"Bummer of an Earthmark, Hal."

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
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Last week we took some vacation time and I spent part of it kicking around the Colorado ranch exploring. There was a portion of it I’d only been through once, and then hurridly as I quickly crossed through during an antelope hunt. It’s remote, fairly inaccessable and doesn’t offer much in the way of creature comforts. In short, it’s a good place to get hurt and a bad place to get help. But with a full week off I’d decided to return and spend a day getting to know this unique portion better. My reasons were twofold. First, it’s a collection of medium sized sand dunes and the topography, fauna and flora within are different from most anywhere else on the ranch. Being a curious sort, this was appealing. Second, it has a bit of history to tell, being the place where a group of men lost their lives 28 years ago.

It’s a long ways from the canyons elsewhere on the ranch where Claude Bromley and many generations of Indians left clues to their passing. Further out on the plains these dunes are normally a place to avoid. There’s no graze for cattle, the sand is too loose for a road and the sage and yucca will quickly destroy most tires. There’s badgers, ill-tempered rattlers, searing heat and no water. A 4-wheeler and sturdy boots are the only options in and out.

I started on the eastern edge and worked my way west, looking for and investigating everything of interest. There was much to see, burrows of every size, playas, tall, cylindrical dunes held together by a mass of yucca on top, a view that stretched for miles with nothing made by man in sight and the silence, lots of silence. As I neared the western edge, tallest because of the twisted old tamarack scattered throughout that perform a passable job of anchoring the dunes, I caught my first glimpse of what I knew I’d eventually find; twisted bits of metal, some with a dull hint of faded green. The arrangement of debris made no real sense at first, despite my expanding circular search for more pieces. I rode the 4-wheeler further west to the place where the dunes rose highest as a thin, linear crest and there, suddenly, I encountered a random profusion of small, twisted bits of aluminum, some smooth and some rivited, fuses, cable, fiberglass, bits of a tire, electronics and the like. It was the old B-52.

Crew of 8 Killed in Crash Of B-52 Training Flight
UPI
Published: October 31, 1981
An Air Force B-52 crashed into the southeastern Colorado prairie today, killing all eight crew members.
The eight-engine jet bomber, from March Air Force Base in southern California, was simulating a bombing run the Air Force said.
The B-52 broke into small pieces when it struck a 20-foot sand dune about nine miles east of La Junta. It was flying about 400 feet altitude just before the crash.
There were no weapons or explosives on the plane, the Air Force said. The Air Force said the bomber was piloted by Capt. James L. MacGregor, 31 years old, of Chowchilla, Calif. The co-pilot was Capt. Gani Aydoner, 30, of Kaysville, Utah. Others in the crew were Capt. Clifford R. Duane, 36, San Bernardino, Calif.; First Lieut. Kendall E. Wallace, 25, Laguna Beach, Calif; Capt. Stanley H. Eddleman, 28, Sparta, Ill.; Senior Airman Timothy E. McFarland, 23, Tucson, Ariz.; Airman 1st Class Bruce E. Schaefer, 22, Beloit, Wis., and Airman 1st Class David W. Smith, 20, Pasadena, Tex.

What would it be like when a B-52 crashes? One possible example can be seen at this airshow.

Of couse one’s thought turn first to why did this happen and, then, to why did it happen here? You must understand that besides the ranch headquarters, there’s not much else for many miles around. It’s framed by some low, shale hills but besides an occasional stock tank and windmill there’s not another structure in sight in any direction. The foreman and his family have told a story since back in the 70s. Often times as they’d be around the place doing whatever, they’d hear a low roar, would look up and encounter a low flying US Air Force B-52 bomber lining up on their place and could actually see it open its bomb bay doors as it approached. This didn’t happen once. It happened frequently during both daylight and dark. Their house was the bullseye for Air Force bombing runs. Bummer of an Earthmark, Hal.

Cut to 7 years later. The first B-1B crash after the aircraft became operational in 1986 was on 28 September 1987 and went down just past our place on our friend Bub’s ranch. Article. News clip.

*CALL sign “Taupe 52” flew out of Dyess Air Force Base on the morning of September 28 and never returned. Its young B-1B crew was engaged in a low-level training mission when the aircraft flew into a large flock of Swainson’s hawks near La Junta, Colo. The plane suffered multiple bird strikes, which knocked out engines No. 3 and No. 4. The effect was like being hit by 4-pound bowling balls at 500 mph. Witnesses reported seeing a fire near one engine nacelle, which may have been sparked when damaged turbine blades sliced through fuel and electrical lines. The pilot fought for altitude to give the crew time to bail out. Three made it. Three did not. And Taupe 52 became the first production B-1B to crash, another victim of the more than 2500 bird strikes the Air Force records each year. Some encounters with birds result in minor damage. Some can down an airplane. The danger multiplies when the aircraft is flying fast and low–the way the B-1B was designed to fight.
The Air Force identified the victims as Maj. James T. Acklin, 37, an instructor pilot, 1st Lt. Ricky M. Bean, 27, a student pilot, and Maj. Wayne D. Whitlock, 39, an instructor defensive systems officer. Surviving crewmembers were Capt. Joseph S. Butler, 33, a student defensive systems officer, Capt. Lawrence H. Haskell, 33, a student aircraft commander, and Maj. William H. Price, 42, an instructor offensive systems officer.
The Air Force will complete its investigation in coming months. But having flown in the instructor pilot’s seat, I can speculate on why the survivors got out–and why the victims didn’t. Although the Air Force declines comment, insiders theorize that the two crewmen sitting aft in the defensive/offensive systems station ejected safely. Then, one of the pilots in either the left seat or the right seat punched out, too. That left the two observer/instructors in their nonejecting jump seats. Their only option–as Taupe 52 tumbled out of control–was to stow their seats, blow away the air stairs and exit out the bottom. Struggling to move inside the wildly pitching aircraft, they simply ran out of time. The remaining pilot chose to stay at the controls 'til the end to keep Taupe 52 in the air–and give his friends a fighting chance. *

Our 'bullseye" ranch house is a few miles east of La Junta. It’s likely what both these planes were lining up on for their simulated drops. Area as a bomb run target:
The bomber, (B-1B) attached to the 96th Bombardment Wing, left Dyess Air Force Base in Abilene, Tex., early Monday. It was headed for the Strategic Training Range Complex near La Junta, about 60 miles southeast of Pueblo, the Strategic Air Command said.
At the training range near La Junta, crew members simulate bomb drops and are scored electronically by personnel on the ground. In October, 1981, a B-52 crashed at the range, killing all eight crew members.
And:
*Tourers learned the Pecos ESS was moved to it’s present location, the “Lone Star Site,” and began operation in January 2002, after 30 years as the “La Junta Bomber Plot” out of La Juna, Colo. The move was made because the B-I bomber training base, (Dyess Air Force) in Abilene needed a “backyard” site to train it’s B-1 students in the art of electronics combat. Thus began the "Realistic Bomber Training Initiative (RBTI). The “Lone Star Site,” is in the vicinity of the IR-178 military training route, which has been used by bomber crews for low-level flight training for more than 40 years. *

As I wandered around the dunes that day picking up little pieces of twisted metal and curious pieces, all almost too hot to hold in the midday sun, a real sense of melancholy came over me about the men that died there. They’d died in the course of keeping me, you, anyone that lives within our borders safe. I wondered how clearly they knew what was happening right before the crash. I wondered what they would have gone on to do with their lives. I wondered how many family members had grieved for them and in how many minds were they still remembered to this day.

I’m not sure what I can do for them there. It is a desolate, lonely place and few of us know of its exact location. There are no markers save the scattered remnants of a once magnificent plane. So I mention them here in the hope that others will be aware of them too, what they gave, what they lost. And I promise to think of them sometimes. To think of them with thoughts of thanks, respect and with a profound sense of sorrow.

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Thank you for this post.

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Good tale, thank you for sharing it with us.

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I’m in the Colorado mountains and love looking at old mines and the scraps they leave behind. I also caved some old missle silos on the Colorado plains before tons of concrete shut them down for good.

How much land do you have lieu? Any pictures of the crash site?

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That’s a great post. Well written and presented.

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enipla, the number of acres required to sufficently support the cattle are much greater here than what you’d see in your part of the state. Most ranches are on the order of 10,000 to 30,000 acres. Ours combines a couple of those. The first was assembled from old homesteads in the 50s. The remains of probably 20 old stone houses dot the place. Every once in awhile we’ll discover a new one. The last time was when a pick-up unexpectedly drove across and collapsed the roof of a dugout. An adjacent ranch was added a decade back.

As for pictures, I’m afraid a camera wasn’t included in my saddlepack. Now I’m kicking myself for that as even with the memory fresh I’d still like to have that to document and share. The best I can offer is this taken from miles away of some deer that happens to look toward the site. You can’t see the dunes since they’re closer to the Arkansas River and in a relative low but it’ll give you an idea of what the country’s like. The obvious river in the picture is the Purgatory. Past that, way to the left and far off you can just see a thin strip of vegetation along the Arkansas. The dunes are inbetween.

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You had me at the Far Side quote.

This post and another couple posts I saw from lieu recently moves him back to the top of my Doper crush list.

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I was away on vacation and am just seeing this. Fascinating story, **lieu **- thank you for sharing.

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Of Taupe 52, lieu wrote: “I wondered how many family members had grieved for them and in how many minds were they still remembered to this day.”

I Remember.

I was in B-1B flight training the day Taupe 52 and its crew of six took off from Dyess AFB . . . the day it never returned. They were very good men. I remember the memorial service a few days later for our three lost comrades. As a couple of hundred of us stood in formation on the parade field, the west Texas sun was hot and the red clay dust blew. The appropriate words were spoken, the bagpiper played a mournful Amazing Grace, the young widows wept, and the warriors wept. And then for most of us life went on, if with a little less certainty than before. I deeply appreciate you keeping the story of these three young men alive.

I Remember

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Over Christmas, our conversation one night returned to the two crashes. Present were my father in law, who working outside first heard and then saw the ailing B-1B as it flew overhead, and our foreman and his wife who have lived in the house used as the practice target for so many years. All had interesting reflections on both the events but one in particular really stuck with me. In the news clip above about Taupe 52 the author speculates “The remaining pilot chose to stay at the controls 'til the end to keep Taupe 52 in the air–and give his friends a fighting chance.” The sentiment among most everyone in town, having noted that the plane banked and struggled on beyond the three parachutes for long enough to get past La Junta and specifically its High School nearby, was that that’s what the pilot gave his life to avoid.

Thank you, I Remember. I can’t imagine a more moving addition to the story than your post.

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Originally posted by lieu:
“They’d died in the course of keeping me, you, anyone that lives within our borders safe.”

Thanks to you and to them.

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The older I get, the more I realize there are just a handful of defining moments in one’s life.

The crash in 1981 of the B-52 from March is one of those. And what’s weird is – I didn’t know the crewmen all that well. I had been stationed briefly with a handful of them.

Not to bore anyone on this board, or the generations that may come after and read these posts, but the moment I heard the news, read the names, got on an airplane and flew to California, stood in the packed pews at the memorial service at March, and the millions of moments since in the last 30 years – nary a day goes by that I don’t remember, and think, and get teary-eyed. And I, too, often wonder how many people still remember, and mourn, and I try to put myself in the B-52 that fateful night and wonder just what went wrong.

I held on to relationships for years after that crash with people from that squadron, until i realized I was just holding on to the memories of those men who died. And, in the end, I felt like I was the only one remembering. That’s not fair to say, and I know hanging onto 30-year-old memories probably isn’t healthy, but sometimes I think back to what they all experienced in those fateful last seconds, and I mourn and grieve all over again.

I can’t thank you enough for this post. There are very few mentions anymore of this accident on the internet. Every once in a while I will google the crash, and this site came up and I was amazed at the poignancy of the story. I can’t thank you enough.

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In Vermont there is a mountain called Camel’s Hump, into which a WWII-era bomber flew during the war. The south face of the mountain is a cliff - think of a smaller version of Half Dome – and when I was a kid you could look down from the top and see the wreckage at the base, although it is overgrown, now.

Here’s a brief description of the crash and the survivor’s ordeal:

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Thank you for sharing. My brother David Smith was one of the crew members on that flight. I was 10 years old when it happened and his death shattered my family into pieces that were never put back together. My sister has actually been to the crash site and was given a piece of the wreckage.