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By Wayne Harroun
August, 1998
(Article is based on
research and discovery of the wreckage by a U-Trail expedition)
The Forest Service in the 1950's began using
airplanes to fight fires. In the beginning, it was a risky business
for the pilots -- and still is today. While an effective fire-fighting
tool, the aircraft flew at low altitudes, at low speeds, and over
treacherous terrain. In June, a group of pilots decided to visit
a crash in the Gila Wilderness near Glenwood, drawn in the same
fashion as sailors are fascinated by the Titanic. The World War
II vintage PBM Avenger -- the plane of choice for fire bombers in
the 50's and 60's -- had gone down in June 1961, killing its pilot,
the sole occupant. In June, Ed Harrow, retired Air Force colonel
and executive director of the Pima Air and Space Museum in Tucson,
AZ, visited the crash site. "We were looking for a unique aviation
experience," Harrow said. He called U-Trail, a Glenwood outfitter,
to guide a group to the site. "We were able to go down the trail,
riding in about four hours, he said. "We camped, then rode to the
crash site and spent a couple of hours." The trip into the wilderness
was part of a package auctioned at a museum fund-raiser. Al Bowemaster
of Massachusetts purchased the trip. Bowemaster said he attempted
to research the crash, and call the National Transportation Safety
Board, but found few details. The bright-orange-painted airplane
bore the name of the Ritchey Flying Services, Silver City-Prescott,
but records in Grant County say the pilot worked for Sonora Flying
Service of Columbia, Cailf., at the time of the accident. Harry
Bright of Silver City was then an 18-year old Forest Service firefighter
working to extinguish what he recalls as the Skeleton Fire when
the Avenger crashed. "I and Herb Stacey were stationed at Apache
Cabin," Bright said. "We followed the Redstone Trail and Whitewater
Creek to get to a lighting-caused fire -- it was rough and overgrown
country." Bright then became occupied at some distance from the
main crew. He paused as the No. 1 Avenger dumped its load of the
fire retardant, borate. Then the second aircraft, piloted by 35-year
old Verle C. Beede of New York, began its approach. Bright watched
the plane struggle to clear a ridge, and fail. "I think it was Skeleton
Ridge," he said. "He just couldn't clear the ridge. I believe the
bomb bay door caught the ridge or a tree, and it came flying off,
right at me," Bright recalled. "I dived behind a tree, and the thing
hit the top of the tree I was behind." Bright, from his position
on a hillside, then glanced up and into the eyes of the pilot, just
dozens of feet away, as he was looking out the cockpit at his severely
damaged right wing." In the few seconds, since clipping the ridge
top, the Avenger was ripping through treetops. "He crashed into
the base of Willow Mountain," Bright said. "There was no room for
error. "I went down there to the crash, then climbed back on the
ridge trying to raise Calvin Salars at dispatch," he said. "I hollered
into the radio big and loud and as cussing." Finally, Bright reached
a spot where the radio signal cleared the terrain. "Salars said,
'Just tell me one thing, then get off the radio -- is there any
sign of life?" "No", Bright told him. The Avengers were all war
surplus, most owned by the pilots, or by partnerships or small flying
services. It is a huge craft, pulled by a single, massive radial
engine. Some will recognize it as the type of aircraft piloted in
the Pacific war zone by a young George Bush, who flew combat missions
in the Navy at 19. Avenger pilots, according to Forest Service old-timers,
were a rare breed. As a high school and college student in the 60's
Chris Raphael of Silver City spend summers on fire crews on national
forests in Idaho. "I saw them all the time," said Raphael, who later
spent five years in the Air Force as a pilot. He suspects that not
all the aircraft were maintained in tip-top conditions due to low
budgets. In those days, pilots and planes just stood by and waited
for a call. They were paid only when they were able to deliver a
load on a fire. One of the pilots had a oil line break and had to
set down on a Forest Service dirt strip no more than 2,200 feet
long, grossly inadequate for the big plane. He got in safely, but
how was he going to get out? After unloading every ounce of unessential
equipment to lighten the plane, the pilot made one brief, abortive
attempt. The young Forest Service workers brainstormed the problem,
and attached the brush and trees at the end of the runway with axles
and chain saws, gaining about a 30-yard advantage. With all but
about 20 gallons of fuel dropped to further reduce weight, the aircraft
was pulled into the clearing, and a rope was lashed between the
tail wheel and sturdy tree. One of the boys swung a sharp ax severed
the rope, and the plane lurched forward. "He cleared the trees at
the end of the runway by about 30 feet," Raphael said. Jack Foster
of Silver City worked on the Prescott National Forest in Arizona
before joining the Gila Forest staff. He retired in 1972 after working
with early firefighting aviation crews. "In the middle to late 50's,
we started out with one of the big PBM Avengers," Foster said. "Then
we went to bigger, twin-and four-engine aircraft. "Nobody seemed
to realize how dangerous it was," he said. "One pilot took off from
Prescott to dump slurry on a fire in the Tonto National Forest,"
Forest said. After the retardant was unloaded, he circled the fire
a couple of times to admire his work. "That 60 seconds or so made
a big difference," Foster said. The pilot ran out of gas and landed
on a flat spot about a half-mile short of the Prescott runway. "By
the time I got there, the pilot was out of the plane and walking
around," he said. "I asked, 'Are you hurt?" "Only my pride," the
pilot replied. While the philosophy at the Forest Service has changed
from fighting every blaze, to managing some burns and fighting only
dangerous or destructive wild-fires, pilots in old airplanes are
still called on to fight fires, and sometimes they crash and sometimes
they die. It's a risky business. |
