Paradise Lost - Johnston Island site of chemical weapons disposal

Airman, Feb, 2001 by Elaine Tarello

Tropical paradise or chemical wasteland? Ten years of chemical weapons destruction comes to an end in the Pacific.

When Lt. Col. Lee Kindle found out he was heading to Johnston Air Force Base, Johnston Island, for a year-long remote assignment, he figured he'd fit right in. A self-proclaimed "small-town boy," he thought he'd easily settle into the minicity atmosphere of the tiny one-square-mile Pacific island.

But Johnston bore little resemblance to his small-town roots in the mid-West. Instead of northeast Oklahoma's rolling hills and roaming cattle, Kindle was greeted by concrete bunkers and a towering smoke-billowing factory.

It may appear to be a tropical island complete with sandy beaches and crystal blue waters, but Johnston Island is anything but a tropical paradise. While Kindle may have palm trees and flowering hibiscus in his front yard, in the back is a stockpile of chemical weapons, including enough deadly VX nerve agent to easily take out New York City.

"It's definitely a lot different from where I grew up," said Kindle, a Westville, Okla., native.

Johnston is a one-stop shop for chemical weapon incineration. Since 1990, the Johnston Atoll Chemical Agent Disposal System has destroyed more than 4 million pounds of nerve and mustard agents stored in more than 400,000 rockets, projectiles, bombs, mines and 1-ton containers.

Accidentally discovered in 1797 by an American sea captain, Johnston Atoll has been used by the Defense Department for everything from a World War II airfield and submarine refueling base to a high-altitude nuclear test launch site. Its isolation made it the perfect storage site for chemical weapons, so the military started dropping off unused World War II and Vietnam War-era munitions in the early 1970s. In 1985, after Congress mandated the disposal of U.S. chemical weapon stockpiles, the atoll assumed one of its most dangerous missions--the destruction of chemical weapons. Since that time, more than 6 percent of the United States' total chemical weapons stockpile has been disposed of.

As Johnston's deputy commander, Kindle had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders before he retired in December 2000. He was one of just 20 Air Force people stationed on the island responsible for its day-to-day operations, including oversight of the 1,180 soldiers, civilians and contractors who live and work there.

"Since the population is so small and primarily civilian, I act like a city council leader," Kindle said. "I listen to concerns and issues from all the representatives here and help everyone reach an amicable agreement."

One of these representatives is John Isaacs, the U.S. Army Chemical Activity, Pacific, command sergeant major, who, as the senior Army enlisted person on the island, bears the weighty responsibility of overseeing the more than 220 soldiers. Isaacs and his troops have the dangerous job of transporting the volatile agents from bunkers to the plant. Since some of the weapons date back to World War II, there's an ever-present danger of leakage.

"That's why it's safer to destroy the weapons here," Isaacs said. "If we try to transport these weapons to another site, we're running a huge risk of contamination."

Mask slinging

But the threat of contamination still exists for Isaacs and the other Johnston Island residents. So when he heads off to work each morning, he's wearing an M4OA1 gas mask slung around his hips. These gas masks prove very handy. Just a pinprick-sized droplet of Sarin, a colorless and odorless gas destroyed on Johnston Island, will kill a human. And that's just one of the dangerous agents in storage.

"The chemicals we're working with are as deadly as any known to man," he said. "But we enforce stringent safety measures."

These measures consist of everything from protective gear to constant atmospheric monitoring, which is particularly important for workers.

Once the soldiers drop off their "garbage," the disposal system workers take over, destroying the agents and their casings.

"It's a thorough process," Isaacs said. "They first punch and drain the weapons, then burn the liquid agent in a furnace at about 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit."

From there, the leftover metal parts are thrown into a 3,000-degree Fahrenheit furnace. "After that, nothing is left but a rusted hulk that's sold as scrap," he said.

Despite the hazards of the process, it's a testament to the workers and the safety precautions there's never been a major chemical incident on the island. This exemplary record is helpful in putting Johnston residents' minds at ease, particularly newcomers to the island, like Master Sgt. Pamela Farmer.

Farmer said she was a bit apprehensive when she first arrived. She had no sooner stepped off the plane from Offutt Air Force Base, Neb., than she found herself in a cramped room slinging on a gas mask.

Farmer is slated to take over the services superintendent job. She will be responsible for quality assurance for all food, lodging and custodial contracts. "When the orderly room told me I was going on a remote assignment to Johnston Island, I was a bit surprised," said Farmer, a soft-spoken Fort Lauderdale, Fla., native. "I had no idea what the Air Force did here, but I figured a base on a Pacific island couldn't be that bad."