"7 High" Chapter 2 "Peace is our Profession"

“7 High”

Recollections of a Combat Defense Squadron Ramp Rat

Chapter 2

“Peace is our Profession”

8 November 1960, we had already been told, back at Lackland, that SAC was a hard assed outfit and that once you were assigned into SAC, they never let you get out into the “Real” Air Force.

8 November 1960 United States presidential election, 1960: In a close race, John F. Kennedy is elected over Richard M. Nixon,

At home on leave in Spokane, my Mother did most of the work, sewing on those A3C stripes. Three pair 505’s, three pair fatigues, two blue blouses, two bush jackets, and that heavy overcoat. My fingers were sore, and I’d never have made it without her help.

It’s hard to get those little stripes on straight. It showed up a lot more if they were crooked. I never heard them called “mosquito wings” until recently, but it certainly fits.

It seemed like there was precious little time at home before I set out for my new assignment. I rode the Great Northern Railway “Western Star” to Chicago. This was my second stop over in the “Windy City”, and I always had a good time here. She is still my favorite “big” city. Then I took the Wabash Railroad to Peru, Indiana.

18 November 1960, to me, Peru seemed to be a nice, sleepy little town. The main drag ran North/South. At the north end, near the railroad station, was the notorious Rainbow Bar. About midway down the street on the west side, was the theater. Across from that was a good sized hotel with restaurant and bar. A little further south, on the west side, was the Army/Navy store.

Like any other American city of the day, there was also a five and dime store, department store, and, like any other American City of the day, numerous drinking establishments, all conveniently located on the main street. It was nice enough burg, almost a smaller version of Spokane. But after enjoying my visit to the Windy City, this was nothing to write home about.

I would have probably have just looked around a little bit and then caught a bus for the base, charged out there, and reported, just like I had been taught in basic, “A3C Dipshit, reporting as ordered, Sir”. But, as Lady Luck would have it, I ran into a fellow that was stationed at Bunker Hill. He was in civvies’, but was an A3C, assigned to the OMS Squadron and had been here for a few months.

We got to talking, and he gave me some VERY good advice. First of all, he said, “You’re on leave until midnight. It’s your time.” Second, he informed me, “You can drink legally in Indiana, no matter what your age, if you are in the military.” Third, “This is Friday. After five o’clock, no in-processing will be happening until Monday.” Fourth, “You don’t need to take a bus to the base, I’ll show you where the free ride stand is.”

This guy deserved a medal, but instead, I bought him several drinks in the Hotel Bar. They even had live music, a piano player. Being allowed to drink in public, this was a first for me, having just celebrated my eighteenth birthday while at Lackland.

Vodka Collins was the drink of the evening, real cocktails, no beer for this kid. I also discovered that if you were in a bar, in uniform, a lot of free drinks were directed your way.

My newfound friend showed me around town, in the proper pub crawl fashion. The locals were very friendly, they asked if I was going to be stationed out at the Navy Base, and I discovered that Bunker Hill AFB had originally been Navy. It seemed an unlikely place for a Naval Base.

Well, it was Air Force now, and if Peru was going to be home, I loved it right off.

So, about 10 pm, I retrieved my duffle and AWOL bag from the railroad station, and we walked to the “Share a Ride” stand for airmen. We were immediately picked up and dropped off right outside the Combat Defense Squadron orderly room.

I showed my orders to the Charge of Quarters, CQ, he didn’t know what to do with me. Someone lounging in the day room said, “Why don’t you put him in Tootsie’s room?” It was just down the hall, so he did.

“Tootsie”, it turns out was an A2C who was TDY to Loring, MA, so, I had a nice private room, with a sink, that shared a shower and head with the room next door. I fell into bed, and slept late the next morning.

The guys next door were slightly nuts, and very friendly. A2C “Harvey” and A3C “Oop”, they had been here for a while and were working the ramp on “B Flight”. They took me over to the mess hall for lunch.

The only thing that the mess halls at Bunker Hill had in common with those at Lackland was that morning smell. There were no metal mess trays here. Real plates, embellished with the SAC crest and blue star border. There was food to order, with choices, and absolutely no rushing. It was fantastic.

Walking back to the CDS barracks after lunch, we saw a flight of A3C being marched to the mess hall. I was shocked to see that it was the rest of the guys I shipped out of Lackland with. There was an A1C “White Hat” Air Policeman marching them.

Harvey and Oop pointed out that being marched around on a SAC base was very rare, and considered humiliating. Also, no one wore those grey fatigues and caps from basic. It was like being a “rainbow” flight. They also let me know that there was no pass required to leave base, you just left. It was like heaven. I almost felt sorry for my fellows from basic, until one of them spotted me and tried to rat me out.

It turned out that the other thirty five “Almost Apprentice Air Policemen” that I left Lackland with, were being housed in a different barracks, four to a room, treated like dipshits, standing formations and inspections, they even had drill, and were going to be marched around the base to the various places necessary to process in. Some of these stops would include, Personnel, Supply, Pass and ID, Hospital, Dental Clinic, Squadron Orderly Room, etc.

It being Saturday, Harvey, Oop and I and I caught a lift to downtown Peru for a few drinks and some shopping.

At the Army/Navy store, I traded my grey issued field jacket for an Army green one, purchased Army green fatigues, Ridgway hat, with rank pin, and a “tanker” jacket that could pass for a B-15. At the time the B-15 jacket was only being issued to aircrews and was much sought after by the air police troops.

Also, a blue web belt with huge chrome buckle, and a rubber grommet to fit inside the service cap and stretch the white hat cover taunt to give it that “fifty mission crush”. I also ordered the embossed nametag with SAC emblem that was required on Class A’s.

I had my new green fatigues tailored at the base laundry, with the squadron patch and my proud new A3C stripes sewed on nice and straight. Then I washed the hell out of them so as to look like one of the old troops.

As soon as I was issued boots, I traded the nasty, plain toe, ugly things for a lightly worn, and double resoled pair of Corcorans. It was kind of like instant time in grade. I learned from the old hands how to iron uniforms, getting the creases right, and the different methods of boot lacing.

At the BX I purchased a clock radio and a set of cheap civvies to wear while off duty, some of that fancy SAC stationary, and spray starch for ironing.

I quickly learned to show up at any in processing point, ahead of the marching band of in processing apprentice air policemen. The clerical personnel were much easier to deal with before that huge workload arrived. I was treated like a regular airman.

Since those 77010’s were behaving like trainees, the clerks took advantage of that and treated them like it was back in basic training.

Once, that white hat A1C that was in charge of them questioned why I wasn’t in his marching band of rookies, but I was able to tell him, “I’ve all ready got my three oh rating.” It never occurred to him that it was in other than air police.

That “bypass” “three-oh” in photography didn’t get me the job, but did save me a lot of suffering. That, and the advice of that blessed angel of an OMS airman that greeted me in Peru.

I remember walking, in blues and low quarters, to the personnel building early in the morning. Personnel was located in an older style building, near Gate 10. It was so cold that the snow squeaked when you stepped down on it. Already, I had heard talk in the barracks about something called “The Hawk”.

Getting in and out of personnel ahead of the pack, gave me a lot of free time, which I used to look around the base. Near the main gate there were static display aircraft, a B-17 and B-47. I wish I still had the black and white photos so I could identify those aircraft parked at the main gate. The B-17 nose art had a martini glass and it was the Martini something… The B-47 might have had a local (Indiana) name, Like “The City of Peru” or Kokomo, or Logansport.

I learned something about the history of the outfit. The 305th Bombardment Wing was a famous WWII bomb group that developed low altitude precision bombing and the combat box, under the direction of the unit commander, General Curtis LeMay.

General LeMay

His photo glowered at us from the walls of offices, orderly rooms, and headquarters. General LeMay had a reputation for being a hard ass commander, giving and taking stripes freely.

He had nicknames like “Bombs Away, LeMay” and “Ceegar LeMay”. The General was definitely in my chain of command. He had a reputation among the troops for being mercurial. You could be promoted or busted on the spot.

http://www.stripes.com/photoday/112606photoday.html

General Lemay had previously been commander of both SAC and the 305th Bomb Wing, so he had a particular interest in Bunker Hill. When he visited, his aircraft didn’t wait for maintenance on the runway to be cleared, but took off on the taxiway. It was a (K)C-135, I don’t know if he was at the controls.

305th Bomb Wing

Being in the 305th CDS barracks with the working troops, I picked up a lot of pointers, on a wide range of subjects. like “the hawk” and “snow snakes.”, and made new friends in the “B Flight” bay.

I learned that this influx of CDS troops, of which I was part, was to support the new B-58 Hustlers. The Hustlers were replacing the, soon to be extinct, B-47’s. The B-47s were no longer on alert, but were still on base.

The wing’s KC-97 tankers were all ready gone, replaced by jets, the KC-135, these were nearly identical to the Branniff Airways 707 that I had flown from Dallas to San Antonio.

Bunker Hill AFB also had an Air Defense Command, (ADC), tenant unit, the 319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron. They were flying the “Delta Dart”, F-106. Those things could really go, and they usually went in pairs. The 319th 106s had a tomcat painted on the tail with the motto, “We get ours at night”.

319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron

It was also pointed out to me, that as a rookie I was certain to be assigned to a lot of cold security walking posts, and that a sweat suit under fatigues made the best underwear in cold weather. I also learned some of the myriad methods of blousing boots, cans, chains, tape, hooked elastic to hold the trousers.

Processing in at supply, we were issued arctic weather gear, parka, flight pants, long underwear, mukluks and liners, leather gloves, woolen gloves, mittens, rain rear, rain boots. I’m sure I’ve forgotten half the stuff.

Plus, all the AP gear, boots, web belt, leather “Sam Browne” gear and brand new natural leather Army 45 holster that first had to be dyed black. There were also white hat covers, lanyard, fire hose, and gloves. It was another mountain of gear.

Nightsticks were included, and caused a number of injuries in the barracks that evening.

We had to scrounge our own parachute cord for boot laces. Dyed black for use with fatigues, bleached white for blues. Boot lacing was an art we were learning. My skinny ankles didn’t give enough room for the “spider”, so I standardized on the “ladder” style.

There were some things that my “three-oh” charm didn’t work on. Since Air Policemen were not required to pull KP it was customary before beginning duties to perform 59 days of KP. Rumor had it that if you did 60 days you automatically were assigned a Food Service three level AFSC.

We didn’t do 59 days of KP in a row. It was interspersed with SAC Manual 205-5, job training, re-qualifying with the carbine, getting a shot at qualifying with the .45, etc.

KP was a good place to get some wear out of the grey fatigues and brogans. Also, my clipper skills from basic training came in handy. There was the potato-peeling incident, in which rather than eye the potatoes we ground them down to the size of golf balls in the peeling machine. Some cooks took a dim view of the cops, especially us rookies.

My first Thanksgiving and then Christmas away from home slipped under the bridge. The Food Service Squadron did pretty damn good, but it wasn’t like being at home. I spent a lot of time writing letters on the new fancy stationary advertising the Strategic Air Command.

By now we definitely knew we were in SAC. There was an Air Force way, and a SAC way. We were to do it the SAC way. There was a “clone” of the SAC emblem floating around, showing the mailed fist clutching a pair of severed testicles. Also a photo of a toothless old geezer, wearing a flight helmet, with the caption, “You can sleep tonight, SAC is on the job!” ***

There was a pop machine in our barracks. It dispensed into a leaky paper cup. The Squirt was always out, so was the Cola. Seems like it was always Gilbys gin and Dr Pepper. I had a bad experience with scotch whisky that forever changed my DNA.

SAC Manual 205-5 training was boring stuff. How high fences should be, how the lighting should be set up. How far between signs, and what they should say. We learned how to challenge, and on and on. There was new memory work.

“7 High”: “A message dispatched to SAC Headquarters whenever an event occurs which could adversely effect the capability to launch the strike force, and which cannot clearly and immediately be ruled out as possible sabotage or enemy action.”

From any telephone on base, dialing 7 would connect you to the CSC Sabotage Alert phone.

There was a lot more, “Redskin”, “Broken Arrow”, EWO Procedures, SAC Two Man Policy, The DEFCONs, SAC Manual 205-5, (Appendix “A”, memory work, has some of this stuff, the rest can be found at:

https://web.archive.org/web/20140816061219/http://3973cds.com/3973cdsapjk.php

There were four kinds of Alert Force Alerts. Alpha, Bravo, Coco and Delta. They all sounded the same.

When the klaxon went off, Alert Crews proceeded immediately to their aircraft. If they were in the Base eXchange, the Barber Shop, the theater, or the Officer's Club, the entire crew had to stay together.

At the sound of the klaxon, then ran for their vehicles, and sped to their aircraft. Responding alert crews had right of way over all other traffic, and it was pedal to the metal. They were driving mostly fifty eight and fifty nine Ford station wagons at the time.

There was no way to tell what kind of alert the klaxon was sounding for. The entire base proceeded as if each was the real thing. When the crews reached their aircraft and contacted the command post they might be told it was just an exercise, or not.

The alert would continue as if we were going to war until the command post called it an exercise.

If it was an “Alpha” the exercise was terminated as soon as the aircrews got to their aircraft and made radio contact with the command post.

Otherwise the scenario just continued to play out. Aircrews started engines, notified the command post when they were ready to taxi, and if it was “Bravo” Alert, were notified by the command post, and the exercise was then terminated.

Otherwise, the crews proceeded towards launch. They taxied to the runway and began their takeoff roll, if it was “Coco” Alert, the exercise was then ended.

If no termination order was received, the alert aircraft launched at 20 second intervals. This was a “Delta” alert. We didn’t see very many of these. The “Skyshield” Operations were the only ones I saw.

We learned that flight line security was divided into four flights, A thru D. Surprisingly, the flights were never referred to by the phonetic. It was "A Flight", never Alpha Flight, or Able or Delta, whatever.

Each flight worked a schedule of, three swings, three mids, three days, and then three days off. Swing swift was 3pm to midnight, mid shift was twelve to 7am, day shift, 7am to 3pm.

We were given the opportunity to qualify with the .45 cal pistol. I don’t think anyone did. The range was a real experience, in the basement, very loud, there was no ear protection available except spent cartridge casings that we stuffed in our ears.

Especially during rapid fire, hot brass would come over the partition from the shooter next to you. Failure to button up the shirt collar was usually only done once. Hot brass down your shirt was very distracting.

It was important to qualify with a .45 if you ever wanted to pull an inside post. I took every opportunity to go to that crappy range and after months of practice, until I finally qualified. My ears are still ringing.

The motivation for qualifying was the weather. I soon learned about the “Hawk”. The Hawk would swoop in off Lake Michigan, bringing the icy cold. You could tell when it was cold, the snow squeaked beneath your feet. Troops coming in after a shift on the flight line talked about how fierce the hawk was tonight.

It was some time before we were actually put to work. The older troops took advantage of this to install fear, uncertainty, and doubt. (Later to be known as FUD, and not to be confused with FOD.) Maybe my proximity to these “old troops” had something to do with my impressions.

There were plenty of war stories floating around. One of the favorites had to do with “Snow Snakes”. Now, those of us from colder climes could see the humor in these tales of snow snakes, and went along with the program. There were some of the new guys from the south that were seriously afraid of having a snow snake crawl up their pant leg, and what would happen after that.

What was going on in the real world? We had no time for that.

17 January 1961, the outgoing Commander in Chief, Dwight David Eisenhower, made his last state of the union address, and the same day made his famous farewell speech, warning of the military industrial complex.

20 January 1961, John F. Kennedy was sworn in as President of the United States. His inaugural address, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country” was stirring, and I think that we felt that we were doing “something” for our country. Now, we had a new Commander in Chief. This was to be only the first of many changes to our chain of command.

24 January 1961, SAC B-52 with nuclear weapons crashed while attempting to make an emergency landing at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, in North Carolina. Of course this is something that the barracks rumor mill considered important enough to discuss endlessly.

A USAF Boeing B-52G Stratofortress, 58-0187, (the last Block 95 airframe),^[31] Keep 19, of the 4241st Strategic Wing, 822d Air Division, Eighth Air Force, on Coverall airborne alert^[40] suffers structural failure, fuel leak, of starboard wing over Goldsboro, North Carolina, wing fails when flaps are engaged during emergency approach to Seymour Johnson AFB, two weapons on board break loose during airframe disintegration, one parachutes safely to ground, second impacts on marshy farm land, breaks apart, sinks into quagmire. Air Force excavates fifty feet down, finds no trace of bomb, forcing permanent digging easement on site. According to the Wikipedia article pertaining to this incident, parts of the weapon WERE recovered. The tail was found at 22 feet down, along with the plutonium core as well as other fragments. The project is abandoned before the entire uranium mass could be recovered, due to uncontrollable ground-water flooding. The USAF purchased the land, to safeguard the in situ remains. Five of eight crew survive.^[41]

25 January 1961 In Washington, DC John F. Kennedy delivers the first live presidential news conference. In it, he announces that the Soviet Union has freed the 2 surviving crewmen of a USAF RB-47 reconnaissance plane shot down by Soviet flyers over the Barents Sea July 1, 1960 (see RB-47H shot down).

1 February 1961 The United States launches its first test of the Minuteman I intercontinental ballistic missile.

I went to downtown Peru with one of the fellows I had known since basic training. I had been to a teen dance club with some of the other fellows, and was going to show him the ropes. I didn’t understand what was going on, when the doorman said that we could not come in. I had been there several times before, we were both wearing blues, and in our teens, so I didn’t see what the problem was.

The doorman told me my friend was “Negro”, and they were not allowed. I turned and looked at my friend in astonishment. Never having experienced segregation before was the least of it. How could this doorman think that my friend was Negro? I had known him for months and he didn’t look like “Negro” to me. We had never discussed race. He certainly didn’t look black to me.

I wanted to go in anyway and to hell with them, but he was embarrassed and just wanted to leave. So, we went around the corner to the bar for drinks.

After we got settled in, I asked him how this doorman thought he was a “Negro”? I had known him for months and that had never even occurred to me. Having no clue, I could only conclude that some folks are awfully picky, I guess, because he hardly had a tan.

I don’t think either one of us had ever been confronted with racism before, or maybe it was only me that was naive. Certainly, we didn’t spend much time worrying about it, and never went back. But it was that time in the world that racism in America was in the news almost daily.

In the State of Indiana they had some funny liquor laws, not to mention the big one I’ve already bragged about; that servicemen could drink, regardless of age.

We went in, sat down at the bar, ordered drinks and were happily sipping away when we noticed some of our friends at a nearby table. Picking up our drinks, we started to move to their table when the waitress descended upon us with great wrath, causing the spilling of drinks. “You are not allowed to stand up with a drink in your hand”, she shouted at us.

There are a lot of funny laws, and they change all the time. But, anyway, after we enjoyed the hospitality of Peru, Indiana for the evening, we walked to the “Share a Ride” stand, and before long a sedan with a SAC Crest and blue officer’s sticker in the windshield stopped to pick us up.

We loaded into the back seat. It was a married couple, in civilian clothes. He was driving; she was really feeling no pain. Turning around in her seat to talk to us, she asked what squadron we were with. When we told her “Combat Defense”, she beamed at us and introduced herself and her husband.

We were in the company of our Squadron Operations Officer and his gregarious wife, Lucille. She told us that we were “her boys” and anything we needed just let her know and it would be taken care of, giving us the impression that she ran the whole base. We had no reason not to believe her.

She was really on a roll and it was new and scary to us. It must have been a hell of a party. They dropped us off right in front of the barracks and she told us again to let her know if we needed anything.

While we were training and pulling KP, we were also waiting for our “Secret” security clearances to come through. Early in March we received our flight line badges, the SAC Form 138, and were finally ready to go to work.

MAD Magazine pointed out on its cover for the March 1961 issue, this was the first "upside-up" year—i.e., one in which the numerals that form the year look the same as when the numerals are rotated upside down—since 1881, and the last until 6009.

1 March 1961, we were assigned to flights. I was lucky and was assigned to “B Flight”, along with my next door buddies, Harvey, and Oop. By this time Tootsie, my roommate, had returned from TDY and was humping the ramp for “B Flight” also. I didn’t even have to move.

My buddies from basic, the other 35 incoming Air Policemen, joined us in the Combat Defense Squadron barracks.

Among those moving into the “B Flight” bay was that lucky airman from Texas that got those perfumed, SWAK letters during basic training. I actually got to read one of those letters and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t know any girls like that.

That first duty shift was a midnight shift and I tried to get plenty of sleep, but was nervous. I had no idea where I would be assigned and really couldn’t imagine what any of these places, the alert area, or the MMS (Munitions Maintenance Area), or even the Aircraft Parking area looked like. We had never been there, but we had heard plenty of war stories by now. B-47’s were no longer pulling alert by this time. The alert area was filled to capacity with KC-135s, and the security was just the same as if they were nuclear alert bombers.

At this time, the 305th Combat Defense Squadron had some procedures that seemed unusual in my later assignments, but at the time, we had no frame of reference.

Air Police Shields were issued along with weapons at Central Security Control (CSC), before guard mount. We went through the loading/clearing barrel procedure, but weapons were not carried loaded. Guard mount was always conducted in the parking lot at CSC, no matter what the weather.

That first night, I was assigned to a perimeter in the Alert Area. It was snowing like crazy. I had no idea where the limits of my post were and worried about straying onto another post. I walked shorter and shorter lengths along the perimeter road.

As it snowed, it covered my tracks, and I was even less sure where I was. It was too cold to stand still. Walking along with my parka hood pulled up, I flushed a flock of quail and my heart stopped. Snow snakes couldn’t have been any worse.

Later we were to learn that to walk around with a parka hood up was to invite a handful of snow thrust in from behind. You needed to turn your body around in order to see to the sides or the rear. It was easy to observe if a sentry wasn’t doing that, he was an easy target.

The alert area wasn’t lighted. The perimeter fence was lit with eye level, high intensity, and outward facing lights. You had to watch those lights. If something made one of them blink, it was between you and the light. As you were walking your post a light might blink, and it could be an obstruction, but if you were standing still and it blinked, it would be an intruder.

In the reflection of the indirect lighting, it looked like there were passenger windows in the alert KC-135s. With snow covering the ramp it was difficult to tell how the alert area was laid out.

For a break, I was relieved and taken to the Alert Area Access Point, a small concrete block building at the gate. There was a small heater, and a coffee pot, but with four or five people standing around in arctic gear, it seemed worse than being outside in the snow.

The Alert Area Supervisor was a Staff Sergent and the Access Controller an Airman First Class, three stripes. I didn’t feel completely at ease in close proximity to so much rank. At least outside, you could walk around.

It was still dark when were relieved by the oncoming flight, and I still had no good idea of what the alert area looked like.

21 March 1961, was my first assignment to a strike team was day shift. There had been a B-47 incident the night before. According to rumor, a B-47 had landed, missing an engine and 12 feet of wing.

After guard mount, our A1C “B” Strike Team Leader was very friendly, and since we were talking about this B-47 incident, he asked if we would like to see it, and proceeded to drive us to where the aircraft was parked and let us walk around it. We were impressed with the B-47 and its ability to land safely with that much damage. I don’t know where the engine and chunk of wing came down.

The aircraft landed at 1910 CST 20 Mar 61, according to “A Cold War Legacy”. Here is the synopsis.

At 1556 CST, three B-47’s and a KC-135 were launched from Bunker Hill AFB, on a training mission. Rendezvous with the tanker was completed and the first B-47 accomplished a hook up and took on a token fuel load. The second B-47 moved into position, made a normal hook up and took on 6,000 lbs of fuel. After a planned disconnect and second contact at 1636 CST, the B-47 pilot felt a heavy jolt from the right wing, followed by severe vibration. The KC-135 boom operator reported an apparent explosion and departure of the No. 6 engine from the receiver aircraft. The pilot of the B-47 saw the engine and debris leave the aircraft. An immediate breakaway was executed, and while severe vibration was present, the aircraft remained under control. Ten minutes later, a 11’4” section of wing outboard of the No. 6 engine position also departed the aircraft. Some hydraulic control was also lost. The aircraft descended to 10,000’ under Visual Flight Rules and returned to Bunker Hill AFB. The approach chute was not used, due to cross winds and engine power limitations. The aircraft landed without incident at 1910 CST. Subsequent investigation revealed a chunk type failure of the No.6 engine turbine wheel.

That makes it sound easy, doesn’t it? The safety report makes it sound a bit scarier.

A B-47 from a mid-western base took off as number three in a buddy rendezvous formation with a KC-135 and another B-47. Mission was uneventful until the accident aircraft had received the 6, 000 lb briefed offload and backed off to observation position. While approaching for another practice contact, the pilot felt a sudden, hard jolt of the aircraft and immediately experienced severe control difficulty. The pilot immediately applied left rudder and aileron to counteract a roll to the right and reduced all throttles to idle to effect breakaway. The copilot stated the damage as loss of number six engine and severe damage to the wing outboard of the engine. The aircraft was controllable, though the outboard portion of the wing would bend up and back, causing occasional fish-tail vibrations. After about 10 minutes, the outboard 11 feet 4 inches of the wing broke off and the aircraft became easier to handle. As soon as possible after the initial engine explosion, a GCI site was contacted and an emergency declared. Under GCI monitor the aircraft was descended below the overcast and headed for home station. Before the time it established contact with the home base, the Wing Command Post had established a conference call with the parent Air Force, SAC, and Boeing. After arrival in the local area, approximately one hour and 40 minutes were spent in a slow series of checks to determine possible landing configuration. Finally, with gear and flaps down, the aircraft handled well at best flare speed plus 10 knots and it was landed without further incident. The landing was normal.

The friendly A1C Strike Team Leader we were riding with that day had over ten years time in grade, and this was considered fairly normal at the time. We had a real good time that shift. It was good to be doing something, and we liked to be able to cruise the base in the AF Blue pickup with white Air Police stripes, and a fiberglass canopy on the back.

We picked up coffee at the mess hall, mixed it 50/50 with hot water in huge thermos pots, for airmen on walking posts. We delivered airmen to appointments, and relieved the “A” Strike Team and MMS Patrol, while they refueled their vehicles. A real base tour.

A Strike Team was comprised of six men. There were two strike teams, one on duty, the other comprised of selected members from the off-going flight, who were standing by with their vehicle, usually in the barracks or mess hall.

The on duty Strike Team was broken into two elements, each with a vehicle, Team Leader, Radio Operator, and BAR Man. At this time there was an excess of rookie personnel, and it was not uncommon to have extra personnel riding along to get a better idea of how the base was laid out.

While the “A” strike team spent most of its time providing coffee breaks for walking posts in the Alert Area, the “B” strike team was running errands and transporting personnel. “B” Team responded to inbound emergencies and the majority of “7 High” business.

Both teams had specific assigned duties when the klaxon went off. “A” Team swept the runway. It was quite an experience to get the green light from the tower, and swing out onto the runway and punch it, knowing that there would soon be aircraft behind you.

Remember, this was happening in a vehicle that spent the majority of time idling in the alert area. Suddenly pouring the gas on didn't really work, they would just buck and die. You had to finesse the throttle, and black smoke would pour out the back.

But, we were rookie Airmen third class and didn’t spend much time on strike teams. The second patrol post I remember pulling was the MMS patrol. This was supposed to be sweet job, and I didn’t how I lucked out.

Since it was a patrol, I didn’t bring my parka and flight pants. Very soon after guard mount, I had to relieve the flight barber that was on the MMS “walking” post, and ended up spending the rest of the shift there.

When the patrol dropped me off they said I should stay in the guard shack, as there was a K-9 patrol in the area. This shack consisted of a very small sheet metal building, about four feet square, with badly scratched fiberglass windows, and a small propane heater.

I was wearing sweats under my fatigues and fatigue jacket and nearly froze, huddling over that heater. Because of the scratches and ice frozen onto the Plexiglas it was nearly impossible to see out. I sat there shivering, until the K-9 jumped up on the door, scaring the hell out of me. The handler, who thought this was terribly funny, was soon inside, sharing the heater.

The very next night, I was assigned the MMS walking patrol. This time I really bundled up in preparation. As soon as I got on post, the MMS patrol drove up and let me into the cab. It wasn’t long before the K-9 patrol came up and he got into the cab too. The patrol driver told me to listen for the radio and he and the K-9 handler proceeded to sack out.

Sitting in the middle, I silently roasted in my heavy clothing. I unzipped the legs of my flight pants, but that wasn’t enough, and finally, when the radio woke them up, I asked if I could get out and take off my arctic gear. The K-9 guard opened the door and got out. As I stepped out behind him, his dog came out of the wheel well of the vehicle, where he had been keeping warm next to the engine, and proceeded to do what attack dogs do.

The dog ripped the leg of my fatigues, and had ideas of more damage before his handler pulled him back. Both the other airmen thought this was pretty funny; my heart took several minutes to slow down. Thank goodness I had worn those rumpled grey fatigues under my arctic gear, and not my “good” army fatigues.

An identical sheet metal shack was staked down at the taxiway access to the Alert Area, at the end of the runway, right next to the run up pad. Again, this was supposed to be a walking post, but there were K-9 sentries and if you walked more than a few feet from the shack you couldn’t hear the telephone. But the windows were so bad that you couldn’t see out if you stayed inside. It was a very lonely post.

One night in a snow storm, I was sure I spotted someone standing in the field nearby. Thinking it might be a penetration attempt or the K-9 patrol screwing with me, I challenged. There was no response, he just stood there. The shadowy figure in the snowstorm was far enough away that I couldn’t quite make it out. I didn’t want to leave the area of the shack and we had a standoff there until the sun came up and I could tell it was a radar reflector.

The other story I remember about this post happened when I was posted elsewhere, and one of the guys, I think it was Charlie Safford, was huddling over that little propane heater, when the klaxon went off. The first KC-135 out of the alert area had already increased power before turning onto the runway.

The jet blast caught this little sheet metal shack, with guard and propane heater inside and blew it into the nearby field, scattering pieces of the shack and propane bottles in the process. Charlie was beat up a little. He took a lot of ribbing about the incident, since everyone assumed he had been asleep.

Back in the barracks, the Texas Airman, Labeau, of the SWAK letters had received another one of those letters, this one notifying him of his impending fatherhood. This was the source of much amusement in the flight, and the first time I had seen the condom on the doorknob routine. It persisted for days, much to his embarrassment and our hilarity.

His girlfriend soon arrived in Peru, they were married, and moved into a tiny apartment. When we were invited down there we could get an idea of what it would be to live on an Airman Third Class pay, with a wife and baby.

Also, about this time, our barracks neighbor, Oop, came back from leave with a possum, the first I had ever seen, and his little brother. He kept the possum around as a pet and it lived in an unused wall locker. His little brother, about 13, was outfitted with A3C fatigues, and lived in the barracks, ate in the mess hall, and stayed with us for many weeks. I’m sure he learned a lot about the Air Force.

Anywhere on base, even from in the barracks, especially at night in cold weather, you could hear the sound of MD-3 ground power units running in the alert area. The memories of those cold, crisp nights, with the smell of JP-4 exhaust mingled with that mess hall odor, still remain.

Area 5 was the non-alert aircraft parking area. Here B-47 and KC-135 aircraft were parked in rows; wingtip-to-wingtip, while maintenance and other activity was going on.

At night, it was not uncommon for the area to be completely deserted, all dark aircraft sitting in rows, except for one or two aircraft that were a beehive of activity and had many vehicles, flashing lights and equipment clustered around.

The aircraft parking spots were identified by a grid, with letters one way, and numbers the other. For example, Juliet-Three, or Delta-Two identified specific parking positions.

One midnight shift I relieved the Area Five sentry, it was Spreightler, for a break. It was dead quiet as I was walking his post behind a row of B-47’s. As I walked I heard a creaking noise. When I stopped to listen, the noise stopped. I noticed that the tail guns on the nearest B-47 were pointed directly at me. I took a few steps and there was that creak again, and those guns were still pointed right at me.

I took off my carbine and laid it down on the ramp and tried walking away again. No creak and the guns didn’t more. It was just starting to get light, when I noticed someone running between the aircraft a row over.

I retrieved my carbine and moved into a position between the rows of aircraft, and waited for the intruder to run across the row so that I would have a clean shot without any aircraft behind. As soon as he cleared the row, I blew my whistle, and he kept on running. Repeated blasts on the whistle and he was still running.

I could have shot the dumb ass that thought he was going to sneak up behind me coming back to take his post. Seemingly unconcerned, he didn’t realize how close I had been to putting a round into him. I wanted to know why he didn’t stop when he was caught and I blew my whistle.

I’ve included an airport diagram in appendix “B”. You can still see the outline of the Christmas tree alert areas. They are indicated “closed to military aircraft” now. The general flight line looks pretty much the same as I remember it. The fire department and security (CSC) seem to be in the same places. The tower now seems to be located where there used to be a bunker for test firing of aircraft guns. The MMS area is now the Miami County Correctional Facility.

The 319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron had their own Alert and non alert parking areas for their Convair “Delta Dart” F-106s, on the north end of the ramp. SAC provided a walking sentry for the non-alert area. I remember walking this post on a bright cold day shift. In plain sight of the tower and everyone else, it was too cold to stand still.

The Air Defense Command (ADC), parked their aircraft on an angle, as opposed to the SAC way.

Kicking chunks of ice into other was the only entertainment when you had a post where you couldn’t hide. One thing we did was a game called “ducks”, and it was vaguely similar to curling.

The F-106s didn’t provide very good shelter from the wind, I can see how SAC ended up with the post. They were pretty cool aircraft, though, and had the squadron insignia painted on the tail.

Watching the “Sixes” taking off in pairs with afterburners blazing was superb entertainment.

319th FIS Air Police staffed the Alert F-106s and the ADC side of the MMS area. They didn’t attend our guard mount, having their own informal meeting.

Base Operations and the tower was on the corner of the building where it is now designated civilian parking area, and was transient parking, back in the day. This is center of the ramp, where base operations and transient aircraft parking area were located. Aircraft commonly seen in this area included; T-33, C-47, C-54, C-119, C-124, and an occasional B-57 or RB-66. The Base Aero Club had a few ships here, too.

Across the end of Runway 23, was the Alert Area. Two “Christmas tree” type hardstand areas were separated by the alert facility, which was mostly underground. The “mole hole” had an award winning dining facility, with a genuine “Duncan Hines Approved” sign. One of the benefits of working swing or day shift in the alert area was eating here. It was excellent chow.

30 March 1961, we received orders certifying our completion of “three-oh” training. We began to be assigned as close-in aircraft sentry. Alert aircraft guards were required to memorize at least the Aircraft Commander names and tail numbers of their aircraft from the SAC Form 380s, which were passed from sentry to sentry, along with the SOPs for that post. With KC-135’s, one sentry could be responsible for up to three alert aircraft. With this many aircraft it was impossible to challenge all the responding crews when the klaxon went off.

The challenge procedure consisted of the code of the day question and response. Normally, the guard would prompt with 10, and the crew would respond with the remainder to add up the code for the day. There was also another code to indicate duress.

When the klaxon went off for an alert, the crews would come running out of the mole hole to their aircraft. A quiet night could erupt into a massive turmoil in just a few seconds. All the guard could do was try to get between the crews and their aircraft and attempt to get the code as they went by. It would not have been advisable to get in the way of either air or ground crews rushing to get engines started.

Any time aircraft were running engines it was dangerous to be too close. Especially during alert operations in freezing weather, the jet blast would throw chunks of ice a considerable distance. Nobody was worrying about where the sentries were, it was up to you to get safe. Sometimes this was easier said than done.

Between alerts, and simulated exercises, we were kept busy by our Flight Commander. He occasionally brought the Duty Officer with him, checking posts. We had a very new Second Lieutenant in the CDS Squadron and he was often assigned this duty. 2Lts were called “jeeps” and this fellow didn’t look much older than me.

Some times they would make you challenge the vehicle, but usually, they didn’t want to get out in the bad weather, and after recognizing them, the sentry approached the vehicle on the passenger’s side and reported to the jeep. It was just a little different than at basic training. “A3C Dipshit, reporting Post number 4, all secure sir.” Saluting with a carbine was a little different too, if you didn’t grab the strap, it could fly off your shoulder and smack into the vehicle. Word was around that our jeep hated this and it continued to happen rather frequently.

Each aircraft hardstand had a telephone, with a red light above that illuminated when it rang. A list of these phone numbers was a good thing to have. When the gate 10 guard called the alert area access point to let them know the duty officer had just come through, the access controller would ring one of these phones at nights, to flash the light and warn the sentries. Some access controllers flashed the lights at the gate area, also.

If the flight commander and duty officer tried to sneak into the alert area across the runway, the taxiway guard would get on the phone to the access controller. Generally, the whereabouts of the duty officer and flight commander were well kept track of.

KC-135s were wonderful aircraft to guard during cold weather. When temperatures dropped below the freezing point, crew chiefs would be around the aircraft regularly to heat the demineralized water that was onboard to be injected into the jet engines during takeoff.

MD-3 power units that contained a light aircraft engine, would be running, exhausts barking, and sparks flying. The row of green lights on the instrument panel would be glowing brightly when all was running properly.

Ground heaters might be running, too, to heat the interior of the aircraft. Those ground heaters were tricky. Once started, you couldn’t just shut them down. The engine needed to continue running until the heating chamber was clear of fumes. If you didn’t know what you were doing and just shut it down when you heard the duty officer was coming, it could just blow up on you.

One of our “B” Flight clowns had a reputation for screwing off. This would be Charlie Safford again... One cold night, after a hard day in ‘Naptown, he leaned his carbine against a Coleman tug in the alert area, crawled inside, and, pulling up his parka hood, and proceeded to sack out.

The Alert Area Supervisor, himself a bit of a funny man himself, came by and saw this. There was a ground heater running nearby. He moved the heater duct to melt a snow bank; gently put Charlie's carbine in the puddle, replaced the heater duct, and drove off.

As dawn lit up the day, Charlie until he saw the posting truck pull up to the access point before crawling down. He then started looking for his weapon. When he found it, it was frozen solid in a puddle that was now ice.

As the posting truck started around the area, he was frantically kicking at this ice. This is not a very effective technique when wearing mukluks. This was all to the great amusement of the rest of the guards in the alert area until it became obvious that he wasn’t going to make it in time.

One of the worst things you could do was to not be ready when the posting truck arrived, as you were holding up the entire relief. There would be a whole bunch of guys on your back if you couldn’t find your SOPs or SAC Form 380’s to turn over to the oncoming guard. They had been waiting all shift to get off work and had things to do.

We watched and fumed as they tried to chip that carbine out of the ice. We were still pissed off at him when the wayward airman turned up in the barracks, very late, after cleaning his weapon and explaining to the Flight Commander.

There were often interesting conversations in the posting truck. One night, there was a contest to see who could come up with the most names for the female genitalia. This sheltered young troop from the Pacific Northwest had no idea how many names there are for this item.

On the flight that relieved us, there was an A1C who many times drove the alert area posting truck. He would stop the truck at gate ten and refuse to proceed unless we sang the Mickey Mouse song. So the posting vehicle would proceed through the base and into the parking lot at CSC with a chorus of airmen singing “M I C… See you real soon. K E Y… Why? Because we like you. M O U S E”.

Because the B-58’s were behind schedule there was an abundance of manpower. Our flight had a barber, and on midnight shift, personnel were relieved from post and transported to the MMS Access Control Building, where he had a chair set up for haircuts. Our flight commander also took advantage of this, using the MMS training room to try and see if his pointy headed A3C dipshits were learning anything.

With the coming of spring, it was necessary to be sharp. Arctic gear would no longer hide wrinkled fatigues. My investment in the tanker jacket and other gear would begin to pay off. Getting ready to go to work was a bit of work itself. Uniforms needed to be ironed. Boots shined to a high gloss, and bloused just so. If we were assigned to a post requiring a class “A” uniform it was necessary to bleach clean a white cap cover, scarf, gloves and boot laces. To look sharp it was necessary to “break starch” every day.

To get off the ramp the flight line gate posts were the next step. You got your own guard shack with two phones, a heater, table, chair, and electricity to plug in your radio. This was better than humping the ramp in bad weather. On the other hand, it certainly got you noticed. Getting caught sitting down in a gate shack was a sure way to end up back on a perimeter post.

Two flight line gates at Bunker Hill AFB required Class A uniforms; Gate 1, into the Wing Command area, and Gate 5 into CSC, and the flight line. The older troops didn’t like getting dressed up, so the Class A gates were open to us rookies.

The other flight line gates, Gate 2, into the flying squadron areas, was only open during rush hours, Gate 7, into the 319th FIS area and Gate 10, into the Alert and MMS areas all were fatigue posts. But only the sharpest airmen were assigned to them. Typically, you had to do your time on Gate 5 and 1, first, not only because they were the class A uniform, but had the most traffic.

At any time of year, the lights of any of these gate shacks attracted bugs. In springtime giant moths and hordes of June Bugs would swarm around. Our flight drinking champion got into trouble for using his .45 on one of those moths that had landed on the wall inside the Gate 10 shack. The June Bugs were so thick that they would crunch underfoot when walking out to check through a vehicle.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phyllophaga_%28genus%29

12 April 1961 Vostok 1: Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin becomes the first human in space.

17 April 1961 The Bay of Pigs Invasion of Cuba begins; it fails by April 19.

Declassified after action report, “Operation Pluto”.

http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB29/04-01.htm

National Security Archive, “The Nuclear Vault”

http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/nukevault/index.htm

18 April 1961 the last B-47 departed Bunker Hill.

Our Flight Commander, TSgt Evans, had a spring barbecue in the backyard of his home in Peru. The whole flight was invited. Somehow I had managed a double date with a fellow driving a rambler. It was terrific car, the whole inside made into a bed.

It was a real nice spring evening, and even our “Squadron Mother”, Lucille, showed up. As the party got rolling, a chug a lug, beer drinking contest developed. We rookies were dropped in the first rounds, and finally it came down to Bladorn, our flight champion, and Lucille.

In a best of three, he beat her the first time, and she claimed that her blouse had slowed her down in tipping the can. She stripped to a formidable brassiere, and beat him two in a row, to cheering and applause from the rest of the flight. He claimed distraction, but was jeered down.

In the barracks it was common for a group to gather in one room for the playing of records. Now, of course, we had all done this in high school, but this was my first introduction to “party records”. These were supposedly risqué at the time. “Knockers Up”, by Rusty Warren was one, and Red Foxx had several. It was shocking to hear everyday language on records.

One of the popular albums in the barracks was Oscar Brand’s Air Force songs. The cover had a picture of him, floating down under a parachute. He was drinking champagne and smoking a cigarette in a long holder.

Still available, click for Amazon

11 May 1961 the first B-58 arrived at Bunker Hill, I was assigned to Flight Line Gate 5 on day shift.

We were aware of this event, because there was some ceremony planned. So, when the low altitude, high speed pass happened, there was no surprise, we were all anxious to see our first B-58. But, then it came around again, slower, and didn’t land, then the hot line from CSC rang, with the news that we had a B-58 declaring an in-flight emergency, the landing gear would not deploy.

Soon, a KC-135 was launched to refuel the B-58. Our first B-58 continued to fly around and around. Finally, after several hours, the aircraft, landed safely.

The “B” Strike Team that escorted the aircraft reported that Lt. Col. Trevisani, was the pilot and the first thing he had done after getting out of the aircraft was to pitch a fit, cursing and kicking the tires and landing gear.

Col. Trevisani had a reputation with the Air Police, as he liked to drive his private vehicle, (POV) right to his aircraft on the flight line. He was also known to be more than a little testy at times, and had lit into rookie air cops before.

Kicking the tires, this sounded like the Col. Trevisani we knew. We also learned that those tires were replaced after every flight on the new B-58’s, and there was a lot of those little tires on each aircraft.

Now, Bunker Hill was officially the fastest Air Force Base in the World. It wasn’t long before matchbooks from the Officers Club were circulating on base that certified to this fact. “These matches have been flown at Mach 2 in a B-58 Hustler from Bunker Hill AFB, the fastest AFB in the world.” They were great conversation starters with the ladies, and really impressed my buddies at home too. ***photo?

24 May 1961 American civil rights movement: Freedom Riders are arrested in Jackson, Mississippi for "disturbing the peace" after disembarking from their bus.

26 May 1961, A B-58 from the 43rd Bomb Wing at Carswell AFB flew non-stop from Carswell to Paris to celebrate the 34th Anniversary of Lindbergh’s crossing.

2 June 1961 President John F. Kennedy visits the Supreme Headquarters of the Allied Powers in Europe (SHAPE) during a stop in Paris highlighted by talks with French President Charles de Gaulle. Kennedy was on his way to Vienna for a summit meeting with Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev.

***missing stars & stripes photo

3 June 1961, The B-58 from the 43rd BW crashed after takeoff during the Paris Air show, killing the crew.

25 June 1961 Iraqi president Abdul Karim Kassem announces he is going to annex Kuwait.

27 June 1961 Kuwait requests British help; the United Kingdom sends in troops.

14 July 1961, I applied for leave. Do you remember what the high tech USAF leave card looked like?

18 July 1961, I headed for home in Spokane. This time, taking the Wabash Cannonball out of Peru, it took all night to go the 25 miles to Logansport, due to a derailment. We crawled slowly along an unused line, rocking and rolling, with branches scraping the sides of the cars.

Finally arriving in Logansport, I caught the Pennsylvania Railroad to Chicago, and the Empire Builder to Spokane. I completed the entire military police correspondence course while sitting in the dome car.

After a few days at home, my folks offered to upgrade me to fly as far as Chicago to allow me to stay in Spokane few more days. So I did that, again flying on Northwest Air Lines DC-6. Flying was still luxurious compared to today. Northwest Orient Airlines had “Imperial Service”. This tag is still hanging on my AWOL bag.

From Spokane, it was one stop in Great Falls, then Minneapolis/St. Paul, then Chicago. From Chicago, I took the bus to Peru, rather than wait for the train, even though I had a ticket.

***The unused portion of that ticket on the “Wabash Cannonball” is around here someplace, I’ll include it here when it turns up.

What did I do on leave? Went to the lake. Made the rounds. I don’t have a clue.

Back at work, I had an interesting dilemma, one day, while posted as a perimeter guard during a “Broken Arrow” simulation; I noticed a C-119, Flying Boxcar coming down the taxiway toward my post. We had no means of communication, and it wasn’t too long before I was faced with the choice of what to do.

I came to port arms and tried to stand my ground, but they just kept coming. I thought of pointing my carbine at them, but the rule was don’t point at anything you don’t intend to shoot. Waving my arms and indicating stop had no effect. Eventually, I gave way, and they went taxiing on past, right into the simulated nuclear accident area. I was expecting to get reamed out good over this, but nobody ever said anything to me about it, and I thought it best not to ask what I should have done.

19 August 1961 Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson waves from his limousine after arriving in West Berlin in the wake of the construction of the Berlin Wall. Johnson was accompanied by Gen. Lucius Clay, President Kennedy's special advisor; the next day, they greeted a column of nearly 500 vehicles and trailers from the 1st Battle Group, 18th Infantry, sent in from West Germany to shore up West Berlin's defense.

***missing stars & stripes photo

7 September 1961 Sfc. Martin Joyce, left, of Company D., 2nd Battle Group, holds the Army's new M14 rifle as group commanding officer Col. John M. Deane, center, talks with Tonight Show host Jack Paar during filming in Berlin. Paar's high-profile visit, only a few days after the Berlin Wall was put in place, stirred controversy back home.

***missing stars and stripes photo and story

It was to be a while before the B-58s were ready to stand alert and we still had an excess of CDS personnel, so it was inevitable that SAC would find something for us to do.

19 September 1961, the first grey alien was reported, and ten of us received TDY orders. We were going to the 815th Combat Support Group, Forbes AFB, Topeka, Kansas for sixty days. We were issued mobility bags and told to pack our gear.

23 September 1961 we loaded aboard the base C-47 and flew directly to Forbes AFB to experience the land of Dorothy first hand.

Recollections of a Combat Defense Squadron “Ramp Rat”

Chapter 2

Appendix “A”

Memory Work

Chain of Command

November 18, 1960

President, Dwight D. Eisenhower

Secretary of Defense, Thomas S. Gates

AF Chief of Staff, Thomas D. White

Vice Chief of Staff, Gen. Curtis E. Lemay

Commander Strategic Air Command, Gen. Thomas Power

2nd AF Commander, Lt. Gen. John D. Ryan

Current 305th Bomb Wing Commander, Col. Frank O’Brien

305th Combat Support Group Commander, Col. Vincent Crane

305th CDS Squadron Commander, Capt. Robert H. Brooks

305th CDS First Sergent, ?

305th CDS Operations Officer, Capt. Billy J. Mitchell

305th CDS Operations, NCOIC MSgt. Bobby W. Bulls

305th CDS ”B” Flight Commander TSgt. Carl F. Evans

Seven High - A message dispatched to SAC Headquarters whenever an event occurs which could adversely effect the capability to launch the strike force, and which cannot clearly and immediately be ruled out as possible sabotage or enemy action.

Redskin - A message transmitted to SAC Headquarters indicating that in incident or series of incidents has occurred within a Category I or II area which threatens essential elements of the strike force and the capability and readiness to launch the force. Additionally, this incident has been evaluated and confirmed as an act of Sabotage or Covert Action.

Broken Arrow - Any incident or accident involving a nuclear weapon.

SAC Two Man Policy - A policy pertaining to nuclear weapon handling procedures that requires not less than two authorized persons to be with any assembled nuclear weapon, or any major component, at all times, when it is not secured in a locked storage structure.

Recollections of a Combat Defense Squadron “Ramp Rat”

Chapter 2

Appendix “B”

References

“A Cold War Legacy”, 1999, Pictorial Histories Publishing Company, Inc., by Alwyn T. Lloyd, pp337-38, for 20 Mar 61 B-47 incident.

Synopsis

http://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/systems/b-58-fc.htm

Detail on the B-58 program, which was being cut back, even as we were first assigned.

59-2461 64 B-58A n/a
Initially assigned to 43rd BW; on 5/11/61 became first B-58 assigned to 305th BW, Bunker Hill AFB, IN.; later temporarily painted to look like The Firefly (59-2451) for a film; arrived at MASDC 1/14/70 and scrapped 8/19/77.

Table of US Strategic Bomber Forces

http://www.nrdc.org/nuclear/nudb/datab7.asp

Aircraft assignments 319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron ***

http://www.convairf-106deltadart.com/319thAssignmentPage.html

Bunker Hill AFB History

http://www.strategic-air-command.com/bases/Bunker_Hill_AFB.htm

Service of B-58 Hustler with USAF ***

http://home.att.net/~jbaugher2/b58_4.html

Wikipedia

3973CDS

Novel that was basis for the movie “Dr Strangelove”

“Red Alert”, by Peter George(Peter Bryant). 1958

Blackmask Com, edition 2005, Disruptive Publishing

Bunker Hill AFB (Now Grissom AFB)

Airport Diagram

Appendix “C”

Air Force Terminology

A/C Aircraft

AC Aircraft Commander

Bomb/Nav Bombardier/Navigator

Boom Operator

Combat Defense Squadron

Combat Defense Force

Combat Defense Team

“A” Strike Team

Reserve Strike Team

Various Patrols

DSO Defense Systems Operator

FUD - Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt, program commercialized by IBM - International Business Machines.

FOD - Foreign Object Disposal A program designed to reduce the amount of debris sucked into jet engines. The posters said, “I’m a FOD picker, are you?” There were buttons too, but they became a FOD problem

MMS - Munitions Maintenance Squadron

Snow Snakes - white, slippery eel type creatures that would cimb up a sentry’s pant leg, searching for warmth. They had been known to slither right up the asshole, if they weren’t caught in time.

OMS - Organization Maintenance Squadron

FMS - Field Maintenance Squadron

A&E - Armament and Electronics

SOP - Standard Operating Procedure

SWAK - Sealed with a kiss and sometimes more

SNAFU - Situation Normal, All F***** Up