Time Trek: A Flight to Area 51

By James F. Casey

"Time Trek" is a novel about travel through space and time. The story is segmented into three parts that roughly correspond to the present, past, and future. The first part is the tale of a journey to the most-secret facility in the country, deep inside the restricted area of the Nevada desert. The second part is about traveling into the recent past. "Time Trek" is for everyone who has wondered what they would do if they had a time machine (after they got the winning lottery numbers).
Take a trip through time and stand on the battlefield with George Custer as he fights his disastrous battle at the Little Big Horn. Later, take to the sky during World War II and fight your way deep into Nazi airspace in the pilot's seat of a B-17 bomber. Talk to Washington and Lincoln and find out what motivated them to greatness. Then, the story moves on to a tortured, post-apocalyptic future and a fight for survival against aliens who are intent upon the destruction of Humanity.
"Time Trek" is a wild ride that goes in many different directions. This story is often thought-provoking, insightful, and informative, but never dull. Buckle up and hold on tight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350907599

Book preview

The Box

It was September of 1986. I had been flying the F-15 for several years by that time and I was a Flight Lead and Instructor on the airplane. My squadron was deployed to Las Vegas for two weeks of Red Flag.

Red Flag was the name given to a large-scale air combat simulation exercise that took place in the Nevada Desert just north of Las Vegas. Each Red Flag session was tailored to an active-duty Fighter Wing that was referred to as the Core Unit. At that time the Core Unit was usually an F-4 or an F-16 ground-attack Wing.

The F-15 wings were never the ‘Core’ because we were support units.

Other support units were the Wild Weasels whose job it was to neutralize surface-to-air missiles, various electronic jamming assets and the AWACs airborne control elements. The fighters of many NATO and other foreign nations participated as well.

A typical Red Flag exercise involved about 90 aircraft. At that time, most (but not all), of the air units that participated in the exercise were temporarily based out of Nellis AFB on the north side of Las Vegas. This allowed for mass briefings and de-briefings by the participants. Due to ramp space restrictions, the tankers that supported Red Flag flew out of other bases around the southwestern US. Occasionally, B-52s participated and they flew from their home bases when they did.

The concept for Red Flag came from the US Air Force’s experience in Viet Nam. Post-war data showed that most fighter pilots who were shot down were shot down on one of their first five combat sorties. If a pilot could survive those first five missions, he was much more likely to complete his entire tour of combat.

The typical Red Flag was a six-week long affair that was divided into three two-week long segments. Since the normal Fighter Wing at that time had three squadrons, the Red Flag Scenario would reset every two weeks and different squadrons would deploy to participate.

The goal was for every squadron pilot in the Core Unit to fly his five missions in the two-week long segment. In order to be successful, each Red Flag mission had to be as realistic as possible. This made it very dangerous.

We also were tasked, from time to time, to participate as the Red Air (the bad guys) so we spent a lot of time at Nellis and became very familiar with the range complex there.

In my previous assignment as a Forward Air Controller based in Tucson, Arizona, we supported not only the Red Flag operations but also the F-4 and A-10 Fighter Weapons Schools, both of which were based at Nellis. We operated single-ship, single pilot much of the time so we were allowed a great deal of independence on the range. Far more independence than any fighter would be allowed. We often supported multiple strikes over the course of a four-hour mission. Rather than fly back and forth to Nellis in between flights, we normally would wait on the range. These long periods of idle time afforded us the opportunity to explore the ranges and we became very familiar with them.

The Fighter Weapons school sorties initially used the southern areas, R-4806 and R-4808 which were to the south of the Red Flag range, R-4809.

When I first started flying in the Air Force in 1980, we, Forward Air Controllers, were allowed to move pretty freely throughout the entire range complex. We were told that there was an airbase at Groom Lake which we were supposed to avoid. Each of us was instructed to draw a red square around the Groom Lake Field on our personal navigation maps, to remind us to avoid this area. We were told that the runway, which we could clearly see from the air, was usable in an emergency but should be avoided otherwise. The range officers called the red square, Groom Lake or R-4806. UFO fanatics called it Area 51. We simply referred to it as ‘The Box’.

Initially, flying through the range complex wasn’t such a big deal but over the years it kept becoming more restrictive. Pahute Mesa was a broad, relatively flat area just to the south of the Red Flag ranges. I was told that the Mesa had been the sight of nuclear tests that had been conducted twenty years or so earlier. The area was pock-marked by several large craters that I was told were caused by underground nuclear explosions.

At some time during the early nineteen-eighties, The Department of Energy took control of this area. They further sub-divided it into smaller areas known as R-4808 north and R-4808 east. At first, we were still allowed to fly over them but eventually they became just as restrictive as the Box. Along with these restrictions, the red square around ‘the Box’ got larger and the range officers became much more serious about avoiding it. We were briefed that the runway could still be used in an emergency, but anyone who flew into there could expect to be de-briefed for 72 hours or so before they were sent home. Sent home, as in, back to your home station. No more Red Flag participation. I didn’t personally know anyone who had flown into the Box, so I wasn’t sure how much was fact and how much was fiction.

In military airplanes, we routinely monitored a separate radio frequency that was reserved for emergency communications. It was called Guard and any transmission on it would be received by every military airplane in the area. From time to time, as the seriousness of an incursion into the Box increased, we would hear transmissions such as This is Nellis Control on guard, Cylon 22 turn north immediately to avoid restricted airspace! It was like the voice of God emanating from some unseen location.

It was not uncommon, in the heat of battle, for a pilot to misjudge his¹ position and inadvertently cut across the northwest corner of the box. Pilots who accidentally cut through the Box would get a warning if it was just a minor incursion. There were a few blatant incursions that I was aware of, and I can’t say for certain what happened to the pilots, but I know that they didn’t attend the de-briefing and we didn’t see them again for the remainder of the Red Flag session. The Powers above us had gotten very serious about security in the Box.

I was leading a four-ship sortie of F-15s on a pre-strike sweep through the range complex. It was our mission to sweep the area of enemy fighters so that the strike package could get to their targets unmolested. Another four-ship formation of F-15s would be mixed in with the strikers as close-escort.

This was the kind of mission that we loved to fly because we would be the first ones into the target area. We could shoot virtually anything we saw since there were no friendly aircraft ahead of us.

The Red Flag missions were designed to simulate a real combat mission as closely as possible. Before we stepped out to the jets, we removed the unit patches from our flight suits and stowed them in a locker. They were attached by Velcro so that they could be easily removed and replaced. We also stowed our wallets and wedding rings along with the patches. It was called sanitizing and it was part of the process of preparing to fly a combat sortie. If you were shot down and captured, the unit patches could be used by the enemy to tell which units were arrayed against them. Rings and wallets are traditionally the first items to be stolen from captured fliers. Also, bulky items like wallets would interfere with the operation of our anti-G suits which had to fit snugly against our legs and abdomen to work properly.

At one time, the rank that we wore was attached with Velcro as well, but someone astutely realized that with no patches and no rank, the flight suit was no longer a uniform. People who are captured in a combat zone who are not wearing a uniform, can be shot as spies. Consequently, our rank was sewn on to our flight suits. We wore survival vests and were issued handguns which fit into a holster on the left side of the vest. It was bulky and uncomfortable, but the idea was to be as authentic as possible.

Lt. Scott Lawton was my wingman, Capt. Dave Flanagin was number three and Lt. Randy Moore was number four. Scott and Randy were both somewhat new to the squadron and both had come straight from pilot training. This was the first Red Flag deployment for both of them. They were good pilots and nice guys. Scott was married with an infant daughter. Randy was single. Dave was a good friend, and he had more time in the F-15 than I did. He had checked me out as an instructor, but I was leading this one because we passed around the leadership baton so that everyone got a chance.

The four of us stepped out of the life-support facility at around 0730 and walked out to the jets. It was already uncomfortably hot. We could feel the heat rising off the black pavement as we made our way to the flight line.

Thankfully, the F-15 was part of a newer generation of fighters that could provide adequate air conditioning on the ground once the engines had been started. Each of us performed a pre-flight inspection of his jet, made our way up the ladder and strapped in. We anxiously awaited the time to start engines when we could close the canopy and enjoy the comfort of air-conditioning.

At the designated time, all four of the F-15s in our flight started engines and I quickly checked each of them in on the radio. Our flight’s call-sign was Fazer Four-one. As lead, I was Fazer 41, Scott was 42, Dave was 43 and Randy was 44.

The check-in went well. There were no problems with anyone’s jet. We taxied out to the end of the runway together in single file with the three other jets behind mine. I stopped short of the Runway 21 Right hold line. We were using Runway Two-One Right which had us flying to the southeast initially, toward the City of Las Vegas.

Fazer Four-one, flight of four F-15s holding short of Runway Two-One Right, I said on the tower radio frequency.

Fazer Four-one flight taxi into position and hold; Runway Two-One Right, the voice of the tower controller responded.

Fazer Four-one on and hold, Runway Two-One Right, I transmitted and moved my jet quickly onto the runway. I centered the nosewheel of my plane on the left half of the runway and pulled forward enough to allow the rest of the flight to get in behind me. Once I had stopped, I looked back over my right shoulder and watched as Scott pulled in and stopped his jet with the nose wheel on the painted runway centerline, about thirty degrees behind my jet. Then Scott looked back over his right shoulder and watched as Dave positioned his jet behind ours on the same thirty-degree line with Scott and the nosewheel centered on the right half of the runway. Once he was in position, Dave looked back and to his left to watch as Randy taxied in behind him. The nose of Randy’s jet was between and behind Me and Scott. I could see Randy with the mirrors in my jet. Oddly, they weren’t high-tech super mirrors, they were the kind of rearview mirror that you would find in any automobile.

Once Randy had stopped his jet in its proper position, he made an exaggerated head nod to Dave. Dave passed the head nod on to Scott. Scott turned to look at me and passed the same signal to me. This was the indication that all three of them were ready to go. No words were needed.

After a short pause, the Tower controller came back on the radio, Fazer Four-One Flight, the winds are two-four zero at 10 knots, cleared for take-off, Runway Two-One Right.

Fazer Four-One, cleared to take-off on Two-One Right, I responded.

I quickly glanced over to Scott again and then tilted my head back against the headrest so that I was looking high above the horizon. I brought my head down quickly as the signal to Scott to release brakes and pushed both throttles up to the military power stop. Afterburners were not required on the 11,000-foot runway so once I got all of the way to mil power, I backed the throttles off just a bit so that Scott would have a slight power advantage on me if he started to fall behind. From brake release to take-off, Scott followed my actions precisely. It was as if I was flying both airplanes. We accelerated quickly. At 120 knots I started to pull back on the control stick. The nose wheels of our airplanes came off of the ground simultaneously. With the nosewheel four or five feet above the runway surface, both of our airplanes flew off the ground at around 140 knots. It was difficult to be certain that we were off of the ground because the take-off was so smooth.

After Scott and I released our brakes, Dave counted to five before he made the same exaggerated head nod to Randy and the two of them rocketed down the runway behind us.

We always did formation take-offs from Nellis just to save time, but only the Thunderbirds are allowed to do four-ship take-offs. A four-ship formation take-off would be unnecessarily dangerous if someone’s jet developed a problem during the take-off roll. As a two-ship, if one of the airplanes in the lead element had to abort the take-off, they continued to roll down the runway until the trailing element had taken-off over them. There was still plenty of runway left to get the airplane stopped. If an element lead had to abort, the wingman just continued without him, and the formation would be re-organized after they had gotten airborne.

All four of us took off without incident and I contacted Nellis Departure on the radio while rolling into a lazy left turn back toward the north. The angles created by our turn would give Dave the advantage that he needed to bring his element back into formation with me. He used the turn to cut across our turning circle and quickly rejoined our formation. I positioned Scott on my left wing and put Dave and his element on my right. Once they were tucked back into a tight finger-tip formation, I wagged my rudders back and forth slightly, signaling them to open to a wider route formation. It was a more comfortable formation that allowed all three of them to help me visually clear the area ahead of us of other traffic. The trip to the tankers was short and uneventful.

The tanker orbit was near a prominent dry lakebed known as Texas Lake because it resembled an outline of the State of Texas. At times, if the core unit of the Red Flag session was an A-10 Wing, C-130 transport planes would land on Texas Lake carrying fuel bladders. Some of the A-10s would eschew the airborne tankers and land on Texas Lake. Once they had hooked up to the fuel bladders, they could top off their tanks to simulate refueling in austere conditions and to prove the concept was viable. All the other fighters always used the airborne tankers.

As we closed on the tankers, we could see a beautiful, aerial ballet of sorts that was already in progress. There were four KC-135 tankers flying in a trail formation at 26,000 feet. The lead tanker was level, and each following tanker was about a mile behind the one in front of it, offset slightly to the right and five hundred feet lower. By the time that we got there, most of the fighters in the strike package were already there and had started to refuel. Each large KC-135 had four to six fighters surrounding it. The fighters appeared to move around the tankers like busy bees around a hive.

Our assigned tanker was the last one in the line. It had been reserved for us because we really didn’t need very much gas so, if any of the fighters had a problem getting gas from their tanker they were to drop back and use ours.

The refueling was conducted using minimum radio communications. Both the tanker crews and the fighter pilots had been thoroughly briefed before we took off.

I had locked the tanker formation on my radar as soon as we had completed our turn to the north after take-off. It wasn’t hard to find them on the radar, they weren’t trying to avoid detection and I knew where to look for them. Additionally, we used a discrete two-digit Mode 1 code on the transponder to find and identify them. All I really had to do was to turn my airplane in their general direction and then press a button on the throttles to interrogate for their Mode 1 code. I locked them at about 100 miles and then watched them maneuver in their holding pattern as we closed the distance between us. The tankers were 1,000 feet above us when I first spotted them visually. Conveniently, they had just reached the southern end of their orbit and were turning back to the north. It was just a simple tail chase the rest of the way in. They rolled out on the northbound leg of their orbit that was oriented north/south in the entry corridor to the Nellis ranges as we closed within a mile of them. We were going about 400 knots and the tankers were at three hundred, so we had plenty of overtake on them. I rocked the wings of my airplane. It was the signal for my wingmen to come back into close formation. With only three feet of wingtip separation between us, they could not take their eyes off my aircraft for even a moment. From this point on, it was my responsibility to clear for the flight and to join up on the tanker’s left wing. As we closed to about 500 feet on the tanker, I dipped my left wing slightly as a signal for the flight to move into a left echelon formation. In the fingertip position, number two was on my left wing. Dave and his wingman were on my right. In left echelon, all three airplanes of my flight would be on my left wing. It was a more difficult position for them to fly but they could all look past me and see the tanker as we closed in on it. We joined on the tanker’s left wing without using any radio calls. Once we were in position, the tanker lowered its boom to indicate that it was ready to take the first receiver.

The Boom is a large metal tube that is attached to the lower aft fuselage of the tanker. In the KC-135, the boom Operator lies on his stomach in the back of the aircraft, looking out of a window where he can see the receiver aircraft. He is able to move the boom within a restricted envelope by controlling the ruddervators, (two small wing-like devices) on the end of the boom. The ruddervators are controlled by a joystick and can move the boom left or right and up or down. Additionally, there is another moveable portion of the boom that can be extended or retracted by the boom operator. It is brightly colored to give the receiver pilot a visual indication of his position within the boom’s movement envelope. There are two fluorescent red bands on either end of the extendable boom. These are the fore and aft limits of the boom’s movement. Closer to the center of the boom are yellow and fluorescent green bands to visually identify the proper limits of the boom’s extension. In the center of the green band there is a small black circle. We called this the green apple, and it indicated the perfect fore and aft position for refueling. There were also two light bars attached to the bottom of the tanker. They were operated by the boom operator like traffic signals (on newer tankers these bars operated automatically). One bar prompted the receiver to move forward or aft and the other was for up and down. The Boomer could give directions over the radio but in a combat situation, those calls can be intercepted and used to determine the size and disposition of a strike force, so we endeavored to say nothing on the radio unless it was an emergency.

Following normal wingman etiquette procedures, I planned for Scott and Randy to refuel before Dave, and I did. It is akin to the Sun Tzu theory that, No Officer should eat until he is certain that all of his men have been fed. No Officer goes to sleep at night until he is certain that all of his men have an adequate place to sleep. In a real combat environment, the wingman gets on the boom first and then once everyone else has been refueled, the most junior wingman gets on the boom one last time to top off his tanks and to ensure that he always has an adequate supply of fuel. It has been said that the only time you have too much fuel in an airplane is when you’re on fire! We had briefed the tanker on what we were planning so that there would be no surprises in the air. They really didn’t care which airplane got the fuel, but they had to know what each receiver had gotten for accounting purposes.

I gave a hand signal and Scott dropped back from our formation and moved to the pre-contact position, about 20 feet aft of, and slightly below the end of the boom. In the F-15, the refueling receptacle is located on top of the left-wing root. So, in an F-15 you don’t line up directly behind the boom. You line up about 3 feet to the right of the boom. Once cleared into the contact position, you accelerate slightly and ideally the end of the boom passes about three feet to the left of your head. You don’t watch the boom as you close in, you watch the director lights on the fuselage. When the F-15 is far enough forward, the boom operator extends the boom into the refueling receptacle. If everything is perfect, the F-15 pilot can see the green apple just above and to his left. The receptacle is opened with a toggle switch on the instrument panel which also tells the airplane to configure the fuel tanks for refueling instead of normal engine feed. A computer in the airplane decides which of four tanks in the airplane gets the gas.

Scott moved in quickly and was taking on his fuel load. I was thinking about the mission and watching the time. I wanted to be sure that we hit the entry point to the range at precisely the right time since it was our job to kick-off the exercise. The entry point was a break in a small ridge of mountains known as student gap. It was easily identifiable, and I had flown past it many times.

I planned to deploy my formation into a combat spread just as we approached student gap. Our combat spread formation would put Dave about two to three miles line abreast of my jet on the right side. Scott and Randy would normally fly another mile or two outboard of their respective leaders, but they were free to move on either side of us as they needed to. It was called a four-ship Wall of Eagles and it was a highly aggressive formation. All four of us were far enough away from the others so that we could easily operate and control our radars without being concerned about colliding into each other. All four of us were able to find and attack targets, semi-autonomously but, we were still close enough so that we could quickly come to anyone’s defense if that became necessary. If we had to engage multiple targets at the same time, it would be my responsibility to sort out the bandits² and delegate who would attack whom. My stress level was pretty low.

The quiet was broken by a radio call.

Fazer 41, this is 42, my left engine fire warning light just came on.

My mind instantly began to race. At that moment, Scott was connected to a 150,000 lb. flying gas tank and his airplane might just be on fire. I had visions of Scott’s airplane turning into a fireball and taking the tanker and the three of us with it. I looked at his airplane carefully and I didn’t see any smoke. I knew that most firelights are simply from hot air going somewhere that it shouldn’t but there was no way to be sure. All of this took about half a second.

Fazer 42, breakaway, breakaway, breakaway! I tried to be sure that I didn’t sound as panicked as I felt but I’m not certain if I succeeded.

Scott’s airplane immediately disconnected from the tanker and within seconds was a hundred yards or so behind the tanker. Instantly, upon hearing the breakaway call, the tanker pilots shoved their throttles forward and disconnected the boom. It took a few seconds for the tanker’s engines to spool up but, within a short time, the big tanker was speeding away from us. Dave and Randy stayed with the tanker. I dropped back with Scott.

I switched my radio to transmit on Guard.

This is Fazer 41 on guard! I’m declaring an emergency for Fazer 42. Fazer 42 is an F-15C with a possible engine fire. We are presently 20 miles south of student gap at Flight Level two-six-zero. We are diverting into Groom Lake for landing. Scott, turn left, descend to 10,000 and head for the Box, you have the lead on the right. Fazer 43, take over for me. See you at home!

---

1At this time, there were no female fighter pilots in the US Air Force.

2 An unidentified target is called a Bogey. It may be friendly or hostile. Once a target has been verified to be hostile, it is referred to as a Bandit.

Wasteland

Just that quickly we were separated from the tanker and the rest of the flight. We had two identical UHF radios in the F-15 at that time. We used the number one radio for most of our normal communications with ATC. The number two radio was tuned to our squadron discrete frequency so that we could talk intra-flight without being heard by everyone else. I switched my comm button so that I would transmit only on the number two radio.

Fazer 42, this is four-one on radio two, do you read?

Fazer 42 has you loud and clear on radio 2.

Okay, Scott, is the fire light still on? I forced myself to speak slowly and distinctly. I was trying hard to sound calm, hoping that it would help to keep Scott calm too. I didn’t want to sound as anxious as he did.

Yes, it flashed once but it’s on steady now,

Okay, pull the left throttle to idle, does the light stay on?

It’s in idle. It flashed momentarily but it’s on steady now.

Okay, let’s accomplish the boldface for engine fire (left). Ensure that the left throttle is in idle.

It is.

Okay, is the fire light still on?

Yes.

Well, it’s been at least 5 seconds so let’s go ahead and shut it down. Be very sure that you shut down the, um, correct engine! I caught myself before I said ‘right’ engine."

Okay, it’s pressed, and the light went out.

"Good, let’s secure the left engine. Take the LEFT throttle and move it to cut-off. Be sure that you only cut off the left engine.

As we flew side by side, we were only thirty or forty feet away from each other, but it might as well have been thirty or forty miles because I couldn’t see what was going on in his cockpit and I certainly couldn’t get in there to help him. I was paranoid about being sure that Scott didn’t inadvertently shut off the wrong engine. Once the button is pushed, it effectively isolates and shuts down the engine and it can’t be undone in flight. It was like dropping the F-bomb in front of your mother. Once you’ve said it, you can’t take it back.

Scott was very competent and most likely would have been quite able to handle it himself, but this is a highly stressful situation. Highly competent pilots can still make mistakes when they are under great stress.

The left engine is cut-off," Scott radioed.

Is the fire light still off, I asked?

Yes.

The next question is, did the light go out because the fire is out, or is the light off because the system has been completely destroyed by the fire? The odds were good that the fire was out, but it was still possible that the fire had caused severe damage to the system. In an effort to simplify the operating systems on the F-15, most of the systems operated automatically. This allowed the pilot time to concentrate on flying the airplane, operating the radar and employing the weaponry. So, there was no manual way to test if the fire system was still functional for the left engine. The one for the right engine should still be fully functional.

As Scott concentrated on flying his airplane to the nearest runway, I was moving my aircraft below and behind him looking intently for any sign of fire. I got as close to his aircraft as I dared but I didn’t see anything amiss.

Fazer 42, what’s your fuel state, I asked on the radio? I asked the question, but I already knew the answer. Scott’s jet had a full load of gas, and we would be landing in less than 15 minutes.

Okay 42, why don’t we dump some of that before we land.

Scott acknowledged and within a few seconds a heavy white mist of fuel was pouring out of the fuel dump masts on both wingtips of his airplane. I made sure that I was out from behind his jet before he started dumping. It looked like white smoke trailing behind his aircraft, as if we were putting on an airshow. It was impressive looking and at night it could be a dazzling display. If Scott had selected afterburner on his good engine, the 14 feet of flames extending out behind the jet could ignite the fuel vapor. It was not visible in daylight but at night it could be truly spectacular. It created a huge white glowing ball behind the airplane. Since the fuel had to vaporize before it ignited, the aircraft was moving too fast to be endangered by it. I’m certain that one or two UFO sightings back at our home station in Virginia, were attributable to such an occurrence.

As we raced toward the landing strip at Groom Lake, I had a second or two to reflect on our situation. Even though we had been told that it was allowable to land inside the Box in an emergency, I was certain that it still would receive some scrutiny from my commanders and from their commanders. The higher echelons of the Air Force command structure spent far more of their time collecting advanced college degrees than they did actually flying airplanes or fighting wars. From the comfort of their padded reclining chairs, in their air-conditioned offices, they always seemed to know what we should have done in any given situation. Any time that an abnormal situation occurred, our actions were certain to be critiqued. Most of the highest placed officers were far more concerned about how our decisions would affect their chances for advancement rather than our well-being.

Years before, during my many missions on the Red Flag range I had encountered a similar occurrence. I was flying the A-37, a small, twin-engine fighter-bomber at that time. Fox Mike was my wingman. His real name was Mike Fox, but we called him Fox-Mike because that was the phonetic pronunciation of the FM radio that we used to communicate with Army units. We had just flown through Student Gap on our way to control some strike missions. We were moving low and fast over the plateau between Student Gap on the east and Belted Peak on the west. Our route would take us just to the north of the Box.

The Terrain is an incredibly dry desert with sparse, low vegetation. The plant growth is stunted by an extreme lack of water and to a pilot in a speeding jet aircraft, it can appear that the plane is flying higher than it actually is. More than one pilot has smacked into the ground on this desert floor because they mistakenly assumed that they were safely above the surrounding terrain when they were not.

Most of Our attention was directed at navigating to our assigned area and watching for threat aircraft while trying to stay as low as possible to avoid being detected on radar. We had to stay very low because there were no terrain features over the plateau to use as masking.

As we raced along, one of the engine low oil quantity lights in my airplane came on. I told Mike what had happened, and we both climbed to get away from the ground so that we could handle the problem. Eventually, the oil pressure in my malfunctioning engine went to zero and I shut down the engine. In the A-37 it really wasn’t that bad being single-engine since the airplane had a great deal of thrust to begin with. In fact, at that time, we were the only airplane in the entire Air Force inventory that was allowed to routinely shut-down an engine to save gas³. Still, it was considered an emergency if one of the engines failed on its own. So, I declared an emergency. We flew the long way back to Nellis, around the Box and landed. When we got into the chocks back at Nellis, Fox Mike came over to my airplane and said, Damn, we could have landed in the Box!

The thought had never occurred to me. The runway at Groom Lake was only a few miles away when I shut down the engine, but the situation didn’t seem to be bad enough to warrant an incursion into the dreaded Box. As I told the story to my Squadron Commander, later that same day, I jokingly said that I wondered, for just a second, if we should take-off again and land in the Box this time. He became very irate and said that I shouldn’t even joke about something like that. The fact that I had flown the long way back to Nellis on one engine was proof that the problem did not warrant the breach of security that would have occurred if we had landed at Groom Lake.

Scott’s problem was far more time critical. A fire on an airplane can spread catastrophically fast and destroy an airplane within minutes. It seemed unlikely that Scott’s plane was actually on fire since I didn’t see any smoke and nothing in