Prowler in the Sky

Of all the instruments of modern war, the Sidewinder missile is one of the most cunningly calculated to wreak destruction. Carried by a fighter, the Sidewinder has a sensing device in its nose that is attracted by the infra-red radiation of a jet engine's hot tail pipe. Zigzagging at first like the sidewinding desert rattlesnake, the missile finally gets the range and darts for the kill. Last week, in the sky over New Mexico, a Sidewinder demonstrated its deadly efficiency all too well.

A pair of Sidewinders hung from the Air National Guard F-100 of ist Lieut. James W. Van Scyoc, 27, when he took off from New Mexico's Kirtland Air Force Base and climbed to make some scheduled practice runs on an eight-engined 6-52 that was flying at 34,000 ft. Van Scyoc was an expert at handling the Sidewinder. Not only was he his squadron's safety officer, but he had written standard operating procedures on the use of the missile.

Van Scyoc made five passes, then banked for a sixth. Just as the manuals said, the Sidewinder was shackled by safety devices. A hook-shaped pin immobilized the trigger; a toggle switch was in the nonfiring position; a vital circuit breaker was off. Yet somehow a Sidewinder got away. The horrified Van Scyoc could only radio: "Look out, one of my missiles has fired!" A second later the explosion sent the bomber crashing against the snow-covered side of Mount Taylor. At least three members of the eight-man crew managed to parachute to safety, and rescue parties began slogging through a blizzard to hunt for any other survivors.

At week's end the Air Force was trying to determine how a Sidewinder ever got loose to prowl the skies of New Mexico.

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