A Cloud Over My Hometown.

• Author: RICHMAN, JANA

They are burning chemical weapons in the valley where I grew up

The sun strikes my eyes at precisely the same moment the siren strikes my ears. As a child, I listened for a siren every weekday morning at 7:30, which notified workers at the Tooele Army Depot two miles away that they should be at their desks and ready to pick up their pencils. In those days, my mother was one of thousands of workers responding to the siren. The only sign of her in my morning was a hurriedly scribbled list of tasks I was to complete before the siren blew again at 4:30 P.M.

The depot officially closed in 1993, and the siren I hear now is not the one I grew up with. When this siren ends, a serious voice comes out of the heat of the encroaching sun, telling me I have just been warned. Had this been a real emergency, the voice says, I should have turned on my television or radio. This is enough to get me up and into the kitchen, where my mother, now retired, whips pancake batter.

When people ask me where I'm from, I tell them Tooele, Utah. I used to be able to count on a puzzled look. I liked the anonymity. But on August 22,1996, the federal government began the controversial operation of incinerating chemical weapons stockpiles. Since then, Tooele has graced the front pages of newspapers as far away as New York City and Washington, D.C. Many people have now heard of Tooele, but the town they envision is nothing like the town of my memory. The town they've read about is a chemical wasteland. The town I remember is filled with curbed and gutter-lined streets, smooth sidewalks perfect for roller-skating, and flower beds where irises and roses sprout from rich, dark dirt. I'm no longer sure which description is accurate.

The warning sirens--there are thirty-seven total--were put in place when the Tooele Chemical Agent Disposal Facility began the incineration process. County officials have several prerecorded messages ready to follow the siren in the case of a real emergency: "Go inside. Stay indoors. Close all windows and doors. Turn off all heating and air conditioners." Or: "Evacuate. Evacuation is required for your safety. Evacuate quickly and calmly north toward Interstate 80." There are three more variations to this message, depending on the wind's direction: "Evacuate south toward Eureka," "east toward Lehi," or "west toward Dugway."

My father, a retired schoolteacher and part-time rancher, comes into the kitchen and nudges my mother as she scoops batter onto the sizzling griddle.

"This could be it," he jokes over the garbled prerecorded message that blasts through the open windows. "This could be the big one. Better grab your gas mask."

"Umm-hmm," my mother replies, pushing him away with her elbow.

"Too bad we don't keep extra gas masks for visitors," my father says, eyeing me.

"What would you do if this were not just a warning?" I ask my father. He looks at me, laughs, and leaves the room as if the possibility were so remote as to render my words silly. I look at my mother. She shrugs. I persist.

"Do you have gas masks?" I ask.

"Heavens no!" she responds, as if I should know better.

"Why don't you do something?" I ask.

"What?" she asks me in return.

Since the 1940s, the federal government has been stockpiling chemical weapons in Tooele County. Before the incineration process began, the American people were the proud owners of about 12.5 million pounds of blister agent (mustard gas), about twelve million pounds of GB nerve agent (also called sarin gas), and about 2.7 million pounds of VX nerve agent stored in cartridges, ton containers, projectiles, rockets, and bombs buried in my backyard--the largest stockpile in the nation. Since 1996, about 28 percent of the stockpile has gone up in smoke.

When GB nerve agent is inhaled, a dose equal to the size of Washington's eye on a quarter can cause hyper-excretion of fluids from the eyes, nose, and mouth, involuntary urination, muscle spasms, convulsions, and eventually death. VX nerve agent, most hazardous when absorbed through the skin, interferes with the signals sent from the brain to the body's vital organs. If VX enters the body, convulsions and death can result. Mustard gas causes inflammation of the eyes, nose, throat, trachea, bronchi, and lung tissue, and blisters the skin. It can also be lethal.

But the controversy goes beyond the possibility of a major nerve gas spill. Being exposed over a long period of time to incinerator dioxins released into the air or accumulating in the food chain could result in cancer, immune system damage, reproductive problems, and birth defects. The Army reassures Tooele residents that the...