Next week marks the 55th anniversary of the February 2nd, 1970 unmanned landing of an F-106A Delta Dart in a field north of Big Sandy. The story of an emergency landing alone is more than enough to be memorable in small town lore. The event's significance is amplified by the fact that the jet completed its near perfect "belly landing" without a pilot at the controls. Dubbed "The Big Sandy Cornfield Bomber," the jet was quickly collected by the Air Force, returned to Malmstrom Air Force Base, repaired, and returned to active duty.
According to Rob Turnbow, who runs the Malmstrom Air Force Base Museum and Air Park, the Cornfield Bomber was part of the 71st fighter Intercepter Squadron stationed at Malmstrom with the specific purpose of patrolling the skies of the region and intercepting any unauthorized aircraft that found their way into our airspace. This mission was what the F-106A was designed to perform. It wasn't a bomber at all, in fact. The jet was a redesign of the F-102 and built to be faster with the sole purpose of intercepting and shooting down high altitude Russian bombers.
Air Classics Magazine, who ran a feature this month on the Cornfield Bomber, explained that the February 2nd flight that resulted in the unmanned landing, was meant to be a training mission in which four jets practiced two-on-two dogfighting. However, during takeoff, one of the planes had a malfunction and resulted in the deploying of its drag chute during taxiing. The three remaining Delta Dart pilots revised their plan to a two-on-one dogfight.
The Cornfield Bomber was piloted by Lieutenant Gary Faust, who was the only lieutenant in the squadron. During the dogfight exercise, Faust's aircraft went into a "lefthand flat spin." According to an interview Faust did with the National Museum of the Air Force in 2013, which is now posted on the museum's YouTube page, "It remained in that spin as I was going through the maneuvers, the emergency procedures to recover. It did not recover. I finally, after being prompted by my wingman, ejected approximately at 8,000 feet or so above the ground. Immediately after I ejected, the airplane immediately went completely nose down and recovered from the spin and flew off. It flew a number of miles away and landed by itself in a little town by the name of Big Sandy. There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground. It was in a wheat field. Probably skidded some couple hundred yards or more and came to rest. It ran at idle until it ran out of gas. This wasn't the first time that the minute the pilot ejected a plane recovered from the spin, but I was surprised it landed by itself. It was obviously a shock to everyone."
Though it is unclear what caused the correction, sources I spoke with suggested that it was likely due to a combination of factors. Most important was the ejection seat, which propelled Faust clear of the Cornfield Bomber. The advent of supersonic fighter aircraft had recently rendered the old systems for ejecting pilots inadequate. Newer ejection seats for the F-106 went through several iterations before a final design was settled on in 1965. Various methods, including using explosives to propel the pilot clear of the aircraft were tried. Ultimately, the Weber Zero-Zero Rocket Catapult Seat was created, which employed a ballistic design. It essentially fired the seat from the aircraft using an expanding gas system, not unlike a bullet from a gun.
The flat spin that the Cornfield Bomber was experiencing happens when the airplane remains almost level with the horizon, but begins to spin downward in an uncontrollable manner. Because the airplane is level, very little air flows over the control surfaces of the wings, which reduces their effectiveness in controlling the aircraft. According to Don Chislaghi, who works at the National Air Force Museum, the recoil from the ejector seat combined with the change in the center of gravity when the pilot's weight was removed from the aircraft pushed the nose of the aircraft far enough downwards and exposed the wings to enough airflow to correct the flight of the aircraft. The Cornfield Bomber then leveled out and continued on its way without Lt. Gary Faust at the helm.
The F-106, which was a remarkably automated aircraft for the time, was able to correct itself. Major Jim Lowe, one of the other pilots participating in the training flight that day, watched as the Dart leveled out and shouted: "Gary, you better get back in that thing!" The remaining two aircraft split up at that point. One followed the Cornfield Bomber while the other kept an eye on Lt. Faust's landing.
Lt. Faust's parachute settled him gently in the mountains, where he found himself tangled in some bushes. Shortly thereafter, locals equipped with snowmobiles rescued the pilot. The airplane continued on, slowly descending until it completed what Air Classics Magazine referred to as "a new perfect gear-up touch down near Big Sandy, MT." The aircraft slid a ways, crashed through a fence, turned slightly to the right, and eventually stopped on its own. The airplane completed its landing about 400 yards from Highway 87.
Locals heard the commotion and gathered before calling the authorities, who notified the Air Force Base. Air Force officials advised locals to stay clear of the aircraft and let it run out of gas on its own. Over the next few days, Air Force mechanics disassembled the Cornfield Bomber, which was actually in a hay field and was a fighter jet. They removed the engines and shipped them back separately before sending the aircraft home by truck.
Later in his career, Lt. Faust was given the opportunity to pilot the Cornfield Bomber again. Though I have heard 2 versions of the story, one in which he turned down the opportunity and one where he flew it again, it seems that the latter is true. After piloting the aircraft again in 1979 in Florida, he remarked that it handled well. After the aircraft was retired, the Cornfield Bomber took up residence at the National Museum of the Air Force in Dayton? Ohio, where it is still on display.
Next week, I will try to cover local memories of the event (which are fascinating). In addition, I'll share the story of the Montana playwright who wrote a stage play about the event and share the details of the Big Sandy Theater Company's plans to put on that play at Homecoming, 55 years after the fact.
