Arsenal's chemical weapons accidents don't upset Ark. community

WHITE HALL, Ark. (AP) — Despite a number of unexplained fires at an Army depot destroying 12 percent of the nation's chemical weapons, there aren't too many cries of "Not in My Back Yard" in the neighborhoods around the Pine Bluff Arsenal.

Sixty years of handling weapons safely, plus the hundreds of jobs it provides, make the arsenal a welcome neighbor even if its commander can't explain four recent fires in separate areas of the military complex. Even when the sirens wail, many townspeople go about their business regardless of whether there's an emergency or just another drill.

"I know they've had a few fires, but they contained them well. I deal with a lot of employees there and they said there was nothing to worry about, and I trust them," said Bobby Young, owner of Bobby's Auto Repair shop a few blocks from the arsenal's main gate.

The arsenal has earned the trust of nearly everyone in the Pine Bluff area because it's the reason many of their families are here in the first place. Young's dad worked there. So did Pine Bluff Mayor Carl Redus' father, for 34 years. In fact, the 13,000-acre arsenal's economic benefits have drawn neighbors even closer over the years, not repelled them.

"About 15 years ago, this was all pasture land around here," said Carol Newton of the Chemical Stockpile Emergency Preparedness Program, which controls an emergency siren and radio notification system.

The arsenal has had to stop processing chemical weapons on four separate occasions, once for a minor hose leak on the second day of incineration in March, twice after small fires in May and another time because of concerns over fires at a similar incinerator in Umatilla, Ore. In June, a large fire destroyed a white phosphorus warehouse on another part of the Pine Bluff Arsenal, then flared up a few days later.

The arsenal took some heat for a weeklong delay in notifying the media the first time a rocket laced with sarin nerve agent caught fire on the assembly line.

Local, county, state and federal officials all said they were told immediately, but some, like Sen. Mark Pryor, D-Ark., and Rep. Mike Ross, D-Ark., said they wanted to see a more transparent operation.

State Rep. Jay Bradford, D-White Hall, said the arsenal "broke a pattern of being pretty open," but the community was willing to forgive because residents had not forgotten its long track record of honesty.

Col. Tom Woloszyn responded by saying changes would be made. After the white phosphorus fires, the arsenal called a news conference last week to explain that the accident was not related to the chemical weapons disposal and to report on the fire's environmental impact.

"Community confidence remains high because they know we are their families and a key element is the notification process," said Woloszyn, who, like most personnel, lives with his family on the base.

The Umatilla depot contains nearly the same types and numbers of weapons — it and the Pine Bluff Arsenal each holds 12 percent of the total U.S. stockpile — and it has experienced three of the same, sudden assembly-line fires, but the response has been different.

Grassroots protests hounded the Oregon facility before it started incinerating last year, and this month unionized workers complained about the increasing instability of the 1960s-era weapons they're handling.

No such concerns ever found a voice in Arkansas, where even the local UPS man is well-versed on the incineration process and echoes the incineration project's central credo.

"I really believe the chances of something happening during disposal are less likely than an accident in storage," said Korey Reed, who has delivered packages at and around the arsenal for 10 years. "From what I've seen our there, it's virtually impossible for something to happen."

While the Arkansas Department of Environmental Quality has stood by the Pine Bluff Arsenal's internal investigations, the Oregon DEQ forced the Umatilla depot to shut down for weeks on end. And unlike in Arkansas, the civilian project manager at the Oregon depot said he was not satisfied with how the process has gone.

"You better tell the truth out here or you'll never be trusted again," Osgood said.

Bradford's tempered criticism was that Arkansas regulators need to exert more pressure.

"Some people probably disagree with me, but we need to remind them their permits are from the state," Bradford said. "I've been earnest in encouraging the state agency to use all due diligence and not take anything for granted."

This is not to say Arkansans never worry about their depot. Larry Wright, the arsenal's civilian executive, said residents' fears were allayed recently when 911 operators explained a plume of smoke was coming from a field across an adjacent river, not from the arsenal.

And when a white smoke plume hovered over the phosphorus depot this month, the Jefferson County Office of Emergency Management received several concerned phone calls. But, again, all were satisfied when they were told it had nothing to do with the nerve agent incineration, said emergency management coordinator Wally Hunt.

Young summed up the community's confidence, even when accidents begin to worry outsiders: "Everybody's human and they're bound to have problems with everything, but I have no doubt they have the knowledge to deal with it."