by the United States government to put together, in utter secrecy, the unit that would carry out the atomic raids on Japan. When the day came, he did n't delegate; he flew the B-29 named Enola Gay -- his mother's name -- to Hiroshima with one goal in mind: to make the war stop. To let the soldiers, sailors, aviators and Marines go home at last, to rejoin their families or start new families, to somehow, after all the suffering and all the heartbreak, find peace. Of course the sailor and the nurse are the preferred visual representation of victory. What Paul Tibbets, navigator Dutch Van Kirk, bombardier Tom Ferebee and their crew were asked to do over the skies of Japan is something that is difficult for many people to think about; it's much more pleasant to smile at the sight of the kiss in New York. Peace is the sun-dappled result, but getting there can be a path of darkness upon darkness. Which is why, on Memorial Day weekend, it is probably reasonable that some people reflexively turn away from thoughts of battlefields and death. The people who turn away are generally not the ones whose family members have in wartime trod that dark and lonely path. On the occasions through the centuries when long wars have come to an end, many newspapers have chosen to go with the most glorious single-word, all-capital-letters headline of all: PEACE ! Is there a word in the English language