The Red Phone

On Veterans Day, my Grandfather was asked to speak about his experience as a career officer, and to tell a story of particular importance during that time -- something that marked his life in the military. This is what he related.

In 1963-64, during the Cold War, Grandfather (a Colonel in the U.S. Army) held the post of Commanding Officer of the 69th Air Defense Group. He was responsible for six HAWK missile battalions (about 3500 troops) in the NATO air defense belt covering a large part of Western Germany. Those missiles were pointed at Russia, so as you can imagine, the situation was tense.

His duties required a Red Phone, that ubiquitous symbol of power and fear, firmly planted on his nightstand (If the Russians started any funny business, Grandfather needed to be among the first to know). His boots were by the bed, and if the Red Phone rang, my grandmother was supposed to get my then-13-yr-old uncle in the car and hightail it to Italy. The gas tank was never supposed to be less than half full, and the bags were always packed.

His Red Phone was regularly tested, but it only rang for real one time, in the middle of the night. The call was from Cheyenne Mountain and the voice at the other end of the line belonged to an Air Force General with NORAD, so obviously, it was a matter of international importance. That General was my Granddad, and he had called to tell my Grandfather the news of my birth in Colorado Springs!

Now, that's a war story I can love.

(when Grandfather told me this story the other day, it reminded

me of another Red Phone story I saw in Smithsonian magazine,

entitled My Cold War Hang-Up. It's pretty funny,too.)