Glimmer of Lights: The Story of Atomic Veteran Tim Snider
Glimmer of Lights: The Story of Atomic Veteran Tim Snider
Some stories remain hidden, shrouded in silence, waiting for a glimmer of light to reveal their truth. Tim Snider’s account of his service on Enewetak Atoll in 1977 is one such story—a tale of sacrifice, pride, and the quest for recognition that echoes through the ages.
Enewetak Atoll, part of the Marshall Islands, was a remote stage for nuclear testing after World War II, with the devastation of radioactive contamination lingering long after the final blast. By 1977, the world could no longer ignore this radioactive legacy, and a coalition of U.S. military forces and civilian support teams, including Tim Snider, was called upon to embark on a mission to clean up the debris—an endeavor that would leave an indelible mark on their lives.
Tim Snider, an Air Force veteran with AFSC 90750, found himself thrust into this cleanup mission in 1979. Like so many others who arrived at Enewetak, he knew little about the mission or the dangers it posed. The nature of his deployment was kept under wraps. His description, "Airman, go!", encapsulates the lack of information he and his comrades faced. Yet, in the absence of knowledge, they embraced their duty with the same sense of pride instilled in them by the generation before them.
Tim’s role included working with the FRST (Field Radiological Survey Team), conducting radiological surveys of the atoll. Though this wasn’t his primary responsibility, it became an integral part of his experience on the atoll. However, the reality of their mission was far from what they expected. Safety gear, virtually nonexistent throughout their time on Enewetak, only appeared briefly for a military photograph, where they were outfitted in protective clothing and respirators. The image captured for posterity was an exception, not the norm.
As time passed, the lack of transparency surrounding their work became glaringly apparent. Tim and his fellow servicemen were asked to submit blood samples, raising suspicions, especially when questions about the purpose of these tests were met with vague or evasive responses. Their health and safety were clearly not the primary concern. To this day, adequate medical records from their time on Enewetak remain elusive.
In 2011, Tim’s health took a dramatic turn when he was diagnosed with bone tumors. Initially diagnosed as benign fibrosis, the tumors have persisted, leaving him in a state of medical limbo, with no clear diagnosis or explanation. His journey for answers led him to the Atomic Cleanup Veterans page, where he discovered a community of fellow veterans who shared similar struggles—individuals also seeking recognition for their service and the health impacts they now face.
Throughout his narrative, Tim’s pride in his service shines through. He wore the uniform proudly, inspired by the support his father’s generation received from the VA. But upon returning home, the reality he encountered was starkly different. Tim’s frustration with the lack of support from the VA is palpable. His experience mirrored that of countless other veterans who felt abandoned by the very government they had served. He now lends his voice to the growing chorus demanding justice for veterans—both past and present—who have been forgotten by the system.
Tim Snider’s story is more than just a personal journey; it is a reflection of the experiences of many Atomic Cleanup Veterans. It is a story of sacrifice, pride, and silence, but most importantly, it is a story of unwavering determination. These veterans, who once worked in the shadows of atomic fallout, are now demanding to be seen and heard. Tim’s voice, and the voices of so many like him, continue to echo, fueled by the hope that one day their sacrifices will be fully acknowledged and that justice will finally be served.
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