The
Pentagon likes to keep track of things they buy. Like aircraft.
They like to know the whereabouts of, or whatever happened
to every aircraft they’ve ever owned. Now with the
internet, you can pull up lists of Air Force, Navy and
Army aircraft histories. Joe Baugher’s great website,
http://home.att.net/~jbaugher had me enthralled the
other day, until I ran across the notations of July, 1964.
The numbers tell the stories of all the aircraft the
military has records of. But those records don’t
look like much; when you read through them, they’re
just dry statistics. Numbers, phrases, words; nothing
coherent; nothing memorable; until you get down to
where it says "Narrative".
Then the whole mess gets laid out for you.
Over Death Valley California, there are two North
South refueling 'tracks'. Sections of sky which, when
designated, are set aside for air refueling operations
by the military. The North bound track is flown at
33,000 feet while the South bound track is higher,
at 35,000.
Fighters normally conduct refueling operations as
a four ship; utilization of resource and all that.
As tankers and receivers arrive from different bases,
the receiver Flight Leader orchestrates a rendezvous
between them. He contacts the tanker by radio, maneuvers
the flight to the ‘entry point’ of the
refueling track and coordinats the flight's arrival
there with, and just behind the tanker. He is then
first into the ‘contact ready position’ just
behind and below the tanker. Lead waits there for the
boom operator to then take control of the refueling
and clear the fighter to move forward and take on fuel.
The entire event is outlined in careful detail and
the progressive steps are strictly adhered to by both
tanker and receiver. It’s a three dimensional
arena of five aircraft moving through the sky at 3
or 400 miles and hour and the potential for disaster
is ever present.
We were a flight of four F-104-C’s out of George
Air Force Base that hot day in July, 1964 and although
I was in the front cockpit of a ‘D’ model,
I was not Flight Lead. That responsibility rested with
the IP in the back seat giving me an annual check ride.
So it was that when it happened, I was looking straight
ahead, waiting for the ‘boomer’ to clear
us in to take on fuel.
Rendezvousing with a second tanker on the North track,
2,000 feet below us, 30 miles to the south and coming
toward us, was a flight of four F-105 Thunderchiefs,
apparently having some difficulty finding the tanker.
Perhaps not realizing they were not behind the tanker,
but rather parallel to it, the flight made a right
turn and the flights number three aircraft came in
contact with the tankers engines.
The records I found the other day didn’t look
like much; statistics; numbers, until I got down to
where it says "Narrative"
Type:
Operator:
Registration:
C/n / msn:
First flight:
Crew:
Passengers:
Total:
Collision casualties:
Airplane damage:
Airplane fate:
Location:
Phase:
Nature:
Departure airport:
Destination airport:
Narrative:
|
Boeing KC-135A-BN Stratotanker
United States Air Force
- USAF
60-0340
18115/454
1961
Fatalities: 4 / Occupants: 4
Fatalities: 0 / Occupants: 0
Fatalities: 4 / Occupants: 4
Fatalities: 1
Written
off
Written off (damaged beyond repair)
Death Valley,
CA, USA
En route (ENR)
Military
Moses Lake-Larson
AFB, WA (LRN),USA
Moses Lake-Larson
AFB, WA (LRN), USA
Midair collision during in-flight refueling with Republic F-105D-15-RE Thunderchief
61-0091. Reportedly the tanker's nr. 4 engine struck the cockpit of the F-105D
when beginning a right turn. |
The explosion was a huge ball of fire and black smoke.
It appeared instantly, then hung, unmoving, as we arrived
overhead. Now the sky was filled with aluminum. Seemingly
millions of pieces of aluminum, all descending falling
leaf style towards the valley below, while the fuselage
of the tanker, shorn of wing and tail, arched down
to reach the ground in yet another explosion as the
bladder tanks erupted on impact. The cloud of metal
shimmered in the afternoon sun as we circled down,
vainly searching for chutes. It would take an hour
for all the metal to reach the ground; it would take
even longer for the choppers out of George to reach
the scene. By then night had fallen in an effort to
restore sanity and its natural peace to the desert.
My experience is that military pilots are calloused
against the sentiments which rise so naturally with
the misfortunes of others. Peacetime accidents are
a part of the life. Combat casualties are an accepted
happenstance of the experience. Too many of us have
had the misfortune of experiencing both. As our careers
progressed the calluses grew very thick. But memories
stay with us, and images, and eventually the calluses
relent and we accept how dearly we hold the comrade,
memory, and image.
The records still don’t look like much; until
you get down to where it says "Narrative";
and then all the images come flooding back, and with
them, finally, sentiment for the lives affected by
an afternoon occurrence above Death Valley California,
a long time ago |
