I Always Wanted to Fly: America's Cold War Airmen

10. More Secret Than the Manhattan Project

Chapter 10 More Secret Than the Manhattan Project My first encounter with airplanes and flying was in 1929, I was eleven. I got a ride in a Ford trimotor. That was like going to heaven. Hack Mixson, air force pilot Even though the story leaked out of the woodwork two or three years ago, I still find it strange to talk and write about it. While it was happening it rivalled the Manhattan Project for secrecy. In fact, I think it outranked the Manhattan Project. Squadron Leader John Crampton, DFC, AFC and Bar, Royal Air Force, Retired Colonel Marion C. Mixson Distinguished Flying Cross (2), Air Medal (5) ‘‘I was born in Charleston, South Carolina, March 20, 1918. My first encounter with airplanes and flying was in 1929. I was eleven. I got a ride in a Ford trimotor. That was like going to heaven. If an airplane 175 Strategic Reconnaissance flew over Charleston, I’d run outside to take a look. There weren’t that many airplanes then. Once a German Dornier seaplane landed in Charleston Harbor. It was a monstrous thing, exciting. Aviation was spread pretty thin in those days, but I always knew I wanted to fly. I believe it was my nanny who first called me Hack, and the name stuck with me ever since. I was raised in Charleston, went to the public schools there, and after high school attended Presbyterian College in Clinton, South Carolina. College was a pretty uneventful four years. When I graduated from Presbyterian in 1939, I ended up with a commission as a second lieutenant in the infantry. My brother, Lawrence, was four years older than I. In World War II he served in the navy in the Pacific, where both of his destroyers, the Osborne and the Renshaw, were heavily damaged in combat with Japanese naval forces. I went to work in the family business in Charleston, the Mixson Seed Company, selling seed and fertilizer throughout the southeastern states. ‘‘In the fall of 1939, I soloed a little 45-horsepower Aeronca. What a thrill it was to soar above Charleston on my very own. I’ll never forget that first solo flight. Fortunately, I had a friend, Robert Carroll, who owned several airplanes. The best one was a Rearwin Cloudster made at Fairfax Airport in Kansas City, Kansas. It had a 120-horsepower fivecylinder radial Ken-Royce engine—pretty powerful stuff for that day. Between 1939 and 1941, I flew several hundred hours with Robert and his brother, Edwin. I flew every time I got a chance. In July 1941 Edwin and I took off from Charleston to fly to Los Angeles. We stopped in Atlanta and got gas. Spent the night in Monroe, Louisiana. Went on to Fort Worth, Texas, and had lunch there. It was about ninety-five degrees . Then we headed to Wichita Falls, flying at three thousand feet. I was flying. All of a sudden the old RPM just went down and kept on going down. I said to Edwin, ‘I can’t maintain altitude. I’m going to have to land.’ In those days, the sectional charts showed farm- and ranch houses. Edwin located the nearest farmhouse on the map, I headed for it, and we landed in a field by a rock cairn next to the house. We got out and checked everything and found nothing wrong. We cranked the engine up again, and it ran like a breeze. So we took off 176 More Secret Than the Manhattan Project and flew to Wichita Falls. The mechanic there couldn’t find anything wrong with the airplane either. Being cautious, we decided not to go on to Los Angeles and instead flew to the Ken-Royce plant at Fairfax Field in Kansas City. They modified the engine so we didn’t have to manually grease the rocker boxes with a squirt gun. We met Mr. Rearwin , the owner of the plant, and his two sons, Ken and Royce, after whom he named the engine. They checked the engine themselves and declared everything was fine. We still had our doubts, though, and flew back to Charleston. ‘‘Two weeks later Robert Carroll, who owned the plane, and I set off on the same trip. Same itinerary—gas in Atlanta, overnight in Monroe, lunch in Fort Worth, even sitting at the same table. It was ninety-five degrees again. As we flew along, heading for...