Subterranean bunker converted to historical display
Posted 11/7/2007
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by Tech. Sgt. Pat McKenna
Air Force News Agency
11/7/2007 - WHITEMAN AIR FORCE BASE, Mo. (AFPN) -- On the surface, Oscar One appears innocent. Underground, well, that's another story.
The nondescript single-story building seems like any other on Whiteman Air Force Base in Knob Noster, Mo.
Just 50 yards away from "O-1," families stroll through Ike Skelton Park, picnicking, flying kites and feeding ducks on the lake. Off-duty airmen play intramural softball near here, and base residents thrive in a quiet, unhurried community across from the lake.
This tranquillity, however, belies the grave nature of the mission once carried out here in central Missouri. Oscar One is a Minuteman II launch control facility -- the only operational LCF ever located inside the gates of a U.S. military installation.
Oscar One, however, has lost its bite, defanged on Sept. 7, 1993, as part of the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty. The subterranean bunker, which wielded an arsenal of 10 nuclear-tipped, two-megaton missiles, is now booming as a tourist attraction. After its deactivation, Whiteman converted the facility into a historical display, and now guides visitors through its belly each week. (Editor's note: Article reprinted from Airman magazine, August 1997)
Master Sgt. Roger "Hook" Hooker, O-1's curator and 509th Bomb Wing historian, said most sightseers end up having a blast.
"The high point of the tour is getting your picture taken in the command chair, pushing the 'button,'" Hooker said.
Construction began on Whiteman's ranges in 1962, during the darkest days of the Cold War, at a cost of $75 million. The now-inactive 351st Strategic Missile Wing dispersed its arsenal -- 150 silos and 15 launch control facilities -- over 14 counties and more than 10,000 square miles, an area bigger than Massachusetts. Silos were built three to five miles apart to avoid the possibility of a single enemy missile from destroying more than one Minuteman.
In June 1964, Oscar One became Whiteman's final LCF to stand up, and by the end of the decade, the Air Force had 1,000 Minuteman IIs scattered across America's heartland. The sites dotted cow pastures and cornfields near Whiteman; Malmstrom AFB, Mont.; Ellsworth AFB, S.D.; F.E. Warren AFB, Wyo.; and Minot and Grand Forks AFBs, N.D.
Today, the darts in the country's intercontinental ballistic missile quiver have dwindled. Its cadre of missile launch officers - peaking at about 2,200 in the '70s - has shrunk.
After former President George Bush stood down nuclear alert on Sept. 27, 1991, the Air Force began dismantling its stockpile of ICBMs. Nowadays, when the button is pushed at Whiteman, it blows up a silo instead of launching a missile [ to actually launch an ICBM keys and switches are turned]. Contractors are demolishing an average of two sites a week, and should finish imploding the base's 150 silos by summer's end. They'll also plug and seal the elevator shafts of all 15 LCF's, except for Oscar One.
According to Sergeant Hooker, Oscar One is one of the more popular stops on the public affairs tour route at Whiteman - home to the B-2 stealth bomber - receiving about 280 visitors monthly.
Tours begin topside with a mission briefing in which Sergeant Hooker discloses "intel" on the ranges and Minuteman II. He explains that, during construction of the silos, 168,000 cubic yards of concrete were poured and almost 1,800 miles of intersite cable laid. He tells how the 60-foot-high Minuteman II could travel at 15,000 mph, delivering a one- or two-ton payload 5,500 miles away.
"Worldwide delivery in 30 minutes or less, guaranteed," the historian says. Fortunately, we never launched one in anger. Once fired, they were gone, and we couldn't recall them. There was no 'Oops' button."
Guests then walk through the security control room, a guard station where armed sentries kept watch for trespassers and monitored intrusion alarms linked to Oscar's 10 silos. Next stop is the trophy room. A glass case inside holds six Blanchard Trophies, awarded to the winner of Strategic Air Command's annual missile competition held at Vandenberg AFB, Calif.
You're then led to an elevator having only two buttons for "up" and "down," and descend 45 feet into Oscar's ballistic burrow. Stepping out you go past an eight-ton blast door into a tunnel, branching off into two compartments. The right one leads to the capsule that cloistered a pair of missileers, and going left is the area containing life-support equipment, which includes a 750-gallon potable water tank, diesel-engine generator, and an air-filtration system. A pair of launch control officers could subsist underground for 30 to 45 days without outside assistance, but normally they only pulled a 24-hour shift.
Entering the launch control center, you step over a metal gangway to a second blast door and get a glimpse of gigantic shock absorbers, which supported the cylindrical structure. Everything is equipped with springs, just in case they had to ride out the shock wave of a nuclear attack. Inside, you're greeted by a mannequin dressed in a Cold War-era uniform and discover an interior about the size of a railroad car, only a tad shorter.
The two missileers sat in console chairs, mounted on a track, in front of electronic equipment, computer terminals and light panels. From here, the two officers, normally captains and lieutenants, could keep an eye on the status of the arsenal, and, if ordered by the president, fire the missiles.
Each missile had its own bank of lights. Normally, the top light was illuminated - a green rectangle reading "Strategic Alert." The bottom light, however, never gleamed - "Missiles Away."
Sergeant Hooker said SAC incorporated many fail-safes into the missile system to prevent accidental or unauthorized launching. Both an authentication code and launch code are needed for firing, and only the commander in chief has access to the latter. Two keys must be turned and held simultaneously, and the keyholes are located 12 feet apart, requiring concurrence by both officers to launch. The final command to launch also needed another "vote" from outside Oscar One - either another launch control center or from an airborne command center.
"I heard there were more than 50 million different combinations of the launch codes. You'd have a better chance of hitting a lottery jackpot than finding the right sequence," Sergeant Hooker said.
At the end of the tour, Sergeant Hooker pointed out a mural painted near the entrance of the launch capsule. It shows Sesame Street's Oscar the Grouch inside a trash can with a caption reading, "The Grouch Is In."
Explaining its meaning, he said, "Oscar One was the most visited LCF in the Air Force, because of its location on a base proper. Launch crews sometimes got impatient because of all the DV [distinguished visitor] visits and traffic coming down here. It'd mess up their routine. They'd have to sanitize all the classified, then police the place up. I guess it got old.
"Personally, I'd don't mind showing this place off. Actually, I love it. I think it's an important piece of history. People need to know that places like Oscar One were largely responsible for winning the Cold War.
"So I'm not a grouch - I'd say I'm more of a Big Bird," Sergeant Hooker quipped with a disarming smile.
Editor's note: Article reprinted from Airman magazine, August 1997
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