Atomic reaction to your break?

The button looks innocent enough. In a tiny room, crammed with gadgets, gauges and monitors, it is just one small button on a control panel of many. Twenty-four hours a day, an officer sits harnessed in a chair, monitoring the equipment and awaiting a phone call. After receiving orders, he places a key into a slot and turns it clockwise. Punching in an access code, he takes a deep breath and pushes the small white knob.

In just over half an hour, a missile carrying a payload of ten thermonuclear warheads would hit multiple targets in the US. In the ensuing carnage, each warhead would vaporise an area of 200 square kilometres. Millions of people would die instantly and millions more from the release of deadly radiation.

Life would cease, as thousands of similar missiles would criss-cross the skies to seek out their targets. All it takes is one push of this seemingly innocent button, located in a control room 40 metres below the Ukrainian countryside.

Going weapon-free

Before its independence in 1991, Ukraine had more nuclear missiles than any country outside the US and Russia. Strategically and secretly distributed across the country, missile units were surrounded by armed guards and 3,000-volt electric fences and protected from attack in underground silos built to survive a nuclear war.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Ukraine chose to become a nuclear weapon-free zone, and with support from the US, dismantled its missiles.

Today, near the town of Pervomaisk, the legacy of Armageddon is open to the public inside one of the world's most bone-chilling tourist attractions. The Museum of Strategic Missile Troops is a former Soviet nuclear missile base that has been opened to the public by the armed forces of Ukraine.

Visitors are led on a tour by former officers who explain how large-scale nuclear missiles were managed, guarded and dismantled. Except for the missiles and engines on display, the location appears innocuous — a few low-rise barracks, a radio tower.

The face of destruction

The huge trucks customised to transport thermonuclear warheads hint at something more sinister.

The control and missile silos designed to destroy the world lie underground. As a thick iron door locks us in, I descend into a long tunnel towards the command silo. The atmosphere is dense and cold. Slightly hunched, I open the electrical toolbox designed to initiate Armageddon.

Former colonel Mikael Kamenskov had his finger on the button for more than a decade. Had he received the orders, he would be responsible for pressing the button, launching the missiles and annihilating the enemy's cities.

Well-laid plans

Moustached and balding, the colonel is a serious man. He explains the security measures and the layout of the base using scale models.

He describes how a two-man combat crew would take six-hour shifts, capable of surviving in the subterranean silo for up to 48 days without surfacing. The colonel does not present the face of a cold-stone killer and yet his actions would have resulted in the slaughter of millions. Was he scared? The severity of the situation is terrifying. But he would push the button since he was trained for it, he says.

My translator, Sergey, explains that officers were carefully screened and profiled. Any sign of moral anguish led to an immediate transfer. The air is cool as we walk along a narrow tunnel, once reserved for top-secret military personnel. Guards were instructed to kill anyone caught within the security zone that surrounds the base. How does the colonel feel now that he guides tourists from over 100 countries along the same restricted tunnel?

"It is not a secret anymore," he says, as we arrive at three more huge iron doors protecting the command silo. Above us, a 120-tonne cap protects the test-tube shaped silo.

Claustrophobic levels

The 12-level underground command-post silos were built on hydraulic suspensions to function in the event of earthquake, or more likely, missile attacks. We cram into a tiny elevator and descend towards Level 12.

I open the flap doors to find a small circular room with low ceilings. The air is musty and dank. Two bunks are fastened to the walls, with a simple aircraft-like toilet behind a door. Bleak as a tomb, this is where the two officers on duty would stay. An iron ladder takes us up to the next claustrophobic level, the command room.

Design with a purpose

All signs of life are removed. The boredom of such a post would be interminable, the doom pressing heavy on the soldiers. There is purpose in its design, as if ending the world would be a relief, an escape from such a sterile and soulless environment.

The colonel refuses to be seated in one of the chairs provided for the officers. That life, he swallows hard, is behind him. I sit down, imagining myself on duty, the hotline ringing.

It was like playing with a loaded firearm. Although you know there are no bullets and that the chamber is empty, placing the gun to your temple and squeezing the trigger is more than most sane people can handle. I envision the sickening photos from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, displayed in the museum above.

There are no nuclear missiles in Ukraine. The silos were filled with cement long ago. Yet I cannot bring myself to do it. Some buttons are just not meant to be pressed.

Calming the nerves

My bones are chilled when we exit the silo and it takes some time in the hot summer sun before they are warm. The colonel walks me over to a former missile silo, pointing out the protected radar and satellite receiver that allowed the missiles to be launched remotely.

Devices to measure radiation would alert the officers below when it would be safe to emerge as some of the few survivors of an apocalyptic nightmare. Various missiles are also on display, including the CC18, a black rocket considered to be the most advanced and deadly nuclear missile. Capable of flying through a mushroom cloud and being controlled from orbit, Nato dubs this modern Russia-made missile "Satan".

It is pure mechanical evil, carrying 10 warheads in its cap, each 50 times more powerful than the atomic bomb that exploded over Hiroshima. The nickname is apt but the same could be applied to any nuclear, chemical or biological weapon.

In 1963, the Cuban Missile Crisis brought humanity to the edge of extinction. Soviet nuclear missiles in Cuba were armed and ready to attack US cities, while US counterparts were poised in Turkey, ready to wipe the world's largest country off the map.

Lesser-known incidents

There have been at least four incidents that had the superpowers on nuclear high alert, caused by technical glitches. These were averted with the caution of just a few men. All had officers such as Colonel Kamenskov, around the world, poised to push the button.

Some scholars argue that mutually assured destruction has actually saved the world and that the terrifying consequences of nuclear annihilation are a strong deterrent, which prevents large-scale conflicts.

Reason for hope

The most distressing part of visiting this museum is knowing that hundreds of similar bases still exist, with the officers on duty, waiting for that phone call.

Within minutes, everything humanity has accomplished over millennia will turn to ashes.

While Russia and the US are reducing their nuclear stockpiles, other countries are seeking membership in the nuclear club.

Perhaps, one day, all nuclear missile bases will be dismantled and similar museums in the US, China, France, India, Pakistan, Great Britain and North Korea will demonstrate just how close we came to cleverly engineering our own destruction. Considering Ukraine voluntarily chose to dismantle its substantial nuclear arsenal, turning this site — a former death zone — into a museum, there is always reason for hope.

If you go

The Museum of Strategic Missile Troops is a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Kiev. It is open daily from 10am to 5pm. Entrance cost: $1.20 (Dh4.40) and tours cost around $4 (Dh14) for adults. Solo East Travel offers transportation from Kiev, overnight accommodation and translation services cost $50 (Dh183), for a minimum of three bookings. Visit www.tourkiev.com for details.