In 1974 I was still in the United
Stated Air Force (USAF) working as an Air Traffic Controller. At the time I was
stationed at Tinker Air Force Base (AFB), Oklahoma City with the Third Mobile
Communication Group or as we called it the 3rd Mob. Our job was to provide a
completely mobile airport that could be established anywhere in the world on
short notice. This included mobile control tower, Ground Controlled Approach
(GCA) radar, navigational aids, etc. The down side was we usually had to
transport everything on 2½ ton trucks that had no air conditioning and the
seats were made out of horse hair 1 inch thick, but that’s another story.
The summer of 1974 my group was
deployed to Volk Field Air National Guard Base located at a little town called
Camp Douglas, Wisconsin. This deployment was done every summer to provide air
traffic control for numerous two-week training sessions for the various Air
National Guard units around the country. Every two weeks a new guard unit would
arrive, anything from C-130 cargo aircraft to F-100 fighter jets and several
other type aircraft.
Volk Field already had an air traffic
control tower where I worked, but we did have to bring our GCA radar and set it
up next to the runway to provide precision radar approach capability. This blog
is about the many adventures I had while working the summer of 1974 at Volk
Field.
Shortly after our arrival at Volk
Field we received a UH-1 helicopter from an Army base not far away. The UH-1,
or Huey, was heavily involved in Viet Nam but it was to provide rescue services
during the summer operations at Volk Field. The Huey crew had supported these
operations for several years so they knew most of the old timers in the 3rd
Mob. I was working the tower the day they arrived and as they came inbound to
the landing pad the pilot asked if Joe Brown (fake name) was working this year.
I said he was and in fact I just saw him go into the outhouse next to the GCA
unit. The pilot asked for a low approach and I, of course, approved the
request. The next thing I know the pilot has the Huey in a hover over the
outhouse and the wind from the rotor is about to blow the outhouse over. I see
the outhouse door fly open and the occupant shake his fist at the pilot who was
only a short distance away. I start with this story because it is typical of
what my summer was like at Volk Field.
Volk Field was at one time in the
past a large facility with lots of buildings and barracks. In 1974 all these
were empty except for those used to house the National Guard units every two
weeks and the one barracks used by the 3rd Mob. In other words, we
had the base to ourselves a lot of the
time, especially between National Guard units. The Base Commander did live on
the base about a city block from our barracks. He had a clear view of our
barracks as I found out one day when I answered the phone in the barracks and
it was him. He said in a very loud voice “Do you have a motorcycle in the
barracks?” I had to admit I had just ridden my motorcycle up a ramp into the
hallway of the barracks. He said “Get that damn motorcycle out of my barracks!”
I complied as requested but from that time on we knew we were being watched
closely.
The small town next to Volk Field was
called Camp Douglas and was just a bump in the road. It did have a large
bar/restaurant where we would gather almost every evening. During most of the
year this place would have very few customers but during the summer it was
always packed with all the guard guys. We got to know the owner pretty well
since we were there every night.
One day I see a strange item on a
shelf behind the bar under a plexiglass cover. I asked him what it was and he
began telling me a story about his famous moose hunt in Canada. He said he paid
for a high-priced guide and plane to fly him into a remote area in Canada for
the express purpose of shooting a moose and bringing its antlers back to put on
the wall behind his bar. He said after days of tracking moose and fighting the
millions of mosquitoes he finally got his chance to shoot a moose with a huge
rack. He took his shot but missed. As he walked up to where the Moose was
previously standing he found only a pile of Moose Dung still steaming on the
ground. He gathered up the Moose dung and had it “mounted” in a glass covered
trophy case for his bar.
During one two-week period we had a
C-130 Guard unit on base and they flew every day on different missions. One
morning a C-130 was making an approach to the runway and said “Tower, what is
that written on the runway?” Being a smart ass I said “That would be the runway
number.” I knew he knew that, but I thought it funny that he would ask. He
replied “It’s not that, it says All Guard Pilots are Pig F____ers”. Someone in
the middle of the night had painted that in big white letters on the end of our
runway. Very funny!
The C-130s would take off in three- ship
groups and fly low level all over the Wisconsin landscape. We would get phone
calls in the tower on many occasions from local famers complaining that the
airplanes were causing their dairy cattle to panic and run through their
fences. The complaints didn’t stop the low-level flights. I asked to get a
flight on one of the C-130s and they agreed since I was an air traffic
controller. I was approved to fly on one of their three-ship missions in the
number 2 aircraft, which would be to the left and behind the lead aircraft. BTW number 3 aircraft would be to the right
and behind the lead and almost even with number 2. I need to provide you a bit
more information for this story. The main runway at Volk Field ran east/west
and the southeast end was very close to a large hill of several hundred feet
that was located just to the left of the approach end of the runway.
As we were loading the aircraft I was
told to sit on a folding metal chair right behind the co-pilot and in front of
the navigator whose position is on the right-hand side of the cockpit. I though
this very odd since I had flown on many military aircraft and usually had my
own seat with a seat belt. In addition, I did not have a headset on so did not
know they planned on using an assault take off maneuver. This is a high
performance take off that gets the aircraft as high as possible before passing
the end of the runway to help counter small arms fire. The three ship lined up
on the runway with lead starting his take off roll. Number 2 started about 15
seconds later, then number 3, 15 seconds after number 2. As my aircraft started
its take off roll I’m watching out the cockpit window looking over the
co-pilots shoulder. As the pilot rotated he kept pulling the wheel back until
the nose was pointing 45 degrees up. At that point my chair with me in it fell
back into the navigators lap where I kept my face planted until the pilot
finally pushed the nose over to level flight. At that point I knew I had been
set up because everyone got a good laugh over my situation. They eventually
joined up into a three ship V formation after airborne and flew low level for
several hours. I got to see the cows running like crazy as the C-130s flew over
at high speed at a couple hundred feet. On our return back to Volk Field we
were going to make a low approach over the runway in the V formation to give
the ground crews a show. My aircraft number 2 was tucked in close to lead, with
number 3 on the other side just as close. By this time I had been given a
headset so could hear what was going on. As we approached the end of the runway
I hear the pilot say “ What the F___!” The lead aircraft had pulled back power unannounced
and number 2 and number 3 aircraft were quickly overtaking the lead.
Immediately after the pilot made his statement he pulled back hard on the
control wheel and we barely made it over the left wing of the lead aircraft. We
couldn’t turn left away from lead due to the hill to the left of the runway. At
that point all three aircraft separated and made their individual approach to
the runway. I thanked the pilot for the ride but said I wasn’t going to fly
with them again. They just laughed. I lied and did fly on several other C-130s,
but there always seemed to be an issue like engine failure or parts flying off
the aircraft. Again, those are other stories.
During another two-week period we had
a F-100 Guard unit on base. The F-100 is a single seat fighter of the Viet Nam
era. These guys would take off and fly to a firing range not far from the base
and practice strafing runs using their onboard Gatling gun. I rode my
motorcycle up to the range one day and sat in the control tower as these guys
would make multiple runs on targets on the ground. Very cool! You would see the
bullets hit the ground then hear the rip sound of the gun from the aircraft.
The Gatling fires so fast it sounds like ripping fabric instead of a gun
firing. They would also do air-to-air attacks against a dart-shaped target
pulled behind another F-100. The dart was made from aluminum covered balsa wood
attached to the aircraft using a cable and winch system under the wing. The
F-100 target aircraft would take off with the dart snugly held under the left
wing then let it out on the cable once airborne so the attack aircraft could
shoot at the target. At the end of the mission, the target aircraft would fly
over a large open area next to the runway and release the dart, which would
land in the field and be recovered by a tractor. One day we got a call from the
target aircraft saying he couldn’t get the dart to release so was going to have
to use an emergency procedure to get rid of the dart. The procedure was for the
target aircraft to fly low over some trees on the airfield boundary with the
dart flying at the end of the cable. The goal was to catch the dart in the
trees, which would supposedly break the cable at a weak link especially
installed for this purpose. The pilot made his approach to the trees, caught
the dart as planned and then almost crashed the aircraft into the ground when
the cable made the aircraft slew violently around. He recovered and landed
safely, but I guess this procedure wasn’t used very often because it sure surprised
the pilot.
On the departure day of the F-100
Guard unit, the ground crews where loading their trucks on the ramp while the
individual F-100 aircraft were taking off to fly back home. The last F-100 to
leave was the Wing Commander and shortly after taking off he asked to make a
low approach for his troops on the ground. A low approach is usually
accomplished over the runway but not this time. The F-100 was on the far side
of the airfield, which would normally be downwind leg. After I cleared the
F-100 for his low approach he turned directly towards the airport so as to fly
over the ramp where all his troops were gathered. In addition, the control
tower where I worked was right next to the ramp. Although this isn’t what I had
expected, it was ok as far as I was concerned. What I didn’t realize until it
was too late was this was going to be a special type of low approach. As the
F-100 crossed over the runway heading towards the ramp it rolled inverted and
passed over the ramp and right next to the tower cab up side down! I could see
into the cockpit as he flew by. The troops on the ground were going crazy at
this point.
As you can probably figure out by now
we had a great time at Volk Field because discipline was almost non-existent
and the guard units were here to have fun and do crazy things. In fact, there
were several display aircraft on permanent pedestals on the field and one guard
unit got caught trying to steal one of them to take back to their base. They
had it unbolted and a crane attached when they were finally caught and told to
put it back. My friends in the 3rd Mob actually tried to steal one
of the security police trucks (each Guard unit brought their own police). As it
was being rolled away from the Security Police office they came out of the
building and started yelling. My friends jumped out of the truck and it continued
to roll down the hill and was only stopped when it went through the fence at
the tennis court. In-depth interrogation by the Security Police of all the 3rd
Mob members resulted in the thief’s not being identified.
Our summer deployment finally ended
after three months and we had to drive those damn trucks all the way back to
Oklahoma City.
No comments:
Post a Comment