A Short Story By:
I was on duty at the 602nd TCS, Det A, a small radar unit remotely
located on the Czech border near Hof, Germany when the
of the Airlift passed onto our watch. In a moment, our priority
changed from "the other" to "our own".Approximately a year later,
I helped guide the last of a seemingly endless stream of dots
destination in the Northeast.
One memorable rainy night remains a half century later. One
fragile specks of light veered sharply toward a line on
marking the edge of the air corridor. The aberration was not
by the pack of Migs that periodically swarmed out of Leipzig.
converged before we could scramble our own fighter planes to
scene. The words "Mayday... Mayday" were recited through our
more, it seemed, in disappointment than anxiety. Then the dot
from the scope.
The next day we went out to the crash site by
jeep. Parachutes reassuringly draped a rainsoaked field
The crew had survived.