The Cold War in my backyard - stories for my Grandchildren

I am friends on Facebook with a fellow who posts old pictures about Texas. Perhaps you are, too - several hundred thousand folks enjoy the Traces of Texas pictures. If you haven't seen these, just search for Traces of Texas and click on "Like."

The other day. one of the posted pictures was of an Atlas "F" rocket, standing upright in downtown Abilene.

The Atlas rocket was the engine that the majority of US Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs) were based on; the delivery vehicle of nuclear bombs in other words. This was in the early '60s, the height of the Cold War between the US and Russia and the detente based on Mutual Destruction, or "My nukes can destroy your cities even if your nukes destroy ours," not to put too fine a point on it.  It was an uncomfortable time for all.

The rocket was on display in downtown Abilene as sort of a PR gesture from nearby Dyess AFB. It was generally acknowledged that Dyess, Abilene and a large chunk of west Texas would disappear if there ever was an actual nuclear war. The base was (and still is) home to long-range bombers - B-47s and B-52s at that time. It was then a Strategic Air Command base, a key element of the US offensive capability, and still plays that role today with one of only two B-1B bomber groups positioned there.

So the Atlas rocket was on display to assure the good citizens of west Texas that they had our back, because this bad boy and 11 others just like it were locked and loaded in hardened missile silos located in a big ring around Dyess, and this complex was one of 71 other sites just like it, ringing strategic targets all over the United States.

I came upon this very rocket quite by surprise very early one morning. My shift at the radio station ended at midnight, and that night I drove through downtown on my way back to the dorm, so that I could mail some letters at the downtown post office. I turned down 4th to Walnut and there it was, standing tall and lit up like a Christmas Tree! It was an amazing sight and rather eerie. There were a few military vehicles parked nearby, and I'm certain there was some kind of guard detail somewhere, but they didn't have much of a presence at 1am in the morning.

This particular Atlas F was a dummy, an empty shell from top to bottom. The real missiles were so thin-skinned that they depended on the liquid oxygen fuel load to keep them rigid when standing without support. But as it happens, I also came upon a real one, standing tall and lit up like a Christmas Tree, and again in the wee hours of the morning - and it was the real deal.

One of the underground silos was located just outside Albany, Texas, about 30 miles east of Abilene. If you are familiar with highway 180, you will recall that when you are eastbound you start down a long hill, dropping off of the Edwards Plateau, just a few miles before you reach Albany. On your right, just as you start that descent, is a small rise and on the flat portion of that rise, just off the highway, was Silo #2.

I was driving from Abilene to Breckenridge one night - again, after my shift ended at midnight, and I noticed a glow to my right. Visible from the highway was a fully loaded, nuclear-armed Atlas F ICBM. I knew it was the real thing, because oxygen vapor was coming off in a big plume. As I recall, I was praying all the way to Breckenridge that what I saw was a drill, and that the rocket had been fueled and hoisted out of the silo as a readiness exercise.

It is an interesting side note that the 72 underground silos, each costing about $15 million (equivalent to more than $100 million in today's dollars), were operational for less than 5 years. The liquid oxygen fueled rockets were too expensive, too fragile, and too slow to launch for military purpose. The hardened silos were to protect them while they were made ready to fire, which included fueling them. They were kept unfueled except for drills such as the one I happened upon, because the LOX was too corrosive and too volatile. More than one silo experienced "total failure" during this period - military jargon for "the missile blew up in the silo."

As the Cold War de-escalated (and solid fuel rocket engines became the weapon de jour), all the equipment was pulled out, the Atlas Fs went to the space program, the silos were filled in, or just abandoned, reverting to the original land owner. Some are used for homes, or quirky hotels, or scuba diving instruction, and many an ACU student paid a clandestine visit to the poorly shuttered Silo #1 at Fort Phantom Hill.

And that's how the Cold War ended up in my backyard - or more precisely, along my route.