Thursday April 14, 2022; 9:01 AM EDT
- Friday, March 21st, 1975#
- Word spreads like fire on an Air Force Base. Doubly true if your father is a flyer. Even faster during war. We knew. I was the oldest, born at Mountain Home A.F.B. Idaho, where dad was flying tankers to refuel bombers and fighter craft in the air. Kevin, was the youngest, born at Kindley A.F.B. Bermuda, where dad was flying rescue missions to recover Gemini astronauts and their space craft. Following the space mission, he was transferred to McChord A.F.B. Washington to learn and fly the C-141 Starlifter to support the war effort in Vietnam. It would become the last base we served on.#
- Kevin recently asked me what I remember about that day. Friday, March 21st, 1975. #
- We were in our tenth year at McChord, a long tour of duty by military standards. My father, Charles F. Hall, had achieved the highest rank an enlisted man can. He was Chief Master Sergeant and the Lead Flight Instructor for the 8th. Military Airlift Command Squadron, responsible for the safety of every crew man in the squadron.#
- By this time, Charlie, as he was called by friend and crew, had over 10,000 hours flying the C-141 Starlifter into airfields in Vietnam. Twice a month he made the long trip from home to the battle zone. The “C” designation means Cargo, and Charlie carried the weapons of war into Vietnam; ammunition and agent orange, helicopters and men. And every trip he brought home the results of war, coffins with boys in them. Boys just barely older than me. #
- I was proud of my dad, as any boy would be. He stayed up late most nights at home, studying his manuals. As a flight engineer, he was responsible for the power plant- four Pratt and Whitney jet engines. As he put it, it was his job to get the plane up in the air and keep it there. The only thing the pilots did was point it in a direction! Dad had lots of stories, and we loved hearing them all. We had our own stories too. Growing up, it was not uncommon to have friends just disappear from school- because their fathers did not return home from a trip. I still remember a prior day in Bermuda, when an Air Force and Navy plane collided while dropping frogmen into the water on a practice run. The sharks were in the water, and kids disappeared from school the next day. #
- On that day, Friday, March 21st, 1975, we were expecting him home from Vietnam. I was in my Senior year at High School in my first class of the day. Word spread like wildfire visibly disrupting the entire school of over 1500 students- a Starlifter was down, somewhere in the Olympic Peninsula. Not far from home, the Olympics are like a huge fortress of mountains that stand guard over the Puget Sound, sheltering it from the violent storm of the Pacific Ocean. The Olympics are the last hurdle to clear in the long haul from Vietnam to McChord Air Force Base. On that day- a Starlifter was down, in the Olympics.#
- Mom#
- I heard the word and rushed for the phone to call home. Already kids were lined up to call home. When it was my turn, I dialed my dear sweet mom and will never forget that call. She picked up. “Mom?” “Kenny?” Her breathing was shallow and fast, deep panic in every breath. She feared I was the base commander calling to give her the most terrible news possible. But no, there was no official word yet, and she was enduring the worst fear possible not knowing.#
- Feeling the pain of my mother, I stuck another quarter in the phone and dialed the operator. Connect me to the Base Commander I instructed. No please in my voice, no hint of a request, just a military order on the phone. No one on a military base wants to talk to the base commander. And for someone my age, especially me- it usually means you are in big trouble. But the old man picked up the phone. He was calming. Yes, my father was listed on the manifest for that flight, but no, they did not have final word and were waiting for more details. He would call my mother as soon as he knew more. I hung up and ran to my car.#
- Between school and home was a lake with a bridge across it. The nice houses along the lake were hidden from view by hedges that grew into a narrow lane with lots of blind curves leading up to the bridge. It was my Le Mans, and the gearbox on my Volkswagon screamed as I hit second gear on my favorite curve, drifting across the line to straighten out the road. Emerging from the lakeside trees, I crossed that bridge like a bullet fired from a gun. #
- Less than 15 minutes after leaving school, I was home- and mom had just hung up the phone with the base commander. He had called to personally give her the news after confirmation. Although listed on the flight manifest, my dad had been pulled off the flight in Yakota, Japan, where they stopped for refueling. It turns out, the Starlifter had suffered a sudden depressurization event in flight out of Vietnam, probably from gunfire- and unknown to my dad, flawed dental work had left an air pocket in a tooth which erupted in violent pain during the depressurization event. Another crewman had replaced Charlie on that flight home.#
- Duty#
- No sooner had dad returned on the very next flight- but he turned around and left. As the flight instructor, it was now his job to join the Search and Rescue crew to look for survivors, inspect the crash site and file the accident report. It was a grim task. He knew every crewman on that flight- they were close friends. And it was a tough task. From the flight path they knew about where the plane must be, on Mt. Constance- the third highest peak in the Olympic Mountain range- and possibly the toughest.#
- Mt. Constance is on the Eastern side of the range, the last peak to get across when descending into McChord airfield from the Pacific. It rises from the Hood Canal at sea level up to 7,743 feet. Easy to spot from Seattle, it is the highest visible jagged peak. A rain forest enshrouds the base, rock and glacier are exposed at the peak. It is a tough climb on a good day, but a miserable climb when you are looking for your friends at a crash site.#
- My dad told me what they found up there, and I will not repeat the details out of respect. It is enough to know that the crew of 10 airmen and six passengers that were “jumping” home all died instantly. They never knew what hit them. They flew straight into the top of Mt. Constance at 600 miles per hour while in descent. It was early morning, still in the dark. They had a moment of surprise and confusion when the crash alarm went off, and then nothing. They hit the rocky ridge a mere 150 feet below the top. If they had begun their descent into McChord air field 30 seconds later, they would have missed the mountain and had a story to tell.#
- Sixteen souls were lifted into the deep blue yonder that day- and flags were lowered to half mast on base. We soon learned the events leading up to the crash were all avoidable- as is almost always the case. An Air Traffic Controller operating out of the Seattle Tacoma international airport had mistaken the C-141 Starlifter for a different plane, a Navy Grumman A-6 Intruder, and authorized the descent below 10,000 feet. My dads assessment however was that it was the crews fault. They knew better and were instructed to double check before beginning descent over the Olympic Mountain range. Charlie had flown that descent a couple hundred times. He speculated what they were doing. They were tired from too many hours of flying. They were likely disobeying orders and filling out their paperwork in flight- because when they landed, they wanted to go straight home and crawl into their own beds. Close to home, they felt safe- and their minds were tricked into complacency.#
- Honor#
- Years later, my mom shared with me how depressed my father was becoming those last few years flying in and out of Vietnam. He was sick and tired of bringing home caskets with boys in them. In those days, every casket was draped in a flag and reported by the media. And I was getting to the age where I could have been drafted myself.#
- That is most likely why dad invited me to attend the military funeral with him honoring the dead at the McChord Theatre. The week before, I had watched a Saturday matinee, and now I was among men dressed in full military uniform, medals of honor pinned to their chest, and Taps being played by a military dress band. It was a deeply moving ceremony that gave meaning to the lives of those men. It made my heart swell with sadness, and the pride of patriotism that gives strength to men risking their lives. After the soulful prayers and stirring music were concluded, we adjourned outside for a volley of rifle fire for each man, and fighter jets flew overhead in “missing man” formation.#
- We learned later that the Air Traffic Controller blamed himself for the accident and took his own life- so now their were seventeen souls that died when that Starlifter went down. And that was another tragic mistake. Who is to say the accident was his fault? I wish now I had asked my dad when I could. Maybe it was the fault of the dentist? Maybe had his work not been shoddy, my father would have been on that plane. Maybe he would have prevented the accident. He had done so before. And maybe he too would have been filling out paperwork. Maybe.#
- Survival#
- What I have learned since then, is that it is not enough to be prepared. And it is not enough to be lucky. You have to also carry foremost in your mind -all the time- that you are human, and subject to a set of traps that evolution has bred into our biology. Those men flying that Starlifter were tired, and they had their sights set on home. Having your sights set on safety can literally blind you. And that is just one of the many traps of biology we now understand much better.#
- If you, or someone you know engages in any kind of risky behavior like rock climbing, or whitewater rafting, or just driving a car down the freeway late at night- I strongly suggest reading Deep Survival: Who Live, Who Dies, and Why? Written by Lawrence Gonzales, it begins with a story of his father surviving a downed flight in WWII, and tells many other stories in the context of what we are learning about ourselves as biological beings revealed by new discoveries in cognitive science. It is required reading for the friends that join me in our outdoor adventures, so that we keep a good eye on each other! #
- Another lesson learned for those who survive an accident, or anyone looking back on a set of circumstances and wondering how and why they worked out the way they did, don’t! Never look back, never second guess yourself. Do not judge yourself or others! This world is too complex for human beings to disentangle with our minds. When you are tempted to do so, remember this Chinese parable as told by the late Zen teacher, Alan Watts- and stop that thought before it even gets started!#
- Once upon a time there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all his neighbors came around to commiserate. They said, “We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate.” The farmer said, “Maybe.” The next day the horse came back bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening everybody came back and said, “Oh, isn’t that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!” The farmer again said, “Maybe.”#
- The following day his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbors then said, “Oh dear, that’s too bad,” and the farmer responded, “Maybe.” The next day the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again all the neighbors came around and said, “Isn’t that great!” Again, he said, “Maybe”#
Thursday April 14, 2022; 9:01 AM EDT
- Friday, March 21st, 1975#
- Word spreads like fire on an Air Force Base. Doubly true if your father is a flyer. Even faster during war. We knew. I was the oldest, born at Mountain Home A.F.B. Idaho, where dad was flying tankers to refuel bombers and fighter craft in the air. Kevin, was the youngest, born at Kindley A.F.B. Bermuda, where dad was flying rescue missions to recover Gemini astronauts and their space craft. Following the space mission, he was transferred to McChord A.F.B. Washington to learn and fly the C-141 Starlifter to support the war effort in Vietnam. It would become the last base we served on.#
- Kevin recently asked me what I remember about that day. Friday, March 21st, 1975. #
- We were in our tenth year at McChord, a long tour of duty by military standards. My father, Charles F. Hall, had achieved the highest rank an enlisted man can. He was Chief Master Sergeant and the Lead Flight Instructor for the 8th. Military Airlift Command Squadron, responsible for the safety of every crew man in the squadron.#
- By this time, Charlie, as he was called by friend and crew, had over 10,000 hours flying the C-141 Starlifter into airfields in Vietnam. Twice a month he made the long trip from home to the battle zone. The “C” designation means Cargo, and Charlie carried the weapons of war into Vietnam; ammunition and agent orange, helicopters and men. And every trip he brought home the results of war, coffins with boys in them. Boys just barely older than me. #
- I was proud of my dad, as any boy would be. He stayed up late most nights at home, studying his manuals. As a flight engineer, he was responsible for the power plant- four Pratt and Whitney jet engines. As he put it, it was his job to get the plane up in the air and keep it there. The only thing the pilots did was point it in a direction! Dad had lots of stories, and we loved hearing them all. We had our own stories too. Growing up, it was not uncommon to have friends just disappear from school- because their fathers did not return home from a trip. I still remember a prior day in Bermuda, when an Air Force and Navy plane collided while dropping frogmen into the water on a practice run. The sharks were in the water, and kids disappeared from school the next day. #
- On that day, Friday, March 21st, 1975, we were expecting him home from Vietnam. I was in my Senior year at High School in my first class of the day. Word spread like wildfire visibly disrupting the entire school of over 1500 students- a Starlifter was down, somewhere in the Olympic Peninsula. Not far from home, the Olympics are like a huge fortress of mountains that stand guard over the Puget Sound, sheltering it from the violent storm of the Pacific Ocean. The Olympics are the last hurdle to clear in the long haul from Vietnam to McChord Air Force Base. On that day- a Starlifter was down, in the Olympics.#
- Mom#
- I heard the word and rushed for the phone to call home. Already kids were lined up to call home. When it was my turn, I dialed my dear sweet mom and will never forget that call. She picked up. “Mom?” “Kenny?” Her breathing was shallow and fast, deep panic in every breath. She feared I was the base commander calling to give her the most terrible news possible. But no, there was no official word yet, and she was enduring the worst fear possible not knowing.#
- Feeling the pain of my mother, I stuck another quarter in the phone and dialed the operator. Connect me to the Base Commander I instructed. No please in my voice, no hint of a request, just a military order on the phone. No one on a military base wants to talk to the base commander. And for someone my age, especially me- it usually means you are in big trouble. But the old man picked up the phone. He was calming. Yes, my father was listed on the manifest for that flight, but no, they did not have final word and were waiting for more details. He would call my mother as soon as he knew more. I hung up and ran to my car.#
- Between school and home was a lake with a bridge across it. The nice houses along the lake were hidden from view by hedges that grew into a narrow lane with lots of blind curves leading up to the bridge. It was my Le Mans, and the gearbox on my Volkswagon screamed as I hit second gear on my favorite curve, drifting across the line to straighten out the road. Emerging from the lakeside trees, I crossed that bridge like a bullet fired from a gun. #
- Less than 15 minutes after leaving school, I was home- and mom had just hung up the phone with the base commander. He had called to personally give her the news after confirmation. Although listed on the flight manifest, my dad had been pulled off the flight in Yakota, Japan, where they stopped for refueling. It turns out, the Starlifter had suffered a sudden depressurization event in flight out of Vietnam, probably from gunfire- and unknown to my dad, flawed dental work had left an air pocket in a tooth which erupted in violent pain during the depressurization event. Another crewman had replaced Charlie on that flight home.#
- Duty#
- No sooner had dad returned on the very next flight- but he turned around and left. As the flight instructor, it was now his job to join the Search and Rescue crew to look for survivors, inspect the crash site and file the accident report. It was a grim task. He knew every crewman on that flight- they were close friends. And it was a tough task. From the flight path they knew about where the plane must be, on Mt. Constance- the third highest peak in the Olympic Mountain range- and possibly the toughest.#
- Mt. Constance is on the Eastern side of the range, the last peak to get across when descending into McChord airfield from the Pacific. It rises from the Hood Canal at sea level up to 7,743 feet. Easy to spot from Seattle, it is the highest visible jagged peak. A rain forest enshrouds the base, rock and glacier are exposed at the peak. It is a tough climb on a good day, but a miserable climb when you are looking for your friends at a crash site.#
- My dad told me what they found up there, and I will not repeat the details out of respect. It is enough to know that the crew of 10 airmen and six passengers that were “jumping” home all died instantly. They never knew what hit them. They flew straight into the top of Mt. Constance at 600 miles per hour while in descent. It was early morning, still in the dark. They had a moment of surprise and confusion when the crash alarm went off, and then nothing. They hit the rocky ridge a mere 150 feet below the top. If they had begun their descent into McChord air field 30 seconds later, they would have missed the mountain and had a story to tell.#
- Sixteen souls were lifted into the deep blue yonder that day- and flags were lowered to half mast on base. We soon learned the events leading up to the crash were all avoidable- as is almost always the case. An Air Traffic Controller operating out of the Seattle Tacoma international airport had mistaken the C-141 Starlifter for a different plane, a Navy Grumman A-6 Intruder, and authorized the descent below 10,000 feet. My dads assessment however was that it was the crews fault. They knew better and were instructed to double check before beginning descent over the Olympic Mountain range. Charlie had flown that descent a couple hundred times. He speculated what they were doing. They were tired from too many hours of flying. They were likely disobeying orders and filling out their paperwork in flight- because when they landed, they wanted to go straight home and crawl into their own beds. Close to home, they felt safe- and their minds were tricked into complacency.#
- Honor#
- Years later, my mom shared with me how depressed my father was becoming those last few years flying in and out of Vietnam. He was sick and tired of bringing home caskets with boys in them. In those days, every casket was draped in a flag and reported by the media. And I was getting to the age where I could have been drafted myself.#
- That is most likely why dad invited me to attend the military funeral with him honoring the dead at the McChord Theatre. The week before, I had watched a Saturday matinee, and now I was among men dressed in full military uniform, medals of honor pinned to their chest, and Taps being played by a military dress band. It was a deeply moving ceremony that gave meaning to the lives of those men. It made my heart swell with sadness, and the pride of patriotism that gives strength to men risking their lives. After the soulful prayers and stirring music were concluded, we adjourned outside for a volley of rifle fire for each man, and fighter jets flew overhead in “missing man” formation.#
- We learned later that the Air Traffic Controller blamed himself for the accident and took his own life- so now their were seventeen souls that died when that Starlifter went down. And that was another tragic mistake. Who is to say the accident was his fault? I wish now I had asked my dad when I could. Maybe it was the fault of the dentist? Maybe had his work not been shoddy, my father would have been on that plane. Maybe he would have prevented the accident. He had done so before. And maybe he too would have been filling out paperwork. Maybe.#
- Survival#
- What I have learned since then, is that it is not enough to be prepared. And it is not enough to be lucky. You have to also carry foremost in your mind -all the time- that you are human, and subject to a set of traps that evolution has bred into our biology. Those men flying that Starlifter were tired, and they had their sights set on home. Having your sights set on safety can literally blind you. And that is just one of the many traps of biology we now understand much better.#
- If you, or someone you know engages in any kind of risky behavior like rock climbing, or whitewater rafting, or just driving a car down the freeway late at night- I strongly suggest reading Deep Survival: Who Live, Who Dies, and Why? Written by Lawrence Gonzales, it begins with a story of his father surviving a downed flight in WWII, and tells many other stories in the context of what we are learning about ourselves as biological beings revealed by new discoveries in cognitive science. It is required reading for the friends that join me in our outdoor adventures, so that we keep a good eye on each other! #
- Another lesson learned for those who survive an accident, or anyone looking back on a set of circumstances and wondering how and why they worked out the way they did, don’t! Never look back, never second guess yourself. Do not judge yourself or others! This world is too complex for human beings to disentangle with our minds. When you are tempted to do so, remember this Chinese parable as told by the late Zen teacher, Alan Watts- and stop that thought before it even gets started!#
- Once upon a time there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all his neighbors came around to commiserate. They said, “We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate.” The farmer said, “Maybe.” The next day the horse came back bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening everybody came back and said, “Oh, isn’t that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!” The farmer again said, “Maybe.”#
- The following day his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbors then said, “Oh dear, that’s too bad,” and the farmer responded, “Maybe.” The next day the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again all the neighbors came around and said, “Isn’t that great!” Again, he said, “Maybe”#