ANDERSON — Rubble and debris outlined the borders of a bleached concrete floor stretching for hundreds of yards in every direction. The bare surface both reflected and absorbed the overhead sun, creating an oppressive heat.
Tim Bowers pointed out a number of crumbling structures on the property and provided a brief history for each before disappearing into a nearby tree line to unearth the past.
This isn’t the first time Bowers has visited the former site of a fallout shelter. His first expedition was made while employed by the businessman who once owned the property.
Details regarding fallout shelters in Madison County are limited due to their secrecy during construction and establishment, but those that remain intact are a reminder of a Cold War Era involving nuclear weaponry.
Fears surrounding a possible nuclear attack have once again surfaced amid the uncertainty of the nation’s relationship with North Korea and Iran — countries which both have the ability to produce nuclear missiles.
The start of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union originated not long after the Soviets tested a nuclear bomb in 1949. A terrifying standoff was created between the two countries, and residents began to fear an imminent attack.
When Soviet missiles were found in Cuba in October 1962, the nation began to prepare citizens in earnest for a nuclear attack. Federal assistance and supplies were made publicly available to those looking to build shelters.
On Nov. 21, 1962, there were 169 buildings in Madison County designated as public fallout shelters, providing accommodations for 60,789 people. Census records for that time period show the combined population of the county’s major cities and towns was 72,125.
Each fallout shelter was stocked with supplies to sustain the occupants for a two-week period following a nuclear attack.
Tensions between the U.S. and the Soviets continued for almost three decades until the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, bringing an end to the Cold War.
Most of the fallout shelters in Madison County were created by modifying an existing structure, which made it easy for the buildings to be reverted once they were no longer needed. The shelters were active until the late '70s and early '80s, but some of the buildings have since been sold or torn down, said Todd Harmeson, Madison County Emergency Management Agency spokesman.
“They have never revisited them, nor have the businesses restocked them,” he said. “It comes down to who is going to pay to stock these shelters.”
While a few of the black-and-yellow metal fallout shelter signs can still be found, the shelters are not a viable line of defense in the event of a nuclear bomb, Harmeson said.
This week, Bowers revisited the site of a fallout shelter, which had once been approved to house about 400 people. He said few people today know about the shelter’s existence.
Peeling back scraggly branches and sticker bushes, Bowers uncovered a small trail twisting through sheets of metal, dead leaves and abandoned tires. At the base of the trail was an opening to a large, underground structure.
“I’m amazed at how Mother Nature is taking back her land,” Bowers said. “When I was here 10 years ago, this was just an opening. The walls were still intact … now it’s just like woods. It just amazes me what 10 years have done. “
The area immediately outside the fallout shelter resembled a parking garage with large cement pillars and exposed steel beams running overhead.
Portions of the ceiling were missing and the sun filtered into the area. For a moment, it appeared almost whimsical and otherworldly, but a closer look revealed animal bones, tires, broken glass and debris littering the floor and corners.
“I would say it has deteriorated 50 percent from when I was here last time,” said Bowers as he looked around.
He made his way toward a set of double doors at the opposite end of the room. Beyond a pitch-black darkness was a fallout shelter dating back to 1962.
Bowers pulled out a flashlight and shined it into the room. Cool, musty air seeped from the room.
Inside, about a hundred metal containers with the words “survival supplies” stamped on them were stacked in a corner in various states of decay. Several of the containers had rusted together to form a wall.
Reaching into the containers, Bowers pulled out a tin of crackers with the date 1962 stamped across the top. He attempted to open it, but moisture had effectively sealed its contents.
Several bottles were also scattered among the barrel remnants. Some were empty, other contained a white chalky substance that had been reduced to a sticky powder. One, however, contained hundreds of partially preserved tablets that resembled aspirin.
Sounds and the light were swallowed inside the room as Bowers moved around. After an investigation of the shelter, Bowers said he would love to have seen the shelter in its prime and to understand what some of the holes in the walls were designed to do.
“It’s the unknown that gets me because I like to know,” Bowers said.
He was skeptical the shelter could offer much protection to anyone today from nuclear fallout.
“It’s too far gone,” he said. “You might be safe in there possibly, but you would never get out. The rest of the place would demolish around you.”