Storm Watch

(Originally published October 2002 by Airman magazine)

Forget the mission. Everyone talks about Iceland’s weather. It’s like some Shakespearean character inspiring defiance, tragedy and romance in one sitting.

Winds rage across the Reykjanes peninsula’s black pumice-crusted skin providing commercial airline passengers landing there the rush of a first-time bungee jump. Cold’s teeth clamp down on cheeks, eyes, noses and lips. Thick snow drifts blow through like the playwright’s fictional armies storming a castle, eager to claim victory on just one unguarded victim.

It sinks fishing boats. It musters Marines to form human chains for “kid-catching duty” so school-aged children getting off the bus won’t blow away. It whips car doors past their limits, creating “The Keflavik Crunch.”

Staff Sgt. Melissa Melger, a personnel troop assigned to the tenant 85th Group at Keflavik Naval Air Station, Iceland, knows the character of the weather well.

“You haven’t seen weather until you’ve been to Iceland,” she said.

The 650 or so airmen at Keflavik laugh at it. Most get used to the sun shining 24 hours a day, contrasted six months later with no sunlight for weeks on end. But the weather is always at the top of conversation, especially during winter.

Group Command Chief Master Sgt. Dan Kuester said there’s no gradual acclimation.

“We welcomed the Hawaii Air National Guard for a rotation. They were like, ‘What the heck is going on?’ ” the chief said. “It’s not Hawaii. Your lifestyle will change.”

Not always welcomed
Americans and their technological toys have not always been welcomed in Iceland. The United Kingdom originally set up camp without Icelandic permission. Then came the United States. When the British needed troops for battle, both governments insisted the United States should provide the island’s protection.

After receiving approval from the Icelandic prime minister, President Franklin D. Roosevelt sent in the Navy. He addressed the Icelandic occupation issue July 7, 1941.

“The United States cannot permit the occupation by Germany of strategic outposts in the Atlantic to be used as air or naval bases for eventual attack against the Western Hemisphere,” the president said.

After the war, however, the United States broke a contract and didn’t withdraw its troops. Instead it asked for and was refused permanent military bases. The two governments later reached a compromise in 1946 spawning Keflavik and a seven-year lease. Eventually, Iceland joined NATO in 1949. During the Korean War, the United States received permission to station troops in Iceland, this time under a NATO umbrella.

Hunting grounds
Keflavik is coupled with Keflavik International Airport. The naval station — home to the joint-billeted Iceland Defense Force — is a stone’s throw from the Arctic Circle, wedged between Greenland and the invaluable, oil-rich storehouses beneath the North Sea.

These were once-fertile hunting grounds. American pilots sent here flew P-38s, P-40s, F-89s, F-102s, F-15s, F-16s and other aircraft in search of one of the Cold War’s top prizes — a silver hulking Russian turboprop-driven bear bomber. From 1962 to 1973, the Iceland Defense Force intercepted more than 1,000 Russian aircraft. In the mid-1980s, Iceland intercepted more than 170 aircraft each year.

Like any good hunt, 90 percent of the time spent is waiting until “Loki” spots the bear. Loki — the Norse god of mischief and the call sign for the 932nd Air Control Squadron — has watched 250,000 square miles of airspace in and around Iceland for 50 years [See “Band of Gypsies,” August 2002]. A pair of New Orleans-based F-15 pilots made the most recent Bear catch in 1999.

Maj. Dave Sinnott, Loki’s operations officer, said the key to air defense is keeping his team alert.

“The greatest challenge is keeping everyone on their toes,” he said. “That’s why we run so many exercises.”

F-15 Eagle-driving hunters from around the world deploy with the 85th Group for three months. To sharpen the edge, aircrews fly regularly with Norwegian and other foreign services. But even the best hunts are spoiled by the weather, according to Capt. Mike Morgan, an F-15 pilot assigned with the group.

He said the greatest danger is a slippery runway. The nearest “divert” runway — where an aircraft would go if it couldn’t land at Keflavik — is in Scotland. Diversion usually means calling out “the tanker,” the sole KC-135 available for the task. Unfortunately, if the weather’s bad, the bloated, fuel-filled tanker can’t get airborne either. No gas means aircraft become large metal weights that can plummet helplessly into the ocean.

“The weather is a huge factor,” Morgan said. “It puts us in a bind if we have to divert.”

While the Eagles patrol the island and the humanitarian rescue team saves lives [See “Above Icy Waters,” July 2001], the assign-ment’s best secret may be hidden away in its education center. Iceland serves as a safe harbor to complete work on associate’s and bachelor’s degrees.

Airman 1st Class Joshua Highley, one of Loki’s scope watchers, has extended his stay twice to further his education. Why not, he said, given the ample resources and opportunities the assignment provides.

“When you’re assigned to Mountain Home [Air Force Base, Idaho], or Hill [Air Force Base, Utah], you’re pretty mobile. You won’t get the same kind of time you have in Iceland to finish a degree,” he said. “I came here for the break.”

Icelandic culture
Iceland displays some radical cultural differences with its temporary American inhabitants. This is, after all, a country nine centuries America’s senior with roots in Viking lore.

Iceland was settled by Nordic people in the 9th century. Tradition says the first permanent settler was Ingólfur Arnarson, a Norwegian Viking who made his home where Reykjavík now stands. Icelanders still speak the language of the Vikings, although modern Icelandic has undergone changes of pronunciation and vocabulary.

Iceland also upholds another Norse tradition — using patronymics rather than surnames. An Icelander’s Christian name is followed by his or her father’s name and the suffix -son or -dóttir. For example, Gu rún Pétursdóttir is Gu rún, daughter of Pétur. Members of a family can therefore have many different “surnames.” Iceland is the only Western culture still doing this.

Service culture
While Icelanders and Americans have cultural differences, there are similar chasms between the Air Force and Navy. No one makes any bones about the uphill climb it can be on both sides. One Air Force senior noncommissioned officer said resolving the services’ differences “can be like gouging your own eyes out with pencils.” A Navy master chief petty officer agreed.

The rift is evident even as you walk into the Keflavik Naval Air Station headquarters building, which is split down the middle. Each side is distinctly service oriented.

Despite the differences, several of Keflavik’s command-level leaders, including Col. Bruce Rember, 85th Group commander, said issues about use of money, facilities, resources and time often reach mutual and amiable conclusions.

Rember cited a Zoomie vs. Squid incident involving liquid oxygen carts. Recently, the perception of some bluesuit maintenance troops — who had three liquid oxygen carts — was that the Navy maintainers — who had one cart — weren’t taking care of their equipment. So, they shouldn’t ask to use what the Air Force has available.

“Most of this was hearsay,” he said. “It turns out folks simply weren’t talking to one another.”

Eventually, the airmen invited the sailors for some maintenance training and face-to-face conversation. It worked. Both sides gained a deeper understanding of a once tension-filled issue. Rember said this kind of outreach will be how both sides of the headquarters hallway work together to keep the operation running smoothly.

“It’s a very collaborative effort between us and the Navy,” the colonel said. “There’s probably not always one practical approach to every situation. You have to know the right touch points. However, I think we’ve started to create the right environment now.”

Back to the weather
Cultural differences aside, everyone returns back to the common point of reference — the weather. Rember’s first F-15 flight involved making a landing in ferocious crosswinds and referring to emergency checklists. Another had him on a one-hour loiter over Keflavik while a freak snow storm blew through.

“The weather,” he said, “is probably the first thing people talk about.”

Iceland’s weather can bring harrowing experiences and leave rich memories. But its gruff character, Kuester said, isn’t strong enough to wear on the psyche of the airmen pulling the tour.

“We’re pretty careful about watching how the weather affects people’s behavior,” the chief said. “You can get cabin fever pretty quickly. As long as the sun’s out, you should get outside.”

Melger summed up her Iceland assignment experience by comparing it to the weather.

“The job is easy compared to the weather,” she said.

(Story by Tech. Sgt. Jason Tudor;photos by Master Sgt. John E. Lasky

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