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Stories

All who served in SAC have stories to tell and I've recently had several guys share theirs with me. They were so fascinating that it seemed natural to devote a section to them. Your submissions are invited. Your submission gives us the right to publish the story on the Strategic-Air-Command.com Internet site and otherwise. We reserve the right to correct grammar and spelling mistakes and rewrite for clarity, but we will not change the content. We will add headlines and, in some case, an introduction. We will most certainly give you credit for the story. If you have no objection, we'll include your email address.

From 1971 - 72 I was assigned to McCoy AFB located in the beautiful city of Orlando, Florida. McCoy was a SAC base with B-52 Bombers and KC-135 Tankers. At the time of my stay most of the 52s and personnel were T.D.Y. to Guam for bombing missions over North Vietnam. McCoy was a great duty assignment. I have plenty of memories of my time at McCoy including a couple of airliner highjackings: One hijacking involved a copilot getting shot by his captors and dumped out the window, while the FBI was shooting the tires off during takeoff.
Fire at McCoy
     Of all the Incidents the fire department was involved with, there is one I can still close my eyes and picture perfectly in my mind. It was getting close to lunch time and everybody started milling around the fire station chow hall. I had KP that meal and was setting the tables for the cook. The klaxon horn went off indicating there was an in flight emergency. A regular bell was used when it was a structural emergency. The dispatcher's voice came over the speaker informing us that we had a B-52 Heavy with an indicator light showing fire in one engine and that there were seven souls on board. The dispatcher went on to say that it had just taken off minutes before fully fueled with 44,000 gallons of JP-4. I was fairly new to being a fireman and not that long out of fire fighting tech school, but had been around long enough to know those indicator lights, whether for locked landing gear or engine fires were quite common and seldom meant there was an actual problem, other than the indicator light. The routine was we go to our assigned rigs, everybody jumps into their bunker pants and puts on their silver turnout jackets. The hand linemen finish up with Scott air packs, hoods, and gloves; the driver and crew chief leave their hoods off for now. All rigs respond out to their preassigned spots on the taxi ways along the full length of the runway, wait for the Aircraft to land, and when it passes your location you pull in behind and follow it down the runway. The pilot would give a thumbs up, the dispatcher would clear us, we go back to finishing our meal, polishing brass, or hiding away from the station captain's eyes. Day after day as easy as that, but not today!
      The McCoy Air Force Base fire dept. consisted of five first line manned crash rigs an O11A, O11B, two comparatively newer P2s, an O6 which was basically a huge carbon dioxide extinguisher with a long boom applicator, and a tractor trailer runway foamer. The cross maned structural equipment was a new P-8 and an older 750 G.P.M. pumper. Today I drew the short straw, and my assignment was driver of the 011A crash rig. The O11A was the oldest crash rig we had and was actually a reserve unit being used while a newer O11B was receiving maintenance. This crash rig had two roof mounted foam turrets that were controlled from the driver or crew chief position with two side by side pistol grips inside the cab. The pump was driven by a separately mounted aircraft engine which allowed us to use the main motor to maneuver with while pumping to the turrets. The rig was originally designed to carry protein foam, but we had just weeks earlier converted over to the new Light Water AFFF foam, and had been training with both types. The O11A had a 1000 gallon water tank and a 200-gallon foam bag inside the tank. You had to fill the tank halfway with water so the bag would float, then fill the foam bag with Light Water, then top off with the second 500 gallons of water. If the foam was filled first, the bag would rip from the weight. I know this fact from personal experience. The worst part for me originally with this rig was driving. Going back and forth on a flight line was OK but driving through city streets rounding off gears, double and triple clutching was a real pain but eventually I could drive it as good as most.
      We took up our position mid-runway, I can remember arriving and starting up the pump engine to make sure it was warm and ready. I took a look up and down the runways noting that most everybody was in position. We could see it now, it was just short of the runway on approach, and our crew chief commented that it didn't look lined up right. It was close now right over a housing area across a road next to the end of the runway. It was close up it seemed close enough to touch. It just hovered there for a second, then it rolled pointing one of its enormous wings directly to the ground. Then went in, right into the housing area. I heard later one of the crewmen used his ejection seat but punched straight into the ground. I have trained for a number of years now with practice pit fires that can be fairly impressive especially at night. In these pit fires we used any where from 100 to maybe the most 500 gallons of contaminated JP-4. This B52 had taken off minutes before with a full fuel load of about 40,000 gallons. Shit! I think we all said it at the same time, probably was repeated in all the rigs lined up that day. I think every ounce of fuel went up that second, covering a two-block housing area. The first thing I thought was nukes or at least high explosives but it was just fuel. Next thing I know crew chief was yelling, "GO!" So I went.
      The normal way of the base was out the main gate. I don't think any of the crash rigs had ever been any where but the flight line. Today we were going straight down the runway to the perimeter fence. I don't know who was first, but there was a hole cut in the fence when we arrived. This rig was by no means the perfect off road vehicle and I wasn't sure it would get over the bump between the fence and the off base road, but it did. I don't remember names of streets anymore and wasn't worried about it then. We knew where we were going, the problem was as we got close it looked like a war zone, debris everywhere. There was no real aircraft left to set up on, like we trained to do. Just pieces of all sizes and fire everywhere, car fires, several house fires, tree fires, fence fires, and fuel fires. We weren't sure where to start so we just worked ourselves to the main fire we could see. I can remember having to drive down the sidewalks taking out several mailboxes with the front bumper. Got to the main part of the fire and let loose with the turrets. The plane went down in the only vacant lot in the whole housing area, I've wondered if the pilot managed to do that or if it just happened. The only recognizable part of the aircraft other than landing gear in the middle of a living room, was the tail section. We removed the tail gunner, he was the only crewman I saw that was still in one piece. He was burnt crisp I remember his sun glasses were still on his head. The big flames seemed to go out pretty quickly there were a couple of other crash rigs that made it up close enough to apply foam to the fire. By now the Orlando florida crews were showing up and the focus had turned to the structure fires and victims. I just then noticed all the radio traffic. I don't remember a word being said since our initial dispatch, I wonder if my crew chief had been listening.
      We then focused our attention to extinguishing spot fires, and assisting the Orlando crews mop up the house fires. The rest of the day was spent placing our rigs back in service so the military flights could resume at McCoy. Seven B-52 crew members died instantly that day, and one 10 year old boy died three days later from burns he had received . It was a very somber time at McCoy Air Force Base after the crash, and it was still fresh on everyone's mind when I left for Ubon Thailand a month later. As tragic as it was it has always amazed me more people weren't hurt or killed that day.

HOT WIRING A B-47 by C. O. Smith ex-B-47 Nav-Bomb
     I suppose that all of us who flew as B-47 crewmembers have our memorable experiences. I flew as a Nav-Bomb on B-47’s with the 310th Bomb Wing, 380th Bomb Squadron (M/Jet) out of Smoky Hill AFB (later Schilling) in the mid 50’s.
            On my 28^th birthday (11/08/54) we had just completed a relatively routine (sunline, 2 RBSs, refueling, etc. mission) except that my A/C was undergoing a check ride and we were carrying an Instructor Pilot as co-pilot. To set the stage, for those of you who never flew out of SHAFB, the runway ran roughly north /south (36/18). From the southern end of the runway the ground rose gently towards the north into a 300 or 400 foot hill, so that an approach on runway 18 was a slight down hill run following the contour of the hill. (I believe that later this hill was lowered).
     As we readied for landing, the IP indicated that he would take control of the a/c and make a rear seat landing on runway 18 (a north to south landing).   Darkness was approaching as it was early November and the time was about 1830 local. As the navigator, I was completing my landing checklist, gathering up my navigation kit and preparing for an uneventful landing when I heard the IP say “S---“ and I felt the engines “spooling up” and the a/c accelerating. Then there was a loud scraping noise under the N/B compartment, a sudden, instantaneous, momentary deceleration (similar to an arrested landing on an aircraft carrier - I’ve done that too - except that it was only for an instant). We continued what seemed like a normal “go around” and the a/c seemed to be responding normally. The A/C commander made a front seat landing, we followed the “Follow Me “ jeep to the landing area, and disembarked the a/c. We discovered (with our flashlights for it was about 1900 local) that there was a long 2 inch diameter wire wrapped around the forward main gear and that the wire trailed off along the right back of the a/c for as far as we could see in the dark.
       We then proceeded to debriefing, and were all queried about what we had heard of seen. The A/C and the IP were then invited in for a special debrief. As a navigator buried in the “hole” of a B-47E, I could not see or hear much so I was allowed to proceed to the belated birthday party that my fiancée had waiting for me. Apparently, what happened was, we hit the main power line feeding several smaller communities west of Salina and brought some of it home with us. We were fortunate in several respects: (1) We were making a drag chute assisted landing; therefore, the engines were at 60% instead of the 50% used when making a no drag chute landing. (Those J47’s had a God awful “spool up” time from 50%). (2) The IP realized that we were low and had initiated a “go around “ and we were accelerating prior to hitting the power line. As I remember it, the B-47 landed about 5 knots above stall speed so that any deceleration may have been disastrous at that point in the landing cycle. And (3) We did not hit the line straight on. Apparently we caught it with the chin of the a/c and it scraped along the bottom across the radome and became lodged in the forward landing gear doors. On the left side, the wire broke short and wrapped around the fwd main. On the right side approximately 400 feet of wire was trailing behind the a/c and it fouled neither the brake chute nor the drag chute. Had we hit it head on, the wire may well have sliced into the N/B compartment and caused severe damage to the aircraft and me.
      I do not remember or never knew what action, if any was taken against the IP. Evidently the damage to the a/c was minimal because that is the aircraft in which I flew my final B-47 flight/mission ( a/c #52-101) on 5 August 1955 before leaving the USAF. My future father-in-law, MSGT J. J. Bush, was the 380^th Line Chief at the time, and supplied me with most of my information. He also showed me the coil of wire that had been removed from the a/c.

Premature Shutdown by Peter J. Seberger, Maj. USAF Ret. sebergerfarm@alltel.net .
Your story in the web site reminded me of one of my "most embarassing moments" It was 1966, I think, and my crew was landing at Carswell after a long training mission in a B-52F. Time was about 0200 local, and we were the last plane out for the wing that night. During the flight we had lost one of the inboard engine driven alternators, so after landing the AC decided to deviate from the checklist and shut down the inboard engines instead of the outboards. That way we could keep two alternators on line while taxiing in. I was the copilot in the seat, and one of the wing's other copilots was also on the flight and reading the after landing checklist from the IP seat on interphone. Per the checklist, he read "close fuel valves 1 and 4" and this I did out of habit. Of course, these valves fed the outboard engines, so they all flamed out after a few seconds, and we were left with battery power and not much else. Fortunately the AC got the plane stopped. We had already been cleared to ground frequency and been told to taxi to our parking spot, so the lack of radio contact did not alert the base facilities. Likewise the Command Post had been notified we were on the ground.My AC was livid, of course, and I got one monstrous chewing out while we waited. It seemed like hours before the maintenance teams got to checking out our whereabouts, and finally one lone bread truck showed up, called for an air and power cart, and we got going again. I doubt that my old AC ever forgot the incident.

Welcome to SAC by James Garland - James.Garland@insLogic.com
In March 1960, after finishing Ground Power tech school at Chanute AFB, I was assigned to the 340th Bomb Wing, 340th FMS at Whiteman AFB Missouri. I was met and taken to my barracks by an NCO from the AGE shop (a SSgt Robinette, I think). I arrived on a Sunday afternoon and was told to just "cool it" until Monday morning when I would start clearing in on the base. So, knowing no one, fresh from an ATC base, shaved head, barely 19 years old and green as a gourd, I walked around the base for the afternoon, found the chow hall and base theater. I rack-out about 11pm and was sound asleep at 3:30 A.M. Then a klaxon horn over my room door went off and absolutely scared me to death. I jumped up, went into the hall and got my ass run over by guys flying out the door headed to their shops. Nobody would stop to tell me what was going on but it was a madhouse! I went outside and heard all of the jet engines on the B-47's and the engines on the KC-97's fire, the alert crews Ford station wagons speeding to the flight line, all those klaxon's honking, people running and then the thought hit me. "ARE WE AT WAR?" I don't know if I have ever been that scared. I must have stood in that spot for 30 minutes, expecting to be hit in the top of the head by a nuke at any second. I finally went back into the barracks to the dayroom and asked the barracks chief how long he thought it would be before we were vaporized and he fell in the floor laughing. I didn't think I would ever live that down.

How to Kill a Buff by Peter J. Seberger, Maj. USAF Ret. sebergerfarm@alltel.net .
One of my "most embarrasing moments." It was 1966, I think, and my crew was landing at Carswell after a long training mission in a B-52F. Time was about 0200 local, and we were the last plane out for the wing that night. During the flight we had lost one of the inboard engine driven alternators so after landing the AC decided to deviate from the checklist and shut down the inboard engines instead of the outboards. That way we could keep two alternators on line while taxiing in. I was the copilot in the seat, and one of the wing's other copilots was also on the flight and reading the after landing checklist from the IP seat on interphone. Per the checklist, he read "close fuel valves 1 and 4" and this I did out of habit. Of course, these valves fed the outboard engines, so they all flamed out after a few seconds, and we were left with battery power and not much else. Fortunately the AC got the plane stopped. We had already been cleared to ground frequency and been told to taxi to our parking spot, so the lack of radio contact did not alert the base facilities. Likewise the Command Post had been notified we were on the ground. My AC was livid, of course, and I got one monstrous chewing out while we waited. It seemed like hours before the maintenance teams got to checking out our whereabouts, and finally one lone bread truck showed up, called for an air and power cart, and we got going again. I doubt that my old AC ever forgot the incident.

Hot Wiring a B-47 by C. O. Smith ex-B-47 Nav-Bomb
     I suppose that all of us who flew as B-47 crewmembers have our memorable experiences. I flew as a Nav-Bomb on B-47’s with the 310th Bomb Wing, 380th Bomb Squadron (M/Jet) out of Smoky Hill AFB (later Schilling) in the mid 50’s. On my 28th birthday (11/08/54) we had just completed a relatively routine (sunline, 2 RBSs, refueling, etc. mission) except that my A/C was undergoing a check ride and we were carrying an Instructor Pilot as co-pilot.
    To set the stage, for those of you who never flew out of SHAFB, the runway ran roughly north /south (36/18). From the southern end of the runway the ground rose gently towards the north into a 300 or 400 foot hill, so that an approach on runway 18 was a slight down hill run following the contour of the hill. (I believe that later this hill was lowered).
     As we readied for landing, the IP indicated that he would take control of the a/c and make a rear seat landing on runway 18
(a north to south landing). Darkness was approaching as it was early November and the time was about 1830 local. As the navigator, I was completing my landing checklist, gathering up my navigation kit and preparing for an uneventful landing when I heard the IP say “S- - - “ and I felt the engines “spooling up” and the a/c accelerating. Then there was a loud scraping noise under the N/B compartment, a sudden, instantaneous, momentary deceleration (similar to an arrested landing on an aircraft carrier- I’ve done that too - except that it was only for an instant). We continued what seemed like a normal “go around” and the a/c seemed to be responding normally. The A/C commander made a front seat landing, we followed the “Follow Me “ jeep to the landing area, and disembarked the a/c. We discovered (with our flashlights for it was about 1900 local) that there was a long 2 inch diameter wire wrapped around the forward main gear and that the wire trailed off along the right back of the a/c for as far as we could see in the dark.
     We then proceeded to debriefing, and were all queried about what we had heard of seen. The A/C and the IP were then invited in for a special debrief. As a navigator buried in the “hole” of a B-47E, I could not see or hear much so I was allowed to proceed to the belated birthday party that my fiancée had waiting for me. Apparently, what happened was, we hit the main power line feeding several smaller communities west of Salina and brought some of it home with us. We were fortunate in several respects:
(1) We were making a drag chute assisted landing; therefore, the engines were at 60% instead of the 50% used when making a no drag chute landing. (Those J47’s had a God awful “spool up” time from 50%). (1) The IP realized that we were low and had initiated a “go around “ and we were accelerating prior to hitting the power line. As I remember it, the B-47 landed about 5 knots above stall speed so that any deceleration may have been disastrous at that point in the landing cycle. And (3) We did not hit the line straight on. Apparently we caught it with the chin of the a/c and it scraped along the bottom across the radome and became lodged in the forward landing gear doors. On the left side, the wire broke short and wrapped around the fwd main. On the right side approximately 400 feet of wire was trailing behind the a/c and it fouled neither the brake chute nor the drag chute. Had we hit it head on, the wire may well have sliced into the N/B compartment and caused severe damage to the aircraft and me.
I do not remember or never knew what action, if any was taken against the IP. Evidently the damage to the a/c was minimal because that is the aircraft in which I flew my final B-47 flight/mission ( a/c #52-101) on 5 August 1955 before leaving the USAF. My future father-in-law, MSGT J. J. Bush, was the 380th Line Chief at the time, and supplied me with most of my information. He also showed me the coil of wire that had been removed from the a/c.

SAC Brats were there too. by Rhea (Ray) Cooke, bcooke1@GTE.Net
     I feel like I was in SAC for 21 years, from age zero. My family was at Dyess, Maxwell, March, Offutt and Andersen. My stepfather, George Jennings, was a B-29 pilot in WWII, a B-47 pilot in the 50's and was the Base Information Officer at Offutt during the Cuban Missile Crises and was SAC Information Officer at Andersen at the start of Arc Light. In the 65-67 period he regularly flew the last RB-47 out of Guam and often accompanied the B-52's to get mission photos. We lived history and it made me and my contemporaries better people.
     We teenagers on Guam in 1966 built those revetments on the flight line as B-52's came and went. Bombs were loaded within fifty feet of where we worked. We watched U-2's come and go too. I remember one floating down right in front of us and using only about twenty feet of runway.
     If you knew Guam in the 60s, you know the Air Force and Navy kids attended the same high school and/or the College of Guam. There were also many Civil Service families there at that time. I met my wife there. Her dad, Curtis Gibson, worked in the SAC Command Post. In December of 1999, Becky and I decided to try to locate as many of our old "teenager" friends as we could from the Guam days. We expected to locate a half dozen but wound up with 244 people located in six months. One hundred thirty of us met for a reunion in Phoenix in the summer of 2000. It was great. We are all still teenagers; we just have PhD's now. Another thing hasn't changed; the Navy guys still don't like the Air Force guys.
     I recommend that anyone looking for old friends join the Air Force Association and use its membership lists. Also www.Military-Brats.com has over 57,000 listings. If you are looking for families on Guam in the 62-72 period I will be happy to send you our list.

NEW
History of LInebacker II, Vietnam Combat Operations
by Terry Horstead

Peace is our Profession, but What's our Hobby? by Bob Taylor. Sgt. USAF Ret.
     One day while refurbishing Charlie site (394th SMS; Vandenberg AFB), we received a visit from CINCSAC himself and several NATO generals. While my partner took the generals on a tour of the facility, CINCSAC stayed in the control center with me. On the blast doors was the SAC shield with the motto--"Peace is our Profession". One of the refurbishment team members had created a banner to place under the shield. It read "War is just a hobby" in big bold letters. CINCSAC noticed the addition to the motto and mentioned it to me. I offered to remove the banner thinking that my entire Air Force career, which was in its infancy, had just been shot out the launch duct. CINCSAC said, "Oh no----Leave it there. I like it!!!"
     After the visitors left, my supervisor came to the control center. He asked if the banner was up while CINCSAC was there. I informed him that it was. I also informed him that CINCSAC noticed it and refused to have it removed because he liked it. The team member that created the banner also asked about CINCSAC's reaction to it as he also thought his career had just been shortened. I reassured him it was one of CINCSAC's highlights of the tour in addition to the bicentennial star on the launcher door. We all breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God for our good fortune.
Broken Arrow by Robert E. Frank, Jr.
    I served in the 68th CDS and SPS from October 1964 to 11 JUN 1968. I served in C Flt, D Flt, and K-9 Flt. I was TDY to Goose, AB CAN for 43 days from AUG 1965 to OCT 1965 while the runway at SJAFB was under reconstruction. My DD Form 214 says 13 days. That leads me to suspect that the error in your information concerning the time frame of that deployment probably came from an identical error in the official records. I'm not sure what the exact dates of that deployment were but I suspect that the answer may lie in the morgue of the Goldsboro newspaper. The base paper may have something too if they have any copies from that long ago.
     You may be interested to learn that two Broken Arrow events occurred during the time I was stationed there. The first occurred on base and mostly stayed out of the news. The second became the subject of at least one book and a feature article in Life Magazine.
     In OCT or NOV 1964, an alert B-52 collided with a fire truck while responding to a COCO alert. The fire truck was stopped in the taxiway gap while one of the firemen was bumming a cigarette from the taxiway gap boundary guard.
I was off duty when the accident occurred. I was called to duty to secure the perimeter until the damaged aircraft and fire vehicle could be cleared from the taxiway and taxiway gap. I saw the damage. I don't know whether there
were any casualties. The second event occurred over the Mediterranean Sea near the Spanish coast. A B-52 assigned to the 68 BW burned up in flight while engaged in an in-flight refueling operation. The B-52 was returning from a CHROME DOME flight and was loaded with four nuclear devices. Most of the crew members were killed including an acquaintance of mine. 3 of the 4 nucs separated from the aircraft. Navy divers recovered all but one of these devices. It still lies at the
bottom of the Mediterranean in a known but inaccessible area of steep underwater mountains. I guarded the upload of those weapons and served as an acolyte at the memorial service for one of the crew members. He was a fellow Episcopalian.
    The book concerning this incident is out of print now but it may be available from interlibrary loan. The title is "One of Our H-Bombs is Missing." The author was Flora Lewis.
     There was also a story floating around the base to the effect that another nuc had been lost in the muck under the Neuse River near the point where the drainage ditch from the end of the runway fed the Neuse. I don't know whether that one was true or not.
Added via 2nd email
    I just did a web search IN AOL using the key word "chrome dome" for the three incidents I mentioned in my previous message. I found two relevant web sites.The first was a site put up by Sandia Corporation recounting their involvement in the Palomares incident. The second was more useful though lacking in human interest. The link is http://www.milnet.com/milnet/cdiart.htm (broken link) This site gave information concerning two of these incidents. They were the loss of a weapon at Goldsboro, NC on 24 JAN 1961 and the Palomares incident on 17 JAN 1966.
    I suspect that the collision between a B-52 and a fire vehicle was omitted because that incident does meet all of the criteria for a BROKEN ARROW. Based on those criteria, I suspect that this incident may have been downgraded to a BENT SPEAR.
Robert E. Frank, Jr. 2028 Oak Ave SE; Massillon OH 44646 wayfarerrf@aol.com
Doctor Strangelove by Vince Young Patiwgn@juno.com
Hi. I'm Vince Young, an old SAC rat. I flew B-47's at Lake Charles and B-52's at Fairchild and Dyess. I was at Dyess when the movie came out. It was banned at SAC bases, so we all had to sneak down town to see it. When the base photographer wanted a picture of me, I borrowed a cowboy hat and jumped on a dummy 500 pounder in the briefing room. He took the picture but the brass was not amused! Paranoia was rampant; couldn't go down to O' Club for a drink without some suckass taking down your name. I resigned that same year and went to work for an airline
Best wishes,   Vince
An Unforgettable Open House by Floyd Cox fcox@wiktel.com
    Grand Forks AFB, ND always had it's open house for the local residents on a different day than other SAC bases due to the farming communities. On the normal day, the farmers were always over loaded with farm work. So, we were different. Seems Sac forgot it.
     The day had progressed normally. The flightline and static display areas were over run with civilians. It was hard to move. My alert flight crew had drawn the duty of answering questions about the B-52. The alert crew chiefs were on the ramp to visit our wives and girl friends. I had just found my wife when the radio beeped, followed by loud klaxon. Needless
to say, we hurried to the truck and headed across the runway to the alert ramp to our planes. Just as we went across the runway, a KC-135 landed. It just missed our truck. The visitors are all wondering what is happening. They're seeing all these people running around and get really scared when the Security Police show up to escort thousands of people
from the base.
    Needless to say, many managed to see B-52s and KC-135s enveloped in black smoke as they fired the cartridges for engine start. Must have given them a little fright when those planes started moving out of the alert area for an elephant walk as we called it. I believe the correct term was a "cocoa". As the planes taxied back into the alert area for recovery, we learned the SAC IG had landed. We were in an ORI.
     SAC had forgotten the day was our neighbors day. For several days around Grand Forks was heard how nice the base was to show how we respond to an alert. I wonder what propaganda artist thought that one up?
Sleeping Through an ORI by Lt. Col. peter Katsufrakis | Kauai1107@aol.com.
     In June 1985, I was assigned to the 60th Bomb Squadron, 43rd Strategic Wing at Anderson AFB, Guam. I had just earned the position of Aircraft Commander and was sitting in the left seat of a whooping big B-52G. In my new role, I was soon faced with my first Operational Readiness Inspection (ORI).
     The wing had sixteen Buffs on ground alert, each nestled gently in its own revetment. The birds were generated to alert status by loading them with nuclear weapons, flares, chaff, ammo and food and having the crew aboard. They were ready to go. A bunch of TDY tankers from the Pacific Island Task Force were parked in our normal staging area, so we had to split up the alert force. Four Buffs remained in their normal position on the south side of the staging area. The other aircraft were on the North side of the field. I had drawn slot fourteen. The planes were moved from their revetments and parked close to the two runways. The alert parking area and taxiways were full of B-52Gs loaded with nuclear weapons. Everywhere I looked it was wall-to-wall Buffs.
     We had been on duty for 48 hours. When we reported in, we studied our Emergency War Plan Orders, then there were some problems with the plane, then reshuffling of position - just one thing after another. The entire crew was tired and finding it difficult to stay awake. Finally the Uke (a very large tractor called a Euclid by its manufacturer) towed us from the North ramp to the South ramp and backed us into the parking spot, and we were left to wait for the inevitable klaxon and whatever fate the SAC Inspector General had planned for us. Of course, nothing went according to plan, and no klaxon occurred, not even a peep on the radio. It was as if the whole world had stopped.
      In what seemed like only a blink of the eye, I discovered that my chin was resting on my chest and immediately realized that I had fallen asleep. I looked over at the copilot to find him snoring away. I jumped onto the intercom and asked what was going on. Complete silence. The entire crew hand succumbed to the sand man and were sleeping like babies.
       I looked outside. To my complete horror the ramp was empty. All of those Buffs that had been there what seemed like only second before were GONE. We'd obviously slept through the klaxon. Apparently the rest of the wing's airplanes had disappeared for parts unknown and we were still sitting at the end of the runway taking a nap. Then a voice came over the interphone, "Sorry sir, this is the chief, I must have dozed off Oh ^%$# where are all the Buffs?!!!" I said "I have no idea, I was hoping you could tell me." So as members of my crew stretched and yawned, I realized that we had really screwed up. At the very least, we had failed to comply with command and control procedures, which could have caused the wing to fail the ORI. I could picture my squadron commander, ripping my wings from my chest. Surely I would be fired as an aircraft commander and assigned to latrine duty in Thule, Greenland.
       I had really blown it, but kept my cool. I decided to "query command post." So I keyed the mike and casually said "Command Post, Sortie 14 radio check." then waited to see what happened. I hoped that maybe if they thought my radio wasn't working I might be able to save my hide. After a pause, the command post replied, "Sorry for the delay sortie 14, we are having trouble getting the other sorties towed back over to the north side." The other planes had just been shuffled off by tractors. While we slept, a huge rainstorm had come through. We never heard a thing. Just slept through it. Visibility dropped to near zero, so the alert exercise was deemed unsafe and cancelled. The other aircraft had been towed back to their normal parking position and were taken off alert. We had just been near the end of the line. I had really lucked out, but had learned a lesson. I was determined to keep my wings, so ever since then a thermos of strong black coffee has been part of my fight kit

An Embarrassed Buff by George Belanus | gbelanus@1st.net
In the mid-1970's George was a writer assigned to the base newspaper at Carswell AFB, home of the7th Bomb wing.
"At Carswell you had two parallel runways connected by several taxiways, which gave the overall impression of a stepladder lying on the ground. After dark, one side of the individual taxiways was marked by red lights while the other side was marked by green lights. The trick was to turn the plane between the two rows of different-colored lights and taxi to the operating runway. This pilot must have been excited or something, because he managed to turn short of the taxiway he was attempting to traverse. The result was that he put a fully-loaded B-52D axle deep in the grass and mud that separated the runways where there were not any taxiways. Major Deryl Duncan, was the commanding officer of the Information Office which ran the base paper and the public relations office. He gave us our orders. No information was to be let out from any local SAC bases on what was going on at the base regarding the entire situation. If any radio stations or newspapers called asking for information, we were to read them a prepared, typewritten statement which declined comment and referred them to the office of information at the Pentagon. ``And you will not, repeat WILL NOT tell them anything about that B-52 stuck in the mud.''

Can You Outrun a Nuclear Missile?  A short story by H. Michael Sweeney
This is one of the war stories from Tom Clinard's Many more. Check them out.
    One person who I will never forget was a certain Airman whose name is unimportant, but we will call him Gomer for the purpose. Gomer was from the Ozarks, and not known for being terribly bright. A big, lumbering oaf of a guy, he was slow as molasses both in body and in mind. Someone once bet him one dollar he could not eat one dozen doughnuts in one minute. He won that bet, but when he was done, his mouth was bleeding from the attempt.
    I remember one day the Hound Dog was hung on the Table and ready to be tested. It was a nice, hot summer day in North Dakota. Gomer was arranging for a jet fuel delivery to the test cell. I think we kept about 2,000 gallons in the cell tank, and the fuel truck had to be pretty good sized for the job. The truck pulled up and the driver ran the hose over, and locked it down.   The hose has a safety valve which is supposed to shut down the truck's pumps when the tank is full or if anything goes wrong. Things would go wrong. Unfortunately, very nearby was a diesel operated generator, which was always in operation when the test cell was up and running. For reasons unknown, when the tank was full, the valve did not shut down the truck. Instead, full began spraying from the nozzle in a very fast and furious funnel-shaped pattern all about the area.
   The truck operator and Gomer were immediately doused with fuel. Worse, the spray was engulfing the power generator. Both the driver and Gomer realized at once that this was not a good thing. The driver tried to shut down the truck's pumps manually, but fell in the pooled fuel. He fell because Gomer was running past him, bumping him and knocking him to his feet. The driver took Gomer's cue and ran after him. Gomer may not have gotten the best grades in school, but he had calculated his best move. Seconds later, there was the first fireball as the misted jet fuel ignited on the hot generator. The driver ran about 100 yards and dove into a ditch at the side of the road when the fuel cell tank blew into a massive fireball number two. Gomer had already crossed that road. He hadn't stopped, even to take cover from the blast. Gomer kept running. He ran roughly 100 more yards until he came to the parking lot for the main facilities at the flight line. Across this he ran some 50 more yards, and then past the first cluster of buildings of a like distance. Another 100 yards to the maintenance hanger, then through it for perhaps 50 more yards. It was then that the third fireball from the trucks fuel tank let go.
    Onto the flight line where the "ready" B-52s were parked. These aircraft were armed with nuclear weapons in case of alert, and were guarded by guards with machine-pistols. At hearing the explosions, of course, they took on an air of concern. When ONE someone seemed to be running away from the direction of the explosions, he caught their attention, too.   As he ran across the 100 yards towards and between two B-52's, several of the guards leveled their weapons at him and shouted at him to "stop, or I'll shoot!" He didn't stop. Fortunately, something about the fear on his face the whole time and a certain uncaring about the threats deterred the guards from making good on it. They didn't shoot. Gomer kept running.
      He ran past the airplanes and across 50 yards to the main runway. Across that and another 50 yards to the parallel return runway. Across that and then many, many hundreds of yards, he ran. He ran until he encountered a bum near the edge of the base boundary. He tried to climb that, but collapsed in the attempt. Seconds later, the guards had him in custody, as suspected terrorist, or worse.
     In the end, he explained his marathon as being based on just one thing. His concern was that that darned Hound Dog that went up in the fireballs was armed with a nuclear bomb. He was afraid the missile's warhead would explode. Too bad no one told him that the missile was not armed, or even that if it were, it would not detonate in any such accident. Too bad he didn't stop to think that even if there was such a danger, he would have had to run better than five miles just to avoid evisceration.
    Were was I? I was off duty that day, at the barracks some three blocks away. I was on the third-story balcony enjoying the sun when I noticed the refueling operation getting underway. Wondering who was working, I retrieved my binoculars. Just as I trained them on and recognized Gomer, the fuel began to spray. Gomer never lived it down. He asked to be transferred, and was. The last I saw of him was him running away past the fuel truck and into the field beyond, distancing himself from the white-hot fear which drove him.

Spy in the Sky Extracted from Alaskan's assault on the Mackinac by Danny K. Shepherd
From the B-47 Stratojet Association web site.
"Early on the morning of 8 May 1954, three RB-47's took off from Fairford, RAFB in Great Britain and flew around Norway to Murmansk. Two of the aircraft returned the way they came, the third, piloted by Capt. Hal Austin, flew south deep into Soviet territory - their objective: to conduct photo intelligence operations against nine different airbases in hopes of isolating Russian long-range bombers. And as an added bonus, possibly detecting for the first time, the operational deployment of Soviet MIG-17 Fresco's. Early into the over flight several MIG-15 Fagot's attempted to identify the intruders as friendly or foe, but because of the RB-47's altitude the 15's were no match for the lofty medium bombers. Just a few minutes later however, before Austin, his Co-Pilot, Carl Holt, and their navigator, Vance Heavilin, knew what hit them, several MIG-17's had engaged them in a hail of cannon fire they likened to hell's fury. They never expected the MIG-17's. The SAC Intel Officers who briefed them prior to departing England knew the possibility existed, but never bothered to tell Austin or his crew. That was the way back then, as it is now, 'the need to know'. The MIG-15's had obviously determined that the SAC bomber was unfriendly. The reconnaissance configured bomber was shelled, ripping a gashing hole in its skin, and tracers continued to flash by on all sides. Austin, calling upon his training as an aircraft commander, miraculously maneuvered his bomber out of harm's way and back to Fairford.
Austin and his crew were the first to receive General Lemay's explanation why he was giving them the DFC vice a Silver Star, "…You've got to explain that to congress and everyone else in Washington so I'll give you guys a couple of DFC's instead!" What Lemay really feared was global exposure of his 'Spy in the Sky' operations and any possible embarrassment the Commander in Chief would suffer should the Soviets be able to confirm their accusations of over flights - acts of aggression

The TB-52 Torpedo Bomber by Robert House | grhouse@compuserve.com
Robert owns Tidewater Military Traders at 124 S. First Colonial Rd., Virginia Beach, VA 23454. (757) 425-2827. This is near the Norfolk Navy Yard, where many aircraft carriers are based. He has a great Email newsletter. Email him to sign up for it. This story is from a past issue.
"You hear a lot of interesting stories in a militaria shop, here's one that might or might not be an aviation urban legend:
USAF B-52 bombers used to have this sort of tertiary mission of ocean surveillance, long range scouting during long missions. The story goes that Buff D crew out of Carswell in early 80s was tasked to go find a Norfolk based carrier off the east coast. Apparently the carrier wasn't told they were being looked for to see how good their AEW was. Anyhow, the Buff finds it but is picked up on radar and identified as a "friendly" by the EW battle group's air search radar. Buff crew is bored and decides to play, heads for the waves and decides to play TB-52 Torpedo Bomber. They come honking in on a classic 90-degree torpedo run. Seeing no traffic in the pattern, they open the bomb doors and pull up right over the ship just clearing the bridge antenna. Then decided to circle around and shoot an approach. They drop the landing gear and flaps, turn on the landing lights and start a mock approach. As they close to about a quarter mile or so they see the panicked swabs getting ready to start pushing F2Hs and ADs over the side of the boat! Anyway, they shoot the flight deck, waggle wings and depart - leaving a lasting impression to all. I've often heard that KC-10s making fighter drags out to carriers were known to drop down and make an approach too. Navy did not mind them, as when the 10 showed up overhead, it had enough gas to hang around for awhile and let all and sundry come up to get practice refuelings."
Footnote: Lt. Col. Peter J. Katsufrakis flies Buffs for the 5-BW. He sent this picture of a B-52 and the USS Ranger.

The Ghost Forces
"Guess what Country this is.
709,000 regular (active duty) service personnel, 293,000 reserve troops; Eight standing Army divisions; 20 Air Force and Navy air wings with 2,000 combat aircraft; 232 strategic bombers; 13 strategic ballistic missile submarines with 3,114 nuclear warheads
500 ICBMs with 1,950 warheads; Four aircraft carriers, and 121 surface combat ships and submarines, plus all the support bases, shipyards and logistical assets needed to sustain such a naval force.
Is this country Russia? . . . No Red China ? . . . No Great Britain ? . . . Wrong Again USA? . . . Hmmmm, not really
Give up?? Well, don't feel too bad if you are unable to identify this global superpower because this military no longer exists. It has vanished These are the American military forces that have disappeared, been cut, down-sized, scrapped, moth-balled, retired since the 1992 election of Bill Clinton. George W Bush has his work cut out for him....."

Almost an Ace by Marvin Broyhill | marv@strategic-air-command.com
Marv is the author of this website. He served in the 380th Bomb Wing Plattsburgh AFB, NY 1961-64
"Plattsburg was a B-47 base, but was slated to receive B-52s. In September 1962, we were assigned our first one, a full two years earlier than expected. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. The circumstances were so incredible that I saved the SAC Accident Prevention Bulletin. Dated 4 Dec., 1963, [No. SAC-F-SAC Acdt 63-14] it reads: