During a night alert, one of our U-2s went down in the desert area near the base. A1C Jimmie Hendricks was on duty that night and accordingly had the job of photographing the crash area. Upon returning to the lab, he took the initiative to call for help. Together Jimmie and I worked through the night processing film and making finished “contact” prints which were on the Wing Commander's desk by the start of the workday. Jimmie did a bang-up job. The Colonel was pleased enough to send a Letter of Commendation for us. Of course, the Colonel didn't have our names so the letters somehow found their way into the promotion packets of two other airmen. Jimmie deserved to be credited with a great job at a crucial time.
Jimmie told me that while he was photographing the crash site, at one point he needed to stand in the cockpit to shoot the instrument panel. The officer in charge of the site cautioned Jimmie not to move “because the idiot didn't replace the pin in the ejection seat.” I didn't have any idea who the officer in charge was or the “idiot” he referred to. I guess the pilot had thoughts of ejecting and then changed his mind. I'm sure the officer in charge didn't really think the pilot was an idiot but it was one of those times when everyone was very excited and stressed.
There were so many camera assignments it is difficult to single out any one as a career highlight. However, there was one I considered as less than stellar. I had been sent to record the return of our birds from a TDY in Australia. I went out with standard equipment for a daylight shoot. The arrival was delayed and when the planes finally came in, it was almost dark. My assignment was to photograph the returning pilots beside their aircraft with their families and friends. I only had flash bulbs suitable for fill work and they were not very powerful. The result was photos that showed the people and planes reasonably well but with a completely black background. To my horror, three or four photos made the front page of the Del Rio News Herald, the local newspaper, with my name as the photographer.
Gene Stoddard 1961.
Photo specialists at Bien Hoa AB 1964, standing left to right: John Washburn, Larry Wachter (Tech Rep), Sgt McDowell, Airman Rodriguez; kneeling left to right: Airmen Salisbury and Clampit.
I enjoyed my assignment in the Photo Lab and I was giving serious consideration to my career after the Air Force. Photography seemed like a very real possibility for me until President Eisenhower visited Laughlin on October 24, 1960 while in the area to meet Mexican President Lopez Mateos. The occasion was to mark the opening of the new international bridge that spanned the Rio Grande between the two countries. On the previous day, I had photographed the arrival of Secretary of State Christian Herter. For me that was a life-changing experience because I decided then not to pursue a career as a news photographer. It was an unpleasant side of the news world as the “pros” jockeyed for position.
When our TOP SECRET clearances were approved, most of us were then transferred to the Wing Photo Lab where the precision processing of aerial roll film was done. The lab itself was in a windowless building near the flight line with a convenient walkway to the flight line coffee shop. At times an armed guard would be posted at the main entrance of the building, such as during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Admission to the building was strictly controlled.
The Officer in Charge of the Wing Photo Lab was Captain Roy B. Duggan, a real interesting character. I was told he was a survivor of a WWII paratroop platoon and his rank was established through a field commission made permanent by Act of Congress. My account of his record is strictly hearsay. His confidence was perhaps evident by one half of a phone conversation I overheard. It involved a dispute with a superior officer regarding base policy of additional duties for lab personnel, such as kitchen patrol or KP. It negatively affected the ongoing lab operation during the Cuban Missile Crisis. I can still see the Captain as he tipped back his chair, put his feet on the desk and drawled, “Well, Colonel, that's not the way it's going to be.” I believe he was talking with the ATC base commander, Colonel Byerts. The end of the story was that Captain Duggan did indeed get his way.
During the Cuban Missile Crisis, two state-of-the-art prototype Kodak machines were installed to speed up processing of duplicated films. After October 1962 we were extremely busy until we stood down for removal to Tucson in 1963. At times we operated for long periods without sleeping, the longest such period I recall was 52 hours. There were breaks and catnaps, but no bed rest. All of our equipment was pressed into service, including the mobile unit, which we had taken to Hawaii for Operation Dominic. We also had a contingent of extra TDY photo personnel from other bases to help handle the heavy workload. Two of the TDY personnel were Stanley Knutson, whom I'd met in photo school and Eugene Mock.
One of my additional assignments was filming U-2 training flights. I never saw any of the movie film I shot; I can only assume it was okay because I never heard a complaint. The idea was that the pilot trainees could see and evaluate their landing and takeoff skills. The filming was done from a level-on position below the control tower.
A few highlights of our off duty life came as improvements were made to the base recreation facilities. The addition of a bowling alley, Airmen's Club and library probably created havoc in the economies of Del Rio and Ciudad Acuña bars. The new swimming pool was directly across from my barracks and was a Godsend on some of those brutally hot summer days. Even when we were not at the pool, we could enjoy some of the more attractive female swimmers a short distance across the road.
I was assigned a TDY as part of a large operation called Joint Task Force 8, also known as Operation Dominic. It took place in late spring of 1962 and the objective was in support of atomic tests over Johnston Island in the Pacific. For this operation, a large, unused section of Hickam AFB, Hawaii was opened for our use. We lived in pre-WWII barracks that boasted patches covering the bullet holes from the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and Hickam Field. Surprisingly, the barracks had small individual rooms, rather than an open bay construction.
There was one detonation over Johnston Island that I watched with others from the ridgepole of our rickety old barracks. The remaining operations were delayed and then cancelled. After several weeks in beautiful Hawaii, we packed up and went home ahead of schedule. I never visited the Arizona Memorial, something I regret to this day.
One fun thing at Hickam was a design spray painted on our shirts. Oscar the Crow, a four-foot cigar-chewing model of the Old Crow Distillery symbol, became the mascot of our Crow Flight detachment. One of the flight line crew was an artist and he had devised a set of stencils with a special version of Oscar the Crow in native attire. The shirts caused something of a stir at Fort DeRussy and Waikiki. I'm afraid my shirt disappeared after my discharge.
In September 1962, I was sent to Guam on another TDY. The announced purpose of the TDY was support of high altitude weather sampling, but who knew. Two of us were sent out. Our only function was to set up a field photo lab from standard field issue. This would be done only in the event we were sent to an un-named forward position. My only duty was to inventory my equipment and wait.
Once we arrived, Airman X (as I refer to him here) and I had no real functions but were assigned “make-work” duties. I was assigned to an air-conditioned Quonset hut where our pilots suited up. All I had to do was drive the pilot to his plane in the air-conditioned truck. Most of my time was spent drinking coffee and playing cards with our private cook, Airman Arby, who had been temporarily assigned from the main mess hall. As I recall, he made perhaps the world's finest coffee.
Guam was beautiful, the climate was ideal, and I had a great duty assignment. Then Airman X struck and the tides turned. He was a unique person with a Bronx, New York, attitude and an abrasive personality. I figured the Wing Lab had probably sent him for the express purpose of being rid of him for a while. He had been assigned to do errands for Lt. Col. McCaslin and the Operations Center staff. I'm not sure what he did to irritate Colonel McCaslin or the staff, but he certainly messed things up for me. The upshot was he got my cushy job and I got h
is in the hot, un-air conditioned operations building with no cook and no world-class coffee.
Lt. Col. McCaslin was a tall man who barely fitted in the cockpit of his U-2. I was told his head was in a forward position and his helmet contacted the canopy when he flew. He seemed an affable person and I never experienced a problem with him or anyone else. I concluded then that Airman X had been at fault. My new duties then became mainly the destruction of classified data and making up the weekly football pool.
An interesting side note concerning Airman X—before we departed on that TDY, we were both issued some travel equipment. Among the items was a B-4 bag. On his B-4 bag was the name of the previous user, Second Lieutenant (2Lt) Powers, Francis G. While on this beautiful island, I purchased my first 35mm camera and began taking some personal photos. I swam at Tarague Beach, played pitch and generally enjoyed the scenery. There were inter-service football games and even cheerleaders.
An interesting feature of our rooms was a live gecko-lined ceiling. They became a little noisy but in general caused no problem. In fact, their presence significantly reduced the bug population. The shower and other facilities were conveniently located between two bays. The rooms had no windows, just louvers. The barracks building was three stories high, built of sturdy concrete, which would shortly be put to the test with Typhoon Karen.
One evening in October we received a general alert. Everyone was to report to their duty station immediately. There was a mad scramble and for a time it looked as if we would soon learn the location of that un-named forward area. Our gear was put on transport planes that were loaded and idled on the runway. We were lined up and given shots for some unusual destination. Luckily, the alert status was changed and not only had I been fortunate to miss the shots, we were not leaving for a combat zone. We learned later the reason for the alert was the discovery of missile sites in Cuba.
A couple of weeks later we were warned of an approaching storm. It turned out to be one of the most powerful typhoons ever recorded for the area. November 11, 1962, Typhoon Karen came ashore with devastating effect. As I recall there was no loss of life on Guam, but there was tremendous loss of property.
Photographic Lab, Group I.
After the initial storm warning, Lt. Col. McCaslin informed the area commander that our two U-2s were incapable of taking off if the winds reached a certain velocity and evacuation would then be impossible. The evacuation order was delayed and later the storm trackers predicted a direct hit. By that time, wind velocity exceeded the U-2’s limitations. The planes were put in a hangar by the runway. Unfortunately, the storm destroyed the hangar and the planes inside were too badly damaged to fly. After some scary work removing twisted and swinging girders, we removed the U-2s, crated them and flew them home on transports.
Without planes, our operation had ended. We didn't leave immediately and therefore, we enjoyed the pleasures of post-typhoon life, such as K-rations, no showers or potable water. The storm had changed weather patterns and it didn't rain for several days. When it finally did rain, most of us rushed out on the lawn with a bar of soap. Although we could see the Pacific Ocean, the beach was off limits due to dangerous and poisonous creatures washed ashore in the storm.
Only slightly more pleasurable than my rain shower was my first cup of Hobo coffee. It was produced on a paint-can stove and boiled in a #10 can mooched from the mess hall, along with the coffee grounds. As much fun as this had been, we packed up and left for home.
Things were pretty much work and sleep for a while when I got back. We were processing film hot and heavy. Although I never knew many details, there was no doubt from the film of the existence of missile sites in Cuba. The only breaks we had were the results of too much cloud cover over the target area and no film to process. Sadly, we learned one of our pilots, Major Rudolph Anderson, was shot down over Cuba while filming those same missile sites. May a grateful Nation never forget him.
Another unforgettable character was Headquarters Squadron First Sergeant Russell Field. He was a powerfully built man who was a serious weight lifter. I was told he had once competed in the Mr. California Competition and came in second to Steve Reeves of the Hercules movie fame. Perhaps this was an exaggeration, but I never knew for sure. I do know that nobody messed with the “First Sleeve” in our squadron. While I'm sure it wasn't strictly legal, Sgt Field would make small, short-term loans of 5 for 6 on payday. Everybody always paid up. I'm almost sure he made more in his “loan” business than the Air Force paid him.
Sadly, the only time I was ever in the Base Chapel was on a photo assignment. I did occasionally attend the Lutheran Church in Del Rio where a youthful Reverend Ahlert J. C. Strand had a way of making me feel I was the subject of his sermon. Perhaps it was my conscience working on me, as it might well have been, but I think he was really a very good preacher. No fire and brimstone mind you, just strong lessons in personal conduct.
Between TDY's in 1962, I played on the lab's slow pitch softball team led by TSgt LeDuc and SSgt Loomis Robertson. While we lost every game, a good time was had by all. One game started off with a bit of excitement when a small rattlesnake was killed at home plate.
Events eventually wound down and I received an early discharge due to the 4080th SRW's move to Tucson. Had the move not forced an immediate decision on my part, it is quite likely that I would have re-enlisted and made the Air Force a career. That being said, I took the other fork in the road.
John W. Washburn
(Deceased December 12, 2006)
The following information was submitted by John prior to his death.
I was with the U-2 program for 12 years and thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie of the men I worked with. I was assigned to the NEPHO unit and worked with the cameras that were installed in the U-2 for the photo recon missions. During many operations, we worked around the clock to prepare, load and unload the cameras. I made a lot of life-long friends during that time, too many to list. Like all the other fellows, I went on TDYs with the unit but I felt badly being away from my family for long periods.
Buck A. Young
Baytown, Texas
Wife: Claire
On April 1, 1957, the 4080th SRW moved from Turner AFB to Laughlin AFB, and the first U-2 arrived at the base on June 11, 1957. I watched the plane land, but even as the Base Information Services Officer, I did not know what to make of this unusual plane. I certainly had no idea about its mission.
My wife, Claire, and I had made arrangements for Space No. 29 at the Rio Vista Trailer Park off Gibbs Street in Del Rio where we set up our Hicks mobile home. Rio Vista in English means “River View” but there was no river within sight of our home. In fact, the railroad ran behind the trailer park. I didn't have a clue how to set up a mobile home, but fortunately for me, there were a number of Air Force personnel already living there. Everybody pitched in to help get our mobile home connected, propped up and leveled. The wives brought over a pot-luck supper while the men worked on setting up our home. We immediately felt welcomed into the trailer park.
My job as Information Services Officer at Laughlin got off to a fast start. Colonel Willard Beauchamp summoned me for a staff meeting. I had the competent assistance of A1C Reginald “Dub” Lawley who had been best man at our wedding. In addition, my staff included SSgt. Larry Miller, A1C Dick Oakerson, and four airmen fresh out of basic training: Roger Newell, Alfred Warjas, Bill Hillard and Dewey Griffith and photographer TSgt. Jasper (J.J.) Derouen. This staff was responsible for publishing the eight-page tabloid called The Laughlin Recon printed by contract at the local newspaper, the Del Rio News Herald.
I was also responsible for community relations and with Colonel Beauchamp attended monthly meetings of the Good Neighbor Committee in Del Rio. In the summer of 1957, the Committee decided to hold a fundraiser for the planned October Festival. The fundraising event was to be a “bloodless” bullfight in Acuña, Mexico, across the border from Del Rio. Colonel Zemke, the Wing Commander, his Deputy Commander Colonel Nate Adams a
nd Colonel Beauchamp joined six local citizens in the bullring at La Macarena to taunt, poke, provoke and generally intimidate the bull before running from it. Jim Thatcher and I were the wheelbarrow and shovel crew to clean up after the bull. The predictable result was that the bull was declared the winner, but it was a fun event enjoyed by all who attended.
1/Lt Buck Young 1958.
Supervising preparation of the base newspaper, November 1957. Left to right: A3C Roger Newell, A3C William Hillard, 1/Lt Buck Young.
In March 1957, almost a year after my arrival at Laughlin, I was reassigned to Sondrestrom Air Base, Greenland.
My first opportunity to return to Laughlin some 41 years later was the 2005 Reunion of the 4080th SRW. I attended with my daughter, Lila. It was an enjoyable weekend renewing old acquaintances and showing my daughter where we lived so many years ago.
Dressing Up and Stepping Out
“Experience teaches slowly and at the cost of mistakes.”
James Frounde
The Development of the Partial Pressure Suit
David G. Clark started working with a knitting company in the 1930’s and later left the company to start his own business manufacturing two-way stretch fibers used in women's girdles. Although his formal education ended at age 15 when he left school to work full time, he attended evening schools for courses in accounting and business at the insistence of his father. He earned no diplomas or degrees after grammar school, but he had an insatiable interest in science. By age 39 he had been granted six patents for items related to the knitting business.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 19
