Showing posts with label Hill AFB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hill AFB. Show all posts

Sunday, September 27, 2020

Saved from a Blizzard by a Roach Clip

Stewie's roach clip had a smaller white feather

One of my favorite people on Hill Air Force Base, Utah, was Airman Stewart “Stewie” Caldwell. We both went through Basic Training at Lackland Air Force Base, went to tech school at Lowry AFB and were assigned to Hill. Stewie was a year older and had been at Hill for more than a year when I showed in October 1972. 

Stewie was in the Air Force because he had a low draft number and did not want to get drafted into the Army. He was from California and from his as-long-as-regulations-allowed hair to his tan to the sandals he wore when he was out of uniform, he was a laid-back Californian. 

He smoked weed when he could and became even more laid back than usual when he was high. Stewie had a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, the bright yellow color available that year. He kept a roach clip with a feather on in the glove box when he was on base. When he was away from the base, he would hang it from the mirror. 

On sunny day in March of 1973, Stewie decided he wanted to go to Salt Lake City. We went in his car. I don’t remember where we went in the city, but I remember seeing the clouds in the west shortly after we arrived and saying we better get back to the base. Western storms can go from clouds to sideways blizzard in minutes. 

We left Salt Lake City in falling snow. Ten miles north on I-15 we were in a sideways blizzard. The temperature had dropped below freezing. Stewie was driving looking through the triangular vision slit which was as much as VW windshield wipers would clear. We were rolling in the accumulating snow. I was wiping the windshield every couple of minutes because Beetle defrosters never worked. The skinny VW tires and rear engine kept us rolling when bigger cars were already getting stuck. 

Then Stewie yelled, “Fuck. It fell apart. Fuck!” The gas pedal and its mounting bracket were under Stewie’s heel. The pedal had come off its mounting and also from the cable that connected the pedal to the carburetors. I had owned a half dozen cars by this time and had fixed them with odd parts when needed. I slid under my side of the dash, reached for the cable and pulled. I revved the engine, then lost grip. 

There was a fitting on the end of the cable. I said, “Stewie, give me the roach clip.” It worked! I pulled the cable and got the roach clip behind the crimp fitting on the end of the cable. I could pull the cable and hold it. And I had the flexibility of a 19-year-old, so I could be under the right-side dashboard and work the gas with my left hand. Stewie had to wipe the windshield himself.

Stewie put the car in second gear and while I held the gas, he slowly released the clutch and got us going. When he stepped on the clutch, I released the cable and pulled it up again. The snow was really deep by the time we got to the gate at the base. Stewie opened his window and held out his ID. Luckily, we got waved through. The guard did not want to come out of the gatehouse, and we didn’t want to stop. We made it back to the snow-covered parking lot and stopped in a snow drift that seemed to be close to a parking space. 

Not our fate, thanks to the roach clip

Stewie told the story of the roach clip that saved our lives for months afterward. He was particularly dramatic when he said, "The feather got crushed. Dude, I loved that feather." 

Monday, September 10, 2018

Unforgettable Moment, B-52s Scramble, Hill Air Force Base, 1974

B-52 Bombers taking off on full throttle on Strategic Air Command alert

I was stationed at Hill Air Force Base, Utah, from 1972-74. Early in 1974, Strategic Air Command stationed a wing of B-52s on Hill.  

My duty station was four miles from the airfield on the north end of the base.  Sometimes I went to the hangar for electronic parts.  On a warm spring day, I happened to be in the hangar when I heard an enormous roar, then another, then another, and another.  

Six B-52s filled the air with black smoke and the howl of 48 jet engines on throttle. The planes took off one after the other less than a minute apart. When all six formed up in the sky above the base, the giant airplanes flew east toward the Rocky Mountains and disappeared.

It was magnificent.

I was 21 years old when those planes took off.  Those airplanes were about my age, first entering service in 1952, a year before I was born. Like me they have had a lot of maintenance, but still have an active life today. Some of them, like me, are in their 60s.  

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