It rained steadily for nearly two weeks at Moody AFB before finally clearing off. The toll on our daily flying schedule was staggering. We had to do some catching up. So, we were flying a full schedule on Saturday. I had the first SOF shift in the tower.
As a fairly new Major, I had been “VOLUNTOLD” to check out as SOF (Supervisor of Flying). During wing flying operations, a SOF is in the control tower to monitor ATC operations, keep track of all jets departing/arriving, help the controllers make logical decisions in abnormal situations, and be a source of help for aircrews in the event of an emergency. It was a less than desirable job because of the boring routine in the tower for half a day. SOF duty usually resulted in not flying that day, another reason to avoid it.
So, the wing’s herd of three F-4E squadrons start coming to life, taxiing to take off, and departing to bombing ranges and MOAs all over the southeast US. As SOF, my job was to track each jet’s departure on a clip board printout of the day’s flying schedule. As the Phantoms returned, each one was marked for arrival in the pattern and on the ground. This procedure was designed as a simple way to make sure no one disappeared amongst the busy coming and going of a normal daily flying operation.
It’s an absolutely gorgeous day for southern Georgia, crystal blue Sky from the horizon to straight overhead, a rarity. All of the departures are complete and enroute to their scheduled working areas. It’s quiet in the pattern and boredom is setting in. The tower controllers are chatting about various non business at hand stuff, trying to stave off boredom until the jets start returning in about 30 minutes.
Then, over the guard channel, the distinctive “Phew...Phew, Phew....” of an ELT breaks the boredom. Shortly thereafter, a call on the dedicated SOF frequency, “Phantom Seven (the SOF radio call sign), Phantom Seven, we’ve got a jet down in the low MOA!” A quick glance at my clipboard reveals this callsign and his wingman are working in the low MOA directly east of the base. I look to the east and see a large mushroom cloud of black and dark grey smoke curling upward above the tree line. Everyone in the tower cab is now staring intently at the rapidly rising smoke cloud. I answer the wingman calling me and he states there are two parachutes in the air. I turned to the tower chief, direct him to call Jacksonville Center, initiate an immediate Wing Recall of all jets, and instruct them to check in with the SOF when in radio range. He acknowledges while picking up the hotline to Jax Center.
My next move is to ask the wingman his fuel state. He’s got enough to hold overhead for awhile before calling min fuel. I then ask him for a geographic description of where the, now hanging in pine trees, parachutes are located. He gives me a description, plus a radial and distance from the Moody AFB TACAN for a cross reference. He also advises radio contact with both pilots on their survival vest radios and neither are reporting any serious injuries. I can’t hear the downed pilots radio transmissions because of their position in the trees about twenty miles away.
Next, I key up my radio to the Wing DO (Director of Operations) channel, advise him of the downed jet, two parachutes, that I’ve initiated a total wing recall of our jets, and intent to stack jets according to fuel state overhead the pilots until we can get ground units to their location. He concurs.
About this time, recalled Phantoms start calling in on the SOF frequency, some demanding WTF is going on and why they were recalled off the range. Normally, a recall is for bad weather at base. When I answer that we’ve got a jet down, two parachutes in the trees at this radial and distance off the TACAN, and query their fuel state, the demeanor changes to a more cooperative level. I then, in coordination with the tower chief who is on the hotline with our approach control, start directing jets to stack overhead our downed pilot and wso. Those jets with the most fuel go to the top of the stack. Those with lesser amounts to the bottom so they can easily squirt out and land. It was getting quite busy on the radio and phone as more jets checked in. The Wing DO called on the radio and asked for an update. I asked him to stand by and I’d call back. He copied and stated to the Wing Aircrew Meeting, that he was conducting, “the SOF is little busy”.
In the midst of the chaos, the tower chief turns to me and says, “Sir, a Georgia State Police helicopter is flying down the interstate, saw the crash, and asked if he could be of assistance”. I replied, “Have him land on the ramp here in front of the tower and stand by”. At the time we had no RESCAP helicopters station at the base. I figured this would be the fastest way to scoop up our two guys. I advised the DO of this development. He agreed and stated that he would ride the helo to the crash site. I suggested also going because of my detailed map familiarity of the crash site and that a replacement SOF was on the way to stand in for me. “See ya on the ramp”, he replied. My replacement arrived and I gave him the rundown on where things stood, especially the the remaining jets in the stack overhead the crash site.
I met the boss at the helo, we introduced ourselves to the two State Troopers, and boarded. Map in hand, I showed the pilots the general area to fly towards and the radial/distance off the Moody TACAN. We quickly lifted off and headed to the scene. Approaching the remains of the still smoldering Phantom, we could see the two parachutes hanging in the trees with no one attached. The Pilot and WSO, using their survival training, had deployed tree lowering devices and descended to the rain soaked ground well before our arrival. There were several vehicles in the immediate area, to include two ambulances from the base hospital. We landed, shut down, and proceeded to the nearest ambulance where our guys were already loaded up and being checked by the medics. Both were still in the midst of an adrenaline rush but, other than minor cuts and scrapes from dropping through the trees, were uninjured. The ambulances beat feet out of there for the base hospital.
The remaining vehicles included a couple of local Sheriff’s Deputies and a crash recovery vehicle from the base. We were amazed at their presence in such a short time. The obvious question, how did you get out here in the middle of the forrest so fast? Unbeknown to us at the time, the State Police helicopter pilots had alerted the 911 system when they saw the F-4 crash. As our emergency vehicles exited the base, a Sheriff Deputy scooped them up for escort with lights and sirens. These Deputies, intimately familiar with the back country roads in the area, quickly led our vehicles to the crash site. This resulted in our two guys back, in the hospital, just 45 minutes after they ejected from their Phantom.
So, what happened? The two F-4s were doing low level intercepts against each other as part of our Saturday catch up flying. The incident jet first experienced a single fire light. Talking with the pilot later, he explained (probably for the 50th time) that the fire light certainly got their attention. In the midst of accomplishing the BOLD FACE procedure for the engine fire light, the jet pitched uncommanded nose down, he pulled back on the stick, and felt a mushy response. Simultaneously, the second engine fire light illuminated, along with numerous annunciation panel lights, and a huge fireball enveloping the tail of the jet. As he continued attempts to zoom for altitude, the nose pitched down and up a couple more times, and the fireball grew larger as it steadily moved forward. He likened it to the fire ball of the Challenger explosion. With things rapidly getting out of control, he commanded an ejection and gave it back to the taxpayers.
