October 29th, 1992

The following introduction is for a book I am writing about my experiences as an Air Traffic Controller in the United States Air Force. Please provide any feedback on your initial thoughts. Thanks, Dave

This day was my day of infamy, much like Pearl Harbor's infamous day of December 7th, 1945, the events that unfolded this day have shaped my very being. Little did I know as I put on my battle dress fatigues that night, that I would come home the next morning a changed man. Life is an adventure, live life.
The midnight shift began as any other normal shift with a few exceptions. On this dark cloudy night, the air traffic control tower was graced by an unusual visitor. A combat controller stood at the top of the stairwell periodically talking to the commander on the complex radio he held in his right hand. His hair was short cropped like all combat controllers, high and tight, he spoke with an air of confidence that comes from being able to survive the rigorous training each combat controller must go through just to be able to wear the insignia of the Air Force's elite force.
But this night was different, he was in my territory, he was on unfamiliar ground. I confidently went about my work in preparing for a major joint task force launch scheduled to depart at 1am. This task force included every branch of the military with the United States Army taking taking command of the joint task. Just 30 minutes before the scheduled launch a PIREP better known as a pilot report came in from a Delta pilot flying his 737 across the west desert en route to the Salt Lake International Airport. The pilot reported decreasing visibility with a projected cloud ceiling of just 500 feet and lowering by the minute. The chief controller instructed to ask for any additional reports from Salt lake International Airport.
"Salt Lake Approach this is Hill Tower."
"Hill This is Salt Lake Approach say request."
Approach, requesting any additional PIREPS from out West."
The reports were the same. Decreasing visibility and high winds coming in from the west. The front that was projected to arrive around 2:30am had arrived early.
As the designated hour approached, the combat controller looked to me for clearance for the C-141, C-130, 2 Pavehawk helicopters and 2 H-53 Jolly Green Giants to depart on this joint mission to the west desert. I advised that it wouldn't be wise to continue the operation. The combat controller conveyed the message to the commander who gave the word.
"Press on"
The chief controller nodded his head.
"Clear them for take off at their own risk, we warned them!" he said emphatically
I keyed the microphone feeling that gut wrenching feel that things were about to get ugly.
"Joint Command, you are cleared for takeoff at your own risk due to decreasing visibility and weather conditions out west. Wind 270 at one-six clear for takeoff."
"Roger, cleared for take off contact departure on 127.1 have a safe flight."
The Helicopters departed one after the other from helipad 7 just below the control tower to the south and east. While the C-141 Heavy launched first causing a 3-5 minute delay for the smaller and light F-16's, F-14's and C-130 that had yet to depart. The sound of freedom went passed the tower one after the other until all the aircraft were in the air and heading for this important mission in preparation for deployment.
I sat back in my chair and relaxed for a few minutes. Fully expecting that the entourage would see the decreasing weather conditions out west and all return home at once.
"Tower this is Ranger 2"
I checked the frequency, Ranger 2 was not transmitting on the normal frequency. I reached down and keyed the emergency frequency.
"Ranger 2 this is Hill Tower."
"Tower, Ranger 1 has crashed here at the north tip of Antelope Island, requesting assistance."
"Roger Ranger 2, Ringing out the crash phone now."