(14 Oct. 86) As we followed the west reef north I looked forward with anticipation to my twenty-four hours on Illeginni Island, the place that Russian forces like to visit whenever possible. It’s considerably bigger than the outer islands I had been on so far and I’m especially interested in seeing the abandoned camp which is now used as a target for ICBM nuclear warheads , or RVs (Reentry vehicles), as the Army prefers to call them. Looking north, the paved mound is the first thing you see. This mound launched missiles from two underground silos during the 1970s as part of ABM (anti-ballistic missle) testing for tracking and shooting down incoming ICBM RVs.
We approached the island from the ocean side of the reef in order to head into the easterlies for touchdown. On the south end of Illeginni a large earthen mound, similar to the one on Meck Island, looms over a channel that connects lagoon with ocean. A concrete roof and two missile hatch covers adorn the top of the mound. Looking south, there is a silver trailer and two white geodesic domes on the west side of the mound. A paved road between the trailer and the mound curves around and ends at the summit of the mound.
The island looks like a fishhook from the air, with a piece of tree-covered land forming a hook into the lagoon. Another street begins at the helipad on the north end, goes straight down the middle of Illeginni, then breaks left at the large microwave tower just before the mound, then heads east a hundred yards forming the hook. Inside the hook is a beautiful harbor with two concrete and steel piers painted bright orange. Coconut palms line the harbor which reminds me of a large swimming pool at some luxury resort.
The north/south street has strips of jungle along both sides for three hundred yards. And between the jungle and the large helipad on the island’s northern tip I could see what looked like the remains of a bombed out village.
Constable Tulenkun and I waited at a a small storage shed next to the helipad until the helicopter cleared the island and rose into a clear sky enroute to Gagan across the lagoon. On the east side of the shed a camera tower, shaped like a giant barrel turned on its side, surveyed the village from a platform three flights of steps up.
We had a lot of gear and our trailer seemed much farther than a half mile away. Tulenkun suggested we take the bicycles resting against the shed. He actually pointed to the bikes without comment since his command of English, I discovered back at Kwaj, consists of maybe a dozen words. At least that’s all he chose to use.
The bikes in question are in true Kwaj condition. The tires are flat and the basket, fenders and frame are primarily rust. Pieces fell off when Tulenkun put his bag and our four boxes of food on top of the basket of one bike. I decided to walk since the remaining bike had no seat, only a rusty spike protruding up from the frame.
I watched as Tulenkun made his way down the street, the front wheel of his relic wobbling in the strong breeze. I followed him at a leisurely pace. Craters, about eight feet deep and twenty feet across, pockmark the sand around the helipad. Buildings made from wood, concrete and metal line both sides of the street in various stages of destruction. One small concrete utility building had one half of its structure missing. The war head that hit it drove the cement floor and a large water heater partially below the surface of the island. That’s hitting the bullseye from nearly 5000 miles away at Vandenberg AFB, California. Across the street a large tree trunk rests on the roof of the former dining hall.
As I walked past the jungle area white fairy terns hovered overhead, then dived toward the treetops and pulled up again in the warm sunshine. I veered to the right at the mound. It looks much bigger at ground level, certainly the only place to be in the event of a tidal wave.
I put my bags in the front bedroom and went to the kitchen and got a drink. Tulenkun was busy devouring a ham sandwich from one of my box lunches. He’s from the island of Kosrae, everal hundred miles to the west of Kwaj. The people speak Kosrean, but he also speaks Marshallese. Tulenkun stands six feet tall and has a medium build. Although his ID card shows him to be twenty-nine, he could easily pass for sixteen. The other constables have given the sleepy-eyed constable the nickname “baby face.” He’s generally quiet and easy to get along with. But all constables spend a lot of time on the landline with each other once they’re on duty.
I don’t understand why the constables only receive one meal. A supervisor told me that the constables catch their own food but so far it hasn’t worked out that way. We always share our food. I don’t eat a lot of what the PDR prepares. Much of it is high in calories, fat and cholesterol. Salami, bologna and boiled eggs is not a recipe for a long, healthy life. Even the island cats pass on this food.
1150 – I explored the island on the bike for a while but soon decided that walking took less effort. Down at the harbor I watched colorful fish pass below me in a continuing parade of unusual shapes and colors. But unusual seems to be the norm on the reef. Once again I observed new types of fish that I haven’t seen on the other outer islands.
1700 – The feeling from top of the mound is beyond description. The things I can talk about, though, are the vivid colors which surround me in the near pristine air: light blue water over the reef, deep blue just off the edge, rich greens from the jungle below, pure white fairy terns soaring and diving overhead and the white beach surrounding the heavily forested island directly south of Illeginni. A gentle breeze kept me there for several more hours. I sat on a missile hatch cover and watched as a sunset swirled its brilliant colors across a broad expanse of cirrus clouds.
0015 – I put some salami out for the island cat, a skinny black and white creature with an odd looking face. I’ve been told that many of the cats are inbred and have noticeable differences from the norm. When I checked a few minutes later a hermit crab, which had fallen into the cat’s bowl of soured milk, was dragging a piece of salami across the ground. Other crabs were moving toward the remainder of the meat.
0215 – Illeginni has a nice beach on the south end but also a few coral rocks. I feel like I’m in some time machine, thrown back in time – all alone.
Filed under: Almost Paradise Volume 1
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