The Promise

Picture and Essay by Paul E. James

            I had spent 17 years of my life dedicated to the maintenance and support of the United States' nuclear bomber force.  During that time I rarely thought about the implications of what that force was capable of, and if I did, it was a fleeting thought that had little or no impact on my feelings and attitudes.  But, there was one time....   Mother Nature brought home to me the awesome potential that man had developed for destruction, and at the same time the hope that this potential would never be realized.

            It was a miserably hot and muggy day.  The strato-blue van, that served as my mobile office, was acting like a magnet for the sun's rays.  I had once made the mistake of stretching in the driver's seat, touching the bare metal of the roof, and leaving reddened burned marks on the tips of my fingers.  The heat waves coming off of the concrete caused my view of the light poles, lined up behind the row of bombers, to wave in the glare of the sun.  The sweat on my face stung as it entered my eyes, while sweat ran tickling down my neck.

            The bombers, part of America's nuclear deterrent, were lined up, wingtip to wingtip, down the long concrete ramp.  Behind them was a row of blast fences that protected the hangars located behind the aircraft.  Men and vehicles scurried around the waiting aircraft, tending to their needs.  Some of the bombers had huge trailers hooked up to them, with large yellow air hoses or electrical cables, looking like patients on life support equipment.  Just sitting there, motionless, on the ramp, the long, sleek, graceful lines of those messengers of death made it easy to forget that they were weapons of war.

            The sky behind the aircraft had darkened to a dark gray broken by occasional faint flashes of light.  Behind me, the sun continued to beat down mercilessly on my van.  The hot wind brought the smell of summer rain to me, but gave no cooling relief.  Finally the cool, slight, sprinkle of rain started.  I climbed out of my sweltering van to absorb the thin falling rain.

            As I stretched to receive the cool splash of falling raindrops, I saw the beautiful arch of color that ran from one end of the line of bombers to the other.  Not just one rainbow did I see, but two, one above the other.  I had never before seen the glory of a full length, full color, double rainbow. 

            The story of the rainbow struck me instantaneously, God's promise, after the flood, to never destroy the world again with water.  This symbol of God's love for mankind, was stretched out above these horrendous weapons of war that man had made.  Weapons that were capable, if man so chose, of destroying the earth with nuclear fire.  Yet, here was God's promise in front of me, seeming to say, "There is hope for man, I promise!"

                                                                                Paul E. James

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