Operation Sea Spray

Semi-retired surgical nurse Irene Callahan mostly enjoyed her short, late-night shifts at Stanford University Hospital. They matched her husband’s volunteer shifts and allowed her to sleep in.

The fateful day in November of 1976 began like any other.

“How was your weekend, Irene?”

Irene looked up from her steaming cup of chai tea into the eyes of up-and-coming ER nurse Sarah. Irene smiled warmly, “It was lovely, dear. Harlan and I had brunch with some friends on Saturday and babysat the grandkids on Sunday. Did you and Jacob get up to anything?”

“You mean in the five seconds I wasn’t here?” Sarah laughed. “It’s fine, though. We need the overtime if we want to reach our down payment goals by next year.”

Irene chuckled at Sarah’s signature hair flip as the younger nurse skipped away.

A flash of red from the waiting room TV caught her eye as she carefully sipped her hot tea from behind the registration desk.

No patients waited, so she swiveled toward the TV. A large, scrolling headline looped underneath a frantic reporter:

“JOURNALIST UNCOVERS SECRET GOVERNMENT EXPERIMENT FROM 1950. OPERATION SEA SPRAY INFECTED SAN FRANCISCO AND KILLED ELDERLY MAN. FULL COVERAGE AT 11.”

Irene’s gut lurched as something pricked in the back of her mind. 1950 was her first year as a nurse, and it was most eventful.

***

Irene stood idly in the back of the emergency room's reception area, unsure of where she should be and unsure who to ask. She breathed in deeply as she felt the familiar knot of anxiety building in her chest.

“Focus, Irene. Just ask anyone, you’re new, no one’s judging.”

She lifted her hands to rub her temples as she glanced out the small window to clear her mind. She focused on the thick, rolling fog moving swiftly through the streets of San Francisco. The Cold War had everyone panicking, but it sure was warm outside. She thought of how nice it would be when a storm finally broke the humidity.

Before she could decide who she would approach, a voice startled her from behind.

“Irene, I have a routine surgery being prepped right now, I’d like you to observe.”

She turned and locked eyes with Dr. Carson, the head of surgery at Stanford Hospital. Her heart fluttered, her first surgery - she’d remember it for the rest of her life.

“Sure thing, Doctor Carson, I’m coming.”

Dr. Carson prepped her with the details as they made their way to the operating room. “Edward Nevin, aged 75, routine prostate surgery, simple and low risk.”

Irene admired the man’s direct professionalism and hoped that one day she would also be as respected and revered as he was in this hospital.

***

Although she’d assisted and participated in thousands of surgeries over her career, her first one always stood out. Shortly after the surgery, the gentleman was readmitted to the hospital with an infection. Not uncommon, especially in an elderly patient, but it hadn’t stopped there.

Irene wandered into the hospital’s pharmacy and picked up a copy of that day’s paper. She quickly found the headline she sought:

Invisible War Game That Killed

The Army believed the bacterium was harmless when it released it. Then a man died.

By John Cummings and Drew Fetherston.

Irene felt her heart go cold. She raised her right hand to her mouth. “Then a man died,” she mumbled, eyes bugged as she read the line over and over again. She felt a sweat break out on her brow as she read the article at lightning speed.

“On the afternoon of Sept. 26, 1950, the U.S. Army conducted an experiment to test San Francisco’s vulnerability to a germ warfare attack. A little more than a month later, one man was dead and five other patients were infected at a local hospital by the same kind of bacterium that was used in the test. Despite this, the Army continued similar experiments for as long as 10 years, including, according to one researcher, a test in the New York Subway System.

The so-called “vulnerability test” involved the release into the air of a bacterium called Serratia marcescens, to see whether winds in the San Francisco Bay area would carry germs into the city.”

The ice in her chest spread down her spine as she re-read the name of the bacteria at least twenty times. That strange and rare bacteria was the exact reason she remembered the case of Edward Nevin so clearly.

***

On her 12th straight day of work, Irene’s eyes drooped, her muscles had fatigued, and her mind felt worn. A significant portion of the short-staffed team was working overtime to help patients affected by this bizarre outbreak. Though not scheduled for another hour, Irene had to take her break early. Her feet were failing her.

She wandered into the break room to see two unfamiliar doctors speaking quietly over the coffee pot. Their green badges marked them as research staff—people she rarely met. Curious what they were so hushed about, Irene took a seat as close to them as she could without being conspicuous. She focused her gaze on the newspapers strewn about the table, but her ears were fixed on the duo.

“Serratia marcescens, that’s what they said. It’s so rare, most never even know it exists, let alone encounter it multiple times in their career, -let alone- multiple times in a single month!” One whispered harshly as Irene tuned in mid-sentence.

“What do you think it means?” The other asked, stirring their coffee rapidly.

“Something’s off, but I can’t for the life of me think of what could be going on. I intend to investigate this further. I want a piece about this in a Journal, at the very least.” The woman tapped her fingernails pensively on her clipboard.

“Hmph.” The coffee drinker murmured, pausing. “If you’re putting together a team, count me in.”

Irene saw the other nod in her peripheral vision as the two left the break room, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts.

“Dr. Carson!” Irene caught the senior doctor’s attention as she passed him on her way back to her workstation.

“Hello Irene, do you need some help?”

“No, sir, not exactly. But do you know about this weird, rare infection?”

Dr. Carson’s eyes flashed with something Irene couldn’t quite decipher. “No more than anyone else. But the research team is looking at it.”

Irene felt a spark in her gut. The researcher from the break room said most people never encounter this. How incredible is it that she would begin her career at such a groundbreaking time?

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Irene asked, but by 'help,' she really meant 'learn.'

“Not really, I don’t think. If you’d like, you can go see how Mr. Nevin is doing.”

The excitement in her gut dampened. “Is that what he has?”

“I’m afraid so. Unfortunately, the recovery period following surgery is when many are most susceptible to infection. He is stable, however.”

“Okay, thank you, Dr.”

More days passed, and the doctors and nurses alike became increasingly stunned as even more individuals were admitted with the rare infection. Although scary, there was a unique energy in the hospital as many personnel, including older and more experienced doctors, faced something entirely new and unfamiliar.

Any excited interest in the subject promptly dissipated the day Edward Nevin passed away.

***

To this day, Irene thought of the kind old man fondly. Though she was always busy as a young nurse, their quick but friendly exchanges brightened her day.

For weeks following the breaking story, everyone stayed glued to the news. It felt surreal, like living in a Cold War thriller. The city watched in collective dismay as things unraveled more with each newly discovered secret. Journalists rose to notoriety as government skeletons were yanked from closets and paraded in print. Uproar spread through the public. Everyone wanted answers. Demanded accountability. The government and the military took none, of course.

Irene yet again found herself absorbed in the latest story when a harsh voice broke into her thoughts.

“Hello! Can anyone help me?” Asked a loud, frantic voice.

Irene peeled her eyes away from the TV and looked up at the man before her. “Sorry, sir, what can I do for you?”

The man wasted no time on pleasantries. “I’d like to make a formal request for access to my grandfather’s medical records.”

“Sure, can I get your name, please? I’ll also need your ID and we’ll have to draft some paperwork.”

“Edward Nevin III.”

Irene sat up straighter. “You are a descendant of Edward Nevin.” There was little use in posing it as a question.

“Yes, ma’am. I saw his name in the news connected to this warfare testing business. I have some questions.”

“I imagine you do. We’re still unraveling everything here, but it has become rather clear that Operation Sea Spray killed your grandfather.”

“Yes,” he began, determined eyes boring into hers, “I intend to sue the United States Government.”

Irene nodded. “You have a strong case, sir.”

*******

Author's note:

I chose to render this event into a fictional story simply because short stories are my favourite thing to write! But this was a very real event. I fictionalized a few characters and small elements, but Edward Nevin, Edward Nevin III, Drew Fetherston, and John Cummings were real people.

Edward Nevin III did pursue legal action. Although he appealed many times, he did ultimately lose the case, and the family received no compensation. But, they fought hard and shed light on the situation in the process.