30
RECLAIMED LAND IN CHANGI, SINGAPORE. NOVEMBER 22, 2230 HOURS.
The internal timer on the main control
panel counted down the seconds to zero. A simple beep was the only sound it
made as a mere nine volts of electricity were released and coursed down the
firing circuit to ignite the 32 electronic detonators – one embedded in each of
the shaped SEMTEX 10 explosive charges surrounding the plutonium core.
The core’s thick titanium shell
contained the initial blast from the high-grade explosives and directed the
force inwards causing an immense implosion of the plutonium core inside the
sphere. The shockwave squeezed and fused the 11.3 kilograms of
highly-enriched plutonium into a white-hot mass about a third of its original
size. The weapon’s nuclear core had just gone supercritical.
It remained in this state for less than
one microsecond longer as the temperature inside rose instantly to 10,000,000°
Celsius – hotter than the surface of the sun. At the same time, the super-dense
core was bombarded by a flood of neutrons initiating an unstoppable nuclear chain
reaction. The increased pressure building up within the hardened titanium shell
of the weapon triggered an instant and massive release of raw explosive energy.
The first indication of the nuclear
blast was an intense burst of both gamma rays and X-rays followed by massive
neutron radiation escaping from the core. The titanium shell, unable to contain
the colossal pressure building up inside, blew itself apart. The gamma rays
ionised the atmosphere around the device generating the blinding flash of pure
white light. And for a few seconds, just as Saif had predicted, the mighty Saif
al-Haidar shone brighter than an exploding star.
At that point of detonation, the entire
warhead assembly along with all matter within a radius of 600 metres was simply
vaporised. The energy then radiated outwards in an expanding shockwave of total
and complete annihilation.
It took only two seconds for the giant
mushroom fireball to reach 600
metres into the night sky. In ten seconds, the shockwave
with its gale-force winds had already travelled over four kilometres destroying
everything in its path. The massacre had begun.
Vice Admiral Forrestal was on the bridge
of his carrier waiting for the final reports on the repairs to come in when he
was struck by the blinding flash to his left just beyond the treeline in the
distance.
Instinctively he covered his eyes and
turned away as the shockwave tossed him into the air. Being just 700 metres away from
Ground Zero, the mighty George Washington together with the rest of its
fleet did not stand a chance.
The rolling wave of superheated air
slammed broadside into the aircraft carrier blasting it apart. Only small
chunks of twisted and melting steel remained scattered over a wide area. It was
much the same fate that befell the rest of the American task force and another
eighteen Singapore navy warships including two of its highly-prized diesel
submarines anchored at the base.
The surface pressure of the shockwave
pushed the sea back for almost 800 metres . But within minutes, the waters
returned with a vengeance in a tsunami twenty metres high. The crashing wave
smothered what was left of the Changi Naval Base before pressing its
destructive power further inland.
Two kilometres away from the epicentre,
Changi Airport was not spared as the shockwave flipped over airplanes waiting
on the tarmac. The intense heat caused two of the three packed airport
passenger terminals to spontaneously combust dooming those inside to a fiery
death.
Within seconds of the nuclear explosion,
five civilian passenger jets on their final approach to the airport began
falling out of the sky like giant dead birds as the invisible gamma rays
destroyed their flight control systems.
Changi General Hospital, the closest
medical facility to Ground Zero was decimated along with many factories in
Singapore’s eastern industrial sector.
The nuclear inferno also laid waste to
several key military bases including several infantry brigades, Singapore’s
elite commando battalion and two air force bases located on either side of
Changi Airport. These housed the 145 Squadron which operated the country’s
frontline F-16D Fighting Falcons attack jets.
By military standards, this nuclear
explosion was a relatively small one, estimated at 27 kilotons – just slightly
larger than the blast of ‘Fat Man’ – the atomic bomb that destroyed Nagasaki in
1945 which had an explosive yield of some 21 kilotons.
But as this had been a surface
detonation, unlike the atomic blasts in Japan which were triggered in mid-air,
about a third of the blast wave and the radiation it expelled was directed
towards the ground, excavating a crater nearly 130 metres deep.
The thermal shockwave registered as a
moderate 6.4 earthquake on the Richter Magnitude Scale, levelling buildings and
rupturing underground gas mains, power cables and water pipes.
Ground Zero had been plunged into an
unholy darkness illuminated only by the numerous fires and the towering
mushroom cloud still growing in the night sky.
Major arterial expressways in the kill
zone were demolished as the shockwave continued to radiate outwards.
Minutes earlier, handcuffed in the
backseat of the police car, Saif’s eyes had been fixed on the small digital
clock on the dashboard which read 10:28pm. They were still driving along the
East Coast Parkway and were just 10 minutes away from the bright city lights in
the distance.
If they had another five minutes,
perhaps they could outrun the shockwave but Saif knew there would be no escape.
In his mind, he felt that it was better to die this way, to end his life by his
own hands. His conscience was clear as he muttered a short prayer pleading for
divine mercy for his soul. He knew his family would be waiting for him on the
other side in Paradise and this thought comforted him in his final moments.
The clock now read 10:29pm. Turning to
his captors he said: “It is too late now my friends. Pray for your souls and
your families. We were all good soldiers. We did what we had to do but our
fight is done. It is finished.”
The two escorting officers simply
ignored him as the clock on the dashboard ran down the final seconds to
10.30pm.
Saif struggled to turn around in his
seat as he wanted to see it for himself. And through the rear windscreen, he
caught just a fleeting glimpse.
The star that he had created had
exploded in a heavenly light beyond all mortal description. For him, the very
gates of heaven had just opened, welcoming home its faithful son. It was the
last thing he ever saw as the light seared his retinas leaving him blind. He
did not feel the shockwave flipping over his vehicle nor the roaring fires from
hell which consumed what was left of it. He was at peace with his maker, ready
for the final judgement of his earthly deeds.
The rolling shockwave took out the
island’s eastern housing estates of Bedok, Tampines and Marine Parade, home to
some 700,000 people.
Most of the victims had been home in
their high-rise apartments when the weapon detonated. Their towering blocks,
built so close together in land-scarce Singapore, fell like a giant stack of
playing cards pushed by the unseen hand of the shockwave.
In just minutes, these bustling suburban
towns were reduced to a desolate and burning wasteland.
For most, the hand of death came swiftly
in the fiery wind. The few who stubbornly clung on to life suffered massive
third-degree burns as the air around them was spontaneously set alight by the
intense heat of the nuclear firestorm that swept over them.
They lay crushed and abandoned under the
debris of their once proud and expensive homes, now reduced to melting
concrete. Some survivors buried deep underground would linger on in limbo for
minutes. The less fortunate would survive perhaps just a few more hours far
beyond the pain threshold of consciousness. But for all of them, death was
simply inevitable.
A few more who were caught in the open
and were somehow unlucky enough to still be alive were blinded by the piercing
flash of the explosion and left deaf by the intense pressure of the shockwave
which ruptured their ear-drums. These pitiful few would stagger on like zombies
– blind and deaf, impaled by shards of falling glass and stoned by debris
raining down from the buildings crumbling around them. There would be no one to
hear their screams for help. It had only been less than five minutes since the
explosion but already for all of them, it was much too late.
Still, the nuclear nightmare was only
just beginning.
In ten minutes, the ugly red mushroom
cloud had reached its peak of 21,000 metres . And soon Singaporeans would
experience their first snowfall of sorts in history.
As the hot materials in the cloud cooled
and condensed, highly radioactive fallout in the form of dirty ash-laden specks
of ice began to drift down across the island.
In the first seconds since the nuclear
detonation, an estimated 50,000 people had perished. Thousands more lingered
close to death, soon to be entombed in a thick suffocating blanket of
radioactive ash.
Beyond the 10-kilometre hot zone, the
slaughter of the innocents continued. Hundreds of people were trapped in their
vehicles when the EMPs caused the engines to quit. They faced the dilemma of
staying in their cars and buses which provided a limited amount of protection
or to run for better shelter in a nearby building amidst the heavy ash fallout
which was beginning to cover their vehicles.
Even those further from the blast zone
would not be spared from the effects of the invisible radiation. The stronger
ones may survive a few more weeks as their withered bodies slowly shut down.
The radiation would destroy their cells, making it impossible for them to
replenish the blood and fluids they had lost. Their stomach linings would be
devastated, causing massive internal bleeding and severe diarrhoea. They would
slowly waste away, praying for the warm comfort of eternal sleep.
Amidst the utter carnage, one building
on the outer fringe of the death zone remained standing, virtually unscathed.
The thick stone walls built nearly two hundred years ago had protected her from
the gale-force winds and the fires of the nuclear abyss.
Slowly the lone priest emerged from his
spartan room at the rear of the church, close to the Hall of Repose where wakes
for the dead were held.
Dazed, he shuffled barefooted into the
courtyard of the old church. Father Michel Bata stared unbelievingly at the
scene before him. The night sky glowed an angry red and the air was thick and
burning hot.
Once surrounded by tall buildings, many
now lay broken in ugly heaps of smouldering rubble as if they had been sliced
in two by Death’s giant scythe.
Coughing violently from the hot falling
ash, he spat out thick globs of blood as he felt a burning sensation grip his
lungs. His old brain simply could not process what had just happened. It was a
scene from hell, of this he was sure. The priest crossed himself praying aloud
for strength amidst the utter silence that engulfed him. And then it dawned on
him – he had one more mission to accomplish.
Stumbling along, he dragged his weary
body forward towards the tower. He could barely see now as the falling ash grew
thicker but still, his weathered hands knew the old stone walls well.
It took him fifteen long and painful
minutes to get to where he needed to be. Groping in the near darkness, he
reached for the thick ropes and began pulling as hard as he could, just as he
had done each day at noon to summon the faithful.
Cursing the slowness of his dying body,
he finally heard the sacred brass bells toll their hollow peal. For all those
who were still alive and who could still hear, the Cathedral of Saint Joseph
which had survived two world wars offered a glimpse of hope and refuge for the
people of this crippled nation. The heavy wooden doors of the old church would
once again remain open to anyone who needed her help and the shelter of her
mighty walls.
People had expected to hear the sirens
of the Emergency Warning System – a series of loudspeakers mounted on buildings
across the nation by the Singapore Civil Defence Force. These were meant to be
triggered in the event of an enemy air raid but still, on this night when they
were needed most of all, they remained silent.
Many had been crushed as the buildings
they were attached to simply collapsed. Others had their delicate electronics
destroyed in the EMP wave rendering them useless.
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