The Control Center was located inside a space dug into the side of a small mountain and consisted of several office rooms and one huge control room where I worked. Along one side of the room was an elevated dais where I sat flanked by my assistants, both officers and airmen. Some operated various communications equipment and others monitored the correct postings of messages, fighter status, weather, etc. Others were responsible for notifying various agencies in case of an actual alert---A Red Alert. Across the dais from me was a large Plexiglas plotting board extending from the first floor to the ceiling of the second floor upon which the state of Alaska was outlined. Behind the plotting board, airmen on platforms at various levels plotted the position and movement of aircraft reported to them from our radar sites. To the left and right of the plotting board was the current status of all fighter aircraft available to me for scrambling purposes and the weather for the entire key points in Alaska. The boss of the control center was a Major who I will call Major "Smith" (not his real name) and nobody liked him at the center. He was inflated with his own importance, was always writing numerous and sometimes senseless orders and regulations and nitpicking and criticizing everyone. He wanted all of his subordinates to be afraid of him but he knew that I wasn't and that sort of irritated him. One time he thought he had me when I failed to scramble a fighter one snowy winter night against a low, slow-moving unknown track near Anchorage. He angrily demanded a full and detailed written report from me explaining my failure to scramble so he could send it to headquarters for disciplinary action against me. I wrote a good one. Among other things I justified my reasons for not scrambling a high speed, two-man-crew jet aircraft based on safety and common sense. It was a snowy night, instrument flying conditions, the track was moving just a little over 100 miles per hour and was only about 1500 feet above the ground in a mountainous area. If I had scrambled Beggar One (the fighter aircraft) he would have been placed in an extremely hazardous position with practically no possibility of success. A bush pilot flying a small type aircraft could only have made the track. Apparently the higher ups agreed with me as I never heard any more from anyone about the incident But I showed the major up for what he was one night and he never gave me any more trouble. It was one Saturday night while I was on duty at the center and we received a Teletype message from one of our site officers at Nome, Alaska, which read, "RED DOG RED". Now this was really serious. "RED DOG" meant that a practice invasion exercise was in progress. "RED DOG RED" meant that the invasion was for real. I requested an immediate confirmation and it was confirmed along with another code word that meant "TROOPS IN THE VICINITY, UNKNOWN STRENGTH". So I pulled the pin. I called the whole center to attention and announced that I was declaring a "RED ALERT" which meant that this was for real and for notification procedures to be executed immediately. Numerous agencies and personnel were called and placed on alert Fairbanks, the Army, all fighter squadrons, the Commanding General, Canada, North American Air Defense Command (NORAD) at Colorado Springs, Colorado and several others. This was the first time in the history of the Alaskan Air Defense Command that a RED ALERT was declared and, considering the seriousness of the Cold War and our proximity to Russia, it must have made a tremendous impact. Immediately, all hell broke loose. I was told later that when the alert was announced at the Officers Club party, which was in full swing, for all fighter pilots to report immediately to their squadrons that mass hysteria reigned. Wives were crying and grabbing wrong babies and the whole base suddenly became alive as the base siren was sounding. I can only imagine what occurred elsewhere---especially stateside. But as far as I was concerned, I was only doing a job that I was trained for. One of the first to arrive at the control center was Major Smith. He went directly to his office and didn't come near me on the dais to find out what was happening. Someone told me that he was in his office so I left the dais and went to see him. "Major", I said. "Regulations state that during a Red Alert I am in charge until you arrive and then you will take over. Would you like to take my place at the dais with the General when he arrives?" The Major was extremely nervous and upset and tried to appear very busy shuffling papers and writing. But he knew that I knew that he would really make an ass of himself on the dais with the General since the major knew practically nothing about the intricacies of operating a dais. Without looking up, the Major grumbled, "No. You go ahead. You're doing just fine. I'm busy here right now" as he waved me away. The Commanding General Of the Alaskan Air Defense Command arrived with other big wigs and took his position besides me on the dais. "What the hell's going on here, Captain?" he asked. I quickly briefed him and showed him the messages that we received from Nome. "Who sent them?" he said. I told him the name of the officer in Nome who was responsible for sending them. "I wanna talk to him," he demanded. I explained to the General that our communication phone system was extremely poor and it would be almost impossible to talk to the officer but that I would do my best. "Fine. Give it a try", he replied. Miraculously, by using several different relays, I was able to contact the officer in Nome and handed the phone to the General. I could only occasionally hear his side of the conversation, as I was extremely busy with other functions. But I do recall some of his statements such as, "Are you sure? "How the hell do you know? "What makes you think you saw troops? "I want you to report to me first thing in the morning. Understand?" When he finished talking, the General handed me the phone and simply said, "Call the whole thing off', and left the control center. To this day I don't know what happened in Nome that night and why the officer there sent the messages or what disciplinary action the General took against him. My guess is that the Nome officer was either drunk or perhaps went off his rocker at his remote location. Or perhaps it was a secret test conducted by someone in Washington, D.C., like the War Department, to evaluate the effectiveness of our Alaskan Air Defense System. In any case, the whole episode was suddenly over and neither the Alaskan Air Defense Command nor Major Smith made any further mention of it to me---good or bad. Higher-ups apparently thought I did OK and of course Major Smith couldn't do or say anything against me. After all, he violated an Air Defense Command Regulation the night of the Red Alert by failing to take his proper place on the dais and for not doing his job. Like I said, he knew it and he knew that I knew it and he didn't give me any more hard times. At least he could have told me that I did a good job. |