Never Too Late: ‘Atomic Veteran' Graduates College at 86

A local veteran is proving you’re never too old to achieve a dream.

One of the few “Atomic Veterans” still alive today, Henry “Hank” Bolden survived one of the most shameful chapters in America’s hidden history. Now living in Cheshire at the age of 86, he’s achieved a lifelong goal of becoming a college graduate.

He was only 16 years old when he altered his birth certificate to join a friend in enlisting in the Army in 1953, leaving his native New Haven behind for boot camp. He wasn’t alone: An estimated 200,000 underage soldiers would serve in the WWII and Korean war eras.

After basic training in Fort Dix, Bolden worked as a tank mechanic in Texas before moving to California and becoming a surface-to-air missile mechanic. Then came a sudden, mysterious order: pack up your gear and get ready to report to the Nevada desert for an unspecified “special military exercise.”

On February 18, 1955, without explanation, Bolden was ordered to march miles into the desert and get into a trench with a group of soldiers he’d never met. Looking at the other young men surrounding him, he realized they all had two things in common: They were all Black. And none of them had any idea what was coming next.

“They tell you to cover your eyes,” he recalled.

After a countdown blared through a loudspeaker, there was a brief moment of unsettling silence. Then, it came: Shot Wasp, a Mark 6 nuclear bomb dropped from a B-36 airplane flying 4,000 feet in the air. Blinding light. Intense heat. A deafening sound as a monstrous mushroom cloud billowed 21,500 feet high.

With no protective gear assigned to the soldiers beyond their standard issue helmets and fatigues, Hank raised his arms to shield his face. He still vividly remembers the horrifying sight his eyes captured at that moment.

“With the radiation, when you put your arms across your eyes or your hands, you actually see the bones,” he said. “You see the bones in your body from the exposure. You can see your skeleton.”

It wasn't an accident, nor was it an enemy attack. It was a deliberate act by Hank's own government, part of a secret program called Operation Teapot. In a series of 14 bomb drops, or “shots,” military officials sought to test the effects of nuclear bombs on humans, animals, structures and military strategy.

“They wanted to see how live soldiers would stand up to being exposed to radiation,” Bolden recalls. “Prior to using live soldiers they were using mannequins. But you don’t get real results from using mannequins as you would live bodies.”

For Shot Wasp, Bolden’s unit was strategically placed in the predetermined path of the atomic fallout, just 2.8 miles away from the bomb’s detonation site. He would soon learn it was no coincidence they were all Black.

“There was this myth about Black people being able to withstand, tolerate certain things more than any other race,” said Bolden. “So it was a test on that also.”

After the fallout came a warning: Bolden and his fellow soldiers were sworn to secrecy, threatened with 10 years in prison and a $10,000 fine if they talked to even a family member or a doctor about what they’d endured in the desert.

For 60 years, Bolden told no one. Not his family, not his wife, not his children. Not even his doctors when the tell-tale cancers started to show. He developed bladder cancer and posterior subcapsular cataracts, and in 1990 was diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

“I was actually given three and a half to four years to live. So by 1995 I was supposed to be a statistic.”

But by 1995, Bolden found himself in remission as a national secret was coming to light. At the order of President Bill Clinton, Congress repealed the Nuclear Radiation and Secrecy Agreements Act, allowing atomic veterans to talk about their experiences without fear of fines or treason charges. Financial compensation was opened to all qualifying atomic veterans.

But the president’s October 3, 1995 live address to announce the repeal of the act was eclipsed in the news by a different story: The OJ Simpson verdict was being handed down in a live courtroom feed, taking over televisions across America. As a result, many qualifying veterans had no idea the ban of secrecy had been lifted, nor that they could apply for benefits. Bolden didn’t find out until he was researching on the internet, he says, in 2015.

“I got so angry and so aggravating to the government at one time I thought I was going to be assassinated to keep me from talking,” he says.

When Bolden attempted to apply for benefits, he discovered the burden of proof was placed back on his fellow atomic veterans, the same challenge faced by veterans exposed to toxic burn pits in the post-9/11 wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The government would give compensation from the date a claim was filed, but not retroactively, and only if the veteran could prove they participated in the tests – which proved an almost impossible task after millions of military records were destroyed in a 1973 fire at the National Personnel Records Center. As many as 18 million records burned, including 80% of all Army personnel discharged between 1912 and 1960.

“They were hoping that he'd pass away before that or he was gonna be one of those guys who gave up,” said Anthony Bolden, Hank’s son. “Not Hank. Hank ain't having it.”

After a long fight that included passing a polygraph lie detector test as his own expense, Hank’s claim was eventually approved, setting precedent for other atomic veterans whose records were destroyed.

A Dream Achieved

After his honorable discharge from the Army, Bolden worked as an engineer before deciding to pursue a career as a working jazz musician while raising his family. Music not only helped pay the bills, but gave him an outlet to process feelings of anger and betrayal by his own country.

“It’s like the blood in my veins. It takes away all my other thoughts,” he said.

In 2020, NBC Connecticut’s Heidi Voight sat down with Bolden as he had finally begun receiving government compensation that allowed him to pursue a lifelong dream: a college degree. Bolden was thriving as a stand-out jazz performance major at the University of Hartford’s Hartt School.

“I’m like the relic here with all these young kids, you know,” he chuckled at the time.

On Sunday, May 14, 2023, the now 86-year-old’s goal was achieved and celebrated at the XL Center in Hartford.

“Henry Bolden, Summa Cum Laude,” a voice boomed as applause filled the air. In a cap and gown, Bolden smiled as he walked onstage to accept his Bachelor of Music diploma with honors. His children, grandchildren, and wife of over 63 years, Cynthia, cheered proudly.

It was a moment of recognition for a dream achieved, 68 years after the nightmare in the Nevada desert that Bolden says must never be forgotten.

“When people such as myself pass on, this will not be a part of history unless someone in there to make sure it's kept alive.”

Hidden History

The vast majority of America’s atomic veterans from the atmospheric testing era are gone today. Government figures estimate between 400,000 and 550,000 American military personnel participated in a variety of nuclear tests between 1946 to 1992. According to the Department of Defense’s Defense Threat Reduction Agency, this includes the post-World War II occupation forces of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, prisoners of war in Japan at the conclusion of World War II, participants of atmospheric nuclear tests in Nevada and the Pacific from 1945 to 1962, and participants of underground nuclear testing in Nevada from 1951 to 1992.

Many of these “atomic veterans” died from various cancers long before their stories became public knowledge. Figures of the number of survivors vary, from an estimated 10,000 to 80,000. Bolden believes he is one of only two surviving African-American atomic veterans who are acknowledged and receiving compensation from the government. He’s on a mission to reach as many of his fellow survivors as he can and help them apply for long overdue recognition and compensation.

For more on Hank Bolden and the "Atomic Veterans," click here.