Rough Men

Khasa, Tibet - photo by JoAnn Sturman

by Scott Sturman

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. --George Orwell

After reading S.R. Oberst's tale of his and Marty's altercation in Acacia Park in 1970, it brought to mind the next summer, which I spent with Marty at the Test Pilot School.  He was one of those rough men of whom Orwell speaks–difficult to understand, but without them we would know no peace.
 
“Welcome to the Mojave Desert and the United States Air Force Test Pilot School, gentlemen.  We hope you enjoy the experience and have the opportunity to fly in many of our aircraft,” said Colonel Buzz Aldrin, former astronaut and now Commandant of the school.

The pilots assigned to the test pilot program were among the best in the Air Force.  They flew experimental airplanes or traditional aircraft that were uniquely configured for specialized missions.  As cadets we were temporarily stationed at the base to interact with as many operational units as possible.

The first unit we visited conducted low level night flights in the B-57.  Our officer sponsor, Captain Dave Diefenbach, a 29 year old class of 1964 Air Force Academy graduate, was a terrific pilot, a great guy, and about the best in anything he tried.  All too often cadets were treated like an annoyance by their officer sponsors, but Dave was different.  He patiently explained the missions thoroughly and treated us more like peers.  He even invited my friend Marty and me to his home for dinner with his wife.  He was a natural leader and role model.

On the third day assigned to the squadron Marty and I reported for the morning flight briefing.  The squadron commander stood behind the podium and announced, “Last night Captain Diefenbach and his crew were killed when their B-57 flew into a mountain side while conducting tactical operations.  The cause of the crash is being investigated. Now for today's missions...”

That was all he said.  The pilots resumed their duties, and although they must have felt a sense of loss, they carried on as if nothing happened.  Many were combat veterans and accustomed to a job which involved great risk.   Marty and I, on the other hand, were naive and ill at ease with death unannounced.  Although we knew Captain Diefenbach for only a few days, we felt a profound sense of loss and misinterpreted the pilots' professionalism as callousness.   His death showed Marty and me that even in peacetime flying is serious business, and despite the risk, pilots must be able to compartmentalize events that interfered with mission success.

Marty was an Air Force Academy cadet but longed to be a Marine officer.   He wanted to experience close quarter combat and often expressed his concern that the Vietnam War would end before he could be trained and deployed.   He was powerfully built and perceived himself as indestructible, which I firmly believed.  The previous summer he earned his parachute rating at Fort Benning, Georgia. 

Evenings after work at the Test Pilot School he would put on his fatigue trousers and a skin tight USAFA white T-shirt with blue trim and ask me to help him practice his parachute landing falls (PLFs), a technique used to avoid injury when parachuting onto hard surfaces.  The feet hit the ground with the knees slightly bent, and one's body absorbs the energy from the impact by collapsing and rolling to the ground.  I drove Marty's van on a dirt road at 25 miles per hour, and while standing in the back near the sliding side door he would tell me to adjust the speed depending on how impervious he felt that day.  When I said “jump,” he threw himself out of the vehicle and onto the concrete hard Mojave, where he performed the PLF.   He practiced this stunt throughout the summer and with the exception of a few scratches on his massive arms was never injured.

The most memorable experience of the summer involved collecting aeronautical data for the conceptual stage of the Space Shuttle program.  In 1971 all United States manned space craft were Apollo modules which landed by parachute in the ocean after reentry from space.  At that time NASA and the Air Force were working together to devise a space vehicle which could land on a runway without the use of a parachute.  The problem involved designing a space craft which could withstand the thermodynamics of reentry, yet have a suitable lift and drag profile to land like a conventional airplane.  The operational aircraft most closely suited to the low lift, high velocity, short wing Space Shuttle was the F-104 Starfighter with its stubby wings and cylindrical fuselage.

The question confronting the engineers was whether a powerless shuttle could trade kinetic and potential energies to safely land at a predetermined location.  The F-104 was used as a prototype to simulate the landing phase of the shuttle.  The mission profile required the test pilot to fly the F-104 to 50,000 feet above the airfield at Edwards Air Force Base, idle the engine, and point the nose in a near vertical angle to the runway below.  As the aircraft approached the ground the pilot pulled back on the control stick to slow the rate of descent and place the aircraft into a position to make a power off landing.  Prior to contacting the ground the pilot throttled the engine to full power and directed the F-104 skyward to repeat the maneuver.

We sat in the co-pilot's seat immediately behind the pilot and recorded flight data on each practice approach to the runway.  Writing on a notebook pad with a pencil, we listed the airspeed, altitude, temperature, weight, and angle of attack of the fighter every minute during the test.  At day's end the information was taken to the base computer center where the data was punched on cards and fed into what was at that time a world class computer.  The computer filled two large trailers, but its computation power was probably less that what one can buy on sale at Best Buy. 

From flying unusual missions with some of the Air Force's best pilots, helping Marty practice his PLFs, and learning to cope with the death of a great man, it was a summer few college age students experience.  Most go about their lives and take freedom for granted, unaware Orwell's rough men and women make it possible.