It all began on a cool spring night of March the 20th, and nineteen eighty two. Col. Darrell Holt and I, Col. Leslie Bond, met over at commander Larsons house for our monthly Confederate Airforce meeting. The meeting went on in its usual pace with its share of temporary excitement, and its intermittent share of boredom. Time pressed on in the meeting, and the sun had long since slid down beyond the darkened orange horizon. The meeting had lasted usually longer than normal for reason unknown. It might have lasted longer because of the approaching coastal weather had diminished rapidly, with only a gloomy look outside to remain.
The meeting finally seemed to approach the end, and soon we would be able to go home for the night, or wait the storm out in which was brewing outside along the coast of Florida. Since we all decided to stay for a while, someone decided to turn the television on for the latest weather update. The tv set was tuned into a special news report instead, in which reported a strange sighting from a large freighter about four hundred and ninety nautical miles southeast of the coastal tip of Florida. The Captain aboard the ship radioed in to the Coast Guard, and he reported that they encountered a bright red illumination, or an electric phenomena in the skies not to far from them, and that the identity was surely unknown to anyone.
This was not the first time that this sighting had been reported from someone in this area. As the news continued we were all sad to hear that the ship and its crew were reported to be missing just a few hours after their last reported position. The last report heard from the captain was a Mayday call, and that something was pulling the ship in.
Later on their were other reports that this mysterious illumination could be seen for miles, and miles over the darkened seas. The question still remained as to what it was, and why the ship was still missing along with the whole crew and Captain. All that we could gather, so far as to what happened to them was that they may have hit something in the water below their water line, or maybe something had struck her hard, and caused her to start bring on water real fast, but what exactly happened, well no one knew that, and it was a great mystery to all of us. According to some fisherman which were about one hundred miles away from the ship in distress, they said that they seen a glow in the sky that resembled the phenomena know as the northern lights, yet it was reddish in color. When the witnesses seen the lights in the sky, they nick named it, "The Fangs of Fire", in which they said that it was a good name for it, as it described it fairly close. The special news report ended, and the room was silent for a moment after the television was turned off the air.
The weather outside finally cleared up enough for us to safely drive home, so all of us headed home for a good nights rest. Their wasn’t to much said as everyone began filing out of the house to get in their cars, probably because of the mysterious report that everyone had just heard on the news report. Some were probably just to tired to think about it anymore, while others walked out the door and couldn’t seem to get their minds off of it, as if they had just seen a ghost or something. One thing for sure was that commander Larson had something brewing up in his head from top to bottom, and Holt and I had a hunch as to what he had planned, and we weren’t to happy or excited about it either. Then just as we suspected would happen, Com. Larson stopped all of us just before we all had a chance to get in our automobiles to get away saying;" Alright people, your not getting away as easy as you would have liked to, so let me have your attention!", exclaimed Larson.
We all turned around as if we knew exactly what to expect from his mouth.
"I’m looking for a few Volunteer air crews that might just be interested in flying a search, and rescue mission for that lost freighter in the morning, and I mean early, and ready for a takeoff by dawns early light. Are there any volunteers that think that they would be right for this mission, if so then have your airplane pre-flighted, and ready at the Caf hangars bright and early, and we’ll see if we can’t find any survivors from this lost freighter, and that’s all I have to say?" asked Larson.
A handful of us voluteered to show up for this mission, for we knew that it would be worth it all if we could find some survivors. We were also told to report any strange occurences out at sea, such as the phenomina know as, "The Fangs of Fire".
Civil Air Patrol was also notified as to the problem with the freighter out at sea, and they were to join with us Caf pilots in the morning also. Knowing that the next morning was going to come early, most of us dashed off to our cars, and headed home to catch as much shut eye as possible, before the early morning mission was to begin.
The next morning came very early with air crews lined along the flight line for preflight checks, flight planning, and a whole lot of chatter going on about what may lie ahead of us. The Cap pilots were working right along with us, side by side, for the preparation of the flight ahead.
We also had ground crews looking over the engines, the airframes of each antique airplane, for we could not afford any malfunctions over the sea. We worked hard to prepare the airplanes for the long challenging flight. Fuel tanks were topped off, the engine oil was changed on each engine for a fresh start, then the crew chiefs signed the aircraft log books to acknowledge that they were ready for flight with seemingly good confidence as to what they had done. Soon all ten of our team aircraft were ready to roll, with seven airplanes that belonged to the Caf, and three airplanes belonged to the Civil Air Patrol. After Holt and I, Leslie Bond, done a complete study of the weather forecast charts, and our navigational aides to complete the flight, we walked over to the flight service station and filed our flight plan for the route of flight. We filed direct route to the area to be searched, with a round trip return back to home base, and we sure hoped that’s the way that it would turn out to be.
It finally came time for the mission to begin. Larson, with all the rest of the air crews bowed our heads for a prayer to God for our safety, then Larson waved us on for engine start, and take-off, with a gallant salute to us, as if to wish us good luck. Holt and I came from the Caf of Texas, in which Kermit, Tx. is our home town. We had decided to move to Florida for a vacation, and to get to fly and enjoy the Florida skies for a change, but we didn’t know that our longest flight across the ocean would soon be awaiting us, but it was. This was going to be our longest flight that we had ever attempted in this type of airplane yet, since our first day of joining the west texas Caf team in Midland, at the small town known as Air Terminal. We began flying in our teenage years, and were well known as young , brave, and possibly adventure seekers, dreamers, and otherwise known as irritable Barnstormers of the west texas skies. Now it was different, the fooling around was over with, and we were proffessional pilots, and had a real challenge ahead of us, and we wern’t about to turn this one down, no way! We always loved old WW 2 airplanes, and we had the flying motto of, " If it’s old, its got to be good", and we believed in old WW 2 aircraft.
Holt and I, was in an aircraft called a B-17 Flying Fortress, in which was a bomber of the past world war. She was a