45 Seconds to Death

WESTOVER AIR FORCE BASE, MASS., FRIDAY JUNE 27--(UPl) THE FIRST OF

FOUR SWEPT-WING JET STRATOTANKERS SCHEDULED TO ATTEMPT TO SET JET-AGE SPEED RECORDS ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN TOOK OFF JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT.

The news tickers were already aclatter with the bulletins late that night, as the second of four Boeing KC-135 jet tankers lined up on Runway 23 at Westover. The rain that fell a few hours earlier had washed away the fog, and now visibility was good, and the skies were smeared with only a slight overcast. The first plane, Alpha, was skyborne; next came Bravo, and it poured down the runway, lifted up, trailing four black swirls of smoke. The third tanker, Cocoa, rolled into take-off position and got ready to follow.

Inside Cocoa, strapped into parachutes and Mae Wests, buckled to seats, heavily helmeted, sat Brigadier General Donald W. Saunders, 45, commander of the four-plane mission; a six-man crew headed by Plane Commander Lieut. Colonel George Broutsas, 39; and eight civilians. William J. Cochran, 36, and William R. Enyart, 57, were officials of the National Aeronautic Association who were making the trip as official observers. The other six were newsmen assigned to cover the record-making flight: the U.S. News & World Report's A. Robert Ginsburgh, 63, a retired Air Force brigadier general, and Glen A. Williams, 41; TIME-LIFE'S Washington Bureau Chief James L. McConaughy Jr., 42; the Boston Traveler's veteran aviation writer, Robert B. Sibley, 57; United Press International's foreign affairs writer Norman J. Montellier, 37; Associated Press's Daniel J. Coughlin Jr., 31.

Point of Commitment. Plane Commander Broustas, an 5,000-hour Strategic Air Force veteran and one of the most experienced of all KC-135 pilots, got his take-off clearance from Westover Tower at 12:30. Broustas acknowleged the tower, moved his four throttles up to full power, released his brakes and began to roll. The plane picked up speed but not quickly; it was carrying thousands of pounds of fuel. It passed its V-1 and V-2 marks--the last point for chopping throttles, and the point of commitment to take-off--and broke ground exactly at the predetermined spot.

The plane lifted into the darkness, bound for disaster. Just beyond the field's edge, the right wing dipped; men on the ground saw its green starboard light go down slowly, then sharply, had a swift vision of the pilots fighting for control over what seemed a power failure. Cocoa was gone; its right wing dug into the ground as its uplifted left wing snapped into high tension wires strung 70 ft. above the ground. About 45 seconds after the big aircraft had begun rolling, it skittered through fields, bounced across the Massachusetts Turnpike, exploded with a shattering roar. A fireball rose in the night; the overcast trapped the light and held it until it turned a dark orange. The crew, the general, the observers, the newsmen--died instantly. Men on the flight line at Westover froze into a stunned shock for an instant, then sprang to rescue stations. Screeching fire trucks and ambulances, their red lights blinking eerily, roared away from the flight line; but there was no rescue. In flat disciplined tones, the Westover control tower operator ordered the fourth KC-135, already set for the mission--and, with Cocoa, scheduled for a nonstop round-trip to London--to return to the flight line.

Of all recent Air Force disasters, the crash of the KC-135 puzzled investigators most. In the nearly two years it has been in operation, the big (more than 250,000 Ibs., full loaded) jet tanker has met and passed every performance requirement set down for it, broken longstanding flight records, never been in a major accident. This kind of performance encouraged Boeing in its plans to produce a commercial version of the KC-135 (some of which will be in operation by major airlines by the end of the year), and encouraged the Air Force's Special Air Missions squadron to assign three passenger models to Washington for use by the President and other top U.S. dignitaries.

Almost forgotten in the week's tragic news was the fact that Alpha and Bravo both landed in England after record-breaking crossings. The time, covering 3,442 miles: 5 hr. 27 min. 42.8 sec.--or an average 630.02 m.p.h.--for Alpha; 5 hr. 29 min. 37.4 sec. for Bravo.

Said saddened Air Force Chief of Staff Tommy White, referring to the newsmen who died on Cocoa: "We share with them the conquest of time and space. They share with us the dangers of that conquest . . . The men who observe and report the achievements of science and skill ... are partners in these achievements. They are also partners in the sacrifices that are sometimes the price of progress."

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