Chanute Air Force Base

After graduation from the University of Utah (The U)., I went into the United States Air Force as a Second Lieutenant. I had been a part of the Air Force ROTC program at the U. I had always loved airplanes and at one time thought I'd like to be a pilot. When I was given my first Air Force physical, it was discovered that I was colorblind. One of the physical requirements for an Air Force pilot is normal color vision. So I could not become a pilot in the Air Force.

I finished my graduation requirements at the end of Winter Term. The U was on a three term per year program, and due to a change in my major course of study, I took two extra terms to finish my major in Zoology and Entomology. I had finished my ROTC program in 1966 and then finished my graduation requirements in early April 1967. Then I waited for my first assignment in the Air Force.

I first received orders to attend Munitions Officer Training School, but discovered that that program also required normal color vision. So I had to wait for a new set of orders. That assignment came  for Aircraft Maintenance Officer training at Chanute Air Force Base at Rantoul, Illinois. Rantoul is about 15 miles north of Champaign/Urbana, where the University of Illinois is located.

The Air Force moved us from Grandma's house to Chanute. After our furniture left we loaded the car, and headed out. I had recently purchased a used '64 Chrysler to replace my worn out '57 Chevy. So we traveled in relative comfort, as it was a big spacious car. Our first stop was at Hill AFB to pick up an advance on my first paycheck to pay for our travel expenses. We got off to a late start waiting for the movers, so we only made it to Little America, Wyoming before our first night's stay. The second night we stopped at a motel in Omaha, Nebraska, not knowing that we'd be moving back there soon. The third night was in Peoria, Illinois.

The next day we drove on to Chanute. Fear of the unknown caused me to drive past the entrance to the base two or three times before I worked up the courage to drive in. I was directed to the housing office. They said there was no on base housing available and assigned us to a motel near the base. We spent the first month in local motels. There was some rule that we could only stay in one motel for six nights, so we were shifted from one to another for four weeks. When we finally got into base housing, we were assigned a three bedroom townhouse apartment at 75 Kiernan Dr.  Our new neighbors said the unit had been available for over three weeks. The sergeant in charge of assigning base housing either liked messing around with new young officers, or he was getting kickbacks from the motels. We later found that he had been severely disciplined for the way he mishandled his duties.

The first day we arrived at the base, May 4, 1967, I reported in to the school and was assigned to a class with ten other brand new Second Lieutenants and one First Lieutenant. Since there were twelve of us in the class, we dubbed ourselves "The Dirty Dozen" after a recent popular war movie of that name. The school lasted eight months.

Most of the classes were taught by recent graduates of the same school. The course was broken into three week blocks. Classes were held for five to six hours in the morning, or five to six hours in the afternoon, with the rest of the day for personal study. I soon discovered that my background in the sciences made most of the sections easy for me. I seldom had to study for more than an hour outside of class. We were encouraged to do physical training during that personal time also.

Several of the other members of the class would go to the base gymnasium for weight lifting. I joined them most days. We would also run around the perimeter of the base as part of that exercise. That was the first time I realized that I enjoyed running. I also discovered that I had pretty good speed, as I could outrun all of the others in my class. Swimming had been a good preparation for running.

I sometimes refer to this time as a paid eight month honeymoon, as I had a lot of time to spend with Georgia and Heidi, with almost no pressure from my courses. Lyle was born half way through the course at the base hospital. He had his own room in the apartment, but the only piece of furniture was a bassinet. When he would wake up he would swing his long arms and hit the sides of the bassinet, and the sound would echo in the room and scare him.

Our neighbors on either side were the Paul Zilic's, who were from Chicago, and John and Peggy Christian, who were from Louisiana. We got to be good friends with both couples.One of the neighbors had a big cat that Heidi loved. It was almost as big as she was, but she would pick it up and walk around with it all the time. Another neighbor was from the South, and they greeted everyone with, "Hidee!" They got a big kick out of saying, "Hidee, Heidi!"

Our apartment was infested with cockroaches. They were German cockroaches, which were brown and about an inch long. They only came out at night, but would crawl all over the kitchen after the lights were out. If we went into the kitchen and turned on the lights, they would fly, and it seemed that they always flew right at whoever came in. Then they would scatter and disappear. We had the housing office try to get rid of them, but nothing helped. As we were cleaning up preparing to move out, we found their nest. A previous tenant had knocked a box of birthday candles off the top of the refrigerator into the coils on the back, where they had partially melted and provided an ideal place for the roaches to breed.

There was a branch of the Church that met in one of the buildings on base. Major Monsen was the Branch President. I was called as the branch genealogy specialist. I started working on my own family history, and found a book about Georgia's family which indicated that she was descended from John Alden and Priscilla Mullins of the Mayflower company. She also descended from European royalty, including The Emperor Charlemagne. My mom sent me what information she had, but I really had little to go on for my family.

Georgia was able to work on craft projects for the branch. The Relief Society had a bazaar every year where they sold hand-made gift and decor items as a fund raiser for the branch. It was held in downtown Rantoul, and provided much of the branch's operating funds for the year.

One time of excitement while we were there was caused when the Air National Guard plane carrying the governor of North Dakota ran into trouble while returning from a governors conference. The nearest base at the time of the problem was Chanute. One engine had caught on fire, and actually fell off the plane. Then one of the landing gear would not come completely down. They circled the base for hours trying to burn off fuel, preparing for a crash landing. We stood out near the runway watching. Just before they were to crash, they cycled the landing gear all the way up again and it came down all the way. They were able to land without crashing.

While we were at Chanute, we received orders for our next assignment. I was assigned to the 3902 Air Base Wing at Offutt AFB, Nebraska. We left Chanute on December 8, scheduled to start at Offutt on January 4, 1968.

We went back to Salt Lake for the holidays. We stopped for a couple of days in Omaha to find a place to live when we came back. We found a cute little house that was for rent, gave them a deposit and headed for home.

An Airplane is Lost
Only a couple of the instructors had actual field experience. One was a captain who had been a pilot. He told us a story of what happens when things go wrong on an aircraft. He had been the copilot on a B-47 bomber. This was a 6 engine jet, with a pilot, copilot, and navigator/bombardier as the standard crew. It was equipped with ejection seats in case of a problem. The navigator sat in the nose of the plane, below the pilot and copilot. His ejection seat was supposed to go out downward, while the pilot and copilot ejected upward. On this flight, a mechanic had gone along for the ride. He sat at the top of the ladder leading from the cockpit into the navigator compartment.

They had been on a night training mission, somewhere over Texas or Oklahoma, refueling from a KC-97 tanker. The biggest problem with this scenario was the fact that the slowest speed a B-47 could fly before it stalled out and fell was faster than the KC-97 could maintain in level flight. So they had to start at a higher altitude and go downhill to keep the airspeed up. In this case the pilot of the KC-97 felt they were getting too low before the B-47 had filled all tanks. He broke off the mission and headed home. The B-47 started to climb back up to a higher altitude, but that moved the fuel in the nearly empty rear fuselage tank away from the in-tank pump, which requires fuel to keep it cool.

The pump overheated and ignited the fumes in the tank. The explosion blew the tail off the plane. The sudden movement also broke the right wing almost off. That wing was still attached at the front edge and swung toward the front of the plane. The pilot and copilot immediately ejected. Our instructor, the copilot, was afraid of ejecting and always told himself he wouldn't do it. But when the time came, he did it. The navigator pulled the handle on his ejection seat, but nothing happened. Just then the right twin engine pod, still under full power, came through the side of the plane and shoved him and his seat out the left side. The mechanic had no way to get out and just rode the craft into the ground where he died instantly.

The navigator was knocked unconscious, still strapped in his seat. As he fell he finally awoke and freed himself from the seat. That was supposed to automatically open his parachute, but the lines were cut, and it did not. He was in freefall for awhile, and finally pulled the handle that opened his chute. It was pitch black and he had no idea how close to the ground he was. He was falling fast, the chute opened, swung up to the side once, and he hit the ground. He dislocated both hips and had lots of other injuries, both from being pushed through the side of the plane, and from hitting the ground.

Our copilot friend had a different experience. His seat separated from him automatically, and his parachute opened just fine. The problem was that he came down in a thundercloud, and got caught in an updraft. The storm carried him along with it for several miles. When he finally came down, he didn't know where the ground was either, and he sprained both ankles. He laid there on the ground for a couple of hours before he finally saw some lights come on in a nearby farmhouse. He couldn't walk, so he crawled until he got to the barn where the farmer was milking his cows. The farmer had no phone, so he had to wait another several hours until the farmer finished his chores before he could get into a town where he could make a phone call. He called his wife, who was very relieved, as she had been told that he was missing and presumed dead.