Oh my God. These guys aren’t going to make it.
Inside BISON 82, the acrid, bitter smoke inside the cockpit was agonizing to the flight crew, and the visibility to fly the jet was severely limited. The pilots attempting to land wore their oxygen masks per the procedure, but could not see anything inside or outside. It was a cruel joke that they were airborne still, and the entire aircrew wished to God they would land safely.
With each passing moment, the fire ate away at the airframe with so much fuel to feed it. And with the wiring burned up now, and destroyed intercoms and radios, in addition to not being able to see each other, each aircrew member had communications cut off from his fellow squadron mate.
They had pulled all the cockpit T-handles, shooting fire retardant chemicals into the fire in hopes of putting it out. It also cut off fuel to each engine, with the thinking that it would stop feeding the fire more fuel to burn.
Approaching the runway on partial instruments without being able to see the runway environment to land meant disaster lurked. They could barely talk, see, or hear.
“Can you see the runway yet? Can I flare? Can you see it?” screamed the aircraft commander through his mask. “Can you see it?” he screamed again, tasting the biting metallic smoke that covered his face. The noxious fumes engulfed the cockpit.
“I can’t see anything! I’m deaf and blind! Got nothing but a few cockpit instruments,” the co-pilot yelled back. “Where the hell is the runway?”
“Are these even accurate?” the pilot yelled back. “The loss of electrical power?”
Having an electrical failure with zero visibility conditions was about the worst thing a pilot could have in the cockpit. They were, essentially, helpless.
“Flare! Flare! Runway is here!” the co-pilot yelled upon seeing the ground rush up at him suddenly. He looked quickly at what the pilot was doing, then grabbed his arm rests tightly and jammed his body back in his seat.
He ripped off his oxygen mask at the last second. “Runway!” he screamed. It was the last word he would ever speak.
Chapter 15
Niagara Air Base
At that moment, BISON 82 had two of its three tires touched down on the runway, but the right-wing tip got caught in the ditch just to the right side of the runway pavement. The KC-135 spun around, then tumbled nose over tail due to the unbalance. Because it held so much jet fuel, it didn’t take much for it to explode into a gigantic fireball. The heat pressure flash was felt along the flight line, rocketing past the congressman and Grace standing with the uniformed leadership on the ramp.
“Oh, my God!” Grace yelled, as her face warmed when the pressure and heat blew past her and through the nearby hangar doors.
Hundreds of other airmen from the base were in front of the hangars now, watching the mishap take place live. Anyone missing the notification of the first mishap was outside because of hearing about the second one. The thick smoke climbed hundreds of feet into the air while the cameras rolled.
The rumble of the aircraft impact sounded like a thunderstorm, and was heard for miles around.
Ford got on the phone right away and spoke with the operations duty officer, sharing that they had a second mishap on their hands. The Niagara officers inside the building broke out a second set of mishap binders, executing checklists that involved procedural steps from first aid, first responders, to Crash, Fire and Rescue from outside the airbase community. One of the later steps was to call Air Force Reserve Command so they could send out mishap investigators.
Richard stood outside on the flight line wearing his green camouflage uniform, watching the commotion. He acted horrified at the mishap and connected a look with Bruce across the tarmac. They passed a subtle nod, so small that no one would have noticed.
Bruce stood with his hands on his hips. “Colonel, I’m sorry to see this. Looks like a bad loss of lives. Loss of two aircraft. Puzzled as to what’s going on today.”
Rapidly realizing his tone and his words may be out of line, he spoke up a second time. “I know this must be a sensitive time for the men and women of western New York. Please let me know if there’s something I can do to support our men and women of the Niagara.”
The fire took some time to put out, so the congressman let them get to work. After the leadership shook their hands, the delegation departed the base.
Colonel McNew walked over to Ford and put her hand on his shoulder. She was sympathetic and understanding in her conversation with Ford as the firefighters extinguished the blaze.
“This was the final punch in the gut for the loss of life. Unfortunately, also trying to keep the base open,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Two mishaps in the same day. Aircrew deaths. Just awful. I hope we can get to the bottom of what’s causing this. Just terrible about the situation. Ford, I am truly sorry. We will figure out the cause, okay? Tackle this head on.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I’ll stay in close contact as the hours go by,” Ford said.
The last step Ford had to tackle was to ensure the names of the aircrew were accurate. This was the beginning of the personal pain of being in a leadership position; he knew all of the aircrew, their spouses, and their kids personally. He’d been to some of their homes, played golf, flown alongside them in the cockpit.
It was a terrible loss for the Niagara team.
Grace went her own way in her car as the congressman rode back to Buffalo in his own sedan, driven by his driver. The incident had the congressman’s full attention, and he wanted to make it known to Ray Parker via text that he was on top of things.
Anderson: “You have the news on, Ray?”
Ray: “Brucie what you got goin on”
Anderson: “I asked, did you have the news on?”
Ray: “Nah what you got”
Anderson: “Put it on. Now. Local.”
Ray: “Yeah i got it on now yo is that your business the thing you been working on”
This guy. Dummy. Doesn’t use punctuation. Bruce shook his head yes.
Anderson: “Yeah, exactly. Something we’ve been working on. Plan is coming together.”
Ray: “Ok im going to send you an invite for a meeting soon need you to meet some people”
Anderson: “I’m busy.”
Ray started laughing to himself and checked his camera roll. He went through a few pics and found the one he wanted. He attached it to the text.
Ray: “no, you aint busy”
Bruce looked at the phone after it vibrated, saw the picture, then put it down and closed his eyes out of embarrassment and guilt.
This better work, he said to himself quietly. The pungent smell of manure slipped into the sedan from the nearby farm they were passing, and he rubbed his nose. Bruce then rubbed his face as the stress and reality of the situation sunk in.
We just destroyed two military jets and killed four aircrew. We killed them. Did it have to come to this?
Chapter 16
Squadron Offices, Niagara Air Base
Ford sat in his squadron office the next morning and let out a long breath. He followed up with another set of quick texts to his parents, telling them he and Charlie were doing ok, working through the crisis.
Emily had sat up with him last night as he struggled to make family notifications in person. It was tough to do in a social media world, as all the families knew of the details before his arrival.
Ford had large, dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping. He looked and felt awful, reminiscing of the time he spent under the gun attempting to survive in India years ago.
Ford also spent time that morning responding to the unique texts coming in from the Pentagon, arriving under an encrypted text Peanut Light system he had used in the past. It ensured secure communication between himself and others on his former DIA leadership team.
The Peanut Light texts came from Under Secretary
of the Air Force Calvin Burns, in addition to Mark Savona, both old friends from DIA. First, they sent their condolences on the loss of life, something that was a tragedy to the entire Defense Department team. Then, they extended their personal support for Ford.
Both Cal and Mark were interested in knowing if anyone on base had witnessed anything peculiar before the mishap, asking if Ford thought the mishaps were perhaps caused by a foreign intelligence service. They both thought it was odd to have two mishaps back to back, and were lending their help, if needed.
“Could this be payback for certain incidents caused by the U.S. in the past?” Cal asked. The three of them had a quick text conversation, but Ford didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary. Washington had no specific information, and they were asking on a hunch based upon their history together. Either way, Ford was thankful they reached out to him during such a difficult time.
The Niagara Air Base fire chief was down the hall in the Ready Room, visiting and extending his sympathy, a respectful gesture from fellow brothers of the base family. The complete loss of life for four aircrew on board was just unbearable – two pilots and two boom operators, plus a total loss of the aircraft.
Air Force Reserve Command Headquarters, Robins Air Force Base, Georgia, upon hearing of two potential mishaps in one day, with a loss of lives, made a decision to send their best investigator out as soon as they could.
A few hours later, Colonel Zeke Ziehmann was assigned as the lead mishap investigator. The moment Zeke heard it was Ford’s squadron, he grabbed his mishap investigator partner Grape and made his way up north via their C-21 Learjet 35 aircraft.
Ford worked through the long day with his own Mishap Team, generating a list of witnesses and experts before Zeke’s arrival. He knew that quite a few Reservists would have to be interviewed to help in determining what had happened, in addition to a variety of administrative tasks. The casualty officer was already making the proper follow-up arrangements, and Ford would put on his list teammates from operations, maintenance, and admin, ensuring that he would help Zeke as much as he could.
Zeke and his team would look into individual actions of the aircrew, covering physical and psychological potential errors. On the local conditions side, they would look into human factors, weather, time, and pressure for operations and maintenance, aircraft records, fatigue, systems knowledge, teamwork, and squadron culture.
Ford’s phone rang in his office as he was typing on the computer. He saw the caller ID and hit the speaker button. “Hi, Richard.”
“Hello, Ford. Know you’re busy. I don’t want to make this any longer than I have to. I will just say what I have to say, and you can do what you want with it.”
Ford squinted his eyes, stopped typing, and put the handset to his ear. “Go ahead. Say what?”
“This is difficult to even pass to you, but I’ll just share what I saw,” Richard announced, clearing his throat in an odd way.
Ford wondered what he was up to. We just had two mishaps… what are you calling about?
“Need to report to you that I saw something. One of your pilots was down here snooping around the aircraft last night.”
“Snooping around? You mean looking around at our aircraft, or someone was doing something sinister?”
“Not sure just yet, but we don’t get that many pilots down here in the maintenance squadron.”
“Understand, Richard. Well, who did you see?”
“Your brother, First Lieutenant Stevens. He was last seen snooping around the maintenance hangar. He was poking his head into the aircraft compartments. Engines. Cockpits. He was outside on the flight line and asking a lot of questions.”
“I don’t see an issue with that. He’s a new pilot. Just looking around, I guess?”
A pause.
“He was pretty bitter about you being the squadron commander, actually. He was complaining to some of the enlisted guys about you. I don’t know, just relaying it on.”
“Relaying what on?”
Another awkward pause.
“I don’t recall your brother being in the maintenance squadron. He’s assigned to you… not me. He’s a pilot, right?”
“Of course. There’s no policy I know of that prevents him from looking at aircraft he flies, correct?”
Ford was getting defensive. “What are you getting at?”
“He was over in the maintenance hangars complaining, appearing disgruntled, about serving under you while climbing around the jets. Ford, he was the last soul spotted inside and outside both aircraft.”
“Okay…”
“Well, maybe… maybe he did something that contributed to the takedown of the jets.”
Whoa. Hold everything. Ford’s temper was beginning to boil.
“Richard, are you for real? This is my brother we are talking about.”
Ford went into protection mode of his brother rather than listen attentively as the commander. It was a fine line to walk.
“Well, Richard. I heard that you voted down his application and interview when he applied to be a pilot here. Also, that you don’t like pilots ever since you tried to be one and failed at it. Is that part of your accusation? You don’t like him because you knew he was the squadron commander’s brother?”
Ford stood now in his office, his phone up to his ear and the other resting on his hip. He was already tired and cranky, and Richard set him off.
It seemed like Richard didn’t anticipate the continued push back. “No… no, that’s not it, Ford. I didn’t feel Charlie would make a good officer or pilot at Niagara. Too, ah, unfocused on his previous jobs. And, well, I saw him in the hangars and on the flight line. I saw him with my own eyes down on the hangar floor and outside on the flight line, okay? Factual, not opinion.”
I can’t believe he is accusing Charlie of causing a mishap. Charlie contributed to this?
“Just worry about yourself, Richard. I’ll pass this on to the investigators. You should, too,” Ford said in a loud tone, then slammed the phone down as hard as he could.
Wham!
With that, he broke the ear piece and it slid across the desk and hit his pen caddy.
It had been awhile since Ford was this sensitive about work. How could Charlie be involved? He’d have to have Zeke look into it without him being tangled, and excuse himself from the process. Steamed, Ford paced around the office, looking at all the pictures on the wall. He knew he was hot, so he tried to do one of his breathing techniques to stay calm. He sat, then got up again to look at some of the photos on his wall. Doing two circles around his desk, he sat again. Richard. What the hell is he talking about?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Ford’s door was shut, and upon hearing the knocks, looked at the clock to see what time it was. The timing couldn’t be worse after hearing the news from Richard, as next up on his schedule was a press call with the public affairs officer. Ford assumed there was never a good time to meet the press after a squadron had a mishap, but it was best for the public and Air Force Reserve to be as transparent as possible. She came into his office on schedule.
“Hi, Ford. I’m sorry we have to meet again under these pretenses, but I have two local news crews outside from downtown Buffalo, in addition to two print newspaper reporters. One from the News with connections to the Associated Press, and a local reporter from the Gazette. Are you ready for interviews this morning?”
“Give me a minute, will ya? Come on in and close the door.”
“Yeah, Ford,” she came in and sat after closing the door. “How are you holding up?”
“This is a tough go. Terrible tragedy. Horrible loss of life. I just played golf with the guys last week over at the country club. Knew these guys well.”
“Understand, Ford. I really do,” she told him, hesitating. “We’ll just talk to the press in a few minutes, off-camera to start… be honest with th
em. They will know your feelings. As a review, just tell them the investigators are looking into all aspects of the situation, it was just as you said, a tragic loss of life, and will work hard on finding the cause of the mishap. We extend our sympathies to the families today, knowing they have lost loved ones during this most tragic time.”
Oh, my God. How can I go on record, on camera, if Charlie may have had something to do with this?
Chapter 17
Stevens Home, Lewiston, New York
A few tough days had passed and Ford did everything to hold it together. From the press to the Generals to upcoming funerals, Ford was exhausted.
“Tell me the truth, Charlie!” Ford yelled at him in the basement, his voice booming all the way upstairs to Emily.
The two brothers were facing each other in a stand-off, and they were angry.
“I need to know! I need to know right goddamn now. We lost airplanes. Guys were killed, Charlie!” Ford shouted.
“Ford, no. No. I was not involved. That’s the truth,” Charlie told him, one arm up and holding him back.
Ford hit him in the face with his fist, and Charlie fell back. Ford pushed him down on the floor and attempted to get on top of him.
“You son of a bitch. Those were my aircraft. My aircrew!”
“I had nothing… nothing… to do with it!” Charlie yelled in the struggle.
They rolled around on the floor like wrestlers and knocked over a small wooden end table with a ceramic lamp and vase. The sound of breaking glass was heard, as the fragments scattered across the floor. Charlie got on top of Ford and hit him back, just like they did when they were young.
“Get… the hell… off me,” Charlie shrieked. “Ford, cut it out, I was on the damn aircraft with the fire, Ford! Ford! I didn’t light up my own aircraft!”
Ford outweighed Charlie due to his football days and wasn’t a force to fool around with, but Charlie was quicker. Months of emotion from the burden of leadership was coming out of Ford, including his feelings about his recent DIA missions.
The Buffalo Pilot: A Ford Stevens Military-Aviation Thriller (Book 3) Page 12