Gambling casinos in Nevada often offer special incentives in an attempt to lure customers from far away places for a night of gambling, drinking and other adult activities.  In many cases the casinos themselves would pay for all travel expenses.  The idea is that this practice will attract lots of customers, who in turn will spend (lose) lots of money on the card tables or at the roulette wheels.  Sometimes the offer is good for an entire weekend of fun. And at other times it’s just for one wild, fun-filled night.  This DC-3, operated by Hawthorne Nevada Airlines, was chartered for just such a get away special. Each passenger onboard paid $10.00 for the airfare to Hawthorne and return trip back to Burbank.  In addition they received round-trip transportation from the airport to the casino, plus one free meal.  At one time such specials were quite common. But now they are mostly reserved for the “high-rollers” who can wager thousands of dollars at a time.  This particular aircraft was a World War II veteran C-47 that was built in 1943.  It had been converted by the airline for the specific purpose of carry passengers to and from the casinos in Nevada.  A testament to the aircraft’s durability can be found in the total number of flying hours on the airframe, and the fact that many are still in service around the world today.  On the night of the accident this aircraft had accumulated 48,274 hours in the air. It went into service with the airlines on August 2, 1964.  The civilian registration number was N15570.  But on this night it was designated Flight 708.


    At the controls that night was Captain Fred W. Hall, age 44.  Hall had more than 16,348 hours of flying time, which included approximately 6,000 in the DC-3 type aircraft.  Ironically Hall was listed as company Director of Operations and Chief Pilot.  He was also an FAA Authorized Check Airman in the DC-3 type aircraft.  The First Officer was Raymond Hamer, age 42.  Hamer had accumulated more than 3,445 hours of flight time before this fateful last flight.   He had received his Airline Transport Rating on January 1, 1969, and became a First Officer for the Airline on February 1, 1969.


    Patricia S. Nannes, age 22 was the only stewardess in the cabin attending to the thirty-two passengers that night.  She had been with the airline since September 1968.  She completed her 50 hours of company training and was designated a Stewardess on October 25, 1968.


    Flight 708 was on a round trip “Gamblers Special” flight from Long Beach, California to Hawthorne, with a stop at Burbank.  It had departed Long Beach at 6:30 p.m. on February 17, 1969, and arrived in Hawthorne at 8:40 p.m.  It was scheduled to depart on the return flight at 4:00 a.m. the next morning with the same thirty-two passengers it arrived with.   After arriving at the Hawthorne Airport the stewardess and thirty-two passengers were transported to the lodge by a chartered bus.  The Captain and First Officer were provided with a company car to use for the same trip. 



    By 9:15 p.m. the Captain and First Officer were in their rooms and preparing to retire for a night of much needed rest.   It was the job of the stewardess to attend to the needs of the passengers before retiring to her room.  That being done, she was in her room at approximately 9:30 p.m.  At the lodge the excited passengers began a frenzied night of drinking, gambling, and just plain having fun. They only had a few hours to spend at the casino, so they were determined to make the most of it.  Little did they know that disaster and death awaited them with the coming light of the new day.


  During the night the aircraft was made ready for the return flight.  The cabin was cleaned and the aircraft was serviced with another 200 gallons of fuel in its tanks.  This flight, like so many others, seems destined to be as normal and routine as the one before it.  By about 8 a.m. the next morning all concerned expected to be back in Burbank.  The passengers would be preparing to go about their lives as usual, and the crew would be preparing to make another trip that night.  This was the daily routine for the “Gamblers Special”

At about 3 a.m. the next morning the flight crew went down to the restaurant for some breakfast before starting their workday.  It was the job of the First Officer to check the weather and file the Flight Plan for the return flight.  So at approximately 3:05 a.m. he telephone the Tonopah Flight Service Station to get a current weather briefing, and to filed their flight plan.

   
    In the weather briefing the First Officer received the following weather forecast and surface weather conditions:

                Tonopah: 0400 – Cirri form broken at indeterminate height, visibility 15 miles plus, temperature 31 degree (F), wind 090                         degrees at  5 knots, altimeter setting 29.84.

                Bishop: 0600 - measured 3,200 overcast, visibility 8 miles, light rain, temperature 34 degrees F, dew point 32 degree (F),
                wind  170 at 14 knots.


               (Note: The pertinent winds aloft information was not given to the crew.)


    These weather observations, and other factors, made a visual flight to Burbank somewhat risky.  Particularly for a night flight that would be passing in such close proximity to high terrain!  There was no doubt that some instrument weather was going to be encountered somewhere along the route.  In spite of the marginal weather and dismal forecast the first officer filed the following flight plan:


“Flight 708, DC-3, VFR (Visual Flight Rules) direct Hawthorne to Burbank, Altitude 11,500 feet, Time enroute 2 plus 15, fuel on board 3 plus 45, Pilot Hamer, Aircraft color- Blue and white, Estimated off the ground at 1150z (minus 8 hours for Pacific Standard time, or 3:50 a.m. local time)."

   
    It was obvious that the crew was in a hurry to get back to Burbank.  But the fact is that it is not possible to go directly from Hawthorne to Burbank at 11,500 feet.  Lying directly on the straight-line flight path are some very high and treacherous mountain peaks.  These peaks included California’s Mt. Whitney, which stands well over 14,000 feet high.  It is a dangerous area to fly in, and the FAA had even mandated a route around these mountains for all company aircraft operating on a VFR clearance.  That route was:


“From Hawthorne direct to the intersection of Victor Airway 105 (V105) and the 240 degree radial (240R of Mina (MVA) VOR - V105 to Beatty (BTY) VTAC.  Then BTY VTAC directly to Inyokern Airport, California - Inyokern Airport directly to Palmdale (PMD) VTAC - PMD VTAC via Federal Airways to BUR (Burbank)”

    That was the required route of flight for this aircraft on that night.  But this crew chose not to follow that procedure.  The only safe route for a nearly direct flight to Burbank was to first fly south to the small town of Bishop.  The straight-line course to Bishop would have been a magnetic compass heading of approximately 150 degrees. In marginal weather this in itself would have been a risky flight at only 11,500 feet.  At the time there was no VOR station at Bishop to use for navigation.  The only means of navigating along this route was by Dead Reckoning

    Dead reckoning navigation is the art of navigation by using time, speed and heading to determine the aircraft’s position.  For example, you know that the next checkpoint is 120 miles away on a bearing of 180 degrees.  So if you fly on a heading of 180 degrees, and maintain a speed of 120 miles per hour, then you know that in one hour you will be over your destination.  Most early air navigators used this method, particularly on long over-water flights. It works quite well.  But there is one factor that could greatly affect the pilot’s ability to maintain speed and heading over the ground.  And that factor is the winds aloft.  A strong tail wind would push the aircraft farther along the flight path than expected.  A head wind would not allow the aircraft to maintain the desired speed over the ground.  And a wind from the right would push the aircraft to the left of track just as a wind from the left would push it to the right.


    It was primarily the winds aloft that night that doomed this flight to a disastrous ending.  Just to the south of Bishop, about one hundred miles, the winds at 12,000 feet were forecast to be from 160 degrees at nearly 40 knots.  Nearly a direct headwind!  This meant that the effective ground speed of the flight could have been reduced by as much as 40 knots.


    To complicate matters,  to the south of the Hawthorne airport are several mountain peaks that average well over 9,500 feet in height.   Just to the north of Bishop, and running parallel to this course, are the formidable White Mountains. There are four peaks in this mountain range alone that rise up to well over 11,500 feet high.  The highest peak, White Mountain, stands at 14,246 feet above sea level. On the chosen route it would have been no more that ten miles off the left wing of the DC-3 as it traveled south.

Bishop had reported overcast skies, so it is was not likely that the crew would be able to positively locate their position by visually sighting the town.  There may have been a slight glow from the city lights reflecting up through the cloud cover however.


    From Bishop the flight would have continued south down the Owens Valley for approximately one hundred miles, and all the while trying to maintain a ground track of 145 degrees.  This narrow corridor is only twenty miles wide (peak to peak) at the widest point, and is lined with peaks higher than the cruising altitude of flight 708.  The heading of 145 degrees would not have taken the aircraft directly to Palmdale, so a course change had to take place somewhere along the route.  It is theorized that the aircraft continued on south to a point where the crew felt it was safe to make a slight course correction to the right (westerly) in order to make good a more direct route to Palmdale.  Palmdale was the closest radio-navigational facility (VOR) that the crew could have used to home in on.  But, because of the distance involved, they could not receive the Palmdale VOR while in the Owens Valley.  In addition, the Restricted Area (R-2505) around the China Lake Naval Weapons Center had to be circumnavigated.  The new heading should have been approximately 170 degrees magnetic from directly over Owens Dry Lake.


    Considering the elapsed flight time, which was later determined by the stopped wristwatches found in the wreckage, it was assumed that the crew most likely flew directly south from Bishop.  They navigated down the valley by dead reckoning to a point where they thought they would be clear of the high terrain to the west (i.e., over Owens Dry Lake).  At that point the course change to the right was made which they thought would allow them to cross the mountains south of Mt. Whitney where the terrain is much lower.  It was a good plan-if not for the head winds, and the fact that it was pitch black outside of the cockpit windows.  And in addition to the bad weather-it was a moonless night.  The fact is that when they made the course change to approximately 170 degrees-they were still north-northeast of Mt. Whitney!  That course changed seal the fate of Flight 708.  So as the craft rushed headlong through the frigid night air, no one on board knew that death and destruction was just minutes away.
 
    As stated previously, on that route the high ground would pass by at not more than 10 miles to the east or west.  This is of course assuming that they were dead center in the narrow valley.  In February of 1974 there were no Navaids (Navigational Aids) for them to follow, so such a route using dead reckoning alone would be extremely dangerous-especially at night and in marginal weather. One can only ask-what were they thinking?


    Regardless, shortly after finishing their breakfast that early morning, the Captain and First Officer departed by company car for the return trip to the airport.  Once there they began getting the aircraft ready for the returning passengers.  The preparations included a thorough pre-flight of the DC-3 to insure that everything was in proper working order. At 03:35 a.m. the bus carrying the weary passengers left the casino and began the trip back to the waiting aircraft.  They were no doubt tired and sleepy from being awake all night.  Most expected to get some sleep on the way back to Burbank.  When the crash occurred most were probably fast asleep and never knew what happened.


    Once the 32 passengers were onboard and bucked into their seats the flight crew started the engines and began the pre takeoff checklist.  When that was completed the First Officer motioned to the ground crew to remove the wheel blocks and the DC-3 began to taxi toward the runway.  In the run up area the crew checked the engines and all systems once more.  Everything checked out okay, so the brakes were released and the aging aircraft with its sleepy and perhaps somewhat intoxicated human cargo began their final takeoff roll.  None onboard would live to see the light of the coming day.


    Once airborne the Captain made one big circle around the airfield while climbing for altitude.  The navigational lights and the blue-green fire from the engine exhaust were all that was visible from the ground.  Soon the circling lights were seen moving off to the south and finally faded from view.

    At 4:06 a.m. the radio in the Tonopah Flight Service Station crackled to life with the last call from flight 708.  It was co-pilot Hamer, and he was asking Tonopah to open their VFR flight plan.  They were on their way winging south in the clear, cold pre-dawn air. The sound from the engines would have lulled the passengers to sleep, and at that time of morning the flight should have been in smooth, turbulent free air.  But in slightly more than an hour’s time, at 11,770 feet, and in a blinding, explosive flash of light, the aircraft would impact the side of Hogback Ridge near Mt. Whitney, instantly killing everyone onboard.  In all likelihood none, including the pilots, saw the rapidly approaching solid rock wall.  Within hours of the impact records snows would cover the wreckage and make it nearly impossible to see.  Down in the Owens Valley, eleven miles to the east, the sleeping, picturesque little town of Lone Pine would receive a record three feet of new snow during that night.


    Back at Burbank company employees waited in vain for the flight to return.  But when the aircraft became more than an hour overdue reality began to set in.  Soon it became apparent that flight 708 was down somewhere between Hawthorne and Burbank, and the search was on. But finding the DC-3 was going to be difficult, for it seemed to have simply disappeared. 


    Immediately upon notification that the aircraft was missing the Western Aerospace Rescue Recovery Center (WARRC), located at Hamilton Air Force Base, launched an intensive search, which continued through March 8th with negative results.  The winter snow had blanketed the area, which made a downed aircraft even harder to see.  To make matters worse the authorities were not even sure where to start looking.  The flight plan called for a direct route, but the aircraft could have deviated from the direct route with out the requirement to report its position or intentions to Flight Service.  Position reports in IFR flight are mandatory!  But in VFR flight it is primarily up to the pilot’s discretion.


    The WARRC reported that military volunteers and Civil Air Patrol (CAP) personnel participated in the search.  A total of 426 sorties were flown involving 944.3 flight-hours.  In all some seventy-eight ground teams and about 1,095 personnel were involved in the search.  This included approximately 302 ground vehicles from both the CAP and the Mineral County and Inyo County Sheriff’s offices.  But the aircraft was nowhere to be found!  After the official search efforts were suspended on March 8th the CAP continued to fly sorties in a last ditch effort to locate the downed craft.  The Civil Air Patrol dates back to World War II, and is mainly comprised of civilian volunteers flying civilian aircraft. There were 35 souls onboard flight 708, and if at all possible they were going to find them.


    During the weekend of March 15 and 16 the CAP flew 49 sorties involving 22 light privately owned aircraft.  Flying light aircraft at such low altitudes in such high terrain is inherently dangerous.  Unfortunately during that weekend search one aircraft was lost at the 12,500-foot level on Mt. Tom.  The aircraft was destroyed, but luckily the three-man crew was quickly rescued by helicopter.  They each received severe injuries, but would live to fly again. Despite the Herculean effort by all concerned nothing was found from the missing DC-3, or its 35 passengers.


     In the coming summer months the winter snows began to melt at the higher elevations.   So a few illustrious private pilots took up the search once more.  They searched sporadically during the months of April, May, June, and July.  But still they found nothing!

Then on August 8, 1969, a private pilot and his wife flying in a Cessna 172 out of Bakersfield, California spotted something shiny on the northeastern slope of Hogback Ridge near Mt. Whitney.  They thought it might be unmarked aircraft wreckage. Peviously found aircraft wreckage is always marked with a large yellow “X”, or other sign, to indicate that the site is known, and that there is no need to report it again.


    The Sierra Mountains are littered with untold numbers of lost light aircraft, so sighting wreckage on the rugged slopes was not in itself unusual.  But as they came around for closer look, they realized that there was just too much wreckage for this to be a small light plane.  So they marked the spot on the map and then continued back to Bakersfield and reported the find.  The next day, August 9, 1969, he and another pilot returned to the same area in a company owned helicopter.  This time he was able to fly even slower over the debris field.  And as he did he spotted a very large flat piece of aircraft wreckage protruding out from the snow pack.  It was the mangled and twisted wing section from a large transport type aircraft, and on the flat surface was the clearly visible aircraft registration number.  To his astonishment it read “N15570”.  The “Gambles Special” had been found!


    Once positive identification of the aircraft had been made the gruesome task of recovering the 32 passengers and 3 crewmembers began.  And a gruesome task it was!  Human remains were scattered all through the debris field. The aircraft had slammed into the side of a sheer rock wall, and then slid some 500 feet down the embankment shedding parts as it went. Fifteen bodies were found almost immediately laying on top of the melting snow. The others were still trapped within the mangled and burned wreckage.  Scattered on top of the snow and throughout the accident scene were the last worldly possessions of the poor souls who spent their last night in the gambling casinos at Hawthorne. Nevada. Shoes, lady’s purses, hats, coats and other luggage from the passengers were mixed in with the debris of the DC-3 that carried them into eternity.


    Later that same day an H43B helicopter from WARRC flew two sorties to the accident site from the tiny Lone Pine airport.  Onboard, and the first to visit the accident scene on the ground, was the Inyo County Sheriff, and members of the China Lake Mountain Rescue Group.  On August 10th, the bad luck of the Gambles Special struck again.  As the H43B was attempting to land near the accident site a sudden severe downdraft from the slopes above slammed the craft down for an extremely hard landing.  Onboard the helicopter at the time was the County Coroner and three members of the Inyo County Sheriff’s office.  The Sheriff received serious back injuries, which required his hospitalization, and the helicopter was nearly destroyed.  Parts from the damaged helicopter remain at the site to this day.

Investigation of the accident revealed that the aircraft made contact with the south wall of an oblong shaped canyon at an elevation of 11,770 feet above sea level.  The terrain at the point of impact was near vertical.  Upon impact the main wreckage fell seventy feet to the base of the cliff, and then continued to tumble farther on down the rugged rocky slope.  It finally came to rest approximately five hundred feet down slope, and at an elevation of 11,400 feet.  Large parts of the main airframe structure came to rest at the base of the cliff where the impact occurred.  The forward portion of the fuselage, including the cockpit enclosure, could not be identified.   However, portions of the cockpit equipment were found all along the debris field.


    The aft fuselage and empennage section separated from the remainder of the fuselage at the forward edge of the cargo door.  Both horizontal stabilizers and the vertical stabilizer were still attached to this section.  The left engine was located 200 feet down the slope from the point of impact, and the right engine had rolled all the way to the bottom of the debris field some 500 feet down slope.  Both engines were severely damaged from impact forces, but they did not show any signs of a malfunction before the crash.


    Many cockpit instruments were located scattered about.  The badly damaged magnetic compass was found lying in the main debris field.  The indicator card was locked in place by impact damage.  It indicated an approximate head of 170 degrees.  It took several weeks to recover all of the bodies, and to finish the investigation.  In the end it was concluded that pilot error was the main reason why this aircraft went crashing into the cliff face that early winter’s morning.  It was stated in the official crash report that if this crew would have flown the route as directed, this accident would not have happened.  The route taken was clearly in violation of company and FAA directives.  At the time this accident occurred this aircraft should have been some 80 miles to the east and on Victor Airway 105.

Today, because of its height and location, the site is rarely, if ever, visited.  Very few people have the stamina to make the long, hard, arduous climb up to the remains of N15570.  And except for the newspaper photos taken at the time of recovery, there are very few modern photos of the wreckage as it appears today.


    Then, in the summer of 2002, one well-known long time wreck chaser from Trona, California finally made it to the hallowed ground at the base of Hogback ridge.  Tom Gossett has visited more than 200 aircraft crash sites in and around the Mojave Desert region.  He had made three attempts to locate this crash site in the years prior to this attempt. That summer he felt compelled to make one more try.

So in July of that year, armed with some Xerox copies of the photos in the crash report, Tom and his friend John traveled to the base of Mt. Whitney.  There at 4 a.m., at 6,800 feet above sea level, and in total darkness they began to climb.  The first couple hours into the journey were over the same ground covered on the previous attempts.   Soon they came to an area where the trail spit.  This time they took the trail never before traveled.  It led up through the trees, sand, boulders and Manzanita.  Up, up, up and always up.  On they went-climbing for the top-determined to find the “Gambles Special.”  When their lungs ached, and their leg muscles burned from the strain, they would stop and rest for a while.  All while they were climbing, they could see the little town of Lone Pine getting smaller and smaller far below.


    On they went, through 7,000, 8,000, and 9,000 feet-they thought it would never end.  Looking straight down at the ground they would put one foot in front of the other over and over again.  This is unreal, but the thought of turning back never entered their minds.

Finally, at 11,000 feet, where the air is thin and cold, the terrain leveled off somewhat.  At that point they still were not sure they were even in the right canyon. Then suddenly as they crossed a field of granite boulders they came to a small lake with crystal clear water.  The lake was not more than 75 yards in diameter, and perfectly round in shape.  There they sat down to rest their weary muscles, and to replenish their water supply.  As he was resting something caught Tom’s eye on the far shore.  Something was laying there that looked out of place.  It didn’t match the surrounding landscape features, so Tom went to investigate.  What he found sent the blood surging though his veins, and the excitement began welled up inside him.  He had found the remains of the severely damaged H34B helicopter’s main rotor blades.  The same helicopter that crashed during the recovery operations back in 1969.  Now they knew they were in the right canyon, and the remains of N15570 were just one hundred yards away.


    With renewed energy they crossed the last hundred yards to the base of Hogback Ridge.  They arrived at 1:30 p.m., and the sight that greeted them was amazing. “It was breathtaking,” said Tom.  “There, sticking out of the permanent snow pack was a huge, badly damaged white airplane wing.”


    Soon other wreckage came into view.  The second wing was farther up the slope, engines, propellers, and shards of aluminum were everywhere.  The human aspect of this crash was also evident.  Scattered all around were the personal possession from the 35 people who died there.  Shoes, socks, coats, and even a lady’s purse was lying among the snow covered boulders and wreckage.

John opened the lady’s purse and peered inside.  There inside were all the articles you would expect a lady would carry with her on a long trip.  Make-up, lipstick and rouge, even a hairbrush was there.  Who did it belong to he wondered?


    As he examined the items, a strange, sobering feeling came over him.  The realization that 35 people had died on this very spot began to set in.  So he replaced the items in the purse, and placed it back where he had found it.  He told Tom that he was going to leave the area immediately, and would wait for him at the edge of the lake.  He had seen enough, and vowed to never come back.  This was just too much for him to comprehend.  Tom understood, for he was somewhat taken aback himself by the sight of so many personal item still onsite.  But he had come this far to record the site for posterity, and nothing was going to stop him now.

    In the next hour Tom shot dozens of still photos, and took fifteen minutes of video before his camera battery went dead.  Then he headed back to the lake where John was waiting.  He was satisfied with the day’s achievement, but now they had a long way to go to get back to the car before darkness sets in.  It had taken them nine and a half hours to reach the site, and they figured it would take at least five hours to get back down.  So after a brief rest, the descent began.


    As far as I know, Tom Gossett and John are the only wreck chasers to have visited this crash site.  Tom said that he would never make that climb again on foot.  The next time he goes that far up it will be by helicopter.  The Gamblers Special has reposed on the slopes of Mt. Whitney, at the base of Hogback Ridge, for some 34 years now, and is destined to remain undisturbed for generations to come.