The continental United States has largely avoided the widespread devastation of wars that afflicted many other nations in the past century. Until the events of September 11, attacks directed at the US homeland were primarily limited to sabotage, often carried out in the name of foreign adversaries, although accountability for some of these incidents remains murky.

However, there was an unusual occurrence 80 years ago in Brie, Oregon, where it came to light that Japan had developed a weapon on American soil—balloons filled with hydrogen that dropped incendiary bombs.

Under this initiative, the Japanese constructed nearly 10,000 of these devices, designed to drift on the jet stream and release bombs with the goal of instilling fear and chaos among Americans. While they weren’t as precise as the notorious Nazi bombs, the intent behind these pilotless weapons was somewhat similar—random destruction aimed at sowing anxiety.

Except for one incident in Oregon, these balloon bombs were largely ineffective, which is not the case for the destructive capabilities of the Nazi V-1 and V-2 rockets.

The balloons operated by releasing ballast bags at different altitudes, lifting them high into the jetstream before dropping bombs. Once the final bag was released over a presumably populated area, a timer would activate a sequence of smaller incendiary devices, ultimately leading to a larger explosive. The objective was to ignite fires and cause damage below the balloon’s flight path.

In truth, most of these devices were not effective; many were lost in the Pacific, failing to inflict damage and often landing in remote areas, like forests, without detonating. Instead of unleashing destruction, they frequently collapsed intact without exploding.

Yet, there was one significant exception.

On a pleasant Saturday at Leonard Creek in the Gearhart Mountain area of Fremont National Forest, Pastor Archie Mitchell and his pregnant wife, Elise, took five middle school students from their Sunday School for a picnic and some fishing.

After dropping everyone off at the campsite, Pastor Mitchell parked the car. His wife soon called out to the children, warning them of a possible unexploded bomb and urging them not to touch anything.

Moments later, an explosion shattered the afternoon, claiming the lives of the five teenagers along with the unborn child of the Mitchells.

Prior to this tragedy, the government had sought information on the balloon bombs to deter Japanese efforts in assessing their effectiveness. Following the explosion, however, censorship diminished, and further disasters were avoided.

While additional bombs were located, they were often found with caution. The U.S. Army remained vigilant, training fire prevention units to respond in case of forest fires caused by these devices. Out of thousands launched, only about 400 were ever recovered, most of them by chance.

The funeral for the victims drew considerable attendance, deeply unsettling the community of Brie, particularly the local Christian and Missionary Church.

Rev. Mitchell, just 27 years old, was devastated by the loss of his wife and unborn child, yet he continued to serve the ministry. Initially, he hadn’t planned to pastor this congregation; he was trained for mission work abroad and had landed in Brie as a temporary posting amid the war.

His sorrow resonated with the Patzke family, who also lost two children in the explosion. They later learned that their son, who had served on the bomber crew, died in a Nazi prisoner of war camp. Their eldest son, Betty, who was 23, shared a connection with Rev. Mitchell through their mutual attendance at the same Bible college and congregation, amplifying the tragedy’s impact.

Two years later, Rev. Mitchell and Betty married, leaving Oregon to serve as missionaries in a leprosy colony in Vietnam. They had four children, but the shadow of that tragic day loomed large.

In 1962, Archie was accused of connections with Viet Cong guerrillas, and he lost contact with Betty and their children. While she received letters intermittently, communication ceased in 1969. She continued her missionary work in Southeast Asia until retiring in 1987.

The site of the bomb explosion is now properly marked to honor the only fatality on the U.S. mainland due to enemy aggression. A portion of the land was donated by Weyerhaeuser to the U.S. Park Service, and it’s been named the Mitchell Recreation Area. There’s a Ponderosa pine known locally as the “shotgun tree,” which contains fragments from the bomb.

In a gesture of remembrance and reconciliation, a meteorologist involved in the design of the devices often visits the memorial to honor the victims. A woman who had worked in a factory producing the bombs even presented 1,000 origami cranes to the victims’ families, and Japanese schoolchildren commemorated the 50th anniversary of the tragedy by planting six cherry trees at the site.

While this tragic story may fade in awareness with the end of World War II, it serves as a somber reminder of the vulnerabilities that remain, even 80 years later, to unsolicited attacks by hostile forces.