Douglas C-133 Cargo Master near disaster

My loadmaster, and extra flight engineer, were wearing oxygen masks plugged into portable oxygen bottles and busily soaking up the spilt fuel. The loadmaster was sweeping puddles of it into pools so they could soak it up with the use of a large deck mop. When the mop could hold no more, they squeezed its contents into a bucket with a foot-activated wringer. I admired their sterling effort, but it appeared that they were just keeping pace with the amount of fuel pouring out from the F-4. 

I felt that the situation was so critical that the smallest spark would ignite the whole mess. I returned to the cockpit while my navigator remained in the cargo compartment to assist in sweeping the fuel into pools. I told my copilot to reduce the engine power to idle, assume a nose high attitude and increase the rate of descent. (I wanted the aircraft to assume a high angle of attack to force the fuel to flow toward the rear of the aircraft).

I returned to the cargo compartment and was pleased to note that the amount of fuel spewing out from the jet was now just a trickle. In addition, the nose high attitude had forced the spilled fuel to pool in the rear of the cargo compartment. (I now thought we had a chance of solving the problem before the Pilot’s Grim Reaper could find a way of blowing us up).

When a bucket was full, I would carry it up the slanted rear cargo ramp and dump it out one of the open pressurization outflow valves. With our eyes and feet burning, from the effects of the fuel, we continued this process until all the fuel that could be soaked up was dumped overboard and fuel was no longer being ejected from the F-4 jet. 

We congratulated each other for still being alive and headed for the cockpit where we would be able to breathe without the use of an oxygen mask. When back in the cockpit I noted that we were now flying at 10,000 feet in smooth air, with a cabin pressure altitude of zero and the line of thunderstorms many miles to the rear. It appeared that we would survive. However, my boots were soaked with jet fuel so I took them off to let my feet dry out. My crew members that assisted in the cargo compartment clean up did the same. My copilot asked if we should inform ATC with our high frequency radio that we were flying at such a low altitude, but were otherwise OK. I said, “No, the cargo compartment is still not fully dried out and still reeked of fuel fumes and I don’t want to take a chance on the radios creating a spark, as fuel vapors are more dangerous than liquid fuel.” Therefore, we just kept on flying toward Clark AFB and would contact them when we were within VHF radio range. 

Fortunately, we had departed Saigon with excess amounts of fuel so remaining at 10,000 feet was not a fuel-burn problem. When about 75 miles from Clark, I called the control tower on VHF. They were surprised to hear from us, as they had not received any updates on our flight since shortly after we departed Saigon and had reported us missing and presumed lost. They were also surprised to learn that we were flying at 10,000 feet. I told them that I would explain everything after landing. 

We made an uneventful night landing and after shutting down the engines, a maintenance officer came to the cockpit and said, “Colonel, I think you have a fuel leak. I can smell fuel fumes in the cargo compartment”. My answer, “No kidding, I guess we will have to check it out.” 

I demanded that the F-4 be off loaded and stated that I was not carrying it any further. I submitted a report of the incident, outlining how close we had been to becoming another C-133 accident statistic, but never received a reply. (I accepted the incident as the perils of war, and let it go at that). We opened the side cargo door and the rear cargo ramp and left them open for 24 hours. The following day, with our radar problem corrected and the fuel fumes evaporated, we departed Clark AFB and three days later were safe and sound in Dover, AFB Delaware.