A B-52 crashed off Guam Monday early in the morning, which would have been late Sunday here in Dallas and at Barksdale AFB in Shreveport, LA. My heart goes out the families of the crew. Two men already have been recovered from the ocean. Others remain missing at last report.
My dad spent a lot of time at Anderson AFB in Guam. First in '69-70 for bombing runs in D-models during Viet Nam. At least a second time in 1980 as a major or lt. col. We often worried about him being gone and doing the 30-hour missions out of there. Heck, we often worried about him flying a Buff at all because of the issues it had that we never knew about.
I've heard stories about crew climbing back into the hull of the Buff to hit things with a boot, like the landing gear, etc. to make things work. And don't forget Maj. Kong in Dr. Strangelove. Hyperbole yes, but not as much as you'd think.
And so with a downed Buff (big ugly fat effer)in the water, my heart pains for the wives and kids of the crew. It takes a lot of dedication to fly in the Air Force. A lot of sacrifice for those of all ages in the family. Dad used to do week-long rotations at the Alert Facility at K.I. Sawyer AFB back in the '70s. Fly during the day, fly during the night, and then go TDY to places like Guam.
To those of you who lost a dad this week, I'm praying for you. God bless you.