A Highlight of an Air Force Career

I can neither confirm nor deny that this incident happened.

A nolone zone may contain a cryptographic component, weapon system hardware under test, a nuclear weapon or active nuclear weapon controls. In the United States Air Force (USAF) policy concerning critical weapons, a nolone zone is an area in which the presence of a single individual is prohibited.

AFI91-104 23 APRIL 2013
Read the Regulation here.

3.4.2. Take immediate, positive steps to prevent or stop an incorrect procedure or unauthorized act.

In the United States Air Force there is a Nuclear Authentication NCO. They are in charge of the permission to launch a nuclear strike. Pilots are cycled in and out for training. the NCO position is permanent for continuity.

WAR STORY

On Thursday, we* were standing Nuclear Alert as a training exercise. Even though it was training, we were uploaded with the real weapons and were the ninth largest nuclear power in the world.

* pronouns are used for story telling and do not indicate any real person, living or dead.

I got a radio call from one of my security guards saying he had a problem. On arriving, I found a LtCol Pilot who come out to see “his” aircraft and “his” weapon. I informed him that it was “my” aircraft and “my” weapon. I offered him a ride back to ops and gave him 20 minutes to find his “two-man”.

Twenty minutes later, the guard called me again. The Colonel was back. I was not polite this time. I told him he had 20 minutes to shag his ass back to ops and find his two-man. If I found his crew chief watching movies in the lounge, I would handcuff the two of them together. I jangled cuffs in his face. The pilot who was my two-man said, “He’ll do it, sir. I’ve seen him do it.” The Colonel stomps off.

I was enjoying my MRE lunch of a Ham Slice when I got a third call. Fuck. Now I’m pissed. The conversation with the Colonel was heated.

He accused me of doing sexual things to my Mother.

I accused him of doing sexual things with small farm animals and kitchen appliances.

I’d have enough. I took an immediate, positive step to prevent or stop an incorrect procedure or unauthorized act.

I drew my pistol. At this point the guard turned off his radio and went behind the crew chief shack for a smoke break. My Lt pissed his pants. In the de-brief he said he didn’t know if he was supposed to shoot me or help me shoot the Colonel.

As per regulations, he supposed to help me shoot the Colonel

.I gave him to the count of three to leave the No Lone Zone. I counted down. At “one” I took the safety off and said,

“This is you last and final warning to un-ass the NO..LONE..ZONE…sir.

On Monday morning he was spot demoted to Major and sent back to the States. I was awarded a Meritorious Service Medal and acquired a reputation not to be fucked with.

Picnicking in the Rocky Mountains

Do you remember a time when you were a kid and you thought your Dad was awesomely God-like?

My moment was in 1966, I was about eight.  We were stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado.  On the weekends we’d go picnicking on Cheyenne Mountain.  Dad was alway looking for arrow heads and miner stuff.  Mom was taking pictures like mad.  Oma (Grandma) was making sure I didn’t kill myself.  I spent most of the time getting as dirty as possible. 

Lion Dog
Rhodesian_Ridgeback (Lion Dog)

We became friends with the local Park Ranger.  He let us get into the sort of shall we say “not open to the public” places.  Once we made an unannouced visit to his home.  A ranch style log cabin affair.  He wasn’t home but his dogs were and Mom made friends with them almost immeadiatly.  When he did get home he was amazed to find us waiting in his living room.  He was really amazed to find us still alive.  His dogs were a pair of what he called “Lion Dogs”.

One weekend we were at one of those out of way places when Dad spotted an old mine sunk into the side of a hill.  It looked like it had been there for a hundred years so visions of “miner stuff” danced in his head.  Flashlights at the ready, Dad, Mom and I proceeded on a mine adventure.

The shaft had about a 20 or 30 degree incline, so going was slow.  There was a remnant of the rail lines that the ore cars used.  After about 50 feet or so, Mom slipped and fell.  When she hit the ground she lost her flashlight.  To an eight year old it looked to me like the darkness just sucked her out.  She came to a stop with a resounding “THUD” and a not-so-cheerfull “SHIT”.  Dad and I ran to her.  We noted where the rail line ended abruptly and the floor dropped about six inches.  For Mom, it was like stepping of a stair step she didn’t know was there.  

When we got to her, Mom was on her ass, leaned up on a stainless steel door.

At this point I remember Dad saying, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”  I remember it well because he hardly ever used “fuck”, he was more of shit and god dammit man.

Mom had broken her foot in the fall  By the time we got out of the mine shaft there were two jeeps and about a half dozen Army MP’s waiting for us.  As a army brat, I knew my Dad out ranked these dudes so they obviously there to help us.  Especially as they gave us ride back to our car and Oma.  Somehow, my Dad used some superhuman way of contacting the M.P.’s to come help us.

Jever
Me and my Dad.

Years later, Dad told me that we had stumbled upon an emergency escape hatch for NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain Complex.  Since he was an E-9 he did out rank the M.P.s.  He had also attended a orientation tour of the Complex given to the Command Structure at Fort Carson.  That combination was good enough to get us off the hook.

NORAD
Not this one.