Ray Schalk was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky and attended the University of Louisville, earning a BA degree in Psychology. He received his commission through the AFROTC Program.
Ray entered pilot training in Dec. ’63 in the class of 64-D at Craig AFB in Selma, AL. He learned to fly in T-37s and T-Birds. He remembers the flight training as being fun and a breeze. Academics, on the other hand, were tougher. B, C, and D classes got a disproportionate number of Academy guys. “Bad News” – they set a high curve for a psyche major. “Good News” – they were always there, willing to tutor/coach the less scientific students – even into the wee hours. SAC was powerful in those years, and as Ray remembers, a disproportionate share of UPT assignments were – 47s, with a few 52s, and 135s and even less of others – GO FIGURE! He was pleased when he got one of the B-52 slots.
The most notable occurrence during UPT (Undergraduate Pilot Training) – he married his college sweetheart, Alice, fitting the wedding in between T-37s and T-Birds. They still remember, and laugh, about their first days at Craig. Their apartment wasn’t ready; so they stayed in the BOQ, which had twin beds, of course. The solution was to push the beds together and rotate the mattresses. Every day, the maids would move them back. Once the maids learned about the “newlyweds” this stopped’, but still did a lot of giggling in the halls.
After the normal cold war B-52 training route – Nuclear Weapons, Castle AFB, and Stead – he was assigned to the 824th Bomb Squadron at Turner AFB, GA. Ray remembers how warm and welcoming everyone was, and the camaraderie of the squadron, especially when on alert – making it somewhat like a family and fraternity atmosphere. An interesting highlight of his Turner time was the Chrome Dome missions. He comments that the long, grueling missions left him feeling as if he had made a higher contribution to the Cold War effort. One unexpected perk came when their aircraft experienced a hydraulic pack failure in one of only two that controls the horizontal stabilizer. This called for “a divert” into Morion AFB, Spain. The crew was there for six days waiting for a new pack. Each day, they had a launch window that ended at 4 PM. Then they were free to “DO Seville” until the next morning. WOW!!! Then his wing served one TDY Arc Light tour in mid 1966.`
Upon their return, Ray moved with the squadron to the 736th Bomb Squadron at Columbus AFB in Mississippi. In June, he departed for his second Arc Light Tour. Upon return to Columbus, Ray departed the Air Force, having fulfilled his 5 year military commitment. He had 111 combat missions and was awarded the DFC and the Air Medal with 4 OLC. Ray believes that his Air Force career was more than ‘rewarding’ and one of the most character building experiences of his life.
Ray went to work for Procter and Gamble as a sales manager. He continued to fly C-97s, after joining the 105th MILALFT Sq,, ANG in Nashville, TN. P&G promotions took the Schalks to various U.S. locations. The first – to Chicago – arrested Ray’s military flying in that both Reserve and ANG slots were backed up. Ray retired from P&G in 2000 after 32 years of service. Ray and Alice have three children and six grandchildren. They split their time between their winter residence, in Clermont, FL and their mountain home in western North Carolina.
JOE NOTE: What follows are a couple of” hairy scareys” from the B-52 (BUF) world. The B-52 is propelled by eight jet engines, and it is humongous and oddly shaped, making for a paramount challenge for pilots and crews. Fighter pilots have some of the same basic aviating challenges and a few different ones, but all flying in war and peace is essentially risky. The men and women who did these jobs did them most of their careers with no accolades or recognition from anyone outside their own flying circles. It’s my hope over time to add more of this kind of thing, to keep alive memories of what it was like to fly in the Cold war, Vietnam, etc. Frankly, most folks sitting on their safe butts at home didn’t know about such things, or care. Vietnam was a time when warriors were not respected or supported. So it goes. No whines. The professionals went out and did their jobs because they knew they were important, not for “attaboys.” Ray published the first story in CREWDOGS. The second he did not. Here we go:
A Most Tragic Weekend by Ray Schalk
I want to relate two of my crewdog stories, both of which happened to occur over one horrific weekend. Like so many in the previous books, I have tons of memories; but none have stayed with me like these.
The time was the second weekend in July, 1967. I was the co-pilot on Crew E-39, along with Capt. Dick Dixon (P), Capt. Ken Palmer (RN), Capt. Sal Segreto (N), Capt. Charlie Goss (EW), and SSgt George Edwards (G). We were with the 736th BS from Columbus AFB, TDY to Guam. This was the beginning of my second Arc Light tour and I had only arrived ten days earlier. The first ’66 tour had brought no losses. I was ill-prepared for the two events of that tragic weekend and circumstances had me involved in both. The first was the July 7th Mid-Air where two birds were lost along with six on board. I was the co-pilot in RED 3. This incident is also chronicled by Ron Gable – Red 1 (CREWDOGS II) and Toki Endo – RED 2 (CREWDOGS V). The second event was the crash, the next day, of Brown II at DaNang where five were lost.
I’ll begin my memories of the mid-air event at our briefing, which began about 11 PM. The mission called for two cells involving six crews. The lead cell, RED cell, consisted of the March AFB Sutter crew in the lead, and the Columbus Westbrook crew as #2, and our Dixon crew as #3. Additionally, the airborne commander for the mission was Major General William Crumm, flying in RED 1. It was to be Gen. Crumm’s last combat flight before departing for stateside duty. I don’t remember if our crew knew that the General would be on the mission, but I do remember my introduction to him that night. He carried himself like “one of the guys”, while leaving no doubt that he was a true professional. My other two memories are that, unlike us, he wore a powder blue flight suit, and that he was dozing a little during the briefing. Now that I am 71+, I can appreciate that behavior. With the weight of the ongoing responsibilities of his position and the pending move and the eleven o’clock PM hour, he deserved a doze.
The mission’s objective was to strike targets NE of Saigon. After a pretty routine briefing and pre-flight, we took off at about three AM. Again, all went well, refueling and prepping for the bomb run – donning our chap kits, checking in with the MSQ site, closing in to close visual formation, and such. The VFC flying part was really fun, for the pilot at least, but all recognized the risk. The aircraft separation was, as I recall, wing-tip to wing-tip, nose to tail with 15 feet of vertical separation, which was dangerously close, especially for giant aircraft like these. The B-52 just isn’t as responsive as a fighter.
About four and a half hours into the mission, the trouble began. We had closed to the V formation and I was flying the aircraft. Dick and I had worked out that pre-refueling and bombing time would be on me, resting him to execute the more critical phases. We were in an 80 degree turn to the IP south of Saigon out over the South China Sea. . The MSQ called with identification problems and directed lead to change positions with #2. RED 1 verbally initiated the change and #2 acknowledged with the intention of descending and moving up into the lead position. At this point, Dick said, “I got it”, which I acknowledged. We discussed that we better give them a “wide berth”; I then radioed that we were moving out and slightly back to the left in the formation.
Now to digress for a moment. Remember this is being executed in a banked turn in a tight formation in a big aircraft. For anyone who hasn’t experienced this, holding your place on lead is difficult enough, even without jockeying around in the sky at 32,000 feet. From our upper position in the echelon in that banked turn, you felt like you were “falling into” RED 2 as he started descending and moving forward. All of this equals “Pucker time”!
An additional consideration which we observed was that RED 2 had been flying “tucked in tight” since forming up. Wingtip vortex-generated downwash from Red 1 would have #2 experiencing control pressures which they likely trimmed out. As Red 2 moved down, under, and forward, these pressures changed and would have been neutralized, inviting their left wing to start moving up. Just as they passed forward under # 1, the cell roll out was initiated. At this point they were sufficiently close such that interacting aerodynamic forces between the two aircraft made a collision unavoidable. SAC Accident Prevention Bulletin 127-1 (Oct 1967) confirms these conclusions.
Psychologists say that “significant emotional experiences” stay with you forever. I can still replay it in my mind. It goes like this. We were still in the turn – aft and out a bit – when lead started to rollout. “Oh my God!” (Remember how close we all are). I jumped on the yoke with Dick, trying to pull away from the inevitable. We were full left at the stops, but the old bird just responded “oh so-ooo” slowly. It seemed like an eternity until it took. As we rolled left, we watched them fly together. Lead was “rolling out” right onto #2. As they made contact, lead’s wing separated from the body as it struck #2. The impact occurred right in the 47 section, severing the tail. I can still see the gunner’s white helmet as the tail cart-wheeled away. Red 1 fell away out of sight. Tailless, RED 2 continued forward starting into a slight descent. I remember it reminding me of a flight of a paper airplane. Just forward of the 47 section, a small line of flames erupted and shot up the center of the aircraft and then out both wings. It looked as if someone had lit a match to a trail of gas. Then, WHOOM!!, the entire aircraft exploded in a ball of fire. Remember, we weren’t long off of our tankers and still had quite a load of fuel. James Bond movies were popular then and used huge gasoline explosions for effect. It was just like that! We flew through this huge fireball with debris going everywhere. A loose engine was heading right for our cockpit, seemingly in slow motion. I knew I was dead. Miraculously, it fell away, slipping just under our nose. Then, just that quick – measured in seconds – it was over. I remember the bright sunlight and the eerie quiet – as if nothing had happened.
I have the benefit of adding to this story the additional perspective presented by Red 1’s copilot, Wilcox Creeden, as he related his bail out experience in SAC COMBAT CREW (Nov 1967). Here is an extract and I quote, “I remember feeling the rush of air on my face and started to believe I had it made. My hopes dimmed when I saw I was approaching a huge ball of flame covering the exploding airplane. As I came nearer to this inferno, I could actually feel the hair on my head burning; I realized I had lost my helmet but it didn’t seem to matter now. Luckily I separated from my seat and fell short of the flames”.
For us, back in Red 3, the adrenalin kept us focused. My thoughts went to my fellow crew members. I realized I had no communication and assumed they didn’t either. The last words that I remember hearing were, “Mid-Air! Mid-Air, Mid-Air!” I remember saying to Dick that we were flyable and that I needed to tell them not to bail-out. To which, he said, “O.K.”, and gave me a thumb-back signal to go to the rear. When I returned and strapped in, I found the reason for my communication loss. Between the maneuvering and the fireball concussion, my mike chord must have been jerked loose.
The crew continued to check our air worthiness as we endeavored to finish our mission. Charlie, our EW, worked the radios – especially the HF handling crash info transmissions. The rest of us continued checklists to get the bombs to the target, which we accomplished. Then, as we climbed out, things slowed down and the impact of what we had experienced began to set in. On the way home, no one said anything. We just sat there, reflecting on what had happened, fighting off feelings of horror, helplessness, disbelief, and sorrow. The closest thing to it, for me, is to watch a You-Tube replay of the B-52 Fairchild crash.
An additional note is that we did get to visit George Westbrook shortly after his return to Guam. We all talked, but he was still somewhat sedated. His head was, as reported in Book V, swollen like a pumpkin, now all black and blue and his eyes were just little slits. He shared with us details of his rescue – struggling to get into the basket while the sharks were closing in on him – his story is something I remember. The rescue pilot dropped his chopper down to the water level pushing George under, thus driving the sharks away and allowing his rescuer to jump in and help. Credit to those rescue folks! Credit to George’s heroism as well!
The second event I would like to relate is the tragic Brown II crash on July 8th, 1967 at DaNang. This has not been chronicled in WWCD’s; and while my story is not first-hand, it is pretty accurate. Pieces have come together to give me some credibility as the storyteller. First, Swede’s crew was billeted in a trailer directly across from ours, while at Anderson. We knew them pretty well. After the mid air, we were grounded during the information-gathering period, and as such, were subsequently assigned duties related to Swede’s crash, which included handling personal belongings and such. So we were involved. Secondly, our gunner was rotating back to the states leaving us short a gunner. DaNang survivor, Al Whatley (Jugs), became our gunner for the five months of TDY remaining. Finally, a friend of mine, J.T. Chapin, has been working on recounting this crash for a long time. He has dug up many of the details and has been a valuable resource.
The accident unfolds with Crew E-08 from the 736th BS, Columbus, departing their Arc Light mission from Guam with targets south of the DMZ. The crew commander was Maj. Swede Brown (P), flying with Capt. Jim Davis (CP), Capt. Bill Pritchard (RN), Capt. Tony Johnson (N), Capt. Don Reynolds (EW), and TSgt. Al Whatley (G). After a successful bomb run, they climbed out and leveled off. At that time, things began to unravel. They lost their forward TR units. This meant that AC power was available, but some DC powered switches were inoperable. HF radios were lost, leaving only battery powered UHF communications. Most equipment relying on these switches were out with the important impact on fuel transfer. There was still enough fuel to get back to Anderson, but it couldn’t be transferred around to other tanks. They were left with only about two hours of flying time. Also, the bird would be pretty heavy when they did land. This had to have everyone rattled enough, and then came more trouble. Just minutes later, they lost #1 and #2 engines. Restart attempts failed. Other advice was forwarded but to no avail. Struggling to keep up, the cell tried descending. It became obvious that there was but one choice – leave the cell and get her on the ground. The decision was made to turn around and land back in Vietnam. They picked DaNang which had a 10,000 foot runway. All seemed doable and Swede started his approach. Al Whatley told his story many times when I was present and he always mentioned that they had discussed abandoning the aircraft and “punching out”. Al said Swede wanted them (the crew) to do that and that he would try to save the bird by himself. Al also said that they unanimously said “No” and agreed to trust their pilot and “ride her in” with him. Then the next crisis – the flaps wouldn’t extend. A lot of us remain unclear on this. Between SAC Hgts., Boeing, and on down, wouldn’t the flap extension issue and prep for a no-flap landing have been considered early on? In any case, it seems to have come upon them as a late surprise and Brown II initiated a go-around. They kept the gear down and returned to attempt the no-flap landing.
I’m sure Swede tried to “plant it” as short as possible. With a “no-flap” he would have needed every inch of runway. Some reports say that the bird touched down, then took a big bounce. Al never mentioned this to any of us, although he did say that he “popped the drag chute”. J.T. Chapin reports that eye witnesses had stories that varied somewhat. Exactly what happened on landing remains unclear. The devastating results are not. The aircraft ran off the end of the runway, sheared the front trucks and hit the ground sliding – disintegrating as it went – right into a mine field. Fortunately for Al, the tail sheared off leaving Al trapped facing the runway. The aircraft burst into flames, followed by explosions which resulted in the loss of the five forward crew members. Again, Al told us that he remembers sitting there, resigned to die, as the flames lit up the sky behind him and consumed everything else.
Now for Al’s miracle story. He said he could see firemen in suits, red lights, and vehicles. He wondered why they weren’t coming his way. He wasn’t aware of the mine field issue, of course. Al told us that he heard noise, as it was dark. He looked up and it was a guy trying to “chop him out” (I think I remember that the tech order says this can’t be done). But there he was, chopping away with an ax. Al wondered how he even got up there. He got Al out as other help arrived. I remember distinctly that Al said he asked the guy how he could have risked going into the mine field. He got the simple answer that it was obvious to this hero to simply run down, following the skid marks of the severed tail section. The collaborative research collected by J.T. Chapin has other variations of the details of Al’s rescue and they may be more accurate. However, these are my recollections. Chapin also reports that Al’s first concern on egress was, “How’s my crew?, How’s my crew?’ I would confirm this. He always said that his first worry was about those other guys. Familiar theme, huh? I would add that Al insisted that it was his choice to stay with the squadron, on Guam. There were concerns, in those times, about morale back at home when something like this happens. I really can’t say. After flying with Al as a fellow crew member, I surmise that there was no question for him, one way or the other. If you knew Al, you would completely agree.
One other important sidebar to be mentioned here. A tribute, here, should be made to honor the strong women who supported the crewdogs and their mission. “Not enough has been said!” We know what they did on the home front with children, et al. Others don’t! I would post that they experienced the same anxiety and fear that we did. They did this day to day, and in some cases, to the extreme – like when a disaster struck. Some readers may not know this. The AF tried to prepare them for the shock and grief that might come. They were briefed, making a list of friends to be there for support, and such; but it wasn’t enough. Consider a caravan of blue AF sedans entering the base housing area, with the lead displaying the CO’s flag. The “notification party” – also carrying the Chaplin and designated friends – would slowly proceed down the street. The wives in each house prayed it wouldn’t stop in front of their home. As it passed, after initial relief, they would then wonder who would meet this awful fate. If it stopped at a house, what would one do? One wife was unloading groceries after her commissary trip. They stopped, to which she threw her groceries in the air, ran into the house, and slammed and locked the door. “Gasp!” Whether you were this wife or any other, you were affected. This kind of worry always hung over their heads. They were a group of understanding women who were truly brave and tough. We salute you ladies!
I would conclude by saying that my crewdog days provided positive growth experiences in my life, more than any other non-religious, non-family experience. My contributions pale compared to what others did and gave. I appreciate this platform on which to write and share these events. Thanks to all of you fellow crewdogs and all those who supported us as well.
B-52 Collision, sans Photoshop. Ergo. The Real Scarey Deal
Trout Chaser Ray in North Carolina
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