"7 High" Chapter 10 "Big Sky Country"

“7 High”

Recollections of a Combat Defense Squadron “Ramp Rat”

Chapter 10

“Big Sky Country”

9 January 1966. Our orders specified 37 Days after departure from our CONUS entry point, McGuire AFB, and here we were. It was snowing, coming down pretty good, when we arrived in Great Falls late at night and checked into a motel on the main drag, S. 10^th Ave. It had been snowing and blowing all day as we drove over the continental divide from Spokane.

Wanting badly to get off on the right foot this time, I set the alarm with plenty of time to get to the base and report in to the Orderly Room at 0800 in class A uniform.

In the morning when we awoke, the snow had stopped; it was 25 degrees below zero, Fahrenheit. That would be the high temperature for the day.

The slush that had packed up underneath the VW as we came over the pass the day before was all frozen up in there. I couldn’t move the shift lever, the engine wouldn’t turn over. There was a gas station across the street, but it wasn’t open yet. (Gas stations used to offer mechanical service, not beer and hot dogs.)

I called the Orderly Room and told them I was going to be late. So much for getting off to a good start at the new base.

341^st Strategic Missile Wing

10 January 1966. Snow was covering the parking area when I arrived at the Combat Defense Squadron's orderly room to sign in, fashionably late at 1000. I was lucky to find a parking spot right in front.

The VW heater made no discernable difference, but the car had been in warm shop for a couple hours. I made the dash from the car to the barracks in dress blues and low quarters. As I opened the door, the first shirt bellowed at me, "Airman, what the fuck are you doing?" "Where is your parka?" "Are you frost bit?"

Well, maybe I was, just a little.

Twenty minutes later, I had the paperwork for all the stops I would need to make and departed with the admonition from the First Sergeant that I should make haste to Supply for inclement weather gear.

Back at the parking lot, I was blocked in by some inconsiderate idiot's Volvo. I got the VW started and was considering how to get out when the Base Police patrol arrived, along with the Squadron Commander, who's parking space I had used. Now that he had brushed away the snow, the curb marking was embarrassingly clear. And, again, I was in violation of local regulations regarding cold weather gear. Standing in that cold parking lot, he did his best to keep my ears warm with his kind words.

So, the day was going well. No breakfast. Standing around for a couple hours while the car was thawed in a gas station bay. Now, I had met the Commander and First Sergeant and made an impression. And, it was early yet. I had the rounds of the base to make. Supply first, I was tired of being reminded, and it was damn cold, not warming up as the day progressed either. The Tiger and Doug waiting impatiently in that motel room was on my mind.

At the Housing Office, I was astonished to find that quarters, unfurnished, of course, were available on base. Owning no furniture except the Grundig, we had been planning to rent a furnished place downtown somewhere. Had never heard of an Airman First Class(E-4) qualify for base housing.

There was Capehart housing for Officers and Senior NCOs, and Wherry housing for the lower ranks. The housing units were named after the legislators who sponsored them. Essentially, the Wherry units were ten-plexes, with kitchen, dining room, living room downstairs, and bedrooms and bath upstairs. An A1C did not, however, qualify for a garage.

We did a quick inspection, and they gave me the key to 553 Lincoln Drive. I picked up the Tiger and Doug, stopped at the Broaster Chicken on 10th avenue, and we moved into the empty unit.

That afternoon we went on a shopping spree. We purchased living room furniture, dinette set, television, and so much much more. We brought the TV home, but had to wait for the rest of the furniture to be delivered. Hand me down bedroom furniture came from my parents in Spokane.

From the Base Exchange we purchased a Westinghouse slim line clock radio. It didn't pick up many stations. Each morning we would awaken to: "Good Morning, it's a brand new day. Country wide music coming your way. On Brand 56, KMON." I wish I could sing it to you.

This was punctuated every 19 seconds with an electronic ZAP from the SAGE Radar Unit about two blocks away. The big radar penetrated the audio of every device in town. You could hear it on the PA at the municipal airport on the other side of town. Eventually, you didn't notice anymore. I still have audio tapes recorded at Malmstrom with the ZAP. It was really loud on Lincoln Drive.

KMON had a swap and shop kind of show. Folks would call in and describe what they were wanting or selling and leave a phone number. It was a very handy, and sometimes amusing show. From this pre-internet craig's list we purchased many things.

A couple of items for the VW stick in my mind. There was an electric element that mounted under the engine oil sump to keep the oil warm enough for the starter to turn the engine. And a long extension cord from the kitchen window out to the parking lot. I burned myself badly thinking it wasn't working. Cold weather can be very tricky.

Getting it started was one problem, another was cabin temperature. There was no noticeable heat from the VW system. While driving it was necessary to continually scrape the inside of the windshield due to the moisture from your breath. For the outside of the windshield, roll down the window and spray with the can of miracle Firestone de-icer kept at the ready.

The solution from the KMON swap and shop; a gasoline turbine heater.

This device took up most of the "trunk" space in the VW and sucked gas out of the main tank to burn in the turbine. It was very much like the ground heaters on the ramp. The turbine needed to continue to run after the device was switched off in order to vent. And, as we know, failure to vent WILL result in an explosion. It was vital that the 6 volt battery under the back seat was up to the challenge.

The exhaust vent was under the passenger side front fender. It sounded exactly those machines that heated tar to put on the road. Many times folks would report that your car was running, or something was wrong. That heater could really heat. And you didn't need to be revving the engine

Driving in frozen Montana was just a bit different from our recent Andalusian past. Going to work one morning I ran over an edge in the pavement where some work had been done. Both rear tubeless snow tires just purchased in Ohio, lost their seal. "Too stiff to flex in this cold.", was the answer I got. "You should run tubes in this weather."Ka Ching! Remove and replace tires, install tubes. Why bother with tubeless tires, anyway?

A couple more fun facts about driving in wintertime Montana, and then I'll get back to the story.

There was no numerical speed limit on the highways in Montana. Only "Safe and Prudent", a limit one was not likely to hit in a 39 hp vehicle. We had gone from being the fastest thing on the road to the slowest. On an icy highway, the VW, rear engine and all, would try and swap ends with very little provocation.

The Highway Department ploughed 10th Avenue, the highway. Great Falls City didn't own any snow removal equipment that I was ever aware of. Snow would fall while it was relatively warm, creating ruts on the snowy streets. It would then get real cold, leaving icy ruts just a little bit wider wheelbase than the beetle. It was sort of like being bounced from one streetcar track to another. Turning was impossible if someone hadn't been there first to make a track for you.

Our new, 90 days same as cash, furniture was delivered. The Grundig stereo arrived from Spain, with a little more damage. Drapes were installed. The home fires burning brightly. The unit had it's own gas furnace and water heater. Fuel supplied courtesy the USAF. What a treat. We were even supplied with the regulation name and rank for the front door.

After clearing onto base I was assigned to training prior to being sent to the field. I had been warned about "the field" the first morning in that gas station. And, after having spent some hell time on the Atlas I was very concerned about this assignment. But, on the bright side, I would be training on base eight to five for a couple of months while my security clearance was upgraded to top secret.

I drank an elephant full of Budweiser during this time. At the base quick stop it was 50 cents a six pack. Cheaper than pop. Which was Shasta.

After we had the house in shape, Art and Linda Martinez came up to visit. One of our favorite places was Shakey's "Ye olde Public House and Pizza Parlor", on 10th Ave. They had a real smoky wood fire, tables with benches, and a piano player. Folks would sing old tunes, it was great. I learned about the "Public House Special", still one of my favorite pizzas, but they don't know what it is if you can find a Shakey's at all these days.

The "J Bar T" was another favorite place. It was a country roadhouse with live music and dancing. While here Art and I discovered that Coors Beer purchased in Odgen for less than four dollars a case could be sold in Montana for over eight. We were back in the smuggling business for all future trips. In Sevilla it had been tapestries from Morocco, purchased in Gibraltar.

17 January 1966. Strategic Air Command B-52 from Seymour Johnson AFB collides with KC-135 tanker from Morón AFB, during refueling operations over Spain, spilling four nuclear weapons near the town of Palomares. Three fell on land, and one into the sea. Two that fell on land experienced high explosive detonation, scattering nuclear material over the landscape.

There were four survivors from the crew of seven aboard the B-52. All four crewmembers on the KC-135 perished.

Our friends back at Morón were off to live in tents at Palomares. A1C Kosa photo.

A1C Kosa (l), Unidentified Guardia Civil, A1C Vasquez

https://web.archive.org/web/20070117154149/http://www.3973cds.com/3973cdspalomares.htm

Here is Airman Kosa's account:

Palomares, Spain at about 10:20 Spanish Time, January 17, 1966
A B-52 bomber flying a Crome Dome mission collided during a refueling stop over the quiet farming village of Palomares - located on Spain's south east coast and about 100 miles south of the Spanish AF academy at San Javier, Spain. Eleven crew members were involved. Seven passed away and four B-52 crew members survived. About 1:00 AM, Twenty-eight members of the 3973rd CDS were on an AF bus heading over the Spanish mountains to the village of Palomares, arriving mid-morning of January 18th - at the tail section of the B-52 in the dry river bed of the Almanzora River. Four B-52 nuclear bombs had fallen from the B-52. Three were located in and around the village. One was not located until EIGHTY days later and recovered by the US Navy in the Mediterranean. Security for the three bombs on land was provided by the 3973rd CDS with two SAC AP's and two Guardia Civil (Spanish National Police) posted around each bomb until relieved on January 19th, 1966. A tent city of 75 tents was erected and the Grey Eagle Mobile Kitchen, portable showers and washing facilities were constructed. The US Navy supplied the evening movies as all 600 Airmen were restricted to Camp Wilson to prevent any unnecessary incidents from occurring. One of the staples from the Grey Eagle Kitchen was fresh local tomatoes.

Kosa liked to make the point that this is the first issue of the beret to Air Policemen. He is missed. A patch was designed and issued.

Los Palomaries Wanners Warriors Emblem was to represent Gen. Delmar Wilson. Call sign Wanner. Lt. Blue was the Mediterranean Sea. Arrow Broken was for the code Broken Arrow. Tents for Tent City. Red for the Spanish Mountains. Two stars - Gen. Wilson's rank. This patch was authorized by the general and was affixed on Black Berates supplied for AF Personal assigned to the crash site.

October 20, 2015. Article broadcast on the BBC World Service about a new agreement between Spain and the United States regarding additional cleanup at Palomares. There is a podcast available at: ***

18 January 1966. 8,000 more U.S. troops land in South Vietnam; total now 190,000.

We were snug in our well insulated quarters. Thank you, Senator Wherry, where ever you are. This is good duty, I was attending classes on a wide variety of topics, conducted out of the 258 building.

The 258 building held the CDS armory at the east end, Operations offices in the middle, classroom, coffee bar, and vehicle dispatch on the west end. There was a large field of vehicles.

Rows of air police equipped crew cab pickups, Dodge and International. There was a row of these vehicles specially equipped for convoy escort duties. There were rows of these vehicles with campers mounted on the back. And rows of Track Masters, loaded on trailers, to be pulled behind.

Here was that culture shock thing again.

This was a huge operation. There was no more "Mobile One", "Mobile Two", etc. Call Signs were assigned to the vehicle, and was on a card behind the drivers sun visor. It would be "Malmstrom Security", and a three digit number. A subtle distinction, but dispatching was by vehicle, rather than patrol. This made local VHF monitoring confusing.

Four channel, VHF radios, mostly GE, with control head in cab, suitcase sized unit bolted to the front of the truck bed. One channel was for communicating with the base, repeaters were transparent to us, and the other three were assigned to individual flights... I'm getting way off the story here... Communications was but one of the topics of the training. Maybe if we start with organization it would make more sense?

The Minuteman complex was spread over hundreds of Montana Big Sky miles. The complex was divided into four Squadrons . ***

Each Squadron had six Flights.

Each Flight has one Launch Control Facility (LCF) alphabetically designated, beginning with Alpha. Each Launch Control Facility controlled 11 Launch Facilities (LF), arranged like a clock around the LCF. Control center in the middle, missiles around in a ring. Geography, and physical access, made the locations less than circular.

These days, anyone with access to the internet can see the location of these sites. Back in the day, the maps were classified material, issued and accounted for on every trip.

One day, the class was equipped with "in-flight" lunches, and loaded onto an AF Blue Bluebird bus for the Alpha Flight tour. Located in the Belt Mountains, first operational, Alpha flight was closest to the base and the showcase and training and visitor center of the complex. We stopped at Alpha One, the LCF. Lots of plaques and awards on the walls, and the floors reminded me of Lackland and Basic Training. My heart sunk.

It just screamed "chicken-shit". There were pockets of "chicken-shit" everywhere, and this needed to be avoided at all costs. The advantage of being close to the base was the biggest disadvantage.

We were then hauled to an Alpha LF, maybe A6? It was ripping wind cold and we chose to sit on the bus and eat our lunch than look down in the open missile tube. We had all seen the propaganda movies at Commander's Call.

The lunch, the in-flight lunch in a cardboard box. Not bad. Two sandwiches, you takes your chances, maybe a chicken part, hard boiled egg. We were going to be treated to a lot more in-flight box lunches and it was like the good and the bad and the ugly. It was cold on a standing bus, and this was before the days of ipod. If you've seen one LF, you've seen 'em all.

Montana, Big Sky Country.

The Launch Facility was protected with the latest in electronic security. There were four banjo antennas to set up a pattern across the top of the site. Anything that disrupted this pattern would be reported as a security alert. Sagebrush, livestock, bunnies, and electrical problems were the most frequent alerts, and were considered low priority.

Tamper alarms on the silo or lock covers caused a secondary, more significant alarm. Alarms were detected by the Launch Control Crew and relayed to the Flight Security Controller.

Above ground, each flight was manned with a site manager, 6 air police and a cook. The Flight Security Controller, SSgt or A1C, dispatched a Security Alert Team consisting of a disgruntled A1C(E-4) and a rookie just out of the mill. This three man team, FSC and two man SAT was the first response for each flight. The three off-shift AP's were the backup. This crew worked the standard field schedule that I would soon be enjoying. Five days on, five days off.

Of course, travel, training, and emergencies, real and imagined, all came out of the airman's time off. After years of the three day cycle of swings, mids, days, and break, it still sounded pretty good while we were in training, enjoying the eight to five.

A great deal of training was devoted to winter driving, and arctic survival. The class favorite had to be the Trackmaster training.

http://www.unusuallocomotion.com/pages/industrial/thiokol-and-lmc-tracked-vehicles.html

The Thiokoll Trackmaster 601 was a snow vehicle with tracks than ran on rubber tires, powered by the Ford 302 V8. With levers for steering, so much fun to drive on snow, gliding over deep snow with the wide tracks, and they could really haul ass in fresh powder. I read that the Trackmaster was supposed to carry eight people, but six with gear was very crowded. Seating in the back was bench style, face to face. I don't remember any seatbelts.

Deploying the Trackmaster from the tilt trailer for the first time was the ultimate thrill ride. The "You break it, you buy it", policy had been emphasized during classroom training.

After the preflight, as operator, you fired it up and backed until the center of gravity changed. Suddenly you were airborne. The sensation of tipping over backwards was heart stopping. Suddenly there isn't anything but sky. But, you just had to back straight off, and you had the ride to look forward to.

Getting it back aboard was something you started to dread, just as soon as you hit the ground.

Alignment was critical. Not so simple as backing straight off. You had to hit the trailer just right, and once you got close to it you couldn't see it at all. In the field we learned that having the trailer stretched out straight behind the pickup helped. In training, they weren't willing to risk a truck. It was just the trailer on stands.

The operator was completely dependent on a spotter. As you crept forward, suddenly you started to climb a very steep invisible ramp. Trying not to slip the tracks, inching forward, because when you hit the tipping point you had to stop immediately to avoid over running the trailer.

The odor of burning clutch plates covered the area that day at training. We all managed to avoid catastrophes, but there were some moments that caused a scare in the audience. If one track slipped, you could find yourself crosswise, and that took some skill to recover from.

Having an instructor as spotter was a benefit we wouldn't have in the field.

17 March 1966. Off the Spanish coast, near Palomares, the deep submersible submarine Alvin finds the missing nuclear weapon, after it was pointed out by a Spanish fisherman, Francisco Simo Orts, who has gained local fame as "Paco de la bomba". Sr. Orts claimed salvage rights under maritime law. The USAF settled for an undisclosed sum.

Unfortunately, during the recovery efforts the weapon was dropped and lost again down a 70 degree slope at a depth of 2550 feet. ***

Back in my snug quarters and eight to five job, my top secret clearance came through. This set off another series of classes on Minuteman security procedures, and a trip to the security department at Pass and ID, where I was shown a number to memorize. To write this number down was a security violation, and a big no no. With this number I would authenticate that I was who I was supposed to be.

This was the private portion of a public/private key system. The public side of the key was alphanumeric and changed frequently.

Authentications were encrypted on single use code pads before transmission. At that time the "false subtraction" method was being used. To authenticate, you first agreed on the code book, page, and line to be used, then your private key was "false subtracted" from the "random" number on that line. You then sent the result.

There is no use going into detail. The system was complicated by design, and the process changed frequently.

Every unit going into the field completed a multi copy trip request form. This form accumulated signatures and information at a number of stops including; squadron operations, transportation, keys and codes, and wing security. A trip number was assigned. List of personnel assigned, and the public key information, as well as code pages assigned for each individual.

This information was transmitted to the flights involved. Anyone that showed up at a flight unannounced was immediately suspect. Normally, before approaching a site the trip would call the Launch Control Facility via VHF radio and announce it's presence and intended destination.

26 March 1966. Demonstrations are held across the United States against the Vietnam War. In South Vietnam, 20,000 Buddhists march in demonstrations against the policies of the military government.

At Malmstrom, crowd and riot control procedures were added to the training schedule. It was taken from our off duty time. Exercises were conducted in weeds guaranteed to ruin the finish on our boots.

Also, some brilliant military strategist noted that some of the troops didn't have the complete compliment of uniforms and ordered a squadron wide clothing inspection.

Since my uniform issue, the summer uniform 505, had been replaced by the 1505 uniform, with WAF stripes. These had been replaced by all season blues, shade 1084, with standard size stripes. 505 and 1505 tan uniforms were no longer authorized. I hadn't purchased 1505's and didn't want to buy summer blues, unless I was going to be wearing them on duty.

I know, I know. We received a monthly clothing allowance, as part of our pay, and I should have saved that up to purchase the latest prescribed fashions. But, there were a lot of guys in my mindset. If you weren't wearing the uniform, and they changed it every two years, why bother?

This clothing inspection set off a massive uniform swapping session. A sympathetic NCO, maybe TSgt Duncan, was in charge of my inspection and didn't make me haul everything down to the squadron, but stopped by my quarters for a beverage, and looked at the uniforms we had taken out of the closet and laid out on the couch to that the A3C stripes on the borrowed summer blues weren't so noticeable. If he saw them, he didn't say anything.

Side by side, the new blue uniforms were shoddy in comparison to what I had been issued. Almost new, the material looked rumpled, bad, and they didn't look like they had been tailored at all. You couldn't look sharp in these.

On the stairway to the control tower were the large letters "PRIDE". The official explanation was the "Professional Results in Daily Efforts" program. Since the Base Comander's name was Dowdin, the unofficial translation was "Piss Right In Dowdin's Ear".

Once assigned to a missile squadron, Air Police rarely transferred between squadrons, and upon completion of training, I was delighted to be assigned to the 490th Strategic Missile Squadron. It was far enough away from the base to not suffer the spit and polish syndrome. But not so far away that relief was going to take an entire day off your time every cycle. Even better luck, I was scheduled to work at Kilo Flight.

Kilo is at the bottom of the complex, in the banana belt. The Launch Control Facility is located just outside Harlowton, Montana. Best flight in the wing, IMHO.

2 April 1966. Palomares, Spain; the submarine Alvin finds the missing nuclear weapon again. This time at a depth of 2900 feet.

For my first duty cycle in the field, it was a crisp clear Big Sky morning. We reported for guard mount, held in the classroom in the 258 building. The most important item to me; we were going to be flying to work this morning.

After drawing weapons and ammunition, we were shuttled to the Missile Assembly Building, where Keys and Codes and Wing Security Control were located on the east side of this huge building.

We signed for keys and pages from one time code pad books at Keys and Codes, and the completed trip request paperwork was filed with Wing Security.

We then walked out onto the ramp, into the helicopter parking area, where a dozen or more Hueys were parked. Tail numbers were as briefed at guard mount. One helicopter was scheduled for each missile flight. ***photo

For each helicopter, there were six armed APs, the site manager and a representative from the Food Services Squadron.. Each carrying a mobility bag full of arctic gear and clothing for a five day duty tour.

The ranking Air Policeman was NCOIC for the cops. He was aware that I was a first timer, and insisted that I get into the front. I resisted, thinking he was trying to embarrass me, in the pilot's seat, but it turns out they fly helicopters from the other side. Why is this? Torque? Or the need to be different from the fixed wing guys?

After we were loaded in, doors closed, I was handed a headset, the pilot showed me where the intercom "talk" button was on the stick. He then proceeded to fire it up.

The Huey came to life slowly, as the turbine whine increased, the alarms on the middle panel began going out, and the dials came up. When it reached a certain speed, the pilot engaged the rotor, and things started to move.

He watched the instruments stabilize, then called the tower and requested take off. There were at least six helicopters turning and ready by this time. JP-4 exhaust still smelled the same. I don't know what I expected, but was surprised when we lifted about eight feet off the ground and then taxied like a fixed wing aircraft to the taxiway and lined up like ducks.

The line of ducks waddled to the end of the runway and took off, one by one. We cleared the pattern at Malmstrom, gained some altitude and picked up a easterly heading. We followed the highway through beautiful downtown Belt and the pass through the Belt Mountains. The little band of ducks was splitting up. Our Huey turned south across the Judith Basin.

Our pilot showed me how to hold the stick, and adjust the auto-pilot, then reached under his seat, pulled out a box lunch and proceeded to picnic. He pointed out local landmarks, game, and course corrections. A lot of these guys were fresh from 'Nam, or on the way, and the attitudes were all over the map.

Approaching Kilo One from the north, he made what I learned was the standard approach. Buzz the site to wake them up, and observe local conditions, then make a wide, noisy 180 over the Harlowton sewage lagoon to approach from the south. The landing zone at K-1 is a flat spot up the hill south of the LCF.

This was my first good look at a Minuteman Launch Control Facility from the air. Ranch house, shop, pump house. If not for the Christmas tree HF antenna on one corner, and the regulation SAC security fencing, it might be an agricultural operation.

At the landing zone we were met by the off duty section of the off going crew, with all the gear for the shift in the SAT's crew cab. Gear was offloaded, gear was loaded. We headed down the hill. It was above freezing. It was very muddy. In four wheel drive, we threw mud everywhere getting back up on to the road, and tracked a large amount of genuine Montana gumbo through the gate and into the parking lot.

The on duty section relieved, classified material inventoried and signed for, the SAT delivered the remainder of the off duty crew to the landing zone, where the Huey and passengers were waiting impatiently. The SAT vehicle came back down the hill, through the mud, swinging around on site to park alongside the ranch house, facing out. This was the favored spot.

We hauled our bags to the designated room, and began to unpack for a five day tour.

It wasn't five minutes before the site manager was in the FSC's office demanding that mud in his parking lot be cleaned up immediately.

What a good job for a bunch of lazy air cops.

After the parking lot had been hosed, brushed, hosed again, and squeegee wiped, there was the opportunity to inventory and inspect the vehicles.

Each vehicle was equipped with shovels, chains for all wheels, and a sealed footlocker with emergency medical and arctic survival equipment. If the seal was broken, it was a problem for everyone concerned. The morphine syringes were one of the items that could mysteriously disappear, so the footlocker was not only padlocked, but banded with steel straps marked with magical inscriptions.

What had looked like a shop from the air was a large heated garage. Inside was the flight Trackmaster, a second, and maybe third air police crew cab, for vehicle rotation. These were spotless clean, ready for inspection, and were always inferior to the dirty vehicle in use. If the site manager had a pickup, it was here. In winter, there was a dump truck with snow plow, or a front end loader. There was still room for a regulation badminton court.

The ranch house had external entrances to generator, HVAC and non-tactical communications rooms under the view of the Flight Security Controller, whose office was in a alcove, controlling access to the main gate, building and the elevator to the Launch Control Center.

Behind the FSC was the day room, dining area, kitchen, and the highly polished, SAC approved, barracks hallway to latrine and rooms designated for Air Police, Site Manager, Food Service, and RON, "Rest Over Night", for transient personnel.

Each of the rooms contained two double bunks and a desk, except the site manager, who had a single, corner office, sort of TI style, with a view of his other domain, the horseshoe pits.

The site manager had a "real" phone in his room, connected to Malmstrom, and could get an off base line. There was an extension to this phone in the day room. This was the only phone on site allowed for personal calls, and then during off duty(site manager worked eight to five) hours only, and with the explicit permission of the site manager.

The AP rooms had a phone too, a direct line to the FSC. The FSC could "call out the reserve", by blasting that phone. Each shift had a room, so we weren't hot bunking it. But that could happen during "emergencies".

At the west end of the ranch house, was the fire pit for destroying classified material. It had a squirrel cage, rotisserie device. When a code pad was taken out of service, the FSC would tediously pull all the pages out of the pad, stuffing them in a paper bag. The bag was then placed into the cage of the rotisserie device, sometimes a little gasoline added, and match applied. After it had burned down, the handle of the rotisserie was turned to allow the rocks in the cage to break up the ashes.

There was a lot that could go wrong. And, a big penalty. If any identifiable portion of a page you had signed for ever turned up, it was a career ending thing.

On the uphill, south, side of Kilo One the pump house was just another building to keep in inspection order. I had never seen a chlorine injector system before. But the site had good water. Downtown Harlow suffered from sulfurous smelling water.

The curious "Christmas tree" antenna took up a lot of space on the south side. There was another, duplicate antenna, folded underneath a large manhole cap that would be propelled upward by an explosive charge after the primary antenna had been blown away by a nuclear strike. ***

It was considered bad luck to stand on this cover.

The day shift went off duty at 1800. The heavy duty pinochle game began in the FSC's office shortly thereafter.

This is where I was when the great web site disaster of 2015 happened.

Update coming soon.

“7 High”

Recollections of a Combat Defense Squadron “Ramp Rat”

Chapter 10

“Big Sky Country”

References

Steinbeck in Vietnam, “Dispatches from the War”, Edited by Thomas E. Barden, 2012.

http://www.amazon.com/Steinbeck-Vietnam-Dispatches-War-John

Yes, THE John Steinbeck. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Steinbeck

Air Base Defense in the Republic of Vietnam, 1961-1973, by Roger P. Fox, 1979.

http://www.amazon.com/Base-Defense-Republic-Vietnam-1961-1973

As of 2004 we still hadn’t figured it out.

http://www.airpower.maxwell.af.mil/airchronicles/bookrev/fox.html

Air base defense (ABD) remains a riddle in the US Air Force. In October 2004, Lt Gen Ronald E. Keys, the Air Force’s deputy chief of staff for air and space operations, told a Naval Postgraduate School audience that ABD was one of five critical problems facing the Air Force. The general based his concern on the fact that air bases in Iraq have suffered well over 1,000 attacks (twice the rate of occurrence in the Vietnam War)

http://en.wikipedia.org/

Street without Joy, “The French Debacle in Indochina”, by Bernard B. Fall, 1961.

http://www.amazon.com/Street-Without-Joy-Indochina-Stackpole

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernard_Fall

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Street_Without_Joy

Go Tell the Spartans, Bert Lancaster, DVD, 2005.

http://www.amazon.com/Go-Tell-Spartans-Burt-Lancaster

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Go_Tell_the_Spartans

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Ford

The BEST novel of the Vietnam War.

Fields of Fire, by James Webb, 1978

http://www.amazon.com/Fields-Fire-James-Webb