It was only another 150 miles of rugged road to the site; the remainder of the drive to the end of the road was uneventful. The best description I could give about the road was that it was a dirt path strewn with rocks and boulders. Most everyone slept except the driver and me, he drove and I whittled away on the two walking sticks. Damn, but that pallet wood was hard! Guess it had to be to hold up under the abuse and reuse pallets were subjected to. A couple more hours and we would be there; then the going was really tough. It was all on foot for the remainder of the journey.
I finished the walking sticks just as we arrived at a “village,” actually a small collection of mud huts. I was told the teacher, who gave the eye-witness account of the last few seconds of the doomed U-2’s flight, lived here. What a God-forsaken place! There was nothing, absolutely nothing, but dirt and rocks of all sizes.
There were thirteen of us, plus the six Bolivian soldiers at this point. The soldiers led the way, and we began the long, difficult trek following. The trail was impossible to describe: rocks everywhere, up and down we went, around boulders as large as houses blocking the trail. It was hard to find decent footing with the rocks, shale, and loose dirt. Feet wanted to slide downhill with every step. The walking stick was a great help, and I was glad I had seen its potential in the pallet at the airport radio station. This pace went on for a couple more hours; meanwhile, we were just trying to breathe. Mike Cupito, our Lockheed Tech Rep, turned blue and had trouble breathing, so we left him with one of the soldiers to keep an eye on him. Finally after a bit more hiking, we arrived at the crash site.
It took us four hours to get to the crash site, the return trip only three. The hike to the site took so long our time there was limited to two hours. We set up search patterns for different groups and began our task. The Holy Grail for us was the Oxygen Quick Disconnect (QD); it had been the culprit in several previous fatal crashes. If/when it was found, we were gone.
We searched the bits and pieces for a couple hours, and found nothing larger than a coffee cup. I watched the sun and calculated when we needed to leave to avoid being out on the badlands trail returning to the vehicles. In my broken Spanish, I conveyed that information to the leader of the Bolivian soldiers, and we agreed we did not have much longer. I called the guys together and told them we would be leaving in twenty minutes. To this point we had found nothing but small scrap pieces of debris. Then a bright shiny object caught my attention. I had to admit, my heart pumped like crazy and the adrenaline flowed strong. I reached down and pulled the small metallic object out of the dirt. It could have been anything; it was only about two by three inches and could easily have been overlooked in the search area the size of three football fields. This was it! Our Holy Grail had been found. I let out a “whoop” and told everybody we were going home now. Right now! I carried the found treasure in my hand most of the way back to the vehicles. It was not heavy—the two milled aluminum pieces mated together were slightly thicker than a cigarette pack.
Going back down the trail seemed much easier now that a key piece of evidence was in our hands – our spirits were lifted by the find of the QD. We slipped and slid a lot on the return hike. We met Mike where we left him; he was glad to see us and was happier to be leaving the area. The reverse route was the same including the ferry boat ride. Everyone was exhausted and slept on the long drive back to the hotel. The next day we rested and shopped for souvenirs for the families. Our official mission was successfully accomplished.
One thing remained; we had to attend Col Fox's informal dinner at his residence. As our US Defense and Air Attache official in Bolivia, it was customary to meet with him when our mission was completed and to give him a departure briefing. Since we had been told it was a casual event, we wore civvie slacks and sport shirts. The dinner was excellent, and we had an opportunity to meet his lovely, gracious wife. We said our farewells at the end of the evening and prepared to leave next day for home base on the C-130. We had an opportunity to recover from the altitude once we were onboard the pressurized aircraft. Our return flight would be via Lima, Peru where we spent the night and rid ourselves of the oxygen-deprivation headaches we had experienced for nearly a week. The following day's flight took us home to Davis Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona, where we began putting all the pieces together.
Back at home base, Col Hayes assembled all Accident Investigation Board members in a conference room for a brainstorming session. We had no evidence except the QD and not even a hint of the cause of the crash. The idea was for board members to suggest just about anything that came to mind as a possible factor or contributing factor. The central theme that kept coming up concerned the oxygen, and rightfully so, considering it had contributed to a few fatal crashes in the early years, although none in recent times. We looked at all sorts of bizarre situations, such as the pilot:
• Choked while having a drink of water, orange juice or while eating.
• Removed the pressure suit face plate to clear his throat of some object, or to eat and could not resecure it.
• Had a heart attack.
• Was shot down by a SA-2 missile.
• Was shot by an F-104.
• Experienced some sort of failure of the oxygen system; i.e., accidental disconnect of the QD.
• Experienced oxygen system freeze or leak.
• Experienced pressure suit leakage or failure.
• Rendered incapable, unconscious or dead by some unknown physical/physiological event that precluded him from any sort of remedial action or prevented notification of his in-flight difficulties to authorities on the ground.
In addition to the situations we considered, we knew Capt Hickman was deemed to be in excellent health and physical condition, and only recently passed his airline flight physical. He had planned to leave the Air Force to join a major airline as a pilot.
The choices we were left with were not very good ones for sure. We were unsuccessful in recovering the faceplate leaving unanswered theories regarding its removal, reinstallation and relocking while at maximum operating altitude with normal cabin pressure at 29,000 feet.
The Accident Investigation Board was gaveled closed with mixed results.
Conclusions:
1. The cause, as determined by the Board, was that the pilot, Capt Robert Hickman, experienced a catastrophic physiological event of unknown etiology that rendered him incapable of any action to ameliorate his situation, and that he had probably died in flight.
2. The aircraft seemingly was performing well, having continued on course, on speed until fuel exhaustion and engine flameout. Even after the flameout, the aircraft, under control of the autopilot, continued to perform flawlessly. The autopilot was directly on course throughout the flight. Indicated airspeed had increased to an estimated 400 knots, far above the aircraft structural limit of 260 knots at which time a wing broke away from the fuselage. By this time, the aircraft was probably less than one thousand feet above impact point. Both the aircraft battery and inverter, powering the autopilot, were working nominally to the very end.
The Big Break
The Board's work was completed in three or four days, and it was time for all members to return to our primary occupations. We bade farewell to Board President, Col Hayes, each of us thinking most highly of him and secretly wishing our future commanders would be as fine a leader as he was. I saw him a few years later, and he told me the walking stick I whittled for him held a place of honor above his fireplace at his home.
The squadron wives gave Capt Hickman's widow comfort and moral support and helped her with packing and child care. I went to the Hickman's on-base quarters where they were all gathered because I wanted to ask her about her husband's health when she last saw him.
When Hickman was sent TDY to Barksdale AFB at Shreveport, Louisiana, for a two-month tour at the OL-19 detachment, the couple decided Mrs. Hickman would go to her parents’ home in Baton Rouge, only a couple hours away, for the duration of the TDY. Since no missions were schedu
led Friday through Sunday that week, he had gone to be with the family in Baton Rouge. He returned to Barksdale early Sunday afternoon to begin crew rest for a 0400 takeoff on Monday. According to testimony and aircraft records, the mission was aborted a half hour after takeoff due to equipment bay pressurization failure. (The cameras would not work in an unpressurized environment). The mission was rescheduled for the same time on Tuesday, the following day.
Capt Hickman had told his roommate at Barksdale that he had a terrible headache all weekend, confirmed by Mrs. Hickman, and couldn't shake it. He said he was going to take two sleeping pills so he could get some rest. None of this was ever disclosed to the Flight Surgeon, although Capt Hickman had preflight physical exams before both Monday's and Tuesday's flights.
This was a huge revelation, but didn't really change anything. It was decided by pay grades far above mine to let the findings of the Board stand as written. After all, Capt Hickman was stricken by an unknown, catastrophic, physiological event that totally incapacitated or killed him outright.
Afterword
At the Davis Monthan Officers Club on Friday evening, we sorted it all out over a few happy hour beverages. He had a brain aneurism that had blown out and finished him. That's the story of the Hickman accident to the best of my recollection some 55 years later.
Gerald E. (Jerry) Mcilmoyle
Venice, Florida
My Participation in the Cuban Missile Crisis
The Cuban Missile Crisis began for Rudy Anderson, Steve Heyser, Buddy Brown and me on October 11, 1962. Our Wing Commander, Colonel John DesPortes, came to each of our homes at Laughlin AFB. When he made a house call, we knew something was going on and it was extremely urgent. The Colonel told us to pack our bags. We were headed to Edwards AFB, California. The plan was for us to take over the CIA's three U-2s.
Major General K.K. Compton, Strategic Air Command Director of Operations, was on the aircraft that transported us to Edwards. En route to Edwards he informed us that President Kennedy had directed the CIA U-2s be turned over to the Air Force. The USAF was to conduct photographic reconnaissance over Cuba. General Compton also told us that the President was still unhappy with the CIA's failure of the Bay of Pigs Operation the year before and he wanted the military to take over the Cuban mission.
CIA pilots instructed us in the differences between the Air Force and CIA U-2s. The next day CIA pilots Barry Baker and James Barnes conducted the ground school at Edwards AFB North Base. Both Barnes and Baker had been in my squadron at Great Falls, Montana before joining the CIA. They were obviously unhappy about being directed to give up their planes to us.
One major difference of the CIA U-2 and the AF version was the J-75 engine which enabled the CIA pilots to fly about 2,000 feet higher than the AF with their J-57 engine. Their birds also had a strobe display about the size of tennis ball on top of the instrument panel. The strobe display indicated direction and distance of any Cuban radar in operation. Lethal range of the SA-2 surface to air missile was 25 miles from the launch site.
The CIA planes also had an aural signal in the headset that would sound a warning when a surface to air missile went into its final radio guidance mode. It was a fluttery sound, called a fan song after the metallic sound of a paper hand fan used by women in the non-air conditioned church of my youth. The sound was soft but menacing. If the signal was heard, the pilot was to initiate a 30-degree bank turn and do an “S” maneuver back to the flight path and by then out of range of the missile launch site. The SA-2 could not turn with the U-2 at altitudes of 70,000 to 75,000 feet, the altitude we maintained en route to Cuba. To fly at that altitude, we flew short fuel and film loads. Each pound of fuel equals one foot in altitude. If we carried 300 or fewer gallons of fuel we could increase altitude by 2,000 feet. Another nice feature of the CIA U-2s was the thrust diffuser to spread and shield the jet engine exhaust from infrared homing sensors and prevent a heat-seeking device to guide a missile into the aircraft.
On October 14, Steve Heyser took off from Edwards and flew the first overflight of Cuba. He landed at McCoy AFB, Florida. Steve's film was immediately flown to Washington, DC for processing. President Kennedy was briefed on the photographic evidence of Soviet Medium Range Nuclear missiles installed in Cuba. The remaining two CIA U-2s were ferried to McCoy by the CIA pilots. Rudy deployed to McCoy and Buddy and I returned to Laughlin from where we flew our first overflights of Cuba. Buddy and I recovered at McCoy. By October 17, 1962, we had 11 U-2 pilots and 10 U-2 aircraft at McCoy. During those first days, we flew about five overflights of Cuba each day.
On October 25, the Soviets made their first attempt to shoot down my U-2 with two SA-2 missiles launched near Banes, Cuba. I received no signal from any of the warning systems. I wasn't even aware that I had been fired at until I saw the missile contrails in my rear view mirror. It was a gorgeous clear day with dark blue sky above and a blue-green sea below—those contrails were quite a contrast. I was in my turn north. I looked back over my left wing, and I saw the missile condensation trails went all the way back to the ground pointing to the Banes SA-2 site. I continued my turn to set up the cameras to record the contrails and burst clouds from the missile. I turned back to the right so the left wing was raised and the cameras began to record. For the next couple minutes, I continued taking pictures of the whole scene.
Two days later, our Operations Officer, Tony Martinez, held a pilots’ meeting to discuss the SAM and MiG-21 threats and our tactics to evade them. It was real to us alright. We all knew the Soviet threat we faced and we realized we probably would not receive any warning of intercept attempts. Tony also stated the need to have a pilot standing by each day in case we were directed to fly more overflights than were scheduled. The increase in overflights had occurred several times previously. Rudy volunteered for the standby alert pilot duty for the next day. From then on we were directed to rotate the duty through our cadre.
We had three overflights scheduled for October 27 with Rudy as standby alert pilot. The three flights had taken off earlier in order to be over the target with the sun at the best angle for good photography. It was a bright clear day and the sky was a beautiful dark blue. Steve Heyser and I had not been scheduled to fly so we went out to play golf. Golf was our recreation as we could not fly for two days before another flight.
At about 11:00 a.m., Steve and I heard the unique sound of a U-2 taking off. We turned to see the aircraft climbing out at a steep angle. The plane was silhouetted against the blue sky, and we watched until it was out of sight. We both knew that it was Rudy going on a special mission and we silently prayed he would be safe.
Rudy's mission covered the area near Banes, Cuba, a known location of the almost finished Medium Range Ballistic Missile (MRBM) launch complex with a defending SAM site. The US radar site at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba reported they lost their track of Rudy at a time and location when he should have been on his photographic run over the target.
We never knew exactly what happened but I believe that Rudy had no system warning of the intercept. He was known to fly with intense concentration and dedication; I believe he was totally focused on flying the most stable platform in order to gather the best possible photographic intelligence.
On that date, October 27, 1962, after Rudy's shootdown, the Soviets capitulated and agreed to remove their nuclear tipped MRBMs from Cuba and cease construction of their associated launch sites. The crisis was over.
Perspective Of Colonel Anthony Martinez
On the evening of October 13, 1962, Major General K.K. Compton and Brigadier General Robert Smith, SAC Deputy Chief of Staff Intelligence, arrived at Laughlin AFB in General Powers’ own VC-97. The purpose of their arrival was to transport Colonel DesPortes and those of us on the recovery team (Operations, Maintenance and Physiological Support) for Steve's arrival the next day at McCoy. Upon arrival at McCoy, we took over the CIA's operation of all pilot facilities except the Communications Room. It was obvious that we were not welcome there, but we were there t
o do our job and we managed to do that.
We learned later that Mr. Cunningham, the CIA Operations Supervisor, had been sending communications to his boss. His messages were full of negative information indicating the Air Force people were not doing the job properly. He reported that we were forgetting to remove the covers from the camera windows, our pilots were sweaty and showed fear as they were being suited up. All allegations were completely false. It was definitely a sporty few days there.
Alaska, North Pole and
Vietnam Flights
“Flight might not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price.”
Amelia Earhart
Robert C. Birkett
Tucson, Arizona
Wife: Betty
Landing In a Thunderstorm with seven Gallons Of Fuel
I wrote a memo the day after the event, December 9, 1966, and placed it in the Pilot's Information File (PIF) where it remained until after the Vietnam War. When I read the memo forty years later, I realized it was “1960s pilot talk.” For anyone, including pilots, reading the memo today, more questions than answers would be apparent. Some background information and explanation would be required to understand and appreciate the U-2 and what happened all those years ago. While thinking back about that night, I recalled serving on two Air Force accident investigation boards. After my Air Force retirement, I also investigated three fatal civilian industrial accidents. A major factor in all the accidents was Murphy's Law, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” Most accidents and incidents are the result of many small and unrelated things going wrong or coming together about the same time, rather than a single catastrophic error or failure of equipment or system. Did Murphy's Law apply to my incident? I can now see some of the events that came together that night.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 37