by C. R. Layton, March 25, 2001
While visiting our daughter Melody and her family in Cleveland, Ohio, someone mentioned the Azores. I said that I had been there. Melody said she had been wanting to go there for years; why hadn’t I ever mentioned that I had been there. “Why don’t you write a story about it.”
It was in August of 1953, I was stationed at McCLELLAN AFB in Sacramento, California in the 55th Strategic Weather Reconnaissance Squadron. We had one of our B-29’s and its crew farmed out to an Operation called “BOOTSTRAP”. It was a thing of secrecy then, but now is common knowledge. They were photographing the whole continent of Europe and surrounding islands, etc. This aircraft lost an engine and had to land at Lajes AFB on the island of Terieira, Azores. The Azores is a group of islands in the North Atlantic Ocean about nine hundred miles west of the coast of Portugal. My crew was selected to take a replacement engine and fly-way kit. A fly-way kit is all the tools and accessories needed to change out an engine on a B-29. The B-29 was called “The Super Fortress” built during World War II but was still being used in the Korean War. The B-29 had two bomb bays, forward and aft. The replacement 3350 Pratt Whitney engine was loaded in the aft bomb bay, the fly-way kit in the forward.
Our trip was going very well until we lost our number four engine and had to feather it. The B-29 was considered to be an under powered aircraft when hauling a full load, which we were. We were about half way between Bermuda and the Azores when this event took place, so it would do no good to turn back. As we were losing altitude very fast our Aircraft Commander made the decision to salvo the load we were carrying. The bomb bay doors were opened and the salvo switches energized to release the engine and fly-way kit from the bomb racks. The kit from the forward bomb bay salvoed smoothly and fell to the Atlantic Ocean floor below, but the 3350 engine became cocked and hung up in the bomb bay. This was not a good situation to be in. The Aircraft Commander ordered me to look the situation over and make an attempt to dislodge the load and allow it to drop. I selected one of the radio operators to help me. I sent him down one side while I was on the other. While squeezing between the bomb racks and the outer fuselage the radio operator got his parachute hung up and panicked. I had to backtrack and go over to the other side and get him loose. We tried for about thirty minutes or so to shake the engine loose, but to no avail. If you have never been in the bomb bay of a B-29 flying with the doors open, you cannot imagine to noise level of those engines roaring and wind passing through. It was totally deafening, and it was hours before my hearing returned to normal. The Aircraft Commander ordered us back inside and attempted to do some maneuvers with the aircraft, designed to shake bombs loose that had hung up on the bomb racks. That didn’t work either. Our Aircraft Commander then offered our options to the crew and wanted input from everyone of us. Our options were, number one bring all crew members to the front cabin and attempt to land, hoping that the engine would not dislodge on touch down, for if that happened our craft would surely break into at the forward bomb bay area. Number two, bail out and abandon the aircraft. Number three, ditch the aircraft in the ocean, but the engine could also dislodge and break the aircraft in half on impact. We discussed the fact that we were over shark infested waters and immediately ruled that one out. The majority of our crew voted to land at Lajes AFB if we still had enough altitude to reach that destination. The Major order me to go back to the bomb bay and try to determine just how low the engine was hanging below the bottom of the bomb bay doors. Normally sitting on the ground there was about 12 inches of clearance from the ground or tarmac. I checked it and decided the bottom of the engine was pretty even with the bottom of the bomb bay doors. So we decided to try an emergency landing if we had enough altitude to reach Lajes AFB. It turned out to be a good decision. We all had a laugh about our decision and agreed to buy the Major a case of beer if he didn’t drag the tail skid. Just before landing everyone in the back crawled through the tunnel to the front cabin. We were packed in there like sardines, but it was the safest way to land. Our Aircraft Commander made the smoothest landing that I ever saw in a B-29, and I logged over 1400 hours in those B-29s.
When our craft came to a complete stop, we deplaned in a hurry to see what it looked like. The engine had shifted some and there was about six inches of clearance between the engine and the runway. Every where you cared to look you could see emergency equipment set and ready in the event it was needed. We didn’t need it. God had heard our prayers.
The bomb bay doors were removed, jacks were put under the engine to level it and dislodge it. Next the aircraft was jacked up high enough to get the engine out. The 3350 engine that we had carried over 6,000 miles had been saved and delivered to the Aircraft it was intended for. Now we were stranded in a foreign land waiting for someone to bring us an engine.
We had lots of time on our hands. Lajes AFB had civilian mechanics that performed all work on the planes that came through there. We had nothing to do. After a few days some of us decided to go into the little town of Priora; I think the cab ride cost about 15 cents. It was a beautiful little town with lots of sidewalk cafes and such. The people were Portuguese and very nice.
After walking around and looking the town over, we went into one of the cafes to have dinner. All the waiters wore black pants with short waist jacket like what we called an “Ike” jacket, white shirt and little black bow ties. When our waiter came to take our order, I ask him if he knew what a Hot Beef Sandwich was, we couldn’t read the menus. They were written in Portuguese. Our waiter could not speak English but he could understand a little of it. (Very little.) He nodded that he knew what I wanted. Across the room I saw some people drinking what I thought was red wine from a very large beer schooner. I ask the waiter what they were drinking and he said red wine. I ordered one of those also. When our food was brought, everything looked wonderful, but my Hot Beef Sandwich looked nothing like what I expected. The meat was shredded and the potatoes were sliced into wedges and appeared to be deep-fried. The meat was resting on what I call French Bread and covered with Brown Gravy. The meat definitely was not beef, but I wasn’t about to ask what it was. (It turned out to be very good.) When we all finished eating, he brought us all a tiny little cup of coffee, which we couldn’t drink. You could have filled you ink pen with it and used it for ink. We ask him if we could have a beer instead. He brought us all a bottle of St. Gorge beer in a green bottle, I had never seen beer in anything but brown bottles before. When we ask for our checks, we couldn’t read that either. I pulled out a one dollar bill, but he indicated change. I pulled my change out of my pocket, he looked it over and took a quarter and brought me back fourteen Portuguese coins, most of which were larger than the quarter I had given him. When I was informed on how much money he had returned with, I calculated that my dinner had cost about twelve cents. At once I thought when I get discharged from the Air Force I’m coming back here to live.
In a few days, one of our other flight crews landed with our replacement engine. A couple of days later the ground maintenance crew had our engine replaced and we were about ready to fly a test hop on the plane and get ready to go home. False!!! When we were doing the pre-flight test for the test hop we found that ground crew had put the wrong kind of fuel in our tanks and every fuel seal on the A/C was leaking, Booster pumps the banjo fittings on the fuel nozzles, every place you looked, there was fuel dripping. We had to inventory and list every part that we needed new seals for and call our Squadron again for parts. After about ten more days we were ready to go home. We had flown a test hop and everything was OK. We had loaded our cargo, forty cases of Seagram’s VO in forty ounce jugs. Liquor was duty free there and very cheap. $1.30 for a forty ounce jug. It was all for our NCO and Officers Clubs at McClellen AFB. And a few select officers and NCO’s in our Squadron like Master Sergeant Donald Wilde who was a survivor of “The Battan Death March.” M/S Wilde was the man that taught me how to play Pinochle. We had several like him of World Was II fame in the 55th at that time. Well, luck was not with us. Operations grounded us because of hurricanes in the area. The next day (Sep 18) we learned that a B-29 and crew of eleven had bailed out of their aircraft and a search was in progress. If we wanted to join in on the search we would be cleared for takeoff. We jumped at the chance. The downed crew was from one of our sister Squadrons, the 53rd Strategic Weather Reconnaissance Squadron from Bermuda and some of our crew member had friends in that outfit. After about ten hours of searching, we received news that the survivors had been rescued and were on their way the hospital at Westover AFB. There were four survivors, the others were lost, mostly to sharks. A few hours later we landed at Westover AFB.
When Operations at Westover designated where we should park our aircraft we were met there by unit of Air Police who set up a barricade around our aircraft and set to guard it and our precious cargo. Before we loaded in a truck, the Major instructed the guards that our aircraft was off-limits to anyone but our crew unless they had a letter from the President of the United States. We had figured that we would spend the night, refuel and go home. Wrong!!!! As soon as we were in Operations the Major informed us that his Mother and Father lived in Holy Oak, Mass. Which was just down the road and that was his home town and we were going to stay three days. If any us needed any money, to let him know right now. Every one agreed they were OK with money. Most of us never left the base.
After we had chow we cleaned up and went to the Hospital to see who the survivors were. None of us knew any of them. One fellow I was talking to told me that every time a shark approached him, he would kick or punch him in the snout. We went there every day we were there and sat with them. Some of us wrote letters for them to their families.
On the third day the Major returned and we were ready to get on our way to Sacramento. When we got to our Aircraft, one of the guards came over to me and ask what we were carrying that was so secret. I told him forty cases of Seagram’s VO. He had the nerve to call me a liar.
Just as we were getting ready to leave, Operations ordered us to re-park for a little while. Air Force One had just landed with D.D.E. on board and no one could land or takeoff while Air Force One was on the ground. In about four hours we were notified that we were cleared and ready to leave. We had a very routine and uneventful trip back to Sacramento and were we glad to be home.
MORE
Nov. 20, 2005: Small World, on the 15 of November I sent a few letters out to some 58th guys I had just acquired the addresses of. Just a couple of days ago I got a call from a Roy Wampler Col. (Ret). During our conversation I mentioned my trip to the Azores while in the 55th. He remembered our trip and the engine hang up we had. He told me he was a 1st Lt co-pilot on the B-29 that brought us a replacement engine. He also sent a photo which he called “Crew Lolling” that was taken by the Aircraft Commander, Capt. Francis E. Wilson. This is the crew of that B-29 lolling in the shade of their wing waiting to load up and takeoff for their return to McClellan AFB. I would call this quite a coincidence and thought it worthy of adding to this story.
CRL
The author of this story has written more than 35 stories about events in his life or ancestors. If there is any interest in any of these stories, ask and I will be glad to share them with you.
It was in August of 1953, I was stationed at McCLELLAN AFB in Sacramento, California in the 55th Strategic Weather Reconnaissance Squadron. We had one of our B-29’s and its crew farmed out to an Operation called “BOOTSTRAP”. It was a thing of secrecy then, but now is common knowledge. They were photographing the whole continent of Europe and surrounding islands, etc. This aircraft lost an engine and had to land at Lajes AFB on the island of Terieira, Azores. The Azores is a group of islands in the North Atlantic Ocean about nine hundred miles west of the coast of Portugal. My crew was selected to take a replacement engine and fly-way kit. A fly-way kit is all the tools and accessories needed to change out an engine on a B-29. The B-29 was called “The Super Fortress” built during World War II but was still being used in the Korean War. The B-29 had two bomb bays, forward and aft. The replacement 3350 Pratt Whitney engine was loaded in the aft bomb bay, the fly-way kit in the forward.
Our trip was going very well until we lost our number four engine and had to feather it. The B-29 was considered to be an under powered aircraft when hauling a full load, which we were. We were about half way between Bermuda and the Azores when this event took place, so it would do no good to turn back. As we were losing altitude very fast our Aircraft Commander made the decision to salvo the load we were carrying. The bomb bay doors were opened and the salvo switches energized to release the engine and fly-way kit from the bomb racks. The kit from the forward bomb bay salvoed smoothly and fell to the Atlantic Ocean floor below, but the 3350 engine became cocked and hung up in the bomb bay. This was not a good situation to be in. The Aircraft Commander ordered me to look the situation over and make an attempt to dislodge the load and allow it to drop. I selected one of the radio operators to help me. I sent him down one side while I was on the other. While squeezing between the bomb racks and the outer fuselage the radio operator got his parachute hung up and panicked. I had to backtrack and go over to the other side and get him loose. We tried for about thirty minutes or so to shake the engine loose, but to no avail. If you have never been in the bomb bay of a B-29 flying with the doors open, you cannot imagine to noise level of those engines roaring and wind passing through. It was totally deafening, and it was hours before my hearing returned to normal. The Aircraft Commander ordered us back inside and attempted to do some maneuvers with the aircraft, designed to shake bombs loose that had hung up on the bomb racks. That didn’t work either. Our Aircraft Commander then offered our options to the crew and wanted input from everyone of us. Our options were, number one bring all crew members to the front cabin and attempt to land, hoping that the engine would not dislodge on touch down, for if that happened our craft would surely break into at the forward bomb bay area. Number two, bail out and abandon the aircraft. Number three, ditch the aircraft in the ocean, but the engine could also dislodge and break the aircraft in half on impact. We discussed the fact that we were over shark infested waters and immediately ruled that one out. The majority of our crew voted to land at Lajes AFB if we still had enough altitude to reach that destination. The Major order me to go back to the bomb bay and try to determine just how low the engine was hanging below the bottom of the bomb bay doors. Normally sitting on the ground there was about 12 inches of clearance from the ground or tarmac. I checked it and decided the bottom of the engine was pretty even with the bottom of the bomb bay doors. So we decided to try an emergency landing if we had enough altitude to reach Lajes AFB. It turned out to be a good decision. We all had a laugh about our decision and agreed to buy the Major a case of beer if he didn’t drag the tail skid. Just before landing everyone in the back crawled through the tunnel to the front cabin. We were packed in there like sardines, but it was the safest way to land. Our Aircraft Commander made the smoothest landing that I ever saw in a B-29, and I logged over 1400 hours in those B-29s.
When our craft came to a complete stop, we deplaned in a hurry to see what it looked like. The engine had shifted some and there was about six inches of clearance between the engine and the runway. Every where you cared to look you could see emergency equipment set and ready in the event it was needed. We didn’t need it. God had heard our prayers.
The bomb bay doors were removed, jacks were put under the engine to level it and dislodge it. Next the aircraft was jacked up high enough to get the engine out. The 3350 engine that we had carried over 6,000 miles had been saved and delivered to the Aircraft it was intended for. Now we were stranded in a foreign land waiting for someone to bring us an engine.
We had lots of time on our hands. Lajes AFB had civilian mechanics that performed all work on the planes that came through there. We had nothing to do. After a few days some of us decided to go into the little town of Priora; I think the cab ride cost about 15 cents. It was a beautiful little town with lots of sidewalk cafes and such. The people were Portuguese and very nice.
After walking around and looking the town over, we went into one of the cafes to have dinner. All the waiters wore black pants with short waist jacket like what we called an “Ike” jacket, white shirt and little black bow ties. When our waiter came to take our order, I ask him if he knew what a Hot Beef Sandwich was, we couldn’t read the menus. They were written in Portuguese. Our waiter could not speak English but he could understand a little of it. (Very little.) He nodded that he knew what I wanted. Across the room I saw some people drinking what I thought was red wine from a very large beer schooner. I ask the waiter what they were drinking and he said red wine. I ordered one of those also. When our food was brought, everything looked wonderful, but my Hot Beef Sandwich looked nothing like what I expected. The meat was shredded and the potatoes were sliced into wedges and appeared to be deep-fried. The meat was resting on what I call French Bread and covered with Brown Gravy. The meat definitely was not beef, but I wasn’t about to ask what it was. (It turned out to be very good.) When we all finished eating, he brought us all a tiny little cup of coffee, which we couldn’t drink. You could have filled you ink pen with it and used it for ink. We ask him if we could have a beer instead. He brought us all a bottle of St. Gorge beer in a green bottle, I had never seen beer in anything but brown bottles before. When we ask for our checks, we couldn’t read that either. I pulled out a one dollar bill, but he indicated change. I pulled my change out of my pocket, he looked it over and took a quarter and brought me back fourteen Portuguese coins, most of which were larger than the quarter I had given him. When I was informed on how much money he had returned with, I calculated that my dinner had cost about twelve cents. At once I thought when I get discharged from the Air Force I’m coming back here to live.
In a few days, one of our other flight crews landed with our replacement engine. A couple of days later the ground maintenance crew had our engine replaced and we were about ready to fly a test hop on the plane and get ready to go home. False!!! When we were doing the pre-flight test for the test hop we found that ground crew had put the wrong kind of fuel in our tanks and every fuel seal on the A/C was leaking, Booster pumps the banjo fittings on the fuel nozzles, every place you looked, there was fuel dripping. We had to inventory and list every part that we needed new seals for and call our Squadron again for parts. After about ten more days we were ready to go home. We had flown a test hop and everything was OK. We had loaded our cargo, forty cases of Seagram’s VO in forty ounce jugs. Liquor was duty free there and very cheap. $1.30 for a forty ounce jug. It was all for our NCO and Officers Clubs at McClellen AFB. And a few select officers and NCO’s in our Squadron like Master Sergeant Donald Wilde who was a survivor of “The Battan Death March.” M/S Wilde was the man that taught me how to play Pinochle. We had several like him of World Was II fame in the 55th at that time. Well, luck was not with us. Operations grounded us because of hurricanes in the area. The next day (Sep 18) we learned that a B-29 and crew of eleven had bailed out of their aircraft and a search was in progress. If we wanted to join in on the search we would be cleared for takeoff. We jumped at the chance. The downed crew was from one of our sister Squadrons, the 53rd Strategic Weather Reconnaissance Squadron from Bermuda and some of our crew member had friends in that outfit. After about ten hours of searching, we received news that the survivors had been rescued and were on their way the hospital at Westover AFB. There were four survivors, the others were lost, mostly to sharks. A few hours later we landed at Westover AFB.
When Operations at Westover designated where we should park our aircraft we were met there by unit of Air Police who set up a barricade around our aircraft and set to guard it and our precious cargo. Before we loaded in a truck, the Major instructed the guards that our aircraft was off-limits to anyone but our crew unless they had a letter from the President of the United States. We had figured that we would spend the night, refuel and go home. Wrong!!!! As soon as we were in Operations the Major informed us that his Mother and Father lived in Holy Oak, Mass. Which was just down the road and that was his home town and we were going to stay three days. If any us needed any money, to let him know right now. Every one agreed they were OK with money. Most of us never left the base.
After we had chow we cleaned up and went to the Hospital to see who the survivors were. None of us knew any of them. One fellow I was talking to told me that every time a shark approached him, he would kick or punch him in the snout. We went there every day we were there and sat with them. Some of us wrote letters for them to their families.
On the third day the Major returned and we were ready to get on our way to Sacramento. When we got to our Aircraft, one of the guards came over to me and ask what we were carrying that was so secret. I told him forty cases of Seagram’s VO. He had the nerve to call me a liar.
Just as we were getting ready to leave, Operations ordered us to re-park for a little while. Air Force One had just landed with D.D.E. on board and no one could land or takeoff while Air Force One was on the ground. In about four hours we were notified that we were cleared and ready to leave. We had a very routine and uneventful trip back to Sacramento and were we glad to be home.
MORE
Nov. 20, 2005: Small World, on the 15 of November I sent a few letters out to some 58th guys I had just acquired the addresses of. Just a couple of days ago I got a call from a Roy Wampler Col. (Ret). During our conversation I mentioned my trip to the Azores while in the 55th. He remembered our trip and the engine hang up we had. He told me he was a 1st Lt co-pilot on the B-29 that brought us a replacement engine. He also sent a photo which he called “Crew Lolling” that was taken by the Aircraft Commander, Capt. Francis E. Wilson. This is the crew of that B-29 lolling in the shade of their wing waiting to load up and takeoff for their return to McClellan AFB. I would call this quite a coincidence and thought it worthy of adding to this story.
CRL
The author of this story has written more than 35 stories about events in his life or ancestors. If there is any interest in any of these stories, ask and I will be glad to share them with you.
Note: I have finished the Down the Alcan Highway story but have decided to use it in next years reunion program. After the reunion I'll post it on here.
