In the Dark of the Night Part 3

The Devil Made Me Do It

by Steven R. Oberst 

AAA Office in Buenos Aires - photo by JoAnn Sturman

Most of the night flying I did during my career was on training missions, but my most infamous night flight and my personal favorite happened on a support mission during my first assignment. Flying in a helicopter rescue unit at a northern plains strategic missile base was seen by many pilots as a bad assignment. Although it is true the primary mission of supporting the missile wing was not particularly exciting, this assignment allowed time for a lot of great flying. It was in this northern plains environment that my fondness for night flying grew. The standard night training missions involved night navigation into the Badlands or Black Hills, landings in remote areas to spots outlined by beanbag lights, and nighttime searches. In addition, there were occasional night missions to support the missile wing.

Most missile support flights were fairly boring, flying something or somebody from point A to point B. The most boring mission of all was flying above a security convoy moving a warhead back to the main base. This involved a tractor trailer loaded with the warhead and several security escort vehicles on the ground, plus a helicopter overhead with armed security police on board. Convoy speeds were typically 25 mph on back roads, 40 mph on paved roads and 50 mph on an interstate. Needless to say, maintaining a position high above the slowly moving convoy was a tedious task.

In 1978, some genius got the idea that moving these convoys at night would provide more security due to not being as visible to the public. As much as I enjoyed night flying, this idea seemed to just move a boring mission from broad daylight to the dark of night. The thought occurred to me that this would also make it harder for us to see the bad guys, but what did I know? I was just a lowly captain.

For these nighttime convoy missions, we would fly the helicopter to the support facility closest to the warhead being moved, arriving at about 10:00 PM. After a briefing with the Convoy Commander, the helicopter crew would wait at the facility until the warhead was loaded and the convoy ready to move, typically about midnight. My first two nighttime convoy missions, although boring, went as scheduled with no problems. It was the on the third mission that things did not go so well for the missile people.

This mission came on moonless night in mid-January. There was a lot of snow on the ground, but the weather that night was clear and cold. The warhead being moved was at the farthest possible missile site from the base, very close to the Wyoming border. It was so cold, we were concerned about temperatures more than it being nighttime. When we arrived at the support facility we were told during the briefing that due to the cold, it would take longer than normal to get the warhead loaded. Sure enough, it was nearly 2:00 AM before the call came that he convoy was ready to move. Within 20 minutes we were flying overhead and waiting for the start of another boring mission. After circling for 10 minutes with no movement on the ground, we contacted the Convoy Commander on the radio. “We can’t get the doors closed on the trailer, the hydraulic system must be frozen.” He replied. After another 10 minutes, the mission was aborted.

As we turned to head home, my co-pilot, 2nd Lieutenant Mike Hotel, commented to me, “Hey, aren’t we near Devils Tower? Wonder what it looks like at night?” Hmmm I thought. I had flown by Devils Tower many times during the day, but never at night. Steven Spielberg used the location in the 1977 film Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Since then, a lot of “crazies” came to Devils Tower because they believed it was a place where aliens from outer space would someday emerge. To me it was just a neat looking piece of geography. It would only be a 15 minute detour to fly by it on the way back to the base. “Okay,” I said, “let’s swing by there and take a look see.”

It was so dark we were almost on top of Devils Tower before we saw it. We were flying at about 3,000 feet above the ground and Devils Tower is about 1,300 feet high.  I entered a rapid descent with the intent of making one complete circle around it before heading for home. On the west side of Devils Tower is a parking area where tourists parked. I don’t know what came over me, but I decided to turn on the searchlight and rotate it back and forth as we circled past this area. We had no way of knowing if anyone saw us or not. I merely turned off the light and headed for home.

The next day I heard reports on the radio that a UFO had been sighted up near Devils Tower early that morning. “Oh crap,” I thought, “I was flying the UFO.” The Base Information Office responded to callers by saying there had been no aircraft in the area. This meant there were no B-52s or KC-135s flying that night. Apparently it never occurred to the Base Information people to ask the helicopter unit if they had been flying, and neither Mike or I were about to volunteer this information. That evening the local TV news reporter interviewed Fred Ziegler  an eyewitness to the encounter at Devils Tower. “It came right out of the Tower and landed over there,” as he pointed toward an area just above them. “Then the aliens took my friend Marvin and disappeared.” Needless to say, most locals were skeptical of Fred’s claims and after a few days the story faded from view.

So, Fred, if you are reading this, it was not a UFO you saw at Devils Tower on January 17, 1979. It was me in a helicopter on a sightseeing trip in the dark. And, as to Marvin, I suspect he was so drunk that night he fell out of the back of your pick-up when you raced away from the parking area to report the UFO. I think he changed his name, went to Hollywood and became a famous movie star. Probably voted for Jimmy Carter, too.

Night flying can result in unusual encounters. That being said, I feel much better with this UFO incident off my conscience.  

Mosaic at Volubulis, Morocco - photo by JoAnn Sturman