War has the voice of a million muzzles, and where it speaks, dust hangs in the air for weeks. Violence is consummate, no worm is safe; the bomb digs deeper than the mole. All creatures living in earth and air, entire censuses of seas, feel the shock. The twin screws of the dreadnought scatter plankton in luminous waters; depth bombs blow up whole nations of schooling fish; not even the sky is the limit of the shedding of blood. Every leaf and every frond knows the score, and so do neutral mountains a hemisphere distant, for the crust of the globe is sensitive, and will instantly relay a jolt in Micronesia to the jittery seismographs of Pasadena.
“Fifty Years After 14 August” broadcast August 14, 1995 on NPR