Hermiston's deadly neighbor

TINY HERMISTON, Ore., learned to live with the Army's nearby weapons depot in the '40s. The town adjusted when the Army began storing chemical weapons there in the '60s. Today, as the Army builds an incinerator to dispose of those weapons, some fear poison-gas leaks. Others trust the Army.

HERMISTON, Ore. - Employee Jo Mary stands knee-deep in gas masks inside Columbia Outdoor and Surplus.

The gas masks - along with protective suits and military rations - are a sales item the store can increasingly count on in this dusty Eastern Oregon town 10 miles from Umatilla Chemical Depot, a federal stockpile for deadly chemical weapons.

"This one here is a child's size," said Mary, who sells about seven masks a week. "It fits a 6- or 7-year-old."

A Cold War relic that opened in 1941, the 20,000-acre depot for years housed only conventional weapons in its 1,001 earth-covered bunkers, or "igloos."

Chemical weapons containing nerve and mustard gas were shipped in between 1962 and 1969. Those weapons are stored in 89 bunkers. The last of the conventional munitions were removed from Umatilla in 1994. Now, the U.S. Army is bound by international treaty to get rid of the chemicals - 12 percent of the nation's original chemical stockpile.

Fear and suspicion have simmered in this tight-knit agricultural community since the Army began construction four years ago on a towering incinerator intended to destroy the 3,717 tons of chemical agent.

Bomb threats, false alarms and a recent lawsuit filed by 18 construction workers - who say they were poisoned by sarin gas leaking from a nearby bunker - have eroded residents' long-standing trust in the Army.

The town is divided by debates over emissions that might be released when the incinerator starts up in 2001. Several residents have moved away to avoid what they believe will be toxic vapors released from the incineration process, while others support plans to burn the agents.

Twenty-two individual plaintiffs and three citizens' groups have been fighting the $1.2 billion incinerator in court for three years, claiming there are proven disposal technologies that are safer and cheaper.

But plans to burn the deadly nerve and mustard gas don't faze many who have lived alongside chemical weapons for decades.

They say the incinerator has just refocused attention on a danger that has existed for Hermiston residents since the first chemical agents were brought to Umatilla nearly 40 years ago.

Cathy Barthel is one of the many who see no point in leaving, or in fighting the incinerator.

"How could you leave? We own our homes, our kids go to school here, we grew up here," she said. "You can't live in fear. You can run, but you can't run forever."

Local construction worker Joe Vandecar has more at stake in the depot's safety than most.

As a union steward for electricians, Vandecar works alongside about 500 men at the incinerator site several hundred yards from the chemical storage bunkers, low-slung A-frames camouflaged by tufts of sandy stubble.

In between sips of Budweiser at Marty South's Restaurant and Bar, Vandecar dismissed worries about chemical contamination from the incineration process.

"Do those people who are so worried about it smoke? Do they drive their cars without a seat belt?" he said. "It's the same thing."

Electricians at the site - 140 of whom are locals - aren't concerned about chemical leaks, despite co-workers' claims they were poisoned by leaking nerve agent on Sept. 15, said Doug Trudeau, the electricians' general foreman.

The Army insists there was no leak. Tests to discover what affected the 34 men, some of whom still suffer from severe asthma-like symptoms, fatigue and memory loss, have been inconclusive. Some workers say they will never be able to work again.

"We live here. Believe me, we want to build the safest plant possible," Vandecar said. "The lawsuits are mosquito bites, that's all they are."

The employment is needed

Construction workers point out the incinerator's construction has brought unprecedented growth to the area.

The steady work benefits local "travelers," unionized construction workers who would normally follow work from state to state, returning home only on weekends.

They predict the incinerator will spur other local projects that can keep them employed close to home.

"Ninety percent of the people in this bar are here because of that job," said Trudeau, nursing a pint-sized mug of iced tea.

The influx of construction workers has meant 250 new homes, several new apartment buildings and family businesses, a drop in the unemployment rate and new schools at Hermiston and Umatilla school districts, said Billie Jean Morris, executive director of the Hermiston Chamber of Commerce.

The town's average per-capita income of $23,500 - 85 percent from farming - is beginning to grow as the economy diversifies, she said.

"They have been a very good partner. I have trust in the Army," Morris said. "We're not afraid around here. My opinion is, they're getting things done."

Emergency kits scoffed at

But there are many in Hermiston who aren't so trusting.

James and Kay Bryan manage the 4-year-old Sundial Apartments, where a number of Umatilla workers live.

The squat blue complex sits on the outskirts of town, steaming under the August sun. The incinerator's boom, in part, built the apartments and has given the Bryans a steady job.

Their gratitude stops there.

James Bryan recently gave up the idea of taking a $17-an-hour maintenance job at the depot because his wife was afraid for him.

The Army has issued kits to Hermiston residents that are supposed to help protect them if there's a leak from the depot. The so-called shelter-in-place kits consist of plastic sheeting and duct tape to seal windows and doors, a cotton towel to place over mouth and nose, and a tone-alert radio to warn residents of chemical leaks.

The kit, says Bryan, is laughable.

"If it goes off in the depot, we're all dead," Bryan said. "Let's admit we have a problem. Issue some gas masks. Then at least we'd have a fighting chance."

Army plan wins in court

The Bryans haven't saved enough to move, but others who feel similarly have taken the next step.

Former Hermiston resident Stuart Dick moved his family in 1996 after seven years in the 12,000-person town because he is afraid toxic fumes from the incinerator will contaminate Hermiston's air and soil.

Dick, his wife and daughter now live in the Blue Mountains 25 miles outside of Pendleton.

An individual plaintiff in a lawsuit to stop the incinerator, Dick is considering moving to Australia, where his wife grew up, when the chemicals start burning.

"We loved Hermiston. It was a heartache having to leave there," he said. "We had friends, a beautiful house that I built with my own hands."

The Army maintains the incinerator's end-product won't be more dangerous than fumes released from a normal industrial smokestack.

A state Circuit Court judge recently upheld the incinerator permit, ruling against plaintiffs in the lawsuit, said Stu Sugarman, an attorney for the plaintiffs.

Karyn Jones, who keeps a gas mask in her car and is a party in the lawsuit, said the group she helped found - called GASP - will appeal.

But at the red, white and blue-painted Columbia Outdoor and Surplus, store manager Barthel directs a customer to the electronics section, then pauses to explain why she - like most people she knows - doesn't question what the Army tells her.

"I don't think about it until people buy a gas mask," she said. "I am very pro-military. We still believe, no matter all the problems, that the U.S.A. is the best place to live. I trust the Army and I always will."