Launch 58 0091 ( Warning, very long. It's about me, Airman Bennett ) Tales from the Cold War. My little part in history. Strategic Air Command 5th Bomb Wing SAC Ramp. Minot Air Force Base, N. Dakota 1984. "Peace Is Our Profession" Tango 13 parking spot, ten below zero. There waits a KC 135A, 4 engine, Boeing made, acft, at 3 AM: 0300. Tanker, that is, fueling other aircraft in flight, worldwide, stinger lookin' thing out the back, for the sun never sets on the 5th Bomb Wing. Built in 1958, my plane, whole lotta' hours goin' on. Serial number: 58 0091. Asst. Crew Chief, halfway decent troop quite though, name of A1C Bennett rides out to the ramp in Tanker Two. 1100 launch unless the plane's broke dick. You'd break to if somebody chopped your tail off. 'Bout 10 degrees extra rudder trim, that is, yaw damper gets a good workout, squirrely old bird, she be, while keeping her straight in flight, more or less. ------------- On the dead quite flightline, Tanker two pulls up with the A1C, stops at the SAC ramp gate, so like he does every launch, A1C Bennett, says to his still sleepy, 3 AM head: "Please Lord, please let me not f--ck up !" Earlier, in bench stock picking up a launch box, with headsets, ground cords, a tool box, crappy cup of coffee, thinking, not for the first time, "Man, hope the real shit never hits the fan, least not right now 'cuz I'm goin' home on leave next week, see this girl, hopefully. I mean everyone has plans, I wanna' make Senior Airman, and we sure as shit don't want to hear a real E.W.O. Klaxon. Armageddon, or Apocalypse type shit. Still though wonder what it'd be like, or what comes after" And when he thinks we He means these guys he works with, lives with. The Tanker Troops of the 5th O.M.S. Tanker Branch. Trying to protect a new idea and a grand experiment, name of Freedom. In detterance, attempting to preserve a deserving Nation, and a certain way of life for a future that's not so certain. Then he, the A1C in Tanker Two, pulling up to Tango 13, looks out across the taxi way. B 52s, sitting static across the ramp, looking horrible beautiful, deadly as they lay in wait. Other Bombers, same type ( BUFFs ) -big ugly fat f--ckers uploaded, Bomber Alert Pad. They wait to, with the "Pigs" on board Special Weapons load out: SRAMS for the SAM sights ALCM forerunner, tactical nukes. Self defense for the Bomb Wing, in flight to their targets in the Soviet Union. Rest of the load out: Hydrogen weapons, heavy Megatonnage, 1.4, free fall bombs adjustable yield, Thermonuclear. Set for an air burst 3000 ft. Radar drop on the primaries. ICBMs 120 in silos, surrounding the base, 150 mile radius. Tankers Bombers, Cocked on alert loaded for bear, fueled and ready for an E.W.O. launch. Wheels up in 15 min. or less, READY. Full Retaliatory Response. ( Before the Soviet First Strike missiles detonate ) Which we will never do, against our policy. We're better than that, I mean nobody wants to be murderers. Tango 13, The Crew Chiefs arrive, one's the A1C, feeling bad hese days. Thinks he might have let the other down somehow, a long time ago. Both getting cold, calling for a heat unit still wiping sleep from their eyes, expecting an on time takeoff eight hours from now. 10 bombers on the ramp, 10 tankers, 120 jet engines, all dead quiet. With the whining roar of the dash 60 power cart. Flip of a guarded switch, power on, the Tanker's electric guts begin to warm. In the cockpit he taps the ice cold fuel panel. Comparing the fuel sheet he reads: 70,000 lbs. JP 4 Slightly more than a ramp load, just enough for today's mission. Pre-flight work cards to follow: Engine inlets checked for F.O.D. shock strut extension set. Hydraulic fluid levels, accumulators checked for charge. LOX converter's full, eight liters. Tire pressure set for the gross weight. A hundred other work card items, pre-flight complete. He'll sit for a few at the Nav station, waiting for drivers, crew show, eating an in flight kitchen box lunch. ( Box nasty that is, horse cock sandwich, mystery meat ) Crew's here: AC: Aircraft Commander, AKA Pilot. Copilot, AKA Co, Nav, and the Boomer. ( Boom Operator ) Cold, as... HELL -15. Three mount the ladder while the AC and Crew Chief begin their inspection. This time honored ritual this- final safety check, this Aircraft Walkaround. Holding lives in their hands. "Cold this morning, Sir" "Yes it is, Chief, hope it hasn't affected the shock struts" "Haven't seen any leaks yet Sir, I got a heat unit standing by, just in case. I'll take a good look as you taxi out, good so far, though. Tanker One will maintain visual on the struts as you taxi down the SAC ramp" "K Chief, thanks" Not friends, though observing a kind of trust, looking for loose panels, leaks more than a few other things as well. They pull and count the landing gear down-locks. Completing the Walkaround of 58 0091 Later, for the flight control checks: "Left aileron moving up, trim tabs down, spoilers up 20 Stabilizer leading edge moving up---down__ flaps clear up, Now moving up Etc. Etc. Ready to start engines" -Uneventful start, engine number one, rotation, then ignition. Same, for all four engines. No leaks, no flames, gauges are nominal. Tanker one truck, able net radio: "Bomb Wing job control, this is Tanker One: uneventful Engine start, all four engines, 58 0091" Flight Crew completes their starting engines, before taxi checklist items, the sortie is ready to fly. Ground from cockpit: "Clear to pull Chocks, kick 'em on out, Chief" __ __ "Pulled Sir" Taxi report: “All powered, non powered A.G.E is clear of the aircraft. All panels, hatches, secondary structures are secure. Upper and lower rotating beacons on and rotating. Chocks, ground wires pulled you're in taxi configuration. Have a safe flight Sir, ground's off headset" Ground cords unplugged and stowed, Crew Chief and the A1C take their place by the wingtips. The aircraft shakes and shudders, ready for launch. With the quick shine of taxi lights, a brief salute, the aircraft begins to move. “Job control this is Tanker One- Taxi, 58 0091" So the mission begins. Crew Chiefs gather their tool boxes, pick up their launch box, stepping away from Tango 13, thinkin' theyll need another crappy ass bench stock coffee, smelling like JP 4. ---------- Waiting on board the Flight Crew, 58 0091, End of runway, take off checklist complete. Tower clearance: cleared thru the hold point brakes released, up onto the runway. Brakes set again, throttles fwd takeoff settings, brakes off runway roll out begins. Speed callouts: 100... 150... V1... Rotate, V2. VSI shows a positive rate of climb: Gear up. 91 is airborne now no longer of this earth. Ascending, to it's meeting with a B 52. Next to hit Rivet Joint bird weather depending, RC 135, antennas by the shit load, slung under the fuselage. Tell ya but I'd have to kill ya', type aircraft, 'cuz they were never there, real secret type shit. Out there in the air, 24/7 f--ckin' with the Reds, headin' out over Cuba on a beaner run, weather depending. Crew Chief on board wing nut type, consumate Crew Chief one a them "Perfect flyboy profile" types. Officers might say that shit, guys just a friend of the A1C, used to be a Tanker Troop 5th O.M.S. showed him the ropes on the alert pad. The A1C s grateful, walking home later, wishes he were up there on board, for the inflight refuel, he could "communicate" i.e give his buddy the finger from the tanker's boom pod window, tell him over headsets, he launches like a girl. Hasn't seen the guy in a few years, maybe just a few more than that. Back at base Tango 13 is empty now, dead quiet. A fire bottle stands it's long lonely vigil. Waiting: for the return of 58 0091 This is about a KC 135A (C) R.Bennett.
just the e.c.m. shop for me. 68-71. a1c/e3 section 8'd out with an honorable, so what the hay. would have been a protester if i hadn't lived up in the woods too far away. usaf kept me out of the army, bless them.
