Many years ago, a movie called Fate Is the Hunter followed the disastrous flight of an aircraft with several issues that caused the plane’s demise.
When all was said and done, a series of unforeseen mishaps that the pilot had no control over, took down the plane and cost many lives.
Lockheed test pilot Henry C. Bosserman woke up on the morning of Feb. 6, 1958, at his house in Littlerock, Calif., and got ready for another day of Lockheed flight testing at Palmdale’s Plant 42 facility. He was doing acceptance checks of the new Lockheed F-104 Starfighter.
As the morning would playout, fate would indeed be the hunter. As most all test pilots know, no matter how many times you fly a plane, there is no such thing as a routine flight. Especially in a new cutting-edge fighter plane with a radical new design fresh off the production line.
Bosserman rose to the rank of major, and had a stellar career flying combat in World War II in Europe, and then as a pilot in the air defense command stateside at the beginning of the Cold War. He had hours of flight experience, and it carried over to his post-military career when he became a test pilot for Lockheed.
But as fate would have it, he didn’t know what was waiting off the west end of the Plant 42 runway. When he lit the afterburner and started his roll towards his test hop that morning, what should have been just another check-out of a new jet became much more.
It was eight o’clock as the school kids gathered at the local bus stop over on M-8 and 27th street west. They were expecting just another school day, like those who lived in the area, but as minutes passed, they came closer to a moment that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Bosserman, at full afterburner, made the crossing of what we now call BJ’s Corner at Sierra Highway and Avenue N in Palmdale, Calif., and began his climb to altitude. When the gremlins that can follow a pilot in a new plane showed up, the seasoned pilot suddenly faced warning lights and alarms in his cockpit.
Bosserman’s sleek fighter suffered a flame-out with a loud bang, and gave the pilot just seconds to evaluate his craft and make hard decisions.
Witnesses gave many different accounts of what they saw or heard when the roar of the engine suddenly gave a loud bang, and a ball of fire had them thinking that the plane had blown up. But with all the speed, the intact airframe came out of the smoke and it was a hurtling jet clawing at the sky to still fly.
Back at the bus stop, those kids, and the small community back then that were in what we now call White Fence Farms — a rural setting of ranches and farms — had the silence of the morning erupt into a calamity that today we would have a hard time imagining.
As pilot Bosserman crossed over 10th Street West, the open field below him and the last second of flight had him pull the levers and ejected from the stricken aircraft. Near what would be about 16th West and Avenue N-4, which is just desert today, the newspapers reported that he was seen hitting the ground at a high rate of speed. His parachute not having time to deploy, killed him when he hit the desert, and fate caught up with him when the conditions were too difficult and too swift to overcome.
As the kids at the bus stop doing what kids do, suddenly the daily routine of going to school became secondary as an unknown object came hurtling out of the sky. Fate would intervene again as the out-of-control jet aircraft, less its pilot, managed to punch a hole in the ground in the neighborhood and miraculously not injure one person. Several people told of hearing materials hit their houses, and one woman managed to witness the last moment of the plane out of her living room window.
Over at the bus stop, traumatized kids had no idea what had just happened in front of them. The event happened so fast, that few had any clue it was an airplane that had just barely missed them. As people ran outside and parents rushed to the site and bus stop, it became apparent with hugs and shouts of “Oh my god; you’re safe,” what could have happened if fate had waivered a bit one way or another.
The crash had just become an event that would be shared with future family members and friends as the story of when the plane fell from the sky and by some miracle, nobody was killed.
Henry Bosserman’s wife and young son would suffer the notification, and what was just another February day, became a day they would carry in their hearts for the rest of their lives. Many times over Europe in World War II, Bosserman tempted fate as a combat pilot flying dangerous missions that at any time could have ended in catastrophe, but fate would put all that off till one day on an early morning in a peaceful Palmdale, the hunter found its way into the cockpit of that brand-new Starfighter and rolled the dice that came up snake eyes stunning a community, and all who worked with him and called him husband father and friend.
Lest we forget those we have lost, and may we never forget them, we should understand better than anyone that the hunter is and always will be looking over our shoulders in every aspect of our lives.
Until next time, Bob out …