Al Kellogg’s military career began not with a boot camp or a rifle, but with a miscalculation. While working part-time as a janitor in San Francisco after graduating from high school in 1965, he overlooked the requirement to take 12 summer units at San Mateo College and consequently missed enrolling for summer classes. A few weeks later, the government sent him a draft notice. With the Vietnam War escalating, Kellogg made the strategic decision to seek out the Army’s Air Defense Artillery rather than face combat in Southeast Asia. The Army offered him a guaranteed placement in the Air Defense Command if he signed up for an extra year of service, and since he had a girlfriend, he chose to stay close to home. He was assigned to SF-93, the Marin missile base located just outside of Fort Barry.
At 19 years old, Kellogg reported to C Battery at the site. His high Army test scores earned him a spot as a radar operator, assigned to the Alternate Battery Acquisition Radar (ABAR), a system developed to counter enemy jamming. The ABAR system operated under grueling conditions: shifts were split into 24 hours on and 24 hours off. The radar technology relied on vacuum tubes, which were highly sensitive to changes in weather. This meant Kellogg and his team had to manually calibrate the equipment every six hours to ensure the unit transmitting receiver boxes and radar pods were performing at peak levels. These calibrations added to the already demanding duties of regular Army life, from basic upkeep to administrative tasks.
The cost of vigilance
Kellogg’s routine was relentless. Each day, the team conducted calibration checks at 9 a.m., 3 p.m., 9 p.m., and 3 a.m., followed immediately by a 90-minute target training exercise. These practices were physically and mentally exhausting, especially for a young man who was new to such an intense military lifestyle. The constant cycle of work, calibrations, and training left little time for rest or reflection. The strain of sleep deprivation and the pressure to perform under tight deadlines began to weigh heavily on him. Kellogg endured this for 16 months before his breaking point arrived.
That breaking point came during a late-night exercise. Woken up in the middle of the night, he donned only his military-issued underwear and boots and followed the drill. When he completed the practice, an officer casually asked him if he was cold. It was then that Kellogg realized he had just gone through the entire training session fully clothed in minimal gear. The experience was a turning point. He saw the absurdity of the situation and decided to take control of his future. In 1968, he submitted a transfer request to the Army Corps of Engineers. His petition was approved, and he attended Army Drafting school before being deployed to Germany, where he served with a Corps of Engineers unit for 28 months.
From radar to bike ride
After returning home in 1970, Kellogg began his civilian life with a marriage, the start of a family, and a career in the Army Reserves. Using the technical knowledge he gained from his radar work, he became a telecommunications engineer. At the same time, he also built a successful general contracting business, drawing on the skills he developed in the Corps of Engineers. For nearly 50 years, he managed both careers, working in the engineering field and operating his contracting firm. He continued this balanced approach until he reached 60, at which point he described it as a “gift from the Corps.”
Kellogg also picked up another lifelong habit during this time—biking. He gradually increased his distances, eventually reaching rides of 80 to 100 miles. On one of these long rides, while descending a hill near the old Hawk Hill radar site in Marin Headlands, he noticed something unusual. A parked car and a visible Nike missile caught his attention. Remembering that the SF-88 site, the former home of another Nike base, had shut down in 1974, he felt a pull to investigate. He rode into the site to discover what had become of the place that once played a key role in the nation’s Cold War defense strategy. Today, Kellogg volunteers there as a docent, sharing his personal history and insights with visitors and keeping the story of Project Nike alive for future generations.
