Chapter 80 Chapter 79

Through the closed bedroom door it sounded like weeping, but Rhoda seldom cried, so Victor.Henry shrugged and walked forward to the guest room, where he was now sleeping.It's getting late.After dinner he sat in his study for a few hours, drafting some landing craft papers for his meeting with Colonel Peters.It was something he didn't really want to do, but a conflict of priorities forced him to.He undressed, took a shower, downed his nightcap of bourbon and water, and stopped by the door of Rhoda's room to listen before going to bed.The sound had become very clear: a sad whimper, with a crackling sob in between.

"Is it Rhoda?" no answer.The crying stopped, as if interrupted. "Ro! Hey, what's going on?" A suppressed sad voice came: "Well, I'm fine. You go to sleep." "Let me in." "The door's unlocked, Pug." The room was dark.He turned on the light.Rhoda sat up in a white satin pajamas, blinked twice, and wiped the red and swollen eye circles with a thin handkerchief. "Is my voice loud? I'm trying to keep it down." "What happened? "Pug, I'm done. It's all ruined. You've dropped me anyway."

"You might feel better with a glass of wine." - I must look terrible.Yeah? "She ran her hands through her tousled hair. "Do you want to go downstairs and talk in the study?" "You're such a nice fellow. Have some Scotch and soda. I'll be right there." She stretched her shapely, snow-white thighs out of bed.Pug went into the study and got the wine mixed on the portable liquor cabinet.Presently she came too, wearing a baggy casual dress over her pajamas, and her hair was pulled up in a pretty hairstyle he hadn't seen since he moved to the guest room.She made up a little bit, modified her eyes a little, and now they looked clear and bright.

"Hours ago, I washed my face and threw myself on the bed, but I just couldn't sleep." "Why? Because I had to meet Colonel Peters? It was just a business meeting, Rhoda. Didn't I tell you." He handed her the drink. "Perhaps, I shouldn't have brought it up, but I won't get you into any trouble." "Pug, I'm very distressed right now!" She took a swig of her wine. "Someone wrote several anonymous letters to Huck. He got them, five or six. He tore up the first few and showed me two. He apologized to me in frustration, but showed me anyway. Well. The letters annoyed him."

Rhoda glanced at her husband in one of her most tender and touching ways.He wanted to mention the few anonymous letters he had also received, but he thought it was pointless to do so.Pamela may have spoken to Rhoda.In short, there is no need to bring up those malicious words.He didn't say anything. She blurted out, "It's so unfair! I didn't even know Huck, did I? Speaking of your double standards! You hear him, he's slept with all kinds of women. Unmarried, married Divorced, he doesn't care, he even brings it up again, but the important thing is always how different I am. I am too, I am! Only Bamu. Abbie is the exception. I still don't understand How did it happen, why did it happen. He's been around a lot of low-spirited coquettes in his life, and I'm not that kind of woman. But these letters ruin everything. He looks so unhappy, so discouraged. I Denied everything, of course. I had to deny it for his sake. For a man who's been through so much, he's surprisingly naive."

What surprised Pug most was that her frank admission of adultery with such bluntness--"Only Bamu. Kirby was an exception"--could still cause him pain.It wasn't the same agony that the first blow—her letter asking for a divorce—had given him, but it was personal pain nonetheless.Rhoda had been evasive at first and only now admitted it explicitly.Her habit of reticence, which had served her so well, now had so much to do with Peters that the words escaped.This is the real end, thought Pug.He was as much a part of her past as Kirby, and she could be indifferent to him. "That man loves you, Rhoda. He'll take your word for it and forget about it."

"Would he? What would you say if he asked you tomorrow?" "It's unimaginable." "Not terribly unthinkable. This is the first time you've met since all this happened." "Rhoda, we have a pressing priority to resolve. He won't bring up personal matters. Certainly not about the anonymous letters. Not to me. His hairs stand on end just thinking about it. " She looked both amused and distressed. "You mean, a man's pride?" "Call it that. Forget about it. Go to sleep and have two sweet dreams." "Can I have another glass of wine?"

"of course can." - Can you tell me the whole story afterwards?I mean, you talked about something. " "Not the business part." "I'm not interested in that part of the business." "If anything personal comes up, I'll tell you, I will." He handed her the drink. "Can you guess who wrote those letters?" "Can't guess. A woman. A nasty bitch or something. Well, there's plenty of them, Pug, there's plenty of them. She wrote in green ink on a little russet letter, The handwriting is hilariously high and low. Her facts border on the absurd, but she mentions Bamu. Kirby. Vile. Mentions of dates, places, and so on. What a nuisance."

"Where is Kirby now?" "I don't know. The last time I saw him was in Chicago, right after--right after Midway, and I was coming back from California. I stayed there for a few hours and cut him off for good. It's funny, That's how I met Huck." While drinking, Rhoda described her first meeting with Colonel Peters in the lobby of the mineral springs, and how she met him again on the train to New York. "I have absolutely no way of knowing why he fell in love with me, Pug. I was cold to him that night in the rest car. Honestly, I put him off. I was doing it for Bam, and you, and I was bored by the whole embarrassment, and hadn't forgotten about Warren. I wouldn't accept his offer to drink or talk to him. I mean, he was so obviously just talking to the guy in green He still had that gleam in his eyes. I wasn't going to tell him what to think. Then, the next morning, in the dining car, the waiter offered him a seat at my table. There was a lot of people at breakfast, so I can't object, though I don't know, maybe he slipped something to the waiter. Anyway, that's how it was. He said Bamu told him about me; he Admire my bravery, that's the thing. I still keep a decent distance. I've always kept it. He's actually courted me decently all the time: to church, to Navy parties, and Fund-raisers for England and so on. It was something that developed gradually. It was months before I agreed to go to the theater with him. Perhaps that was what Huck was curious about, this The novelty inside. It couldn't have been my girlish allure. But when he thought back to our first meeting, I was going to see Bam Kirby after all. That made those damn letters seem pretty Convincing."

In all the months since Pug's return, Rhoda had never spoken so much about her affairs.At this time, she really became a bitch.Pug said, "You feel better now?" "It's much better. It's very kind of you to comfort me like that. I'm not a crybaby, Pug, you know that, but I'm too nervous about those feelings. When you tell me you're seeing him tomorrow, I'm panicked. I mean, Huck is unlikely to ask Bam. That would be rude. Bam wouldn't say it anyway. You're the only third person who knows about it. You're the victim Husband. Well, I have to think of all kinds of terrible possibilities." She finished her drink and slipped her bare feet into her pink slippers.

"Honestly, I don't know anything, Rhoda. I didn't know anything before tonight." She stiffened and stared at him, one slipper still in her hand, apparently flashing back the conversation she had just had. "Oh, nonsense." She slapped the slipper on the floor. "Of course you do. Come on, Pug. How can you not know? What's all this about?" Pug sat down at the desk where Warren's large leather-bound photo album remained, next to his stack of folders. "I'm refreshed now," he said, picking up a briefcase. "I'll do a little more work." U.S. Army Brigadier General Leslie, District Chief of the Manhattan Engineering District. R. Groves Deputy Chief Colonel Harrison.The sign on two adjoining doors on one floor of the Peters State Department Building was so inconspicuous that Pug walked past it and had to turn around again.Colonel Peters strode up from behind the desk to shake his hand. "Okay! It's time for us to meet again." Pug had long since forgotten how tall and handsome the man was.He was about six feet three inches tall, with piercing blue eyes, a long, ruddy face with high cheekbones, a straight figure in a well-cut military uniform, and a belly that didn't stick out at all.Although the hair is grizzled, the overall impression is: young, strong, and except for a hint of uncertainty in the cheerful smile, the overall appearance is dignified.At this time, he was undoubtedly a little embarrassed.Yet Pug felt little resentment toward the Army officer.The guy didn't tell him to wear a green turban, which is nice.Pug did believe it.He hadn't, mainly because Rhoda had played the big fool with just that. There was nothing on the little desk.The only other piece of furniture in the room was an armchair.There are no files, no windows, no bookcases, no secretaries, no pictures on the walls.One would think that it was an irrelevant job assigned to a mediocre colonel.Pug declined the coffee and sat down in the armchair. "Before we get down to business," said Peters, blushing a little, "let me say one thing first. I have a lot of respect for you. That's what Rhoda is, because after living with you for so many years, she One woman out of a million. I regret that we haven't talked about it yet. I know, we're both pretty busy, but someday we'll have to talk." "Of course it can." "Do you smoke cigars?" Peters pulled a box of long Havanas from a drawer on his desk. "Thanks." Pug didn't want to smoke a cigar, but the next one might lighten the mood a bit. Peters lighted his cigarette calmly. "I'm sorry it took me a while to get back to your question." "I guess Harry Hopkins' call helped." "That won't do much, if your Classified Material Access Permit doesn't qualify." "To make a long story short," said Pug, "when I was a naval attache in Berlin, I provided them with information on German industrial activities in graphite, heavy water, uranium, etc., at the request of the S-1 Committee. I knew that the Army was developing a A uranium bomb with three times the first priority of free movement. That's why I'm here. The landing craft program needs those connectors I mentioned on the phone." "How do you know we got these connectors?" Peters leaned back, folded his long arms and held his head.There was a more serious official tone in his voice. "You haven't got it yet. The connectors are still in warehouses in Pennsylvania. Dresser won't say anything, except they've got an order from the Army. The prime contractor, Kellogg, won't talk at all. .I hit the same wall at the War Production Bureau. The guys there just kept their mouths shut. The landing craft program had never had a conflict with the uranium bomb before. I figured it couldn't be anything else. So I called is you." "On what grounds do you think I worked on the uranium bomb?" "General Connolly told me in Tehran that you were doing a big job. So I took a wild guess." "You mean," Peters asked curtly and suspiciously, "that you're calling me based on guesswork?" "Right. Can we get the connectors, Colonel?" After a long pause, they stared at each other, and after a while, Peters replied, "I'm sorry, I can't give it to you." "Why not? What are you using the connector for?" "My God, Henry! For one of the most urgent procedures in the country." "I know that. But can't this part be replaced by something else? Its function is to connect the pipes. There are many ways to connect the pipes." "Then can't you use another method on your landing craft?" "I'll tell you my problem if you'd like to hear it." "Would you like a cup of coffee?" "Thank you. Just plain coffee and no sugar. It's a nice cigar." "The best in the world." Peters ordered coffee over the intercom.Pug liked him better when the man was stubborn.A quick confrontation across the table is a bit like a long game in tennis.Peters' return has been strong up to this point, but not erratic or eccentric. "I'm listening." Peters leaned back in the swivel chair, wrapping his hands around one knee. "Well. Our shipyards are so busy that we subcontract part of the shipbuilding to the UK. We send some parts over there, and with the assistance of semi-skilled workers, it can be assembled and launched in a few days. That said, if you have the proper parts on hand. These connectors from Dreiser are quicker to install than swaging or bolting the joints. They don't require much experience or effort to install. Also , and it's easy to undo the connectors and check for faulty lines. The Queen Mary set sail on Friday, Colonel, with 15,000 soldiers on board; Trucks have been arranged in Pennsylvania to send the material to New York. I am speaking of parts for forty ships. If the parts are delivered on schedule, Vinsenhower can use the It turned out that more troops were going to attack the French beaches." "We hear that kind of stuff all the time," Peters said. "The British will connect those pipes somehow." "You see, the decision to bring these boats to the UK for assembly depended on sophisticated rapid assembly methods. When we shipped the parts, these connectors were available. Now, you have taken our priority. For what ?” Puffing on his cigar, Peters squinted at Pug through the smoke and replied, "Well, I'll tell you. For a vast network of sewers. We're about as fast and easy as you are." , and we are more urgent." "I have an idea of ​​how to solve this problem," Pug said. "It's easier than going to the President, though I'm going to." "Speak your mind and listen." "I checked all the materials that Dreiser had on hand. They can modify a larger connector to meet your specifications. The delivery will be delayed by ten days. I have samples of this replacement connector. If I'll take this sample to your factory and talk to the engineering staff in charge, what do you think?" "Christ, that's not the way to go." "Why not? Peters, the people at the scene could have sorted this out in a matter of hours, or not? President Roosevelt had other things on his mind. Either way, he's the one to refute it, General Groves Wouldn't like it. Why not try to avoid it?" "How do you know what kind of decision the president is going to make?" "I attended the Tehran conference. The landing craft project was an obligation not only to Churchill, but also to Stalin." "It will take a week for you to be allowed to go this way—if it can be done." "No, Colonel. Those trucks have to be loaded and leave Bradford, Pennsylvania, early Thursday morning." "Then you'll have to go to the President. I can't help you." "Well, I'll go right away," said Pug, putting out his cigar. Colonel Peters stood up, shook Pug's hand, and walked down the long corridor with him. "Let me find out another possibility and call you before noon." "I'll wait for your call." About an hour later, Peters called Pug. "Will you take a short trip with me? Two nights out of Washington." "of course can." "Meet me at Union Station at five minutes before seven, platform eighteen. I'll book a berth." "Where are we going?" "Go up to Knoxville, Tennessee. Take that replacement connector with you." Make or break it, thought Pug. Oak Ridge is a vast forested area along a little-known river in Tennessee cut off from the rest of the world by a blockade.A clandestine industrial complex sprang up there, in a new way to inflict carnage on a scale never seen before.Therefore, today some would argue that it is comparable to Auschwitz. Of course, no one was killed, and there was little slave labor in Oak Ridge.Excited Americans are working for high wages, building huge buildings and installing machines, not knowing what it is all about.Oak Ridge was better kept secret than Auschwitz.Internally, only the very high ranks know.Outside, little gossip leaked out. As in Germany it was indecent to speak of the Jewish condition, so in Oak Ridge it was against social etiquette to discuss the use of the place.In Germany people did know that something terrible must be happening to the Jews, and the Germans in Auschwitz knew exactly what was going on, but the Oak Ridge crew had been working on it until the bombs dropped on Hiroshima. To keep in the dark.They toiled in ankle-deep mud during the day and entertained themselves as best they could in rough sheds and trailers at night, asking no questions, in beautiful wooded areas.Or else they spread witty rumors that, for example, they were building a factory to mass-produce frivolous parts to be shipped to Washington for assembly. Having said that, there was a postwar discourse that, when you consider the aftermath of Auschwitz and Oak Ridge, the Americans and the Nazis were not very different; both committed new crimes of barbarism.This is a contentious point.After every war there is always a great and justifiable revulsion at the whole horrific bloodshed.Often the distinctions become blurred.Everything is atrocity.All are equally guilty.That's what public opinion says.In truth, it was a vile and nasty war.So despicable and nasty that humans don't want to fight another war.This is at least the beginning of a move towards the abolition of this crazy old ailment of humanity.In retrospect, however, it must not be confused with a general crime.There is a difference here. First, the Oak Ridge effort broke new ground in physics, chemistry, and industrial invention by producing uranium-235.As a feat of practical engineering and of human scientific talent, it is remarkable and probably unique in its size and splendor.The gas chambers and cremators of the Germans were not brilliant, original masterpieces of genius. Besides, in war, when you are attacked, you can either give up resistance, let yourself be plundered, or fight.The meaning of combat is to try to scare the opponent to stop fighting through a large number of massacres.There will inevitably be political conflicts between countries.In an age of rationality and science, such conflicts should of course be resolved by some wiser means than mass murder. But German and Japanese politicians have resorted to this means, arguing that this The means work. We can only dissuade them by the same means. When the Americans start scrambling to build a uranium bomb, they have no way of knowing that their attackers won't be the first to make and use it. It's a panic and Powerful thoughts. So overall, the parallels between Auschwitz and Oak Ridge seem far-fetched.They have similarities.Both were colossal, secretive methods of massacre created during wartime; both uncovered horribly unresolved new questions in human experience; and neither would have exist.The purpose at Auschwitz was insane, futile killing.The purpose of Oak Ridge was to end the global war waged by Germany, and it did just that. However, when Pug.When Henry went to Oak Ridge in the late spring of 1944, the Manhattan Project loomed large like a colossal wartime bust, as imposing as the handicrafts of all ages.The whole scheme was wasted to the point of insanity.Only the urgent need for a decisive new weapon can justify this plan.By 1944, the fear that the Germans or the Japanese would come ahead of the United States on such bombs was disappearing; the new goal was to shorten the war.So the military built three different huge industrial complexes for making bomb materials, based on three different theories.The Hanford plant on the Columbia River is doing its best to produce plutonium.It's a risky venture, but one that's bright and promising compared with the two giant facilities in Oak Ridge, which want to split uranium-235 by two different methods. open, and both of these approaches have repeatedly failed and are still crackling and experimental. Few, even among the most senior officials, knew the magnitude of the defeat that might be ahead.Colonel Peters knew.Robert.Dr. Oppenheimer, the scientific soul of the bomb program, knew.Leslie.Brigadier General Groves, the decisive, cool Army general who presided over the cause, knew it too.But no one knew what to do with it.Dr. Oppenheimer had a new idea, so Col. Peters went to Oak Ridge to meet with Oppenheimer and a senior subcommittee. Colonel Henry's demands for the Dreiser connector were trivial compared with the crisis.In order not to risk a dispute with the White House, Peters invited Pug to go with him, because Pug's access clearance for classified materials was perfect.Oppenheimer's idea involved bringing in the Navy, whose relationship was explosive.A gesture of cooperation at this moment makes sense. Peters knew nothing of the Navy's thermal diffusion methods.General Groves's first rule was: "Separate it apart"—build barriers of non-communication between the bomb-making departments so that no one on one track knows what's going on elsewhere. thing.Groves investigated overheating in 1942 and concluded that the Navy was wasting its time.At this time, Oppenheimer wrote a letter to Groves, suggesting that he should study again the results obtained by the Navy as soon as possible. Pug.Henry had walked through military checkpoints all his life, but the barricades at Oak Ridge were a novelty.The guards at the gate were inspecting a group of new workers amidst a seething noise, counting them in one by one like gold coins, and boarding the bus waiting inside the gate.The surrogate connector that Pug had brought was scrutinized by the stern-looking military police and placed before the fluoroscope.He himself underwent a pat-down and some rigorous interrogation before returning to Peters' military vehicle, donning a number of different badges and a dosimeter. "Go ahead," Peters said to the sergeant driver. "Stop on a high slope." They galloped steadily along a narrow asphalt road, through thick woods where redbuds were in full bloom. "Bob McDermott was waiting at the castle. I made a phone call to him," Peters said. "I will hand you over to him to entertain." "Who is he? Where is the castle?" "He has to send your request up. He's the chief engineer. The castle is the office building here." The drive through the bleak woods continued for several miles.Colonel Peters handled papers as he had done on the train and the drive from Knoxville.The two have barely spoken since leaving Washington.Pug had his own bundle of papers, and he was always fond of keeping quiet.It was a warm morning, and the woodsy smell from the open car window was pleasant.The car passed through the dense mountain Rongying, and circled up along a winding road.The driver turned a corner and pulled to the side of the road to stop. "God Almighty!" said handsome B. G. with a sigh. "K-25," Peters said. An open canyon stretches beneath us; a chaotic, muddy scene of construction surrounding an unfinished building that looks like all the hangars in America put together formed a U shape.It was the tallest building Pug had ever seen.Around this building, flat-roofed sheds, masses of trailers, rows of barracks, and many houses stretched for miles out of sight.Seen from this distance, the general appearance was an eerie amalgamation of an army base, a sci-fi fantasy, and a gold rush city, all in a sea of ​​red dirt.A frightening sense of the future emanated from the scene like the shock wave of a bomb. "The plumbing is for that big factory," Peters said. "Isn't it a major project, eh? The technicians go up there and ride their bikes. It's started, but we're still adding units. There's a canyon over the ridge, and there's another Facility. Not as big as this one, built on a different principle." They drove downhill, through roaring ravines, past rough huts criss-crossed by dirt boardwalks, past a hundred noisy construction jobs, past the towering K. -25 buildings, straight to the "Castle".Pug hadn't expected to meet someone he knew, but there was Sim standing in the aisle.Anderson, in uniform, was talking to a few civilians in shirtsleeves.Pug froze for a moment, waved his hand casually, and Sim quickly returned a military salute. "Do you know that young man?" Peters asked. "My daughter's boyfriend. Lieutenant Commander Anderson." "Sniff, yes. Rhoda mentioned him." This is the first mention of Rhoda on this trip. The walls of the chief engineer's small office were covered with maps, and his desk was covered with blueprints.McDermott was a stocky, bearded man with a look of ferocious glee in puffed-up brown eyes, as if he were clinging to his own reason and seeing Oak Ridge as a madman. It's like a big joke.His pressed trousers were tucked into rubber boots, which were covered with fresh red dirt. "Hope you don't mind walking in the mud," he said, shaking Pug's hand. "If walking around gets me those connectors, then I don't give a damn." McDermott examined the substitute connector Pug had shown him. "Why don't you use this thing on your landing craft?" "We cannot accept the kind of delays that modifications necessarily entail." "Can we?" McDermott asked Colonel Peters. "That's a second question," Peters replied. "First of all, can you use this thing?" McDermott turned to Pug, pointing with his thumb at a pile of muddy boots. "Go get a pair and put them on yourself, let's go." "How much time do you need?" Peters asked. "I'll bring him back at four o'clock." "That's good. Has the new fence arrived from Detroit?" McDermott nodded.A look of ferocity and joy hung over his face like a mask. "Not very satisfied." "My God," Peters said. "The general will be very disappointed." "They're still experimenting." "I'm ready," said Pug.Those boots are too big.He hoped it wouldn't fall off in the mud. "Let's go," McDermott said. In the aisle, a small, bespectacled, almost bald colonel was also talking to Anderson and the clerks, with an amiable and shrewd look on his face.Peters introduced Pug to Colonel Nichols, the Army chief at Oak Ridge. "Can the Navy get those landing craft on time?" Nichols asked Pug, tempering his blunt question with a cheerful manner. "If you keep stealing our parts, it won't be built on time." Nichols asked McDermott: "What's the problem?" "It's a Dreiser connector for underground water pipes." "Oh, yes. You do the best you can." "I'm planning to think of a way." "Hello," Pag said to Anderson. The young officer grinned sheepishly. Pug followed McDermott. As Pug left, a frail young man entered the building, smoking a pipe.Sim.Anderson's knees shook at the thought of addressing a rally that included Dr. Oppenheimer.According to Anderson, Oppenheimer was probably the smartest man alive; his mind explored nature.It was as if God was his personal tutor, yet he was cruel to fools.Sim's boss, Aibelson, casually sent Sim to Xiangshu Ridge to tell the main personnel and enterprise managers of Oak Ridge about the thermal diffusion factory.Only after arriving did Sim learn that Oppenheimer would also be attending. There is no other way at the moment.He felt a little flustered by how unprepared he was, and followed Dr. Oppenheimer into the small conference room, where a blackboard made it look like a classroom.More than two dozen people, mostly in shirtsleeves, made the conference room appear crowded, stuffy and smoky.Nichols introduced Anderson to the group, and he rose to his feet, sweating in his thick blue uniform.But after talking about his work, chalk in hand, he soon felt at ease.He avoided looking at Oppenheimer, who was lounging in the second row smoking a cigarette.By the time Anderson stopped to answer questions, forty minutes had passed quickly, and the blackboard was full of diagrams and equations.His small audience appears nuanced, confused, and interested. Nichols broke the brief silence. "That separation factor—that's the theoretical performance you're hoping for, isn't it?" "That's what our method suggests, Colonel." "Are you getting that enriched uranium-235? Right now?" "Yes, Colonel. Four past one. One seventieth." Nichols stared straight at Oppenheimer. Oppenheimer stood up, stepped forward, shook Sim's hand, and smiled a little in appreciation. "Well done, Anderson." Sim sat down, feeling a great deal of relief. Oppenheimer looked around with his large dark eyes. "The number one four is the reason for this meeting. We made a very basic, serious, embarrassing mistake," he drawled in a weary voice. All of us responsible for this mistake. It seems we are all baffled by the greater precision and ingenuity of gaseous diffusion and electromagnetic gaps. Condensation to nine percent along a single track Ten, confuses us too. We didn't think the joint process might be a faster route. Now we're at this point. According to the latest news on the fence, it's impossible for K-25 to be on time for this war .Hanford. We're experimenting with a bomb configuration for an explosive in New Mexico that doesn't exist yet. Doesn't exist in sufficient quantities." 奥本海默拿起粉笔，往下说道：“热扩散本身并不会提供给咱们需要的那种浓缩，然而热扩散和Y －12程序的结合，会在一九四五年七月前后给我们提供一枚炸弹。这是很清楚的。”他迅速地在黑板上写下了一些数字，显示出Y －12工厂的电磁间隙增加了四倍，已知债电浓缩到了七十分之一。“问题是，能否在几个月内建立起一爿规模很大的火力发电工厂来馈电给Y －12呢？我已经向格罗夫斯将军再三提出了这项建议。咱们上这儿来，就是讨论各种方法的。” 奥本海默弓着身子、骨瘦如柴、郁郁不乐地回到了座位上。这时候，既然会议有了方向，与会的人就用速记很快地写好多种意见和问题从四处递上来。西姆。安德森应邀答复了许多问题。参加会议的人紧紧钉着询问海军这种方法的核心问题：那四十八英尺的同心铁、铜和镍圆柱的垂直气管。 “可是海军只用了一百只，而且是手制的，”坐在前排的一个大身个儿、红脸蛋儿的文职人员嚷着说。 “这是实验室的设备。咱们在这儿谈论着好几千只这种该死的玩意儿，对吗？象座森林似的一大堆，全”是工厂造的！这是铝管工人的恶梦，尼科尔斯上校。你在国内不会找到一家公司肯接下这样一个合同。三千只那么长的管子，还要具有那种种公差，时间又仅仅是几个月，这成吗？忘掉吧。 " 会议分成两个小组共进午餐：一组跟奥本海默和安德森议论设计；一组跟尼科尔斯和彼得斯就构造与生产问题进行会商。“将军想把这件事办掉，”尼科尔斯上校在休会前总结说。“那么就办掉吧。咱们大伙儿两点钟再回到这儿来开会，着手作出一些决定。” 奥本海默把烟斗摆了一摆，唤住了酉蒙，叫他不要离开会议室。等室内就留下他们两人时，他走到黑板前边，说：“成绩是A 减，安德森。”他拿起粉笔，用手有力地擦了一下，又潦草地写下一些符号，纠正了一个等式，接着急速地问了一连串的问题，使这个海军军官对于自己理解的热扩散问题的各个方面感到有点儿迷糊。“好，咱们上自助食堂去，”他扔了粉笔说，“跟别人一块儿去进餐。” “是，博士。” 可是奥本海默靠在桌子上，合抱着胳膊，并没作出要走的动作。“你接下去得干什么？” “我今儿晚上就回华盛顿去，博士。” “这我知道。目前，既然陆军方面也要进行热扩散试验，提一个新的要求怎么样？来，跟我们一块儿上新墨西哥去。” “你肯定陆军会这么做吗？” “他们不得不这么做。没有其他的办法。这种武器本身在概念方面还有一些微妙的问题。可以说不是猎狮，只是紧张地打兔子。你结婚了吗，安德森？” “啊——没有，我还没有。” “这样最好。方山是一个奇怪的地方，根荒凉。有些人的妻子喜欢它，但是有些人的——这跟你没关系。你不久就会收到帕森斯上尉的信。” “帕森斯上尉？他这会儿在新墨西哥州吗？” “他是一个处长。你去，好吗？那儿有许多优点。” “命令我上哪儿我就上哪儿，奥本海默博士。” “命令不成问题。” 在泥泞中的跋涉把维克多。亨利累坏了。麦克德莫特开了一辆吉普车去，但是狭窄、多辙的道路常在灌木丛或垃圾堆中兀地一下到了尽头，往往离开他们要去的地方还很远。帕格并不在意到处作艰苦步行，因为他们正在得出他所要的答复。技术人员一个接一个同意说，用一个修改过的套筒和一个加厚了的垫圈，这种代用连接器可以合用。这可还是老一套——华盛顿行政当局办事的僵化和戴安全帽、穿溅满泥土的鞋子、两手搞得肮脏的好性气的工作人员所表现出的起码常识。帕格曾经用这种办法打破过供应问题上的许多僵局。 “我现在完全相信了，”他们在暴雨将来、乌云密布的天空下驶回来时，麦克德莫特从吉普车的颠簸和嘎嘎声中大声喊着说。右几小时，他们一直都在这样驶行，只停下在一个野外临时食堂里吃了点儿三明治和咖啡。“那么请你去说服陆军也相信可以用，上校。”