This incident occurred in the Missile Procedures Trainer (MPT) which was a computer driven simulator with complete mock-up of a Launch Control Center. All of the equipment drawers and consoles were functional and wired into a computer system which an instructor loaded in a "scenario" driven program. A simulator "ride" could last anywhere from 2 to 4 hours depending on the scenario.
Back then we referred to the MPT as the "Box."
________________________________________________________________________
Ray Williams....The Quiet Man
How it came about, I can't remember. I was crewed with Ray Williams for the MPT sessions. Ray was from Detroit, recent grad from Howard University. Ray was the quiet type. Never said much unless he had to. Conversation seem to be a chore for him, but that was fine with me. I didn't have a hell of a lot to say myself. Ray was to be assigned to the 10th SMS at Malmstrom.
Capt Bill G. was our MPT instructor. Like Ray, Bill was an African-American, from where? I can't recall. You would think that both being black that a "Brother" helping out another "Brother" would be in the offing. This was not to be the case. From the start Bill had "something" against Ray. Bill simply decided to make Ray his personal project. Unfortunately, I would be forced to endure this ethnic duel of minds. Suffice to say our MPT sessions would be grueling and confrontational as compared to our other classmates.
After a few initial MPT sessions, it was decided that for the rest of the training course, I would ride the commander's position, while Ray sat at the deputy's seat. It would not be until my first alert at Malmstrom that I would actually occupy the back seat.
Ray and I would spend our "off" time either dining at the Officer's Club or do local site seeing around the area. I remember we drove and walked Pismo Beach. Ray would sometimes borrow my car to run errands since he had no transportation of his own. The contrast was striking, Ray being a somewhat more refined Northerner, as compared to my Southern, barely above "white trash" pedigree. What ever the ethnic and culture differences, we would need each other to get through crew training. Overall, Ray and I got along quite well. I wish I could say the same between Ray and ......Bill.
Capt Bill G. was our MPT instructor. Like Ray, Bill was an African-American, from where? I can't recall. You would think that both being black that a "Brother" helping out another "Brother" would be in the offing. This was not to be the case. From the start Bill had "something" against Ray. Bill simply decided to make Ray his personal project. Unfortunately, I would be forced to endure this ethnic duel of minds. Suffice to say our MPT sessions would be grueling and confrontational as compared to our other classmates.
After a few initial MPT sessions, it was decided that for the rest of the training course, I would ride the commander's position, while Ray sat at the deputy's seat. It would not be until my first alert at Malmstrom that I would actually occupy the back seat.
Ray and I would spend our "off" time either dining at the Officer's Club or do local site seeing around the area. I remember we drove and walked Pismo Beach. Ray would sometimes borrow my car to run errands since he had no transportation of his own. The contrast was striking, Ray being a somewhat more refined Northerner, as compared to my Southern, barely above "white trash" pedigree. What ever the ethnic and culture differences, we would need each other to get through crew training. Overall, Ray and I got along quite well. I wish I could say the same between Ray and ......Bill.
________________________________________________________
High Noon, Gunfight at the MPT Corral
Ray was having difficulty in our MPT sessions. Bill was riding Ray's ass unmercifully and since guilt by association was a time honored SAC tradition, I was fed into the fray. We were given extra sessions, especially on the weekends. I could tell that Ray was at wits end and who could blame him.
The laws of thermal dynamics and pressure simply state that pressure in a closed system can only increase to a certain point. At that arbitrary point, something has to give; Ray had reached that point.
I can't recall the exact circumstances, but Ray and I were head long into a weapons system scenario in the MPT. Bill was acting as both MPT operator and instructor. Bill was situated up in the box's control room providing instruction and criticism via audio speaker. Bill said something sarcastic to Ray. What ever was said, it was enough!. Ray slammed both fists down on to the deputy's console desk, almost shattering the plexi glass. "God damn it, I've had enough from you!" Ray shouted into the one way MPT observational mirror. "I'm going to whip your ass!" Ray started walking towards the back entrance of the MPT. I remember trying to get between Ray and the exit. Bill came rushing in with a worried look on his face. Bill's facial expression said it all. He had pushed Ray too far and he knew it. I remember Bill profusely apologizing to Ray. It took Ray some time to calm down, but eventually he did. And we quietly finished the ride.
The incident in the MPT was a turning point. After that Bill lessened his leaning on Ray. Oh, to be sure, we still had extra sessions scheduled, but the tone was dramatically different.
The laws of thermal dynamics and pressure simply state that pressure in a closed system can only increase to a certain point. At that arbitrary point, something has to give; Ray had reached that point.
I can't recall the exact circumstances, but Ray and I were head long into a weapons system scenario in the MPT. Bill was acting as both MPT operator and instructor. Bill was situated up in the box's control room providing instruction and criticism via audio speaker. Bill said something sarcastic to Ray. What ever was said, it was enough!. Ray slammed both fists down on to the deputy's console desk, almost shattering the plexi glass. "God damn it, I've had enough from you!" Ray shouted into the one way MPT observational mirror. "I'm going to whip your ass!" Ray started walking towards the back entrance of the MPT. I remember trying to get between Ray and the exit. Bill came rushing in with a worried look on his face. Bill's facial expression said it all. He had pushed Ray too far and he knew it. I remember Bill profusely apologizing to Ray. It took Ray some time to calm down, but eventually he did. And we quietly finished the ride.
The incident in the MPT was a turning point. After that Bill lessened his leaning on Ray. Oh, to be sure, we still had extra sessions scheduled, but the tone was dramatically different.
__________________________________________________________________
Ray and I would eventually take and pass our qualification check ride given by the 3901st Strategic Missile Evaluation Squadron and both of us would soon make the trek to Montana to join our new squadrons (Ray was assigned to the 10th SMS.)
Such was life as a brand spanking new 2nd Lt...
