The Muroc B-24D
“Widely Scattered Aluminum”
AF # 41-24102
August 23, 1944
Copyright 2004
By: Don R. Jordan
With a sudden flash of light, and an ear splitting explosion, the
flame-engulfed right wing of the big bomber was violently ripped from
its mount. It then began an erratic, uncontrolled flight of its
own back to earth. As it did so the doomed bomber lunged into a
death spiral, which threatening to take the entire crew down with it to
certain death. As the destruction progressed, the disintegrating
bomber rained jagged shards of aluminum, steel, and human bodies over
the wide, desolate terrain more than 18,000 feet below.
It was much like the scenes being played out daily in the very hostile
skies over 1944 Nazi Germany. Following the blinding flash of
light and explosion, the young crew of this well worn, heavy
four-engine bomber, suddenly found themselves in a life or death
struggle to escape their burning ship and parachute to safety.
Some would be successful, and some would not. The ones who were
successful in saving themselves would have no idea how they were able
to get out of the ship as they did. The explosion and loss of the
entire right wing rendered them unconscious, and meant that five of
these young men were about to pay the ultimate price for the defense of
their country. It also meant that pieces of their bomber would be
forever imbedded in the sandy soil far below.
The location of this accident was not in Germany; and the
aircraft was not brought down by hostile fire. Instead, this was
a training mission high above the Mojave Desert in Southern
California. A huge fire of unexplained origin in the bomber’s
number 3 engine had turned this routine night training flight into
tragedy.
This warm August night began as any other for pilot Lt. John L. Graves,
and co-pilot Flight Officer James L. Redd. Graves, from Boise,
Idaho, was only twenty-two years old, and had a mere 512 hours of
flight experience, with only 255 hours of B-24 flight time. The
pair were in B-24 transition training, and were based at the Muroc Army
Airfield in southern California. Muroc would later be renamed
Edwards Air Force Base in honor of Capt. Glenn Edwards who was killed
along with his entire crew while testing the famous YB-49 Flying Wing.
Ironically the YB-49, and “Ship 102” would come to grief in nearly the
same location. The area is located approximately 12 miles
northwest of Edwards, and about five miles east of the small town of
Mojave.
The mission briefing, weather briefings, and pre-flight briefings were
all normal and routine that night. At approximately 9:00 p.m.,
after the aircraft preflight inspection, and the pre-board crew
briefing, Graves and Redd lifted the B-24 off the runway at Muroc and
began the climb into the night sky. The mission objective was to
give both pilots some practice flying on instruments, and then to
practice dropping bombs from 20,000 feet.
Other crewmembers onboard that night were:
Flight Officer Clifton C. Watts, Navigator
2nd Lt. George D. Troen, Bombardier
Cpl Bernard D. Fogel, Flight Engineer
Cpl. Scotty C. Reynolds, Radio Operator
Pfc. James W. Flitcroft, (Duties not listed)
Cpl. Alvin J. Fish, (Assistant Gunner)
Cpl Theodore J. Chzescikanek, (Gunner)
Cpl Robert F. Nieman, (gunner)
According to the surviving co-pilot the first part of the mission went
well. But at 10:55 p.m., shortly after adjusting the four engines
to new climb power settings, things started to go wrong. Graves
had just instructed the crew to put on their heavy high altitude flying
equipment in preparation for the long climb to 20,000 feet. It
might be a warm summer’s night below, but the thin air at the higher
altitude was very cold.
Graves was at the controls of the aircraft, and Redd was making the
desired changes to the four powerful engines. The combined drone
from the four massive radials was a sweet and reassuring sound
indeed. Up front in the nose, Bombardier Troen, and Navigator
Watts removed their parachute harnesses and began the difficult task of
crawling into the cumbersome fir-lined overalls. Troen had
managed to complete the task and strapping his parachute back on, but
Watts had not.
In the radio room Corporal Reynolds was making routine adjustments to
his equipment while seated on a stool in front of the radio
table. There wasn’t much for him to do at the moment.
Redd changed the engine rpm from 2100, to 2400, and the manifold
pressure from 30 inches (of pressure), to 38 inches. Graves then
raised the nose slightly and watched as the airspeed dropped to the
predetermined setting. With that the long, seemingly
routine climb to altitude began.
Within twenty-five seconds of making these new settings, the rpm on the
number three engine suddenly jumped to over 3,000 revolutions.
This was well above the maximum allowable engine speed. It
indicated a run-away propeller on the number three engine. A
“run-away propeller” is a condition whereas the automatically changing
pitch of the propeller blades is no longer properly controlling the
engine speed. A violently shaking engine more often than not
accompanies this condition. In some cases engines shake so
violently that they separate from their mounts, and literally fall off
the wing.
When Redd notices the excessive engine speed, he immediately began to
stabilize the rpm with the Propeller Control Lever. At that point the
problem was not too serious. If need be they could shut the
engine down and return to base for repairs. For that matter, and at
that altitude, they could almost glide to a landing on the giant dry
lakebed at Muroc. The rotating light beacon at the Muroc airfield in
the distance would surely have been in plain view from their current
position and altitude. The aircraft was perfectly capable
of flying on just three engines if need be.
But soon Reynolds became concerned when he noticed a dull orange
glow just outside his radio room window. It was a very dark
night, and there should not have been any lights outside except for the
aircraft’s normal navigation lights, and the purple pulse from the
engine exhausts. As he raised himself up off the stool and peered
out of the small window, he was shocked to see that the entire number
three engine was on fire. The fire was burning so fiercely at
that point that it completely surrounded the engine nacelle, and was
blowing back over and under the leading edge of the right wing.
Pieces from the burning engine were already falling off and blowing
back under the horizontal stabilizer.
Up on the flight deck, co-pilot Redd became aware of the glowing engine
fire at about the same time as Reynolds. After an extremely brief
discussion with the pilot, it was decided that the fire was completely
out of control, and that they needed to evacuate the ship as quickly as
possible. Just behind that fiercely burning engine was the
leading edge of the right wing. And just inside that wing was a
fuel tank containing hundreds of gallons of very volatile aviation
fuel. If the fire were allowed to get to that fuel tank,
the resulting explosion would be catastrophic. Thus there was no
time to send a last radio distress call back to base. They needed
to get out . . .NOW!
Graves verbally gave the abandon ship order to Redd, and then reached
up and flipped the switch on the alarm bells. The crew knew from
their training that if the alarm bells sounded in an aircraft in
flight, it meant only one thing. Abandon ship immediately!
As soon as Graves gave the order, Redd got out of his seat, put on his
parachute and went to the back of the aircraft to supervise the
evacuation. When he left the flight deck, Graves was still in his
seat and at the controls. He passed other crewmembers as he went
and repeated the bailout order to each in turn.
At that point the structural integrity of the ship was still intact, so
the entire crew heard the alarm at the same time. It came
as no surprise to those aft of the burning engine. But up in the
nose Bombardier Troen and Navigator Watts were startled to hear the
suddenly incessant sounding of the alarm bells. They had no idea
what the emergency was, for they could not see the fire and knew
nothing about it. But they knew the alarm meant abandon
ship. They didn’t know why, but were taking no changes.
Troen instructed Watts to open the emergency escape hatch. Watts
had not yet finished snapping his parachute back on. So Troen
stepped forward and quickly removed the hatch cover. After he did
so he stepped back away from the opening to allow Watts to go out
first. Now that the hatch was open the onrushing slipstream
created a suction and low pressure in the nose section. As it did
so the smell and fumes from the wing fire were pulled forward in the
fuselage and were now permeation the entire nose section. Troen
and Watts now knew what the emergency was. They could smell the
fire, and knew that they had to get out immediately. Their
actions now took on a new sense of urgency.
In the next instant all of the lights went out and the entire ship was
plugged into darkness. It was now totally black
inside, and the two men could not even see the hatch opening, let alone
dive through it. It was not a problem they had to consider for
long. For after a very short few seconds, the ship began to spin
wildly, and the centrifugal force threw both men to the right side of
the fuselage and pinned them there. Try as they might they could
not free themselves, for they were held tight by the invisible hand of
gravity.
Redd had just reached the catwalk in the bomb bay when the fire finally
burned through to the fuel cell. As it did a violent explosion ripped
the aircraft apart, and rendered the surviving crewmembers
unconscious. None of the crew who survived had any idea how they
had escaped from of the bomber. As they regained their senses
some would find themselves floating down under the canopies of an open
parachute. Others were still free falling through the dark night
sky, when in a panic they reach for and pulled the ripcord. The
night was so black that they could not see the chute open, but instead
just felt the shock and jar of its deployment. The terrain below
them was not visible in the night, and they had no idea when they would
hit the ground. Many, with severe injuries from the explosion
would receive more injuries as they landed on bushes or Joshua trees
that they never saw coming. Of the ten airmen onboard that night, five
would remain trapped in the falling wreckage, and die upon impact with
the desert below.
Another B-24 flying in the same general area would witness the sudden
ball of fire in the night sky. Its crew would watch mesmerized as
the burning pieces of aircraft trailed flame until they hit the
ground. Soon there were several small fires scattered about
below. The second B-24 pilot began to circle the area while
sending the alarm and directions to the crash site back to the Muroc
Control Tower.
The debris and wreckage had been scattered over a wide area.
Because of the in-flight breakup there were actually several points of
impact on the desert floor. The general location is
12 miles northwest of what is now Edwards Air Force Base. Over
the years since World War II there have been many aircraft crash in
this same general area. So aircraft wreckage is not hard to find
out there. The YB-49 flying wing crash site is only about 5 miles
farther east. Others include an F-104, a civilian P-51 racer, an
F9F jet, an F4-U Corsair, and more than one T-33 jet trainers.
There are even the remains of a KC-97 tanker just off the east end of
the runway at Mojave.
Perhaps at this point it would be interesting to give the reader a
little history on this area. The small town of Mojave has its
origins firmly engraved in history as the rail station where the famous
20 Mule Team Borax wagons would connect with the railroad. Borax
from Death Valley, and the Boron mine would be place in two large
wagons, and then transported by 20 mules and two horses to the railhead
at Mojave. The open pit Borax mine at Boron is located about 25
miles farther to the east. In 2004 the Mojave airport became an
unofficial spaceport when the Burt Rutan designed, and privately
funded, SpaceShipOne soared more than 67 miles straight up and into
outer space. Pilot Mike Melvill became the first civilian to be
awarded Astronaut wings by the FAA for the achievement.
During World War II, the small airport at Mojave became a Marine Corps.
Air station, and was used to train pilots in bombing and gunnery
tactics at the nearby bombing ranges. The massive gunnery and
bombing range was located to the east and north of Mojave. During
the late 1950s a new town would spring up about 12 miles to the
northeast of Mojave on the northern edge of the range. It is not
unusual for residence of the town, California City, to find spent .50
cal. shells and clips scattered about the area. Also in abundance
are the remains of the thousands of exploded bombs that were dropped
during the many years of bombing practice in the area. Several
old targets are also still visible if you know where to look.
Concentrations of spent munitions are centered on these old
targets. During construction for the new town of California City,
crews accidentally dug up several un-exploded bombs that were lying
just a few feet under ground.
On one occasion, while digging a hole for a new septic tank, the
Backhoe operator struck a large solid object about 4 feet down.
Thinking it was just junk, the operator repeatedly tried to dislodge
the object with his bucket so that he could get on with this
work. The object was finally unearthed and placed on the surface
nearby. After close examination by the job foreman it was
determined that the object, which the operator had so roughly removed
from the hole, resembled a bomb.
So the foreman, not wanting the object so close to the job site, hooked
a chain onto the tail section and physically drug the rusting relic
from the area. The backhoe operator was so delighted with his
find that he rode on top of the cylindrical shaped object as it was
drug through the desert to a spot some half-mile away. Later the
EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) people were called in to have a
look. To the horror of the local crew, EOD determined that the
object was a live, still fused 250 lb. Naval practice bomb. They
also determined that it was far too dangerous to remove, so they placed
C4 explosives around the fuse and detonated it where it lay. The
resulting explosion and concussion was heard and felt for miles
around. As for the worker who so proudly rode on the bomb
as it was man-handled through the desert . . . well let’s just say that
he had a little different outlook on life from that time forward!
In the summer of 2003 this author had a similar experience. While
searching with a metal detector in the outskirts of California City for
a crash site on this same bombing range, I detected a large metal
object about 18 inches below the surface. I was well aware of the
potential danger; so I used extreme caution when removing some of the
dirt around the object. Sure enough I discovered the tail fins of
a live 100 lbs. bomb. Later that day the EOD team from Edwards
Air Force Base came out and detonated it with about four pounds of well
place C4. The location where I found this bomb is only about one
half mile from a Middle School in downtown California City.
There is no doubt that many more bombs are still out there, perhaps
under the play area of another school.
Of the ten men onboard the ill-fated B-24 that night only Cpl. Fish
would escape uninjured. He managed to bail out of the doomed ship
just before it exploded. Killed in the accident were Graves,
Watts, Fogel, Flitcroft, and Niemen. The others, though severely
injured, would survive. Co-pilot Redd would land just yards from
two other crewmembers. He would provide first aid until help
could arrive. They were finally driven to the Marine
Airbase hospital by a civilian who just happened to be in the area and
witnessed the crash.
I have searched the area where the B-24 came down many times over the
years, but as of yet I have not found anything that I can definitely
say came from that particular aircraft. What I need to find is a
piece of metal with an aircraft part number on it. After all these
years that might be a little hard to do. Finding a small piece of
wreckage with a 32L prefix would be good enough for me. But so
far the only possible piece that I found was that of a section of
aircraft skin measuring about 2 feet by 3 feet. The piece doesn’t
exhibit evidence of an impact, but rather a ripping action that
separated it from what ever it was attached to. I continue to
search the area as time permits. Maybe someday I, or someone
else, will find that definitive piece that would indicate the precise
spot where the largest pieces of this ill-fated bomber came to rest.
With a sudden flash of light, and an ear splitting explosion, the
flame-engulfed right wing of the big bomber was violently ripped from
its mount, and began an erratic, uncontrolled flight of its own back to
earth. As it did so the doomed bomber lunged into a death spiral,
which threatening to take the entire crew down with it to certain
death. As the destruction progressed, the disintegrating bomber
rained jagged shards of aluminum, steel, and human bodies over the
wide, desolate terrain more than 18,000 feet below.
It was much like the scenes being played out daily in the very hostile
skies over 1944 Nazi Germany. Following the blinding flash of
light and explosion, the young crew of this well worn, heavy
four-engine bomber, suddenly found themselves in a life or death
struggle to escape their burning ship and parachute to safety.
Some would be successful, and some would not. The ones who were
successful in saving themselves would have no idea how they were able
to get of the ship as they did. The explosion and loss of the
entire right wing rendered them unconscious, and meant that five of
these young men were about to pay the ultimate price for the defense of
their country. It also meant that pieces of their bomber would be
forever imbedded in the sandy soil far below.