Hangar Flying Stories

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We invite everyone to contribute to this section in hopes of capturing the rich and often colorful history of the Hookers over these past 3 decades. So, we ask all of you to contribute your best recollections, short stories, famous flights, summer camps we wanted to forget, or any other bit of unit history, please send us your stories. Just a reminder; the statute of limitations has expired on most of the nefarious shenanigans we engaged in our youth...ck here to add your own text and edit me. It's easyykyuky

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Anybody have old photos of Sand Point? I have a few but would like to build our archive that Doug and I are working on. When I came off active duty in Feb. 1970 I drove down to Sand Point to check out the 617th Avn Co. in March of that year. There were 8 pilots, the two civilian mechanics, Pete and Elmer and 250 draft-dodging EM milling around. They had a single OH-23C on floats. In the back of Hangar 25 was a beat-up H-19 airframe. More often than not, the Hiller was away parked in someone's back yard or pasture, or being used for fishing trips up into the Cascades. So I came on board the 1st of March of 1970. I think the CO's name was MAJ. Peabody. I remember Wayne Fleming, Jim Krofcek, Captain Max Hanks who was a crop duster from Sunnyside, Major Martin, who later became CO. and the Warrant who was killed in a plane crash back east, Ron Larson was his name. John Brockliss came in around my time too.

If those of you who were in the unit in 1970~71, and haven't succumbed to Alzheimer's yet could add to our history, I'd be glad to write it up. We'd better do this fast before we can't remember our own names. It's time to put up a Hook-er website so our children (we know of) grandchildren and wives/girlfriends have something to remember who we were and what we say we did. Let's celebrate the glory and capture the past hook-ers.

Fishing with John Brockliss

FISHING WITH JOHN BROCKLES

My fishing story involves being "recruited". This time the expert angler was none other than John Brockliss. He didn't even ask if I had fishing gear. He just needed someone to assist with getting the Huey's skids shored up with 2 X 4s when landing on river boulders at his favorite fishing hole. I showed up for the flight and we flew up to some remote river in the Cascades. In the back of the Huey John had all his steelhead gear and a pile of lumber. I didn't know what the wood was for until we got near the river.

John explained that we needed it to shore up the skids as we settled onto basketball sized rocks on the river bank. As I recall that section of the river cut through a deep canyon. John selected the best spot, not based on landing suitability, rather closest to the best fishing. He held the Huey at a steady hover with the skids just touching the tops of the bigger rocks. I was instructed to get out and using the 2 X 4s. stick them under the skids so we didn't bend them when he lowered the collective pitch. I got it right and soon all was quiet except for the sounds of John and all his clanking gear trekking up the river. He left me with the helicopter for about 2 hours and disappeared around a bend in the river.

He returned with a few small fish. Soon the Huey was up to speed with me standing on the rocks with my helmet on and plugged in so we could coordinate the retrieval of timbers as he took weight off my handiwork. I then jumped in, strapped in and off we went back to homeplate. We never discussed this again. In fact I had forgotten our little adventure until your story tonight, Clark. At lease we didn't leave any evidence in the chopper.

OK folks, I know there are a lot of good stories out there. Fess up...

CLARK STAHL'S FISHING EXPEDITION WITH PAUL WOLTERS

OK, how about this Sandpoint memory: Middle of winter, circa 1972 approx., I show up for Sunday drill and my platoon leader (Paul Wolters) asks me if I have my fishing gear (steelhead) with me. I respond in the negative and he asks how long it will take to get it...he has a "survival training" mission planned for us. So I drive home, grab my stuff, drive up to the helicopter (H-23), and off we head to the Quinault river on the Olympic Peninsula. If you remember Paul, he's one of the most accomplished fishermen that I've ever known...so of course, he caught a nice steelhead while I just caught a cold. We departed the river with the fish nestled safely in the chin bubble, flew back to Sandpoint, arriving after drill, which was part of the plan...no witnesses. We put the helicopter back in the nice warm hanger, removed our gear, and found that the bright, beautiful steelhead was frozen to the chin bubble. Paul grabbed it, pulled, and it came loose, or at least most of it did, leaving a layer of skin on the plastic. I think the following Monday may have been a holiday, but in any case, when the full-timers next arrived for work there was a slight stench...OK, not so slight, emanating from "our" helicopter in the corner of the hanger (remember, warm hanger?). Of course you know what happened...remember the part of the fish that remained frozen to the chin bubble??? Needless to say we weren't too popular with the "maintenance side of the house." Oh, and me? Well, I always did exactly what my superiors dictated, and survival training was a necessary part of our ongoing dedication to training.

Clark Stahl