Have you got four pence? We have a war to start.

[oggbashan]

Revealed today - in the 1960s and up to 1970, whenever the UK prime minister was travelling if a nuclear war started when he was away from Downing Street, we had four minutes warning.

In that time, to release the nuclear response, the prime minister had to find a public call box (or AA or RAC box) insert four pennies and call to set off the UK's armed nuclear response. If he, or his chauffeur didn't have four pennies he had to reverse the charges.

From experience at the time, setting up a reversed charge phone call took longer than four minutes. Oops!

And that covered the time of the Cuban missile crisis.

The Americans had a dedicated officer with radio communications always beside the President. So did the French.

But we Brits had to find a public call box and use four pennies.

No wonder the Russians didn't believe it.

 

[Sammael Bard]

So, hundreds of thousands of people would be screwed if the Prime Minister fumbled?

 

[Hypoxia]

So, hundreds of thousands of people would be screwed if the Prime Minister fumbled?

That could never happen. Not in this universe. Thus, alt.reality wins again.

Thank Dawg the US administration hides its buttons in ersatz cheeseburgers toted by 3rd-world naked nymphets (cloaked in uniforms for public display). Any launch finger must work its way past fat, meat, and layers of buns. That will likely take more than four minutes, just long enough for the mini-sub terrorists bought from a drug cartel to launch from a an offshore freighter to deposit its nuclear egg... on a Delaware shore, for only a minor distraction from all our global hoo-haw. Four minutes? A dozen tweets could escape.

Pity the poor PM who left his last fourpence on a BBW hooker's pillowcase. There goes Greenwich, and thus global time. The End. All for lost change. Oy.

 

[SamScribble]

I seem to recall that fourpence bought you a pint of milk back then.

 

[ElectricBlue]

Hence the scene in Doctor Strangelove where Group Captain Mandrake is trying to get through to the Whitehouse, and doesn't have money for the payphone. Kubrick was making a documentary.

 

[Handley_Page]

It should be born in mind that the four pennies was at a later time.
The price of a phone call rose from three to four pence.

 

[Bramblethorn]

So, hundreds of thousands of people would be screwed if the Prime Minister fumbled?

Well, those people were screwed either way. The issue was more about whether they got the chance to screw someone else in retaliation.

Four pennies between the PM and his chauffeur... that's one per eye. Poetic in a grim sort of way.

 

[SynSlave]

Hence the scene in Doctor Strangelove where Group Captain Mandrake is trying to get through to the Whitehouse, and doesn't have money for the payphone. Kubrick was making a documentary.

Right?

Listen. I need to speak to the President. It's really, REALLY, important. So could you please put me through?

 

[Hypoxia]

It should be born in mind that the four pennies was at a later time.
The price of a phone call rose from three to four pence.

(from memory) That's like the Boston subway MTA Song where Charlie "put ten cents in his pocket, kissed his wife and family / Went to ride on the MTA". But fares were upped that morning and "when he got there, the conductor told him, 'One more nickel!' / Charlie couldn't get off that train," a campaign song for the Socialist candidate for mayor. "Will he ever return? No, he'll never return, and his fate is still unlearned / He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston / He's the man who never returned."

For lack of a copper coin, tragedy ensued. I recall jokes about pay toilets, too. (In Germany, they had attendants.) "For lack of a nickel, I shat in the sink" contrasts with "Here I sit, all broken-hearted / Paid to shit and only farted." Oh, the economic consequences...

Enough of that. Think of crossing WAR GAMES with a casino hack, so 'winning' at a certain slot machine triggers ICBM launches. Hopefully you're one coin short of that play. Whew.

 

[jaF0]

I seem to recall that fourpence bought you a pint of milk back then.

How much was a ... uummm .. companion? You know, for an hour or so.

 

[eroticstoryspinner]

Growing up we were very laid back about the Cold War. We had so many primary targets around us we were going to get vaporized in the first strike.

 

[Hypoxia]

Growing up we were very laid back about the Cold War. We had so many primary targets around us we were going to get vaporized in the first strike.

Ditto about targeting, what with missile factories and air bases nearby.

Not so ditto about being "laid back". Elementary school duck-and-cover drills weren't calming; nor were dreams of a FLASH and mushroom clouds outside my bedroom windows. Backyard bomb shelters. Geiger counters. "We will bury you!" headlines. Weekly air-raid siren tests. Conelrad alerts on TV and radio. Atom Girl couldn't save us, and Lead of the Metal Men couldn't wrap around everyone. I doubted I'd reach adolescence.

Existential angst is awful for sub-teens. But hamburgers were cheap then.

 

[ElectricBlue]

Right?

Listen. I need to speak to the President. It's really, REALLY, important. So could you please put me through?

You'll be answerable to the Coca Cola company, and forever badged (by Bat Guano) as "some kind of deviated prevert."

Yep, after the end of the Cold War, a bunch of NATO and Soviet Navy submarine commanders got together and started swapping stories. "How close did we get to the big shebang?" was the basic question. Fucking close, was the answer, with 1984 (just after KAL 007) being just about the worst year. They then swapped stories of their "near misses" underwater. "Was that you, driving that boat?" "Yes, that was me. All I can say, is you drove your boat like a motherfucker, constantly in my baffles. Every time I turned around, you were gone." The overall conclusion was, thank goodness they were all very, very good, and never actually collided (the ones who weren't so good are still on the bottom of various oceans).

 

[Bramblethorn]

Yep, after the end of the Cold War, a bunch of NATO and Soviet Navy submarine commanders got together and started swapping stories. "How close did we get to the big shebang?" was the basic question. Fucking close, was the answer, with 1984 (just after KAL 007) being just about the worst year.

Spare a thought for Stanislav Yevgrafovich Petrov, of blessed memory.

 

[oggbashan]

Spare a thought for Stanislav Yevgrafovich Petrov, of blessed memory.

Thanks to him we are still here.

 

[Voboy]

Ditto about targeting, what with missile factories and air bases nearby.

Not so ditto about being "laid back". Elementary school duck-and-cover drills weren't calming; nor were dreams of a FLASH and mushroom clouds outside my bedroom windows. Backyard bomb shelters. Geiger counters. "We will bury you!" headlines. Weekly air-raid siren tests. Conelrad alerts on TV and radio. Atom Girl couldn't save us, and Lead of the Metal Men couldn't wrap around everyone. I doubted I'd reach adolescence.

Existential angst is awful for sub-teens. But hamburgers were cheap then.

This. I never worried about it.

It helped equip me for life in the modern world, actually.

 

[oggbashan]

During the Cuban Missile crisis I was a new officer in the Ministry of Defence.

As the most junior officer I had an important role. I had to stand on the tallest tower in the target area with a plotting table, a protractor, and report any nuclear explosions that I saw with distance, direction and height of mushroom cloud. Until then I had to keep speaking down the phone to my superiors based in a bunker a hundred or more feet underground. I was provided with a copy of the Bible and the complete works of Shakespeare to keep reading.

The flaw? Any missile heading to that part of the UK would fall straight on me.

It gave me a sense of my relative lack of importance as a new appointment.

 

[jaF0]

It gave me a sense of my relative lack of importance as a new appointment.

During the chaos after a certain day in the US some 18 years ago, the powers in all their infinite wisdom took it upon themselves to have some LEOs park on top of hydro dams just in case a hijacked airliner were to approach.


The did not issue them catcher's mitts.

 

[Handley_Page]

During the Cuban Missile crisis I was a new officer in the Ministry of Defence.

As the most junior officer I had an important role. I had to stand on the tallest tower in the target area with a plotting table, a protractor, and report any nuclear explosions that I saw with distance, direction and height of mushroom cloud. Until then I had to keep speaking down the phone to my superiors based in a bunker a hundred or more feet underground. I was provided with a copy of the Bible and the complete works of Shakespeare to keep reading.

The flaw? Any missile heading to that part of the UK would fall straight on me.

It gave me a sense of my relative lack of importance as a new appointment.

That reminds me of the worth of my duties in the RAF.
On Exercise, we plebs were assigned as guards at 'vital points'. Headquarters being a Most
Vital of all positions, we guards were to be neat, smart and alert (I once caught the Boss with no ID card and would not let him in).
Naturally,, this was target No !, so what became of us is lost in antiquity. . . .

 

[ElectricBlue]

That reminds me of the worth of my duties in the RAF.
On Exercise, we plebs were assigned as guards at 'vital points'. Headquarters being a Most
Vital of all positions, we guards were to be neat, smart and alert (I once caught the Boss with no ID card and would not let him in).
Naturally,, this was target No !, so what became of us is lost in antiquity. . . .

That reminds me of the day I tried getting in to my security guarded defence establishment on my bus pass. I did. I also got home that day on my security pass, so that was a novel reciprocal arrangement. They've got better at security since .

 

[oggbashan]

That reminds me of the day I tried getting in to my security guarded defence establishment on my bus pass. I did. I also got home that day on my security pass, so that was a novel reciprocal arrangement. They've got better at security since .

My first Ministry of Defence pass had a defective photo with one-quarter of my head missing. It didn't seem to bother the security detail that I actually had a complete head - perhaps because I was well known and distinctive with a ginger beard and a flat-topped crew cut bleached by the Australian sun.

 

[ElectricBlue]

My first Ministry of Defence pass had a defective photo with one-quarter of my head missing. It didn't seem to bother the security detail that I actually had a complete head - perhaps because I was well known and distinctive with a ginger beard and a flat-topped crew cut bleached by the Australian sun.

The photograph was real. Your mother obviously forgot to tell you about your head .

 

[oggbashan]

The photograph was real. Your mother obviously forgot to tell you about your head .

I don't think so. I think that what mattered was that I outranked the officer in charge and could have been awkward - but I never was and cooperated willingly.

 

[Hypoxia]

Back in the day, ordnance bunkers at Ft Riley, Kans-ass USA were sited on Custer Hill in a large circular bison enclosure. Within that strongly fenced multi-square-mile area were the First Infantry Division's small and large ammo (*) stores and several dozen cranky multi-tonne bison -- buffalo, in local parlance, before overspiced wings. Security crews in jeeps, armed with shotguns not M16s, were in most danger of the pets.

To wage war, first obtain permission from the bison. THEN go grab your reloads. No, singing softly by the paddock at night does not calm them.
_____

(*) Munitions included the usual 'conventional' bang-bang shit, and NBC (nuclear-biological-chemical) rounds for extra fun. Don't inhale.

 

[Handley_Page]

Back in the day, ordnance bunkers at Ft Riley, Kans-ass USA were sited on Custer Hill in a large circular bison enclosure. Within that strongly fenced multi-square-mile area were the First Infantry Division's small and large ammo (*) stores and several dozen cranky multi-tonne bison -- buffalo, in local parlance, before overspiced wings. Security crews in jeeps, armed with shotguns not M16s, were in most danger of the pets.

To wage war, first obtain permission from the bison. THEN go grab your reloads. No, singing softly by the paddock at night does not calm them.
_____

(*) Munitions included the usual 'conventional' bang-bang shit, and NBC (nuclear-biological-chemical) rounds for extra fun. Don't inhale.

It's not nice when there's an "accident".
RAF Fauld (in Staffordshire) was the depot for over 3500 HE bombs and a great deal of ammunitions.
It was the biggest man-made bang outside a nuke and the crater is still there.