[Vision2020] January 28, 1986

[Chasuk]

I've cried exactly once for a national tragedy, and it was for the
explosion of the Challenger.  I was 25 years old, stationed at RAF
Lakenheath in the United Kingdom, in the middle of a week-long
exercise with a young wife and a two-year old daughter waiting for me
at home.  The base was split in two, one half restricted to active
duty personnel, with everyone wearing chemical warfare gear and
carrying M-16s.  The other half was restricted to civilians and those
active-duty who had emergency medical appointments or other essential
business.  For me, it was early in the morning.  I was excited about
the shuttle launch, so I was happy that I was getting a tooth filled;
it meant that I'd be able to watch the countdown on the small
television in the waiting room.  On the other side of base, nearly
everyone was equally curious, but there are no televisions in
foxholes, nor were there in the hardened shelters or bunkers.
Likewise, any but flightline radio traffic was verboten.

As I drove back to my unit, I was numb, both from the painkiller
injected into my gum, and from the catastrophe I'd just witnessed.  As
I pulled up to the gate guard, I was weeping hysterically.  I showed
my ID, and I tried to tell him the secret access code, but I couldn't
spit the words out.  He asked what was wrong.  I told him that
Challenger had exploded.

"Get the fuck out of here," he said.

That's what everyone said, all day.  No one believed me.  Why they
thought I would make something like that up, I don't know.

Anyway, that's my Challenger story.