Command and Control

The airmen entered the launch duct at level 2. Far above their heads was a concrete silo door. It was supposed to protect the missile from the wind and the rain and the effects of a nuclear weapon detonating nearby. The door weighed 740 tons. Far below the men, beneath the Titan II, a concrete flame deflector shaped like a W was installed to guide the hot gases downward at launch, then upward through exhaust vents and out of the silo. The missile stood on a thrust mount, a steel ring at level 7 that weighed about 26,000 pounds. The thrust mount was attached to the walls by large springs, so that the Titan II could ride out a nuclear attack, bounce instead of break, and then take off.

In addition to the W-53 warhead and a few hundred thousand pounds of propellants, many other things in the silo could detonate. Electroexplosive devices were used after ignition to free the missile from the thrust mount, separate stage 2 from stage 1, release the nose cone. The missile also housed numerous small rocket engines with flammable solid fuel to adjust the pitch and the roll of the warhead midflight. The Titan II launch complex had been carefully designed to minimize the risk of having so many flammables and explosives within it. Fire detectors, fire suppression systems, toxic vapor detectors, and decontamination showers were scattered throughout the nine levels of the silo. These safety devices were bolstered by strict safety rules.

Whenever a PTS team member put on a RFHCO, he had to be accompanied by someone else in a RFHCO, with two other people waiting as backup, ready to put on their suits. Every Category I task had to be performed according to a standardized checklist, which the team chief usually read aloud over the radio communications network. There was one way to do everything — and only one way. Technical Order 21M-LGM25C-2-12, Figure 2-18, told Powell and Plumb exactly what to do as they stood on the platform near the missile.

“Step four,” the PTS team chief said over the radio. “Remove airborne disconnect pressure cap.”

“Roger,” Powell replied.

“Caution. When complying with step four, do not exceed one hundred sixty foot-pounds of torque. Overtorquing may result in damage to the missile skin.”

“Roger.”

As Powell used a socket wrench to unscrew the pressure cap, the socket fell off. It struck the platform and bounced. Powell grabbed for it but missed.

Plumb watched the nine-pound socket slip through the narrow gap between the platform and the missile, fall about seventy feet, hit the thrust mount, and then ricochet off the Titan II. It seemed to happen in slow motion. A moment later, fuel sprayed from a hole in the missile like water from a garden hose.

“Oh man,” Plumb thought. “This is not good.”

New Wave

Earlier that day, Second Lieutenant Allan D. Childers had gotten out of bed around five, showered, put on his uniform, kissed his wife good-bye, grabbed his overnight bag, and headed for the predeparture briefing at Little Rock Air Force Base. Childers was the deputy commander of a Titan II missile combat crew. At seven o’clock every morning, the crews about to pull an alert gathered in a large room at the headquarters of the 308th Strategic Missile Wing. The 308th operated eighteen Titan II launch complexes in Arkansas, each with a single missile and a four-man crew. The wing’s motto was Non sibi sed aliis—“Not for self but for others.” While senior officers and staff stood in the front of the briefing room, each combat crew sat at its own small table.

Childers took a seat with his crew. Captain Michael T. Mazzaro was the commander, a brilliant young officer from Massachusetts, about five foot eight, with thinning brown hair. Staff Sergeant Rodney L. Holder was the missile systems analyst technician, the one who made sure the missile was always ready to go. He looked a lot like Childers, tall and thin with fair hair and glasses. Staff Sergeant Ronald O. Fuller, handsome and baby faced, from Elmira, New York, was the missile facilities technician. His job focused on the workings of the launch site. Once or twice a week, the four of them began their days at one of these briefings and then spent the next twenty-four hours together underground, monitoring their missile; supervising maintenance at the site; constantly practicing, training, and awaiting the order to launch.