Ruth Marshak at Los Alamos

Tech was a pit that swallowed up
my husband, day and night, and left
his better half, an untrained soldier, fighting
heartache. Finally I gave up
waiting dinner. Often he came home
at three or four a.m. Or not at all.
He said since all we had were Army cots,
he might as well sleep in the lab.
I think the Army knew what it was doing
when it only gave us single beds.
What made it worse was that this sacrifice
was not a sacrifice for him. He loved
his work. It overcame all scruples,
all familial feeling. Few of us knew
the thing our husbands sought,
its magnitude, or why it had aroused
such passion. "There's a war on, love," Bob said
each time I asked, until I learned
to shut my mouth, and wait, and spend my energy
on the mechanics of my daily life.
The alternation of the seasons: mud
to dust and back to mud. Teaching
third grade prima donna kids.
Learning to cook at 7,000 feet
with vegetables and fruits long past
their prime. A total absence
of fresh eggs. I chose my battles. This was one
that I could win. I howled for months
until the Army veterinarian agreed
to candle every egg before it hit
the commissary shelves. I'd had enough
of finding grim reminders
of what they wanted to become, and failed.

Ruth Marshak accompanied her husband, physicist Robert Marshak, to Los Alamos. Like many of the scientists' spouses, she was not privy to the purpose of the work being done there.

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