Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 10:59 a.m. No.13814589   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4593 >>4663

>>13814415

>>>13813528 (You) FAUCI'S WIFE'S FATHER WORKED AT M&M MARS, INC.

AND NORTHROP GRUMMAN (THIOKOL CHEMICAL/AEROSPACE)

 

Thiokol Explosion: 50 Years Later, Families Seek To Be Remembered

 

February 4, 2021

 

https://www.gpb.org/news/2021/02/04/thiokol-explosion-50-years-later-families-seek-be-remembered

 

https://thecurrentga.org/2021/02/03/scenes-video-thiokol-plant-explosion-50th-anniversary/

 

HOLY SHIT.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:02 a.m. No.13814600   🗄️.is 🔗kun

>>13814593

 

There are no Purple Hearts or Medals of Honor for the dozens killed and maimed while fighting the Vietnam War from Woodbine a half century ago.

 

Those killed and maimed weren’t wearing uniforms like the thousands of Georgians deployed aboard during the war. They were mostly poor, Black women who worked for $1.65 an hour assembling trip flares for the U.S. Army at the Thiokol Chemical Corp. munitions plant.

 

People were overjoyed at the prospects of a full-time job, a rare find for women and Black people in Coastal Georgia at the time.

 

Hattie Fogle was 19 when she went to work at Thiokol. It’s taken decades for her to be able to talk about the explosion.

 

Workers like Hattie Fogle, who was a 19-year-old single mother when she went to work for Thiokol, didn’t know just how dangerous the job was until that gruesome day 50 years ago when a fire sparked an explosion so powerful that it shook the Earth for miles around.

 

The blast killed 29 of her coworkers including her brother and a sister-in-law. It maimed her cousin who lost an arm and was badly burned. It scarred the hundreds of others who survived.

 

“I can still feel a pain from it,” Fogle said, adding that it’s taken years to be able to talk about the catastrophe without weeping. “I’m able to voice it and not break down. You’ve got people that can’t tell the stories for themselves, so you have to be the one.”

 

The 50th anniversary ceremony honoring victims of the Thiokol explosion is set for 10 a.m. Wednesday at Chris Gilman Stadium in Kingsland. It is being organized by the Thiokol Memorial Project, a museum dedicated to one of America’s worst industrial accidents, but one that is largely unknown and unrecognized even in Georgia.

 

Ongoing nightmares about charred corpses, the physical agony of burn scars and missing limbs plus an exhausting 17-year court battle with the company and U.S. government kept the survivors from speaking much about the traumas they have endured. Yet as Georgia starts a new reckoning with racial injustice, the survivors have found their voice. They want their sacrifice on behalf of the war effort and workers’ rights finally honored after decades in which their stories and their struggles have been left out of history books.

 

“These people were poor. Many of them were people of color. Twenty-one women was killed that day. How could you miss that after all these years? Those children grew up without their mothers,” said Jannie Everette, whose 81-year-old mother is one of the Thiokol survivors. She has dedicated the past six years of her life to the small museum in downtown Kingsland to ensure that Georgians don’t forget the catastrophe.

 

https://www.gpb.org/news/2021/02/04/thiokol-explosion-50-years-later-families-seek-be-remembered

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:15 a.m. No.13814663   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4666

>>13814589

America Goes To War

 

Residents of Coastal Georgia remember 1964 as the year Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. won the Nobel Peace Prize, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act. It was also the year the U.S. leader and Georgia Gov. Carl Sanders visited Woodbine for the grand opening of what reporters at the time called the “first Georgia space plant.”

 

The land, some 7,500 acres on Horse Pen Bluff, was a plantation before the development. The site offered deep water access to Cape Canaveral in Florida where the government was starting its space program. Thiokol was part of that endeavor with a $23 million contract to make solid fuel rocket boosters for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

 

By 1969, communities like Woodbine had not seen much of the promised changes that the Civil Rights Act was meant to bestow. Land was being cleared to make way for Interstate 95. Good jobs were in short supply and Thiokol just began to hire women.

 

The Vietnam War was a full-blown conflict, chewing up hundreds of American lives each month. So when Thiokol won a contract to supply the U.S. Army with 750,000 trip flares and CS-gas at the Woodbine plant, Fogle remembers the community rippling with excitement about new, full-time opportunities, especially for women. Until the plant opened, she and her kin had been traveling to Brunswick for piecemeal work at King Shrimp. Now, they had a chance to earn a paycheck and help their country.

 

“It was an opportunity for women to do better,” Fogle said. “I could go to work, come home and provide for my child. There were times when we went to the shrimp factory and if the shrimps weren’t there in my department, I went home early. So there was not a guaranteed 40-hour paycheck.”

 

Fogle went to work each day along with her brother, sister-in-law and two cousins. Each worked on the factory line where workers transformed raw explosive material into the deadly munitions that U.S. infantrymen would use to defend their own lives.

 

Fogle’s specialty was putting the safety pins in the trip flares, a job that required using an air gun with a foot pump to insert the pin. One day, that air gun malfunctioned.

 

“The trip flare blew up in my hand and they had to catch me because I just, because we were told, If somebody hollers, ‘Fire!’ and you hear ‘Boom,’ run. Get out and they’ll tell you when to come back in,” she said. “But when you’ve got something in your hand and it goes off, the first thing I did was start running. … We’d done that many times.”

 

Survivors remember Thiokol didn’t offer much in the way of safety training. They largely left matters up to the workers. So when sparks would fly, the women working the line almost reflexively evacuated while their male coworkers rushed in to extinguish the flames.

 

They all returned to work each time, treating the risk as part of the job.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:15 a.m. No.13814666   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4668

>>13814663

“It was after the explosion that we found out just how dangerous the stuff we were working with was,” Fogle said. “Thiokol didn’t know the danger. The workers didn’t know.”

 

What Thiokol told its employees is what the U.S. Army had told the company: The magnesium trip flares contained a Class 2 explosive, a flammable material. Only later, when the factory had been reduced to cinders, did it become known that the army had failed to inform the company that the material had been upgraded to a Class 7 explosive, the most dangerous classification. The classifications determine how the materials are handled and stored.

 

The memo about the upgraded classification never made it to anyone at Thiokol. It had been written on a paper note that was discovered in a bottom drawer of an Army officer’s desk sometime after the disaster.

 

“The thing that really did it was, this guy just didn’t pass it on,” said Arnold Young, a lawyer for HunterMaclean who sat in on the federal trials on behalf of a company that was not part of the lawsuit. “That’s what caused the disaster … It’s like everything else in the world: somebody just simply screwed up.”

 

Had Thiokol received the memo, it would have had to make many changes in the way it stored and handled the materials, a key cause of the explosion.

'I Still Feel Myself On Fire Sometimes'

 

Fires and evacuations were so routine at Thiokol, that when a small flame was spotted on the assembly line in Building M-132 shortly before 11 a.m. on Feb. 3, 1971, many employees on the factory’s morning shift left their stations, but didn’t move very far away from the building.

 

That mistake would prove fatal.

 

The flames quickly spread to ignition pellets used to build the munitions and then to the next door curing room where about 8,000 pounds of illuminants made of magnesium and sodium nitrate were being stored. Also in the curing room were 56,322 candles containing approximately 0.3 pounds of illuminant each; 18,472 ignition pellets, and 100 pounds of first fire and intermediate mix, according to court records.

 

Three to four minutes after the fire broke out, the building exploded with such magnitude that witnesses reported seeing a mushroom cloud from miles away.

 

The Earth shook up and down the Georgia-Florida coastline.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:16 a.m. No.13814668   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4672

>>13814666

digits.

 

What Thiokol told its employees is what the U.S. Army had told the company: The magnesium trip flares contained a Class 2 explosive, a flammable material. Only later, when the factory had been reduced to cinders, did it become known that the army had failed to inform the company that the material had been upgraded to a Class 7 explosive, the most dangerous classification. The classifications determine how the materials are handled and stored.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:17 a.m. No.13814672   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4674

>>13814668

At the time, few towns in America had what we now know as Emergency Services, but Jacksonville Fire Department was among the first in the country to train its staff on basic life-saving measures like CPR. It sprung into action to help save lives in the Thiokol blaze.

 

Meanwhile, workers who had cars at the plant drove the injured and dead to 14 different hospitals. Area funeral homes sent hearses to use as ambulances.

 

Interstate 95 had yet to be completed between Savannah and Jacksonville, and the convoy of vehicles had to traverse the dirt-packed Highway 17 to reach the plant and ferry the wounded to towns in Florida and as far away as Savannah.

 

More than 600 people from 16 municipalities along with the U.S. Navy, Air Force and Coast Guard responded to the emergency.

 

Fogle had worked the night shift at Building M-132, and was at home at the time of the explosion. The scenes of the aftermath she described witnessing were akin to a soldier’s trek across a battlefield.

 

Bodies shrouded with white sheets were laid out in a row at Gilman Hospital in St. Mary’s. Her cousin, Flossie Massey McVeigh, had been burned beyond recognition. Some of her coworkers writhed in agony, some missing limbs.

 

Her sister-in-law, Betty R. Dawson Burch, also was killed in the explosion.

 

Her brother, Charles Burch, escaped the plant with their uncle. But then he ran back to the burning building to search for his wife. When the fire had been extinguished, their uncle identified Charles’ corpse by his shoes. His body had been trapped under a fallen beam. The young man had started working only a week earlier and had not even drawn a paycheck.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:17 a.m. No.13814674   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4682

>>13814672

A Long Legal Battle

 

The days and months after the explosion are a blur of pain and suffering for the survivors.

 

The families of Woodbine were left alone to bury their loved ones and nurse their relatives’ horrific injuries. Few had any health insurance. The wounded had no way to continue earning a living.

 

The company resumed operations five months after the explosion while some survivors remained in hospital.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:18 a.m. No.13814682   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4693

>>13814674

Later that year, lawyers came to town promising to do right by the workers. They filed a lawsuit against Thiokol on behalf of Flossie Massey and other Thiokol employees, dependents of Thiokol employees or next-of-kin, seeking $550 million in damages.

 

That kicked off a 17-year legal drama that eventually led to changes in America’s tort reform law, but did little to tamp the raw pain and sense of injustice among the Woodbine families.

 

The cases started in 1974, but it took three years for Savannah Judge Alexander Lawrence, to issue a ruling. Thiokol and the U.S. government shared liability for the deaths and maiming of the workers, but Thiokol’s payments would be capped by the state’s workmen’s compensation law. The company’s insurance paid out the survivors of the dead factory workers.

 

The government fought the ruling in appeals courts for the next five years.

Anonymous ID: 21afce June 2, 2021, 11:22 a.m. No.13814693   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>4712

>>13814682

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thiokol

 

Thiokol (variously Thiokol Chemical Corporation, Morton-Thiokol Inc., Cordant Technologies Inc., Thiokol Propulsion, AIC Group, ATK Thiokol, ATK Launch Systems Group; finally Orbital ATK before becoming part of Northrop Grumman) was an American corporation concerned initially with rubber and related chemicals, and later with rocket and missile propulsion systems. Its name is a portmanteau of the Greek words for sulfur (θεῖον "theion") and glue (κόλλα "kolla"), an allusion to the company's initial product, Thiokol polymer.

 

The Thiokol Chemical Company was founded in 1929. Its initial business was a range of synthetic rubber and polymer sealants. Thiokol was a major supplier of liquid polymer sealants during World War II. When scientists at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory discovered that Thiokol's polymers made ideal binders for solid rocket fuels, Thiokol moved into the new field, opening laboratories at Elkton, Maryland, and later production facilities at Elkton and at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, Alabama. Huntsville produced the XM33 Pollux, TX-18 Falcon, and TX-135 Nike-Zeus systems. It closed in 1996. In the mid-1950s the company bought extensive lands in Utah for its rocket test range. In 1986 it was found at fault for the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster.[1] Thiokol continues to have major operations in the state, at Magna, Wasatch County, and Promontory (manufacturer of the Space Shuttle's solid rocket motors), and its current headquarters at Brigham City. As of 2005 the company employed over 15,000 people worldwide and records annual sales of around US$840 million.