The Flight of HOBO 28: A Cozy Catastrophe
Imagine, if you will, a B-52G Stratofortress, a titan of the skies, soaring over the frigid expanse of Greenland. It’s 1968, and this isn’t just any flight; HOBO 28 carries four Mark 28 F1 hydrogen bombs, each a potential city-eraser. The mission, a part of the Cold War’s “Chrome Dome” operations, was to keep 12 nuclear-armed bombers airborne at all times, 24 hours a day. A constant, chilling reminder of mutually assured destruction. One of those B-52s constantly circled the important radar station near the USAF Thule airbase, Northern Greenland. Its additional task was to act as an airborne monitor and report to the US if the Soviets would take out that extremely important nearby radar station – which would have likely been one of the very first Soviet targets in an attack. That radar was so powerful, it could detect a tennis ball thousands of miles away. It was one of three radars of the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS). Nobody would have noticed an attack on the radar due to its isolation. The solution? A flying monitor with four H-bombs. What could possibly go wrong?
Operation Chrome Dome flights. Hobo 28 flew in an “8” pattern around Thule airbase and the radar station (orange arrow)
The crew of HOBO 28, flying in the mid-afternoon darkness over Northern Greenland on January 21st, 1968, bundled against the biting Arctic cold, were conducting what was meant to be a routine patrol. Already the start wasn’t promising – the autopilot didn’t work, so the pilot had to keep the aircraft in position for the refueling for half an hour, a very demanding and intense experience. Within the cramped confines of the bomber, a seemingly innocuous act would set off a chain of catastrophic events. Seeking a bit of warmth in the frigid cabin, a crew member made the ill-advised decision to place one of the seat cushions near a heating vent, where the hot air came in from the engine compressors. Little did they know, this simple action would soon transform their mission into a desperate struggle for survival.
The four AN/EPS-50 early warning radar antennas at the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System site. At the far right, an antenna dome.
“Ass cushion” with a core of so-called solid gasoline
On the upper deck, the crew smelled something like burned rubber and tried to figure out where it came from. What happened? Those cushions, nicknamed “ass cushions”, had a polyurethane core. This material is described by firemen as “solid gasoline” because it is highly inflammable. As the heaters worked their magic, one cushion in the lower deck began to smolder, then ignite. By the time they had figured out what happened, they had to deal with a solid fire. Two fire extinguishers were emptied, but due to the highly inflammable filling of the cushions, without success. In the upper deck meanwhile, Smoke, thick and acrid, quickly filled the air, obscuring the instrument panels and choking the air. Now battling fire and disorientation, the crew donned their oxygen masks. Mayday! The Captain, John Haug, decided to try an emergency landing at Thule airbase, but couldn’t do much due to the thick smoke. Then they lost power. As he couldn’t see the light of the airbase outside, he figured out that they must be above the base. The situation rapidly deteriorated, and John Haug was forced to make a grim decision: abandon ship.
One by one, the crew members ejected into the unforgiving Arctic air. Six of the seven parachuted to safety. Tragically, one crew member, co-pilot Leonard Svitenko, who took a rest and had given up his ejection seat, was killed. He tried to bail out through one of the lower hatches head first, but the air stream slammed him right back into the aircraft. The B-52, now a ghost ship, continued its flight, a fiery tomb hurtling towards the icy embrace of Wolstenholme Fjord.
Thule Radar (Site J), Thule Air Base (Pituffik), and the approximate crash site of Hobo 28, 12.1km/7.5mi West of Thule Air Base, onto the floating ice in North Star Bay.
“Major, I wouldn’t go within 3000ft of that son of a bitch.”
The Hobo 28 Crash site. Blackened ice, the point of impact is at the top.
The impact was devastating. The conventional explosives within the bombs detonated, rupturing the nuclear warheads and scattering radioactive debris across the frozen landscape. The bombs were not armed, otherwise the nuclear explosion could have easily led to WWIII, as the US might have interpreted it as a Soviet attack on their crucial artic base. But that is pure speculation. Following the ejection, some of the crew members had made it to Thule airbase and let their commander in Omaha know that they had a so-called “broken arrow” incident – which stands for an accident involving nuclear weapons. Captain Criss, who was the first to leave the plane, floated on an ice floe for 21 hours before he was found. He was severely hypothermic and only survived because he had wrapped himself in his parachute.
The following conversation took place between the base commander and the B-52s co-pilot, D’Amario:
“Were you carrying nuclear bombs?”
“Major, as you know, I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of nuclear weapons aboard an airplane.”
“I know that. But I really have to know.”
“I know that, but I’m not allowed to tell you.”
“Let me put it another way. I’m sending out rescue parties, I need to know how close they can safely approach the crash site!”
“Major, I wouldn’t go within 3000ft of that son of a bitch.”
“That tells me all that I need to know.”
Denmark, the sovereign power over Greenland, was a self-proclaimed nuclear-free zone and was quick to announce to their own population that there couldn’t be any nukes involved, as there is no such thing in Denmark (and Greenland). But in fact, there was a secret deal between Denmark and the US, letting the US indeed have Nukes over Greenland. After all, Denmark profited from the US Nuclear umbrella. Only in 1995 was that revealed. The revelation that the U.S. had been flying nuclear-armed bombers over their territory, in direct violation of their nuclear-free policy, sparked a political scandal – “Thulegate”.
“Operation Crested Ice” was launched, a herculean effort to clean up the radioactive mess. In the brutal Arctic conditions, with temperatures plummeting to unimaginable lows and gale-force winds whipping across the ice, teams of airmen meticulously searched for every piece of wreckage. They braved the darkness and the cold, their Geiger counters clicking, their mission to recover every contaminated fragment. The local Inuits had to help them by building igloos for protection. Imagine that the world’s most powerful and advanced military power relies on Inuits to build igloos for them! They found 3 of the 4 cores, but one crucial piece, the secondary stage of a nuclear weapon, a cylinder of uranium and lithium deuteride, remained elusive, lost somewhere in the depths of the fjord. After they tried everything, it was decided that if they couldn’t find that missing cylinder, nobody else could.
Lingering Shadows and Enduring Lessons
Thule Air Base
The Thule incident serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of the Cold War, a time when the world teetered on the brink of nuclear annihilation. It’s a tale of human error, technological hubris, and the enduring power of nature. Even today, the incident casts a long shadow. The missing nuclear component, though unlikely to detonate, remains a chilling reminder of the potential consequences of our actions. Thule Air Base, now a vital radar outpost, is a testament to the Arctic’s ongoing strategic importance.
Safety first. Always.
We hope we didn’t scare you too much. We at MiGFlug always put safety above everything else—as should be the norm in aviation. Hence, we have been incident-free since we started in 2004, for over twenty years now, and we intend to keep it that way. We have very well-maintained aircraft, professional pilots, and, above all, no solid gasoline cushion anywhere near our jets! If you want to learn more about MiGFlug’s fighter jet flights, look here.
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