team was called to safely remove the weapon. The crew was just departing the area as the team arrived. The chief sent
one of his men to open the big bomb bay doors with the cables in the aft wheel well. As they swung open, he lit his flashlight
and ducked under the doors to inspect the bomb.
He walked to the back of the bomb bay and lifted his flash to look at the weapon. His light stopped, though, on an object
hanging from the catwalk above the bomb bay. As he moved closer for a better look he realized it was a booted foot. He raised
the light to find a leg then a torso in a flight suit. He stood with his mouth open in confusion. Suddenly the figure leaned
into the light. The head was missing.
The crew chief dropped his light and ran. He forgot that he was under a bomber. He tripped on an object on the ground. He
just had time to see what he had tripped on before his head connected with the bomb bay door. It was a helmet, in a helmet
bag.
The unconscious crew chief was taken to the hospital. His injuries were judged minor until he came around and started to babble
about the headless lieutenant. The doctors decided to reconsider the seriousness of his injury.
In the meantime the stories about the haunted revetment started to gain ground. After a while the rumored occurrences got
to be so numerous that no one wanted to work there. Even air crews were starting to refuse to park there. It came to a head
when a load crew pulled up to a bomber with a load of Mark 82 five-hundred-pound bombs to load. As the truck slowed to halt
the bomb doors suddenly slammed shut.
The crew didn’t even stop the truck. They just returned to the hangar and refused to go near the aircraft until it was moved
from Charlie Fifty-four. No other crew could be found who would take the job, either.
It is the position of the Air Force that things such as ghosts and goblins do not exist. They have no basis in fact and are,
therefore, not officially recognized. It is also a fact that from that day on, even with the ramp as crowded as it was, the
Air Force never again used Charlie Fifty-four as a parking space for a B-52.
After that the stories of the headless lieutenant quieted down, at least in number. But the revetment continued to cause troubles.
Numerous times a helmet bag was noticed sitting in the empty parking space. No one ever went to retrieve it, though. And many
supervisors of flying were sent out to turn off the lights in the revetment. No one had turned them on but they were burning
brightly. And usually the officer would drive all the way to the back wall, turn off the switch, and then see the lights come
on by themselves as he drove away.
Whatever the truth of the matter is, the Air Force still does not believe in ghosts. But it doesn’t believe in a revetment
called Charlie Fifty-four anymore either.
THE SIMULATED SPIRIT
A simulator is a great place to learn about flying and about the intricacies of modern aircraft. After twenty years of flying
on B-52s, I actually learned more about the old “Buff” by teaching in the simulator. But I never in my wildest imaginings
dreamed that I’d learn something about the supernatural from this electronic marvel.
Some environments are the exact opposite of what is usually required for a haunting. They are too modern, too sterile, too
new, for any self-respecting spirit to call home. Scientific and technical, they appear to be almost ghost-proof.
That is certainly the case with the Weapons System Trainer at Minot Air Force Base. It is a marvelously conceived flight simulator
for the training of B-52H crew members. Modern and advanced, it is the total antithesis of anything supernatural.
Many years ago the Air Force learned the value of demonstration in instruction. It’s much easier to get a lesson across by
showing than by telling. It was a lesson that applied especially to aviation. Showing was the best way to teach fledgling
pilots. But
Pittacus Lore, James Frey, Jobie Hughes