671 killed in action, 116 other deaths, 2,172 wounded. 7,920 sick in action.At 1031, 8 April 1950, a dark blue U.S. Navy “Privateer” patrol plane thundered aloft from the asphalt north runway of Wiesbaden airfield near Frankfort, Germany. Destination—Copenhagen, Denmark. Mission—a patrol and meteorological flight over the Baltic.
At 1301, a radio report came back from the plane. “We are crossing the coastline now” the message said. The plane never landed at Copenhagen.
On the 11th of April, as the mystery of-the missing Privateer began to deepen, the Soviet Government reported an incident over the Baltic between four of their planes and, allegedly, an American B-29, and seized the offensive in a diplomatic battle which was to make the cold war temporarily hot.
While verbal brickbats were flying, the first tangible clue to the ill-fated patrol plane came in.
On 16th of April, some 80 miles southeast of Stockholm, Sweden, the 1813-ton British freighter Beechland, eastbound in ballast from London to the Finnish port of Kotka, found in the sea a yellow raft with U.S. Navy markings. Captain John Henderson, Master of the Beechland, observed that it was partially inflated and noted it to be in fairly good condition. No occupants were aboard. Nothing indicated that the raft had ever been occupied.
Five days later a second U.S. Navy life raft was found. A small Swedish fishing vessel, the Hillade, trawling some 60 miles off the Latvian coast, ran close aboard a suspicious object. An unfamiliar flash of yellow brought the trawler about. Barely afloat, still folded, and blue-bottom up, the raft was hauled aboard. Unlike the first, this raft was not inflated.
Four days later, another Swedish vessel, 52 miles off the Latvian port of Libau, while fishing for salmon, found the third and final clue floating in the ocean. A nose wheel assembly was fished up. On the main strut of the assembly was a metal identification tag stamped “PB4Y-2.” The evidence was in.
Were these rafts and this wheel part of the missing plane? The Navy said positively and emphatically yes. In the first place, there could be no doubt that the rafts and the wheel were Navy property. The rafts were Mark VII type “D” rafts, which meant they could carry seven men and were “droppable” from the air. The markings on the first raft bore the Navy stock number, the manufacturer’s name (Willis & Geiger, New York City) and the date of manufacture (1948) —even the manufacturer’s serial number (#862). The second raft had similar markings, except it was of more recent manufacture (1949) and had, of course, its own serial number (#2140). The nose wheel assembly was prominently marked with a metal tag indicating that it had been overhauled at NAS Corpus Christi, Texas in 1944.
PB4Y-2 patrol planes carry two rafts in dorsal cradles located in the upper part of the fuselage above the wings. Each raft has an access door which may be opened in two ways—manually from the outside, or by a long distance manual release from inside the airplane. Each raft is stowed in a folded condition with a carbon dioxide bottle in the middle. The plane’s gasoline tanks are directly below the rafts.
In early installations of these rafts aboard Privateers, several cases of inadvertent inflation occurred. Motion of the plane, bumps of the landing, or sudden, tight turns would occasionally result in the valve mechanism of the CO2 bottle being gradually operated, permitting the puncturing needle to pierce the seal and allow the gas to escape and inflate the raft. In flight, this was often an embarrassing, even dangerous, mishap. The raft would belly out with a hiss, pop open its door, blow aft in the slipstream, and hang up on the huge tail of the plane. Reduction or even loss of rudder control often resulted.
To prevent such accidents, the Bureau of Aeronautics ordered a modification made to these rafts. Briefly, this change consisted in removing the wide plate at the top of the valve, and in making a direct connection between the operating cable and the opening mechanism inside the valve. This particular modification was made only to 7-man rafts carried by PB4Y2 aircraft. No other aircraft in the world, military or commercial, Navy or Air Force, carried this type of life raft with this exact alteration. Since General Vandenburg, Chief of Staff of our Air Force, had issued a statement that no B-29 airplanes were in the Baltic on the day in question, and in fact that no B-29’s were missing, it was simple deduction that the two Navy rafts were aboard the ill-fated Privateer.
But even more positive evidence than this was available. A Bureau of Aeronautics Technical Order #12-47 requires that a Commanding Officer of an aircraft squadron inspect life rafts every ninety days. This inspection, performed and recorded by the parachute riggers in every squadron, requires many things—for example, the raft is inflated, all exposed metal parts are inspected for corrosion, the raft fabric is inspected for deterioration. The manifold is given a soapy-water leakage test. Each raft is given a twenty-four hour test to see if it will hold its air. A new bottle is installed. Accordingly, the riggers get to know the twenty or thirty rafts in their squadron individually—changing a rubber manifold, making a patch here or there, modifying the raft bottle, talcing, tagging, folding, restowing, keeping the records. Rafts get to be as familiar as old friends. Thus, the enlisted men of Patrol Squadron Twenty-Six were able to spot their own rafts. One of them identified the two patches near the bow of the raft as his own handiwork.
As for the condition of the rafts, the evidence was again eloquent. The misshappen hardware on the CO2 bottle, the folded condition of one raft, the type and area of the burned portion, were indicative of high impact force—either a violent and fiery explosion followed by disintegration in the air or upon impact with the sea. The folded raft was burned in only one area. The two-ply section of this locality was completely burned through, whereas the reinforced many-ply sections were not. The conclusion, therefore, was that the plane was on fire, that the fire was of great intensity and of short duration (probably about a minute), and that the fire was suddenly quenched.
The nose wheel’s condition substantiated most of these conclusions and added a few of its own. Bureau of Aeronautic experts and investigators of the Civil Aeronautics Board concluded that the structure definitely indicated a violent, out-of-control crash into the sea. The hydraulic actuating cylinder for lowering and retracting the nose wheel was itself retracted. Furthermore, the front drag link of the retracting gear was jammed in a position which showed the wheel to have been folded. Thus, it was evident that the explosion occurred with the landing gear up. In any event, had the pilot been attempting a ditching, his wheels would have been up and an intentional water landing from a level attitude would have been much less severe. In short, a landing because of other trouble is discounted, and only a violent, disintegrating explosion could explain the complete severance of the nose wheel from the remainder of the plane. The “V” strut of the assembly was bent and severed in such a manner as to indicate severe shearing forces, such as might happen if the plane had been spinning when it crashed. Furthermore, the magnesium wheel hub was pitted from the electrolytic action of the salt water acting between this metal and the steel components of the assembly. The positive buoyancy of the large tube in the tire (found undamaged and fully inflated to sixty-five p.s.i.) was sufficient to keep the 380 pound structure afloat.
This material evidence, when analyzed and rounded out by the revelations contained in the original Soviet note, leaves little doubt of the fate of the plane or of the motives of the men who ordered it destroyed.
“The Government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics deems it necessary to state to the Government of the United States the following:
“According to verified data, on 8 April of this year, at 17 hours and 39 minutes (5:39 Moscow time: this would be 2:39 p.m. in relation to the plane’s take-off time) south of Libau, Latvia, a four engined military plane of the B-29 type bearing American identification marks was sighted. The plane penetrated the territory of the Soviet Union to a distance of 21 kilometers (thirteen miles).
“Owing to the fact that the American plane continued to penetrate into Soviet territory, a flight of Soviet fighters took off from a nearby airdrome and demanded that the American plane follow it and land at the airdrome. The American plane not only failed to comply with this demand but opened fire on the Soviet planes.
“Owing to this an advance Soviet fighter was forced to open fire in reply, after which the American plane turned toward the sea and disappeared—”
Note particularly these items of the text:
(a) the plane was “over Libau, Latvia”
(b) the plane was identified as/‘B-29 type”
(c) the plane “penetrated Soviet Territory—13 miles”
(d) the plane “opened fire”
(e) the plane “turned toward the sea and disappeared.”
While the U.S. Government was taking seven days to investigate and answer this note, the Soviet Government announced on 13 April the award of the Red Banner to four Soviet Air Force Lieutenants “for excellent fulfillment of their official duty.” Details were omitted. Wherewith the Red propaganda machines clanked into high gear, describing the “aggression” in such terms as “brigands,” “Hitlerites” and “blackguards.”
On 18 April, Admiral Alan G. Kirk, U.S. Ambassador to Russia, met Deputy Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko to deliver our protest. In summary our note identified the plane as a Navy Privateer, said that it was wholly unarmed, that it was not over Soviet or Soviet controlled territory, that it was fired upon over the open Baltic by Russian planes, and that as a result of this attack, the plane was lost.
The note concluded with four demands:
(1) that the Russians conduct a full investigation
(2) that the Russians instruct their pilots to avoid repetition
(3) that the Russians apologize
(4) that the Russians punish the pilots concerned.
Second notes were exchanged by the Soviet and U.S. Governments on 21 April and 5 May respectively. The Soviets reiterated the plane was a B-29 type and that it was over Soviet territory. Our note dismissed these statements as “not factual.” At this point the diplomatic squall ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.
Was our plane “over Libau, Latvia” The Russian charge was demonstrably untrue, or as our note said, “not factual.” In the first place, all U.S. planes in that area have standing orders to remain at least twenty miles from Soviet controlled territory. This distance is well beyond the internationally accepted limits of territorial jurisdiction. There is no indication that the pilot disobeyed these orders. Secondly, the location of the wreckage is reasonable proof that the plane could never have been over Libau, Latvia. The first raft, partly inflated, was found 134 miles from Libau, the second raft, 64 miles from Libau, the wheel 48 miles from Libau. If the position of the inflated raft is disregarded (since an inflated raft drifts rapidly with even a light wind) and if the fact is recalled that the second (submerged) raft and nose wheel were less than 20 miles apart, it seems a reasonable assumption that this latter area was the general scene of the crash. The folded raft and the heavy nose wheel would not have been affected by wind. Commander Stellen Hermelin, Chief of the Swedish Icebreaking Service, an expert on water currents in the Baltic, estimated that the wheel drifted straight northward about one nautical mile per day. This would place the scene of the crime sixty-one miles from where the Russians say it was. Why, then, was Libau, Latvia, fabricated as the point of penetration? Many recent reports have highlighted this Baltic locale as a rocket test area. The Soviets are also reported developing Libau into a major naval installation. Commercial ships are forbidden to approach it by sea. And from time to time reports have spotted important units of the Russian Baltic Fleet there. The Russians therefore reasoned that Libau was the closest and most logical destination for a snooping Navy patrol plane.
Assume for a moment, however, that an American Commander would have the audacity to ignore firm standing orders, to have the recklessness to direct such a plane as an unarmed PB4Y2 on such a dangerous mission at such a critical time, and assume that the plane did fly over Libau, Latvia. The Russians fired on it, the note says. Would it be likely for a crippled plane to limp sixty- one miles (a twenty-two minute jaunt at the cruising speed of a Privateer) then suddenly explode or dive into the ocean leaving the clues which have been found? Most PB4Y2 pilots say no; the plane would either have gotten all the way home, or it wouldn’t have gotten six miles, let alone sixty. If a reconnoitering mission was ordered over the Soviet controlled territory it would be illogical and foolish to choose an unarmed plane like the cumbersome PB4Y2. It would in fact be as senseless as directing a daylight hydrographic survey of Murmansk harbor by the battleship Missouri, and to ignore the capabilities of the submarine.
The original note identified the plane as a “B-29 type.” The Russians stuck to this convenient error despite the fact that no B-29’s were within several hundred miles of Latvia that day, and despite the fact that none were shot at and none are missing. The Russians are well acquainted with B-29’s. They captured a couple during the war, and their TU-29 bomber is a faithful copy of it. Only the most myopic layman could mistake the B-24 for a B-29. The B-24 has a 110' wingspan; the B-29’s span is 141'. The fuselage of the B-24 is seventy-five feet long while the B-29 is 99'. To four Soviet Air Force Lieutenants, the B-24 should resemble a B-29 about as much as Betty Grable resembles Gravel Gertie.
The Soviets protested that our planes penetrated “Soviet territory” thirteen miles. It should be noted that the United States does not recognize Soviet control of Latvia. Russia took over the tiny Baltic state in June of 1940. Shortly thereafter, it became a member republic of the Soviet Union. The United States has never recognized Soviet control of Latvia; in fact the State Department still maintains relations with the former Latvian legation. The additional “thirteen miles” only makes the penetration more unlikely.
The Soviet note stated our Privateer “opened fire.” Here again, their charge was “not factual” because of the simple fact that our plane was not armed. Why should it have been armed? It was not going over hostile territory, but over the open Baltic Sea. The pilot had filed a flight plan listing Copenhagen, Denmark, as his destination. On such an international flight, Denmark has always prohibited any foreign plane which was armed from landing in her territory. Furthermore, just before the plane left Wiesbaden, one of the normal crew members became ill and was left behind. Reporters talked to this petty officer and he testified that the plane was not armed.
Note also the language of the Soviet note: “The plane turned toward the sea and disappeared.” Mr. Walter Lippmann, in a column “The Baltic Affair—International” made the following cogent observations on this point.
“It is virtually certain, therefore, that the action took place over the sea and not over the land, and that Vishinsky’s original charge was untrue. The probabilities are very high that he knew it was untrue. For he would hardly have dared to say that “The American plane turned toward the sea and disappeared” if there had been any chance that the plane itself or any of its crew, have returned to the American lines and testified as to what happened.
“Either the Soviet fighters must have reported seeing the complete destruction and disappearance of the plane well outside Soviet territorial waters—or, and less probably, the plane was captured and the Soviet authorities do not wish us to know they have the secrets which possession of the plane would give them. The probabilities, however, are that they did not capture the plane and that they saw it destroyed completely. For retrieving a wrecked plane out in the open sea would be an operation hard to hide. If, on the other hand, the plane had come down in Soviet waters, the Soviet authorities could have produced some of the wreckage to prove that we acted illegally and provocatively, as capitalistic imperialists. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that Vishinsky was sure that the plane and the crew had disappeared completely out in the Baltic. Otherwise, he could not have risked our finding pieces of the wreckage or our rescuing the crew and thus proving conclusively that the plane was destroyed outside Russian territory.”
Speculate a moment on why the original Russian note was ever issued. Could they not have kept quiet and said nothing? Wouldn’t our logical conclusion upon finding the rafts and the wheel have been that the plane had suffered some mechanical trouble and crashed into the sea?
Yes, that would have been sensible synthesis and would have eliminated the diplomatic exchange which resulted. But the Russians did not choose this course for two compelling reasons: They could not be 100% positive that some explanatory message had not been sent back by that plane, or that some passing merchantman, fishing vessel, or airliner had not witnessed the encounter. In this case, the Soviets would then have found themselves condemned in the eyes of the world as the aggressor against an unarmed plane. Hence, their tactic to seize the offensive and make their charges first. The other reason was that they believed much psychological gain would result to their benefit. If the people of eastern Europe could be convinced that Soviet controlled territory was invincible, that an air-tight defense had been achieved, if American airpower could be ridiculed, if a valuable airplane could be captured, if the Americans could be branded as “aggressors,” if obstacles could be set in the way of the imminent London conference of Foreign Ministers—all these elements seemed to the Soviets worth a further rift in a deteriorating relationship.
Can all these pieces then be put together to make a respectable pattern? The writer thinks so and speculates the following sequence.- Our plane departed Wiesbaden at 1031. It reported entering the Baltic over the British zone of Germany at 1301. In mid Baltic, about 60 miles at sea at 1439, four Soviet fighters appeared. No warning was given and no orders to land were transmitted as the Soviet note alleges. The Privateer’s first warning of the attack was the chatter of 12.7 mm guns. Immediately our plane added power and dove for the surface of the water, turning westward. The fighters continued to attack. The PB4Y2’s only defense was to turn toward each run. Eventually, some bullets found their mark. The gas tanks exploded, and afire and out of control, the Privateer crashed, cart-wheeling across the sea, scattering wreckage as it disintegrated. The fire continued to burn for a few minutes in several spots across the area. The Soviet pilots circled low for many minutes looking for survivors or wreckage. None appeared.
What is the significance of this bitter incident? First of all, the cold war breach has been widened. Secondly, it is evident that a minor incident is unlikely to start the next war. Thirdly, the incident had a by-product result of drawing more closely together our Air Force and Navy. Finally, the episode is eloquent revelation of Soviet tactics. Lies and falsehood are standard tools. Seize the offensive with a bag full. Twist the tale and wring it to advantage. Prove to the world that Soviet Air Defense is capable of repelling American air power.
Radio Moscow closed the case on May 23. Pravda announced that hereafter the episode would be ignored.
