Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend

by Gerald McIlmoyle

  In those days, the aircraft did not reach altitudes greater than 40,000 feet. The pilots wore a regulation flight suit, carried a survival pack, and cold weather gear, all maintained by the personal equipment section. MacDill AFB played a big role in the Cold War activities. Strategic Air Command (SAC) had B-47 wings in various parts of the US and TDYs were coordinated among those units. SAC aircraft were airborne 24/7 and armed with destructive devices ready for any situation. However, if the mission was uneventful, it was still considered to be a good training opportunity. Our B-47s flew into history and were replaced by the B-52 Stratofortress in 1955.

  In November 1956 I was scheduled for reassignment to Turner AFB, Albany, Georgia. I knew a fellow who had recently relocated from MacDill to Turner; I called him and decided to drive to Albany to look around. My friend and I talked about the operation at Turner; I was interested to learn what aircraft was flown there. It was quite a surprise to learn the entire unit at Turner was scheduled to be transferred to Laughlin AFB, Texas. I thought it a bit odd I was assigned to a unit that was soon to be relocated. But those decisions were made above my rank, and my job was to do as ordered.

  My orders for transfer to Turner came in January 1957 and indicated the unit designation was the 4080th SRW. I reported to the building noted on the orders. After I furnished a copy of my orders, the clerk said he knew the colonel would want to talk to me. The colonel was on base that day, but according to the clerk, he was usually at The Ranch. Throughout my Air Force career I had heard a lot of unusual names and designations, but I had never heard of anything called The Ranch.

  I was ushered into the Colonel Jack Nole's office; he was still wearing his flight suit. He welcomed me to the 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing and the Dragon Lady program. Col Nole was a handsome guy, like one of those stereotypical photos of a jet pilot. He was easy to talk with and I felt quite at ease. He very thoughtfully asked about my family and if they were with me. I replied they were setting up housekeeping in Albany.

  Col Nole knew I came from a bomb wing, and he said he was going to send me to a program across the flight line called the Black Knights, part of the 4080th SRW. The 4025th Strategic Recon Squadron flew B-57s. The colonel told me I would see equipment I had never seen, and he instructed me to absorb as much as I could in the next two weeks. We were scheduled for a TDY to California, but I had no idea what we would do there.

  The following day I went to the new unit across the flight line. As Col Nole instructed, I rang a buzzer for access to the building. I met another new airman, James Childress, awaiting entry also. James had come from Gunner AFB, Alabama and said he had worked at the altitude chamber there. If this assignment was related to the altitude chamber, things were going to be interesting; I had never been through the chamber.

  Lewis Nelson (right) with Joe Jackson (left) at the 4080th SRW Reunion, 1987.

  Inside the huge building, I saw a large board with names and a checkmark to indicate they were out of the unit. Their destinations were indicated as Yokota, Japan. James said he knew one name on the list, Harold Pfeiffer, whose destination was indicated as The Ranch. James said Pfeiffer had left Gunner six months earlier, but nobody knew where he went. There it was again, that mysterious name, The Ranch. Nobody had yet said what The Ranch was, where it was located or what went on there. All the enlisted men I met in the building were helpful and congenial; I saw some men sitting in lounge chairs hooked up to oxygen hoses. I would learn more about that in the weeks to come.

  The B-57s would fly to altitudes above 40,000 feet and pilots were required to pre-breath 100 percent oxygen to remove the nitrogen from their systems. I observed the techs in the unit as they assisted the pilots with their pressure suits. For the next ten days, James and I took our turns at helping the pilots with their partial pressure suits. We joined the pilot and the personal equipment specialist in the air conditioned vehicle for the trip to the flight line. The specialist helped the pilot climb into the cockpit, connected all the hoses and transferred the pilot to the aircraft oxygen system.

  After two weeks observation in the squadron, the orderly room clerk called that orders were ready for me, James Childress and another new man, Michael Rodriguez, to report to March AFB. As James and I cleared the base, we met an Air Policeman who also had orders for the same base. He was driving to March AFB in his new Ford Country Squire Station Wagon and invited us to ride with him.

  In February 1957 the US interstate highway system was still a dream; we drove the famous scenic Route 66. The journey took four days through some beautiful country as well. When we arrived at March AFB on Friday, we checked in at the front gate and the AP pointed where our building was located. However, he said the building was completely empty. We drove to the building to look it over and sure enough it was not only empty but also locked tighter than a jail. James and I were on per diem and could not stay at the base. We spent the three nights at a motel outside the gate in Riverside and returned to the base on Monday morning.

  The building we had observed to be empty on our first visit was now a beehive of activity with a group of men waiting outside. Some men were in fatigues, some in civilian dress. The door finally opened and Col Nole, who I had met at Turner, welcomed everyone. He called names from his list and said, “Fall in with your bags.” The colonel called my name, James, the AP and Rodriguez. A bus pulled up, and we climbed onboard bound for a C-47 Skytrain on the flight line. Col Nole instructed the group to put our bags onboard, we were going for a ride. The aircraft held 27 people, and when everyone was onboard, Col Nole walked to the cockpit. I thought, “This is interesting; the colonel is going to fly the C-47.” I noticed most of the people onboard wore civilian clothes, some guys even wore Levis. I was in fatigues.

  Col Nole taxied and took off without a hitch. He flew in one direction for a while; I observed the sun on one side of the aircraft. Then we changed direction, and the sun was on the other side of the aircraft. The colonel was trying to gain altitude to get over and through a gap in the Sahara Mountains. From my window, I looked down and saw huge black spots on the ground. I did not know at the time we were flying over Camp Mercury in Nevada where the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) had conducted atomic bomb testing.

  Col Nole started his descent, but I still could not see any sign of life. When we landed, I saw a mountain range in the distance. Our aircraft had landed on a runway at the edge of a dry lake. The colonel taxied a short distance and shut down the engines.

  The back door was opened, and I could tell we were in for an adventure. Two men in blue coveralls met us as we exited the aircraft with our bags. One of them said, “Gentlemen, welcome to Groom Lake. You are on part of the Atomic Energy test site. Please follow my colleague into the building. You can leave your bags because nobody will bother them here.” No one was allowed on this facility without approval at the highest levels of security.

  Inside the building, another man in blue coveralls told us that photos and badges would be made immediately; badges were required to be worn at all times. If we were discovered without the badge, well, that was another story. This was a place of extreme security. We were told, “What you see, you forget.” There was only one person we were authorized to talk to about our work, the man we worked with. Even mail was subject to inspection, and garbage cans were checked daily for any written material that was discarded.

  Now to the important stuff. We were taken to the mess hall facility where our guide announced we would be fed by AEC personnel. I heard some men express their concern about being around the AEC site, but it didn't bother me. I can definitely say the AEC fed us well. We were assigned to quarters in permanent buildings, four men to a room. I roomed with James Childress, Harse Perkins and Mike Rodriguez. That evening when we went to the mess hall, James saw Harold Pfeiffer who had disappeared from Gunner. Pfeiffer promised to meet us the next morning, and take us to the units where we would be working.

  As we approached the building the next morning, I commente
d on the brand new station wagon parked there, and Pfeiffer said it belonged to us. I later learned the real purpose of the station wagon. Pfeiffer, one of the members of the first group to work at The Ranch, told us there were no scheduled flights until the following day. He took us to an equipment storage room; everything was very different and new to me. We took care of Lockheed pilots the same as we did Air Force pilots. Some Air Force pilots would be arriving later to check out in the aircraft.

  Pfeiffer took me to the personal equipment shop, and introduced me to Andy Eloff, a tech rep from Firewell Co. of Buffalo, New York, manufacturer of the oxygen regulator. It had many functions, but if the aircraft lost pressure, the regulator would kick in and deliver oxygen to pressurize the pilot's suit. Without the pressurized suit, the pilot would die in ten seconds. Eloff instructed me on the regulator while the other men worked with the pressure suit.

  Four flights were scheduled for the next day; the other three guys in my group were required to be there because they were already familiar with pressure suits. I was not yet trained on that aspect of the job, but I would soon learn more than I ever thought possible about the partial pressure suit.

  Next stop on our tour was the flight surgeon's office; James and I looked at each other, “Why do they need a flight surgeon?” I knew the flight surgeon took care of the pilots in the hospital on base, but the presence of one at this unit was unusual. However, neither of us was brave enough to express it on the first day. Until now, the name or type of the aircraft to be flown there had not even been discussed.

  The next morning when we arrived at the building, everyone wore civilian clothes with no visible sign of rank, and only first names were used. Wearing his helmet, a Lockheed pilot was the first to arrive for his preflight processing, and I watched as Pfeiffer hooked him up on the oxygen lines.

  I worked with Eloff on the pilot's survival pack; I was familiar with the B-47 survival pack, but this one was a new ballgame. We went over everything repeatedly; I was certain I didn't want anything to fail on my watch. During a brief period of relaxed conversation, Eloff told me he had commuted between The Ranch and his home in Glendale, California for several months. Every Friday he took the Lockheed C-54 from The Ranch to Burbank and returned on the same plane on Monday morning.

  Pfeiffer took the pilot off the oxygen, put him on the walk-around bottle, and escorted him from the building to the new station wagon for the drive to the aircraft. When Pfeiffer returned, he took me to the hangar to see the aircraft. I thought it was probably a modified B-57. An armed guard was stationed at every building and badges were carefully scrutinized. Finally granted access to the hangar, Pfeiffer stood aside and said, “There it is.” It was like no aircraft I had ever seen, and I'd been around a few years.

  Pfeiffer said the aircraft, called the U-2, was classified Top Secret and a new language had sprung up to describe many aspects of the operation. For example, the U-2 was called an “article” not an aircraft and pilots were called “drivers.” Bringing the article to The Ranch had been a covert operation of the first order. It was disassembled and ferried to The Ranch from Lockheed's Skunk Works plant in Burbank on a C-124 Globemaster. When it arrived, a huge canvas-covered cart was wheeled out and connected to a Jeep that pulled it directly into the hangar. Inside the hangar, the two wings and the fuselage were uncovered.

  After the article was reassembled, Lockheed was responsible for testing it and resolving any discrepancies before it was assigned a number and turned over to the Air Force. While the article was visible on the ramp during engine testing, it was immediately returned to a hangar to prevent casual observation. Pfeiffer and I looked into the cockpit under the supervision of a Lockheed mechanic. As I walked around the article, I asked Pfeiffer about the part hanging under the wings. He explained they were called pogos the pilot would jettison after takeoff, and they would be reattached after landing. However, for training purposes, the pogos were retained throughout the short flight.

  Then we watched as a Lockheed pilot launched in a U-2. After he dropped the pogos, he went almost out of sight in mere seconds. It was spectacular to witness. The Air Force pilots were not that far along in their training for a takeoff of that magnitude, but they would be soon.

  I got to know some of the Lockheed personnel, Ray Gotti, Schumacher, Seiger, and four of the Lockheed test pilots, all great fellows and completely dedicated to the project. The next day, an Air Force pilot was scheduled to begin check out, training first in a T-33 Shooting Star. He had to hold the aircraft just above the dry lake bed at only 18 inches off the ground as he would have to do in the U-2. The Air Force pilot flew the T-33 several times to ensure he had learned the holding procedure well enough to move on to the real thing, the U-2. I thought it was a procedure not for the faint of heart.

  A U-3A, the military version of the Cessna 310, was used as a chase plane with an instructor talking to the pilot of the single cockpit U-2. The Air Force pilots sometimes bounced the bird around, but for the most part they caught on fast. When given the go-ahead signal, they could pull the pins to release the pogos. Maintenance technicians in a leased Jeep raced to collect the pogos for reattachment after landing. All the vehicles at The Ranch were leased with not a single military mark on them, and all had civilian license plates from the State of Nevada.

  Every Friday afternoon a C-47 flew to March AFB and on to Burbank with anyone interested in making the trip. March and Burbank were about one hundred miles apart. I could not stay at March AFB because I was on per diem and paying for a motel every weekend could get expensive. The mess hall facility at The Ranch transformed into a movie theater on weekends. Food at the mess hall was exceptional. A couple times a week we had steak with all the trimmings; breakfast included eggs cooked to order and bacon or sausage, toast and plenty of coffee. At first I didn't think there would be much to do there on weekends, but that opinion was quickly dispelled. Several guys notified the AEC guards they wanted to go hiking in the mountains surrounding The Ranch. The guards took the hikers’ names and watched them with binoculars the entire time. No chance of getting lost with the guards watching.

  Jack Nole came to the personal equipment shop a couple of times and asked me if there were any parachutes that needed to be repacked. When I told him we did have some, he said we would go into town the next day, town being his way of saying March AFB. After I stowed the chutes in the U-3A, he called the tower and off we went across the runway. Thirty minutes out of March AFB, he called the tower, requested a VIP slot on the ramp and asked that a colonel friend of his be notified of his arrival. When we landed, a “Follow Me” vehicle led us to the designated slot where an Air Force staff car drove up and a colonel stepped out. Col Nole introduced me to his friend who told me to put the parachutes in the trunk, and he drove us to the parachute shop.

  I took the chutes inside the shop and explained to the NCOIC we needed them to be repacked as soon as possible. The sergeant commented the parachutes were quite dusty and asked where we were from. I told him I could not discuss that. The sergeant casually took the chutes and told me to come back tomorrow to collect them. I returned to the staff car and reported when the sergeant said the chutes would be ready. The colonel then went in the shop and asked the same sergeant how long it took to pack a parachute; the sergeant replied about thirty minutes. Since there were three parachutes, the colonel said he would return in an hour and a half to collect them. I had to pick up a prescription for the flight surgeon and make a visit to the pay office before we returned to the parachute shop. Col Nole went to pick up the mail for The Ranch which was directed to a post office box number at March. When we returned to the parachute shop, the sergeant told me he had called his colonel and explained what had transpired when we left the chutes. His colonel instructed him to “give them anything they want.” With all the chutes packed and ready, we returned to the flight line where our aircraft was refueled and ready. We flew over the same black spots I had seen when I first came to The Ranch. Col N
ole called the Groom Lake/Watertown tower with his authorized call signal for entry into the restricted airspace.

  I was at The Ranch for 120 days and during that time, a number of Air Force pilots checked out in the aircraft. Rumors were circulating that the aircraft and personnel were being moved from Albany, Georgia to Del Rio, Texas. Housing in Del Rio area was scarce and rentals were being claimed by phone. My wife had called from Albany and talked with Stillman Long, a real estate agent in Del Rio, who arranged for us to have a rented house when we arrived.

  Eight to ten aircraft were being sent from The Ranch to Laughlin AFB. Pfeiffer left The Ranch and returned to Albany briefly before his relocation to Laughlin AFB. Between January and June 1957, James Childress and I had moved to Albany. We were the only people who had already had one permanent change of location that year which made for a real dilemma. The Secretary of the Air Force would have to approve a second move. Col Nole told us there could be no waiver for a second move within one year. What Col Nole was really trying to tell us without being direct about it was to get our pay records, and get back to Albany to cool our heels for about forty days.

  One of the men we met at The Ranch was going to buy a car in Riverside to drive back to visit his girlfriend in Georgia. Childress and I rode with him and Childress was dropped in Mississippi.

  When I returned to Albany, I told my wife the problem with the move to Del Rio. It was a difficult situation to say the least. I met with a captain of the new group at Albany, and he told me I no longer belonged to any unit at Turner. With some time on my hands, my wife and I went to visit relatives in St. Petersburg, Florida.