Atom Bomb & Me?

Obama’s victory with the Salt 11 treaty reminded me of an experience with the Nuclear problem back in the 1970s. Nixon was President. He was trying to show off his nice side. One of these “nice” projects was a job training program on the Sioux Indian Reservation in a God forsaken place called Wolf Point Montana. Trying to woo Ford Foundation support the President invited McGeorge Bundy, Mac President of the Foundation to join the Assistant Secretary of Defense, Robert Charles at a Job Training Inauguration on the Reservation.

Bundy suggested that Mike Sviridoff Ford Foundation VP. for National Affairs go as he knew more about job development. As the downward spiral continued Mike suggested, “we send Schrank he’s our job training expert.” There I was, 8AM at Andrews Air-force base ready to take off in Air Force 2 for Wolf Point Montana. All the necessary papers had been sent ahead that admitted me to the Base and the plane.

Upon boarding I was introduced to a motley bunch of reporters from all over the world including 3-4 Russians from the Tass news agency. (Remember the Cold War was in full swing at the time.) The seating on the plane was against the outside wall with a long center counter loaded with all kinds of goodies from nuts to booze and nuts to booze. Reporters who have an accepted tendency toward alcohol were just proving the point with early morning Bloody Mary’s. Maybe it’s the tomato juice that makes the boozers think “it’s a breakfast drink!”

We made a fuel stop at Minneapolis and then on to Wolf Point. The major topic of discussion amongst this weird collection of folk was “where’s the worlds best restaurant?” Soon after take off the wife of the Assistant Secretary of defense emerged as the Maitre De. She seemed to win out with the choice of Wing Loo in Kowloon.

As the plane was on approach at Wolf Point it seemed to me we were going in circles. (I had done some flying. I loved it until the bill at the end of the fourth or fifth month made me realize this was not an affordable hobby.)

At the flight deck I listened to the conversation between the three crew members. There was no control tower. A pea soup fog just hung over the area. Captain said,” “We just gotta be able to see this friggin air strip. One more try and then we’re outa here.” This was visual flying and there was no ground to be seen. The Captain advised the Secretary and suggested “we find the nearest field with instrument landing facility so we can, put this plane down safely.” The Secretary reluctantly agreed as we would miss the start up ceremony. It turned out that Maimstrom Missile Base was the nearest safest place for us to land. The base was about 15 minutes away. They were notified. The Base Commander told Secretary Charles we might make it to Wolf Point by Helicopter. Or we could make it the following morning. If the fog cleared?

As we were getting ready to land at Maimstrom I realized that I too was half crocked from a couple of -------I don’t know what? The plane lands. Taxi’s up to the Gate. There’s a red carpet and a Band playing Hail to the Chief. As we deplane, Haynes Johnson a reporter for the Washington Post is poking me, for God sake Schrank salute at we go by the flag. I was now feeling like Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times as he came up out of the sewer with his red flag in hand to end up a May day parade.

The Base Commander welcomed his distinguished guests to one of Americas “first lines of defense.” Reporting the weather, he indicates we would not be able to get to Wolf Point until noon tomorrow. So, what would we like to do in the morning? Secretary of Defense wife suggests, a visit a missile sight and see exactly how our multiple missile warheads might work in a real war emergency?”

Oh my God I near fainted. Because of my radical past I couldn’t get a pass to go pee in the Pentagon. And here were all these Tass reporters from Russia. Others from Eastern European News Agencies I never heard of. Here we were about to be shown Americas top secret.

Next morning, bright and clear we were on our way to the “demonstration Silo.” Out came the mostly little “spy” cameras as the whole bunch were clicking away as though it was a wedding party. Then in groups of 2-3 we went down the Silo and were shown a cutaway of the multiple warheads and the gyroscopes that would control the flight pattern and finally the nuke part that would send the whole three tons skyward. I admit it was fascinating to see how this deadly machine had been put together. (Old machinist could not help admiring the engineering. Except when I thought how it would or could be used.)

Around this time there had been an accident at a missile base in Arizona. Somebody dropped a wrench down a Silo and the missile exploded. Why? Turned out nobody was sure except some Air Force mechanics said because of poor maintenance nobody knew for sure what might happen if we launched these suckers.

At the bottom of the Silo sat two Air Force officers who when called upon would unlock separate boxes on the wall take out a key insert it into a ready to launch lock click it and wait. The actual firing is controlled from an underground bunker somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.. I asked the guys how they were spending their time down here at the bottom of the Silo? They were both going to school. One to be a lawyer the other a doctor. Schmoozing with them I asked about the Arizona episode? They laughed, agreed that “yeah nobody can tell for sure what happens if we ever had to launch.” “Hell if we don’t know what they’ll do think of what those Rooskys know? There’s would probably never leave the ground. Nobody knows and I sure as hell don’t want to find out.”

In the afternoon we went on to Wolf Point and the training program. The Sioux were being taught how to rebuild M16 rifles that were by then pretty obsolete. At the time the rifles were mostly being used for guard duty at Army bases. Watching the trainees using sledge hammers to remove the sights from the barrels convinced me that this was another joke being perpetrated on Indians. Some company out of Texas had the contract to operate the program. When I inquired about the value of what they were doing I was told. “THEY gotta learn how to walk before THEY can run.” The minute I hear “THEY.” I realized this was this same old bullshit that the oppressed need to prove first that “THEY” can do it and then we’ll let them in. This program like so many others would result in the opposite. “Well we tried but THEY just couldn’t cut the mustard. We can’t just molly coddle these people.” The Secretary and his wife were given fancy Indian Headdress and some blankets. They thanked the Indians and we started our trip back home.

I reported my experience to Sviridoff and Mac. Mac asked me what I was going to report to the Administration about the training program? With a twinkle in his eye, “how is all that whining and dining going to effect your report?” “About Maimstrom or about the training program?” Unless you have any strong objection it will be the way I told it.” He looked at Mike, said, “I bet you knew that. Is that why we sent him?” They were the best two bosses I ever had. Somehow I was pleased to tell my Anti Nuclear friends, “nothing to worry about, chances are, they will never get those rusty old Nukes out of the Silos.” I wished.