Despite all of the talk of First Strikes versus retaliatory strikes; and Mutual Assured Destruction (M.A.D.); and throw weight; and MRVs and MIRVs; and a nuclear triad of land-based missiles, submarine-based missiles, and armed bombers on Alert 24/7; somehow the whole crazy scheme, in retrospect, worked. Despite the fears and the enormous costs and all of the sacrifices by everyone involved, the United States and its allies, nuclear and non-nuclear powers, and the Soviet Union and its allies never did turn the keys (it was not a "button") to launch the missiles that would have effectively destroyed the world.
Despite all of the many brinkmanship crises during the Cold War and the several hot wars that flared up around the globe, it never came to that.
Those of us on alert simply hauled our alert stash out each 36-hour or 24-hour alert in large, green, canvas crew bags. Within them we carried out our own food when we got very tired of the generally bland or nasty-tasting foil packs that they served at the sites. We also brought out books and magazines and porn and newspapers. Before there were radios and TVs in the capsules in my last year or so on alert, we did whatever we could to pass the long hours when we didn't have anything else to do but watch the many missile status indicators, answer the phones, communicate with topside personnel, and wait for our relief to arrive at the end of our shift(s) below ground.
Some of us worked on getting a Master's Degree. Even though we weren't supposed to for the first few years I was at Minot, at least one of us was asleep most of the time. Later, they cut the size of the crew force by one third to save money, adjusted back to 24-hour alerts, put a magic strip of tape over the Plexiglas covers that guarded the key holes, and one crewman at a time could now legally sleep on alert. Rarely were alerts anything but boring. But the boredom and the threat of complete annihilation kept the peace for approximately three decades until the Soviet Empire fell apart and the Cold War faded into memory and history books.
Missile Launch Facility (Golgotha)
I know it now.
As long ago as these were implanted
there is no war.
Despite all of the many brinkmanship crises during the Cold War and the several hot wars that flared up around the globe, it never came to that.
Those of us on alert simply hauled our alert stash out each 36-hour or 24-hour alert in large, green, canvas crew bags. Within them we carried out our own food when we got very tired of the generally bland or nasty-tasting foil packs that they served at the sites. We also brought out books and magazines and porn and newspapers. Before there were radios and TVs in the capsules in my last year or so on alert, we did whatever we could to pass the long hours when we didn't have anything else to do but watch the many missile status indicators, answer the phones, communicate with topside personnel, and wait for our relief to arrive at the end of our shift(s) below ground.
Some of us worked on getting a Master's Degree. Even though we weren't supposed to for the first few years I was at Minot, at least one of us was asleep most of the time. Later, they cut the size of the crew force by one third to save money, adjusted back to 24-hour alerts, put a magic strip of tape over the Plexiglas covers that guarded the key holes, and one crewman at a time could now legally sleep on alert. Rarely were alerts anything but boring. But the boredom and the threat of complete annihilation kept the peace for approximately three decades until the Soviet Empire fell apart and the Cold War faded into memory and history books.
Missile Launch Facility (Golgotha)
I know it now.
As long ago as these were implanted
there is no war.
At the point of succeeding fear,
through the great, wide extremities of earth,
these silver spikes are driven.
The heart is spared,
but spirit urges lie as a sacrifice.
Fenced-in, connected sections cross the plains,
stunned against the thought of taking life.
We bind both savior and vampire alike--
each victim.
through the great, wide extremities of earth,
these silver spikes are driven.
The heart is spared,
but spirit urges lie as a sacrifice.
Fenced-in, connected sections cross the plains,
stunned against the thought of taking life.
We bind both savior and vampire alike--
each victim.
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