Is it?

By Gerald Voigt

Word around the base was that there was going to be a Disaster Preparedness exercise on Wednesday. Every unit on base was making sure all their ducks were lined up, “t’s” crossed and “i’s” dotted. The Wing Commander had also deemed it a day for the Wing’s aircraft to stand down. This gave the units a chance to do some catch up, training and include them in the “exercise” without real world operations exempting them from participation. It also had underlying safety reasons too.

Late Tuesday afternoon a truck arrived at the back gate. It was expected, a shipment of munitions to be delivered to the Weapons Storage Area (WSA). It arrived via commercial contractor from the munitions manufacturer. However this shipment wasn’t exactly what it appeared to be on the surface. Several key personnel were “in the loop” as to its specific purpose. A handful of personnel were on hand to accept the vehicle and its contents, but instead of taking it to the WSA for storage it was parked on a designated portion of a taxiway called the “Hot Pad.”

The hot pad is where aircraft or vehicles were parked and guarded that contained explosives or extremely sensitive materials while they waited to be processed. Nothing too unusual about that, but it was a rare occurrence here. Security personnel were briefed that no one was to enter the airfield’s runway and taxiway area…no one…this was Standard Operating Procedure (SOP).

Yet, during the early morning hours of Wednesday morning, someone did enter. A team of Special Forces used this as their own “training” exercise. To plant demolition charges on a base to destroy the runway and key taxiways. However these demolition charges being taken from the van on the hot pad were nothing more than pyrotechnical special effects. Fireworks of sorts that once triggered would yield large explosions, smoke and fireballs into the sky.

The team worked quickly and departed the area only being seen by those Security Policemen “in the loop” who were guarding the van on the hot pad. By the time the sun rose, everything looked just as it did the day before. By eight, the van departed the base, empty.

Mid morning the daily routine was in full swing, with the exception of the daily flying operations. The aircraft units were doing a bit of house keeping and training, readying themselves for the Disaster Preparedness exercise. By mid afternoon everyone thought the exercise was going to be cancelled. It was getting to be the time of day when folks started to end their work day and go home. Everyone was hoping to end their day and escape the exercise at 3:45 PM.

At exactly 3:25 PM a flight of six RAF Tornado fighter bombers flying at tree top level flew across the base very fast. So fast was their arrival it was a total surprise to everyone when they finally were heard overhead. Each jet took a slightly different path across the base. As they passed, the pyrotechnics did exactly what they were designed to do. The explosions, flame and smoke drew everyone’s attention towards them. The tower controllers never knew of or saw them approaching, neither did the personnel working around aircraft parked on the ramp. When the explosions rocked, they didn’t know whether to dive for cover or crap their pants, some did both!

The RAF provided this “service” as part a mission scenario for a multinational bombing competition being held at a distant base. For them it was nothing more than a routine training mission.

The jets passed over the main base, climbing slowly and disappeared as fast as they had appeared. Several other smaller explosions erupted throughout the base as well. Smoke rose from their locations…switchboards and the radio nets were jammed with calls. No one could get through to anyone, it was chaos. Panic was abundant!

The Special Forces team was responsible for the “destruction” on the main base. They entered through the main gate and nonchalantly went about their business placing their “bombs” in broad daylight. No one took notice, all anyone was watching was the time ticking by, hoping to get home before the exercise would kick off.

Well it did kickoff with a BANG! Several to be specific!

As the base sirens wailed, calls from the Base Command Post to civil agencies in the area were placed informing them that this was the beginning of the scheduled exercise. The planned mutual aide responses should begin. This exercise was now in full swing and the base Public Affairs would be issuing statements to the media immediately.

Needless to say there was a sense of panic throughout the base and the neighboring community. It took several hours to get a sense of order and calm restored throughout the base. Slowly, personnel started to remember their training, the training they though boring and useless. Now they understood how important it was.

The exercise terminated ten hours later, everyone still riding a wave of adrenaline that was sparked off at the onset of the exercise from the explosions that rocked the base. For many it would mean a restless night of little or no sleep.

Later that morning in the Wing Command Post, the base’s Battle Staff and other key personnel which also included the Special Forces team Commander and his executive officer sat down for a long discussion.

The briefing wasn’t pretty. Just about everyone on the base had failed in some area. All of the little failures added together painted a very dismal picture.

At noon, the base wide debrief and critique was held at the Base Theater. Pre-selected representatives from each unit and community organizations were present. They started from the end of the exercise and played it backwards. Once they got to the portion of the debrief that was applicable only to the military a short recess was called so the civilian guest could be excused politely. Once they were gone the doors were sealed and the theater was called to attention. The briefing was now deemed “Classified.”

The Special Forces commander now took the podium. He quickly outlined “their” mission and the security deficits of the base and its personnel. The really demoralizing part of the brief came when he described the planting of a 5 gallon container, painted red with the words TNT painted across it, with wires trailing off into the bushes, set next to a cigarette butt can in front of the Base Personnel Office. No one noticed or even called any attention to it until it detonated!

Each “bomb” placed by the Special Forces team and was closely monitored by a member of the team until detonated. Had anyone raised suspicion of any of the planted devises, the whole exercise would have had a different outcome. Base personnel had been exposed to the “bombs” for more than five hours before the exercise started. But not one person did…until they all went BANG!

The debriefing lasted for more than six hours in duration. No one and I mean no one was exempt from having their ass chewed out. Everyone left tired, dazed and wondering what would have happened if this really did occur.

This story is one of fiction, or is it? I used pieces of several exercises I’ve been involved in to create this story. What it does illustrate is that being complacent can have lethal consequences. Be observant and when in doubt…take the appropriate measures to report your suspicions.

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YF-75 Merlin

Model and story by Gerald Voigt

It was to be a routine mission, a normal high altitude patrol from Malmstrom AFB, Montana to the southern fringes of the Northern Territories Province of Canada, linger there for a couple hours and return to Malmstrom.

Preflight went normally and I was snuggled into the cockpit engines up and running going through the pre-taxi checklist. I double-check each item, a force of habit since I had missed items in the past. I called the tower and advised the ground controller I was ready for taxi for departure. A female voice we all knew as Airman Cindy Strauss gave me clearance to taxi to runway 21 and hold short. I acknowledged her instructions, told my crew chief to button her up and pull the wheel chocks. In quick order he had his team of three assistants do just that and one was soon waving me out of the hanger bay. I inched the throttles up just past ground idle and released the brakes. The Merlin slowing rolled forward. As I cleared the hanger the crew chief gave me a smart salute and I returned it. It was dark. There was a light overcast in the sky tonight, which blocked all but the moonlight.

I pulled up to the hold short line at the end of runway 21, set the parking break and ran the pre takeoff checklist. Once that was complete I told ground I was ready to go. Airman Strauss gave me my departure clearance…” Air Force Zero Two Eight Four, you are cleared to destination as filed. Climb to Flight level three five zero upon departure, expect clearance to cruise altitude ten minutes after departure. Contact Spokane Center 121.7 after released by tower. Contact tower 118.0 now for takeoff clearance.” I thanked her and hit the button on my stick to go to the next preprogrammed frequency, which was the tower. “Malmstrom tower, AF 0284 holding short runway 21 ready for takeoff.” The controller replied. “AF 0284 you are cleared for immediate departure, traffic inbound eight miles.” I acknowledged “AF 0284 on the go!”

I switched off my taxi lights and inched the throttles forward. The aircraft lurched forward and I used my feet to bring her onto the centerline of the runway. As she centered up I pushed the throttles further forward until they hit the full detent. As the airspeed rapidly increased I worked the throttles through the gate and into minimum burner. With that I felt a slap on my back as the speed snapped up. At 160kts I ease the stick back and the Merlin was airborne. Gear up and I established my climb to 35,000 feet. The tower controller gave me a quick goodbye and changed frequency again. The Spokane controller already had me and cleared me to my cruise altitude and course. It was obvious he had worked me before.

I turned to a heading of 360 degrees and ease the throttles back to about 90% to conserve fuel in the climb. It wasn’t long and I was at my cruise altitude of 55,000 feet and pulled the power back to maintain a conservative cruise speed of .78 Mach. I could go faster, but it would mean burning more fuel, which meant that I would need to tanker early. More than not the tankers were just on time, rarely early.

I switched the radar from standby to active search and let it cycle for a few minutes. The computer plotted all targets and data linked with stations on the ground to compare information. All checked and no warnings. I switched to the weather mode to check the skies ahead. There were a couple of thundershowers near, but I would pass over and by them soon.

Now just west of Calgary, I called the air defense sector controller in Edmundton advising I was enroute and would be on station as scheduled. He mumbled something about the weather and a change in mission planning. I asked him to elaborate. He said he was looking for the message. After a short couple of minutes he came back with, “Your tanker support aborted shortly after takeoff. If you want fuel you’ll need to rendezvous with the off going tanker, Rancher 67 or adjust you flight plan as needed.”

I thought for a few minutes, thanked the controller and told him I would advise him. I switched to the tanker channel and called them. “Rancher 67 this is AF 284” it took three calls to get their attention. “AF 284 this is Rancher 67 go ahead.” I gave them a quick scenario and they said they were already on their way home, heading southwest, just northwest of Edmondton. I said I would be on their six in a short while; could they give me a top off? They reluctantly agreed and said to call when I needed the locator beacon turned on. I told them not to worry, they wouldn’t be hard to find.

I selected them from the traffic on the data link feed, the compute plotted an intercept heading and I turned towards them. I made a quick call to the Sector controller and advised I was going to meet the tanker and would call back when I was ready to resume my patrol.

The tanker was heading towards an area with scattered storms, some looking pretty mean. I knew it wasn’t what they wanted to do, refuel an unscheduled aircraft in an area filled with storms. So I nudged the throttles forward to close the distance a little quicker.

I was now about thirty miles away, quartering in on them, I scanned for traffic and nosed down to match their altitude. When I was about three miles in trail I called them. “Rancher 67, switch on you positioning lights and get ready, I’m almost in pre contact position.” I slipped to just aft and under their tail. The boom operator must have run to the rear of the KC-10. All the lights came up full as the boom lowered from its stowed position. I turned on my position lights and quickly ran the refueling checklist. Now ready I called the boomer.

“AF 284, in pre-contact position ready to refuel.” The boomer cleared me in. I maneuvered in to be in proper position watching the lights under the KC-10. It was starting to get a bit bumpy. “Let’s get this transfer done ASAP so you guys don’t have to bounce around in front of me” I said. The one good thing was I had an experienced boom operator. I took on a full load in record time and retarded my throttles to slow and drop away from the tanker.

“Rancher 67, thanks for the assistance, have a safe trip home”. I said.

“You too, 284.” They replied.

I watched them for a few minutes as the airspace between us increased. Once they were well clear, I increase throttle and began a climbing turn to return to my destination. Once back at my cruise altitude I called the sector controller again.

After checking in, I settled into the routine of the patrol. It was going to be another long dark mission over the middle of nothing but a cold frozen land with nothing but the light of the stars above and the deep black beneath below. On a rare occasion a flash of light would bounce off the water on a lake below. But with the overcast layer there would not be any reference from the ground.

Once I reached the area of my patrol route where I was to loiter, I did several long sweeps with the radar in various modes to see what was lurking. A Northwest 747-400 was angling southwest of me headed towards Chicago, cruising below me at 43,000 feet. I toyed with the idea of running an intercept on him, but knew it would only create an ass chewing and a ton of paper work if I did.

I made my scheduled calls to the controller in Edmonton. I think I woke him up each time. I still had an hour of patrol to go when on this call the controller released me, I think he just wanted an uninterrupted nap. I swung the nose towards home, no arguments from me. I made sure to note his name on my kneeboard.

I called the command post at home to advise my mission was released early and I was heading back an hour early and that I plan to shoot a couple approaches at Fairchild in Spokane Washington on the way home if the weather permitted.

The duty officer asked me if I took fuel from a Fairchild tanker tonight. I said “Yes, Rancher 67 was a Fairchild bird”. “They never made it home and are presumed down.” He responded. I immediately had the computer plot a course to where I left the tanker, turning towards that location.

Warmed up the digital recon cameras and put the radar to the look down shoot down mode to scan the ground for returns. I told the Command Post that I would fly a route between where I left them last and Fairchild. Then backtrack back and forth slightly east and west of that line until they were found. Hopefully a tanker could meet me or I would land at Malmstrom or Fairchild to refuel. There were no emergency locator beacons broadcasting so it was going to be a blind search. The weather was terrible. Heavy thunderstorms were working through the track area. Some now were topping 40,000 feet.

I called Spokane Center and asked for clearance to a lower altitude to begin the search. I already knew there was nothing in the area, at this late hour everything that was flying had diverted around the storms. I pressed on down to an altitude that would keep me above the mountain peaks in the area yet give me and the radar the optimum chance at painting the aircraft metals had it crashed.

It was on my second pass southward towards Fairchild from where I left the tanker originally; I got a return that looked like something. I marked the location and circled around to take a different angle on the target. Again it looked possible. I radioed the search and rescue center I was north northwest of Creston. This would give them a place to start looking once the weather broke. I now needed fuel. No tankers were available and the weather wasn’t too good here but was clearing to the west. The southern end of the storm was approaching Great Falls. I opted to land at Fairchild for fuel.

The folks at Fairchild were waiting, it was raining hard, I left on engine running while the ground crew refueled me. I took a full load. Since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be flying it was a smart choice. I restarted the other three engines as I was taxiing out for departure. I was given immediate clearance to take off by the tower. I launched and turned directly for the area I had found the return previously.

The thunderstorms were abating, yet the clouds still covered the mountains. I was glad to have a great radar system which allowed me to see where I was flying. Descending through thick clouds down into mountains isn’t what I’d call sane. As I approached the spot the radar painted the target again. Selecting the digital cameras for full spectrum and ensuring that the data link was transmitting both what the camera and radar saw back to Malmstrom. I make a quick studied the terrain and winds. It would be tricky making a low pass in this area, with the Doppler showing severe down drafts. I luckily had a great deal of power under my left hand. But Mother Nature hates to lose, so I was cautious and flew on the windward side of the area between the ridges.

I made my descent and flew about 2000 feet above the ground. The winds buffeted the aircraft a bit, but the pass was too fast and the cameras didn’t see much at all. I swung around again; this time I slowed down and took her down to 1000 feet above the ground. My left hand grasp the throttle levers, ready to slam them forward into full afterburner if I got caught in a down draft.

A tail! “I saw the tail of the KC-10!” I shouted into my mask. The cameras saw it too. As a matter of fact the radar was showing a nearly intact outline of the entire aircraft. I circled back again; this time there was a flare over the site. I passed just east of them and fired a volley of flares to acknowledge I’d seen them. I noted the exact location on the GPS and called everyone I could to advise I had found them.

The KC-10 had caught a violent downdraft in a storm cell and was literally slapped to the ground just past the apex of a ridge line. A freak occurrence to say the least. If it had been a hundred yards earlier they would have be smashed into a million pieces never to be found until after the mountain snow had melted. As it was they were caught in a pillow of snow. I then heard static on the radio, on the emergency frequency 121.5. “This is Rancher on guard, how copy? “Rancher, AF 284 copies you five by five. Say crew condition.” I inquired.

“All alive, some with severe injuries, none life threatening, as yet. But it’s wet and cold down here!” The crewman replied.

I’m on the horn getting assets in to provide rescue. You might have to wait until the storm blows through. I’ll orbit and keep a RESCAP over you. There is no ELT signal broadcasting. I informed them.

“Then how did you find us? Came a puzzled reply.

“Let’s just say the Merlin found you, I just drive.” I replied.

“Thanks. We owe you big time!” The crewman said with glee.

Just returning the favor you gave me last night I thought to myself. Glad they’re all alive.

It was another three hours before a Canadian Rescue helicopter could reach them. All were evacuated to a nearby hospital. With a story to tell.

I left as soon as the helicopter arrived on scene. I returned to Malmstrom with just enough fuel left to taxi to the hanger bay where this Merlin nested. After a fast debrief and retrieval of the data from the aircraft, I settled into a bunk in one of the back offices in the hanger and slept for several hours. When I woke everyone was looking at the digital images the ships cameras took and couldn’t believe the fate of the crew. For me, well I have a story to tell too.

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