When I arrived in France in the summer of 1956, attached to the 12th Troop Carrier Squadron as a new Radio Operator, one of the first things I heard about was an aircraft accident which happened just days short of one year before. At the time the exact date, August 11, 1955, wasn’t mentioned and there was only vague rumor about what actually happened. A few of the older aircrew mentioned that they had known men who were killed, but no one seemed to have much real knowledge. The result in my case, was the impression that two C-119s of the 10th Troop Carrier Squadron had collided while dropping paratroops in Germany, and being smitten with the immortality of youth, I put any danger I may have perceived out of my mind and begged the Chief Radio Operator to schedule me on any kind of flight he could. He complied and much of that was formation training. I thought it was a lot of fun, although I think it occurred to me once or twice that those big “Flying Boxcars” were in rather close proximity, but I was immortal and I didn’t have enough flying experience to worry about it. Shortly, I was checked out as a Class 1 Airborne Radio Operator and for the next three years, went about the business of flying in C-119s, hauling freight and occasionally practicing the “Combat Cargo” part of our mission—flying in formation and dropping troops and equipment in concert with the Eleventh Airborne Division and U. S. 7th Army in Germany. We never flew formation when working with the Army, but it never occurred to me to ask why, and as time went on the 10th Squadron collision was largely forgotten.

More than thirty years passed before I wrote and published a book about my time in the Air Force as one of the very last of the Morse code Airborne Radio Operators, and I devoted a small section of one chapter to the 10th Squadron collision of August 11, 1955. While writing the manuscript I tried to locate an accident report, but nothing seemed to be available through normal channels. I found accident reports on other accidents included in the narrative—but repeated attempts to find any official information on the 10th Squadron collision were oddly unsuccessful.

Rather by chance, just before the manuscript went to press, I met the son-in-law of the sister of Lt. Robert Asher, pilot of one of the aircraft in the accident, and who was killed in the crash. He put me in contact with his mother-in-law, and she very graciously gave me copies of all the information she had on the loss of her brother, which included some news clippings about the crash, and poignant letters to her parents from the Air Force and from the Commander of the 10th Squadron. I hastily revised the manuscript, and went to press with what I had, but unfortunately my account left many unanswered questions, and as the book began to circulate, I started to get feedback from pilots and other crew members who alluded to there having been other causes for the accident—in short, hot pilots playing games in formation.

More than two years after publication, I came across one man who had been flying in the formation and witnessed the accident, but 40 years made the memories a little dim. I did, however, learn the nature of the damage to each aircraft, and which one went down first, in addition to some newer information which identified the Army unit the two aircraft were carrying. I revised the manuscript with the new information, but I elected not to include the rumors about pilot antics being responsible for the accident. That, I’m happy to say, turned out to be a wise decision, because I was finally successful in obtaining the full accident report, parts of which are clearly stamped “Confidential,” and I can now tell an accurate story of that accident, and hopefully put to rest any rumor.

Nine C-119s of the 10th Troop Carrier Squadron took off in formation from Stuttgart Army Air Field at Echterdingen, Germany, in order to practice methods of airlifting troops and equipment in a joint exercise with the 499th Engineering Battalion. The time of takeoff was 13:01 Zulu, just after 2 pm, Central European time. It was a clear day with 11 miles visibility and only a few scattered clouds at 3,000 feet. The code name for this formation was “Chalk,” and after formation join-up, the leader, Chalk 1 proceeded to lead the formation at 4,000 feet AMSL (above mean sea level) or about 2,500 to 3,000 feet above the terrain. The heading was 270 degrees, and after flying on this heading for about 15 minutes, the leader started a 10 degree bank in a turn to the left, near the town of Edelweiler. About 60 degrees of the turn had been completed at 13:18Z, when Chalk 8, C-119 tail number 53-3222, flown by Lt. Robert Asher, called to inform the leader and the rest of the formation that he was losing his left engine and was “going back in.” Chalk 1, the formation leader acknowledged and told Asher to go ahead. Asher then asked for a course back to Stuttgart, and the leader’s reply was, “turn left, eighty degrees.”

A few seconds later, Chalk 8, 53-3222 and Chalk 9, 53-7841 collided. The underside of the nose section of Chalk 9, flown by Lt. Eugene Pesci, came down on the tail section of Chalk 8, cutting off part of the boom and the right vertical stabilizer, in addition to destroying the horizontal stabilizer and elevator. Uncontrollable, 53-3222 nosed up and then entered a flat spin into the ground and burned in a wooded area known as the Gerechtigkeitswald, near Grombach. Chalk 9 continued to fly more or less level for roughly 40 seconds and then 53-7841 began to turn right. Observers thought he was going to orbit the crash of 3222, but the aircraft rolled over on its back, nosed over and crashed in a near vertical dive, exploding on impact. In less than a minute the lives of 20 aircrew and 46 soldiers were lost. At the time, it was the fourth worst aircraft accident in history.

The question, of course, is how could an accident of this kind happen to two experienced Air Force pilots, both of whom had considerable time in the air, were considered competent pilots, and had a lot of formation flying experience? As always, aircraft accidents tend to have a series of causes or mishaps which lead up to the major occurrence, and this one is no different. The devil in this case, really is in the details.

The purpose of aerial formation flying is the same as for troop formations on the ground—the movement of a group of people or airplanes from one point to another, and staying together while doing it. In the case of Combat Cargo aircraft dropping paratroops or equipment, it is necessary to put large numbers of them on the ground as quickly and as close together as possible so they can collect their equipment and form into a cohesive combat unit. The Fairchild C-119 was the first-line Combat Cargo aircraft of the time, and working closely with the U.S. Army in that regard, had a distinguished record from the Korean conflict, and working with the French at the fall of Dien Bien Phu. In the Cold War environment of the early 1950s, a great deal of practice involving formation flying had to be done. Any pilot or crewmember who has flown formation in an airplane the size of the C-119 will tell you it is a relatively tense and taxing experience, requiring the utmost in concentration and attention from the pilot. It may be a little less tense in a more agile fighter aircraft, but not much. A pilot will also tell you that the larger the formation, the more attention is required. Joining up into a large formation requires precise control and judgment and attention to speed, and of course, the larger the formation, the more precise the judgment and attention to speed must be. If a small formation is joining a larger one, the problems of speed, judgment and control are compounded. The 10th Squadron accident happened immediately after a small formation of three aircraft joined up with a larger formation of six aircraft.

The formation layout chosen by the 10th Squadron for this practice airlift was, I believe, a factor which contributed to the accident. I never saw it flown when I was flying, and I doubt if it has been flown since with large aircraft. It consisted of three vics of three aircraft, but not in line astern. This formation had a vic of three aircraft leading, and a vic of three aircraft each, on either side—small formations of three aircraft spread out over some distance. The formation leader, Chalk 1, (53-8155) had wingmen Chalk 2 (53-7840) and Chalk 3 (53-8146) on either side. Three additional C-119s on the right wing of the leading formation made up Chalk 4, (53-7842) leading and Chalk 5 (53-8147) and Chalk 6 (53-7836) as wingmen. The third vic to the left of the leading formation was Chalk 7 (53-8142) leading and Chalk 8 (53-3222) and Chalk 9 (53-7841) as wingmen.

A tenth C-119, 53-7828 was in reserve in the event any aircraft of the formation could not take off. It is also notable that every single one of these aircraft were brand-new, having only been delivered to the 60th Troop Carrier Wing at Rhine-Main Air Base, Germany over the previous couple of months, in preparation for the intended move of the Wing to Dreux/Senoches Air Base in France which took place the following month.

The reader doesn’t have to be reminded that this was a complex formation and which was, by its very nature, difficult to control. Nine pilots operating nine sets of throttles, controlling eighteen engines— maintaining precise control just flying straight and level would have been a challenge, and when it came time to turn this gaggle of large airplanes the problems could only be magnified. The aircraft on the outside of the turn would have to increase airspeed and climb slightly, and the aircraft on the inside of the turn would have to slow and descend slightly. Some sixty degrees into the planned one hundred and eighty degree turn of this wheeling mass of aircraft is where the collision occurred.

A transcript of the recorded radio calls between Stuttgart approach (tower) and the formation leader in 8155, reveals some initial confusion. The reader should be aware that radio procedure is not always followed exactly in a formation flight. Callsigns are not always used when pilots are calling or answering, so a little sleuthing is necessary to determine who was talking to whom, and vice-versa. Much of it is informal, and frequently first names are used because the sound of a particular pilot’s voice is recognized. The tower was using VHF frequency 119.7, and the transcript from which I quote is of the radio traffic on that frequency.

Beginning at 13:49 local time reveal some confusion in getting the full formation sorted out and on the runway for a formation takeoff, and it is possible there was also confusion about whether the formation would be using the tower frequency for communication among the aircraft of the formation, or whether a private UHF frequency was being used. A couple of exchanges between the leader and his aircraft would indicate that UHF was being used, and two of the pilots had to be told to switch to the VHF tower frequency. The reserve aircraft Chalk 10 was one, and Chalk 7, leader of the third element was the other. It is not clear that Chalk 7 was monitoring 119.7 VHF at any time during the. It is my belief that he was never on the VHF frequency 119.7.

At 13:50, the formation leader, still on the runway and possibly on UHF, asked for asked his pilots to check in on VHF 119.7. Everyone responded, including Stuttgart tower, except for the two element leaders, Chalk 4 and Chalk 7. At 13:51, the leader transmits, “Chalk 4 and 7 from Chalk 1, do you read?” An identified voice replies, “He’s on UHF.” The leader then calls Chalk 7 again. “Chalk 7 from Chalk 1, do you read?”

The log shows nothing in response from the third element leader. If Chalk 7 answered the leader at this time, he did not do it on VHF. The formation was held until some Army aircraft landed, and at 13:49 Stuttgart begins a series of calls to identify the number of each aircraft and everyone checks in while taking position on the runway. When the tower asks number 4 his aircraft number, the reply is “8142.” If this was not a typographical error in the transcript, it is the first and only time 8142 is heard on 119.7. Numbers 5 and 6 report, and when the tower asks number seven for his number, the reply is “7842.” Again, if no typo, the element leaders appear to have switched takeoff positions. This was not the case, and I believe someone in the formation, seeing a lack of response from Chalk 7 and anxious to get this monster formation rolling, answered for him. Again, I must state that I don’t think Chalk 7 was ever on the VHF frequency of 119.7 at any time during this flight.

A note of explanation: The radio configuration in the C-119G consisted of a jackbox at each crew station for the headset of the user. It had a series of toggle switches used to select the radio on which one wanted to listen, and a rotary dial to select the radio on which one wanted to transmit. It was not possible to be listening to, or transmitting on, more than one radio at a time per crew station. Therefore, Chalk 7 could be on UHF, or he could be on VHF, but he could not be on both. To switch back and forth between radios would be impossibly unhandy for the quick communication necessary in a formation of this kind. I cannot speak for the pilot of Chalk 7, but I can say that not all the pilots I flew with were able to completely grasp the toggle switch, rotary dial concept and as will be covered later, Chalk 7 did not carry a qualified radio operator to help him with any communication difficulty he might have been having.

At 14:00, Stuttgart tower cleared the flight for takeoff, and 8155 reported he was rolling for takeoff at 14:01 local time. The tower noted there were seven of the nine C-119s on the runway at that time, however all nine had taken off by the next transmission which was at 14:03. The tenth and reserve aircraft, 7828, aborted his takeoff, and was asked by the formation leader in 8155 what was the matter. There was an exchange about lost RPM, and asking the tower for permission to do a run-up in position, or whether to taxi back down the runway. Sandwiched in between these calls between 8155 , the tower and 7828 about his engine problem—is an unreadable transmission, then a call to Chalk 7 at 14:04. The formation would have been in a turn to the left to make a one hundred eighty degree turn after takeoff.

“38142, over.” The “over” would indicate it was a call to, rather than from, 8142. There was another unreadable transmission after that. I conjecture the two unreadable exchanges were from one or both of the third element wingmen, telling the formation leader the third element was not joining up in formation.

The transcript continues, but does not say whether it was 8155 or the tower calling at 14:05, when someone (presumably the leader, 8155) says, “You got back in formation?” This is the first indication that Chalk 7 was not in the formation yet, but there is no mention of Chalk 8 and 9 who should have been following him.

Shortly after that, another call, almost certainly from the leader in 8155, to Chalk 7 in 8142. “Number seven, report back in formation.”

The next transmission, at 14:05 was unidentified, but probably from Stuttgart approach. “Number seven is out of formation with the gears down over the city of Stuttgart !” Then, “8142, Stuttgart approach, do you have any trouble, over?”

There was no answer from Chalk 7 in 8142, and at 14:07, Stuttgart tried again. “8142, Stuttgart approach, do you read?” No answer is recorded. At 14:08 plus several seconds, Chalk 10, 7828 in reserve, informs Stuttgart that they were canceling the flight, and returning to the ramp.

A few seconds later, someone, possibly Chalk 9 called Chalk 8, in 3222. “Chalk eight.” The reply, “Roger.” Then from 7841, “Coming up?”

And then at 14:09, this time no question the call was from 3222 to 7841, “Chalk nine, let’s go and join up !” The reply from Pesci flying 7841, is to Robert Asher in 3222. “Okay, Bob, will do.”

The foregoing exchange between the two wingmen of the third element would indicate that there was considerable delay and confusion in forming up, because the leader was having landing gear problems. The unknown factor here is how far away they were from the main formation when the element leader got his gear up, gathered up his wingmen and hurried to rejoin the formation.

Nothing further is heard from the formation until a transmission at 14:18, when the formation had just started a 10 degree turn to the left. The transmission is listed in the transcript as unreadable, however, from the exchange that followed, it was obviously a call from Asher in Chalk 8 to Chalk 1, the formation leader. “Go ahead,” was the reply from 8155. I believe it was 8155, rather than his element leader in 8142, to whom Asher was calling, as the formation leader would have been the one to give him his course back to Stuttgart, not his element leader.

3222—“I think I’m losing my left engine, I am going back in.”

8155—“Roger, go ahead.”

3222—“Give me the course!”

8155—“Turn left, eighty degrees.”

Seconds later, at 14:19, the formation leader reported to Stuttgart that a crash had occurred, and then seconds after that, 8155 reported that a second aircraft had crashed.

The remainder of the radio transcript deals with keeping the remainder of the formation together to land back at Stuttgart. Many of the aircrew had witnessed the collision and the two crashes, may have been a little shaken, and the leader was concerned with getting them all safely back on the ground.

I think it significant that Chalk 7 was only heard once on the primary frequency of 119.7, and that once is probably a typographical error. As no callsigns were used, it is also not possible to confirm that he talked to his wingmen when the three of them were trying to join up as an element, and then join their element onto the main formation. There is no record in the transcript that he ever answered a single call either from the leader or from Stuttgart tower. Also strangely missing on that frequency was any response by him when his right wingman was losing an engine and leaving the formation. His statement to the board interrogator’s question about his wingmen dropping down indicates that he was not listening on 119.7. “No Sir. I don’t know anything about Chalk 8. I understand he was supposed to have engine trouble, but I heard nothing of any conversation at all.”

I believe the explanation for the lack of communication is that Chalk 7 did not carry a radio operator. The young A/2c (E-3) who stated he “was flying as a radio operator,” gave his occupation as an airborne radar repairman, said he had never flown before except for his flight to Europe from the United States, and that he was sitting in the engineer’s seat without a headset, and not at the radio table. It is doubtful he would have signed “on watch” as was required by radio operators, or that he kept any sort of log. The impact of this situation could have been enormous. The VHF sets carried by the C-119s in this formation were known as AN-ARC-3, and they were transmitter crystal controlled. If the correct crystal for 119.7 was not installed in the transmitter, then Chalk 7 could have no communication. Additionally, the receiver had to be tuned to that frequency, and I can say from experience the tuning of the receiver required some skill because they were old, WWII sets, and the tuning knobs were quite unreliable. There was no mention of communications in the radar repairman’s statement, nor did the interrogator question him about them.

It is my belief that Chalk 7 did not, at any time, have contact with the formation on 119.7. Who answered for him at the check-in is moot.

AFTERMATH

The accident report contains many statements of the eye-witnesses to the accident including that of the 10th Squadron Commander, who was a passenger (or possibly the copilot) in the lead aircraft, 8155. Individual statements were taken from each of the witnesses, and on August 18, 1955, they were called to testify for a meeting of a Board of Officers convened by Headquarters, 60th Troop Carrier Wing at Rhine-Main Air Base, Frankfurt.

The witnesses were sworn, but were advised that the board was not meeting under the rules of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and the hearing was an “informal meeting” to gather information about the accident of August 11th. Because the formation was in a turn at the time of the accident, many pilots, navigators, flight engineers and radio operators were eye-witnesses, and while their accounts mostly agree as to the nature of the collision, many of them were not sure at the time which colliding airplane was which, and nearly all thought incorrectly (because 3222 was almost out of the formation to the left) that it was 3222 which collided with 7841. Only the witnesses who were in the element leader’s aircraft got it right, and even then, one of them was not sure. As the accident report is quite large, running to over 600 pages, I will not attempt to reproduce individual accounts given at the hearing. All were asked to read their previous statements, and were asked if they had anything to add. Some did, some did not, however, all were questioned further about what they had seen or heard, and were asked to demonstrate aircraft positions with models.

When Lt. Asher stated his engine problem, asked to leave the formation and then asked for a heading back to Stuttgart, the formation leader replied “turn left, eighty degrees.” Asher then dropped a little and passed to the left, intending to go beneath the element and exit the formation to the left. He was in the proper formation position relative to the leader when he began to leave the formation. He had plenty of room to his right, or he could have dropped even lower in exiting to his left, but he followed the then standard procedure regulations of the Air Force, which required he exit the formation to his left. One of the witnesses in the element leader’s aircraft, stated that Asher’s aircraft passed underneath the leader as he was exiting. If that statement is accurate, it would imply that either Asher increased his speed, or the leader decreased his. Asher should not, at any time including his exit, have been even with, or underneath the leader of the element.

Further, he continued down and to the left until he was slightly ahead of the element leader and slightly ahead of the left wingman, Lt. Pesci. That Asher was descending could account for the increase in his speed, but on the other hand, he stated he was losing his left engine, and that would have caused him to slow. A failing engine could have also caused Asher to have trouble in controlling his aircraft because he was turning slightly into the bad engine. From the time-line of the radio call transcription, he and his copilot would not have had time to set the aircraft up for single-engine flight. He could also have been distracted and unaware of his position, because he was trying to set it up for single-engine flight. Whatever the reason, Asher was in a position that put the tail of his aircraft directly under the nose of the left wingman.

I believe Asher did not increase his speed. I believe he passed under his element leader because the element leader had pulled his power back sharply because he was about to overrun the formation in the turn, and Pesci, intent on not overrunning the element leader, also pulled his power back. Witnesses in the element leader’s aircraft stated Pesci had been in rather close to the element leader with wings overlapping. In trying to correct his position, he either dropped down or moved left, or both.

The statement to the board by the pilot of the element leader, Chalk 7- 8142, is difficult to understand because he did not refer to aircraft numbers or names, and the interrogator did not correct him. He stated he did not know his right wingman, Chalk 8 (Asher), was having engine trouble and stated he did not hear any radio transmission to that effect, but rather was watching “the man on the left.” He thought the left wingman was lagging, and had to increase his speed to catch up and “he looked a little close. Then he broke out and down and then he seemed to level out.” He then stated “I could be wrong because that is when he passed underneath us.” This last reference had to be to Asher in Chalk 8, because Pesci in Chalk 9 did not at any time, pass underneath the element leader. The element leader was fixed on his left wingman having trouble keeping up or getting too close while his other wingman was having engine trouble and was passing under him to leave the formation. He went on to deny he was still catching up to the formation after they had started the turn, but answered yes when asked if he had to reduce his power to keep from overrunning the first element.

The interrogator asked him a second time if he came into the formation “just about the time they rolled into the turn,” but the element leader either did not understand the question, or deftly evaded it with an answer about airspeed.

The interrogator continues to press the point about join-up.

“You had difficulty right after takeoff?” [referring to the element leader’s landing gear problem].

“Yes, sir,” was the answer.
“And you caught up in the turn?”

This time, the element leader answered. “No, sir. We caught up before they started to turn.” Other witnesses corroborate Chalk 7’s statement that he caught up before the turn, but they also said it was just before the turn started. The fact that the interrogator pressed this point would indicate there was some question whether Chalk 7 and his element were settled into formation before the collision happened. Neither the interrogator nor Chalk 7 referred to any problem with communication, and the statement about the element leader being unaware his wingman was having an engine problem and was leaving the formation— was not pursued.

The board interviewed a considerable number of others in the formation, pilots, navigators, radio operators and engineers, but they were mostly concerned with descriptions of the collision and only one or two refer to the condition of the formation of the element on join up. Not everyone who witnessed the accident was asked for a statement or was interrogated and it occurred to me that the board may have been selective in who was called. I do not think that was the case, however, two pilots who should have been interviewed are conspicuously missing—those of the copilot of Chalk 7, and of the formation leader flying Chalk 1. A question or two to either of them would have been able to clear up the communications confusion and would have confirmed whether or not Chalk 7 changed his power settings abruptly. It would be interesting to know if the copilot of Chalk 7 also did not know which of his wingmen were underneath him before the collision.

The board was interested in the alleged lack of crewrest on the part of Lt. Pesci, and in that regard 1/Lt Kenneth E. Klein, another 10th Squadron pilot was called. His statement tells of the activities of himself and Lt. Pesci on the day before the accident. He states that on August 10th at 07:30, he participated in a squadron formation and squadron ground school, conducted by squadron personnel. At 14:30 hours, he and Lt. Pesci were assigned to go to Neubiburg Air Base, Germany to drop paratroops, and they departed Rhine-Main shortly after 17:00, arriving Neubiburg about 18:30 in the evening. They filed an operational clearance to drop their troops on Bad Tolz Drop Zone, after which they were supposed return and land at Neubiberg to drop off the static lines, and then to depart as soon as possible for Echterdingen Army Air base, Stuttgart. As the reader can see, August 10th was already a long day for Lts. Kline and Pesci, and they still had to drop their troops, land and drop off the static lines, and then go to Stuttgart. I can state that workdays like that were not at all unusual for the flying crews of the 60th Troop Carrier Wing.

They departed Neubiburg at about 21:00 hours loaded with paratroops, but the weather was such they could not fly in formation, and since the DZ at Bad Tolz was in the mountains, they elected to return to Neubiburg without making the drop and landed there at about 21:40. The reader should keep in mind that Lt. Kline is quoting Zulu time—one hour later local, so it was almost 9:00 pm when they landed back at Neubiburg and unloaded their troops. At 22:00 hours Zulu, Lt. Pesci called 322nd Air Division asking for permission to remain overnight at Neubiburg, which was granted, and they were given a takeoff time of 06:00 Zulu the next morning, August 11th, in order they arrive at Echterdingen before the formation from Rhine-Main. Lt. Kline stated they went to the Airman’s transit mess, had a meal and then checked into the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters, finally getting to bed at just before midnight Zulu—1am local.

They were awakened at 05:00 Zulu, but were unable to make the scheduled takeoff time due to ground fog at Echterdingen, and did not depart Neubiburg until 07:35 Zulu. When they arrived at Echterdingen, the field was below minimums and they spent 40 minutes in the holding pattern. At that point, possibly running low on fuel, they cancelled their instrument flight plan and in formation, flew visual to Rhine-main where they were instructed to land, refuel and depart as soon a possible for Stuttgart. They flew back to Stuttgart, but not in formation, Lt. Pesci arriving about 11:00 hours. Lt. Klein was designated the spare aircraft, and did not participate in the formation.

At the end of his statement, Lt. Klein stated, “Although we did not have adequate crew rest at Neubiburg, I felt rested and capable of flying the mission at Echterdingen, and feeling little effects of fatigue.” When later interrogated, however, he stated that he “was tired and not completely rested.” The board then asked him some questions about the state of fatigue on the part of Lt. Pesci and his copilot, but Lt. Klein could offer little in that regard.

Whether Lt. Pesci’s physical state contributed to the accident can never be known, but it was listed as a major factor in the findings of the board in their findings.

Officers--Klien, Asher & Pesci.

Findings of the accident board.

After considering all available evidence the board finds that the primary cause of the accident was pilot error. It is the opinion of the board that if the left wingman (aircraft 53-7841) had held his proper position instead of dropping down and out, the accident would not have occurred. It was established that just prior to the accident, aircraft 7841 had overrun his element leader.

Secondary causes.

Evidence was found that the right wingman (aircraft 53-3222) was in process of losing his left engine and was given instructions to leave the formation. He was in the process of leaving the formation by descending and turning to the left according to normal procedures when the collision occurred. After considering all the available evidence, the board feels that the accident would not have happened if engine malfunction had not occurred, causing the right wingman to break formation.

McGinty

The board found evidence of supervisory error in that the pilot responsible for the accident had not had proper crew rest and his copilot’s experience was extremely low.

Recommendations

That no formation be flown on Air Transportability missions. All formation flights with paratroopers would be with the approval of 60th Troop Carrier Group or under the direction of higher headquarters. Formation flights with only aircrew members for training not be restricted.

The board recommends elimination of elements of V of V’s and fly only V’s in trail on all formation flights.

That it be re-emphasized to the pilots and crew members that they have the required crew rest prior to taking off on a mission. Further that the Group Commander, Group Operations Officer or Squadron Commander personally must approve waivers of the required crew rest when deemed appropriate and necessary.

The board further recommends that every effort be made to have more experienced pilots assigned when replacements are necessary, due to rotation of pilots to ZI [Zone of Interior]. That more effort be placed on assigning a higher level of experience on crews when the missions requiring flying Army personnel or passengers.

If any members of the board disagreed with the findings, they did not submit a secondary report that I can find, however there are two letters written to the Commander of 322nd Air Division and to the Inspector General of the Air Force, by Col. Clyde Box, then Commander of 60th Troop Carrier Group in which he said, in part, that he agreed with the findings of the board, with the exception of the assessment of all pilot error to the pilot of 7841, and that he thought the method in which 3222 exited the formation was equally in error, and as much pilot error should be assessed to the pilot of 3222.

Col. Box, later Commander of 322nd Air Division with whom I was privileged to fly on one occasion, went on to recommend some very sweeping changes in the way formations were flown by combat cargo aircraft in the performance of missions involving air mobility, troop and equipment drops and also in the recommended method for an aircraft breaking away from a formation.

All things considered, the board did a good job of getting to the bottom of the cause of the accident, however, I believe they took the easy way out in placing all of the error on Lt. Pesci. I believe he was following an inept element leader who was not aware of the condition of his element and his lack of knowledge and communication caused him to lead in an erratic manner. He should have been called in error equally with Lt. Pesci. I do not believe Lt. Asher was in error.

I also believe others in high positions who were familiar with the accident report at the time, interpreted it in a manner consistent with my view, because the Air Force, from the Inspector General down, through the Commanders of USAFE and 322nd Air Division initiated strong requirements regarding the experience and training of pilots who would lead and fly formation in the future. Only the best and most qualified duty crews would thereafter be used on formation missions, other than for formation training. These changes in formation training exercises, for the most part, became standard operating procedure for cargo aircraft in the whole of the United States Air Force. Additionally, very strict enforcement of crew rest regulations was implemented, which also continues to this day.

One should also not forget that the 66 men who went down with 3222 and 7841 so many years ago in Germany, were Cold War victims just as surely as if they had been shot down in flames by the enemy. It would be 34 long years before the Cold War would end, but the aftermath of the accident would foster changes which went a very long way to prevent a Combat Cargo aircraft accident of the magnitude of August 11, 1955 from ever happening again, and to my knowledge, none have occurred.

CLL 3/28/05