I was an air traffic controller. Joined the Navy in June of ‘74, six days out of high school, went to boot, a training school in coastal Georgia, then Kef, and finished my four-year hitch at the naval air station in Brunswick, Maine. Was interesting duty. Kef and Brunswick were anti-submarine warfare stations, responsible for tracking - and being in a position to destroy - the Soviet subs which transited between their base near Polyarny and our east coast. The Sovs would puddle around in the deep water off the Continental Shelf, where they could shoot a nuke at Washington with just a three-minute flight time; practically no time for the President to pick up the phone order our forces to shoot back. Our main armaments were torpedoes with conventional warheads, delivered by P-3 patrol planes. Also thermonuclear depth charges. We had 36 cans at Kef, each with a 1.6 kiloton yield, and 32 of the same at Brunswick. This was before the debut of precision guided weapons, so we needed the equivalent of fishing with a grenade.