Hurry Up and Wait: Rare Visit to Nuclear Missile Base

Photos courtesy of Jim Clash

Minot, North Dakota (population 50,000) is home to the U.S. Air Force 91st Missile Wing. Buried deep in the ground there are 150 nuclear-tipped missiles, which, if launched, could destroy a good chunk of the world’s population.

I traveled to Minot awhile back to visit an underground bunker there, in which two young men sit ready to turn keys to launch those missiles, and the silos where the underground missiles are housed. Both complexes are located on public roads, but you would never know it unless you had been briefed beforehand.

After an hour’s drive in a nondescript van from Minot base proper across mostly farmland, we arrived at the Juliett-01 complex. Above ground there are two tan buildings. Seventy feet under those buildings is the isolated bunker where the missileers are on 24-hour alert in the event the U.S. needs to use its nuclear weapons.

At the fortified gate out front, we were immediately met by armed guards. Once our background checks were complete, we were escorted into one of the tan buildings. Surprisingly, there was a kitchen, complete with a chef who provides the missileers and security personnel with sustenance during their shifts. The food is cash only: for $2.95, I had a cola, burger, and tater tots. There is also a bathroom, a tiny gym, and a pool table.

I was prohibited from bringing any electronic devices into the bunker; my tape recorder, watch, and camera were confiscated. Reporting would be done the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper, and photos would be taken by an Air Force public affairs officer.

To get down to the bunker, four of us piled into a small freight elevator. Guards with machine guns called off as we entered, “One in, two in, three in, four in.” Descending was spooky. We were told that the elevator, rickety and installed in the early 60s, sometimes gets stuck. If that happened, we were to wait patiently. If it couldn’t be fixed, and that happens sometimes, an escape ladder would be used to return to the surface.

Upon reaching the bottom of the shaft, we were met by two massive steel blast doors—the outside one 11 tons and the inside one 8 tons—which require nine vigorous turns of a wheel-like handle to open. The outside door is opened by us, the inside one by the missileers.

The bunker itself is fairly tight quarters, with a green curtain walling off a small sleeping space. If a serious message comes across the console screens while one missileer is asleep, he is awakened immediately by the other to do his duty.

And what is that duty? Follow a series of verification codes on the analog screens, then unlock two simple padlocks on a rusted box that holds two launch keys. Each missileer has his own separate key to prevent one of them from rogue-launching.

I sat down with the missileers. The twenty-something, when asked what he would do if he received a direct order from the President to launch, replied, “I would have to follow the orders of our commander-in-chief. We are always ready and prepared, no matter what the situation. There are no politics down here. We don’t second guess.”'

After a half-hour in the stuffy bunker watching live screens, posing for photos, and asking more questions, it was back into the elevator and up to the surface for more paperwork. Once that was completed, we were off via the same van to visit the silos themselves, which are connected to the missileers’ bunker by a few miles of electric cable.

Approaching the Juliett-05 silo, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. While we couldn’t get into the underground silo itself, I was no more than 100 yards from a nuclear fusion device that, after traveling 15,000 mph into and out of space, could destroy a major city in Russia, China, or North Korea, if not several. The device makes the fission bombs dropped over Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of WWII seem like firecrackers.

After our visit, it was immediately back to Minot proper to scan the photos taken in the bunker for classified information. Several were discarded, including one where the console screen was reflected in my eyeglasses.

I left Minot that day with mixed feelings. I understand, of course, we need these monsters for deterrence, and I respect the servicemen who bear the responsibility of guarding and potentially launching them. But, like everyone, I worry about ever having to use them.

Hopefully we never will, making the missileers hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait—into eternity. At Minot, hurry up and wait is a good thing.

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Jim Clash immerses himself in extreme adventures for Forbes magazine. He graduated from Laurel High School in 1973. His latest book, Amplified: Interviews with Icons of Rock ‘n’ Roll, is an Amazon best-seller.