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Titans of the Cold War

Visitors to a missile museum in Arizona get a closeup look at the weapon that could have launched World War III and nuclear annihilation.

GREEN VALLEY, Ariz. - "Okay, Commander," says Chuck Penson to a girl, roughly age 10 with a mouth full of braces. She has one hand on the control panel. "Turn the key," Penson orders.

He turns his head, his long ponytail flying. "You, Deputy Commander," he addresses a boy about 7, "turn the other key."

As the keys are turned, tour guide Penson tells those of us watching, "You've heard the expression, "Finger on the button.' Nobody had a finger on any button - it was these two keys which would launch the big one."

The "big one" is a Titan II missile, and we are standing inside an original Titan missile silo, 35 feet under the desert south of Tucson.

Officially, it is Site 571-7, activated July 15, 1963, and deactivated Nov. 11, 1982. Today it is a national historic landmark open to the public as the Titan Missile Museum.

Five seconds after the two commanders have turned their keys, a green light with the message "Launch Enable" goes on.

In a matter-of-fact tone, Penson says, "Welcome to World War III."

This is, the museum staff reports, the only missile complex in the world that is routinely accessible to the public.

Upon hearing in the early 1980s that all the Titan II missile sites were to be destroyed, preservation-minded people at nearby Davis-Monthan Air Force Base suggested that one silo be preserved as a museum, a window on how close the world could have gotten to nuclear annihilation. Two other Titan II fields, outside Little Rock Air Force Base in Arkansas and McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kan., were destroyed as originally planned.

To show the world that this complex is indeed just a museum and not a trick to keep an active missile, the silo's top, 760-ton closure door is left halfway open. Passing satellites can verify that the silo is empty by peering into it through a glass dome over the opened door.

Upon deactivation of the Titan bases, the missile that had occupied this launch tube had first been lifted out and placed on the ground, where it was left for 30 days. A hole was cut in the re-entry vehicle to ensure that it could not be armed.

The museum was dedicated May 8, 1986. Most guides are volunteers, many retired military personnel. Penson is a veteran not of the military but of technology education in the world of museums. He spent 17 years at the Science Museum of Minnesota.

He tells the girl now playing the role of commander in the control room that there was enough air in the room to last 30 days after a presumed nuclear attack. He then asks her if after 30 days she hears no voices, what could that mean?

"That communication has been cut off?"

Nope, Penson answers: Thirty days with no voices would have been pretty certain evidence that no one else was alive. The options then for the silo's occupants: "You can exit through the emergency escape hatch and die of radiation, or stay here and die of suffocation when the air runs out."

The rationale behind the Titans was "peace through deterrence." The Titan II missile was a retaliatory weapon, to be fired only if the former Soviet Union had struck first. The threat of mutually assured destruction was enough to keep both sides from starting a war that nobody could win.

To make sure we didn't start "the big one" by accident, every procedure within these silos had backup upon backup upon backup. If one of the missiles was fired from the silo, there was no recalling it.

There is no "reverse" button on the control panels. The logic was that if we could have communicated with the missile to change its trajectory, perhaps the enemy could have figured out how to communicate with it. American leaders didn't want that.

Visitors to the missile museum first see a film, then start the hourlong tour with 15 minutes above ground, where visitors stand by an electronic security system that warned the combat crew of the entrance of even a wayward jackrabbit.

Just about everything inside the silo is left as it was when it was active, from the "Watch for rattlesnakes" signs by the staircase at the silo entrance to the cage where those reporting for duty used a password, usually written on a card, to gain entry. The card was immediately burned in a red Folgers coffee can.

As soon as visitors spot the Folgers can, jokes are made about it being a $900 Pentagon project.

As the tour winds through the silo, Penson points out that everything, from control panels to light fixtures, is on springs. The theory was that if a Soviet missile had struck nearby, everything in the silo would jiggle about but not crash from the shock waves.

The four-person crews who were stationed in the silo were given routine psychiatric exams; those who had recently suffered any emotionally jarring event, such as a divorce or death of a loved one, were removed from duty.

To further guard against any unordered action, two keys were needed to launch the Titan. They had to be turned within two seconds of each other and held for five seconds. The keyholes are far enough apart that even someone with the wingspan of Shaquille O'Neal couldn't reach both keys at one time.

And the actual missile? It's here, but the nuclear warheads are gone.

Visitors get two views of the missile - from the outside, looking down on it through a glass panel, and from 35 feet below ground, where they are about level with the base of the nose cone. It is difficult to believe that this bulbous thing could destroy a city.

Each tour guide presents his or her narrative differently. Penson says, "I like to cover a little more about the mission and less about technology, but there is no way here you cannot talk about technology."

So visitors will hear about thrust, fuel, water cooling and more technical stuff.

It was not the SALT II treaty but obsolescence that signaled the end for the Titans. The last Titan II silo was decommissioned in 1987, a year after this museum opened. The Titans were being replaced by more economical and advanced Minuteman and MX Peacekeeper intercontinental ballistic missiles.

- Michael Schuman is a freelance writer living in Keene, N.H.

GETTING THERE: The Titan Missile Museum is in Green Valley, Ariz., about 25 miles south of downtown Tucson, just off Interstate 19, Exit 69.

It is open 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily (except Thanksgiving and Christmas) from November through April, and 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Wednesday through Sunday from May through October. Admission is $8.50 for adults, $7.50 for ages 62 and older and for members of the military, and $5 for ages 7 to 12. The guided tour involves climbing about 50 steps.

FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact the Titan Missile Museum, P.O. Box 150, Green Valley, AZ 85622; call 520 625-7736. The Web site is www.pimaair.org

For general information on the region, including accommodations and discount packages, contact the Metropolitan Tucson Convention & Visitors Bureau, 100 S Church Ave., Tucson, AZ 85701. Call toll-free 1-800-638-8350; www.visittucson.org

The public soon can also visit another Cold War-era site. Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, a part of the National Park Service, preserves a Minuteman II missile silo and its launch control facility near Philip, S.D.

Tours are conducted twice daily on weekdays, ending Sept. 6 (Labor Day). Tours are approximately two hours long and are limited to six people.

To make a reservation, call 605 433-5552 weekdays. The Web site is www.nps.gov/mimi