surveys — for strategic needs, moorage, public opinion, etc. We read about it in the papers.” Kitsap County has had the Navy for its “industry” since the turn of the century. So with the announcement of Trident’s arrival, its officials, working with the congressional delegation, organized a Trident coordination office to prepare for the impact. “We put together an estimate of our needs and our anticipated growth. The [U.S.] government made a $100 million contribution to the community. Our major industry pays no taxes. So during that surge of growth we were covered.” The project was immense. “Between 1975 and ’80, they invested a billion dollars. It’s one of the biggest bases ever built. The first sub arrived in 1982, and another one is scheduled to arrive annually over the next 10 years.” John maintains that there has been very little difference of opinion on the “issue” of Trident since the beginning. “A poll taken in 1974, at the tail end of the Boeing depression, showed 74% favorable ... of the remaining 26%, this has always been a retirment community, people who didn’t want to see it change. Only a small local minority opposed it outright.” He estimates the opposition has increased by 5% over the years. He feels the problem is basically lack of understanding. “Those of us in planning knew the impacts. They didn’t know.” I ask him if he feels comfortable being so clearly a target, for the ground zero designation seems most appropriate for Kitsap. “We were always one of the top targets. Thank goodness people are becoming more concerned about the arms race.” This man is a politician! I finally ask about the Pagoda. The Buddhists want to reconstruct at Ground Zero, and though the Commissioners have unanimously ruled against them, a Seattle judge has just recently declared the Commissioners’ The Ground Zero Dojo of the Nihonzan Myohoji order just before its dedication position of “non-conforming use” invalid. John speaks for the Commissioners: “Our conclusion was that it just wouldn’t fit in the community. The test of that is that the proposed use not be unreasonably incompatible.” I ask why a pagoda is incompatible. “It’s in a rural area, and a high volume of activity was anticipated. And number two, it’s avowed purpose was to in essence close down the Trident base. They wanted to wipe out their neighbors. They were seeking confrontation.” Conversation at an end, I walk down the hill to the Retsil. More people are on my return voyage, most of them going to work at the shipyards. They seem more social than those I'd seen going the other way. Many already wore their Naval Shipyard identification badges. There are many more minority people here than in other similar sized communities in the Northwest. The Navy makes a big thing about “Equal Opportunity” hiring. No one looks at the shipyard as we pass by. X Before leaving Bremerton, I pause for a bite and open the Dalmo’ma Anthology my brother had given me. Skimming through the pages, I land on the poem “Bangor,” by Tom Jay. It’s populated with people around here, a housewife in Poulsbo, a workmate in Bremerton, a young woman scuba diving in Hood Canal and a young man returning from Seattle on the ferry. Their problems are their own, their lives tranquil. It’s the mundane world we all inhabit. Yet Jay adds a twist: When it comes it will be quick. The heat will peel your old sweetheart like a grape. Light blinded she searches bravely for her moaning children. One by one they are destroyed, and the corporeal world we share with them is mutated beyond our wildest nightmares. Not one bomb, many bombs would fall. Yes, it’s true, the bottom line of all this activity is “wiping out our neighbors,” our fellow citizens on this, our only planet. It gives pause. XI Driving out of Bremerton, past the miles of fence that separate the citizenry from their employer, I begin to understand where our tax dollars are going. Commissioner Horsley had told me that Trident had precipitated an increase in Naval Shipyard employment from 7000 to 12,000. Overall county population has increased 60,000 in the decade since the Trident announcement. Stopping above a submarine bay, I get out to take a picture through the fence. Suddenly I feel like a spy, though I’m breaking no law and lack malicious intent. As my investigation proceeds, Trident is growing multifaceted before me, though it remains invisible. I drive toward the Bangor Base, passing by the exits to Trigger Avenue and to the Naval Undersea AMOR EL-KHAYAM RESTAURANT It took 2000 years to improve this bed. 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