A CEREMONY WAS to be held in Fuller Lodge to, as the announcement said, acknowledge the scientific achievements of Los Alamos. A stage was constructed and behind it a long banner of red, white, and blue. The President of the University of California came because the University of California partially ran Los Alamos, someone said, or since the Director taught there, perhaps, another person added, but the reason was unclear. The President stood in the middle of the stage wearing a double-breasted pinstriped suit and to his left the General wore his customary khaki, customarily wrinkled. To the right was the Director, who somehow seemed alone—he stared out into the crowd rather than speaking with the others on the stage and though he looked out at us, it was as if he looked out at nothing—his face was expressionless, which, given that it was an occasion of celebration, was in itself memorable. There were folding chairs for us to sit on, real chairs with backs instead of the hay bales we sat on to watch movies, and one wife in the crowd said, Real chairs in the Lodge! We’ve made it now, and those around her chuckled.
THOUGH THERE WAS a military band at every event, there wasn’t this time, but four band members marched to the front of the stage, saluted the President, marched to the back of the Lodge, and sat down. The President walked to the microphone. He spoke about the great achievements accomplished and some of us noticed the Director’s lack of attention. After polite claps for the President, the Director walked to the podium. It was his turn to thank the President, on behalf of all at Los Alamos, for the honor of this recognition. We leaned forward.
HE THANKED THE President. He thanked us. He repeated his previous words of caution. He sat down.
WHEN IT WAS the General’s turn to speak he did not contradict the Director but gave further cautions: We are at a crossroads between annihilation and peace. My hope is that the world leaders will work together to ensure safety for us all. And with that he was not the frumpy man who loved his chocolate and controlled our whereabouts, but a reasonable person who expressed the gravity of the circumstances. He was our General then, just as the Director had always been our Director. Here we were, together, on the brink of a future we could not predict—more unknowns were yet to come—but we were very aware of it. We clapped, we stood and clapped, we hooted, we cried, we hugged. And with that, our war and our duty here at Los Alamos were, for many of us, officially, over.