When the rainclouds turned the sky into a muddy turquoise, the cattle lazily moved closer to the covered walkways between Building 100A and the heavy bunkers.

Identical warehouses seem a little newer than the rest of the plant. I suspect these were added in the mid-1950s for the Korean War, during which about 200 buildings were added to the complex.

There are a few campers parked in the abandoned buildings around the NAD. I am guessing that they were once a more secure place to store such things OR they have always been wide open, and this was a quick and free way to dump unwanted toys.

A small bunker and blast wall between shell-loading buildings would have provided shelter during disasters, such as tornados, accidental explosions, and perhaps even enemy attacks.

Originally, the purpose of the freestanding sheet metal corridors was to connect workers with work, where the latter could blow the former into the sky if there was a single mistake. If Building 100A went, 100B would likewise take the form of a deep crater, whereas Building 200, on the other end of a covered walkway, would hopefully retain most if its shape. Now, the workers are gone, like their work, and the only purpose of the narrow sidewalks with roofing is to anatomize the prairie, which is mostly quiet once again.

This is a room where the actual explosive elements were mixed. In the event of an accident, this glass wall would give way before the concrete and thus direct the flames and shockwave away from the rest of the building. In other words, the glass is not just to get a lot of wonderful natural light into the building.

Tow Away Zone, I’m sure.

Ava between ammo warehouses and railroads.

The Naval Ammunition Depot at Hastings, Nebraska transformed about 50,000 acres of farmland into a $71 million bomb factory in anticipation of World War II. While the middle of the country was inconvenient for the Navy, it was even more inconvenient for our enemies. Nebraska’s geographic isolation was its greatest asset in this case. Ground broke in July 1942 in what became the largest of the Navy’s inland munitions plants. More than 2,000 buildings, 200 miles of railroad track, and 10,000 workers filled the space, and at one time 40% of all naval munitions were made here. After the war, most of the facility was mothballed, though it operated for a short time during the Korean War. In 1966, NAD was officially, and completely, decommissioned.

Just beyond the almost-endless grid of igloo-shaped concrete bunkers is a cemetery commemorating one of the most graphic homeland disasters during the war. On September 15th, 1944, a worker loading a train made a mistake, the details of which will never be known. Tremors were reported 100 miles away as the train and nearby depot exploded, killing 9 and injuring 53.

Today most of the plant has found new purpose as a community college, light industrial spaces, and storage.

Full Set // Naval Ammo Depot

A huge vent looks like it built in a hurry. There was actually very little in the way of bits of machinery left over… I am guessing almost anything of value was scrapped in the 1990s.

A high-voltage tunnel sheathed in concrete dips below ground near a shell packing building that now stores fireworks.

35mm Film, Expired. An abandoned swath of NAD is landlocked by soybean fields.

Identical warehouses seem a little newer than the rest of the plant. I suspect these were added in the mid-1950s for the Korean War, during which about 200 buildings were added to the complex.

This dock goes between loading bays (see glass brick walls) and the railroad.

Ava between ammo warehouses and railroads.

During the Cold War, the Air Force used the radar station to train bombardiers in radar-guided ordinance.

Part of the decommissioned plant was used by the Air Force for virtual bombing runs. This is the guard shack for the radar station.

The concrete walls, heavy steel blast doors, and plastic roof tell me that this was one of the shell loading buildings.

The license plate reads “Farm Truck”.

A truck loading dock for raw materials. Looking at the concrete, you can sort of tell where the rails used to run.

Even in monochrome, you can probably tell what colors were over Hastings that evening: Red, White, and Blue.

You can tell from the marks on the wall that there used to be pipes running the length of this square hallway, which connected a loading dock with explosive mixers.

This is a room where the actual explosive elements were mixed. In the event of an accident, this glass wall would give way before the concrete and thus direct the flames and shockwave away from the rest of the building. In other words, the glass is not just to get a lot of wonderful natural light into the building.

A heavy steel rail door to help funnel explosions upward, rather than outward.

Tow Away Zone, I’m sure.

There are a few campers parked in the abandoned buildings around the NAD. I am guessing that they were once a more secure place to store such things OR they have always been wide open, and this was a quick and free way to dump unwanted toys.

A small bunker and blast wall between shell-loading buildings would have provided shelter during disasters, such as tornados, accidental explosions, and perhaps even enemy attacks.

There are 700 of these storage bunkers. Their design was to funnel explosions upward, rather than toward other buildings, to minimize secondary explosions.

One of the hundreds of wells across the depot, as seen through an open rail door. In the distance, the radome.

This building seemed like a pump house or compressor house. It was full of empty concrete mounts.

An orphan culvert and camper, both tossed aside where nobody that will see will care.

This building looked like some sort of office.

Some sort of materials handling building, judging by the construction.

“Ballistite is a smokeless propellant made from two high explosives, nitrocellulose and nitroglycerine. It was developed and patented by Alfred Nobel in the late 19th century.” -Wikipedia.