Trent Ruble's Blog: The Other Way It Is - Posts Tagged "starlifter"

In the early 1980s, while I was enlisted in the United States Air Force, I had the opportunity to visit communist East Germany. It was known among aircrew members at the time that, if we wore our uniforms, we were allowed to enter East Germany and return safely to the West. Although I very much considered the Soviets and their satellites to be our enemies, I'd always been fascinated by the mystery of the communist world. So, when my fellow airman, Todd Vangundy, and I found ourselves assigned to a mission to Tempelhof Airport in West Berlin, we made sure to pack our dress blues. In those days we were not allowed to wear work uniforms (flight suits) off base like service members do today.



Upon our arrival in Berlin we quickly unloaded the giant cargo plane and then proceeded to our room to change clothes. We next made our way to the Berlin Wall's Checkpoint Charlie, the designated crossing for Allied military personnel wanting access to East Berlin. However, prior to crossing over to the dark side, we were required to attend a briefing. The only thing I remember from the briefing is what we were told about returning; once we entered the passageway back to the West, we were not to stop walking for any reason.

At the end of the briefing we proceeded through the Iron Curtain to East Berlin. If I recall, the crossing was only about 20 or 30 yards long. At the other end was a gate or door on one side and a guard shack on the other. We proceeded through the gate and into the red state.

Todd and I toured around the city noticing immediately how quiet and drab it was when compared to the West. However, the people we met were warm and friendly. We ate lunch in a hotel where, at least on the inside, it seemed quite lively. Upon paying our bill I received coins back as change and noticed that they felt more like plastic than metal. I still have one of those plastic coins today. After several hours we made our way back to the crossing. It was here that I nearly caused an international incident.

Todd and I approached the gate and he went through first. I followed and instantly heard the East German guard yelling at me in German. At that time I wasn't far removed from my high school German class but, even so, I couldn't understand anything the guard was saying. It didn't take long to figure it out, though. Upon looking back I saw the guard pointing at the wide open gate while screaming at me. I knew he wanted me to return and close the gate. Even in the midst of the situation I wondered why the gate didn't close automatically. But I wasn't going back. All I could think of at the time was what we'd been told in our pre-crossing briefing; "Whatever you do, do not stop walking once you start through the passageway." I, for one, did not want to spend the rest of my life in the Eastern Bloc! I continued walking and the guard continued screaming. I have never been so relieved as I was when I was completely through that passageway and back in the good old Western World! I have always hoped that, because I'd left the gate open, some desperate East Germans were able to escape! (Not likely.)

From 1963 through 1967, the Lockheed Corporation (known since 1995 as Lockheed Martin) delivered 285 "Tubes of Pain," officially known as C-141 Starlifters, to the United States Air Force. The giant cargo planes represented a new, jet-propelled, long-range alternative to the propeller-driven cargo planes of the past. The high-speed, high-flying planes were capable of carrying up to 45 tons of cargo or 200 troops. Together, they transported millions of tons of military personnel and equipment, including a serious amount of MAC artifacts (aircrew souvenirs), to points around the world until they were taken out of service in 2006 (The Aviation Zone).



The most well-known of these massive air machines was the "Hanoi Taxi," made famous in 1973 as the first aircraft to return American prisoners of war to the United States from Vietnam (National Museum of the United States Air Force). The Taxi was again called upon for evacuation services after Hurricane Katrina struck the American Gulf Coast in 2005 (Air Force Reserve Command). This storied aircraft can still be seen today at the National Museum of the United States Air Force near Dayton, Ohio, where it is on permanent display.



I served as a loadmaster aboard Starlifters from 1980 to 1984, which put me in charge of loading and offloading cargo and of any in-flight passengers. Being "in charge" was a little awkward at first when I was fresh out of tech school at age 19. But, the more experienced loading crews, sometimes 20 year veterans, understood the situation and were usually very respectful about it. I was assigned to the 20th Military Airlift Squadron at Charleston Air Force Base, South Carolina. From there we flew to locations throughout the Americas, as well as Europe, Africa and Asia. It was peacetime and our missions were generally routine with an occasional flash of excitement, such as the International Incident and the International Incident, Part 2. Our squadron was also involved in missions supporting Operation Urgent Fury; the eviction of the Cubans after their ill-advised October 1983 invasion of Grenada.
Fort Wayne, Indiana, 1997
Photo by Tami Ruble

After four years of flying with the well-trained, yet sometimes inexperienced, Air Force pilots, I knew I'd cheated death long enough (see In-Flight Emergency!). On April 11, 1984, I said goodbye to the Starlifter never to fly on her again. I was, however, fortunate enough to board a 141 one last time in 1997 as it was parked in static display at an airshow in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I enjoyed the opportunity to reminisce while, at the same time, showing my wife and sons the great airplane I once called home. It won't likely happen again, though, as the Air Force, since 2006, has been dismantling the once great airships in the Arizona desert. A sad end to the truly great work-horse of the sky; the Lockheed C-141 Starlifter.

Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Arizona

It was near the end of the Cold War when I served as an aircraft loadmaster in the United States Air Force and, as such, spent many hours in the air as we traveled the globe supporting our mission. During that entire time, there was only once that I felt my life was really in danger. In my four years of flying, there was just one in-flight emergency and it occurred immediately after take-off on what would have otherwise been a routine mission back in 1982.



Our 20th Military Airlift Squadron crew that day consisted of our Aircraft Commander, Major Ira "Dan" McCauley, the co-pilot, Captain Stephen MacCauley (no relation), flight engineers Staff Sergeant Joseph Del Sordo and Sergeant Felix Serret, and loadmasters Airman First Class Wilfredo (Willie) Pino and myself. Our aircraft was a 16 year old C-141B Starlifter based at our squadron's headquarters; Charleston Air Force Base, South Carolina.

The crew had been on "alert" status, which meant the plane was made ready and then sealed. A few planes were, and probably still are, kept in this condition at all times in order to be ready in the event they are needed immediately. On this day, just such a situation required our activation. Upon our alert we loaded our gear, seated the 17 passengers and took off from Charleston en route to Athens, Greece.

Shortly after take-off the plane became uncontrollable, rolling first to the right and then to the left. Major McCauley immediately declared an in-flight emergency and then, together with Captain MacCauley, fought to regain control of the giant machine. Meanwhile, as I tried to keep myself composed in front of the concerned passengers, one of them pointed out that another crew member was smoking while making the sign of the cross on his chest. This in spite of the fact that Major McCauley had turned on the "No Smoking" and "Fasten Seat Belts" signs. I explained that our crew was doing everything necessary to keep us safe.

At Major McCauley's request, myself and another crew member looked out the windows and reported the positions of the ailerons. The way I remember it, when the pilot would steer one way, both ailerons would go down and then both would go up when he turned the other way (as opposed to one up and one down like they're supposed to). Major McCauley eventually corrected the problem using some creative thinking thus saving all our lives. My understanding is that he depowered the ailerons and used tab operable to, in essence, fly the ailerons. Evidently that wasn't the intended purpose of the tabs. Please understand that I am not a pilot and am relaying the story as I remember it from 35 years ago, so the technical details may not be exactly correct. What I do know is that it was way scary.

Upon our return to Charleston, I was very happy to be safely on the ground and was ready to go home and recover from this terrifying experience. However, the Air Force had other plans as they still needed their mission completed. They insisted we get right back on the horse. Our crew, passengers and cargo were transported to another airplane and off we went.

I want to take this opportunity to thank my fellow crew members, especially Major Dan McCauley, for their professionalism that day. Because of their training and determination, 23 lives were saved, including my own.

Photo from the August 1982 edition of The MAC Flyer

Wouldn't it be scary to discover the person piloting your airplane had never done it before, had no training and had no idea what he was doing? That's exactly what happened one night in the early 1980s in a US Air Force C-141 Starlifter over the Mediterranean Sea.

Our crew was flying across the sea from Cairo to Athens with a load of cargo and just a few passengers. Like me, our plane was about 20 years old. I was the loadmaster. I was responsible for the on and off-loading, figuring the center of gravity and supervising passengers. So, unless we had passengers, my job was usually over once the plane took off. On this particular flight, it was late at night and the few passengers on board were sleeping. This meant some down time for me.

I climbed into the cockpit and sat in the jump seat. This was a small seat between and just behind the pilots' seats. I liked to do this because I felt more a part of the crew when I wasn't isolated in the back. Plus, I could see out the windows much better, although being over the sea at this time of night meant seeing only blackness.

After some time the flight engineer, who sat directly behind the co-pilot, got up to stretch his legs or use the bathroom. In his absence, the pilot, who also served as the aircraft commander, sat down at the engineer's panel. This was a panel full of gauges monitoring systems such hydraulics, pressurization, fuel, etc... It is my understanding that the aircraft commander must be qualified at this and every position on the plane, so we were not in any danger as he began adjusting things.



I said, "If the pilot can be the engineer, I think the loadmaster should be the pilot!" Of course I was kidding as I had no idea how to fly that airplane, nor did I want to. But the pilot, whose name I would not reveal even if I did remember it, said, "Sit down, Buddy," while pointing to the pilot's seat. I then started backpedaling saying, "I was just kidding. I wouldn't even know what to do." "Don't worry," he said, "I'll help you."

So, I sat down in the pilot's seat. In front of me was the yoke that looks somewhat like half a steering wheel and beside me to the right were the four throttle control levers, one for each of the jet engines. Behind the yoke was an array of gauges, one of which was a brown and white ball with an image of the airplane superimposed on it to indicate our position in relation to the horizon. All of these were intimidating to me.

After a few moments I realized I was doing pretty well as the plane was cruising along just as it had been. The pilot then disconnected the auto-pilot but, even then, the aircraft remained stable. I said, "This is easier than I thought." He said, "Why don't you turn your wheel just a little?" I did as he said and suddenly the airplane not only turned in that direction, but stated to fall from the sky! He said, "Now, increase the power." I pushed the throttles forward and the plane started to climb. He then instructed me to turn the airplane back to the direction we'd been going but, as I did this, it began to fall again. The brown and white ball was now in full wobble. I increased power again which caused me, and likely everyone else on board, to feel as if we were going to throw up. It was like an out-of-control roller coaster seven miles above the Earth! All the while, the pilot was calmly speaking to the Egyptian air-traffic controllers as if everything was normal. I wondered how a pilot could possibly keep all this under control while at the same time trying to decipher their poor English.

I told the pilot that I'd had enough of this adventure and asked if he would take over. After switching positions, I told him that I very much appreciated the experience but I didn't need to do that again. I returned to the cargo compartment where I felt much more comfortable. I found the previously sleeping passengers now awake and wondering if we'd had to avoid an especially bad storm. I explained that there had been a new pilot gaining some experience under the close supervision of the aircraft commander and they were never in danger. I wondered if that were true.