This section is provided for members to write, in their own words, of a significant event occurring during 306^th Bomb Wing operations. The intent is to document the thoughts, insight and reaction to events during the serious business of nuclear deterrence and combat by our members. Other areas of interest would be a member’s recollection of key events, personalities and decisions made in the early years of SAC and the 306^th Bomb Wing. These “stories” or “accounts” will be interesting to our members and certainly to their families in later years. They will supplement our history and in the end probably be more interesting.  

If a member has an event they want to document on this web site, please send it electronically to our Web Master/History, Jim Strickland. He will edit the “story” and present it to the Board of Directors for authority to include it in the War Stories section of our Web Page. If Jim's snailmailAddress is needed, send request by Email to the 306th BW Reunion Association Staff.

Be Careful What You Wish For

During the 306th's first ARCLIGHT deployment to Guam, our crew consisted of me as A/C, John Farrell, Co-Pilot, Brownie Inman, RN, Bobby Long, NAV, Dennis Rothe, EWO, and Jim Dooley, Gunner. About March 1967 we had been at Guam for about 5 months and were in a pretty good routine. Our crew was routinely selected for cell lead, and the schedule had stabilized to the point that we generally knew when our next mission would be. Guam was in a build-up phase, and additional B-52's and crews were beginning to arrive. One night in March we reported to the briefing room and learned that we were to be Blue 3 rather than cell lead, and I was naturally a little miffed until we learned that some of the newer crews were being given a crack at cell leads since we would be leaving in about a month.

The mission went well, as I recall, the target was south of the DMZ about 100 miles, and as Brownie released the bombs and we turned east off the target, we began our climb to higher altitude. The time was about 2100 hours, and I noticed that there was no horizon; it was one of those totally murky nights when one couldn't see the stars or the ground. About two thirds of the way through the turn, the electrical system bucked, and we lost all power. I had just enough time to tell the crew to buckle in, and to turn off all unnecessary power before the radios went dead, including the intercom. Meanwhile I'm making the transition to the gauges and noticed the emergency attitude indicator flopped over to about 135 degrees. Then, all lights to the instrument panel were gone, so I had no instruments, no airspeed indicator, nothing! John and I were hollering out the emergency procedures for the alternators, and I quickly looked out the windshield for the other aircraft.

Fortunately, they were both in sight, and I began turning the control wheel so as not to lose sight of them. Double checking the emergency attitude indicator once more, it was totally inoperative. Thanks, a double failure. That emergency attitude indicator was supposed to operate off the battery.....it didn't. When Blue 1 and Red 2 began drifting left or right, I'd turn the wheel a little toward them, when they started to stabilize, then I'd neutralize the control wheel. Naturally, with my adrenaline in charge, I was over controlling, and had to force myself to go easier, but not lose sight of those beautiful red tail lights about a mile or two in the distance.

I couldn't call out, the radios were dead. I knew that if I lost sight of Blue 1 and 2 we would be in a world of hurt with absolutely no visible reference to keep the aircraft upright. Also, I couldn't lean over to help John with the alternators as I had to keep my eyes on Blue 1 and 2. After what seemed to be about half an hour (but was probably only about 5 minutes) of this roller coaster ride, with no idea of the airspeed or altitude, John got one alternator on line, but not the one we needed for the instruments. He put it on the bus, and it held....! In a few minutes we got another one on, and we were home free with the instruments and radios now working. By then I was bathed in sweat, and I'm sure the other members of the crew were the same. We were very alert for the rest of that six hour ride back to Guam, and arrived safely on the ground. Maintenance debriefing was quite animated, and Gilligan's Island was a welcome respite for the tension and sweaty flight suits we got that night!

Someone was looking out for us that night. Had we been Red 1 or Blue 1, etc., it might have been a different story with no other lights to follow and no instruments. It would have been impossible to keep the airplane upright with absolutely no references. Thinking back on my reaction in the briefing room I realized that we had been granted a huge dose of luck by being assigned to the Blue 3 position vs. Blue 1, and now fully appreciated how fortunate we all were.

A few years ago when one of the Kennedy's flew into a similar murk in his light airplane, attempting a VFR let-down to Martha's Vineyard, I fully understood what he must have been faced with, especially not being instrument qualified. He didn't make it.

The rest of that first ARC LIGHT tour was uneventful. I had no problem with our crew being assigned as cell #2 or #3 positions again!

Alan Renshaw, Col.(Ret.) USAF
367th Bomb Squadron
 

"Without Hesitation, a Life of Service"

Sherm Wilkins wrote a book about his life. He played a prominent role in the early years of SAC and was a 306th Bombardment Wing Commander. The book is published by Legacy ONE, Kirkland, WA.

Preface

In these latter years of my life, friends and family members often elicit stories from my past about the famous people I have met and my participation in important moments in our nation's history. When people hear that I briefed President Kennedy, they often say, "Sherm, you've had an exciting life, you should write those stories." Even my daughters have said, "Dad, we don't know everything you did, write it down so we have a record."

These suggestions may have just been a ruse to keep me busy on the computer, but their encouragement worked. Here, at age 83, is my best effort to convey my life story.

Throughout much of my life, I have been a chronicler of events. I was the recording secretary for the Air Force's Force Estimates Board in the Pentagon and the national secretary of the Air Force Association. My professional life spilled over into my private life. I've kept records of the places I've lived and the homes Naomi and I have shared. I know most of the cars we've owned and the cities and countries we've visited. I recall the airfields, seaplane bases, and helicopter pads where I've landed. The planes I've flown and the names of most of the people I've flown with are in my logbooks. Along my life journey there have been some exciting times. This memoir highlights the most remarkable.

*Col. Sherman W. Wilkins

The book may be purchased at the Seattle Museum of Flight, East Marginal Way South, Seattle,
WA 98108-4097  (206) 764-5720, Exit 158 or http://www.museumofflight.org/Portal.asp?Flash=False.
 

WAS NUCLEAR DETERRENCE ALIVE AND WELL THE DAY JFK WAS SHOT?

You bet nuclear deterrence was alive and well that fateful day!  Yes, a 306 Bomb Wing crew was aloft over the North Atlantic on a routine "Chrome Dome" mission.  I say "routine" since it was an airborne alert seasoned crew.  At least four of us had flown the “Chrome Dome” predecessor, "Steel Trap" many times out of Westover AFB, and “Chrome Dome” many times out of McCoy AFB.  At the same time, I don't believe a man with any emotional/spiritual depth can be really relaxed with a load of nuclear weapons aboard and “Positive Control” decoding document hanging around his neck.  In that sense, it was anything but routine. We carried four nuclear gravity bombs (nucs), two "Hound-dog" air-to-ground nuclear missiles, positive control decoding documents, sidearms and a requirement that the gunner monitor the high frequency radio for a two minute assigned period out of each thirty minutes.

Our crew consisted of Captain Joe Hunt, Pilot (deceased 2004), Captain Cap Rowley, Co-pilot, Captain Ted Balash, EW, Master Sergeant Skosh Yow, Gunner, Captain Roy Rohde, Nav and myself Major Jim Connell, Radar-Nav.  We worked together like a well-tuned and synchronized symphonic orchestra.  Also, we had a third pilot aboard.  Third pilots were added to airborne alert crews after two occasions in 1960 at Westover when “Steel Trap” crews had lost autopilot early in the twenty-five hour flights.  On both occasions everyone in the forward compartment took their turn relieving the pilots at the controls.  I clearly remember the day over central Greenland when I heard the voice of co-pilot Lee Williams. "Jimbo, get your butt up here and give me a break before my arms fall off." Flying a B-52 straight and level is no big deal to any rated officer, but higher headquarters viewed it with alarm.  "Non-pilots at the controls with nucs aboard!"  Hence the third pilot requirement was born.  Typically, the third pilot was a desk jockey from the wing staff.  We were extremely fortunate that day.  Our third pilot was Colonel Sherm Wilkins, Vice Wing Commander, later Wing Commander of the 306th.

During the Cuban Crisis, SAC had kept eighty-eight BUFFS airborne for over thirty days.  After that crisis we had reverted to twelve, just as before the crisis.

Back to the Day JFK was shot.  We passed 150 miles North of an Ocean Station, and after giving our position report, a young "Coastie" said, "Are you up to date on world affairs?"

"What's up?” responded Cap Rowley.

"Late this morning in Dallas, the President of the United States was shot and killed.  Lyndon Johnson has been sworn-in as President of the United States."

Silence!  We were in shock. During that brief silence, my mind was racing. Would I survive to go home to my family?  Would my family survive to greet me?  Were the Soviets responsible for the assassination?  Would we receive a "Go Code"?  The anticipated scenario raced through my mind.  We would receive a radio message; we would authenticate that message.  We would bite open the documents that hung around our necks and decode the message and if it was a "Go Code" all of the positive control officers would consult for agreement that we were indeed being ordered to deliver our nucs. I would rendezvous with the tanker and Joe's hands would be as steady as ever as we took on our fuel load.  We would penetrate enemy territory and Joe and I would arm the nucs.  We would be relying on Ted and Skosh, both real pro's, to keep us alive: we were in good hands. Roy and I would program the

Hound-dogs, and Roy would launch them.  And then with Roy's help, I would deliver the four gravity bombs.  Having Roy by my side was reassuring.  Roy would be steady as a rock, as always.  We would then head for our post-strike base.  Would the fuel hold out?  Would the runway be still intact?  All of this raced through my mind in less than three seconds.

First to speak was Cap, "Ah! The southern whites got him!"

I was second to speak, "I hope to hell it was the southern whites rather than the Soviets!"

 Banter followed.  I had disciplined myself not to interrupt but lost patience.  In my auditorium voice I said, "GUNNER, WHAT IS OUR MONITOR TIME?" "THREE MINUTES AGO, SIR; WE ARE CLEAR!"

I then looked at my watch and realized that over two hours had lapsed since the assassination, plenty of time for President Johnson to order a strike. My tension was then somewhat reduced.  I consciously expressed my thanks to the Almighty and asked Him to keep up the good work.  It appeared that I would be able to return to the great life that my family and I were living.

About an hour prior to rendezvous with our tanker at the Northwest corner of Spain, we lost a second alternator.  We could of course, go to war with two alternators out, but safety dictated that we not cross the North Atlantic with two out.  Higher headquarters cancelled our tanker and we flew the route toward the Soviet Union until our fuel gauges dictated that we head for Moron AB in Spain.

We walked away from the BUFF that day with tremendous relief, but with great pride.  Yes, we could have and would have done the job, had we been called on to do so.  We were emotionally exhausted.

After a well-deserved rest in the BOQ, we found our Vice Wing Commander at the door, "I have the local Wing Commander's car and driver outside.  Let's go to Seville!"

Enroute to Seville, I reflected on how our “Chrome Dome” had gone from "routine" to an extremely puckering experience, to extreme pride. I had visualized myself delivering nucs a thousand times before.  That fateful day was the only occasion that I expected to deliver them.

I continue to be thankful that those five men were aboard that day.  Yes, we were a well-tuned and synchronized symphonic orchestra.

Major Jim Connell, USAF (Ret)
Copyright 2004

Crew S-86 Explains
Reverse Refueling Tactic.

Just before crew S-86 left Westover in 1961, they had taken off on a routine mission when they were called by the Command Post to rendezvous with a KC-135 aircraft holding over Utica, N.Y.. The Tanker could not get his gear down and could not make a landing. He was rapidly running out of fuel. They were directed to Reverse Air Refuel with the Tanker to give them enough fuel, until Boeing and the Crew could remedy the problem. Major Dunlap made contact and maintained contact for 38 minutes without one disconnect. The Tanker Crew had a clearance for 150 miles of Utica, and turned to every heading on the compass maintaing that clearance. At one point, Maj Dunlap commented-- "It appears to me, that as bad as he needs fuel, he would fly straight and level".

When this picture was taken, Crew S-86 had just arrived at McCoy AFB, their new assignment, and Major Dunlap is explaining to Major Monty Graham, the Operations Officer at McCoy, how they were able to accomplish the refueling. The Crew members are: Left to Right, Back Row: Sgt Jim Toomer, Gunner; 1Lt Jack Sutherland, Navigator; 1Lt Tom Carpenter, EW Operator; Capt Jack Ryan, Copilot; Major Tom Dunlap, Aircraft Commander. Front: Capt Will Speight, Radar Navigator; and Major Monte Graham, Ops. Officer.

Courtesy of Will Speight