SCHENECTADY, N.Y.

Staff Sgt. Paul Lunny's 2004 application to join me 2nd Weapons of Mass Destruction-Civil Support Team (CST) read like a lumberjack seeking employment on a submarine.

After all, the fundamental mission of the New York National Guard's elite team is to identify the substance used in a WMD incident and determine its impact. And Lunny was a grunt, an infantryman who knew nothing about such tilings.

"Zero," he admits. "Absolutely zero."

Yet Lunny was selected and today is a valuable member of die team. He is joined by a former Marine mortar man, a one-time Army artillery officer and others from disparate backgrounds unrelated to hazardous materials.

But that's by design, not happenstance, says their commander, who can pick and choose his team.

"It's not potluck that you come here," says Maj. Matthew Cooper.

Cooper says applicants need no background in WMD or chemical analysis. He's not looking for scientists to add to his 22-member team, just physically fit team players who can think under pressure and want to be the first to respond when America is attacked.

He also needs soldiers and airmen who can withstand the 18 months of training it takes to be a functioning team member and who can thrive under demanding schedules and die ever-present possibility of an immediate deployment.

Maj. Rich Nunziato, deputy commander, likens it to an NFL team selecting "the best athlete available" in the college-football draft rather than picking someone of lesser overall skills for a specific position.

"The program is in its infancy," he says. "We're just now figuring out what we're looking for."

They are, in fact, looking for people like Lunny, 39, who spent eight years in the active-component and is now on the survey team, the eight-person section that deploys to the site of an incident.

"I was an infantry soldier with combat experience," he says. "I wanted to be That Guy in the unit that everyone can rely on."

And they are looking for people like Staff Sgt. Salvatore Cautela, 34, who spent eight years as a Marine intelligence officer, but had no background in WMD.

"All I had was an above average career in the Marines," says Cautela, also a member of the survey section. "The only tiling I brought to the table was myself. . . and a willingness to learn."

The CST program began in 1998. The original plan called for 10 Guard teams of specialists scattered nationwide to augment civilian first responders after a WMD event.

But Congress, spurred by NGAUS and the nation's governors, saw a need for additional CSTs to shorten response time. Lawmakers gradually authorized more teams. Today, there are 55 such units (53 are Pentagon certified)-one in every state and territory and two in California.

And there's talk of adding another CST in Florida and New York, but the plan is currentiy under study (box, page 28).

A team includes 14 specialties. Most members are from the Army Guard, with a handful of positions in each CST reserved for Air Guard members.

The 2nd CST was the first team to respond to a real-world incident when it deployed to lower Manhattan after the Sept. 11, 2001, tenorist attacks.

"That's all we thought our mission would be-responding to something," says Nunziato, who has been on the team since it formed.

But once 9/11 proved the enemy's willingness to attack, the CST mission evolved. Officials began contemplating the terrorists' next target and deployed teams to serve on standby at high-profile events where an attack seemed most likely.

The New York team is now on hand at everything from NASCAR races to the opening of the U.N. General Assembly. Its presence at Times Square on New Year's Eve has become as traditional as me countdown of a year's final seconds.

It also responds to emergencies, such as the discovery of a pipe bomb at a shopping mall in Ithaca.

Around their headquarters at Stratton Air National Guard Base in Scotia, N.Y, near Schenectady, CST members enjoy the mission's pace and variety.

Staff Sgt. Brendan Dunfee, 33, was an accountant. "There's a lot of monotony in that," he says.

Tech Sgt. Brian Gifford, 30, one of three team members from the flying service, joined the team last month. He left a job with GE that offered good pay and good benefits.

"Boring," he says.

Not here. A new team member, who will most likely join the survey section, undergoes a rigorous training schedule right off the bat.

"When you hire a guy, you're not going to see him for 18 months," Cooper says.

Initial training includes the military's class for chemical operations, followed by a technical class in the types of materials used in weapons, what they do and how to use the equipment that detects them.

That's followed by the Civilian Services Support Course, which teaches the soldiers and airmen the language and methods of the civilian first responders, such as police or firemen, with whom they will be working at any WMD event.

Lunny says the initial training is like "drinking from a fire hose."

Because a lot of material must be absorbed quickly, team members give themselves credit for grasping the lessons.

"The box of rocks need not apply," says Capt. Pete Mehling, 33, the survey-team leader.

Even the commander isn't immune. He joined the team in August 2002 and "went to school, to school, to school," Cooper says. "My first year here, I was gone 270 days."

The training never ends, however.

"Every time we get an upgrade on equipment," Nunziato says, "there's training that has to go along with that."

And these folks have to be proficient on the equipment of other agencies. For a couple days last month, survey-section members were learning to operate new detection and identification equipment acquired by the New York State Police, "so when we come on the scene, we'll be familiar with it," explains Sgt. Bryan Sommers, 40.

That interaction with other agencies is important and ongoing.

"Every time we respond, it's not going to be just us on the ground," says Maj. April Critelli, 44, a survey-team member and a physician's assistant who was training with the state troopers last month. "What's invisible to a lot of people is, this is the day to day stuff that we do. We see these guys. They know what our strengths are. We know what their strengths are."

If CST members are not training with other agencies or being trained by them, they are the ones doing the teaching.

Capt. Doug Baker, 47, who is part of the two-man analysis team that identifies substances at the scene from a portable laboratory, teaches classes on hazardous materials to local fire and police departments, the state police and odiers.

"There's never any down time around here," he says.

In fact, each day begins with some strenuous physical training.

"It's not a job for someone who's not physically fit," says Mehling, who was a field artilleryman in the active-component.

The minimum Army Physical Fitness Test score for the team is 250, well above the service minimum of 180, he says. The team's average, however, is closer to 280.

One reason for the fitness requirement is the A-level protective suit worn at the site of an event. It is confining, hot, and, along with the self-contained breathing gear, heavy. With the stress of a real-world event, an unfit person could quickly tire, which would be extremely dangerous.

"You might have to throw your buddy over your shoulder and cany him out of there," says Lunny.

Cooper also has made promotion from within a standard.

"Almost every person on this team has served in two or three positions," he says.

Sgt. 1st Class Noel Fredericks, 27, recently left the survey team to be the communications team chief. When he arrives on scene in his new role, he says, "I know from my prior experience where there might be communications shortfalls."

Cooper has assembled a team of bright, fit and mature soldiers and airmen. The average age is 36.

There is a touch of elitism in the team, and Cooper does nothing to diminish that. In fact, he fosters it.

"There's no other dedicated force that does just this," he says.

That approach has developed pride and loyalty that keeps people on the team against all common sense.

Master Sgt. Mike Silver, 41, a team member for more than six years, works in the lab with Baker. He was a union electrician before joining the Guard.

"I'd have no reason to stay if I was looking at my career," he says.

But he stays for the same reason others say they do. The team offers a sense of fulfillment and a feeling of camaraderie.

Sgt. 1st Class Jason Williamson, 31, a team member for six years, says, "It's like your second family. We all trust each other."

Fredericks knows his ability to handle so much communications gear would bring him a salary close to six figures in the civilian world. But he's staying put.

"I enjoy my job," he says. "There's no equivalent to having the closeness of being on a small team with people you like doing a job you like."

Cooper said none of his team has jumped ship for the lure of the private sector.

"It's not that they haven't had offers. It's not that they couldn't make more money," he says. "They like what they do. It has meaning and purpose."

Even the state's adjutant general is unconcerned that the skilled members of his well-trained team might bolt for greener pastures.

"A lot of people ask me that question," says Maj. Gen. Joseph Taluto.

He says the military culture and the sense of duty keep them in uniform. Service to country, he says, transcends some material things.

"These are dedicated young men and women," he says. "What an asset. What a terrific asset."

© 2008 National Guard Association of the United States Provided by ProQuest LLC. All Rights Reserved.