Conversations, part 3

Storm clouds, Montana

DAVID MILLER, A RANCHER and the owner of Central Montana Real Estate in Harlowton, owns land bordering on the five or six acres of Kilo 1, the launch control center north of town. He said the land was sold to the Air Force by a previous owner. He didn’t know much about the missile operation except for the familiar sight of armed convoys and helicopters.

Miller once plowed up a sensing device outside a missile site fence, which brought Air Force security in about 40 minutes, “Not too happy with what I had done, but courteous.” On another occasion, he assisted a young Air Force driver, a black airman from a city in the east, after the man and his 4-wheel drive vehicle were hopelessly stuck in deep snow on a rural road. “The fellow did not know how to put chains on his vehicle and knew nothing about driving in snow.” Miller offered to help. The airman was reluctant because of strict rules against unauthorized persons getting too close to the equipment. Miller told the young man he would freeze to death if he didn’t get moving, so Miller was allowed to chain up and drive the vehicle out of the snow drift, a three-hour ordeal.

“Otherwise, about all I have ever heard about the Air Force are stories about security people shooting foxes from helicopters.”

Julie Woodard, in her late 30s, a sales agent who works with Miller, remembers grade school recesses when she and her schoolmates played games involving nuclear scenarios dreamed up by the children, usually of the nightmare variety, probably inspired by the presence of the missiles. “Adults never talk about them. The missiles have always been here. I suppose that’s why the subject doesn’t come up,” Woodard said. She has never visited a missile site and knows of no one who has.

SNOWY MOUNTAIN COFFEE, a popular hangout at U.S. 12-191 and Central, is owned and operated by Jennifer Zink, a young woman and a Navy veteran. “I’ve never visited a missile site and I’ve been living here since I was four years old. Nothing was mentioned about missiles when I was in school even though they are a big part of history.”

I agreed and told her that in spite of the importance of nuclear weapons in American history I had never seen any mention of Minuteman in the array of historical markers along Montana highways. Surprising, I said, because Montana had a pioneering role in the Minuteman force, with the first 10 missiles going on alert in 1962. “Every time a chicken crosses the road, a road sign gives every detail,” I said, “but nothing about missiles.” She laughed, and said she noticed the launch sites because of the thin white poles.

(The thin white poles, 15-20 feet high and pointed at the top, are made of fiberglass and contain communications and surveillance equipment related to the launch site. Because of their color and prominence in an often brownish landscape, they are the quickest identifiable object indicating a launch facility.)

Sherri Randles, publisher of The Times-Clarion weekly paper, provided no missile anecdotes when I asked her about missile news. “From the Air Force? None. They never tell us anything. They don’t want us to know anything.”

I asked a former missile launch officer, Bruce G. Blair, how often he had talked to local people. Blair answered by email.

“I served two years at Malmstrom, 1972-74, assigned to Kilo, which was the ACP (Alternative Command Post) for the entire wing. I breezed into and out of Kilo without ever interacting with the local citizens except for a coffee shop break halfway back to Great Falls after an alert stint,” he said. “Probably the only folks at Kilo who interacted regularly with the locals were the security cops making their rounds to check silos.”

Blair went on to become a research scholar at Princeton University, and is prominent in efforts to reduce nuclear arms. He is a co-founder of Global Zero, an international movement seeking the elimination of nuclear weapons.

When Blair mentioned the coffee shop, he likely was referring to Eddies Corner north of Harlowton at the intersection of highways 191 and 87, “the crossroads of central Montana.” This truck stop and café is important enough to that part of Montana to be named on the state highway map.

It is a frequent stop for Air Force missile personnel, either officers like Lt. Blair or enlisted men who are on maintenance or security duty in the missile field. Eddies Corner is the sort of place where the back door to the toilets is left unlocked late at night for the convenience of travelers after the business is closed. I asked a couple of the waitresses, who were very chatty, about the missile folks.

“BIG EATERS. A TYPICAL ORDER is chicken fried steak with bacon, cheese and eggs and french fries. The base price for that order would be $8.25 with added charges for the extras. At times, local people will pay the entire bill for a group. One of our customers handed a missile man a $100 bill to pay the tab. Local folks are grateful for the sacrifices they are making.”

One waitress remembered an incident that was not so friendly. “A cowboy saw a young Air force fellow buy a chaw of tobacco. The cowboy said the stuff was ‘girly chew’ and asked the young man if he swallowed or spit. The young guy said ‘spit.’“

“The cowboy told him, ‘Maybe when you start shaving, you’ll swallow.’"

Air Force security vehicle outside Eddies Corner

“THEY ARE NICE KIDS, well mannered. The officers, though, keep themselves apart from the enlisted, and usually eat separately in the back room,” she said.

On his way to Eddies Corner, 44 miles north of Harlowton on U.S. 191, Blair would have passed within sight of five missile launch sites and two missile alert facilities. Within sight if you know what you are looking for. Look for the white pencil pole, tall antennas and three electrical transformers overhead at the launch sites, and for control centers, look for the bland beige ranch house and outbuildings, sturdy fence and antennas, American flag on a pole. One launch site, L-7, is a few hundred yards from the truck stop. The 90-mile drive to Malmstrom AFB from Eddies Corner, through mostly rangeland with mountains in the distance, means nine launch sites and three control centers, at least for the observant and sharp-eyed traveler, with help from “Nuclear Heartland,” a book with detailed maps and descriptions of missile launch sites. Many more sites are out of sight on gravel roads far off the main highway.

The first Minuteman III launch control center

ONE OF THE MISSILE ALERT CENTERS, along U.S. 87, is A01, Alpha 1, the first Minuteman launch control center to become operational, in October 1962. Alpha 1, with its flight of 10 Minuteman I missiles, may have been a factor in the peaceful resolution of the Cuban Missile Crisis, at least according to legend. The story is that President Kennedy referred to Alpha 1 as his “ace in the hole,” a new missile force in America’s already “awesome” superiority in intercontinental ballistic missiles. This nickname for Alpha 1 is part of the notice at the gate to Alpha 1. However, the accuracy of this description has been questioned as nothing more than a slogan dreamed up by the defense industry to encourage a missile buildup.

A RIVAL TO THE POPULARITY of Eddies Corner among the Air Force personnel is the Big Sky Grocery, a deli and bulk food store, also known as “the Amish deli,” just up the highway toward Great Falls from the truck stop. Big Sky is an anomaly in rural central Montana, since it is a well-stocked deli located in an isolated environment surrounded by Minuteman missiles and a pro-military population. The store is operated by the Reuben and Linda Miller family from a nearby Amish community, traditionally religious pacifists, people one might assume would be at least somewhat at odds with anyone connected to the lethality of the Minuteman.

Not necessarily. Martha, a young Amish woman waiting on customers, said airmen on missile duty were frequent customers. “Very polite. We like having them.”

They buy mostly milk shakes, sandwiches, and snacks. Three uniformed airmen rushed out loaded with purchases while I was chatting with the cashier.

Geyser, Montana, population 500 give or take, is 10 miles from Alpha 1, the reputed “ace in the hole” launch control facility. The local postmistress, Linda Annala, and her husband own ranchland that includes a missile site of about an acre surrounded by cattle grazing land. No problems.

“Yes, everyone here knows about the Ace in the Hole site, the guys with the buttons.”

Generally, the Air Force is regarded as a good neighbor, she said. “The Air Force has improved the roads and rebuilt a bridge.” Of course, these improvements resulted from the need for good roads and substantial bridges for the transport of missiles and related material. The missiles alone weigh close to 80,000 pounds.

A FAMILIAR SIGHT is the movement of replacement missiles, accompanied by a convoy of missile transporter and armored vehicles with helicopters overhead and plenty of guns in sight. Residents also are accustomed to being tailed by helicopters if they act interested in a missile convoy. Ms. Annala followed one on her way home and when she turned off on her road a helicopter followed her, apparently to be sure she lived in the area.

Local people, she said, do not have much close contact with the Air Force personnel. “Sometimes they help out with vehicle accidents and my husband, who’s a volunteer firefighter and emergency aid person, says the Air Force often offers help in emergencies. Little things, too. Once, I saw an airman help a frail old lady across a street in Geyser.”

She agreed with the military emphasis in Montana and America in general even though the Cold War ended when the Soviet Union fell apart in 1991. “The Cold War may be over, but there are other threats,” she said.

ANOTHER CONVERSATION was with a professor in Bozeman, who will remain anonymous. He was a rare bird, a civilian who was knowledgeable about missiles in the American West. He had worked as a civilian contractor for the Defense Department during the Reagan years, the 1980s, a golden age for military expenditures. One of his assignments was to assess the vulnerability of Minuteman silos to incoming missiles. I asked him how close a missile would have to hit to cause serious damage. Without going into details, he replied, “Not very close.” The durability of concrete, whether a target or not, is a question open for discussion, he said.

He enjoyed the military contract work. “Where else could a young guy have so much fun blowing up things?”

Near a missile launch site