The Morning Call February 09, 2003
At Dover, sounds of freedom and quiet honor for fallen heroes
Mortuary at bustling Air Force base gives shuttle crew dignified final journey home.
By John L. Micek
Of The Morning Call
DOVER AIR FORCE BASE, Del. | The remains of the space shuttle Columbia astronauts were brought to this sprawling military base last week in the swollen belly of a C-141 Starflifter, completing a journey that began with promise and ended in a fireball in the skies over Texas.
The military port mortuary at Dover Air Force Base is the only one in the continental United States. Since its creation in 1955, it has been the primary receiving point for America's battlefield dead.
The shuttle crew's arrival has thrust the base and the mortuary into the headlines once again, focusing the nation's attention on a place that most Americans - unless they have friends or loved ones who are stationed here - only think about when the United States gears up for war or when its soldiers fall.
The televised images of solemn honor guards, flag-draped caskets and the bittersweet notes of a solitary bugle may well be the only impression that many people have of a city that traces its roots to William Penn.
The people of Dover are aware of their place in the national consciousness.
They are not always comfortable with it.
''It seems like you only hear about Dover when people die,'' one local said.
'The sound of freedom'
The approach to Dover Air Force Base is a lot like the approach to most military bases: a profusion of fast-food joints, discount retailers, budget hotels and the odd pawnshop alternate with stunning regularity on a prairie flat highway.
Local officials like to brag that they've kept the pawnshops to a minimum and kept out the strip clubs - there's just one on the threshold of town - that pop up like weeds around some installations. A couple of colleges and a few shopping malls dot the divided highway.
A few miles from the far edge of the commercial strip, the first hints that this historic community shares its borders with the U.S. military begin to emerge. The highway signs come first - trucks headed for the base are ordered to go one way, visitors the other - and a pair of water towers slash at the horizon.
In the middle distance, two massive transport planes, so big and ungainly that they look like elephants with wings, lurch into the gray February sky. As they leave, they emit a throaty roar.
The locals call this cacophony ''The Sound of Freedom.''
Finally, the signs for military housing and the base's golf course start to appear. As you get off the highway, the exit loops over an overpass, then narrows to a one-lane road leading to the main gate. Camouflaged guards stand sentinel and the city-within-a-city that is Dover Air Force Base unfolds endlessly before you.
Somewhere inside, technicians at the Charles C. Carson Center for Mortuary Affairs are getting the Columbia's crew ready for their last trip home.
Identifying the fallen
Preparations for the crew began days before their remains were transported here from Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana.
Heating and air-conditioning systems were checked. Supplies were ordered. And, just in case, 20 reservists with experience in dealing with battlefield casualties were called up.
''It's somber, but a very honorable job,'' said Lt. Olivia Nelson, the base's spokeswoman.
The Carson Center has prepared the remains of 50,000 to 60,000 military and civilian dead. The seven astronauts killed when the space shuttle Challenger exploded over Florida in 1986 were brought here, as were the bodies of those who perished when a hijacked airliner slammed into the Pentagon on Sept. 11, 2001.
The 34,000-square-foot center is the largest military mortuary in the U.S. Department of Defense, according to its Web site.
The small staff handles an average of 10 casualties a month, those killed in time of war or in the accidents that occur in times of peace. At full bore, the mortuary can handle up to 100 bodies a day, and it has storage space for 1,000 corpses.
Forensic experts agree that the mortuary staff will probably use standard DNA tests to identify the Columbia astronaut remains removed from the Texas thicket.
''It's the same kind of testing used around the world in crime labs,'' said Victor Weedn, a Carnegie-Mellon University professor who helped set up the military's DNA identification program. ''I believe that routine will be sufficient - unlike the World Trade Center accident where there was prolonged exposure to heat and decomposure.''
Larry Quarino, a forensics professor at Cedar Crest College in Allentown who helped investigate the World Trade Center bombing, agreed.
''Identifications can be made in two ways: either through dental records or by DNA analysis,'' Quarino said. ''Since we are talking about a closed set of seven people I do not anticipate any problems. My own feeling is that DNA testing is by far the more reliable of the two techniques . It is in no way as subjective as dental ID can be, and the criteria for identification are very stringent.''
According to base spokeswoman Nelson, the remains will go through an extensive process that includes scanning them for potential hazards, such as the ammunition that is sometimes found in soldiers who have been shot to death.
Each set of remains will also be assigned a bar code, so when technicians succeed in identifying each of the fallen astronauts, they'll be able to assemble as complete a corpse as possible, she said.
''We try to expedite the process so that they can be returned as soon as possible,'' Nelson said. ''There is a huge level of compassion that goes into it.''
Dominant though it may be, the mortuary is just one component of the massive air base.
Dover is home to the Air Force's 436th Airlift Wing, a complement of 36 C-5 Galaxy transport planes.
With a length of 121 feet, the four-engine C-5 is one of the world's largest airplanes. It has a crew of five, and space for up to 270 soldiers. It can fly up to 3,250 nautical miles without aerial refueling, according to GlobalSecurity.Org, a Virginia-based think-tank.
In 1998, the 4,000-strong unit at Dover flew 600 missions to 90 nations worldwide, moving 100,000 passengers, according its Web page. It is responsible for about one-quarter of the nation's airlift missions.
The base also has a reserve unit, the 1,900-member 512th Airlift Wing. It is the only Air Force Reserve unit in Delaware.
And that's why Dover Mayor James Hutchison's face creases in anger when he hears that one Dover resident jokingly referred to the town as a place people only hear about when someone dies.
''I've been at Dover Air Force Base at 3 a.m. in March, and there's no colder place in Delaware than when you're standing on the flight deck at ,'' he said tersely, his right index finger jabbing at the air. ''I've been there to witness remains brought back for their final resting place. There's no cameras. It's just an honor guard and guests.
''I watched and saw the tremendous professionalism and dignity of that honor guard as they did their job. There wasn't a person there who didn't have a tear in their eye - myself included. I can't tell you how proud I am to see that firsthand. There's no greater sacrifice in this world a person can give.''
A onetime Dover police chief who became this community's mayor nine years ago, Hutchison still carries himself like the former police officer that he is: shoulders back, head thrust forward, his handshake strong.
''We take great pride in that sound of freedom,'' he says as he points to an office wall covered with photographs of military aircraft. Nearby, a table is set with model jets and a sculpture of a military policeman. ''We are very proud of that relationship.''
The base pumps about $350 million into the local economy, and though it's exempt from local taxes because it's federal property, it supplies about 6,000 jobs to area residents.
''I wouldn't even want to consider the devastation that would occur if we lost the base,'' he said.
'Three' Dovers
Hutchison is one of the many Dover residents who have participated in the base's ''Honorary Commander'' program, which gives civilians a firsthand glimpse of the rigors of military life. Personnel from the base also volunteer extensively in the community, often as workers at the massive Dover Downs racing track in the middle of town.
''We enjoy a relationship with the men and women of Dover Air Force Base that has been working for years,'' he said.
In fact, it sometimes seems as if there are three Dovers: The air base, the community, and, at its center, the manicured campus of the Delaware state government. This city of 34,000 souls is Delaware's state capital.
William Penn founded the city in 1683, and it was laid out over an area of 125 acres by a commission of the Delaware General Assembly in 1717.
''We like to say that when we declared independence from England, we also declared independence from Pennsylvania,'' City Manager Anthony J. DePrima joked.
Modern Dover sits on about 26,000 acres. It is about 90 miles south of Philadelphia and 90 miles east of Washington, D.C. The city is 26 times the size it was in 1960.
In addition to the military base, the International Laytex Corp., which manufactures Playtex products, is one of the city's major employers.
''It's a central city, sort of like Allentown and Bethlehem,'' said DePrima, who once worked in Phillipsburg, N.J. ''The metropolitan area is a couple hundred thousand people.''
Dover is Delaware's second biggest city, lagging only behind Wilmington.
But, DePrima said, ''It doesn't take much to be second best in Delaware.''
Honorable work
When the remains of the shuttle astronauts are identified, they will be placed in a casket for shipment to a funeral home selected by their families. The five astronauts who were members of the U.S. armed forces will, like other military dead who pass through the mortuary, be dressed in full military garb for their trip home.
The remains of Col. Ilan Ramon, the first Israeli in space, will be returned to Israel.
In cases where the body is too badly mangled, mortuary workers place a blanket with the deceased's uniform pinned to it over the remains before it is placed in a casket for return to the families.
The mortuary keeps a full stock of uniforms and insignia for all four branches of the U.S. Armed Forces, and every effort is made to make those uniforms - down to the last button and pin - as complete as possible.
''It's not a business that tolerates mistakes,'' Nelson said. ''It's really honorable work.''
Frank Zaback knows all about that honorable work.
Since 1964, his family has operated the Dover Army/Navy store in the city's downtown district. It's just a few doors down from a news agent's and around the corner from a sandwich shop that Zaback says sells the best subs in town.
The son of an Air Force veteran who stayed in Dover after his career ended, Zaback has the brush cut of a military man and a strong handshake. The unofficial word is that if you can't get it at the base PX, you can probably get it from him.
Military patches and insignia of every description and for every branch of the service line the walls. The rear of the shop is crowded with military jackets, pants and shirts - all at government surplus-style prices.
''We wouldn't be here for so long if this wasn't a service-oriented business,'' Zaback said. ''Dover Air Force Base is like its own community. There is strong support both ways. They support the and the community supports the Air Force.''
From time to time, Zaback said he has supplied the medals and patches needed to complete the uniform of a serviceman killed in the line of duty.
''It's rare that they come over,'' he said of the port mortuary workers. ''They do a hell of a job.''
As Zaback leads a reporter on an impromptu tour of his store - its three floors are crammed with boxes of military patches, memorabilia and supplies - he says he frequently receives orders from soldiers stationed overseas.
During the Persian Gulf War, he said, one soldier contacted him looking for a cot.
''She said, 'Don't label it as a cot, they'll only steal it,' '' he recalled with a laugh. ''They were sleeping on the ground and getting sand fleas. So, I sent it over there and labeled it, 'respite apparatus.' ''
An emotional process
Time and again in conversation, those familiar with the operations at the mortuary use words such as ''honor,'' ''respect'' and ''dignity,'' when they talk about their work with the nation's fallen heroes.
Despite the beautiful language, it can be a task that takes a tremendous toll on those who perform it.
''When we prepared the Pentagon remains, our staff swelled from 10 to 400,'' said Nelson, the Dover base spokeswoman. ''We had a lot of people who had to step away and then come back, especially those who had to work with personal effects. They were no longer just a bar code. It's suddenly someone who has pictures of their children or a driver's license.''
To help the staff deal with that stress, the military has people trained in counseling. The program is referred to as ''Critical Incident Stress Management.''
''It's a very emotional process,'' Nelson said. '' make themselves available to all the people in the mortuary.''
Last year, the federal government broke ground on a $19.8 million mortuary building at the base that will be about double the size of the existing building. Military officials say they expect to finish it by the end of summer.
Unlikely to change are the commitment and sense of duty felt by the mortuary staff.
No doubt, a sign hanging over the door of one briefing room in the old mortuary will move with the staff to the new building.
The sign reads: ''Always with Honor.''
jlmicek@mindspring.com
Copyright © 2003, The Morning Call
