The Manhattan Project Heritage Preservation Association, Inc.

"Preserving, Exhibiting, Interpreting and Teaching the History of the Manhattan Project"

Back to Directory

Fran to her Mother, Lena Carroll, July 16, 1945  Oak Ridge, TN

( On a working trip to Oakridge from NYC)

(from Dunmore Hall 118, Oakridge, Tennessee)

 Dear Mother,

 Are either of these “13” the ones to which you refer?  I meant to write to Phyl immediately to see what she has but haven’t written to anyone since arriving here.  We’re going through a dazing experience.  Bobbie & I & three fellows were all the Co. could get to volunteer to come down here at first.  They eventually rounded up several more To Meet A Great Emergency which we haven’t located yet.  But Bobbie and I from the beginning have yearned to see this place.  We are impressed.

 It’s not been hotter than New York & the nights are extra cool.  But all in all I do not think I would care to stay here longer than the scheduled month.  There’s a haze of dust over the valley.  The drinking water is heavily chlorinated.  No butter, no dark bread, no chocolate ice cream.  But you can get an excellent steak any night in the evening.  All kinds of meat.  On night shift, there’s practically nothing to eat.  Bobbie and I held out for day shift, but the rest of the kids went patriotic & so we are all on rotating shifts—7 days on days, a day off, seven days graveyard, day off, & 7 swing shift & then 80 hours off.  At that point we intend to take off for the Smokey Mountains.

 Wish I could find the one man who declared a state of emergency & ask him if he feels a relaxation of the tension now that we’re here.  You have to keep reminding yourself that they have accomplished all that’s been accomplished here so far—And that’s plenty.  The GI’s want to know how we can complain since we’re going back to NY—we got round trip tickets, by the way.  They stay.  But its hard work—this hanging around.  Every once in a while whilst contemplating a valve I am amazed that I am in the middle of this Area in this building in the middle of Tennessee.

 The trees and bushes that grow from the red dirt are green!  There are people from every state in the union.  The masses are southern.  We are hardly able to understand some of them, their speech is so southern accented.  A week ago Sat. we went on a moonlight ride on the Tennessee River; we’ve been swimming at Big Ridge, the Jones Beach of Oakridge.  Haven’t been to Norris Dam proper yet.

 The main reason I didn’t use the other half of my ticket immediately on discovering shift work is that Bill Allman’s down here.  He was shipped to this spot in the beginning of January.  This is known as the sure cure—I’m considering applying for a job in the Philippines in the fall—You get your way paid to & from if you promise to stay a year.  Only thing is it’s civil service. And after the Navy Yard, I stated I would never again be a part of civil service.

 On the one hand, Oakridge is like a never-ending carnival—dances on tennis courts, juke boxes in all the cafeterias, bus terminals broadcasting to the countryside, recreation halls in every section.

 On the other hand to live here permanently might be depressing—trailers, prefabricated houses, dormitories, barracks.

 I don’t have the stamps with me but will send them tomorrow—absolutely.

                                         Love, Fran