It was still several hours before daybreak and ground support decided we would try to hold off on the over-weight landing until it was light. About 20 minutes into the flight, most of which was at a near idle power setting, Operations suggested I try stuffing my gloves into the air outlet ducts that were accessible. If I had been able to do it, the hot air probably would have burned up the gloves. But I never got that far. When I took my first glove off, I found the yoke already too hot to grip with my bare hand. Fortunately, I had not taken my face piece off. But, even with my face shield in place, my face was still extremely warm. However, thankfully, I was being cooled somewhat and breathing the cool oxygen from my life support system.
I informed the Mobile Control Officer and Squadron Operations about how hot I was feeling. After another 20 minutes, following a discussion with the Supervisor of Flying (SOF), the Flight Surgeon and other consultants, we arrived at the conclusion that it might not be safe, physiologically, to wait another hour or more for a daylight landing. So, even though I still had in excess of 1,000 gallons of fuel, the decision was made to land as soon as possible. Usually the computations of flight speeds for the landing pattern and final approach were computed from the fuel remaining reading and done with little effort by the pilot. On this day, I had a lot of help determining my landing pattern, base leg and final approach speeds. Fortunately, I accomplished a rather smooth landing. During the landing rollout after touchdown, every circuit breaker in the cockpit popped! As soon as I stopped my roll, I opened the canopy. What a relief to feel that cool, early morning Texas air. When my pressure suit was removed, the outsides of my ankles were extremely red. If they weren't considered burns, they were the next thing to it and remained that way for another 10 days. Afterwards, I consumed about a quart of orange juice.
All's well that ends well and I could look forward to my next “exciting” U-2 flight.
Anthony Martinez
Clio, California
Wife: Jeannine
Early Days at Laughlin AFB
I was one of the original members of the 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing (SRW) assigned to the 4025th Strategic Recon Squadron (SRS) recently arrived from Turner AFB, Georgia in June 1957. A month later, the first U-2s that formed the 4028th SRS arrived from The Ranch. The two squadrons parked their aircraft at opposite ends of the ramp. Although we knew most of the pilots of the 4028th, the mission of the U-2 was not discussed openly with us 4025th guys.
The well-known cover story was contained in the official designation of the 4028th Strategic Reconnaissance Weather Squadron. When the 4025th SRS was deactivated in early 1960, some of us had the opportunity to transfer to the 4028th SRS. The fellows who were transferred there with me were Chuck Stratton, Deke Hall, Vic Milam, Bob Schueler, Dave Gammons, and a few others.
My training in ground school and flight phases was supervised by two instructor pilots, Roger Cooper and Bobby Gardner. These two excellent pilots had been with the program from the early days, and they were very helpful in getting me ready to fly the U-2. By May 1960 SAC had established a formal training syllabus for checkout as well as combat ready status. Everyone who flew the aircraft, both staff and crews, were required to undergo the training.
I made my first solo flight in May 1960. It may not seem much of an accomplishment to some folks; however, just flying the traffic pattern, approach and landing were critical, all the more challenging with the instructor pilot in the twin engine chase plane on my wing chewing in my ear to maintain the correct airspeed. Then landing the U-2 was another matter. Crossing the runway threshold, the ground mobile control in the chase vehicle took over and advised me of my height above the runway. The ideal attitude for the airplane was to touch down with the main gear and tail wheel in a two-point attitude. Then the challenge was to keep the wings level as long as possible on center line to stop on the runway. Everyone who checked out in the airplane went through the exact same routine on their first landing.
OL20 Bien Hoa, October 1964 - 4080th SRW compound, hutches on the right.
Maps showing routes of high altitude air sampling.
Aerial view of OL20, 4080th SRW compound at Bien Hoa, October 1964. Hutches are to the left, trailers to the right.
OL20, Bien Hoa, October 1964. Left to right: Capt. Jim Rogers (pilot), Capt Birk (Intel), Capt Ray Lodin (nav), Major Don Webster (pilot).
Thirteen Days Over Cuba
The thirteen days of October 1962 have been chronicled by many writers over the years. I can relate one side of the story that started the evening of October 12, 1962 at Laughlin AFB. Three of our pilots, Steve Heyser, Rudy Anderson, and Gerald McIlmoyle were transported to North Base, Edwards AFB, California, to check out in the Agency (CIA) C model of the U-2. It was equipped with the J-75 engine and its power management during climb was of particular importance. That same evening the Commander in Chief SAC General Thomas Powers arrived in a VC-97 command aircraft with Major General K. K. Compton, Deputy Chief of Staff SAC Operations, and Brigadier General Robert Smith, Deputy Chief of Staff Intelligence. The SAC generals transported our team which consisted of Colonel John DesPortes, 4080th SRW Commander, Lt Col Frank Shipley, Deputy Commander Maintenance, all the maintenance, operations and physiological support team and me as commander of the 4028th squadron to McCoy AFB, Orlando, Florida.
We departed Laughlin AFB in time to arrive at McCoy for the recovery of Major Heyser's flight from Edwards AFB. Upon our arrival General Compton immediately proceeded to the Agency Detachment Command and Operations Center where he informed Lt Col Bill Gregory that, “By order of the President, effectively immediately, the Cuban mission has been turned over to the Strategic Air Command.” Prior to the directive, the Agency had the lead in the Cuban crisis. Our operations staff moved in and occupied the facility with the exception of the Agency Communications Center.
Lt Col Anthony Martinez, OL20 commander, October 1964.
OL20 Bien Hoa, September 1964 - two of our sergeants in the uniform of the day.
We prepared the flight line with the necessary equipment for Major Heyser's arrival. He departed in his Agency U-2 from Edwards AFB at midnight on October 13 and arrived at McCoy at 9:20 a.m. on Saturday morning. He had already made a pass over Cuba and photographed part of the island. As soon as he landed, Heyser was promptly sequestered for the classified debriefing by General Compton and General Smith. Heyser, still in his partial pressure suit, related his observations while the film was downloaded. A USAF T-39 waited to ferry some of the film to the 544th Reconnaissance Technical Group (RTG) at SAC Headquarters, Offutt AFB, Nebraska; the “B” configuration camera film went to National Photographic Intelligence Center (NPIC) in Washington, DC.
The developed photos Heyser took of the western portion of Cuba were on President Kennedy's desk the following morning. For the next thirteen days we received as many as five mission routes on a daily basis from the Joint Reconnaissance Center. The Center was part of the Joint Chief of Staff (JCS) in the Pentagon. The missions were sent to us at McCoy from the SAC RTG with the JCS receiving copies as information. Each mission brought back additional evidence of the military buildup on the island.
The daily mission schedule came to a climax on October 27 when Major Anderson was lost over northeast Cuba near the town of Banes. The thirteen days ended after the shoot down; however, we continued to fly over Cuba for many years even after the blockade ended and the missiles were removed.
OL20 Bien Hoa, October 1964 - Major Roger Herman, pilot with pet monkey.
Cuban Mission from Barksdale AFB, Louisiana
Toward the end of 1962, as the crisis over Cuba was winding down, it became necessary to move the U-2 operations out of McCoy AFB. It was less critical to maintain the detachment at McCoy, and SAC Headquarters elected to relocate us to relieve the congestion in the airspace over southern Florida. Colonel DesPortes appointed me and Lt Col Forest (Whip) Wilson to check out several SAC bases east of the Mississippi River to find a suitable base that could acc
ommodate the Cuban mission. We took a T-33 and over a period of six days surveyed and briefed our requirements at several SAC bases.
We found the most suitable facilities at Barksdale AFB, Louisiana where the Second Bomb Wing was stationed. We were offered a B-47 nose dock with adequate operations office space, a maintenance area as well as rooms for the Physiological Support Division, crew kitchen and operations planning. I was the first operating location (OL) commander at Barksdale. The crews were Capt George Bull, Capt Charles Kern and Capt Joe Hyde.
We flew two or three sorties per week with the three aircraft assigned. It was on one of these sorties that Joe Hyde was lost as he descended from altitude over the Gulf of Mexico south of the Florida panhandle. He had experienced an equipment malfunction. The Barksdale operating location continued for several years as we continued to monitor the island.
Ol-20 Bien Hoa, South Vietnam
Following the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in 1964 the squadron was ordered to deploy three U-2s to Bien Hoa Air Base, South Vietnam. Our compound consisted of three air conditioned trailers which housed the crews and our flight surgeon who was in charge of the physiological support unit with medical facilities and partial pressure suit storage. In addition, a fourth trailer contained our secure communications and flight planning section. Maintenance personnel and non-crew staff were quartered in hooches (tents) on another part of the base. Our entire compound was surrounded with chain link fencing and topped with concertina wire.
My tour was September through November 1964. On Halloween night, October 31, 1964, at about midnight we were awakened by the sounds of mortar fire on the base. The sirens and lights were going off. In the pitch dark night we all grabbed our weapons and scrambled into our sandbagged bunkers adjacent to our trailers. We were welcomed to the bunkers by huge rats and various other crawling critters. The mortar fire continued for another thirty minutes. We could hear explosions coming from the vicinity of the flight line area. A few days before, a DC-130 had arrived with the Lightning Bug reconnaissance drones. Ken McCaslin was the commander of the unit. He and I took our government vehicle and made our way to where our aircraft were parked to assess any damage. In the meantime, the mortars were falling less frequently. Fortunately, we found that none of our aircraft was damaged as our parking areas were a considerable distance from the main flight line. The day before the mortar attack, one of our pilots, Don Webster, had completed his tour and headed into Saigon for his return home. After the mortar attack, Don made the decision to stay at Bien Hoa one more night.
HASP High Altitude Sampling Project
During the years 1957-1965 the 4028th SRS was involved in flying out of several operating locations in support of Armed Forces Special Weapons Project (AFSWP). The locations were Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico and Plattsburg AFB, New York to start the program. Over the years other locations were added: Eielson AFB, Alaska; Anderson AFB, Guam; Ezeiza Airport, Argentina; Howard AFB, Panama; East Sale RAAF Station, Australia; and Mildenhall AFB, United Kingdom. Every Tuesday and Thursday we launched an aircraft on a seven-hour roundtrip flight from the OL to an altitude of 60,000 to 65,000 feet collecting gaseous and particulate samples from USSR nuclear detonations onto special equipment. Each pilot was equipped with a personal dosimeter to measure any radiation encountered during flight. If the flight encountered a “hot cloud”, as indicated by the dosimeter, the aircraft was isolated and decontaminated before downloading the samples.
At some OLs we flew in coordination with the WB-57s of the Weather Service. The WB-57s flew our identical route at an altitude of 30,000 feet. Upon landing we combined our package with theirs and it was all shipped out together. Flying out of Eielson AFB, Alaska, which was typical, we flew north to the geographic North Pole. After departing Point Barrow, we used celestial navigation, as the magnetic variation at those northern latitudes render the magnetic compass unreliable. When summarizing the hazards encountered during the sampling missions in all parts of the world, it is not a stretch of the imagination to state that the flights were conducted over shark-infested waters and uncharted wastelands.
Gerald E. (Jerry) McIlmoyle
Venice Beach, Florida
Low Fuel Warning Light
Night celestial navigation training was another challenge in learning to fly the missions of the U-2. It was exciting to enter the navigation training room managed by Lt. Col. Don Todt. In those days there were no navigation aids in the areas of the world in which the reconnaissance missions were flown.
In some respects we were like Christopher Columbus, venturing into the unknown and using celestial navigation to get us into the sky and back to earth. I was excited about knowing how well I would be able to learn and apply godly navigation directly related to mission accomplishment and my own personal survival. Contemplating flying the U-2 on 3,600 nautical-mile flights without navigation aids really got my attention. I understood that celestial navigation would be critical to successful mission completion.
I felt inspired as I entered the navigation flight planning room. I had dreamed of flying since I was in elementary school. I was learning a navigational device that has not changed much from the days sailors used it more than 600 years ago. Quentin Stokes taught me the fundamental heavenly navigation techniques. I was lucky because “Quent” knew his technology. He included the underlying philosophy of celestial navigation and the technique of a good instructor.
Quent was, and still is, a happy, easygoing guy with a ready, wry grin. I sometimes had to give him my “double take” to determine whether he was telling me something factual or if he was pulling my leg. In any case, Quent-the-Expert, taught me well, from basics through sophisticated application of the navigational system. Quent went the extra mile with me, too. He would meet me at night at the squadron to take hand-held sextant fixes on stars from our fixed location. We knew that the U-2 on autopilot was seeking the set airspeed and heading. This “seeking” had a sine wave curve of approximately two minutes’ duration. Quent taught me to be patient. We had to keep the star centered in the bubble for a two-minute period and then average out the elevation readings recorded by centering and aligning the sextant's indices.
I never was able to shoot a star and have my reading be precisely my location, no matter how hard I concentrated. Quent's indoctrination made me realize what he was teaching me; my celestial star shots were going to yield my “most probable position” but not my exact location. He thus convinced me that the best navigation approach was a three-star fix with one of the three stars as close to my line of flight as possible. He said this would give me a good speed line. The other two stars should be preferred so that their Line of Position (LOP) formed as close to and equal to lateral triangle as possible. The small triangle derived from dropping a perpendicular from the apex of the triangle to the opposite side would be my most probable position and close to my real location.
Jerry McIlmoyle receiving an award, 1960.
Left to right: Jerry McIlmoyle, Danny Schmarr, Ray Lodin and Ed Dixon, November 1963.
I don't know why but, to me, this navigation technique was exciting, intriguing and fascinating. I would have the knowledge of being able to navigate anywhere in the world by lining up with the stars. Of course, this gift of navigation was basic to our squadron's mission of flying over the North and South Poles. I could span the oceans of the world and stretch my U-2 over the Amazon jungle. I could traverse the periphery of the Soviet Union, China, North Korea, North Viet Nam, anywhere.
On this special night of flying the U-2, I was “charged up.” I was going to test my first attempt to navigate using three star fixes on two separate night celestial legs. Before the flight I had a relaxing dinner with my wife, Patty, and our two children, Patrick and Ruthie. I left them about three hours before takeoff. Most of the squadron was flying or supporting our celestial training this particular night, including the Squadron Commander, Hayden (Buzz) Curry. The wives were going to play bridge into the wee hours of the morning. I had to wait
for the heavens to get dark. I told Patty as I left, “If I ever get reincarnated, I want to come back as an Air Force pilot's wife!” Patty laughed. She knew who had the fun job and it wasn't her.
My first stop after leaving home was the Physiological Support Division (PSD), the Flight Surgeon's domain. The Flight Surgeon and coincidentally my cousin, Colonel Harvey W. Hertz, gave me my preflight physical. Harvey gave me the thumbs up and sent me to the dressing room to begin my two hours of pre-breathing oxygen. This pre-breathing oxygen process removes as much nitrogen from the body as is reasonably possible. It prevented the “bends” in case of cabin depressurization at altitude. I walked from PSD carrying my portable oxygen supply to the waiting PSD transport van that drove me directly to my assigned U-2. My aircraft had already been preflighted by a fellow pilot and was set for takeoff. As I stepped out of the PSD van, I noticed the unique Texas night sky. It was clear and cloudless, with a million stars forming an enormous black dome over Laughlin AFB. What a sight for a celestial navigational flight in this high-flying airplane. I was “wired” and I was anxious to get airborne.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 10
