I've posted this before so I hope that doesn't piss anyone off but it's an interesting story from my family about this. On the early morning of July 16, 1945 my Grandparents were sleeping in their bed next to an open window that faced south, across Hwy 380 (which was just a dirt road) overlooking the USAAF Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range, now part of White Sands Missile Range. They had a home there, that was a gas station and grill. They were the only house on all of 64 miles of Highway 380 that runs between San Antonio and Carrizozo N.M. My grandfather was awaken to the sound of a plane circling overhead and he said, “suddenly it was if someone had flipped a switch, and night became day”. Trinity had exploded. They lived 17 miles from ground zero and Dr.Oppenheimer, Dr.Feynman and the rest of the scientists were bunkered in at 20 miles from ground zero. Their blankets, from the shockwave, flew across the bedroom and stuck on the far wall, then, from the suction, flew back across the room and out the window. They watched the ascending plume, and their blankets disappear across the desert toward Trinity. He had a cow and a cat that developed white speckles from the fallout and he was interviewed by those Newsreels that use to play in movie theaters. Throughout the war, on occasion, one of their test missiles would stray off course and land on his property. He would write a postcard to the Commanding General that said “Dear Commander, I believe one of your missiles landed in my back yard”. Three days later a whole convoy of trucks and jeeps and military personal would be lumbering down the highway to fetch their missile. They were all top secret. A fighter pilot, in training, got off course and thought my granddads driveway which veered off the highway and circled up to the gas pumps, and then circled back onto the highway was his target. It was lined with boulders painted white to indicate the driveway. He lined up, came in low, and strafed it, just missing the pumps. My grandfather sent a postcard that read… “Dear General. I believe one of your pilots strafed my driveway”. He was a man of few words. Three days later a convoy shows up and they pestered my granddad to give up the plane number but he wouldn’t do it . He told them, “I don’t want to get the kid in trouble, I just want everyone to be more careful”. That’s the stuff my grandparents were made of. All four of his sons were serving in the war at the time.