No Ruptured Skull Today

Captain Bill Collier

Concord Naval Weapons Depot, Concord, CA

As a young man, I attended U S Navy Flight School and became a helicopter for the United States Marine Corps. After Vietnam, I left active duty and decided to experiment with civilian helicopter lying. In 1974 I worked out of Stockton Airport, California for a small operator named CALICOPTERS. The company won a contract to spread synthetic fertilizer on the grounds of the Concord Naval Weapons Depot about 40 miles to the west. The Navy stored nuclear weapons were stored in underground bunkers on this base, but the surface ground was leased to local cattlemen to graze their herds. This keep the grass down and help prevent grass ires. I departed Stockton airport in my Alouette III helicopter at irst light. My support crew had departed an hour earlier, a small parade of vehicles, including a fuel truck, a larger tank truck full of ammonium nitrate synthetic fertilizer and a conveyor belt device on a trailer used to deliver the fertilizer from the bottom of the larger truck to my spreader buckets. We had briefed to meet at the guard shack at the entry to the base. I lew to the designated rendezvous point but my crew was nowhere to be seen, and I saw nothing resembling a guard shack. I thought I must have misunderstood, so I began a search for them. I followed the road between the small hills onto the base, and started searching. I lew low-level around the base for several minutes. After about ive minutes, I saw a Military Police vehicle following behind me, lights lashing but thought little of it. I did a U-turn and lew to the other end of the base. I the MP vehicle shadowed me, lights still lashing. Finally I saw what I thought to be the guard shack. It was about twenty by thirty feet, bristling with antennas, and several oicial looking vehicles parked beside it. This must be the guard shack, I’ll land here and ask the MPs if they have seen my crew. As I shut the helicopter down, the Military Police truck rattled to a halt in the gravel about 50 feet in front of me. When I walked towards the guard shack, a Marine corporal with a rile in his hands approached me briskly from the MP truck and ordered smartly, “Down in the dirt on your face, now!” I

tried to explain why I was there and that I was looking for my crew, but I could tell from his demeanor that he was quite serious. If I didn’t get down he was going to put me down, hard. I felt that he was aching to give me a vertical butt stroke with his rile. I saw him shift his body weight, getting ready to deliver a blow, but he checked himself and instead gave me a second irm command, “Down, now! Face down in the dirt!” I lopped down onto the cold, muddy soil. Prone on the cold, sticky soil, I slowly reached back and slid my wallet out of my left rear jeans pocket, and handed up my pink reserve ID showing that I was a Captain of Marines. This will get me a little respect. None! The corporal didn’t care; he was focused on protecting his nuclear weapons from my heinous threat. I stayed put, getting muddier, wetter and colder. After about ive minutes a U. S. Navy Lieutenant Commander appeared. I was allowed to get up of the ground and speak with the corporal’s superior oicer. I learned that my crew had had a mechanical problem with one of the trucks and never made it to the base...of course they were diicult for me to ind because they weren’t there. Worse yet, I learned that no one had ever bothered to inform base security troops that we were scheduled to do the job. I had put the whole base on high alert with my lying low and slow around the base. After things got all settled out, we distributed tons of fertilizer to the grasslands atop the bomb storage bunkers. Grass ires were prevented, so the Navy was happy. The cattle got fat, so the farmer made money, and I wrote a nice letter to the commander of the base, proudly commending the Marine corporal for his no-monkey-business professionalism. I hope he got promoted... and I am eternally grateful that he didn’t rupture my skull with his rile butt.