On a cold wet day in January 1961, Lt Jack ReVelle climbed out of a muddy hole in the ground, holding a rough, grey sphere the size of a volleyball against his chest. For the better part of a week, he and his crew had been digging in the swampy ground outside of Goldsboro, North Carolina. It had been raining and snowing, and the hole had grown to be larger than a football field. Jack was just 25 years old, but he was in charge. When he and his men finally found what they were looking for, Jack was the one who got to climb up the ladder and bring it out.
Almost immediately, Jack flew back to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio. He landed in the late afternoon, and went to bed early. The next morning, he took a shower, sat down at a table in his apartment, and started to write a letter to his parents, who hadn’t heard from him for more than a week.

Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in