A Tragedy on Granby: Part 2

(George Tucker/Virginian Pilot/TCA)

By Captain Alexander G. Monroe (Ret.)

HRNM Docent and Contributing Writer

This is the second part covering the December 9, 1958 crash (Part 1 available here) of a Navy AJ-2 tanker airplane into a Norfolk neighborhood. 

(Virginian Pilot/TCA)

The task before the investigators at Naval Air Force Atlantic Fleet, at the Naval Aviation Safety Center, and in the Squadron was to determine what happened and why. The initial thrust of the investigation was reported in the Virginian Pilot on December 11. An unsigned piece noted that “two smashed engines probably hold the grim key to Tuesday’s tragedy in the 8900 block of Granby Street.” An anonymous investigator opined that, “we are not overlooking the possibility that fuel ready for transfer had been commingled with the Savage’s fuel supply.”[i] The aircraft was removed from the crash site and taken to the Overhaul and Repair Department of the Naval Air Station where investigation began. It was colored by the statement of the investigator noted above. Though a reconstruction layout was not possible because of the extensive destruction of the airplane, the wreckage was sifted and components worthy of study were removed and photographed.[ii] Fuel samples from the aircraft were removed for comparison with those taken prior to take off. The upshot of the examinations was that no JP-4 contamination was found in the plane's fuel tanks and there was no evidence of contamination in the pistons, cylinders or carburetor.[iii]

Headline from December 11, 1958 (Virginian Pilot/TCA)

(Virginian Pilot/TCA)

The cause of the engine malfunction and resulting crash remains speculative, and opinions of the entities conducting the investigations and the endorsers have never been made public. Provisions of federal law, calculated to encourage frank discussion of causes and protect the privacy of those whose performance is under scrutiny--and their families--prohibit such disclosure. It is thought that the safety of Naval Aviation could be improved by non-disclosure.[iv] The squadron commanding officer wrote a final endorsement to the accident report on February 13, 1959. Heavy Attack Squadron 15 was disestablished two days later.[v] His endorsement and those of others, to include Commander Naval Air Force Atlantic Fleet, were heavily redacted. There have been at least five other major air crashes since December 9, 1958, at or in the immediate vicinity of Naval Air Station Norfolk (now known as Chambers Field on Naval Station Norfolk). The accidents have resulted in nine fatalities and involved Patrol, Transport, and Electronic Warfare aircraft. The first and last involved crashes into Willoughby Bay and Ocean View Beach, and one involved an approach and “hard landing”[vi] of a P2V Neptune aircraft in rain with visibility reduced to half a mile.

Though it has taken time to issue regulations that would reduce the likelihood of aircraft accidents in a high density area such as Hampton Roads, initial steps have been taken with the publication of Air Installation Compatible Use Zones studies with respect to Naval Station Norfolk’s air facility Chambers Field. The studies set forth regulations applicable to various governmental entities in the vicinity of Chambers Field. They also establish zones in which construction and occupancy are constrained by existence of the airfield. It assigns various functions and responsibilities to certain entities. For example, in certain areas, such as the approach end of runway 10/270, development is prohibited. On the departure end, the intensity of use of existing structures in the civilian community may not be increased. Such regulation would be within the authority of the Building Commissioner of the City of Norfolk. The Plans of Development would be reviewed by Navy staff to determine if they were in conflict with aviation operations. The resulting apparatus has evolved over a number of years, though its operations have not been without some turbulence as Norfolk has grown.[v]

The 1958 crash was the first in Norfolk in which civilians died (Virginian Pilot/TCA) 

At the time of the December 9, 1958 crash, it was opined that diverting the aircraft to the Naval Air Station at Oceana in what was then relatively pristine farmland might have been a preferable course of action, rather than attempting to reach the home station. However, the area around the station has been built up over the years, and aircraft operations now present a hazard to nearby residents. Although most citizens in South Hampton Roads accept the risk of accidents, they do occur occasionally with devastating results. Since 1967, over 25 air crashes have occurred on the station or in the vicinity of Oceana.[viii]

An F-4 from VF-41 flies over NAS Oceana in 1971. The area was even more rural in 1958. (Wikimedia Commons)

As happens in the Navy, those whose lives were touched by the events of December 9, 1958, moved on, and many are now deceased. A major thoroughfare overlooking Hampton Roads on Naval Station Norfolk is named for Admiral Hughes, who died on December 23, 1960, while on active duty. The CO of VAH-15, Commander Shepard (later Rear Admiral), went on to the staff of Commander Naval Air Force Atlantic Fleet, as Air Operations Officer in USS Essex (CV 9), as Naval Aide to President John F. Kennedy and Commanding Officer of USS Aucilla (AO 56)[ix] and USS Princeton (LPH 5). The squadrons configured for refueling, VAH-15 and 16, were disestablished about 60 days after the terrible crash. In fact, by the summer of 1959 all VAH squadrons had been re-designated RVAH (reconnaissance) Squadrons. What is admirable and lasting is that various Navy and civilian organizations have taken action to lessen the risks and problems that emerge when, as Admiral Hughes aptly expressed it, “we have aircraft continually flying over our heads,” though there may, as a practical matter, be only so many preventative steps that may be taken.

 Endnotes

[i] “Wreckage studied for clues to crash,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, December 12, 1958, p.1.

[ii] AAR 1-58,  p.96.

[iii] Ibid.,pp.70-73; See also CO NAS NORVA(Code 98E/310/869 F11 Ltr of 24 December 1958.

[iv] United States Code, Section 552(b)(5) and United States Code Section 552(b)(6)

[v] The West Coast Heavy Attack Squadron, VAH-16, was disestablished fifteen days earlier. 

[vi] Bureau of Aircraft Accidents (B3A) entry in the case of Norfolk Chambers Field NAS; “Neptune Crash Hurts 6,”  Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Al Edmonds, July 22, 1964.

[vii] For some recent friction see Official Warns about Threat to Naval Station’s Airfield,” Eric Hartley, Norfolk Virginian Pilot, March 17, 2016, p.1.;“Norfolk business owner says she’s broke, stuck in limbo after debate over Navy’s flight path,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Eric Hartley, p.A1. September 8, 2016; “Seven months later, banquet hall back on track to open in Navy Crash zone,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Eric Hartley, p.A1. September 10, 2016.

[viii] “Life in the flight path, noisy, unnerving,” The Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, Alec Klein, Sherrill Evans and Angelita Plummer, June 20, 1992. p. A9; “Mayhem from above, amazingly no deaths reported in Navy Jet crash; dozens displaced after Hornet’s  crash destroyed Beach apartments,” Mike Hixenburg and Kate Wiltrout, Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, p.A.1., April 7, 2012; “Oceana has had 25 plus crashes over 4 decades,”  Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, Bill Sizemore, April 7, 2012.

[ix] Captain Alexander G. Monroe, USN (Ret.), author of this blog, served as an Ensign as Gunnery Officer on board Aucilla during the period of Captain Shepard’s deep draft command tour.

A Tragedy on Granby Street: Part 1

 

The tragedy was covered on the front page of the Virginian Pilot on December 10, 1958. Note the tail of the plane visible in the picture, as well as the four air crew killed in the crash. (Virginian Pilot/TCA)

By Captain Alexander G. Monroe, USN (Ret.)
HRNM Docent & Contributing Writer

Just after noon on December 9, 1958, an AJ-2 Savage (Bureau number 130416) aircraft assigned to Heavy Attack Squadron Fifteen (VAH-15) crashed near the intersection of Granby Street and Bay Avenue on its return to Naval Air Station Norfolk. The entire aircrew was lost and two infants in a nearby house also perished. The accident was the first in the city in which civilians were killed.[i] It led citizens, Navy and civilian, to consider the hazards of military aviation in a congested area and to further develop ways to reduce these dangers. The Commandant of the Fifth Naval District, Rear Admiral F. Massie Hughes, an experienced naval aviator, opined that dangers “would be a continuing problem as long as we have aircraft flying over our heads…”[ii] Concurrently, he stated that there would be a need to “look progressively and constructively in order to stay ahead of such heartbreaking trouble.” Editorial opinion was similar,[iii] though the Norfolk Virginian Pilot’s editors said that an important ingredient in the investigations underway would be determining whether the decision to bring the aircraft home was “sound doctrine.”[iv] In the years since 1958, certain steps have been taken to lessen danger, including publication of Air Installations Compatible Use Zones Study for Naval Station Norfolk. The difficulty of conducting high density aviation operations in the area shared by three military air facilities and a major civilian airport remains vexatious to this very day, just as Admiral Hughes observed in 1958.

The same AJ-2 Savage (Buno 130416) that crashed in Norfolk is seen on the runway at NAS Glenview, Illinois in 1958 (Naval History and Heritage Command)

There was nothing to suggest that there was anything inherently dangerous about the local refueling mission of December 9, 1958, which was to service naval aircraft from NAS Oceana. The plane was in a mechanically sound “up” status. From September 9 to November 14, the plane had flown thirty six and a half hours in local training flights and some farther afield (Chicago and Newfoundland).[v] The maintenance history was “one of relatively little trouble.”[vi] Further, the pilot, Lieutenant Commander George Wilson, had a strong record of 3,500 flight hours and “could be expected to handle any emergency in a correct and positive manner.” His co-pilot, Ensign Fred Melton Clancy III, who replaced his regular co-pilot, had been involved in a situation necessitating an emergency landing at NAS Oceana in October that year and had reacted well to it.[vii] Their plane, with the radio call sign “3 Revolver,” departed NAS Norfolk on runway 28 at 10:40am with 10,000 pounds of 115/145 aviation gasoline and 8,000 pounds of JP-4 jet fuel on board, climbed to 22,000 feet and joined aircraft waiting for refueling at 11:00am near Weeksville, North Carolina.

An AJ-2 Savage refuels a F3-H2 Demon in 1958. (National Naval Aviation Museum)

The mission proceeded as briefed until about forty-five minutes into the evolution, when the pilot reported to the NAS Norfolk tower that he was experiencing engine trouble, discontinued refueling of a Navy jet, began dumping JP-4, and reported that he was returning to base. The first receiving aircraft’s pilot reported that the refueling hose known as the drogue was still deployed and dumping was in progress. No indications of engine malfunction such as vibration, smoke, and fire or other unusual conditions were observed. At 12:03pm the VAH-15 base radio received a call noting that both engines were cutting out at 17,000 feet and one minute later notified Norfolk Tower that both engines were cutting out at 6,000 feet. He was 3 miles east of the Naval Air Station and requested immediate landing. The pilot was given an altimeter setting, instructions for left turns, and a track that would bring him over Willoughby Bay and safely into runway 10.[viii]

A hand drawn map featured in the newspaper on December 11 to illustrate the flight path of the stricken AJ-2 plane, and its crash site. (George Tucker/Virginian Pilot/TCA)

Though the pilot acknowledged the instructions, he did not communicate his intentions. Before the crash eyewitnesses James H. Miller and W. W. Mason noted that the left engine and the centerline jet engine appeared to have failed and that the aircraft was in a ninety degree bank with the right wing down. There was no fear or urgency in the tower tapes as the co-pilot, Ensign Clancy, went down the pre-landing checklist according to Commander Tazewell Shepard, Jr., the squadron’s commanding officer. It was assumed that the aircraft commander was attempting to land on runway 28.[ix] Tragically, the AJ-2 Savage crashed near the intersection of Granby Street and Bay Avenue about one half mile short of the runway. In so doing, it demolished or destroyed homes at 8935, 8939 and 8954 Granby Street, the residences of, respectfully, T. H. Hill, W. C. Poore, and Lieutenant and Mrs. Joseph Tondera and their three children. It also damaged a load of 750 fifty-pound bags of potatoes in a truck operated by Charles Sheppard of Suffolk.

(Virginian Pilot/TCA)

Potatoes lay strewn across the road from the cargo truck struck by the plane, as naval personnel watch firefighters try to douse the flames. (Virginian Pilot/TCA)

Initial efforts and action focused on survival and rescue of those in the aircraft and homes struck by the plane and in the resulting fire. Admiral Hughes and Navy rescue crews responded rapidly. Mrs. Edna Bellamy, the maid for the Hills, was the only occupant of the house at 8935 Granby Street. She was terrified by the fire all around her and was rescued by two Navy sailors. Though badly shaken, she had the presence of mind to rescue the Hill’s shivering fourteen-year-old cocker spaniel, Tag, and wrap the frightened animal in her coat.[x] The Poore home at 8939 was unoccupied because the owner and his family were at DePaul Hospital where he had been scheduled to have surgery. Neighbors of Lieutenant and Mrs. Tondera attempted to rescue the two infants, one of whom was but fourteen days old, but were driven away by a sudden explosion. Both Mrs. Wilson, the pilot’s wife, and Mrs. Tondera were treated for shock at the NAS Dispensary, and Lieutenant Tondera was airlifted ashore from the submarine USS Requin (SS 481). The scene documented in the Virginian Pilot was one of devastation and poignant sadness to include one image of Father Philip Shannon, NAS chaplain, giving last rites of the Roman Catholic Church to the Tondera children.[xi]

(Virginian Pilot/TCA)

The post-crash period was one for recovery and perseverance in the face of tragic loss of the entire aircrew and the Tondera children. Kind neighbors gave the Tonderas shelter and seclusion, as other neighbors did for the Poore family. In time, the grieving Wilson and Tondera families traveled to their hometowns to lay their deceased to rest. The squadron held a memorial on December 11 at the NAS Norfolk Chapel in the Woods. High Requiem Masses were concurrently held for enlisted men Patrick Toomey and John Delaney at the Chapel of the Immaculate Conception at the Naval Station. Ensign Clancy rests in the Arlington National Cemetery.[xii]

Check back next week for the second part of this story.

Special thanks to Troy Valos at the Sargeant Memorial Collection, Slover Library, for his assistance providing scans of the Virginian Pilot's coverage of the accident. 

---

Endnotes

[i] “ 2 Infants, 4 Airmen Die in Crash on Granby,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, December 10, 1958, p.1.

[ii] The Plane Tragedy, Product of the Air Age,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Richard Mansfield, December 11, 1958.

[iii] “Tragedy at Ocean View,” Norfolk Ledger Star, Editorial Page, December 12, 1958.

[iv] “Search for Causes in a Tragic Crash,” Editorial Page, Norfolk Virginian Pilot, December 12, 1958.

[v]   OPNAV 3750 Aircraft Accident Report 1-58, December 31, 1958 (hereafter cited as AAR 1-58)

[vi] See above at enclosure (19).

[vii] See again AAR1-58, pp.100.

[viii] Ibid., p.101., See also, drawing from Norfolk Virginian Pilot of December 11, 1958, p.1

[ix] “Last Minute Engine Trouble Cause of Navy Plane Crash,” Norfolk, Virginian Pilot, Richard Mansfield, December 11, 1958, p. 1.

[x] “Stories of Fright, Heroics on Granby Street,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, December 10, 1958, p.1. 

[xi] See again endnote x above and also “Pilot’s wife saw crash,” Norfolk Virginian Pilot, Betty Bradley, December 11, 1958, p.1.

[xii] See again note above

Forty Years Ago: "Emily," the Last of Her Kind, Returns to Japan

(Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On April 23, 1979, a huge aircraft that had resided in obscurity at Naval Air Station Norfolk for 32 years was feted at a modest turnover ceremony marking her departure for home. 

Code-named "Emily" by the allies during the war, the heavily armed flying boat first entered service in 1941, but the first operational mission occurred when two HK8s from Yokohama Air Group attempted to bomb Pearl Harbor on March 4, 1942. Although unsuccessful, it was the longest aerial bombing mission ever attempted up to that point.

Made both in maritime patrol and transport variants, the rugged, versatile aircraft were ultimately no match for the incessant waves of carrier-borne American fighters that swarmed over the Pacific as the war went on, and they were hunted down one by one.   

U.S. Marines examine the remains of a four-motored Japanese seaplane, possibly a Kawanishi H8K “Emily," one of several enemy aircraft caught on the ground by American airmen at Tanapag Harbor, Saipan, in the Marianas Islands of the Central Pacific. The size of the wing gives a sense of the Emily's immense size, with a wingspan of 124 feet, 8 inches. (Official U.S. Marine Corps Photograph, Office of War Information collection, National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command)

 

Japanese Kawanishi H8K “Emily” aircraft under attack by a slightly smaller American PB2Y Coronado of Heavy Patrol Squadron 116, and finally sunk. The Japanese aircraft is shown with one engine on fire. Photograph received November 12, 1944. (National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command)

When it was discovered in Yokohama in 1945 after the Japanese surrender, the Kawanishi H8K2, serial number 426, was the last intact example of the Japanese military's largest operational wartime aircraft.  The Emily was also arguably the best heavy seaplane of the war.  Although much larger than its American counterparts, she was faster than any American flying boat. This made the Emily a high priority target for Technical Air Intelligence Center teams sent to Japan after the surrender to bring back prime examples of their best aircraft.

The Emily was crated up and brought from Yokohama to NAS Whidbey Island, Washington, where it was determined that she was not airworthy, so she was sent via the Panama Canal all the way to NAS Norfolk (today part of Naval Station Norfolk).  The Overhaul and Repair Facility (O&R, later the Naval Air Rework Facilty/ Naval Aviation Depot) at NAS Norfolk took up the challenge of returning the 38,000-pound behemoth to flyable shape, completely restoring the airframe, controls, hydraulic and electrical systems, as well as her four 1,850 horsepower "Kasei" 22 engines, all without the benefit of blueprints, maintenance manuals, or spare parts. 

A flight test beaching crew secures the H8K “Emily” at the Eastern Seaplane basin parking area of NAS Patuxent River, Maryland, after her arrival from NAS Norfolk in 1946.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On May 23, 1946, O&R had completely refurbished the Emily and she was ready for her first stateside flight. Commander Thomas F. Connolly and Lieutenant Commander Jack Shrefer from Naval Air Test Center Patuxent River took the controls for a test flight from Hampton Roads up to Naval Air Station Patuxent River less than 100 miles away.  

Although this photograph was taken of the Emily's cockpit long after tests were completed, each indicator and control on the instrument panel still shows its re-labeling in English, a testament not only to the daunting task of bringing the aircraft back to flying condition, but flying it.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

The navigation and communication sections of the Emily, located immediately aft of the flight deck. A reporter present for the turnover for the flying boat's turnover ceremony in 1979 observed, "The drawers on the navigation desk were littered with yellowing forms...used by American pilots in Maryland to evaluate the plane's performance during tests."  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Another undated photograph of the Emily's interior, probably looking aft.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Although two of the engines quit along the way, and a third stalled out shortly after landing, neither of the two aviators or the two chief aviation machinist mates aboard were injured.  Commander J.A. Ferguson, the project pilot, accumulated roughly 15,000 total airframe hours in the Emily, mainly taxiing out on the Patuxent River, but she would never take to the American skies again.

This photograph of Kawanishi H8K2 Type 2 flying boat, serial number 426, was probably taken during its only flight while in American hands in May 1946 after being restored to airworthy shape by NAS Norfolk's Overhaul and Repair Facility.  Note that Japanese unit markings have been removed, yet the distinctive "meatball" roundel remains. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

After the series of hydrodynamic tests were concluded, she was disassembled, wrapped in a protective covering, crated back up and shipped back to NAS Norfolk.  Her service fulfilled, some were of a mind simply to cast the Emily into the Chesapeake like other enemy implements tested after World War I.    

The Kawanishi flying boat rests on beaching gear at Chambers Field at NAS Norfolk on December 11, 1948. (Emil Tkachick Photograph Collection/ Smithsonian Institution/ National Air and Space Museum Archive)

The Kawanishi H8K2 undergoing conservation at NAS Patuxent River, Maryland. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)  

Although it was wrapped in a heavy protective cocoon that, in the words of one reporter, made it look "like a three-story toy carved from gray wood," the heat and humidity of Tidewater Virginia took its toll over the decades. Hurricane Donna dealt the heaviest blows to Emily in September 1960, when the flying boat was torn loose from its moorings and tipped over onto its starboard side, breaking loose engine number four. 

Although this photo is undated, it probably shows recovery efforts made after the Kawanishi H8K2 fuselage was toppled by hurricane Donna at NAS Norfolk. Note the American roundel that had been pasted over the original Japanese "meatball." (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file) 

A number of individuals and institutions offered to take the Emily off the Navy's hands over the years, yet regulations governing such transfers either disqualified or dissuaded them all until 1976 when an offer came in from the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo. The two-year-old museum was a nonprofit, meeting the first requirement, and it had the financial wherewithal to bring the Emily back to Japan, satisfying the second.  

Rear Admiral Richard E. Nicholson, Commander, Fifth Naval District, speaks at the official transfer ceremony of the Kawanishi H8K2 Emily to the Museum of Maritime Science on April 23, 1979, as Chaplain (Lt. Cmdr.) Robert P Reidy, Vice Adm. Forrest S. Peterson, Commander, Naval Air Systems Command, and Ryoichi Sasakawa, chairman of the Japanese Foundation for the Promotion of Maritime Science, look on.  With Mr. Sasakawa is an interpreter who was not identified.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

The transfer was subsequently approved by Congress, and after the ceremony on April 23, 1979, the Naval Air Rework Facility was relieved of responsibility for the huge seaplane after three decades. During his remarks, which included an impassioned call for world peace, Ryoichi Sasakawa, president of the museum, said of the last Emily, "This is for us a Christmas and a birthday present."

Ryoichi Sasakawa, chairman of the Japanese Foundation for the Promotion of Maritime Science and President of the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo shakes hands with Rear Adm. Richard E. Nicholson, Commander, Fifth Naval District, during the official transfer ceremony. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum file)

On May 31, the Emily was craned onto a barge for the trip back to Japan and Mr. Sasakawa reported the Emily's arrival at the Museum of Maritime Science on July 13, 1979, writing in a note repeated in a naval message that "she will survive as long as the Japanese people remember her."  After nearly a quarter-century in Tokyo, the last Emily flying boat was moved in 2004 to the Kanoya Air Base Museum in Kagoshima Prefecture on the island of Kyushu, where she remains today. 

Kawanishi H8K2 Type 2 flying boat, serial number 426, the last of 167 made, on display at Kanoya Museum near Kagoshima, Japan.  The flying boat spent over three decades in Hampton Roads after World War II and was officially turned over to the Museum of Maritime Science in Tokyo on April 23, 1979, where the "Emily" was displayed until 2004. (Photograph by Max Smith via Wikimedia Commons)