Jeanne met me at the door with a “cool one” and said, “After you change your clothes, I'm dying to know what all the commotion is about. Just tell me one thing with a quick “yes” or “no”; does it have anything to do with Rudy Anderson being shot down?” I replied that it did not, “However, if the boys come in, I'll have to wait to fill you in on my latest escapade.”
Jeanne sat attentively, her huge eyes looking larger as I went through the events of the past three days. “Well, that's it. Now you know what all the commotion was about.” She just shook her head and said, “I let you out of my sight and you try to start World War III!” Before she could say another word, Chuckie and Shawn came bursting through the door shouting, “What did you bring me?” I felt like saying, “I brought your Daddy's ass home in one piece.”
SAC Headquarters sent a team of navigators down to Laughlin to get a look at the article known as the U-2. Some had never seen a U-2 much less the navigation aids it carried including a periscope sextant and coffee grinder. The team was led by a full colonel, who when introduced to me, said he remembered my name associated with another incident but couldn't put his finger on it. I was chosen to escort the team because they were aware of my overflight. I let them sit in the cockpit of the U-2 and explained what the instruments were and how they were used. I could tell they were disappointed in what they saw. They were expecting all sorts of sophisticated equipment. After they observed the flight planning for several days and results of the local flights, they all agreed that a U-2 pilot certainly earned his flight pay.
Many years later at Davis Monthan AFB, Tucson, Arizona I received a call from a major inquiring if I was the same Maultsby who landed a U-2 at Kotzebue back in 1962. I told him that I was, and I invited him to visit the squadron first chance he got. I didn't really expect him to accept.
Weeks went by before the major showed up at the door of my office. We spent about an hour recalling the events that took place in those infamous days, October 26 and 27, 1962. He wasn't the radar site commander at Kotzebue back then, but I certainly did remember meeting him. Just as a lark, I thought I'd ask him why I wasn't given a steer, since my flight path had been plotted from start to finish. He was surprised that no one ever told me although I had made several inquiries. He didn't go into detail how my positions were relayed to the radar site, but he did mention some satellite station off the coast of Siberia on an island that could relay the information without giving their position away. Apparently Uncle Sam regarded the satellite stations more important to our national defense than one lost U-2 aircraft and pilot.
That explanation never satisfied me. Kotzebue could have contacted Duck Butt and they could have given me a steer before I wandered out of radio range.
Addendum by Colonel (Ret.) Charles Kern
Anyone who has flown missions around the Iron Curtain is most certainly aware of the hazards. The Soviets transmitted false signals on radio and navigational aids under their control. They would try to get Allied aircraft to navigate on them, leading our pilots into Soviet or East German airspace. It was called “MEACONING.” There were specific procedures in the En route Supplement for reporting such contacts. I had one reportable incident in four years of flying around Iron Curtain countries. It sounded like the real thing to me, except it was coming from a place I didn't think it should have been.
Addendum by Colonel (Ret.) Anthony Martinez
I have talked with Leon Schmutz, the F-102 pilot who was the wingman of Captain Dean Rands. It was Rands who intercepted and escorted Chuck Maultsby to Kotzebue on October 27, 1962. Schmutz said he and Rands were on alert at Galena with their Deuces (F-102s) and armed with only air-to-air missiles. They were scrambled to the west to intercept the U-2 that had been tracked over Soviet territory. The Deuces were controlled by “CAMPION,” the Early Warning Radar site near Galena, Alaska. About 30 to 40 minutes after their takeoff, they were vectored to the U-2 target. The U-2 was intercepted at an altitude of 45,000 to 50,000 feet altitude. Rands, the flight leader, made radio contact with the U-2 pilot. They continued to escort him toward Alaska, but it was slow going. They had to do some turning to stay with him. All this time they were under control of CAMPION. Rands said he and Schmutz were not aware that MiGs were airborne and were attempting to intercept. He said he did not know exactly where they were when they intercepted Maultsby's U-2. But if you measure 40 minutes flying time at 400 to 500 knots west of Galena, it places you over or near the Siberian land mass. Kotzebue is on the north end of the Alaskan Baldwin Peninsula and there is nothing west of that but open water of the Chukchi Sea. Chuck was blessed by many fortunate events that happened that day leading up to his successful landing.
Gerald E. (Jerry) McIlmoyle
Venice, Florida
U-2 Entry into the Vietnam War
In 1963 the 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing had moved from Laughlin AFB in Del Rio, Texas to Davis Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona. The tempo of U-2 operations had increased and it seemed like we were meeting ourselves coming and going. We were going on temporary duty assignments and flying the U-2 all over the world. I had returned from two months in Alaska and was looking forward to a long stint at home. It was February 1964 and the Tucson weather was fantastic and great for flying the U-2.
I had just returned home from the flight line when there was a knock at our door. There stood our Wing Commander, Colonel John DesPortes. Twice before I had answered a knock on the door and he had been standing there—smiling. The first word out of his mouth was “Maaj,” that was his Alabama drawl for Major. I knew Colonel DesPortes’ visit did not portend well. The first of his previous appearances signified the start of the Cuban Missile Crisis; the second was when he asked me to accompany him to break the news to the wife of a fellow U-2 pilot who had died in a crash in California. Colonel DesPortes instructed me to pack my bags and be at Base Operations for departure on a KC-135. He said Steve Heyser, Chuck Stratton and I were going to deadhead (fly and sleep) that night en route to Hickam AFB, Hawaii. Three other U-2 pilots were preparing to fly three U-2Rs, the mid-air refueling model, to Hickam. Steve, Chuck and I were all qualified in the U-2 mid-air refueling. In the morning we would fly those U-2s to Clark Air Base in the Philippines. DesPortes said we were to plan on an extended stay.
I was the last to arrive at Base Operations. I guess I took too much time saying goodbye to my wife, Patty, and our kids, Patrick and Ruthie. The entire navigation section was there gathering maps for our flights from Hickam. The navigation crew was even gathering all the maps they could find of North and South Vietnam.
I remembered that at the end of the Korean War President Eisenhower had emphatically stated publicly he would never involve the United States in a land war in Asia. At that point in time we had advisors stationed in South Vietnam but no independent military units. We got airborne out of Davis Monthan AFB, for Hickam AFB, Hawaii with our navigation, maintenance and PSD teams on board the KC-135.
Steve, Chuck and I were told to get as much sleep as we could because we had a long flight ahead of us. I took a Seconal and went right to sleep. We were each to fly a U-2 the next day from Hickam AFB, to Clark Air Base, Philippines with one mid-air refueling near Guam.
View from the tanker during inflight refueling of the U-2. Photo courtesy of Lockheed Martin Co.
At Hickam Steve, Chuck and I were advised that the Strategic Air Command (SAC) Advanced Team (ADVON) had already set us up with office space and a place to sleep. The Navigation Team started planning our flights for the next day with takeoff schedule for 6:00 a.m.. Our maintenance crews did not get much sleep either; they recovered the U-2s being flown in from Tucson, servicing them with fuel, oil and oxygen. They fixed any maintenance problems identified on the U-2 flights to Hickam from Tucson. We were directed to start flying reconnaissance over North Vietnam (NVN) as soon as possible. The PSD guys worked all night getting our pressure suits ready to wear for the next morning's scheduled launch. The three of us were to fly over Wake Isl
and and Guam and conduct our inflight refueling; we would continue on to Clark Air Base. A total of 15 hours was scheduled to elapse from the time we put on our pressure suits at Hickam until we removed them at Clark. Someone dragged us from bed and drove us to the flight line to go through our pre-flight ritual of getting a medical check and eating a steak and egg meal (high protein, low residue). We would also pre-breathe oxygen to eliminate 75 percent of the nitrogen from our bodies to prevent the bends. Fifteen minutes before each takeoff the PSD technicians strapped us into our aircraft. They hooked up the connections, checked our pressure suit and oxygen connections and tested everything to ensure it all functioned properly. Steve was scheduled to take off first, with me and then Chuck following at 30-minute intervals. Steve was strapped into his U-2, waiting, radio on, ready to copy his authentication of the execution order from SAC Headquarters. The Navigation Team planned his celestial navigation calculations for a 6:00 a.m. takeoff. The execution order didn't come. We waited and waited and waited. Thirty minutes went by, the limit upon which preplanned celestial readings were considered useable. They gave Steve my charts and planned celestial as it was for 30 minutes later in the day. The domino affect took place. Having given my charts to Steve, they then appropriated and gave me Chuck's charts and started re-planning Chuck's flight. And like most bad dreams, every 30 minutes of delay in the execution order our charts were shuffled forward. Old military descriptions of this three-ring circus comes to mind, “hurry up and wait,” “situation normal all ____ up”, etc. We went through the total cycle twice and were arguing over whether to start a third cycle at 10:00 a.m..
I let our Operations Officer know that we had now been on the flight line for almost six hours. I thought combining the delay with our planned flight time would mean that we would exceed SAC regulation crew rest requirements. I suggested we notify SAC Headquarters we were aborting for crew rest. Little consideration was being given to the Navigation, PSD and Maintenance teams that had been on duty in excess of 24 hours.
I was sitting in a lounge chair in the PSD van when I saw our Operations, Maintenance and PSD guys milling around the three U-2s lined up on the flight line. What was going on? Wouldn't you know, the execution order came right when we were ready to pack up our bags and go to Waikiki Beach.
I tried to tell the Detachment Commander saying, “It's too late.” But by then this gaggle had its own momentum and it was going to grind on no matter what. I was informed in plain language that regulations are only a guide to the Commander, not the inviolable law. So, Steve launched without celestial charts. Thirty minutes later I followed Steve, also minus the celestial charts. Steve, Chuck and I dead reckoned our way across the beautiful blue Pacific Ocean. It was a clear day with no clouds, no haze and no fog. Were we ever glad to see Wake Island over our plane's nose about 250 nautical miles ahead. We experienced a big boost to our confidence in our flight planning based upon the forecast of high altitude winds.
The earth is mostly surrounded by water. We saw a lot of water that day. Four hours out of Hawaii, Steve radioed me he had picked up the Wake radio beacon and it was right on the target. Steve could not talk to Chuck, the third and last guy behind us; the two of them were separated by 425 nautical miles. I was in the middle and could talk to either of them so I relayed messages for the three of us. Steve reported he had passed Wake Island. I could make out the speck of black in the ocean on the horizon 200 plus miles away. It was indeed Wake Island. I passed Wake and radioed both Steve and Chuck that we were all about five hours out of Hickam. We had eight more hours to go to reach Clark AB. Chuck radioed back to me, “Keep your comments to yourself, thank you very much.” We were three tired and bored U-2 pilots and had eight hours to go.
Three hours later, Steve communicated to me that he had turned on his radio beacon to allow the KC-135 refueling tanker to home in and rendezvous with him. His next report was that he was in radio contact with the tanker and was starting his letdown for mid-air refueling. The procedure was to descend to 25,000 feet and put on the U-2 “Gust Control.” That action raised the flaps and ailerons up a couple of inches and reduced the wing and tail loading. It provided greater safety in rough air. It also allowed the maximum indicated airspeed (IAS) limit to be increased from 160 knots to 220 knots IAS. I heard Steve report to the tanker that he was at 25,000 feet and holding 200 knots IAS. That was good news.
I heard the tanker report they had Steve in sight and were coming up on his left side. They would advise him when their airspeed and altitude were stable for him to slide over for refueling. The minimum airspeed of 200 knots IAS was required for the KC-135 to maintain a stable platform at 25,000 feet altitude to conduct midair refueling. It was also a major safety factor during refueling for the U-2. I heard the tanker crewman report he was ready and the boom operator said his boom was engaged in Steve's aircraft; the refueling process began. About two minutes later I heard the boom operator report that Steve had a full fuel load. Steve was instructed to reset his aircraft's fuel counter. Steve disconnected from the tanker and thanked them for their service. He was over Guam and heading for Clark AB.
We planned the refueling to end over Guam. In that case we would need fuel and could land at Andersen AFB on Guam and get fuel there. The tanker called me and instructed me to turn on my radio beacon. The tanker was coming toward me at a closing rate of over 800 MPH for rendezvous and refueling. After letdown from 70,000 to 25,000 feet, the tanker looked beautiful as it pulled up close to me just off my left wing. I slid into position for refueling and reminded myself of the tanker bow wave. That bow wave was not visible but it was there. It is similar to the upheaval of water behind a speeding power boat only in my case there was upheaval of air behind the tanker. When my U-2 slid in behind the tanker it acted like a surfboard; it first catches a wave and then is riding it. I had to throttle back almost to idle as the U-2 caught the tanker's wave. We used our speed brakes while refueling as that would give us better aircraft control. During refueling, the pressure from the tanker boom and the flow of fuel helped keep the U-2 from over-running the tanker. The U-2, in my mind, felt like it wanted to do just that.
It seemed like only a second later the tanker boomer radioed me that I had a full load. The tanker pilot eased his aircraft to my left, wished me well and turned back to refuel Chuck. The refueling for Chuck went without any problems. Following Chuck's refueling, the tanker turned toward Clark AB. The tanker had our ground support crew on board and they had to get to Clark before Steve to prepare for his arrival. It was not to be. Steve, Chuck and I encountered a tail wind of about 30 knots that gave us ground speed of 450 knots. The tanker had about a 100-knot head wind. We would arrive at Clark AB and land before the tanker and our support guys.
I could see the sunset reflecting off the cloud cover below us. On arrival at Clark radio beacon at 20,000 feet altitude, I initiated an approach pattern letdown. I was going to position myself for a Ground Control Approach (GCA) pickup on their radar and their guidance to Clark. They lined me up and set me up for landing. I broke through the overcast at about 1,000 feet above the ground. I could see the Clark runway directly in front of me and followed the GCA instructions to the landing threshold. When I crossed the runway threshold, GCA released me and I landed visually. To me, it was more of a controlled crash than a landing. There was a nice breeze down the runway so I was able to fly the wings and keep them level throughout my landing rollout. I was fortunate that I continued to be able to fly the aircraft through the turnoff to the runway and onto the taxiway with the wings still level.
In my entire life I do not believe I have ever been that tired and that dehydrated. The Clark transient ground crew was there to help me get out of the aircraft and into the staff car that had been sent for me. I felt as if I was in a fog. The staff car delivered me to a crowded and dimly lit room; someone handed me a beer. That was the last thing I remembered.
The next day we were tasked for our first overflight of North Vietnam. The detachment com
mander, navigators and maintenance teams arrived the same night in the KC-135, the same aircraft that refueled our flight of three U-2s over Guam. Those were long reconnaissance flights—the flight from Clark AB to North Vietnam and back to Clark. The flight included three hours deadhead time to NVN two hours over the target area and then another three hours deadhead time back to Clark. We flew these missions over NVN over a period of about four days. The Philippine Government then became aware we were flying out of their territory and ousted us and our U-2s. We were declared “Persona non-grata”; they gave us four hours to get off their sovereign territory, another political crisis in the making.
We made our Philippine imposed four-hour deadline and flew the three U-2s, support personnel and all our equipment back to Andersen AFB, Guam. There was no space in the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters (BOQ) so the officers in our detachment were installed in two vacant four-bedroom family houses. Andersen had space in its Non-Commissioned Officers’ (NCO) quarters for all our maintenance, PSD and other support personnel. It seemed like we stayed there forever but it was only about a week or 10 days. One significant occurrence came to me during that time. Cassius Clay beat Sonny Liston for the World Heavyweight Boxing Title. The reason I remembered that was because I bet Steve Heyser $5 that Clay would win. We gathered around the radio that night to hear the fight broadcast over Armed Forces Radio. I collected my huge winnings from Steve!
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 45