Ft. Wingate’s has been used by the US military for more than hundred years to wage war against indigenous people, and to store and test weapons, aimed for people outside America’s borders. Ft. Wingate sits on the grounds of Fort Fauntleroy, which was a temporary post established in 1860 and was the site of a massacre of 12 Navajo women and children. Renamed in 1862 it became a staging point for the forced Navajo march - the Long Walk – and as a post to wage war against the Apaches in the New Mexico Territory in the South.
The fort was transformed into the largest ammo depot in the world during World War 1 and through the 20th century was used as storage and demilitarization facility and weapons testing ground. Both the Reston and Pershing missiles, the primary nuclear capable ballistic missiles, were tested there during the Cold War. The area was also used to dismantle old ordnance through open burning detonation and incineration. It closed in 1993 but parts of the base were still used to fire missiles into White Sands Missile rage, 150 mile away. The government is in negotiations to return some of the land to the Zuni and Navajo, which consider it ancestral grounds, but much of the landscape is contaminated including the ground water in some places.
A view of Haystack mountain at sunset where in 1950 Navajo sheepherder Paddy Martinez discovered yellow cake and the uranium mining boom was born. The Atomic Energy Commission opened an office in Grants later that year which allowed for the US military to source uranium for nuclear weapons domestically rather than look to the Belgian Congo or Canada. The area produced tens of millions of tons of uranium ore and the resulting radioactive waste and mill tailings contaminated the water, earth and air to this day.
The public gathers around the obelisk monument to the first atomic bomb detonation, which marked the atomic age July 16, 1945. The explosion sent shock broke windows 120 miles away and was felt by people at least 160 miles away. Radiation spread as far as Indiana, and the Wabash River, where Kodak Film Company sourced water for its paper mill to package its film. Customers ended up complaining that their film was fogged and the company secured a pledge form the Atomic Energy Commission to provide Kodak with dates and fallout patterns for future tests, thereby notifying corporate America an not the American people of the risk. Today the site is a closed radiation/military zone opened only two days a year to public. High radiation levels are still detected and residents of New Mexico claim that they have suffered cancer for generations as a result of the test but have never been compensated.
Tiburcio Padilla, 83, looks out his window while recalling the day on July 16, 1945 when as a boy he witnessed the first atomic bomb blast. “All of a sudden we heard that boom and we saw that mushroom cloud come up. The ground just shook all over. We didn’t know what happened.”
The atomic age had been born thirty miles away in the Jornado del Muerto desert.
The Trinity test marked the triumph of the Manhattan Project and paved the way for the quick assembly of nuclear weapons, which were dropped August 6 and August 9 on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing and maiming hundreds of thousands. Residents living around the Trinity test site were never monitored or studied for health impacts, unlike down winders in Nevada and Utah. In 2014, the National Cancer Institute began a survey, a full 69 years after the event.
Padilla grew up sterile, as did another brother and two of his sisters. Four out of twelve children in his family were unable to conceive. He wonders if his proximity to the test and resulting radiation rendered him infertile. The Trinity test site is open to the public two days a year. It still emits high levels or radiation.
The cold war and mass production of nuclear weapons required the construction of military bases around the country, including one of the largest at White Sands Missile Range which was established July 9, 1945 and now spans 3,200 square miles. More than sixty missiles tested and used in combat from 1950’s through the 1990’s including Pershings, Patriots, Falcons and Redstones, are on display in an outdoor playground at inside the entrance to the White Sands Missile Range.
Jacob Olascoaga, 21 years old from Tularosa / Mescalera protesting outside the entrance to the Stallion Gate near the Trinity Site. Jacob was diagnosed with leukemia at age 11 which he attributes to the atomic test. Residents of New Mexico were never included in the RECA (radiation exposure compensation act) and want compensation for what they say are cancers related to the atomic test.
Darlene Arviso, of the St. Bonaventure Indian Mission delivers fresh water to Navajo communities without wells, and also to those whose wells have been contaminated by US military weapons production through uranium mining.
Darlene Arviso of the St. Bonaventure Indian Mission pours fresh water from a truck line into a water container for Navajo families who have no water or no clean water. Uranium mining for weapons production and private industry contaminated many wells.
A new home built to replace a contaminated structure in Haystack.
Several structures in Haystack, were built with contaminated materials from abandoned uranium mines, presenting critical health risks for residents, From 1950 through 1980's uranium was mined across 27,000 square miles in New Mexico, Arizona and Utah to provide material for the US nuclear weapons program. Many Navajo worked in the mines and ended up dying of lung cancer, kidney failure and other cancers. Uranium has been found in the urine of Navajo children today.
Uranium Remembrance Day, residents from Navajo communities and elsewhere call for an end to uranium mining. The biggest nuclear catastrophe in US history occurred July 16, 1979 when the dam at the United Nuclear Corporation's Church Rock uranium mill tailings disposal pond broke sending over 1,000 tons of solid radioactive mill waste and 93 million gallons of acidic, radioactive tailings solution into the Puerco River and contaminating Navajo land. The clean up is still on going. Mining was stopped on Navajo land but there are now calls to revive it. For the past few years, residents of the Church rock community march to the site to honor all those who died and were sickened by uranium mining and to demand a thorough clean up and compensation. This year, residents acknowledged the significant of July 16 as not only the day of the uranium spill, but also the day of the Trinity test, July 16, 1945, and expressed solidarity – through a sharing and reading of letters, with New Mexico residents impacted by the first nuclear test.
Laura Greenwood places a candle in a lantern for her husband John Greenwood who died in 2012. He was the12th member of his family to die of cancer. He grew up in Alamogordo, New Mexico, is 75 miles from the Trinity Site. Each year, Laura drives from Texas for the July 16 candlelight vigil held in Tularosa to memorialize the people they have lost to cancer and other illnesses related to radiation exposure.
A the candlelight vigil commemorating the Trinity test and those who lost loved ones from cancer, allegedly from radiation exposure, is held July 16, 2016 – on the anniversary of the Trinity test, on a baseball field in Tularosa, NM. Residents of four counties in New Mexico that lived within 150 miles of the Trinity test; say they are experience higher than normal rates of cancer, and higher than normal rates of cancer linked to radiation. They are asking the government to including them in the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act. They placed candles inside paper bags with names of those who had died and over three hours, to the sound of a drum and a gong, read out their names.
The annual candlelight vigil is held in Tularosa where the community comes together to memorialize the people they have lost to cancer and other illnesses related to radiation exposure. This occurs on the Saturday closest to July 16th each year. During the Seventh Annual Candlelight Vigil in 2016, over 800 luminaries were lit in memory of community members who died of cancer or other diseases resulting from radiation exposure.
Individuals who were at higher risk for developing cancer due to radioactive fallout include, but are not limited to: persons living within 150 miles of the Trinity test site on July 16, 1945; persons who ate game and/or livestock that were exposed to radioactive fallout from the test; persons who drank milk that came from livestock (cows and goats) that were exposed to radioactive fallout; persons who drank water gathered in cisterns that had been poisoned by radioactive fallout; persons who ate food grown in soil that was exposed to radioactive fallout; and descendants of persons from the previous categories whose genetic composition was altered through hereditary DNA changes.
Luis Lopez is a town in one of four counties being studied for health impacts resulting from radiation fallout from the 1945 Trinity Atomic test. Unlike residents of Nevada and Utah, those in New Mexico have never been acknowledged or covered under the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act. Luis Lopez residents say dozens of people in the cemetery died of cancer and wonder if it is linked to the Trinity test. Residents within 150 miles of the Trinity site show higher incidents of cancer than in other parts of New Mexico according to a health impact study released in 2017 by the Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium.
A sign at the entrance to the old Jefferson Proving Ground that operated from 1941 – 1995 as training ground for US Army weapons. More than 24 million rounds were fired on the grounds. At the height of its operation – the Korean War - 175,000 rounds were fired per month. From 1984-1994, JPG test fired 100,000 kg [220,462 lbs.] of tank penetrator rounds containing depleted uranium (DU). Despite some cleanup, the area still contains 154,324 lbs.] of DU and 1.5 million rounds of unexploded ordinance (UXO) In 2000, the Department of Defense worked out an arrangement with the US Fish and Wildlife Service which took over stewardship of the contaminated landscape and established the Big Oaks Wildlife Refuge on 51, 000 acres of the former proving ground. The land is too contaminated with DU and littered with so much unexploded ordnance that it can never be developed commercially or developed for human habitation. And so only a few areas have been cleared for human leisure activities and a few weekends a year, hunters are allowed on certain parcels. The landscape presents a paradox. It looks pristine but only because it’s so contaminated that much of it is a closed zone.
Standing in a “closed zone” looking at a bridge built for vehicles doing ordnance removal at the Big Oakes Wildlife Refuge. Big Oakes lies on grounds, which were once the Jefferson Proving Ground, which operated from 1941 – 1995 as a training ground for US Army weapons. More than 24 million rounds were fired on the grounds. At the height of its operation – the Korean War - 175,000 rounds were fired per month. From 1984-1994, JPG test fired 100,000 kg [220,462 lbs.] of tank penetrator rounds containing depleted uranium (DU). Despite some cleanup, the area still contains 154,324 lbs.] of DU and 1.5 million rounds of unexploded ordinance (UXO) In 2000, the Department of Defense worked out an arrangement with the US Fish and Wildlife Service which took over stewardship of the contaminated landscape and established the Big Oaks Wildlife Refuge on 51, 000 acres of the former proving ground. The land is too contaminated with DU and littered with so much unexploded ordnance that it can never be developed commercially or developed for human habitation. And so only a few areas have been cleared for human leisure activities and a few weekends a year, hunters are allowed on certain parcels. The landscape presents a paradox. It looks pristine but only because it’s so contaminated that much of it is a closed zone.
A traditional bow hunter poses in the woods during deer hunting weekend at the Big Oakes Wildlife Refuge. Big Oakes lies on grounds, which were once the Jefferson Proving Ground, which operated from 1941 – 1995 as a training ground for US Army weapons. More than 24 million rounds were fired on the grounds. At the height of its operation – the Korean War - 175,000 rounds were fired per month. From 1984-1994, JPG test fired 100,000 kg [220,462 lbs.] of tank penetrator rounds containing depleted uranium (DU). Despite some cleanup, the area still contains 154,324 lbs.] of DU and 1.5 million rounds of unexploded ordinance (UXO) In 2000, the Department of Defense worked out an arrangement with the US Fish and Wildlife Service which took over stewardship of the contaminated landscape and established the Big Oaks Wildlife Refuge on 51, 000 acres of the former proving ground. The land is too contaminated with DU and littered with so much unexploded ordnance that it can never be developed commercially or developed for human habitation. And so only a few areas have been cleared for human leisure activities and a few weekends a year, hunters are allowed on certain parcels. The landscape presents a paradox. It looks pristine but only because it’s so contaminated that much of it is a closed zone.
A closed zone with a sign marking the area as contaminated with depleted uranium from weapons testing. Big Oakes lies on grounds, which were once the Jefferson Proving Ground, which operated from 1941 – 1995 as a training ground for US Army weapons. More than 24 million rounds were fired on the grounds. At the height of its operation – the Korean War - 175,000 rounds were fired per month. From 1984-1994, JPG test fired 100,000 kg [220,462 lbs.] of tank penetrator rounds containing depleted uranium (DU). Despite some cleanup, the area still contains 154,324 lbs.] of DU and 1.5 million rounds of unexploded ordinance (UXO) In 2000, the Department of Defense worked out an arrangement with the US Fish and Wildlife Service which took over stewardship of the contaminated landscape and established the Big Oaks Wildlife Refuge on 51, 000 acres of the former proving ground. The land is too contaminated with DU and littered with so much unexploded ordnance that it can never be developed commercially or developed for human habitation. And so only a few areas have been cleared for human leisure activities and a few weekends a year, hunters are allowed on certain parcels. The landscape presents a paradox. It looks pristine but only because it’s so contaminated that much of it is a closed zone.
Veterans from an organization in Newark look to warn fisherman not to eat fish caught
in the Passaic River as it could be contaminated with dioxin from Vietnam War era Agent Orange production. During the 1960’s the Diamond Alkali Co. plant in Newark, NJ, produced Agent Orange for the US military and then dumped the surplus into the Passaic River where it settled into the riverbed stretching from Newark to Lyndhurst. The veterans were part of an organization in Newark which tried to set up a fish exchange whereby poisoned dioxin laden fish could be traded for clean, farmed Tilapia, but the program encountered numerous obstacles, and so the veterans tried instead to warn people, but often couldn’t find anyone fishing. The Passaic River is one of the most polluted in the country and is an EPA Superfund site. Clean up is estimated at well over $1 billion.
The Joseph Carmine de Jessa Memorial Bridge over the Passaic River connects the towns of Lyndhurst and Nutley, New Jersey. The bridge is named after a 19 year old US Marine who died from a mortar attack while deployed as a rifleman in Quang Tri, Vietnam, 1967. The bridge spans a part of the river contaminated with dioxin from Vietnam War era Agent Orange production. During the 1960’s the Diamond Alkali Co. plant in Newark, NJ, produced Agent Orange for the US military and then dumped the surplus into the Passaic River where it settled into the riverbed stretching from Newark to Lyndhurst. The dioxin contaminated the fish and contributes to the River’s designation as a superfund site. Clean up of the dioxin and other pollutants are estimated at well over $1 billion. The bridge is in a state of disrepair and slated for eventual replacement.
From the early 1970’s – 1999, Starmet, formerly called Nuclear Metals, processed depleted uranium into tank shells and armor for the US Army. Rather than dispose of the waste responsibly, it dumped depleted uranium and other poisons into an unlined lagoon contaminating the groundwater and at least two wells. Starmet also buried drums of waste into the earth, which when uncovered tested for high levels radioactivity. The site was located adjacent to the Thoreau Day camp. Clean up of the site began in 1997 and continues today under the EPA Superfund site listing. In 2002, Starmet declared bankruptcy leaving 20 times more depleted uranium on and under its 46 acres, than what was fired on Iraq during the first Gulf War. . Higher cases of cancer have been reported in Concord, compared to surrounding areas, however researchers cannot say that the site is the definitive cause. In 2007, residents had the zoning changed to residential so that the EPA cleanup would adhere to higher standards. Now a housing development catering to the above 55-year-old set, Black Birch is being built on the other side of the woods from the Starmet Superfund site.
Walden Pond, a national historic landmark, celebrated in the writings of Henry David Thoreau as a place of profound natural beauty, a “lower heaven” lies a few miles west of a Superfund site where Starmet, a military contractor, processed depleted uranium for the US Army to use in tank shells, then dumped the waste into the earth, the ground water and streams. The pond was spared.
A resident measures the sound from a EA-18G Growler one of 82 planes on the island where US Navy pilots train in electromagnetic warfare and low altitude touch and go landings. Residents say the sound has topped 130 decibels creating to negative health impacts including, anxiety, depression, and hearing loss. Outdoor activity is limited during training which can go well into the evening hours and occur several days a week. Several residents where giant ear muffs to protect themselves. The Navy wants to increase the fleet to 118 and has said that the planes are integral to winning the War on Terror.
Vietnam, 1987, was the first time I saw the effects of war; conjoined twins were lying on a bed, their bodies connected at the waist. In utero, they had absorbed dioxin, also called "agent orange.” In the photograph I made that day, one child holds a nurse's hand, the other fingers a cash bill offered in meek apology by a visiting U.S. war veteran.
The twins lived the pain of war even though they hadn't yet been born when the US introduced environmental destruction as a war tactic. Defoliate the landscape, and the enemy would have no place to hide. It was a chemical version of the old "smoke 'em out" strategy.
War is the dirtiest business in the world and the United States is the planet’s most prolific and chronic polluter.
Decades and generations after armed conflict ends, civilian populations live amid war's residue. Rarely is the American military held accountable. It dumps, it discharges and returns home, leaving someone else -‐ from the Philippines to Iraq, from Vieques to Okinawa-‐ to clean up the mess.
The situation within the United States is much the same. We live in a constant state of war's aftermath with vast stretches of the American landscape contaminated by the business of war and armed aggression: unexploded ordnance, toxic chemicals, depleted uranium, radioactive particles, a filthy legacy stretching from World War II to contemporary wars of democracy.
Scratch a cancer cluster or dive into a superfund site and the likelihood is that the US military played a role. Some of the history is known -‐ the down winders in the atomic west for example -‐ but a great deal more is obscured, covered up, artfully redefined, with the lasting impacts of environmental pollution rarely connected to armed conflict and the American war economy.
With the Aftermath grant, I will document the toxic legacy of war on the American landscape.
Crisscross the USA and one encounters places like Midland, Michigan, and the Tittabawassee River floodplain, where dioxin from agent orange production has poisoned the water and seeped into the soil. Residents are advised not to eat fish and game. Studies have found unusually high incidences of breast cancer.
Or travel to Niagara County, which was the site of the 1978 Love Canal disaster. An entire community was resettled after carcinogens were found in the water supply. The popular retelling blames Hooker Chemical for dumping pollutants yet a 273-page report by the NY State Assembly in 1981 reveals that Hooker was contracted by the US military and that the entire Niagara County region was used as a production hub for the Manhattan Project. Today, the people in Niagara still live the war's aftermath. One of the largest deposits of radioactive waste in the world lies smack in the middle of their community. Predictably, few businesses are willing to invest or purchase property for fear of what lies beneath.
Some towns have been completely abandoned, bought out by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) such as Treece, Kansas and Picher, Oklahoma. This area once provided 75% of the metals used for World War II bullets. Now it's a ghost town, contaminated with lead.
From World War II through the 1980's, members of the Navajo nation were enlisted to mine the uranium that drove America's Cold War against the USSR. Today, more than 521 abandoned mines lie scattered across 17 million acres of reservation land in Arizona and New Mexico.
Tests show that babies being born today have high levels of uranium in their blood and urine. Lung cancer is rampant. Meanwhile, clean up efforts are stalled, with private companies claiming the federal government is responsible and the federal government, woefully under funding their commitment. At the current pace, it would take 100 years before the mines are safely cleared.
The truth is that the amount of contamination from America's many wars, and continued military economy, is so vast, and so toxic, there is no possibility of wiping away this legacy.
And so, a recent strategy is to not even try, and instead, rebrand some former military sites as nature preserves. More than 23 million rounds of ammunition were fired at the Jefferson Proving Ground (JPG) in southern Indiana. During the Balkan campaign and the first Gulf War, those rounds were coated with depleted uranium, of which 77 tons now sit in the soil.
The JPG base closed in 1995 and the Department of Defense (DOD), in a nifty maneuver, transferred stewardship and responsibility of a piece of the former base to the US Fish and Wildlife agency. Just like that, a contamination zone was transformed into the Big Oaks Wildlife refuge. A metamorphosis dubbed "bombs to birds" by the refuge manager. To enter, visitors must first sign, an "acknowledgment of danger" form and are advised to only use cell phones while standing on paved surfaces to avoid detonating unexploded ordnance through cell phone radio waves.
"The Army never thought much about the future," a former site employee told the Courier-Journal. "They just wanted to test ammunition...No thought was given that you've ruined this land forever.
With the Aftermath grant I will document these histories, the landscapes, the communities around these sites and the individuals who bear witness to this American war legacy.
For the last 15 years I have been photographing the militarization of American life and the aftermath of war through close studies of severely wounded US veterans. Now it's time for me to consider war's impact on the land around me, the air, the earth and the water. Sadly, there is so much to see.
