Perhaps he was a bit more apprehensive and anxious these days than ne nad been in tne past, not only because he was 32 years old-- " Yvather young by Micronesian standards to carry the responsibility of magistrate-—but also because he had been told a disturbing thing by the wawaiian field trip officer on the most recent field trip ship. Tne officer, indicating the last segment of his finger with his thumb, bad told Jonn that,"Your life line is about that long.'' hin John asked why if they knew there was some kind of danger to the people--they were not removed from the island. orders.'' The officer replied, "We have no But it was unlikely that at this time on this morning John consciously remembered the remark, as he would recall it later. every day, there were many things to do. As on Besides, it was hard to conceive of a threat to anyone's safety unless it would be from a natural disaster like a typhoon and the weather signs indicated no such pending phenomenon. A sense of calmness and peace must have pervaded the Island of Utirik many miles to the east, yet they, too, soon would share a common, unfortunate bond with their neighbors to the west. It was, in fact, hard to imagine anything threatening on that tranquil morning in the Pacific. Rongelap was home. Rongelap was security. Rongelap, traditional part of the Kalik or western chain, was stability. as a The sun always rose on the "Ratak'' or eastern chain of islands which included Utirik Atoll, and set in the "Ralik'' or western chain where Rongelap lay. Ynat morning, however, the sun would first rise in the west. Some 30 miles east of Rongelap on that morning, twenty-three white and five black U.S. servicemen stirred uneasily in their RadSafe aluminum Wm gh io333”