The Missile Defense Agency (MDA) announced today it has successfully completed a flight test of the ground-based midcourse defense (GMD) development program, intercepting an intercontinental ballistic missile target. The test took place over the central Pacific Ocean in the Western Test Range. A modified Minuteman intercontinental ballistic missile target vehicle was launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base, Calif., at 10 p.m. EDT, and a prototype interceptor was launched 22 minutes later and 4,800 miles away from the Ronald Reagan Missile Site Kwajalein Atoll in the Republic of the Marshall Islands. The intercept took place approximately six minutes after the interceptor was launched, at an altitude in excess of 140 miles above the earth, and during the midcourse phase of the target warhead's flight. This was the fifth successful intercept--and the fourth consecutive--in seven flight tests since October 1999 for the GMD program.

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The Defense Department shot down a mock warhead over the Pacific Ocean late on Saturday in a successful test of a controversial anti-ballistic
missile defense.

Two out of the three previous tests had failed.

The $100 million test involved a Minuteman 2 intercontinental ballistic missile launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base on California and an interceptor fired from Kwajalein
Atoll in the Republic of the Marshall Islands, 4,800 miles away.

The Defense Department said the target was launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base in California at 10:40 p.m. EDT. Twenty-one minutes and 34 seconds later, a
ground-based interceptor lifted off from Kwajalein Atoll, it said.

The target was destroyed 140 miles above the central Pacific, outside the earth's atmosphere, by the 120-pound ``kill vehicle.'' 

WASHINGTON, March 18, 2002 -- A ballistic missile interceptor successfully destroyed a test target March 16 in what Missile Defense Agency officials hope is becoming an almost routine occurrence.

The Ground-based Midcourse Defense System's exoatmospheric kill vehicle vaporized a mock nuclear warhead on impact 140 miles over the Pacific. The hit-to-kill vehicle distinguished the mock warhead from decoys and other debris. The March 16 test was the third success in a row and fourth out of six tries. 

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The ABM Treaty of 1972 was between the USA and the Soviet Union.

Where on the map is the Soviet Union?  --Please find it...

How can we be bound by a treaty with a nonexistent country? 

We cannot!

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Critics [1] claim that if the US goes ahead with NMD it "...could spark a new arms race."

With what will the Russians finance this arms race? 
 

[1] Critics, a term used by those opposed to whatever the question at hand; meaning some unseen band of omnipotent "experts" who always remain nameless--and usually are without form...
 

On a return trip to the island, after vacation, I had just sat down in the connecting bus to our charter flight from Oakland to Honolulu, when a middle-aged man wearing a flowered shirt sat down beside me. 

On the trip to the airport we chatted amiably, and the conversation got around to the Army's Nike-Zeus anti-missile system. Having just finished a tour with the U.S. Air Force (SAC) I felt compelled to contrast the Army's Nike-Zeus with the Air Force's anti-missile approach. I raved on; about how the Air Force's boost-phase intercept was superior to the Army's terminal-phase interception. 

He listened very patiently, never disagreeing. When the bus reached its destination, we parted company. 

About a week after having returned to the island, my boss, myself and several coworkers were entering the Officer's Club for lunch, when I was greeted by the outstretched hand of a U.S. Army, Four Star General with his entourage of assorted bird colonels and majors in tow. 

I did a double-take. It was the guy on the bus!

With his entourage patiently waiting, we chatted like long lost friends for a few minutes; never once alluding to our previous conversation--he was gracious. 

After taking our leave of one another, my boss, who was suitably impressed, turned to me and asked how was it that I knew the head of the U.S. Army Missile Command. 

As the bus would near the Technical Area, it was filled to capacity with a bunch of "zombies," nobody was talking to anybody. We were all setting there as if we had had a really bad night, the night before--as some had. 

On the bus ride, we were required to stop at the "guard shack" where the civilian security guard would board the bus and check everyone's I.D. badge. 

There was this particular guard, who when he came on board--taking his time, would speak to everybody--individually; making small talk and cracking jokes--just a happy guy. 

When he would leave the bus, he would make some parting remark that seemed to always be original, and very funny--breaking everyone up. 

As the bus started to move out, everybody--I mean everybody would be in animated conversion with someone else. It was as if a bunch of dummies had just had their switches thrown! It was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. 

His enthusiasm was "infectious." 

The sad ending to this story, was that after about six or eight months on the island, he was fired. The story was that he had been keeping Beer in his water cooler; which just happen to be located in an unairconditioned wooden shack in the hot equatorial sun (just 8 degrees above of the Equator). 

He was born in New York City, and grew up on the island of Mallorca, Spain.

Dick came to the Nike Zeus Project from the Mercury Project at Cape Canaveral. There he picked up the nickname "Space," while on Kwaj we lengthened it to "Space Ace."

Dick once told me that he only went to the tenth grade, yet he was a self educated working engineer and the acting launch director for the Nike Zeus ABM system.

In the evening if you stopped by his room, there he would be, sitting in bed, a martin in one hand and a dime novel in the other. He loved to read dime novels, he would finish one, toss it in a pile (over two feet high) and go on to the next one…

Dick was also a Ham radio operator. He used a Heathkit portable SSB rig ~35Watts. Several of us on the island would spend hours talking on 20 meters, after a while his rig would drift up the band, we had to tell him to move back down the band when he drifted too far. 

He owned an Accutron watch, it was so accurate that the launch director would call Dick for a "time hack."

The Zeus launch director found the pressure of the job so great, he gave the task to Dick, who did a flawless job.

1928 - 1996

I was 25 and single; worked for Bell Labs/Western Electric and had a GS rating equivalent to Major.  I lived in the BOQ and took meals in the Navy officers mess (not a pretty sight--we often snuck in the CPO mess).  If I had been married and accompanied by my family we would have lived in dependent's quarters.

I mention this because I was privy to sections of the social strata that some were not. The things that went on there at that time were pretty WILD--even by today's standards. If you were married and had your family with you, you could join one of the several "key clubs" there. Also, there was "organized" illegal gambling, drugs, smuggling, and other ways of getting your ass in a sling. There were several suspicious deaths (murders--gambling, etc.).

I knew several engineers single and married that were asked to leave before their tours were finished, due to their heavy dependency on alcohol--which was cheaper than Coke Cola!

In 18 months, there were three different island doctors--all of which left under a cloud...  --Three great tales to tell there (later editions).

The dependent kids were, for the most part, "unsupervised," they kept the island security pretty busy.
 During my tour, the population grew to more than 3500 people.

The justice on the Island was "Navy Justice," e.g., if someone walked up behind me and hit me in the head with a two by four, the Navy's solution was to hold no hearing, but declare both parties at fault and ship both off the island.

A positive side was the money: one could amass a good sized nest-egg fast!

Even though, after eighteen months, I couldn't wait to get the "Hell Off," I have fond memories: it was truly a life altering experience! "
 

I had the habit of demanding that the pilot take me up to check the quality of the repairs. One day after a shot, with the doors off of the pontoon Beaver, a co-worker and myself took just such a ride. I think the pilot had had enough of my crap so as we taxied out and started our takeoff roll he opened the throttle, and pushed the aileron wheel over into my lap and held it there with his knee, and shouted: "here you fly the plane."
I had never flown a plane in my life; the only thing close was that I had been a Link Trainer instructor in the USAF--which I always mentioned two or three times around the pilot.

When I protested that I couldn't fly, he shouted back, "yea you can, you use to 'fly' in the Air Force, you told me so!"

My buddy who was in the "jump seat" in the rear, couldn't hear what was being said for all the noise, and assumed that I could indeed fly, so he set back to enjoy the ride.

Meanwhile, about halfway down the runway we were rolling at about 85 knots, I realized he was serious; he shouted, "take off, take off!" As we started to run out of runway, I looked at the flight instruments and praying, I pulled back on the aileron wheel and started climbing out at about ~300 fpm, I flew it as if I were flying my old Link Trainer (C-47) in IFR conditions--never once looking out the front windshields.

At about a 100 or so feet I did look out the wind shields and realized we had a crosswind (~25 kts) that was pushing us toward the tower where all I could see was what looked like a raised fist as I rolled it away from the tower.

We continued to climb to altitude ~5,000 feet where we got a radio call that there was an overdue boat out there somewhere and would we keep an eye out for it. So we flew around for what seemed like an eternity. All this time I was waiting and watching for the pilot to loosen his grip on the aileron wheel stalk so I could push it back into his lap--where it belonged--and scotch it with my knee; I sure as Hell didn't want to try and land that thing--especially with a cross wind!

Finally he directed me to the approach end of the island--right over the shark pit--to line up for final approach; at this point I was begging for him to take the wheel, but he kept saying "you can do it!" As we entered the approach pattern he backed off on the throttle and as we started to descend he took the wheel and landed the plane--I was so grateful I could have hugged his neck.

Later back at the JTO building I told my buddy what had actually happened--that I could not fly and had never flown until that day, when he finally understood what I was saying and finally believed me, he turned white and ran into the latrine where proceeded to loose his "lunch." Meanwhile I went back to the BOQ and took a shower and changed underwear.