One day Bo Reeves, a RB-57 driver, asked me to ready an aircraft for him with “splash fuel;” he wanted the plane as light as possible. That day we observed a U-2 that took off and headed for the heavens like a homesick angel. “Pretty good,” we thought. “Now, Bo, take that 57 skyward.” Bo was on his brakes winding up his engines when Colonel Wyman, our Squadron Commander, unobserved by me walked up and slapped me on the shoulder. He said, “Burroughs, how much fuel did you put in that plane?” I told him and he responded, “You fool. Don't you know that won't cover the sump pumps in a climb out?” He raced for his staff car to chase down Bo just as he released the brakes.
In about 500 feet the bird was airborne then nose up. As Bo later told us, at 13,000 feet directly above his takeoff point, he decided he better level off while he still had fuel feeding the engines. We declared the 57 the unofficial winner, but Bo and I were declared losers for the day by Colonel Wyman.
Colonel Beauchamp replaced Colonel Wyman as Squadron Commander. His office on the second floor of the squadron operations building faced the big hangar doors. One day Colonel Beauchamp called the Operations Officer and me into his office with a complaint. The 35-gallon garbage containers clustered on the ramp were used to collect and separate various pieces of metal. The Colonel didn't like their appearance and he wanted those cans painted. Sergeant Murphy in my unit had wanted to transfer to the U-2 squadron, but because he was an outstanding Crew Chief, I turned down his request. I called him in and offered to approve his transfer if he could pretty up those cans that belonged to Maintenance. The next morning when I arrived at the hangar, I was horrified to see the cans. They were an indescribable color, something resembling baby vomit. It didn't take long before I had a call to report to Colonel Beauchamp. I was sure my career was on the downhill slide. The Operations Officer was also there and we reported to the Colonel. To my utter amazement, the Colonel said how pleased he was with the appearance of the cans and he directed the Operations Officer to do the same with his garbage containers. After this brief meeting, I found Sergeant Murphy and asked him what paint he had used on the cans. His answer: “All the left over paint in all the cans in the paint locker, blended together to give that ‘beautiful’ tone.” It worked and he got his transfer to the 4028th SRS.
One day two of our most experienced pilots were doing touch and go landings in B-57Cs, landing at the south end of the runway, then rolling on again for a takeoff. There was a rise near the south end of the runway, putting it out of sight to those of us watching from near the hangar. On one approach one 57 touched down out of our sight. Then we heard the power poured to the engines but no plane appeared over the rise in the runway. The persistent sound of power but no visible plane was an ominous sign. I grabbed a vehicle and raced to the south end of the runway. Lo! A perfect “wheels up” landing!
A much chagrined crew, Keith Sims and Al Simpson, admitted the belly landing was so smooth they didn't realize at first they were wheels up. The timing of this incident was poor to say the least. The nearly two hours it took to clear the runway added to General McConnell's already infuriated state of mind. His plane circled overhead waiting to land for his first visit to the 4080th SRW since taking command of 2nd Air Force at Barksdale. The incident, combined with several earlier U-2 accidents, resulted in Colonel Zemke's dismissal as Wing Commander. He was replaced by Brigadier General Austin Russell.
In September 1958 Colonel Swofford, Major Stu Spragins, Captain Yates and I went to Taiwan to affect the turnover of two RB-57s to the Republic of China Air Force (ROCAF). Each day we held classes with a translator to teach the Chinese maintenance troops how to look after the aircraft. All the Chinese officers spoke English, but none of the enlisted men did. Spragins worked with the Chinese pilots who had received training in the RB-57s back in Texas. Colonel Gabreski, a WWII ace, arrived with a squadron of F-104s. Members of his squadron had some pretty unkind things to say about our “big winged gliders.” One day while Colonel Swafford was occupied somewhere else, we prevailed on Stu to make a max takeoff to show what our bird could really do. The F-104 drivers stood open-mouthed in astonishment. From then on, there were no more smartass remarks from them about our birds.
The Chinese pilots hosted a dinner for the four of us US officers and revealed their great sense of humor. Each food dish was brought to the table after a round of toasts to each other. Then one of the Chinese pilots would raise his glass and give a toast to the new dish. The Chinese were particularly jubilant because they had shot down four MiGs with their F-84s that very day. When the next dish arrived, one of the Chinese called for a toast to the new serving, MiG21. I asked what that meant and my host responded, “Dead duck.” And duck it was, a tasty dish indeed.
Interestingly, the Chinese had a couple of large gun emplacements near the end of the runway. To ensure no Communist Chinese maneuvered their way on base trying to steal an F-84, the ROCAF installed a system of lights from the tower: green light meant the plane was cleared to go, red light meant shoot the plane down immediately.
We had replacements coming for each member of our detachment. Colonel Swofford had arranged for a building to use as a barracks that was located near Taoyuan Air Base, about 25 miles out of Taipei. When the new guys arrived, I had a GI bus take them to the hotel. The hotel was already full, mostly with GI's and their girlfriends. I had to distribute the poor innocent fellows fresh from Texas into a couple of rather unsavory hotels. The next morning they regaled me with lively stories; they said it was the first time they had ever been billeted on per diem in a “cat house!”
Back at Laughlin, I watched as a RB-57 piloted by Bob Schueler came in for a landing. While still rolling in front of Base Operations, the right wing slowly drooped and fell to the ramp. I think this incident precipitated the demise of the Black Knight program. In due time the RB-57s were assigned to other organizations such as the weather service. When the last of them left Laughlin, the flight line maintenance operation was consolidated into one squadron with a branch for the U-2s and a branch for base flight aircraft. Forrest “Whip” Wilson became the Squadron Commander.
While he was commander, Forrest promoted a landscaping improvement project for the desolate, barren “caliche” soil that surrounded the hangar. Our coffee fund bought oleanders and other plants plus grass seed. The result was such an improvement that it inspired like efforts around other buildings, notably the 4028th Operations building. Pilots contributed to help improve the appearance of the grass. That improvement inspired the production of an anonymous treatise spelling out the procedures to follow in removing weeds from the grass. For example, grasp weed tool, hold at 40 degree angle to ground, insert at root of weed, remove weed, etc. The commanding officer of the 4028th was not amused.
What was the price of maintenance? I had a call about midnight from a Crew Chief who informed me they had damaged a U-2 tail wheel strut while moving it. If they had to go through supply to get parts, they feared the repercussions. However, there was an alternative. Field Maintenance had a welder and a sheet metal specialist who said they could fix it quietly if I approved, and if I sweetened the deal with a case of beer. I made a trip to the San Felipe area of Del Rio and found a bar where a case of Mexican beer could be bought for about $3.50. The beer stayed in my car until the repair job was done. Sometime around 3:00 AM the job was finished and the beer was duly delivered. That was the last we heard about the incident.
In mid-September 1960 when the Del Rio area received a storm warning, five U-2s were airborne. They were directed to Laredo AFB and I was instructed to get a team together to go to Laredo to prep them for the return flight the next day. We drove through the night to reach Laredo with several flight line mechanics and a couple of medical personnel. Because Laredo did not have pogos to support the U-2 wings, Operations there dispatched a bunch of Second Lieutenants in flight training to support the wings and push the aircraft all the way to the parking ramp. At the parking area, they used 55 gallon drums under each wing ti
p skid, then used 50 pound sacks of fertilizer to hold the wings down in the event of high winds. They were unaware, though, the damage the sacks of fertilizer could do to the aluminum surface of the wings.
We brought pogos with us from Laughlin and they were installed as soon as we arrived. It turned out that the base had planned an Open House the next day for local folks in the Laredo area. Having the U-2s come in unexpectedly made their day. They got the word out to local residents by radio and flyers. Saturday morning was a beautiful sunny day and visitors thronged the flight lines. The pilots and I decided to give them a good show. The Personal Equipment crew did everything with a flourish. I borrowed a flight line van for our “acting” Line Chief to go through all the motions of preflight with each Crew Chief who then saluted the pilot. I went from plane to plane, trying to look important. Each takeoff was a max effort event for benefit of the visitors. We were rewarded with a lot of “ohs” and “aahs.”
On another weather encounter Bill Shuman was flying near the base and reported that some strong winds were headed our way. For some reason his report was not acted upon, and those of us along the flight line watched as harsh winds buffeted the parked U-2s which were not tied down. A couple of them were pushed around and banged into each other resulting in some skin damage. After that dire incident, all U-2s not requiring work in the open had to be hangared. This imposed a heavy burden on Maintenance. They shuffled aircraft to fit in the hangar and removed those scheduled for flight each day.
An additional task was levied on me to check with the Weather people every evening to assure that the flight line was in shape for whatever winds or rain may be forecast. I usually did it by phone, but one evening I walked to Base Operations where the Weather people prepared their forecasts. Complex charts hung on the walls, teletype machines clacked away and maps covered the desks. I asked the “head honcho” what he had for the forecast. He studied the wall charts and gave me a “Hmm.” He walked to one of the teletype machines, looked at it while it typed and then gave me a double “Hmm.” He consulted with one of the other guys there and shuffled some papers around on a desk. Finally, he walked over to a door that opened to the rear of the building, stepped out, looked up to a perfectly clear sky, then said, “Major, I don't think you have anything to worry about tonight.”
One day Sergeant Fred Covert and I went to check equipment inside a small hangar whose doors opened to the flight line. The doors were only opened about 10 feet and, as we discussed a problem, a tug used to tow aircraft went chugging past the opening. To our absolute amazement, no one was driving it! We both raced for the door opening to catch the wayward tug before it rolled toward an aircraft. Troops were running from several directions to catch the tug. Fortunately, one guy jumped aboard and brought it to a halt just yards away from an aircraft parked on the ramp. I recall that someone got a good chewing about properly setting the brakes on the tug.
Taiwanese Air Force pilots were trained in the U-2s at Laughlin. One of these pilots was on a night mission over New Mexico when he had a flameout. Futile efforts to restart cost him considerable altitude so he referred to his flight manual to locate a suitable landing strip. He chose a strip that had minimum facilities, and in the darkness of the rugged New Mexico desert, he made a silent landing. There was only one light on in a single building. With one wing tip on the ground, he managed to get himself disconnected and exit the plane. He headed toward the light but he was still in his pressure suit and bubble helmet. As he approached the building, he could see a man seated at a desk pouring over paperwork. The Taiwanese pilot entered the door and the building occupant looked up in disbelief. “My God,” he said, “If the Chinese have taken this place, they've surely taken the whole West Coast!”
SAC had a management system applied to every squadron which awarded points based on the squadron mission. Every month points were totaled and the Wing Commander got all the Squadron Commanders together to review the standings. The squadron with the fewest points had the “honor” of tethering a goat in front of its headquarters for the coming month. One month the Hospital Unit was awarded the “honor” and the goat was transferred to the hospital commander. For a couple of weeks, we all noticed the goat grazing whenever we passed the hospital and then soon forgot about it. About the third week into the month, the hospital folks put on a feast around the Officers’ Club pool featuring “cabrito,” barbequed goat. It took a while for it to sink in; we had all eaten the goat.
In January 1962, Colonel Paul Rix and I were sent to Guam to assess facilities for handling three U-2s at Andersen AFB. Paul established needs for the Operations part of the planned detachment and I sought facilities for the required ground equipment. One facility designated for our use was a T-hangar originally built to accommodate one large aircraft except its tail would extend through a cutout area in the doors. It could house three of our U-2s. I asked the civil engineers what wind velocity it would withstand. They spent a day going through their old “as built” drawings to finally give me a response—135 knots. This went into my final report back at Laughlin. Several months later, we had a three-plane detachment at Andersen and a powerful typhoon headed for the island. Forecasters erred on the projected winds until it was too late to evacuate the U-2s. The typhoon hit with winds in excess of 140 knots. One of the large hangar doors fell inward and damaged two U-2s.
In September 1962 concern arose over the Soviets shipping some weapons into Cuba. One dark night I called my Maintenance crew to get three U-2s prepared immediately for a takeoff. I alerted the Line Chief and crews for those aircraft. It started to rain and all of us at the flight line were soon soaked. We received a directive to tow the planes out to the end of the runway where they would be positioned for takeoff. The Physiological Support Division guys got the pilots to the planes about the time the rain became a “gully washer.” With all the electrical cables exposed to rain, I feared someone would be electrocuted; but the hookups and startups went well. After the first plane was off, a search was mounted for the pogos that were left in deep puddles of rainwater on the runway. We wasted a lot of time searching for the pogos. We decided to remove the remaining pogos on the waiting aircraft; ground crew held the wings and raced along with the plane until the wings maintained lift on their own. This procedure worked well and within a short time all three aircraft were airborne and became the first U-2s involved in the Cuban crisis.
The SAC Inspector General team made its first full-blown inspection visit with a group who was not fully aware of our mode of operation. Because of the frequency of TDY's, usually comprised of three U-2s and support crew, I maintained a board with all ground crew members’ names, aircraft numbers, and personal data such as whether the wife was pregnant or sick. This added bit of information enabled me to select crews that were available and ready to go on a moment's notice. The board resembled a typical organization chart but that's where the similarity ended. The Lieutenant Colonel member of the SAC team assigned to Maintenance found some things he didn't like, but he reserved most of his wrath for the TDY chart.
The Lieutenant Colonel and I walked out into the hangar still arguing about my need for the TDY board. He was insisting that our flight schedule should be firmed up so many days in advance so that everyone knew well ahead what was coming up. He quoted regulation SAC 66-12.
One of the U-2s was parked in the hangar and we circled it while he decided he would go to Maintenance Control and straighten out this scheduling matter. While he belabored the issue, a Flight Chief came up and asked us to clear the area; the aircraft we circled had to be prepared for a special mission. “No, it was not scheduled for a flight,” I told the Inspector, “But when SAC Headquarters said it must go, then it would.” With that said, he just threw up his hands and walked out of the hangar. That's the last we saw of him.
James E. (Soup) Campbell
Mifflinburg, Pennsylvania
Wife: Linda
From 1958 to 1973 I supported the U-2 program with the 4080th SRW at L
aughlin AFB and then with the 100th SRW at Davis Monthan AFB. I served as Crew Chief and later a Line Chief. I had an opportunity to see a lot of activity with the Wing and I worked with a lot of good men.
It was an unwritten rule that whenever a pilot blew a tire on the aircraft, he owed the Crew Chief a case of beer. We were in Alaska in July 1962 when Major Rudolph Anderson blew a tire on his assigned aircraft. Sure enough, he paid up promptly and I shared with the rest of the crew.
In 1963 at Davis Monthan, one of the Taiwanese students crashed a U-2 and bailed out safely. He later was assigned another flight on the day before Thanksgiving and subsequently reported to the Tower, “Flameout, bailout.” Before the Tower had a chance to tell him to glide the U-2 in, he had already bailed out. I spent Thanksgiving Day picking up pieces of the aircraft over a huge area of the Arizona desert.
In February 1964 I was at Davis Monthan and I passed the Maintenance shack as I left work about 4:30 p.m. I was asked if I wanted to go on a ten-day TDY and I was instructed to get the other guys on the crew to be back at 6:30 p.m. I rushed to the mess hall to get the rest of the crew and we reported back to the flight line on time.
We loaded the aircraft until midnight and the KC-135 tanker that transported the 30 or so support crew took off at daylight. We arrived in the Philippine Islands at midnight their time with U-2 missions scheduled to take off early the next morning. We had only been there three days when the Philippine government demanded that we get out. We were once again loading and fueling the aircraft for a rapid departure.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 26