One of the significant temporary assignments three missile crews could have was to be selected to launch an actual missile at Vandenberg AFB in California. My commander, Tim Sholtis, and I were chosen as one of the three crews to launch a special missile with a top secret warhead.
At the time the U.S. and Soviet Union held Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT), and to reach, and sign, agreements related to reducing the numbers of missiles or their warheads. Instead of the normal three MIRVs on this missile, the missile we were to launch had significantly more warheads than three.
Now, exactly how many warheads, at the time, was top secret. We were told how many we were launching. And the Russians always had spy trawlers anchored in international waters off Kwajelein atoll. So, when the several separate warheads hit those same waters, the Russians would be aware of how many there were.
I mean, that was the whole point of conducting this test launch: let the Russians know that if they did not agree to our objectives during the SALT talks, the U.S. might deploy these new many-headed warheads on all land-based missiles. They could not keep up with the proliferation of nuclear warheads at this rate.
It was a wonderful assignment. We got to fly out to California in a KC-135 tanker. We got to lie flat on the boom operator's console and look out the lower back end of the tanker as we crossed over the snow-covered Rocky Mountains. We landed at Vandenberg. We got to pull our rotating alerts in the launch center that was above ground. We could leave the door open and simply step outside to a fenced-in patio and look at the California coast and feel the warmth of the sun. On our days off, I could visit friends or relatives near LA. We got to eat at local restaurants that were far superior to anything in Minot.
It was a great two-week vacation and a definite highlight to my entire four-plus years in missiles. And, of course, the launch was a complete success. Now, because my commander and I took the shift schedule that got us an extra day or two off, we were not one of the two crews who actually turned the launch keys and launched the missile. But we were able to step outside and actually watch the missile rise out of the LF. We could bring our cameras and snap away. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Pave Pepper Missile Launch, Vandenberg AFB 1975
The phenomena of manning flight
have lost significance
(and remember the expense).
But launching missiles preserves the Fourth of July.
The flashing of thrust and the roar
is a wonder never every day.
With all the tense anticipating of a match
set to the first fuse,
we waited for the tilting thing to lift its big foot
before putting down--
adding some grains of pepper
to all this SALT talk.
At the time the U.S. and Soviet Union held Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT), and to reach, and sign, agreements related to reducing the numbers of missiles or their warheads. Instead of the normal three MIRVs on this missile, the missile we were to launch had significantly more warheads than three.
Now, exactly how many warheads, at the time, was top secret. We were told how many we were launching. And the Russians always had spy trawlers anchored in international waters off Kwajelein atoll. So, when the several separate warheads hit those same waters, the Russians would be aware of how many there were.
I mean, that was the whole point of conducting this test launch: let the Russians know that if they did not agree to our objectives during the SALT talks, the U.S. might deploy these new many-headed warheads on all land-based missiles. They could not keep up with the proliferation of nuclear warheads at this rate.
It was a wonderful assignment. We got to fly out to California in a KC-135 tanker. We got to lie flat on the boom operator's console and look out the lower back end of the tanker as we crossed over the snow-covered Rocky Mountains. We landed at Vandenberg. We got to pull our rotating alerts in the launch center that was above ground. We could leave the door open and simply step outside to a fenced-in patio and look at the California coast and feel the warmth of the sun. On our days off, I could visit friends or relatives near LA. We got to eat at local restaurants that were far superior to anything in Minot.
It was a great two-week vacation and a definite highlight to my entire four-plus years in missiles. And, of course, the launch was a complete success. Now, because my commander and I took the shift schedule that got us an extra day or two off, we were not one of the two crews who actually turned the launch keys and launched the missile. But we were able to step outside and actually watch the missile rise out of the LF. We could bring our cameras and snap away. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Pave Pepper Missile Launch, Vandenberg AFB 1975
The phenomena of manning flight
have lost significance
(and remember the expense).
But launching missiles preserves the Fourth of July.
The flashing of thrust and the roar
is a wonder never every day.
With all the tense anticipating of a match
set to the first fuse,
we waited for the tilting thing to lift its big foot
before putting down--
adding some grains of pepper
to all this SALT talk.
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