I was 10 at the time and lived in Beck Row, a little village between RAF(USAF) Lakenheath and RAF(USAF) Mildenhall in Suffolk, England. RAF Mildenhall was about a mile from the house I grew up in, while Lakenheath was about 2.5 miles away.
Mildenhall was 3rd Air Force HQ, and home to tactical and strategic Air Wings (Transport and Air Refueling). There were SR-71s at Mildenhall. The sound of KC135s, C10s, C5s taking off and landing, and the smell of jet exhaust was the backdrop to my childhood.
Lakenheath was home to F111s. While the base was a couple miles away, the flight pattern had them flying past our home on landing approach. The DOD Schools, the AAFES commissary and BX, and the hospital serving both bases were located on RAF Lakenheath.
My father was a SMSgt under the DCM for maintenance at Lakenheath and my mother worked for the US civil service at the RAF Mildenhall switchboard. My brothers (9 and 7 years older than me) were at Lakenheath American Highschool while my sister and I were enrolled in the British school system.
In the P&S world, one would think I would end up being atomized when things went nuclear. However, Chapter III of the original P&S mentions “…a massive explosion at Munich Airport (which destroys an American cargo aircraft carrying US Air Force dependents)...” on Feb 10th. The conflict didn’t go nuclear until the 21st.
So, I suspect we kids would been evacuated back to the US and I imagine that – with a little luck - we would have ended up at my Uncle’s house in a small NH town just south of the White Mountains. He had a fallout shelter in his basement and lots of stored food. I think he had already told my dad that he would take the kids in a time of crisis anyway.
Unfortunately, I doubt my mother (who is Briton by birth and naturalized after marrying my dad) would have made it back with us. Not for lack of caring but out of necessity: My English grandfather died on Feb 4th 1984, leaving my English grandmother alone. I could see my mother putting us on an evac flight to the US under great duress, telling my oldest brother (who was a high-school senior at the time) that “he was in charge now” and that she would “follow when things settled with Granny”. Maybe she would have made it back to the US before things went hot, maybe not.
My dad would have either been in a hardened shelter on the flight line, or in his office in one of the old WWII era hangers, or sleeping in a makeshift cot somewhere on base – all the while hoping for a message that his “dependents” made it somewhere safe.
Gives me the chills…