Through his friend, E. J. Baldes, head of Biophysics at the Mayo Clinic, David Clark began research into the development of “G” or pressure suits. The pressure suit, required for flights above 65,000 feet were vital in saving a pilot's life if the aircraft lost pressure. Without a pressure suit to provide supplemental oxygen, the pilot had 60 seconds maximum before he became incapacitated. During his research, Clark became acquainted with a Navy flight surgeon stationed on the aircraft carrier USS Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was asked by the flight surgeon to make an ear protection device for the men on the flight deck of the carrier; they had nothing but their hands covering their ears to keep out the jet engine noise. Through that contact, Clark pursued his production of the pressure suit and the company began blitz production for the Navy.
When the end of WWII came, the company anticipated an order from the Navy to cease production. However, the order was, in fact, just the contrary and the Clark Company continued production of the pressure suit.
In 1946 the Air Force became interested in the pressure suit for its own pilots. The future of aviation had a special niche to be filled by the David Clark Company. With a budget of $20,000, the Air Force ordered 20 pressure suits from the Clark Company. Through much trial and error and reviews by Wright Patterson, a final pressure suit was approved. With modifications over the years, the Clark Company has continued to make pressure suits for the Air Force and NASA.
Until recent years, all pilots went to the Worcester, Massachusetts factory to be measured and fitted for their custom made pressure suit. Now the company has 12 standard sizes of patterns for the suits with the exception of a couple of female astronauts who had to be custom fitted due to their petite size.
The Clark Company also designs and manufacturers helmets and ear protectors with microphones. Their ear protectors are in use by military and civilian aviation pilots and flight line support personnel.
4080th SRW Physiological Support Division
The Physiological Support Division (PSD) consisted of two groups to support the U-2 pilots in their flight preparations. The Personal Equipment Group consisted of about 30 technicians and the Medical Group consisted of about 25 fully qualified flight surgeons and medical technicians. The technicians in both groups were cross-trained to support each other on TDYs. It was not unusual for only four Personal Equipment technicians to be on duty at Laughlin when all others were on TDY.
Buddy Brown beginning pre-flight physical exam with the Flight Surgeon.
Pilots scheduled for flights were given a physical by the flight surgeon on duty. (See the section Dragon Lady Doctors for additional information.) PSD operated a fully equipped kitchen and supplied the high protein meals each pilot ate prior to flight. Steak and eggs, the most common meal, was cooked on the spot and served to the pilots.
When the pilots were cleared to fly by the medical team, they came to the Personal Equipment unit where technicians assisted them in suiting up. Each pilot was assigned a locker for storing his gear—the long johns, pressure suit, parachute and helmet. Each parachute received an inspection every 90 days and was rechecked once a year.
Fully suited up, the pilots went to a room with recliners where they pre-breathed 100 percent oxygen for one hour. Once suited up, the pilot carried approximately 35 pounds of gear. The medical technicians were on hand to monitor the pre-breathing process and connected each pilot to a portable oxygen bottle for the van ride to the aircraft. When the pilot was seated in the cockpit, the technician disconnected the portable oxygen supply and connected him to the aircraft system. Then the technician went through an audible checklist to ensure that all hoses, belts, and connectors were at the appropriate settings. When the checklist was completed, the technician patted the pilot's helmet, climbed down the ladder and was replaced by the Mobile Control Officer to perform his checklist with the pilot.
Buddy Brown dressing in the long underwear worn under the partial pressure suit.
Buddy is hooked up by PSD Specialist Jessie Gamble to the seat kit system. Next procedure is pre-breathing 100% oxygen for one hour.
PSD Specialist Jessie Gamble assists Buddy with his partial pressure suit.
PSD Specialist Jessie Gamble assists Buddy with the outer garment which protects the partial pressure suit.
Buddy in the cockpit going through pre-flight check with the Mobile Control Officer.
A pilot is prebreathing oxygen while the flight surgeon performs a check of his vital signs. Photo courtesy of Lockheed Martin Co.
Technicians help the pilot secure connections on his pressure suit in preparation for the flight. Photo courtesy of Lockheed Martin Co.
A pilot arrives at the aircraft tethered to a portable oxygen tank. Once in the cockpit he will be connected to the aircraft oxygen. Photo courtesy of Lockheed Martin Co.
James W. May
Mesquite, Texas
Wife: Patricia
Naturally, all of my time at Laughlin AFB was not spent on base. I recall a fishing trip I went on with a Del Rio friend, Gordon McGonigle. The Air Force had a recreation facility at Lake Walk where we could rent boats.
Gordon really knew where to find the best fishing holes, but this particular time was rather scary. There was an upper dam and lower dam on the lake and we went to the upper dam. On the right side of the dam was a discharge tunnel about 10 or 12 feet wide, with water rushing from it into the lake. Gordon headed the boat at full speed into that dark hole in the dam. The water flowed so fast we inched our way inside about 20 feet. Our lantern was bright and Gordon tied the boat to what looked like hitching post rings on the walls. We had to use very heavy weights on the fishing line to compensate for the swift current. I had watched Gordon a few nights before make the weights from the lead in busted up old car batteries. He melted the lead and poured it into a large spoon.
We did catch a bunch of fish that time but I never wanted to go into that hole again. I don't know what Gordon does now but I heard his brother is a fishing guide at Lake Amistad. That love of fishing must run in the family.
I went fishing with a bunch of guys on the Devil's River before Lake Amistad was built. I liked to fish next to the old steam plant where the water was the clearest and cleanest I had ever seen. I caught bass, perch, crappie, catfish, garfish and even an occasional green turtle. When we got tired of fishing, we would go hiking around the countryside and look for wild javalina hogs running in packs.
James W. May, 1962.
After two years at Laughlin AFB, I was fortunate enough to meet and marry a Del Rio girl, Patricia Tabor. After a one-year courtship, we married at her preacher's home and was that a story worth telling. Sgt. Hand and another sergeant I worked with showed up drunk and crying, “James don't do it. You're messing up your life.” The preacher made them stay in the kitchen during the ceremony.
After the ceremony, we headed out on our honeymoon to Dallas. We had gotten 31 miles to Brackettville when Pat said she'd forgotten her straw hat. It went with a certain outfit, so she made me turn around and go back for it. That's 31 miles driven, 31 miles back to get the hat and 31 miles again to Brackettville, a total of 93 miles for a bonnet. Was that what Sgt. Hand was trying to tell me?
We were married one year before my discharge from the AF and in that year, I went TDY to England for four months. TDYs were rough on the married guys and families.
On days off from Laughlin AFB, everyone learned by word of mouth where to go for fun. Paul Arnold and I played billards at a pool hall next to the City Café on Main Street. We also spent time at the bowling alley. Then there was the Rita Theatre in town or the Gay 90 Drive In Theatre on the highway to the base. Between paychecks, when money was short, the trunk of my car could hold three guys who would sneak into the drive-in. I guess the theater ticket seller thought I drove a “low rider” but we never got caught. Having a car made it nice to hang out at the local restaurants that had drive-in service such as Ceasar's or the High Hat.
Another fun place I found near Del Rio
was Garner State Park which had a pavilion with a large outdoor dance floor. That's where I learned the Texas two-step.
On one three-day pass Clem Francis and a few of us guys rented a cabin on the Nueces River north of Brackettville. We spent time fishing and had a big fish fry on our last night out. During that weekend we stopped at the Devil's Sink Hole which wasn't a state attraction yet. The guys lowered me and another small guy by rope into the huge, deep natural hole. It was approximately 40 yards across and over 1000 feet deep. I was last to be brought back up, but at first the guys couldn't lift me, so they tied the rope to the rear axle of the Jeep Wagoneer and I was up and out fast. Before the Jeep was brought into the mix, I made a lot of promises to the Lord as I was hanging in space. I probably haven't kept all of them.
While on a stop over in Hawaii en route to Australia TDY, we were assigned to set up and receive our U-2s coming in to Hickam. We were all told the bad news that one plane had a “flameout” over the ocean about 500 miles out.
As the story was told to me, the pilot was asked for his coordinates so any ships in the area could do a rescue. To their amazement, he said he was coming on in. Now, I call that gliding! He would only make one pass to land which he did with all of us watching. You don't forget stories like that.
Hawaii was beautiful. A couple of guys and I went to Waikiki Beach, wearing our swimsuits under our jeans, and swam in the clear waters of the Pacific Ocean. Then donning our jeans over wet swimsuits, we went into town for a couple of very expensive beers. It was still a fun experience though.
When we departed Hawaii, we were island hopping; first to Cantoon and then Fiji. I have a very scary memory of Cantoon. The runway there is very short and with our fully loaded C-130 Globemaster, it took three attempts to get airborne. Each time the pilot would rev up the engines for a long time then the big giant would shoot off like a race car. Twice he hit the brakes with a lot of smoking and groaning from them. We would stop, turning around only a few yards from the waves coming in. After that experience, I am convinced – you pilots have brass ones!
After a fuel stop on beautiful Fiji Island, we reached our destination of East Sale, Victoria, Australia, about 200 miles southeast of Melbourne. We arrived at the end of winter and beginning of spring, October and November 1960. Their seasons are opposite of ours.
The people of Sale treated us very well. It was embarrassing being asked for an autograph. Some of their customs are a little different from ours. On my first day in town, another airman and I learned one such custom. We went into a pub for a cool one (no “cold” ones there). Before finishing our mugs, two more were set in front of us, courtesy of some blokes at a nearby table. The bartender said it was a custom to buy them one in return which we did. To make a long story short, we kept this exchange going until I'd had 7 or 8 mugs. I'm still unclear how that 19-year-old got back to the barracks. From then on, I was more careful with the ale.
Before our tour called Crow Flight VI was over I went to a sheep ranch for a big cookout of lamb chops, naturally. A local farmer took me kangaroo hunting. It was neat to see the kangaroos bouncing over fences.
Later I went on a two-day R&R to Melbourne. What a great city! There was an open house on the RAAF station for the local community, Royal Australian Air Force personnel and the press. My contribution to the event was to suit up in the high altitude pressure suit and helmet for a four-hour demonstration.
I thoroughly enjoyed that TDY; for me, it was a sad day when we packed up and returned home.
Late one day down at PSD the last U-2 pilot landed and was brought in to be undressed from his pressure suit and debriefed. Before he landed, the pilot, whom I refuse to name, was still airborne and needed to relieve himself most urgently. He got out the “pee” bottle, unzipped the flight suit but couldn't find the opening in his long-john underwear. After trying several times with no luck, he got out his survival pocketknife and cut a hole in the underwear. That's needing to go bad.
While we were undressing him, the large hole in front of his underwear had blood all around it. In his haste to take care of business, he had cut the end of his “you know what.” He insisted on no stitches and a medic just cleaned the wound and put a band aid on it. I guess that's why he got hazard pay.
My second TDY was quite different; I spent four months at Eielson AFB, Fairbanks, Alaska. I have never been so cold or seen snow that deep in my entire life.
We arrived in the middle of March and returned home in the middle of July. That's really a good time to go there because we had an opportunity to see winter, spring and part of their short summer. Experiencing 24 hours of darkness and then 24 hours of daylight was strange.
On my one day off, I went up to the ski lodge to learn snow skiing. On the bus I talked with a guy who wore a big leg cast. He said he had broken his ankle a couple weeks back when he tried to ski for the first time. That's all I needed to hear and I no longer wanted that adventure.
One day while on duty, I had to go with the pilots to watch a survival film. The film actually showed how to build an igloo by cutting snow blocks. If the weather was bad, the film said to just dig a hole in a snow bank resembling a bear den and close up the hole. The film reassured us help should be on the way. I know that our country owes a lot to these pilots for all the dangerous places they fly.
Late one day, I noticed something was causing the pogos to stay on the wings of the U-2 on takeoff. To avoid aborting a flight because of the pogo problem, I was told to hold up one wing and another airman would hold up the other wing. As the pilot started his takeoff, we were to run like h--- with him until he could balance it. We only had to run about 15 or so steps before “Kitty Hawk” took off.
When we were leaving for home at the end of the TDY, we loaded aboard the C-130 for a nine-hour flight to Seattle, Washington. Every time I looked out the windows, all I saw were snow-capped, wicked-looking mountains. About three hours out, we had one engine catch fire. The pilot shut it down, and we continued on to Seattle.
After one more hour, an engine on the other side started smoking and it was shut down. We then returned to Fairbanks. We never unloaded the plane; we slept in chairs in the base terminal while a dozen engine techs overhauled both engines for about eight hours. One of the techs showed me a burned valve from one of the engines. I asked him, “What if two engines were lost on the same side?” He said it could still fly but would need to have the load lightened.
James and Patricia May, 2004.
I was a little nervous getting back in that old C-130 so quickly, but we flew on safely to Washington and then to Laughlin. I was returning to marry my fiancé, Pat Tabor. I thank all those pilots and engine technicians for knowing and performing their jobs so well that day.
Down at the Physiological Support Division, better known as PSD, after all the flights were in, one of the U-2 pilots asked us not to undress him. He said he wanted to see if, in a survival situation, he could get himself out of it.
Well, we all stood back, gave him some room and watched what kind of looked like Houdini getting out of a straight jacket. After about 20 minutes and a lot of sweat, he asked us for help. Since this was a serious matter to him, no one uttered a chuckle until the pilot was gone.
Many unusual things happened after the U-2 pilots came in from their flights. On one occasion, a pilot returned from a flight and was getting undressed as usual. Poor fellow must have had a stomach virus because he had completely soiled his pressure suit.
I was on duty that day but I got lucky because Senior Master Sergeant Clem Francis picked my roommate, Bob Wilson, to take the suit into our latrine and clean it. The outrageously expensive suit could not be laundered. Bob cleaned on it for quite some time but Clem smelled it and sent Bob back for more cleaning. Three checks of the suit after attempted cleaning and Clem finally said, “Condemn it!”
One lazy Sunday while I was on duty alone down at PSD where we stored the parachutes and flying gear, I was called and told to hurry up and bring out
25 parachutes to our C-123 cargo plane. The plane was carrying our baseball team somewhere for a game that day.
It took me a while to get them loaded into the van and out to the flight line to the C-123. Since they were in a hurry, the ball team was told to help me get them loaded in the plane. How was I to know they thought that metal D-ring was a carrying handle? As I recall, they popped open about six parachutes before they learned that the D-ring was not a handle. I returned to PSD for more parachutes and finally sent the team on their way.
Lewis C. Nelson
Hudson, Florida
Wife: Doris
My Early Days
In November 1952 I was assigned to the 305th Bomb Wing, 366th Bomb Squadron at MacDill AFB, Florida as a personal equipment technician for the B-47 and the RB-47 Stratojet. It was my home for the next four years, and temporary duty assignments (TDY) were quite routine during that time. On one TDY I went to Sidi Slimane, Morocco, North Africa for 90 days and on another 90 day TDY to RAF Brize Norton, England. Both TDYs supported B-47 recon missions over Europe and the Mediterranean Sea in the cat and mouse game of the Cold War; some of the missions even flew over the Soviet Union. Occasionally an aircraft strayed over the border; the cat would show its teeth, and the mouse would run for home.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 20