“Unraveling the Mysteries: How Fire, Ice, and Plutonium Could Redefine Our Understanding of the Universe”
Have you ever wondered what happens when a routine military operation goes completely off the rails—like, “Oops, I accidentally dropped a nuclear bomb” off the coast of Greenland kind of off-the-rails? Well, sit tight because I’m about to unravel the gripping, yet often overshadowed tale of the 1968 Thule incident, a catastrophic event that not only threatened a delicate Arctic ecosystem but also put a strain on relationships between NATO allies. Imagine a time when the world was teetering close to the brink of nuclear oblivion during the Cold War, and then picture a B-52 bomber, armed to the teeth, unexpectedly crashing—talk about raising the stakes in a high-stakes game! This isn’t just a historical footnote; it’s a story packed with intrigue, cover-ups, and the kind of drama that could only be born out of an era defined by mistrust and tension. So buckle up for a wild ride back to a time when the world was more ‘duck and cover’ than ‘the sky’s the limit!’ To dive deeper into this riveting story of espionage and environmental impact, hit that link: LEARN MORE.
Lasting from the end of the Second World War in 1945 to the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the Cold War was among the most dangerous periods in all of human history. For over four and half decades, the communist east and the capitalist west eyed each other suspiciously across the Iron Curtain, locked in a deadly game of nuclear brinksmanship known as Mutually-Assured Destruction or MAD. Maintaining this balance of terror involved a vast fleet of aircraft, submarines, and missiles, armed with enough nuclear firepower to annihilate human civilization dozens of times over. It was a complex and delicate system, one in which even a minor mishap could spell disaster. And while mercifully all-out nuclear war never broke out, the Cold War saw plenty of near-misses, with one of the worst and most controversial being a plane crash which threatened to destroy an entire Arctic ecosystem and strained diplomatic relations between two NATO members to the breaking point. This is the forgotten story of the 1968 Thule [“Tool-ay”] incident.
On October 4, 1957, history changed forever when the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 1, the world’s first artificial satellite. While the beachball-sized craft did little more than transmit a series of beeps, its mere presence filled American military planners with existential dread. For the same rocket that carried Sputnik into orbit, the R-7 Semyorka, could also place a nuclear warhead anywhere in the continental United States within 30 minutes, wiping out the entire U.S. nuclear arsenal without warning. And unlike manned nuclear-armed bombers, such Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles or ICBMs could not be intercepted or shot down, making them the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Almost overnight, the balance of the Cold War shifted firmly in the Soviets’ favour.
In response to this new threat, in 1958 General Thomas Power, commander of the U.S. Air Force’s Strategic Air Command or SAC, initiated a system of airborne alert in which a fleet of nuclear-armed Boeing B-52 Stratofortress bombers would be kept in the air at all times. This way, even if the rest of the U.S. nuclear arsenal was wiped out by a Soviet surprise attack, SAC could maintain second-strike capability. The largest of these operations, codenamed Chrome Dome, was launched in 1960. For nearly eight years, up to twelve B-52s taking off from eight SAC bases within the United States flew continuously along one of three long-range routes: one northwest around Alaska and Japan, one northwest over Greenland and the Canadian Arctic, and one east over the Mediterranean and Adriatic Seas. This brought the aircraft as close as possible to Soviet territory, allowing them to dash across the border and attack their designated targets the moment the order was given. These gruelling missions could last up to 24 hours – a feat made possible through the use of air-to-air refuelling by KC-135 tanker aircraft.
In August 1961, a fourth route was added to Chrome Dome known as Hard Head or Thule Monitor, which called for a single B-52 to orbit Baffin Bay and keep watch on the the U.S. Air Force Base at Thule, Greenland. Perched high above the Arctic Circle halfway between Washington, D.C. and Moscow, the island of Greenland – an autonomous Danish territory since 1814 – was of vital strategic importance to the United States – so much so that in 1946 the U.S. Government attempted to purchase it from Denmark. While the Danes refused the offer, as staunch NATO allies they nonetheless allowed the U.S. military to station aircraft on the island, resulting in the construction of Thule Air Force Base between 1951 and 1953. In 1958, Thule became home to the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System or BMEWS, a network of powerful radars and computers designed to provide early warning of a Soviet ballistic attack over the North Pole. In the eyes of North American Aerospace Defense or NORAD, the BMEWS radars at Thule would likely be the first site to be targeted by a Soviet surprise attack. The job of the Thule Monitor was thus to continuously confirm that the Air Base was still intact and whether any loss of communication was due to a Soviet attack or just regular technical difficulties – and for more on another bizarre incident involving this site, please check out our previous video That Time the Moon Nearly Started World War 3 (and Other Silly Cold War Shenanigans)
