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

by Gerald McIlmoyle

In May 1958 Laughlin held an Open House for dependents and residents of Del Rio. Takeoff demonstration of a U-2 and RB-57D-0 regaled spectators with their launch and near vertical climb out of sight. To commemorate the event, the Laughlin Recon, the base newspaper, featured a full-width photo of a U-2 on the front page, the first such news release.

  The Next Chapter

  With mixed emotions, in late October 1958 I signed out of the 4080th and left Philco for a better-paying job at Republic Aviation on the new F-105 Thunderchief for which my work at Laughlin had prepared me. The F-105 was touted as the first fighter that would go through its service life and never see combat. It was the world's most powerful single-seat aircraft and could carry a bomb at supersonic speed, a record held until the advent of the F-22. The F-105 was a grand challenge, but we paid dearly for the lack of the SAC culture. My only other project that ever compared with the U-2 was development of the F-105F Wild Weasel, which like the U-2, attracted the best talent in areas such as design, program management, flight testing, and technicians. The Wild Weasels had SAC EWOs who used their electronic savvy to defeat the SAM radars. My heart and soul went back to my time in SAC. At the SAC 2000 celebration in Omaha, I had the opportunity to thank Lt. Gen. Jerry Johnson for putting my name on his tech rep list all those many years ago.

  On April 30, 1960 I was at Nellis AFB, Nevada with F-105s of the 4th TFW from Seymour Johnson AFB, North Carolina. At lunch time I spotted Pat Halloran's yellow 1955 Buick convertible with its Del Rio license plates. I put a note on his windshield and that evening we met for dinner at the Thunderbird Hotel. A little after midnight we walked out of the hotel and spotted the dreaded news headline all of us hoped never to see, “U-2 Shot Down Over the USSR.” For someone involved with the program, nothing could prepare you for this shocking news. It was comforting to have been with Pat when we learned this news.

  The 4080th evolved into a very efficient, well organized, close-bonded unit, and at no time have so few consistently contributed so much to our national security. We shared a unique bond of trust with countless “silent heroes,” who without fanfare performed outstanding feats. Security prevented deserved recognition for many, just the priceless reward of respect and admiration of their small fraternity.

  We left Del Rio with cravings for barbecued cabrito and Tex Mex cuisine never again quite satisfied elsewhere. We carried with us wonderful memories of the warm-hearted people of Val Verde County, the shopkeepers of Villa Acuña and Mrs. Crosby's Restaurant. We even developed an ear for that unique “key of G” music from across the Rio Grande. Sixteen years later, I returned to Villa Acuña for dinner at Mrs. Crosby's and I was surprised to be remembered by Mrs. Crosby's daughter and some of the shopkeepers. I was pleased to find on my return visit that Val Verde County had turned green.

  Richard Kemp

  Canton, Georgia

  My four short years in the 4080th SRW were some of the best years of my life. I joined the Wing in the Spring of 1961. My first exciting experience with the U-2 was an engine installation that damned near took my head off. To install the J-57, it was first hung on a track that was bolted to the top of the inside of the fuselage and the roller/hanger bolted to the top of the engine. It was rolled in and out on an engine stand. The clearance between the engine and fuselage was so tight that as it was rolled in, the mechanics had to push the engine from side to side to clear other components. I was tasked to do that job on my very first engine installation. As the engine started to roll inside, I bent over to crawl under the engine. Something in the roller broke and the engine fell about six inches into the fuselage, missing me by inches. Six inches doesn't sound like much but that engine weighed about three tons. Needless to say, it scared the crap out of this then-18-year-old airman.

  In early 1962 several other mechanics and I were dispatched by C-123, the noisiest airplane inside ever to fly. We went to Biggs AFB in El Paso, Texas, and recovered a U-2. The aircraft had suffered a flameout en route to Lockheed Skunk Works in California for overhaul and update. Only members of the 4080th SRW were allowed to work on the U-2s. That made it necessary to send us to Biggs to repair and launch the aircraft on to California. After the repairs were made and preparations were made to launch, someone up the chain decided to pull the pogos and hand launch due to the rough taxiways and runways. A man was stationed on each wingtip to balance the airplane while it taxied and started the takeoff roll. With a very small amount of lift, the pilot could control the balance with the ailerons. It was quite a show for those who have never witnessed this feat. We had large crowds of spectators from the base to observe this maneuver. I remember the Base Commander was a very tall, thin full bird colonel and his response after having seen the hand launch was: “Now by God, boys, I've been in the Air Force for a long time and I have seen airplanes take off every way you can think of, but that's the first time I've ever seen two guys throw one up.”

  Later that year I was sent TDY to Eielson AFB, Alaska. Since the beginning of time, there have been certain individuals in every military unit who know every secret. In this case it was the base bus drivers at Eielson. At that time, most of the U-2s were bare metal with the insignias painted on. While we were there, our airplanes were being rotated back to the factory and the replacements were arriving with the new all over gray paint scheme. Not long after the arrival of the newly painted U-2s, a bus driver inquired of his 4080th passengers, “How do those things take off silver and come back gray?”

  At that time, too, the number of missions we were flying increased. As a result, we were given additional aircraft and more personnel were sent from Laughlin. One such engine mechanic was Phil Champion; forgive me, Phil, if you read this. At that time of the year in Alaska, the sun came up about 4:00 AM and it did not get dark until about 11:00 PM. The transport of choice was the C-124 Globemaster. I swear that thing flew backwards most of the time. Phil's flight arrived around 4:00 PM that day and they were all tired from the long flight. We got them some chow and finally settled in their quarters around 5:30 p.m. Phil had a reputation for always being a little late for work. I explained to him that the Line Chief was very strict and would not tolerate any tardiness. I told him to be sure to get to the flight line by the 8:30 AM for roll call the next day. By 6:30 PM Phil was fast asleep. Two and a half hours later at 9:00 PM a couple of us rushed into Phil's room yelling that the Line Chief was mad as hell and he wanted Phil down on the flight line-NOW. He dragged himself out of bed, looked out the window and saw bright sunlight. He dressed and flew down the hall. Someone asked him where he was going at 10:00 at night. Phil said if he hadn't been so tired after just two hours’ sleep, he would have killed me then and there.

  Richard Kemp.

  Richard Pratt (left) and Richard Kemp (right). The two were close friends in West Virginia.

  Richard Kemp with his private plane in 2006.

  Not much was known about us because of the mission we were given and the veil of secrecy we worked under. The members of the 4080th SRW were not getting much recognition. We never felt neglected because we did our jobs with pride and for love of country. God Bless America and Dragons everywhere.

  Arthur L. (Art) Kveck

  Euless, Texas

  The Flight from Turkey

  We finished our mission at Incirlik Air Base, Adana, Turkey with a B-57D in March 1960. There were two aircraft assigned to carry our personnel and equipment; one, call sign Oil One Two, flew our advanced echelon team. I was assigned to the second aircraft, call sign Oil Two Nine. When we left Turkey for our next detachment at RAF Brize Norton, England, we were transported on a C-119 Flying Boxcar. The flight plan was scheduled with a refueling stop at Athens.

  The first premonition I had this was not going to be a routine flight came when we boarded the aircraft. There were enough parachutes for all of us, but the red service tags attached to each one meant the parachute had been condemned. Stapled to the red tags were yellow tags proclaiming the parachutes were serviceable items with the inscription �
�For One Time Use.” “Okay,” I thought, “How many times would we actually be expected to use them?” Being compliant airmen, we adjusted the straps for our own fit and stowed them in an accessible area. That accomplished, I settled in for the trip. Unlike a civilian passenger plane, the C-119’s seats were constructed of nylon webbing material and installed along the sides of the interior. Each seat had a seat belt and shoulder harness.

  The flight departed Turkey and flew to Athens where we refueled and pressed on. Our route was more or less straight down the Mediterranean Sea. Without warning the flight crew began experiencing difficulty controlling the number one engine's propeller. They were able to control it by using the nitrogen pressure that was designed to “feather” the propeller if it became necessary. After using all available nitrogen, the propeller went into a flat pitch and was no longer controllable; it was just like a huge speed brake.

  The flight crew instructed us to put on the parachutes, you know, the ones with the red and yellow tags, and get ready to bailout because the plane was going down. When the command was given, the bailout procedure was followed. The procedure, initiated by the flight crew, was an overhead alarm signal and a command by loudspeaker announcing an emergency in progress. We donned the parachutes, checked straps and buckled for tight fit to prevent injury when the canopy opened.

  Left to right: Tony Martinez, Wallace Thompson, unknown, the chap who bailed out with his bag, Art Kveck, Greenstein, the Jew who went to the altar in the Catholic church, and a chap who spoke fluent French and was able to communicate with the Italians.

  The designated jump master lined us up at the open door, and at the pilot's command sent the first guy in line out head first to clear the structure of the aircraft. Most of us went out the left rear door. I was the last one in line for this door, and Airman Hope stood in front of me frozen in the doorway. We didn't have time to waste so I kicked him out, and quickly jumped. I looked up at my canopy, grateful to see it spread out above me. The aircraft had descended at such a rapid rate, much faster than the parachutes, that when I turned, I saw below me the top of the airplane I had just left. I swung once in the chute. When I swung again, my feet hit a fence and I sat down in a farmer's pigpen, with the pigs. The aircraft was so low when we bailed out that the total time under the chute was less than a minute.

  One of the other guys on the plane bailed out the door on the right side and took his suitcase with him. When he dropped to the ground, all he had left of the bag was the handle he was holding. The flight crew tried to land the plane on the beach, but it skidded and went into the sea.

  We had landed near Catanzaro, Italy and the only person in the town who spoke English was a fellow who returned to his native land from Rome, New York, not the other Rome in Italy. He owned the local wine shop. How fortunate that was for all of us! It just seemed like a natural place to meet, and all of us, including the flight crew, gathered there. Because it seemed we had escaped “The Big One,” most of us went next door to the Catholic Church to give thanks for a safe landing. Joining me at the altar was a fellow I knew was Jewish. I thought that was rather funny, and so did he after a few glasses of wine. There was a US Navy Long Range Radio Navigation Station near there, and they were notified of our predicament. A truck came for us and took us to their station; they provided us with clean clothes and something to eat. They were really great guys, even if they were Navy.

  Art Kveck's C-119 in the Italian surf.

  Three men were hospitalized at Catanzaro with injuries; six others were transported to the US Naval Hospital at Naples. The remainder of the men escaped injury. One chute became entangled in an electric power line, but the airman escaped injury. However, the power line snapped and plunged the nearby town into darkness.

  The next day we boarded the truck again bound for an airstrip where a Navy plane flew us to Naples. When we arrived, Tony Martinez, our detachment commander, was there to meet us. He looked like a hero who had come to rescue us. There we were with only our dirty fatigues, no money, no passports, nothing except donated Navy skivvies, tee shirts and socks. Tony managed to get us some money so we could buy some necessities at the Navy Ship Store until we arrived at RAF Brize Norton.

  Tony made arrangements for a C-130 Hercules to take us from Naples to England where we were able to buy more clothes and personal articles that had been lost in the bailout and crash of the C-119.

  This was an adventure I wouldn't trade for anything, but I certainly would not care to repeat it. As you can see, the pilots are not the only ones who get to bail out of airplanes; we enlisted folks can do it, too. And, successfully, I might add.

  I retired after a 26-year career as a Chief Master Sergeant. After I left the 4080th SRW, I became a flight engineer and flew cargo airplanes, C-124, C-121, C-141 and the C-5.

  Following my retirement from the Air Force, I went to work for United Air Lines as a pilot and pilot instructor. I wouldn't take a million dollars for my Air Force career, but I wouldn't give a nickel for any more.

  Comments by Anthony Martinez

  I was assigned to C-119 call sign Oil One Two and took off from Incirlik on Saturday, March 5, at 10:45 a.m. local time en route to RAF Brize Norton via Athens and Naples. The first leg was uneventful and we arrived at Athens at 3:05 p.m. for refueling and took off at 4:35 p.m. local time headed for Naples. C-119 Oil Two Nine landed about fifteen minutes behind us.

  One hour and forty-five minutes out of Athens, Oil Two Nine notified my flight crew they were experiencing difficulty with a runaway propeller. One more transmission relayed they were losing altitude, then radio contact was lost.

  My flight crew received messages through the Naval Air Station that indicated C-119 Oil Two Nine had crashed or ditched. While my C-119 was on final approach to Naples, the pilot was directed to return to the crash site, approximately an hour away. However, the weather began to deteriorate and our plane returned to Naples. We landed at 8:20 p.m.

  Art Kveck's C-119 after he bailed out.

  Immediately after I landed, I collected all information I could gather regarding the accident and relayed it to Sixteenth Air Force, TUSLOG Detachment Fifty, Seventh Air Division, Second Air Force, Strategic Air Command Headquarters and the 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing. The reports I received indicated everyone on board had either parachuted safely or successfully crash landed. One of the reports said four people had been injured and required hospitalization.

  The following day, Sunday, March 6, a Navy R-3D landed in Naples with six of the crash survivors who were checked and cleared at the Navy Hospital. They had been determined to be in the best physical condition after the crash. They were taken by truck from the crash site and flown from Taranto. The fourth man allegedly hospitalized, SSgt Walls, had accompanied Capt Mattarocchia to the dispensary in Catanzaro and was soon released. Actual hospital cases were Capt Mattarocchia for back injuries, TSgt Watson for a fractured ankle, and A2C Hope for bruises and contusions. The remaining six members of our team were being taken care of at the US Coast Guard Station near the scene of the accident.

  I had been in telephone contact with Sixteenth Air Force Command Post. Sixteenth directed me to divert C-119 Oil One Two and other members of the advanced echelon team, with MSgt Harrison in charge, to Torrejon Air Base, Spain. I remained at Naples to provide coordination between the crash-site activities and Torrejon, Incirlik, Laughlin and Barksdale.

  One of the immediate problems resulting from the accident was the salvage of classified documents and equipment onboard the wrecked airplane. Salvage or documentation of destruction of the classified items was arranged through the Accident Investigation Team that was already at work at the crash site. It was critical to preclude compromise of either our past assignment or the project planned in the UK.

  On Sunday afternoon, the C-130 with others of the advanced echelon team arrived at Naples. Major Abadin, troop commander, spent only a short time on the ground. He was to be the first line officer to arrive at RAF Brize Norto
n. He would have responsibility for establishing contact with Seventh Air Division of the USAF, the lead unit on this portion of the TDY. The Seventh Air Division, located at High Wycombe Air Base near London, had operational control of all SAC units in the UK. The second advanced echelon team was unable to do much in the way of tactical planning because Dr. Young was the only officer present. Major Crowe and Capt Wood were to join us at RAF Brize Norton, but they had not yet arrived in England.

  Arthur Kveck.

  On Monday, March 7, I received information the tactical aircraft had left Adana at 6:00 GMT, and were to stage through Torrejon. At 9:30 a.m. local time, I established contact with Capt Barlow through the US Coast Guard radio facility at Naples; he advised me of the plans for evacuation of the salvaged cargo and remaining uninjured personnel. Colonel Wallace, from Operations at 322nd Air Division at Evereaux Air Base, France, was officer in charge of the Accident Investigation Team. He reported that all our personnel, except the three injured men, would soon be in Naples. They would be able to continue the trip to RAF Brize Norton in a few days.

  Later that day, I made arrangements for the six airmen at Naples, to go to the Air Force Clothing Store at Pangoli, for a minimum supply of apparel. Throughout this event, my experience with the Navy personnel at Naples could only be characterized as extremely cooperative. They took care of our enlisted men and kept me in contact with Headquarters Sixteenth Air Force.