The insistent telephone finally woke CDR Shelly Bates, acting CO of VP-8, early in the morning on 26 October 1962. If he wasn't awake when he picked it up, he said later that he came to attention in his pajamas when a voice at the other end announced "this is Admiral Anderson!" (Admiral George Anderson, USN, Chief of Naval Operations, was calling VP-8 at 0200 from the basement of the White House to see if we had any of those new- fangled P-3's on the line that we could send on a special mission to Lajes in the Azores ASAP! I'm not sure what Shelly knew where Lajes was, much less could we make it. I do know that my log book says I went to Lajes on the 26th of Oct. and that it took 7.4 hours to get there. I also know that we left within a matter of hours after that phone call, because I remember eating breakfast on the airplane somewhere just past the Patuxent restricted area, east of Salisbury, MD.

We left with typical VP preparation. We had some spare parts, a couple of mechs and 'trons (electronic technicians) and enough gas "chits" to sink the Navy. When you fly from USAF facilities, you better bring money. We did NOT have any tasking, being assured that a tasking ("Green") message was on its way. We didn't eat sunset (time-change, you see) but we did beat the tasking message as well as ANY notification that we were coming - or why. The Naval Air Facility on one small corner of the USAF MAC base at Lajes was a sleepy, off-the-route stop for an occasional VR flight that couldn't overfly Lajes. It had an old Grumman UF, presumably for search and rescue, and which they all had the good sense to keep out of the water. It was down when we got there, but it was inside the little hangar and the paint job was beautiful.

I still remember the officer-in-charge, a CDR as I recall, looking up at us from the ground quizzically, while we sat in the cockpit waiting for a power cart. It should be noted that NAVAIR in their infinite wisdom, and lack of study of a thing called required operational capabilities in a projected operational environment, had failed to heed Lockheed's warning about not equipping the P-3 with an independent, stand-alone start, stop, refuel, and repair capability. This takes an auxiliary power unity (APU) which, of course, had been on the commercial Electra, and was standard fare on all commercial jet or turbine-powered aircraft. NAVAIR had the APU removed - to save money and weight. Now most large turbine engines can be started without electrical power (or just the battery) but without an awful lot of wind, you'll never get to the turbine to spin, much less going fast enough to sustain operation. Most places now have air carts/starters, which are nothing more than turbines which put out a volume of air; they spin a P-3 turbine nicely. We also had the first inertial navigation set the VP Navy had ever seen; a Litton LN-2C. We quickly learned not to EVER turn on much less try to align the Litton system when attached to the old electrical power carts, like the NC-5 in great profusion at all P-2 bases. The "dirty" power thus provided sent many a happy Litton system home to its eternal reward. Fortunately, we had a two-speed gear box for the generator on the #4 engine so we had "ship's power", even at low ground idle (about 73% engine RPM, and 80 decibels quieter.)

When we pulled up to the line at NAF Lajes, we had taxied in on two engines, and left #4 running in low ground idle until we could ascertain the availability of ground power, specifically the air cart. We finally had to get out to explain our needs. Unfortunately, the NAF only had an NC-5 electrical cart and the USAF fittings on THEIR air starters used an incompatible fitting with the P-3. We were told to shut down without it. Our P-3 had now been standing with the engine running for about 1-1/2 to 2 hours.

The engine ran all night. As a plane commander in charge of two airplanes, told by the CNO to bust tail getting to Lajes, I wasn't going to be stuck with an airplane that couldn't be started. There were two other problems; first of all, nobody knew exactly why we had come (including us). We were aware of a shipping surveillance requirement, but as for what ships, coming from where and going to where, and when last seen, were all a mystery. I finally derived myself a tasking statement - looking for ships with a red hammer and sickle flag, and on a route that approximated Europe to Cuba. I also got the idea that Bermuda was to host a lot more of the flying - to support all sorts of surveillance in support of the imaginary line we had drawn around Cuba. Baring any more word from home, we would head over to Bermuda the next day via the shipping lanes to Cuba.

That brought us head-on into the second and more serious problem; refueling. The P-3 has great endurance, but it can't go to Lajes from Patuxent River, then back to Bermuda while looking for ships, without refueling. Don't forget the #4 engine running. Even after the P-3B came out with an APU in it, and the P-3A's were all retrofitted, the USAF still had a fit about refueling P-3's. It seems that the exhaust from the APU is within smelling distance of the pressure refueling station for the aircraft. You can almost reach up and touch the exhaust door from just under the wing where the refueling panel is located. Even the USAF C-130's were not allowed to refuel with the APU running, and their APU was on the opposite side of the aircraft. But we didn't have an APU running, we had an engine, and worse yet, a propeller turning - threatening to chop off the heads of the numerous USAF safety officers who came out to inspect the situation. (The T-56 engine and associated propeller is on a single shaft, so the prop turns any time the engine is running.) It was somewhere around noon when they all went off to eat, thinking their edict of no engine running during fueling would be honored - by fuel starvation if nothing else. They made another mistake. Nobody told the fuel truck driver he couldn't deliver fuel to this idiot Navy crew. When the USAF came back, we were gone. I'm sure there is a nasty letter from the USAF guy in Lajes to the Commander of Fleet Air Wings Atlantic somewhere in the files - but I never saw it.

Another set of letters we never saw were a host of light violations filed by ICAO, the international version of FAA, because of the way we had to operate our P-3s. I suspect I was first on that list, too, since it seemed I was always doing something that somebody outside the Navy didn't like. I neatly rationalized this bit of chicanery by convincing myself and everybody else that it was an "operational necessity". Which, indeed, most of the time it was. (I did say most of the time.) LT Hank Peacock was not as lucky (or smart). He did a tower flyby at Kindley one day after a successful surveillance flight, but it was on a day when the USAF was having a "CRS's CALL" at the Officer's Club. (The meeting was a once-monthly affair that approximated a Navy department heads meeting at a higher level. It was hosted by the base commander with all of the units represented.) The O Club at Kindley was situated on a 400 foot hill just adjacent and parallel to the runway. When Hank went by, the only portion of the aircraft the collected officers could see was the TOP of his P-3; those farther back in the room could only see the tip of the vertical stabilizer whizzing by - like a large shark. Hank was subsequently kicked off the island, and VP-8 was informed that he was not to come back.

Our oceanic clearance problem was caused by a unique capability possessed by turbo-props; they can operate at low altitudes and low airspeeds for hours because of the efficiency of the propeller. This is the regime of ASW, shipping surveillance, anti-surface warfare, mining, and most all of the VP missions. But when it's time to transit, the turbine engine allows for (in fact loves the cold, dense air of higher altitudes) true air speeds competitive with many of the early jets. The problem was, this was not covered by any established clearance procedures. Because there were no radio navigation aids, every few miles like there are over land masses, no "uncontrolled" operations were allowed unless you were below the floor of oceanic control; usually 5,500 feet. Operating below the floor was no problem; we flew for hours, sometimes only to have to come up to 1,000 feet in the landing pattern. However, these flights called for transits in the 20,000 - 15,000 foot range to realize the full capability of the P-3. Getting up and down became a "game". I sometimes had almost finished a low-level flight at a place hundreds of miles from where I was reporting my position when I received clearance to descend. Many times I was almost home, booming along at 25 grand when I got a clearance to climb through the floor of the control area. We got pretty good at timing our "climbs" and "descents", keeping a double "set of books" as it were, so that we didn't get up or down too fast. But, sometimes an unwary junior pilot or radio operator would get on the line and report the truth, or worse, our positions would jump too far for anything but a mach 2 Concorde. Now I want to also state that our operating in this manner never jeopardized anybody. We could almost always find a hole in the clouds to descend. In any case, we were monitoring commercial traffic radar identification codes and radio traffic. The only time I was ever surprised by an aircraft I didn't know was the next year in the Norwegian Sea with the Brits flying their Lancasters. They never told anybody what they were doing. As I said, I never saw any of the flight violations - and I know there were many.

After we started flying from Bermuda, the pace picked up immediately. I flew almost 130 hours in October and again in November, providing that essential intelligence picture to our Navy seniors. We were not only confirming the continued transit of large amounts of military equipment, but eventually began spotting and following portions of the Soviet Fleet, which were positioning themselves for the shooting war that was threatened. Tensions were extremely high, and we carried live ordnance in the event of wartime tasking.

Bermuda was no sleepy Naval Air Facility, and was, in fact, the home of numerous USAF squadrons, some of which were flying C-130s. The facility at Bermuda was named Kindley Air Force Base, and true to form, the Navy only got what was left over. The weather detachment did provide excellent support and the Air Force chow was usually good. Maintenance is what suffered the most. There were no full-size hangars, so any work that needed to be done out of the elements was done in a nose dock, a shortened hangar made from a small one with holes cut in it for the tail to stick out. And elements there were. Many people equate Bermuda with Hawaii; our winter experience was daily winds of hurricane force (60-70 knots the norm) with torrential rain that soaked through a flight suit and jacket in a matter of seconds. The winds weren't even kind enough to blow down the one runway that Bermuda had, so we learned our crosswinds limits (and landing techniques!) very quickly. In addition, the closest alternate airfield was in the states, two hours or more to the west, depending on the headwind. When the crosswing got past our limits (35 knots 90 degrees to the runway was published; I know you can beat that) we even had people landing on an old parking and refueling apron which was only about 2,500' long - but with 60 knot winds on the nose, it was no sweat providing you stayed on the narrow (50-60'wide) concrete, or didn't hit one of the permanent set of pipes that constituted a fueling station. There weren't any lights on this piece either, so the night landings tended to be a little exciting. I know the USAF thought we were all nuts.

Parts at Bermuda were another problem. The Navy and Lockheed had a jointly run supply system but it was figured on flying a peace-time rate - from Pax River; neither of which was the case. We were flying in excess of the war-time rate and more than two hours away by air from home. We didn't have a lot of extra airplanes to fly the parts that were available at Pax River. Finally, the Navy told Lockheed to take the needed parts from the assembly line in Burbank; they would have to be repaid later. Consequently, two or three times a day, we would call "Lockheed LA" on the single side band radios in the P-3 (great Collins stuff) and order up the next batch of parts. These were in turn, put on the next airplane (commercial or whatever) to Bermuda. If you want to really have a lot of fun watching airplanes land, go and watch a B- 707 try to land in any kind of crosswing. Hysterical!

The flight I flew on the 10th of November provided the first positive proof that Russia was indeed withdrawing their missiles from Cuba. That flight remains one of the strongest memories I have of some 29 years in the Navy.

VP-8 and specifically Creighton Cook deserves the credit for smoothing so many of the wrinkles. He got New York Oceanic control people to sit down with us and help solve the problem of operational clearances. Some of these procedures remain in effect today, and indeed, have been the model for other oceanic areas. He also got NAVAIR to issue a waiver for overweight operations. Ultimately, I believe that it was VP-8 which showed the Navy just what a fantastic capability the P-3 represented. It literally sailed budgets through Congress for years based on the Cuban Missile Crisis experience. Two of the major lessons learned were modifications added to the airframe almost before the last missile left Cuba; an APU and higher weight operations/more powerful engines appeared in the P-3B, and the APU was retrofit into every P-3 built.

"VP-8 Alumni Association"

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