A Doomsday Gap

A friend recently acquired a stack of pulp fiction paperbacks: those slender relics from the 1950s with salacious covers and come‑on titles like Keyhole Peeper, The Cut of the Whip, and Too Hot for Hell. One particular volume in the stash caught my eye. In place of a titillating cover image, it pictures a pair of simply drawn B‑52 bombers with orange flames shooting out of their engines. The title is Red Alert. A banner blurb reads: “A Novel of the First Two Hours of World War III.” It was published in 1958.

I borrowed the book and read it in one sitting. The writing is remarkably polished, and there’s an uncommon attention to detail. The plot involves a delusional U.S. Air Force general who tricks the bombers under his command into launching a surprise nuclear attack on the Soviet Union to save the world from Communism. Diplomatic efforts and military action prevent most of the planes from reaching their targets. But one heavily...