Oddly enough, his flight to Anchorage that day was on the same airline for which his dad, Captain Nick Morgan, had worked some sixty years ago.
Everything had been fine during his dad’s duty tour until March 17, 1944, when his flight departed from Elmendorf Air Field in Anchorage and disappeared during its routine flight to Ladd Airfield in Fairbanks en route to Minneapolis-St. Paul. The flight plan and weather conditions were discussed and included reports of overcast skies and twenty miles of visibility. Over the years George could never reconcile the reported events surrounding the crash of his father’s plane, official or unofficial.
George took a drink of the bottled water Julia brought and reflected on this trip to the University Hospital at Fairbanks, anxious that it may finally reveal the mystery. After sixty-six years it was everyone’s belief that the C-47 wreckage and several bodies entombed in glacier ice had been slowly working their way down the mountain with the glacier’s perpetual movement. Early reports from the National Park Service indicated that they found the wreckage from March 17, 1944, and that it had reached a spot where they could easily gain access to it. For years they had been tracking the wreckage and had identified what was believed to be the ship’s two major sections—the fuselage and cockpit. Now, they realized that what they had been tracking was a crashed Russian P-38 and the fuselage of the C-47. The C-47’s cockpit was not part of the discovery. This news came as a complete shock. For George, it tied in to the fact that the classified army files regarding this flight had been “lost” by the army years ago.
Regardless of these revelations, however, it’s the bodies, although mostly decomposed but with portions cryogenically preserved, that would hold incredible clues to an unimaginable story. Is it possible that one of these bodies is my dad? George thought. DNA tests were being conducted. George was now sixty-six and his dad was thirty when he died. The anticipation of seeing his dad for the first time, at about half his own age, was too much to comprehend.
George’s thoughts turned toward the next several days and what he was about to experience. He relaxed as best he could for the remainder of the flight, but the stress over the years of waiting, coupled with the conflicting evidence to the story he’d long held as true, prevented a more restful flight. He was beginning to accept the fact that the truth may never be uncovered.
A small group of people representing the crash victims’ survivors were gathered quietly, drinking coffee and waiting for the officer to begin walking them through the military’s discovery. They were in a conference room at the hospital surrounded by several of the original crash-site photos taken by Bradford Washburn. George had scanned the pictures many times over the years for a survivor with the same results. Maybe today he would get his answer. He kept to himself near the back of the room to avoid discussion. He wasn’t shy or uncomfortable in crowds, just uneasy. Deep down inside he felt responsible, somehow. His father was the pilot who should have done something to save these people, he thought irrationally. He wanted to hide his name tag.
An elderly lady in her eighties approached and extended her hand. “I’d like to introduce myself. I believe you’re the son of the pilot, Captain Nick Morgan?” She was smiling and not at all accusing in her tone of voice.
“Yes. My name is George Morgan.”
“I have something that I think you’d like to see,” she said, opening a large envelope with copies of several old letters inside. “My name is Ellie May Anderson. My maiden name was Johnson. Red Johnson was my older brother.”
George’s mother, Martha, had told him many stories over the years about the fun Nick would have teasing Red because of his accent and strange way of expressing himself, and how impressed and fortunate Nick felt when given the opportunity to fly with him. His name was held in very high regard in the Morgan family. George was shocked that he felt such a strong connection so quickly. He nearly buckled with emotion and simply hugged this strange woman as if she were his own mother. He tried to explain, but simply said, “This has been a long time coming.” Tears streamed down his cheeks.
She knew how he felt. In fact, they all felt that way. They shared a connection that went beyond an earthly bond. Each person in the room had imagined that day of the crash and the possible days of suffering that followed, never finding the closure to a story that had become part of Alaskan history.
“My brother thought your dad was the most talented pilot he’d ever flown with, and as a friend, there was no better. Here, take these. It’s all there,” she said, handing him the envelope filled with postcards written by Red so many years ago.
“Thank you very much. This is overwhelming. I don’t know what to say.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention, please, I’d like to get the program under way. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Brian Longstreet, and I’ll try to be as helpful as I can. I think you’ve all met each other, and I know you have a lot of questions, so why don’t we start with the ones most important to you at this time.” The officer gestured toward a man in his eighties with his hand up in the front row.
“Why were we never told that bodies were found?”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
On occasion, many events go unexplained in times of war simply because the facts either aren’t available or don’t credibly tell the story. Sometimes the documented evidence isn’t supported by objective witnesses necessary to narrate a full understanding of what happened. Or the events, characters, and/or circumstances are so horrific or preposterous that a judgment is made that it is better for life to “just go on.” This is, of course, unfortunate, as the closure needed by most of us when confronted with a tragedy of this magnitude never happens. And a manufactured truth or a “plausible explanation” in the face of difficulty doesn’t faithfully serve history nor stand the test of time. The vacuum created leaves the door gaping wide for possibilities, hypotheses, and fiction to enter. This represents the foundation of Fatal Incident, as it was inspired by the true story of a C-47 crash on September 18, 1944. My uncle was the pilot.
Fatal Incident is one of those stories where the fictional creation of the author challenges our acceptance of what has been presented to us over the years. At the very least, it opens a door to possibilities yet unexplored. Fatal Incident by no means closes any doors regarding the events of that fateful day. It simply challenges us with the possibility that we have never been presented with a complete set of facts. Consider the following documentation of evidence and events that relate to Fatal Incident and reflect on the possible manipulation of the facts before, during, and/or after the crash of the C-47. Clearly, the ultimate recovery of the plane and any human remains may give the investigation the jolt necessary to close the door on this unsolved mystery. After sixty-five years, the Eldridge Glacier may be ready to release these facts into evidence.
The Truth as We Know It Today
The Crash
In 1943, Northwest Airlines Pilot Captain Roy Proebstle was based in Minneapolis-St. Paul and became an ATC contract pilot. Everything had been fine during his tour of duty until September 18, 1944, when his flight routinely departed from Elmendorf Air Field in Anchorage and disappeared en route to Ladd Airfield in Fairbanks. The flight plan and weather conditions were discussed and included reports of overcast skies and twenty miles of visibility. The C-47 crew was satisfied that the flight should proceed. Fifteen military passengers on furlough to Minneapolis-St. Paul, one civilian, and two additional crew members perished in a crash in the McKinley Range that was so remote that a rescue mission was never attempted and a highly contested recovery mission didn’t reach the wreckage for approximately seven weeks. All on board the plane were lost.
• Major Rudolph Bostelman
• First Lieutenant Orlando Buck
• Lieutenant Athel Gill
• Chief Warrant Officer Floyd Appleman
• Sargeant William Backas
• Technician Fourth Class Timothy Stevens
• Corporal Charles Dyke
ma
• Technician Fifth Class Maurice Gibbs
• Technician Fifth Class Edward Stoering
• Seaman First Class Bernard Ortego
• Private First Class Alfred Madison
• Private First Class Clifford Phillips
• Private Charles Ellis
• Private James George, Jr.
• Private Anthony Kasper
• Private Howard Pevey
• Roy Proebstle, Pilot, ATC
• L. H. Bliven, Co-pilot, ATC
• Karl Harris, Civilian Engineer
Note: Other than Captain Roy Proebstle, no member of this flight, or flight crew, is represented by any characters in Fatal Incident.
The Report
The initial army report, based on a few known pieces of the puzzle, suggested that the probable cause of the accident was Captain Proebstle’s decision to reroute the aircraft toward openings in the overcast skies at a higher elevation. As a consequence of this action the plane encountered a harsh downdraft accompanied by severe turbulence that forced Captain Proebstle to fly “off-instruments” into a cumulus-type cloud formation that resulted in his striking the unnamed mountain peak. The complete lack of communication by the pilot in this scenario would have been highly irregular. An unfounded report included claims that the captain was encouraged to fly off course in the pursuit of getting pictures of Mt. McKinley for a high-ranking soldier on board who was a camera buff. This explanation is also not very plausible considering the overcast flying conditions that day. What was certain is that they were severely off course by 40 degrees and 50 miles from their last reported position—whether by error or intent is unclear.
The Recovery
Despite the speculation, the fact remained that a rescue mission was never organized, and only after considerable pressure by Congressman Buck, whose son was on the plane, was a recovery effort made—one week short of two months after the crash! It was organized by the army and led by Grant Pearson, acting superintendent of Mt. McKinley National Park. The on-site efforts to locate bodies were supported by Bradford Washburn and a team of eleven other experienced climbers. It took place in an amazing spot, according to his field notes: “just about as inaccessible as you could possibly imagine.” What is known is that the plane hit a nearly vertical sheer wall about five hundred feet below the top of an eleven-thousand-foot peak—one of its motors stuck there, and the rest of the ship fell fifteen hundred feet to its resting spot on the edge of what is known as the Eldridge Glacier. The fuselage was split open like a watermelon and the wings were broken off. All very unlucky, because if the aircraft had been a few hundred yards off—right or left of its final course—it would have missed the peak completely. What forced Captain Proebstle to attempt such a narrow escape from the mountain’s grasp remains unanswered.
The Mystery
The truly remarkable part of the recovery effort was that there were no bodies discovered and, as unlikely as it may seem, there was only one small trace of blood in the plane! The recovery team reached the grim scene to find an unbelievable wreck, yet a B-4 bag belonging to L. H. Blevin contained a full bottle of whiskey, unpadded and intact. Chocolates and Doublemint chewing gum were found, as well. The plywood backrest of Captain Proebstle’s seat lay next to the B-4 bag with its safety belt undone—not broken—just undone. In fact, not one safety belt was found fastened. Playing cards lay strewn about as if a card game had been hastily disbanded. After a full day of digging by the recovery team, the plane lay uncovered. The next morning the men tunneled ten feet beneath the plane and all around a fifteen-foot section of the fuselage. In frustration, they confessed, “we have dug out the main part of the airplane … but failed to find any bodies.”
Russian Spies in Manhattan Project
• Scientific advances in nuclear chain reaction were followed nowhere more closely than in the Soviet Union—nuclear physics was an area where Russian scientists were expected to excel. Yet, their development of a “superbomb” under the code name First Lightning was tainted because of their reliance on stolen materials. There were signs in the fall of 1942 that the slumbering bomb program was being awakened with the appointment of director Vyacheslav Molotov. What convinced Stalin of the bomb project’s importance was the growing evidence coming from field agents in foreign countries. Specific knowledge existed that the United States and Britain were advancing in their superbomb development.
• Klaus Fuchs was a German socialist sent to Canada as an enemy alien. His work in physics had attracted attention, and he began working on the atomic bomb in May, 1941, in Canada. He contacted a Communist Party member about spying for the Soviet Union. In 1943, Klaus Fuchs was sent, along with fifteen British scientists, to help on the American bomb project. Harry Gold was his first Soviet-American contact. Fuchs and Gold traveled to Los Alamos extensively, working on various elements of the Manhattan Project.
• Other contacts at Los Alamos included David Greenglass, a machinist. In February, 1950, a deciphered Soviet cable from 1944 led the FBI to believe that a lower-level spy had been operating at Los Alamos. Harry Gold, then under arrest, provided the positive identification needed for David Greenglass’s arrest. He and his wife implicated Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. Both were arrested, convicted of espionage for the Soviet Union, and executed by electric chair in 1953. Later in the same year, Robert Oppenheimer voiced strong opposition to the development of the hydrogen bomb. Interestingly, though, his name was not among the Manhattan Project co-signers of a July 17, 1945, petition to Harry S. Truman to “not resort to the use of the atomic bomb in war.” At the height of U.S. anticommunist feeling later in 1953, Oppenheimer was accused of having communist sympathies, and his security clearance was revoked by the Atomic Energy Commission.
• Theodore Hall was a Harvard physics prodigy seemingly motivated by misplaced idealism. He made a near-confession in an interview for a Cold War documentary on CNN in 1998, saying, “I decided to give atomic secrets to the Russians because it seemed to me that it was important that there should be no monopoly, which could turn one nation into a menace and turn it loose on the world as … as Nazi Germany developed. There seemed to be only one answer to what one should do. The right thing to do was to act to break the American monopoly.”
Japanese A-bomb Design
• Former Atlanta Constitution reporter and army intelligence officer David Snell of the 24th Criminal Investigation Detachment in Korea authored a report in 1945 for the International Military Tribunal of the Far East, which stated that Hideki Tojo had planned to wage nuclear war if his scientists had been successful. Japan’s atomic bomb project was started in 1938 and grew to a significant standing at Nagoya, Japan. Its removal to Konan, Korea, (now in North Korea and where Japan’s uranium supply was said to exist) was necessitated when the B-29s began to lash industrial cities on the mainland of Japan. Snell alleged that the Japanese had successfully tested a nuclear weapon, called Genzai Bakudun, near Konan before being captured by the Russians. Japan’s test of the atomic bomb three days prior to the end of the war matched the cataclysmic outcome of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Konan area was under strict Russian control after its capture and the Japanese scientists who developed the bomb were sent to Moscow and tortured for their knowledge. According to Mr. Papps, an OSS officer, the diagram of the Japanese atomic bomb was “just like ours and very workable, except for the firing mechanism.” Snell claimed that he had received his information from a Japanese officer who had been in charge of counterintelligence at Konan.
Missing Air Crew Report (MACR) 8878
• The National Archives and Records Administration replied in January, 2006, that a search of army air force records for mission reports for any ATC unit came up empty. The Office of the Quartermaster General identified the MACR number matching this aircraft as 8878. The original 8878 paper files were reported as missing during a preservation effort to copy all files to microfiche. This was not considered a denial under the Freedom of Informa
tion Act because the records in their custody did not include the information requested.
As of November, 2010, the bodies and aircraft remains from the crash on September 18, 1944, still remain in the Eldridge Glacier. There is no resolution, only the tragedy shared by so many families. In ending these notes I would like to share an excerpt from a tribute written by New York Congressman Ellsworth B. Buck in 1944 in remembrance of his son, Orlando John Buck.
MOUNT MCKINLEY IS VAST. QUICK STORMS ASSAIL HER LOFTY SIDES AND SCREEN HER LESSER PEAKS THROUGH WHICH A PLANE MUST FIND ITS WAY TO REACH ITS DESTINATION. THIS ONE DID NOT. IT SETTLED TO A RESTING PLACE HIGH ON A SLOPING FIELD OF SNOW THAT GIVES BIRTH TO A GLACIER. THERE FEET OF MEN HAD NEVER TROD. THEY NEVER WILL AGAIN. IN THAT COLD UPPER WILDERNESS SNOW FALLS AND NEVER MELTS. THEY COVERED HIS BODY GENTLY, HIDING IT SECRETLY, FOREVER. HE LIKED THE COLD AND THE SNOW. UP THERE SNOW IS CLEAN, AND SO WAS HE. AS FAR AGAIN ABOVE THAT RESTING PLACE TOWERS THE MOUNTAIN. I MIGHT THINK OF THE MOUNTAIN AS HIS MONUMENT WERE THERE NOT ANOTHER MONUMENT HE BUILT HIMSELF WITHIN OUR HEARTS. THERE HE LIVES.
ELLSWORTH B. BUCK
SEPTEMBER 30, 1944
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As you now know, Fatal Incident is a fictional account of authentic Proebstle family history. Roy Proebstle and my father, Leonard Proebstle, were brothers and played their roles as Nick and Bud as I imagined them. While we may never know what happened during that flight, I was very fortunate to learn, first-hand, about the relationship between Captain Roy Proebstle and his wife, Millie (Proebstle) Onstad. It all came about in an interview with Aunt Millie several years ago in Minneapolis. My wife, Carole, and I spent a delightful afternoon learning about their life together, and the events and emotions surrounding the crash. The postcards used in the story were actual cards written in Roy’s hand that she had saved. They were precious to her and were changed very little in the telling of the story. I am very grateful to Aunt Millie for her shared experiences and the connection it made for me while writing the book.
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