Inspecting the End of the World

I.

22 Apr 1996, the Day I saw Death for the First Time: The bouncing never stopped as the bus hurled along the dirt road, dotted with rain-soaked potholes. At least that’s what I thought since the bus windows had curtains pulled across them so we couldn’t see outside. But since the floor of the bus had holes, I saw very wet mud splatter up every few seconds, in symphony with a jolt. I looked around at my colleagues and saw some of the same nausea I felt. Although I could handle bouncy rides, and even liked roller coasters every now and then, this experience was different, and nausea flooded over me almost as soon as we left the base 30 minutes ago.

Please make this stop! Please Lord! I will do anything, I promise. I will go to church more often, I will say my prayers more often, I will be nicer, whatever it takes! Just make the bouncing stop!!

Adding to the unrhythmic bouncing, the smell of cigarettes made my condition worse. I didn’t smoke, nor been around too many people that smoked recently, so to be sitting in a bus full of soldiers who smoked every second destroyed my nasal passages and my stomach.

I hate this smell. My mother used to smoke and I hated the smell and the way they stank and the cloud hung in the air around our house all the time. Plus, the cheap Russian cigarettes smell worse than any American brand, even the knockoff ones. 

I tried looking out the front of the bus, but the rotating light from the security vehicle in front of us didn’t help.

I rub my eyes, hoping for some relief, but nothing. Thankfully I notice some moisture on the bus window and reach through the curtain to wipe my hand on the cool droplets. Wiping my cold wet hand across my face helps thankfully, enough so I don’t think I am going to die from nausea, for now.

With the pending doom of throwing up settled down, I can focus on the people around me. My seatmate is another American, a friend and coworker, and he too looks a little green. The Team Chief cautioned us not to talk too much on the bus so we just exchange an unsteady glance and a slight nod of understanding.

Each member of the team is sitting next to another American but is spread out among the seats with our Russian counterparts throughout the bus. We know we are not the first American team to be here, but I assume most of the young soldiers have never seen an American before except on TV. We are the first inspection team though since the other American team just baselined the Treaty required launch vehicles. We are outsiders, foreigners, maybe even the enemy. 

Our Russian counterparts seem unmoved by the jostling bus, in fact, one or two are actually sleeping. I then catch some discussions from up front and try to listen. My Team Chief is talking with the Russian Team Chief, through interpreters. I catch a question about arrival time at the site, and the Russian Team Chief just shrugs. Apparently, the Russian Team Chief doesn’t care we are close to breaking the Treaty required timelines for site arrival. My Team Chief asks again, stating the proper Article of the Treaty and restating the timeline. This time the Russian Team Chief leans to his right and talks to the Site Senior Officer, who looks at his watch before replying. The Russian Team Chief turns back and gives an answer, which the interpreter restates in English (15 minutes). 

15 more minutes of this bouncing; I think I can last; I think I’ll survive.

II.

Wow, I didn’t think the vehicle would be that big…wait, I am saying this in my head, right? Not out loud?

I look around, just to make sure no one is looking at me strangely for saying what I think I thought, but might have said out loud. Well, more strangely than ‘normal’ since our Russian counterparts have been staring at us strangely since we stepped off the plane. Good, no one is staring at me, so back to the job at hand.

In front of me stands a Russian RS-12M Topol mobile intercontinental ballistic missile launcher. My team follows our Team Chief as we walk around the vehicle, confirming it is the right type of vehicle and the right vehicle we designated for inspection. I remember the pictures the Russians provided as part of the Treaty agreement, so I know what an RS-12M should look like, but right now that is irrelevant. Only three things are rushing through my head right now.

These tires, seven on each side, are almost as big as I am! Second, inside that tube on top of the vehicle, sits a 3-stage intercontinental ballistic missile designed to reach anywhere in my beloved homeland. And, third, my feet are wet and my raincoat is dripping onto my pants…shit. I smell like smoke and now I’m wet. This sucks! At least I don’t have vomit on my shoes.

Once confirmed as the right launcher, back on the bus and back to the support base we go. At least this time we will go slower and hopefully less bouncy.

III.

Back at the support base, we break into two teams; one to watch the Russians prepare the missile for inspection, and the other to look at support buildings. I’m stuck inspecting support buildings, so out in the rain again.

It could be worse…this could be January and all this rain could be snow. One of the baseline teams spent 2 days stuck in Moscow because of the weather.

All too quickly the building inspection is complete.

That went fast and painless. The support buildings and everything are in order and the missile will be ready for inspection. Almost Game Face time. Plus, I can get out of the rain.

IV.

I stand just behind my Team Chief and his interpreter, listening to the discussion (first in English and then repeated in Russian, then done in the opposite) discuss the Treaty procedures aligned with Annex III of the protocol to ensure we are getting our full Treaty Rights, and to make sure the Russians are not giving too much. All of my training is coming back to me as I listen to this diplomatic wargaming going on in front of me. My Team Chief is firm in his commitment and the Russians are firm in theirs.

Looking around (from behind the missile launcher) I’m struck by something I missed when we first saw the launcher (since my hair is not dripping and I can look at it better.) It reminds me of a firetruck, mixed with a cement truck that mated with a fuel truck. But then painted in some weird military colors, not the bright red you see on firetrucks.

Not sure this would be useful in fighting a fire. Oh, they finished talking, here we go…up to the front of the missile and time to inspect the warhead. The Team Chief reminded us we get 15 minutes to view the reentry vehicle, and it will be covered, but that is in accordance with the Treaty…good…it’s go time!

We make it up front and the lights are brighter than the dreary light outside and I can see the front section much more clearly. I hear the Russians say Your 15 minutes start Now.

My jaw drops. I sort of forgot really why we are here and what is going on since this is all new to me. I am looking at the front section of an intercontinental ballistic missile and a covered perturbance from that front section! My vomit reflex almost lurches me forward, but I collect myself and do what I must.

Behind that cover, death, millions of lives, over in an instant. The compression of atoms, followed by fission releasing massive amounts of energy needed to ignite the fusion, resulting in massive destruction and death. That is what is behind the cover, death, and destruction. We are here to help stave off that death and destruction. We are here to build trust and confidence. We are here to prevent the launching of this missile, and hundreds like it, from leading to total world destruction. Without this trust and confidence, there is only death. There are no other words for it. I am staring at the death of the human race. But, because I am here because we are working together, maybe peace will prevail. Peace through strength yes, but peace nonetheless, because death must not prevail.