Completion of Johnston Island work celebrated
By Karen Blakeman
Advertiser Staff Writer
For almost a decade, a small community of workers, mostly Army civilians and contractors, spent their days on Johnston Island disassembling and burning chemical warfare agents so dangerous and unpredictable that the Army considered them unusable long before an international treaty banned them.
Photo courtesy U.S. Army
At night, the men and women watched movies at an outdoor theater, played cards, fed leftovers from dinner to sharks, went to USO shows and drank at the Tiki bar, which boasted that it served the coldest beer within a radius of 800 miles.
After the chemical weapons disposal facility on Johnston Island completed its mission, it was razed and sealed over by a coral cap. Former workers marked the end of their successful effort last night at a celebration in Waikiki.
"It was the adventure of a lifetime," said Gary McCloskey, former manager of the weapons disposal program. "I don't want to undersell the importance of the mission, or the dedication to safety, but this was the greatest thing I could ever imagine doing in my life."
Last night, McCloskey and about 100 former residents of Johnston Island met at the Hale Koa hotel in Waikiki, about 850 miles from the coral outcropping they once called home, and lifted a glass to the Johnston Atoll Chemical Agent Disposal System — a mission completed.
The Johnston Island facility now is rubble, sealed over by a coral cap. The chemical weapons were disposed of without injury to workers and, as far as testing to date has determined, without damage to the ecosystem.
Except for the ongoing Environmental Protection Agency follow-up testing, the Army's work there is done. The rest of the U.S. arsenal of chemical weapons — blister and nerve agents, some dating to World War II — will be destroyed at eight other sites on the Mainland, using procedures developed at Johnston Island.
Dale Druyor was among the original workers at the chemical agent disposal site. He helped to develop the protective "bubble suits" worn by maintenance workers who had to enter contaminated areas to service equipment.
"Oh, sure, the first-time kids were nervous and scared when they put them on and made their first entries (into contaminated areas)," Druyor said. "The suit was the only thing protecting you."
Both of his sons work in chemical agent disposal plants on the Mainland now, Druyor said. Both wear the suits, and he has no qualms about their safety.
"Well over 30,000 entries," Druyor said. "Not one problem."
"We were the prototype," McCloskey said. "There were 412,738 chemical weapons that needed to be destroyed — every one of them a unique technical challenge — and we destroyed them. We did it safely, without impact to personnel or to the ecosystem."
The people were as unique as well, he said.
"The people there weren't the 9-to-5 people you'd meet in ordinary situations," McCloskey said. "They weren't the type to take a standard job and keep it for 30 years.
"One man had spent 8 years in a Mexican prison," he said. "I never thought I'd get along with someone like that, but he became my best friend."
A grandmother in her 60s, an avid diver who had traveled extensively, showed him the importance of always pursuing life as an adventure, he said.
Johnston Island was an adventure.
McCloskey was responsible for assigning the workers, more than a thousand of them, two to a quarters on the island's military installation. It wasn't always easy, he said.
A pairing of male engineers — "one who was extremely fastidious and one who wasn't" — stands out in his mind. The two used masking tape to divide their quarters down the middle, the line starting at the front door and ending inside the refrigerator.
But when the work demanded it, the group stuck together. Those who stayed learned to depend on those around them.
While McCloskey turned Johnston Island into "half a career," his friend, the man who had been in the Mexican prison, decided to try another path. He left, got married and got a 9-to-5 job, McCloskey said.
It didn't work out. The man committed suicide.
"It was the hardest thing I ever did," McCloskey said, "when his wife called me, and I had to go tell everyone that he was dead."
Druyor left for a few years when his wife became terminally ill. He returned after her death.
The Johnston Island crew, he said, had become part of his family.
This morning, a contingent of the workers will fly to the island and place a plaque on the coral cap where the disposal facility stood, in commemoration of the history created there.
Reach Karen Blakeman at 535-2430 or kblakeman@honoluluadvertiser.com.
