Hot Day for a Cold War: Minuteman Missile Nat'l Historic Site 6/5/11

The day started in a panic. Because our hotel in Rapid City, SD was about an hour away from the actual site - and the contact station would begin handing out tour tickets at 8am sharp - we knew we'd have an early start, as reservations were not allowed for weekend visits. Amble in around noon, and you'd likely be turned away. Given that this was our one and only day in the area, we couldn't take any chances. I would be at that front door before 8:00, and certainly not a moment after. I prepared Brooke for the headache of a pre-dawn awakening, and promised as many cold water slaps as necessary to get her going. As a precaution, I also set the alarm on my cell phone, as, well, that guy downstairs could forget about that wake-up call, could he not? After all, he had no idea about our plans for the day. Maybe I should just stay up all night. Or how about camping out at the visitor center to guarantee success? Given my inherent pessimism, I pretty much figured I'd somehow manage to sleep in, get a flat tire, and run out of gas, ensuring a disappointing return to Denver.

My cell phone, thankfully, buzzed me awake at 5:35am. I bolted upright and headed to the shower, taking no chances. Wait a second....the hotel phone never rang. I knew it! I'll have that kid's job. So why did the clock say it was 4:35? It had to be wrong. After getting ready, I roared for Brooke to get up. She too noticed the clock. I kept insisting it was wrong, but her own phone noted the early hour. And what about the TV? A live program couldn't be part of the conspiracy, could it? After several more minutes of fruitless debate, I conceded reality: my cell phone had, for no reason whatsoever, switched time zones. The Central Zone was a good two hours away, but my cheap-ass, no good device had decided that today - and never before - it would cheat me out of a precious hour of sleep. So while Brooke went back to bed for a bit more rest, I went downstairs to the hotel's business center, clicking away my frustration on a painfully slow computer. Nevertheless, we would in fact get there on time. I was awake, aware, and ready to go.

Minuteman Missile National Historic Site is a tale of three cities, in fact, as the experience is not contained within a single building or patch of ground. After picking up your tickets at the contact station (located by a Conoco station near the eastern entrance to Badlands National Park), stick around for a few minutes and watch the movie. Our version was kid-friendly (there were about a half-dozen wee ones crammed into the front room), but informative, and it set the tone for the importance to follow. Unlike so many historic sites in the NPS family, Minuteman concerns the recent past, and has nothing whatsoever to do with Founding Fathers, Native Americans, or Civil War battles. All are part of the American story, of course, but the NPS rarely considers anything not touched by a bit of must, if only because so much from the 20th century forward fosters political bickering instead of the expected reverence. If everyone under consideration is safely dead and buried, few will raise a stink, especially when hauling around the kids for a family vacation. Minuteman doesn't really traffic in the controversial, though I imagine there are a few humorless nitwits who can't understand setting aside park service land - and tax dollars - to commemorate the nuclear arms race.

And yet, Minuteman Missile NHS remains one of the most important sites in America, helping flesh out a time when fear ruled the realm, and widespread death was a distinct possibility. Fortunately, none of the Minuteman missiles were ever fired at the Soviet Union, but they sat at the ready for decades, waiting for the presidential order. Officially established in 1999, Minuteman is the first site dedicated to the Cold War, representing less what actually occurred than what could have been. Unlike Shiloh, Gettysburg, or the USS Arizona Memorial, the history at this cold, sterile facility never took place. As such, it's a tale of, well, waiting around. Soldiers came and went, played it by the book, and stood trained for whatever came their way, but in the end, they never had to act. Not a shot was fired, nor was there even a close call. But there they were, day after day, locked tight behind reinforced steel; thirty feet down and, from all appearances, fighting off boredom. One can imagine the anticipation, glancing at equipment and codes they hoped they'd never have to use.

The second spot on the tour, Delta-01 launch control facility, is exactly as they left it back in 1993, a short two years after the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty significantly reduced Minuteman stockpiles. Why here, with over 450 Minuteman II sites nationwide? One, the missiles here were "most typical" of the original configuration; two, it "symbolized the dedication and preparedness of USAF personnel stationed across the upper Great Plains"; and three (and most appreciated), it was located near a major interstate, allowing easy public access. The South Dakota landscape, though beautiful, is appropriately bleak and unforgiving, and it seems fitting that weaponry of this sort should be within earshot of the Badlands.

The tour at Delta-01 takes about 45 minutes, and is conducted by former Air Force personnel who knew the job intimately. As such, it's an authoritative visit, led by those who lived the life and, appropriately, knew the stakes. Thankfully, our guide, though a wealth of knowledge and trivia, incorporated a sense of humor into his presentation, commenting on the ghastly carpet and over-the-top toaster in the kitchen area. Unlike many tour guides, he never seemed scripted, and his stories came from his genuine excitement for the project, not simply because he was being paid to perform a service. Because the elevator down to the "bunker" is a tight fit, only six people per tour are allowed, and fortunately, we came with adults, not any of the children we saw earlier that morning. Above ground, the facility is standard issue dullness; functional to the point where every ounce of life is stripped from the walls, floors, and furniture. Visitors see where the soldiers ate, slept, read, and killed away the hours, and one can imagine that little excitement crept into this little island on the plains.

Needless to say, it is "down below" where things come alive, and despite one's best intentions, one can't help but be distracted by the now antiquated equipment on display. Would the order to wipe out half of humanity really have come over a rotary phone? Apparently so. If such a call had come, the guide explained how everything would have proceeded, including the crucial fact that both keys - far enough apart to require two separate sets of hands - had to be turned simultaneously. It's a tight, almost airless room, and it seems impossible now that the world could have ended in this very spot.

After walking the halls where so much was held in the balance, visitors are asked to drive down the road a bit to see the Delta-09 missile silo. Though the missile on display is now harmless, it's an impressive sight to behold. A ranger is stationed at the silo to answer questions, and while ours was still pretty green (two weeks on the job), he did his best to describe the workings of the weapon. We learned, for example, that had the missile been fired, the normally slow blast door would have been blown into the surrounding plains with crushing force. The nearby antenna was also programmed to track any and all movement within the fence, which, over the years, included grasshoppers, antelope, and the occasional dumb kid throwing rocks. Unlike the Titan missile silo in Arizona - where the weapon was contained on site with the soldiers themselves - Minuteman's control facility was connected to numerous missiles, necessitating some distance.

In all, and because one can't simply "stop by" in a casual manner, Minuteman Missile NHS is a rare treat, allowing one to feel privileged for getting the opportunity. The history is very much alive here and, unless you're very young and likely not interested in such places anyway, connected to memories we all share. It's a wonderful inclusion for the NPS, and hopefully a sign of things to come. History is, after all, more than famous houses and fields of green once soaked in blood. Sometimes it can be about a big, collective sigh; where for once, most rarely, human beings demonstrated heroic restraint and avoided conflict.

FINAL RATING

9/10