Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, near Philip, South Dakota
On the plains of South Dakota, just off Exit 127 on I-90, north of Badlands National Park, sits a building whose most flattering description would include the words “tan” and “bland”. The only thing vaguely interesting about it are the satellite dishes in the yard and the chain-link fence with “Restricted Area” in a barely-readable font. You might be surprised by its purpose, but probably not, because the only reason you’d even be on this empty road, avoiding the occasional pronghorn antelope, would be to visit the Delta-01 control facility for the 66th Strategic Missile Squadron, 44th Missile Wing. This is one of many places that had a very simple task: be prepared to end the world. You’d expect visitors to such a place would be met with a sense of fear, or perhaps awe, or maybe a little megalomania.
I found it hilarious.
Highly-trained personnel lived in this oversized, vinyl-sided, ranch house, trained to turn two keys, in tandem, in order to launch Minuteman II missiles, each with 6,300 mile range, and topped with a 1.2 megaton (at least) warhead. These death machines were part of a “countervalue” attack strategy: designed to eliminate 30% of the population, and 50% of the industry, of the U.S.S.R. The term we used was “mutually assured destruction”, a truly horrific concept.
Yet, still, I found it hilarious.
There are multiple reasons for this, including the possibility that I’m simply a sick son of a bitch. It could also be that the entire concept is ludicrous: two world powers spent billions of dollars convincing the other that we’d blow you to hell if you try to blow us to hell. Yeah, let’s do that, instead of trying to figure out how to get along, or simply letting each other do our own thing. Well, at least we’d all be in hell together, I suppose. Maybe then we’d get along, amongst the brimstone, sulfur, and endless HOA meetings.
There’s some psychology at work here. People can respond to unfathomable terror in at least two ways: cower in fear, or laugh at the inanity of it all. It’s not just a coping mechanism, but it also helps in problem solving. If one can laugh at something, it diminishes the magnitude, allowing one to redirect the energy eaten up by stress to the analytical part of the brain. Of course, as we’ve seen by the state of our political discourse, the analytical part of the brain is a rarely-used resource. There’s no doubt as to why we were never able to resolve our Cold War differences.
Our tour guide at Minuteman NHS leaned into the hilarity, pointing out the cathode-ray tube computer displays; analog rotary-dial telephones; the collection of 70’s boardgames to help airmen fight boredom; an armored vehicle — looking more like a torture device than a truck (a clear inspiration for Elon Musk) — for patrolling missile sites; and the rusty Weber grill and charred coffee can used to burn paper cypher keys, all considered “historical artifacts” by the National Park Service. I lived through the 70’s & 80’s, the idea that any of it comprises a “historical era” is hilarious by itself. The only things missing are the avocado green bathroom fixtures ….
All joking aside, it is frustrating that we lived through those years of nuclear testing, duck-and-cover drills, shoe-banging U.N. speeches, state-sponsored coups, and proxy wars, all for nothing. We still have madmen at the helms of the largest world powers, we’re still arguing with each other instead of working together, we’re still not stepping out from behind our own patriotic flag-waving and media-fueled rage to look and see that most of our differences are simply tropes used to manipulate public opinion.
Yet, regardless of any of that, we still have our ability to laugh at the inanity of it all, and redirect our energy to solving the problem. If only we would.
[AI was not used to research or write any part of this essay. Pictures are mine and thusly copyrighted].
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Links:
Minuteman Missile National Historic Site
America In Context 