Some heroes wear stars on their shoulders. Others wear two stripes and weigh barely enough to qualify for basic training. Bob Hicks’s memoir, “Failure Not an Option: A Cold War Memoir from Nuclear Crisis to Senior Federal Law Enforcement Officer,” reveals a story most Americans never knew existed. Written by a man who started with nothing but a Somerset High School diploma and unshakeable values, this gripping account chronicles how a skinny Texas farm boy became the airman who prevented potential nuclear catastrophe. Hicks’s journey from struggling to meet the 132-pound Air Force minimum weight requirement to earning induction into the OSI Hall of Fame proves that courage outweighs rank every time.
The Unlikely Beginning of a Military Legend
Three Pounds Between Dreams and Disappointment
December 1962. Bob Hicks was at the recruiting office and felt like a loser. He was tall at six feet but his weight was just a mere 129 pounds.
Three pounds short of being fit for military service. However, the recruiter noticed something in this resolute young man from Somerset, Texas. He let Hicks go to lunch on one condition – to eat bananas. After a few hours the scale surprisingly showed 132 pounds. Whether the numbers were generous or the bananas worked remains a mystery Hicks never questioned. He was in.
Physics Class Without Physics Knowledge
This wasn’t just any enlistment. Hicks accomplished to be in the 90th percentile in his aptitude tests which lead him to be selected for the special nuclear weapons maintenance training courses.
For a pupil who had not been exposed to physics in high school, the Periodic Table on the first day of the technical training was like the view of an infinitely deep void. The teacher’s comments were his rescue: “I didn’t know what it was either, but I learned.” Hicks passed. No turn-down was allowed.
From Training Grounds to Ground Zero
Nuclear Convoys South Dakota Road Trip
In October 1963, the location of the Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota became his new home. Hicks was placed in the 44th Strategic Missile Wing, which had as its main assignment the activation of 150 new Minuteman ICBMs.
Every missile was fitted with Mark 11 Re-entry Vehicle containing a W-56 warhead. Nuclear warheads were moved by each crew in semi-truck trailers across the South Dakota grassland. At barely 20 years old, Hicks drove these convoys daily. Responsible for weapons that could level cities.
Excellence Under Constant Scrutiny
The work demanded perfection. Quality control evaluators watched every move. Strategic Air Command inspection teams scrutinized compliance.
Hicks earned the first highly qualified rating of any nuclear weapons specialist in SAC. Later, the entire team achieved another first with their collective highly qualified rating.
These weren’t just badges of honor. They were validations of trust in young men carrying and maintaining civilization’s most dangerous creations.
The Night Everything Changed
A Phone Call That Changed the Course of History
On December 5th, 1964, the phone call Hicks from his team chief was simple but spooky: “There is a missile at Lima 2 and it does not have a RV on it.”
RV meant Re-entry Vehicle. The protective shell containing a nuclear warhead. Somehow, it had been blown off a Minuteman ICBM.
Technical Sergeant Ken Renfro didn’t explain over the phone. He didn’t need to.
Racing Into the Unknown
Hicks grabbed Staff Sergeant Buck Buchanan, inventoried their semi-trailer van, and drove into the twenty-degree South Dakota night. Seventy-five miles north to a crisis nobody had trained for nor ever seen.
They arrived to flashing police lights, military vehicles, and an Explosive Ordnance Disposal team chief with a problem. His bomb squad had never trained on the Minuteman system. Too new. Too classified.
Someone needed to go down into that silo with him. Someone who knew the weapon system intimately. Hicks was the one who stepped up to volunteer because he knew the system better than anyone else on that site.
Descending Into History
The Unstable Work Cage
The work cage swung unstable, suspended by a single cable. Descending into the dark missile silo, Hicks showed the nervous EOD technician how to operate it.
Together, they descended past the third stage motor, past the second stage, down to where the damaged RV and warhead lay on the silo floor.
Installing Safety Pins in the Dark
Hicks installed safety pins as they went, breaking electrical circuits to solid rocket motors. One mistake, one miscalculation, and thousands of lives could end.
He kept watching for structural damage to the missile. The aluminum fairings between engine stages could have weakened. The entire missile could collapse.
But Hicks found minimal damage. The RV and warhead, though significantly damaged, could be extracted.
When Rank Meets Reality
Back on the surface, the On-Scene Commander, a colonel awaiting promotion to Brigadier General, wore a headset connected directly to SAC headquarters in Omaha.
When the EOD chief couldn’t explain extraction methods, Hicks volunteered a solution: use a cargo net and crane to roll the RV onto the net and pull it out.
The colonel’s response stung: “Airman, when I want to hear from you, I will ask.”
Expertise Trumps Authority
But pressure changes minds. Chief Master Sergeant Leopold, the weapons storage area superintendent, recognized what headquarters needed to hear.
He brought Hicks back to explain his plan directly to SAC command post via headset. They verified the cargo net’s weight capacity. They approved the method.
A low-ranking airman had just designed the recovery plan for America’s first nuclear warhead accident involving an armed Minuteman ICBM.
The Legacy Beyond That Night
From Crisis Hero to Federal Law Enforcement Leader
Hicks’s career spanned 43 years. Twenty-three on active duty. Twenty as a Federal Law Enforcement Officer with the Air Force Office of Special Investigations.
He worked undercover with FBI agents exposing defense contractors. He responded to terrorist threats in Germany, including the Ramstein bombing and Dozier kidnapping. He oversaw fraud investigations recovering hundreds of millions from contractors working on Titan missiles and B-2 Stealth Bomber among others.
He leadership expertise was tapped when he was hand-picked to oversee the Dallas/Ft Worth and later the Los Angeles office with investigative authority for all Department of Defense contractors for the entire west coast.
He coordinated national security responses during 9/11.
The Night That Defined Everything
But that December night in South Dakota set everything in motion. It proved that expertise matters more than rank. That courage lives in unexpected places.
That a 129-pound farm boy from Texas could carry the weight of protecting thousands.
A Promise Finally Kept
“Failure Not an Option” isn’t just Bob Hicks’s motto. It’s his memoir’s title and his life’s testimony.
From struggling to meet the weight requirement at enlistment to receiving the many decorations for acts of courage, meritorious service, and being inducted into the OSI Hall of Fame, Hicks was the living proof of the power of dedication, integrity and small-town virtues when they were put to an extreme test. He responded to each with unquestionable confidence.
His tale was kept secret for a long time, about thirty years or so. The family would put up queries related to his silence and could not get the answers. Now, after a period of twenty years post his retirement, the world can finally know about it.
Heroes Come in Unexpected Packages
Heroes always do not appear in the expected way. Sometimes they are just the skinny Texas kids who will not surrender, even if it means facing the nuclear warheads at the South Dakota silos which are frozen.
Sometimes they’re the ones who eat bananas to gain three pounds. The ones who tackle physics without preparation. The ones who volunteer when bomb squads hesitate. That’s when failure truly isn’t an option.
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