More Anecdotes

Upon returning to Korat RTAFB, it was pretty much socked in due to thunderstorms and heavy rain in the area. As frequently happens, when the weather is down, so is the precision approach aid. Takhli RTAFB was our divert base which the Thai's maintained for F-86s after the EB-66 aircraft were moved to Korat RTAFB. Because it wasn't an operating U.S. base, support was minimal. Typically, the EB-66 crew had to refuel the plane and replace the drag chute. I was a student EW crew leader flying my first mission as Raven Four.

FURL was cleared for a surveillance radar approach for landing on Korat runway 06. Weather at this time was 2000 ft ceiling and 1 mile visibility. The penetration and vectors to final approach were normal. After checking in with the tower, the pilot elected to make the approach, see what the conditions were like and divert to Takhli, if necessary. All was going well down to the six mile point where the aircraft was cleared to the published minimum descent altitude (MDA) of 1140 ft. Descent below MDA was continued by the pilot, without caution from the navigator, even though neither had the field in sight visually. The navigator stated over the intercom that he "had the field and it looked clear." The backend crew monitoring the altimeter took that to mean he had a visual and did not think it unusual when the pilot descended below the MDA. Unfortunately, the navigator was referring to his radar presentation rather than a visual reference. The aircraft struck some trees well short of the runway at an elevation of more than 360 feet below the published MDA. This forced the airplane down and the pilot dead-sticked it into a tapioca patch approximately three miles short of the runway at 0319 hours local time. Before impact, he rotated his ejection handles to blow both his and the navigator's hatches. After hitting the trees, I made an attempt to release the topside exit hatch in the back but the impact came just as I removed the safety cover.
During the final impact, the retractable jammer control and antenna rack between Raven 3 and 4 in the back came crashing to the floor. The back side of the rack was the ladder to help exit the overhead escape hatch. After stopping, we could smell jet fuel and hear oxygen leaking into the cabin, a bad combination. We managed to extricate ourselves from the downward ejection seats, get the overhead escape hatch open and assist one another out to the top of the plane. As acting crew commander, I was the last one out. The rain had let up somewhat and we could see the flashing approach lights off in the distance. We were approximately 2.5 miles short and to the right of centerline. Most EWs from the rear exited down the left wing and gathered near a tree well away from the plane.

The aircraft was lying belly down, hatches open, landing gear swept back and missing the air refueling probe. I went forward on top of the plane to check on the pilot and navigator. The navigator was in a daze and I coaxed him into consciousness and helped him exit the aircraft. The number one engine was trying to cook off and fuel was everywhere, floating on top of all the water, running downhill toward the cockpit. The pilot's seat had ripped loose and was jammed into the instrument panel. He was conscious and he was busy getting out of his harness. About this time, the fuel from the leaking aft tank ignited in a large explosion with accompanying fireball. The navigator jumped over the side and broke his ankle in the process. I went next and the pilot followed. We gathered near a tree well clear of the aircraft and watched it burn. An AF Rescue Service HH-43 Pedro helicopter picked us up and transported us to the airfield. We were then taken to the hospital at the Army base attached to Korat RTAFB.

It's a miracle we all lived through the incident. Except for me, everyone was sufficiently injured that they were sent home via a med-evac flight. Most had back injuries and the pilot broke his leg. I had a sore back and a lacerated tongue. I imagine I was mouthing an expletive after the trip through the trees and at impact my tongue came out and my mouth came closed. We were all thankful we lived through the incident, naturally. I remember thinking of my new wife and nine-month-old daughter in California. A family friend who visited me in the hospital quickly informed my wife that I was OK in spite of what they might hear to the contrary. I was at the impact site in a couple days taking pictures of the wreckage.

After a couple visits with the flight surgeon, he cleared me to fly. I was scheduled on my first "C" model ride two weeks later but the scheduler took pity on me and decided I should fly the "E" for a few sorties. I was returning from my first mission after the accident and was greeted by the "C" model I was originally scheduled on departing Korat. It was experiencing runaway DC trim and the aircraft was uncontrollable. All six crewmembers punched out so we decided to circle to help locate beacons, etc. We heard someone on the radio ask "Who's shooting?" Turns out it was one of the EWs who was trying to scare some natives away because he was badly injured and didn't want to be entertained by the locals.

I still remember the incident like it was yesterday. The Air Force presented me with an Airman's Medal upon returning to Mather AFB, CA for heroism under non-combat conditions for helping the front-end crew. The rest of my tour was uneventful except for the operations officer's end of tour flight in an "E" model. I remember seeing 520 knots indicated on the airspeed indicator at what seemed like 10 feet off the runway followed by a steep climb to 10,000 feet, a wing-over and VFR landing."

Col Vern Luke, USAF (Ret.)

We transitioned from the RB57A at Sembach (and Landstuhl) to the RB-66B and RB-66C and moved to Spangdahlem to centralize the maintenance and operations of RB-66's at Spang. (Transferring the 30TRS from the 66th TRW to the 10th TRW)

The later designated EB-66 aircraft had four ECM operators in an aft compartment converted from a bombay. The downward ejection seats were considered to be especially dangerous as originally delivered. One of our aircraft from 10thTRW at Spang went down in the ocean off Spain( circa 1958 or 1959) and four of the seven man crew were lost. We all presumed the lost airmen were the poor EWO's with their downward ejection seats.