For amber waves of grain

Junction City, Kansas—We were saved from an expensive speeding ticket by an Atomic Cannon.

Gluten free ain't heard around here.

Driving on back roads through golden fields of waving wheat and emerald stalks of ripening corn, it's easy to become mesmerized by the comforting hum of tires on old asphalt. Just as the speedometer needle crept past 70 miles an hour on the long, straight stretch of rural road we were traveling just west of Junction City, Caroline saw the state trooper. We could feel the radar waves penetrate the windshield and slam into our chests, elevating our heatbeats. We were busted!

The amiable cop introduced himself and asked Caroline if she knew why he had pulled her over.

"Yes," she said unambiguously.

"You were speeding," the cop said. Caroline nodded. "Do you know by how much?"

"No," Caroline said honestly. "What is the speed limit around here anyway?"

"55," the cop answered with a slight smirk. "You were going 71. Pretty fast. Where are you headed, anyway?"

"Junction City," Caroline said solemnly.

"And you didn't take the Interstate?" he asked.

The Atomic Cannon at Freedom Park in Junction City

"We're on our way to see the Atomic Cannon," I piped up, handing the proof of insurance card over to Caroline.

"You folks really are from out of town, aren't you?" the cop asked.

We both nodded in unison.

"Well, sit tight and I'll write this up and get you back on your way in a few minutes."

The cop reappeared sometime later with a yellow slip of paper in hand. Caroline and I had been taking bets during his absence of how big the fine would be. $100? $250? More? Who knew? It had been 25 years since either of us had gotten a ticket.

He handed Caroline a warning and asked her to slow down from now on.

"Wow! Thanks!" we both said brightly.

"Enjoy your visit," the cop said with a smile.

About 15 minutes later we were in Junction city staring up at the top of a huge hill. The Atomic Cannon sat overlooking the highway as a testament to the utter insanity of a bygone era.

Atomic Cannons had been deployed across Europe during the Cold War. They were designed to deliver an artillery round about one-foot in diameter to a target 20 miles away. The big difference between this gun and other giant artillery installations, however, was that the Atomic Cannon was designed to hurl a nuclear warhead with a 15-kiloton yield—a payload about equal to what was dropped on Hiroshima at the end of World War II. 

Atomic Cannon, Grable shot, May 25, 1953

The gun was fired only once—in Nevada on May 25, 1953, as part of the Upshot-Knothole test series. The Grable shot proved that devastating nuclear weapons could be delivered effectively from the battlefield if needed. I suppose someone, somewhere can take comfort in that fact.

Fort Riley—the home of the Big Red 1, the Army's 1st Infantry Division—is custodian of the Atomic Cannon. There are just three of them left in the world. The others reside in Oklahoma and Maryland [Editor's Note: I am told that there are more than three still in existence, with one more residing at the National Atomic Museum in Albuquerque, N.M.].

As we scrambled up the steep hill, my knees screamed like an incoming artillery round. I squinted with my one good eye toward the summit, which was still a good distance away. When we finally reached the top, the seriousness of the relic at hand was juxtaposed with the excited chatter of two young boys who were clambering all over the stern steel beast. Their father patiently answered questions about how the weapon worked, as the boys made explosion noises. For a generation that never got to see a mushroom cloud or feel the dread of protracted conflict, the sight of the cannon must have been as exciting as it was to the handful of military Top Brass who gathered at Frenchman's Flat in Nevada to watch the weapon unleash its uncompromising promise of mass destruction.

Road trips allow us to get back in touch with our nation's journey through history so we can better understand how we arrived at our current destination. The Atomic Cannon reminds us of the lengths humans will go to when they feel threatened. Perhaps that Kansas State Police officer knew this when he let us go on our way unhindered.

See you on down the road!