He knew things like that, miscellaneous scads of them, which had come deluging over the walkie-talkie, intended for others.
He knew more—most of it, too, from Hink Field.
New York was gone. H-bombed. The whole thing.
So were San Francisco and Los Angeles and Philadelphia. About twenty-five other cities had been hit by fission bombs like the one which had struck the Sister Cities, “probably a secondary target or target of expediency,” they asserted. Germ war had begun on some of the people around the edge of bombed areas, and elsewhere nerve gas had been used.
Every state had declared martial law.
Two vast waves of bombers had come in across Canada.
Two enemy aircraft carriers, the existence of which had not been known, had made their way into the waters south of the Gulf of Lower California and launched planes equipped with robot missiles which were armed with “unexpectedly powerful” plutonium bombs.
The bomb that had detonated over Green Prairie River was now estimated at approximately one hundred kilotons. The aiming point was thought to have been the Central Avenue-Market Street Bridge, and the actual Ground Zero, a few hundred yards west. The robot bomb had been launched at a distance of more than a hundred miles and apparently guided by TV-radar devices.
The launching plane had been brought down, in a suicide dive, by Captain Leo Cohen of Hink Field, only seconds after the discharge of its missile.
Ted knew (if he cared to think about it) that: