Gentle Prodding

A plump gentleman in a black Homburg strode through the afternoon idlers in St. James's Park to the lake. Two wires were taped inconspicuously to the package in his arms; it had a harsh, germicidal smell.

At the lake the gentleman stepped into a little boat and was rowed over to the island in its center. Ducks quacked and splattered indignantly as he stepped ashore, entered a small concrete hut, carefully closed the steel door behind him. A few minutes later he emerged hatless, took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. Dr. Hugh Watts, Chief Inspector of Explosives for the Home Office, had just disarmed his 22nd postal bomb.

Dr. Watts has been handling explosives and infernal machines for over 33 years. At one time he was mostly concerned with the deadly bundles the Irish Republican Army sent over to blow up English post offices. Since 1945 he has concentrated on letter bombs sent to Churchill, Bevin and other VIPs.

Last week the official London Gazette announced that Dr. Watts had been awarded the George Medal for "courage and devotion to duty of the highest order." Admonishing reporters not to "make a song and dance about it," Watts reluctantly gave a few pointers on method: "I started knowing that such a small object, to be explosive, had to have an acid-operated fuse or an electric current. Gentle prodding told me which. These letter bombs were all of the electric-fuse type. All I had to do was to find the wires between battery and fuse, snip them and breathe easily. The rest was just routine."

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