I have a long personal military history, as I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force in 1970, finished a tour of duty, and went on to serve in the Air National Guard, the Army National Guard, and the U.S. Army Inactive Reserve in that order.
However, during my 35 years of military service nothing, I
mean nothing, surprised me more than what I observed one day during a 40 day
stint of active duty in my home state of Florida.
The 2nd Battalion, 116th Field Artillery
(National Guard) Battalion, including half of the other reservists in Florida,
along with twenty five thousand regular Army troops had been mobilized in the
wake of the devastation of Hurricane Andrew, and assigned to the Homestead,
Florida area.
Our battalion of about 400 troops “set up camp” on the grounds
of the Metro Zoo. While not the focus of my story, it is interesting to note
that an AID’s research facility on the grounds of the zoo was virtually
destroyed by the hurricane, and numerous squirrel monkeys escaped, and
scampered away “to the Lord knows where.” Our unit members were informed that,
should we see one of these HIV infected monkeys we should not hesitate to lift
our M-16’s to our shoulders and blow them away. To my knowledge, none of these
monkeys were seen, or ‘dispatched’ by our troops. Some people have conjectured
they made their way to the Florida Everglades, and are still breeding
disease-ridden offspring there.
Be that as it may, during the course of our hurricane duty my
section chief and I were standing at the entrance of what had once been an
upscale subdivision called “Country Walk;” (which by now could only be
described as a “complete mess”).
Pt. 2
Sergeant Hoehne and I were tasked with checking the ID’s of
people who drove up to the entrance of the subdivision to ascertain that they
were residents of what had, a few days earlier, been $250,000-$500,000 homes;
(and this was 30 years ago).
I suppose we had stood at that entranceway a couple or three
days when a middle-aged man walked up to us from a nearby home, or what had
been a home, and began speaking to us. He told us that he and his wife had
decided to brave the hurricane, and remain in their house, rather than
evacuate. Needless to say, within minutes of the storm’s arrival, “Jim” and
“Sarah” rued the day that they made this fateful decision. The house began to
shake. The windows began to break. The living room ceiling began to collapse.
And they were forced to take refuge in their bathroom. Stepping into the
bathtub together, they held hands, and told each other “Goodbye.” Thankfully,
they lived through their horrendous experience. Jim went on to tell us that
they had already made an appearance on 20/20, and shared their ordeal with a
national audience. (I have never been able to locate a copy of this video,
however).
But in spite of everything I have shared with you thus far, I
have yet to mention the primary focus of my story.
For you see, as Bob and I were standing at the front entrance
to “Country Walk,” I happened to look behind us, and noticed something metallic
in a nearby field. Upon closer examination, I saw the most compelling sight. A
Douglas C-47 Skytrain aircraft. And not a scratch or dent in it. Of course, I
realized I was looking at a piece of flying history which shouldn’t be sitting
in a field full of weeds.
After I picked my teeth up off the ground, I asked Sergeant
Hoehne,
“Bob, what is that perfectly good airplane doing in the middle
of that field?”
To which he replied,
“Oh, that airplane flew there, and plopped right down where it
is; without so much as a runway!”
He continued.
“Not only that, but the cockpit was empty when the airplane
chose that field as its final resting place.”
I responded.
“Do you mean to tell me there wasn’t a pilot onboard the
airplane when it took off?”
Now, Bob chuckled and exclaimed,
“Not only that, but there wasn’t a pilot on board when it
landed either!”
It seems the C-47 prop plane had been on exhibit in a World
War II aircraft museum, about half a mile from the Country Walk subdivision,
when Hurricane Andrew plowed its ferocious pathway through south Florida. And,
apparently, as the concrete walls, and glass windows dissolved around the airplane,
a small tornado lifted it from its moorings, spun it towards the non-descript
field hundreds of yards away, and set it down “as pretty as you please.”
I have often wondered what became of that airplane. I have
seen a similar aircraft along an interstate highway in central Florida, not far
from my own home, and designed as an advertising tool for a nearby aircraft
museum. As a matter of fact, the same person who owned the aircraft museum in
Homestead also owns this museum. Perhaps, it is the same old C-47 airplane. If
so, it is still “out standing in its field” as the phrase goes; (transported
this time around by the act of human beings, and not the whim of nature).
I have often thought of that old airplane, and the cooperative
effort of what is generally thought of as a destructive act of nature, to do
something which might considered miraculous. Never before or since have I come
across an airplane which managed to fly without a pilot, (and still remained
intact after it landed).
Given the facts of my
story, when it is all said and done, all I have to say is,
Lions and Tigers and Bears, oops…
HIV Infected Monkeys, Bathtub Goodbyes, and Pilotless
Airplanes, Oh My!
by William McDonald, PhD
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