a bug in the system. I was told to remove Lisa from the list and replace her with someone else (they were very strict about keeping to the ‘quota’ exactly). The next randomly chosen name was Paula Jennings of F section. To be honest it didn’t make me feel much better. I still had to carry out Code C. Why not use straight language. I had to murder 250 people. 250 people that now include this Jennings woman in F section who would have lived if was not for my influence. With the other people I felt detached from the reality of it. I would just be obeying orders. But I felt personally responsible for Paula Jennings.
Some morbid curiosity made me look up the personal files of Miss Jennings on the computer. I discovered that she is 22 years old and got married about 6 months ago. That’s just not fair. Why did the computer choose her? She seems to me to be the person who has most reason to live at the moment. I considered taking her name off and choosing someone else but realised that that would not help matters. There is no one here who deserves to die. What’s more I couldn’t choose to someone to kill just on the basis of some statistics on a computer monitor.
The random list was supposed to eliminate this sort of dilemma. I’d probably have felt better if I had mechanically followed orders rather than got involved.
I have spent the last hour or so looking through the personal files of some of the names on the list. I only meant to look at a few to get a broad picture of the sort of people on it but I got sort of addicted. I couldn’t help wanting to know about the full impact of what I was doing. I saw a few more young newly-weds, many parents and far too many children. I saw two personal friends. I came to the decision that there is just no way that I can kill 250 of these people.
That is what made me decide to take a concentrated dose of the flu injection. I think I will be dead in about twenty minutes. And the worst thing is that it probably hasn’t helped matters. Whoever takes my position as Chief Officer will be given the same instructions as me and will probably carry them out. At least I don’t have the responsibility. Twenty minutes from now I won’t have to deal with it. I have made sure that Lisa is not on the list but other than that I have left it alone. Paula Jennings is not on it. If she is lucky there will be an oversight and one life will be saved. I’m not counting on it though.
I am hoping that my suicide will be an example to others on the desperation and heartlessness of war but again, I’m not counting on it. My suicide is most likely to be swept under the carpet to keep morale up. They’ll probably say I died of flu.
Christ, twenty minutes is a long time.
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