Edition: U.S. / Global

BUSH'S ARMS PLAN; The Gun Uncocked At Bases

Published: September 30, 1991

In an underground capsule on Whiteman Air Force Base, Lieut. George Farfour was on the alert Friday evening, as usual, near the knobs, switches and dials that could send nuclear missiles shooting from beneath the farm fields of western Missouri and toward the Soviet Union.

The cramped, submarinelike control room is also equipped with a television, and the 27-year-old missileer, as missile crew members are called, had it turned to President Bush's address.

As he listened to the announcement of nuclear cutbacks, his eyes grew wide. He turned to his partner in the capsule, Capt. Scott McCormick, who was taking his turn to sleep. "Sir," he said, jostling him awake, "I think there's something you should know about."

The official word came Saturday morning on a printer inside the capsule. The essence of the message: uncock the nuclear gun. 'Great Day for Missileers'

"You could hear all this revelry," said Captain McCormick, referring to the intercom system that links five control capsules. "And someone said loudly, 'This is a great day for missileers.' "

For three decades, the nation's nuclear weapons have been geared to fire at a moment's notice. But after the President's orders to "stand down" from constant alert status, the crews programmed the controls on Saturday in a way that would make it impossible for them to launch the missiles without carrying out a complicated and time-consuming procedure. A crew member likened the action to "taking the keys out of the car's ignition."

Despite the removal of the alert status, the missile crews will continue to work 24-hour shifts in the control centers, monitoring the safety and condition of the missiles.

But their posture is relaxed, and at bases around the country, service personnel spent the weekend adhering to it. Nuclear-tipped bombs were removed from Air Force jets, and the planes were moved to hangars. Nuclear weapons were taken from submarines. Many of the nuclear bombs are to be destroyed.

When the weight of the news finally hit him, Captain McCormick said he felt a welter of emotions. "It made me think: 'This is what we've been here for. This is why we've been doing our jobs.' It made me hopeful to think about world peace." Boredom and Terror

Work inside the missile control capsules has been described as hours of boredom that could be broken by moments of sheer terror. And for those who have been trained to unleash nuclear weapons, always vigilant for "the unspeakable," as Lieutenant Farfour called it, no order could have brought more joy.

"Our job is to prepare for an action that we never want to take," said Lieutenant Farfour, who wore a blue jumpsuit with a patch that bears the symbol of the Strategic Air Command, a clenched fist gripping a lightning bolt and an olive branch. "There are usually very few ways to measure how well we do. It's hard to measure a deterrent. It's not like on the battlefield where you can see a victory. Well, for us, this is victory."

The new nuclear weapons posture will mean changes for the Strategic Air Command near Omaha, where Air Force officials issue directives from an underground center. Starting next year, the center will be called the Strategic Command, and will be run by both the Navy and the Air Force.

"The underground control center will continue to be a hub of activity around the clock," said Maj. Don Planalf, a spokesman for the Strategic Air Command. "But some of the changes are yet to be sorted out."

The changes are the latest significant move to relax the nation's nuclear weapons readiness. In 1968 the Government brought down the B-52 planes that had stayed constantly aloft since 1957, and put them on "alert" status. The airborne command center, which had been kept in the sky in case of military attack, was brought down last year. Corn, Beans and Warheads

At the Whiteman Air Force Base here, about 60 miles southeast of Kansas City, 15 underground capsules have served as control centers for 150 nuclear missiles buried in the surrounding countryside. Each control center is operated by two-member crews who work together in 24-hour shifts.

Above the control centers are small buildings that look like surbuban ranch houses. A basketball hoop stands next to some sites. The nuclear silos are under Federal land amid fields of corn and beans. Cyclone fences surround each missile site, with posted warnings to stay away.

For people who live in the region, the presence of the nuclear missiles has always raised some concern that it would be a prime target in a war. "Everyone always figured we'd get hit right away," said Chad Davis, who works at a service station near Warrensburg. "So this makes it a little safer. But now people are a little worried that they'll cut back on the base. That's the strongest part of our economy."

A fleet of B-2 bombers is scheduled to begin operation next year at Whiteman, where 3,400 men and women are stationed. And missile crew members say they are prepared for the possibility that alert status could return. "Our mission isn't over," said Captain McCormick. "Once we feared the British, then the French, then the Soviets. Times will change. But we're always going to have to be ready."

In training to be missile crew members, the officers are instructed to ponder the enormity of their actions, if they should be called upon to launch the nuclear weapons. They are instructed about the devastation that nuclear missiles would cause. And they are told to search their souls: "Is this something you really want to do?" they are asked directly.

"You have to know," said Lieutenant Farfour, "that when you launch, you're probably going to get hit yourself."

When his shift ended, he called his younger brother, James. "Did you see the President?" he asked. "Well, I was carrying out those orders."

And his brother replied, "I'm just glad that this is the order you got."

Photo: For three decades, the nation's nuclear weapons have been geared to fire at a moment's notice. But after the President's orders to "stand down" from constant alert status, crews on Saturday deactivated Air Force missiles on alert. Lieut. George Farfour, left, and Capt. Scott McCormick were on duty in a missile capsule in Missouri when they received an order to take their fingers off the nuclear trigger. (David Hutson for The New York Times) Map of Missouri showing location of Whiteman Air Base.