When You Have To Go

My little friends, I could have been a contender. Grandpa was a shell in the Great War, and Pappy fell on Hamburg in 1943. I was too young for Korea, I have to admit, but Vietnam? I could have done that. Then you’d have seen the light.

Like many, when the bombers got traded in for rockets, I thought I was obsolete. ICBM delivery was where it was at, and I just didn’t fit in. Submarines, MX MIRVs, and a bunch of nonsense. Then there were treaties, reductions, and all that jazz, and I was seriously thinking about cashing in my chips and getting out of the business. When the Soviet Union collapsed I was just about at the end of my rope.

There didn’t seem to be anything to do. What’s a bomb for?

Well, kids, I am getting out, but not in the way you might think. Sure, my tritium might be decaying, my trigger rotten from passing neutrons, but this isn’t the end. I’m not going to go with a whimper. Some guys from the Middle East will be coming through here soon, and I’m going with them. I’ll see you in the news.

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