The Ghosts of G.L.C.M.: 25th Anniversary of Closure

  • Published
  • By CA Eccles
  • JIOCEUR Analytic Center
RAF Molesworth, United Kingdom --  I opened the side entrance steel gate and shivered involuntarily as the gate groaned against the frozen and unbalanced hinges screeched as I dragged the rusting metal across the slowly dissolving cement walkway. The mid-day sun's light tried to penetrate the dark tunnel leading into the hardened bunker but could only illuminate a few feet. The ground sloped gently downward, leading me deep into the black unknown. I was the largest mammal in the area, but scenes from myriad zombie flicks and post-apocalyptic movies flashed before my eyes. Except for the occasional clank of loose cables bouncing against steel frames and howling wind, there was no sound or movement; nothing to indicate any activity at the deactivated Ground-Launched Cruise Missile (GLCM or "Glick-em") Alert & Maintenance Area (GAMA) on RAF Molesworth.
Tucked away in England's East Anglia farmland is RAF Molesworth with a long and well-documented history that dates to the early 1900s. Mention "RAF Molesworth" to Britons living in the area and most will give an almost reverent response for the role the Americans and the base played in protecting Great Britain during World War II. But, its designation in 1981 to host sixty-four mobile nuclear-tipped missiles garnered a less hospitable response and earned Molesworth a more infamous place in British history. Together with the better known RAF Greenham Common, RAF Molesworth became a focal point for anti-war and anti-nuclear protests. Despite protests, remaining World War II vestiges such as runways, hardstands, taxis, and other support structures were removed and four hardened bunkers, a watch tower, and extensive perimeter security were built in their place. Missiles deployed to RAF Molesworth in 1986, and the 303rd Tactical Missile Wing, supported by the 87th Tactical Missile Squadron, was activated in December that same year.
My flashlight's beam danced over the damp, cement walls of the tunnel entrance and hallway coming to rest on an open steel hatch door. I stepped through and fumbled my way to the end of the bay, beyond huge steel bolts and sleeping hydraulic arms until my fingers found the light switch. The bulbs flickered and hummed as energy flowed through explosion-proof wiring slowly igniting the 30-year-old fluorescent gases. Another clank startled me. While no longer pitch black, the bunker seemed more eerie as the partial lighting cast long shadows down the empty bay.
Each of the four hardened bunkers contained three such bays housing one BGM-109G Gryphon Transporter Erector Launcher (TEL), sixteen missiles, two launch control centers, and a MAN AG 8 x 8 tractor. During operations, massive hydraulic pistons at both ends of the bunker raised and lowered thick steel plated bay doors over deep trenches creating a bridge for the TEL's movement.
Slightly different from the other three bunkers, GLCM #24--the Command Bunker (now building #824), included an underground command center and additional protected living accommodations should a nuclear conflict occur. Pristine industrial-sized air filtration systems, generators, and pressure gauges were dormant in the upper level above the bay, while critical operational components sat behind heavy steel doors. There was almost no dust. No rust. Nothing to indicate the age of the units except for manual control knobs instead of high tech digital displays. A muffled "thud" echoed somewhere below; but I was the only human in the building.
One by one, I powered down the bunker's lights, until illuminated "EXIT" sign highlighted a more modern outlet. Modifications to some of the bunkers after the GAMA stood down included aluminum and corrugated steel frame extensions, chain-drive roll-up doors resting atop the permanently lowered steel bay doors, and built-in office spaces to support the 423rd Security Forces training area. The blowing wind buffeted and warped the much thinner material resulting in a nerve racking howl usually followed by a sound I can only describe as aluminum foil being dragged down an old chalk board. It was time to leave the command bunker and get a new perspective.
Hosting GLCM at an active airbase presented security challenges, not just from Cold War era adversaries but from opponents to nuclear weapons. Security personnel had manned sentry guard towers situated around the Molesworth and communicated with a subterranean concrete "pill-box" style bunkers and a U-shaped concrete firing position likely intended for the M113 armored personnel carrier and a .50 caliber M2 machine gun.
Aside from the hardened bunkers, the most notable artifact of the GLCM era was the aqua-tinted glass cube sitting atop the 150 foot- tall ground control tower. This was the last uncharted territory of my rediscovery of GAMA, and perhaps the most dangerous to explore. The tower did not have an elevator, and light fixtures that would have illuminated the 13-story staircase had been destroyed by the elements and wayward birds. The levels of ammonium from decades of bird waste mixed with decaying bird carcasses created an unpleasant and likely toxic stench. I donned a makeshift HAZMAT suit, complete with an air filtering mask and goggles, and entered the confined space. Feathers, bird droppings, and remains of rodents transformed the grated steps into solid planks, while mounds of debris rose several feet in the corners. Wayward pigeons, which had lost their way, panicked when the flashlight's beam pierced the otherwise black staircase. Some attempted to fly into the light, perhaps misguided to thinking it was an exit, while others attempted to scale the staircase walls. Still others sat in corners either frozen with fear or exhausted from starvation.
The climb was slow and arduous, but a narrow shaft of light from above gave me hope that I was nearing the top. Accessible only by a drop-down ladder, the "cube" offers a 360 degree view stretching miles. A security officer would have kept a close watch on the bulky BARC monitors and dutifully managed the security control panel which probably displayed myriad flashing and solid lights on a flat panel. Today, the cube plays host to pigeons, which enter through the open roof top or partially open windows. Bird waste, feathers, and debris from the partially decaying roof now coated the once state-of-the-art equipment. I climbed the last available ladder to the tower's rooftop, and gulped as much fresh air as my lungs would take. The view was stunning as the sun began its descent over the British countryside, but it was time to make my long and dirty descent.
From atop GLCM #25, still used today for empty fuel tanks and generator storage, a cacophony of sounds fill the air: unlatched doors bang against twisted metal frames, light poles creak and strain against rusting bolts, and wind howls in the entrance tunnels below. During its operational heyday, GAMA would have been abuzz with security patrols, blinding perimeter lighting, safety inspectors, and routine military base life. But, the GLCM mission was short-lived as in 1987 the United States and the former Soviet Union signed the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty. This led to removal of all nuclear missiles from the base by the end of October 1988. The 303rd Tactical Missile Wing and the 87th Tactical Missile Squadron was deactivated on 30 January 1989.
Twenty-five years on, the GLCM compound with its bunkers, tower, and related infrastructure serves as a stark reminder of the Cold War era now sitting empty and in an eerily quiet state of decay.

A photo-exhibit of the Ghosts of G.L.C. will be on display from 21-25 October in the Heritage Room at New York Pizza & Deli on RAF Molesworth.