When the general died

Monday, June 11, 2018

Note: We celebrate Flag Day this week on June 14th. One of the really stirring displays of American Flags in this area is at the hillside cemetery in Culbertson along Highway 6&34. Of course, those flags fly proudly on Memorial Day, Flag Day, 4th of July, but on other special occasions as well. I never pass that cemetery without remembering the time when those flags welcomed “home” a hometown hero, General Charles Eisenhart.

In 1968, during the height of the Cold War, the Air Force engaged in a practice known as Operation Looking Glass, which dictated that a command plane, complete with commanding General and full staff, be in the air at all times. This command plane was in contact with Strategic Air Command (SAC) planes all over the world and would be able to coordinate a retaliatory strike and fully conduct the war, in case SAC headquarters were destroyed in a nuclear attack. Major General Charles M. Eisenhart, from Culbertson, NE, had been a regular commander of this airborne command post for a number of years. But on Thursday, January 18, 1968, General Charles Eisenhart, age 53, was en route to Glasgow(MT) AFB with his staff, on a routine inspection tour, in his new role as Vice Commander of the 15th Air Force out of March Field, California. During a 9 a.m. takeoff, from an ice-covered runway at Minot (ND) Air Force Base, in fog-shrouded conditions, the huge, four-engine, converted KC135 crashed, killing General Eisenhart, six Colonels, one Major, one Captain, and three Enlisted men. One enlisted man survived the crash.

This much I learned from the McCook Gazette that evening. I was about to learn more. I was already familiar with the name. The Eisenharts were one of Nebraska’s most prominent pioneer families, from Culbertson—-a legendary family really. George Eisenhart a banker in the early days of the 20th Century, did his part in populating this part of Nebraska. He had 15 children, by two wives. The story goes that whenever there was remodeling going on at the Eisenhart residence it was the sign that another baby on the way. The Eisenhart name was synonymous with success—-in business, in the professions, in athletics.

Charlie Eisenhart earned 12 letters during his four years at Culbertson High. The Eisenhart boys, collectively, earned some 77 athletic letters, still a record for one family. Russ, one of the younger Eisenhart boys, qualified for the state track meet in 1941, the only member of the Culbertson team to do so. Since there was no school money to send the team to Lincoln, even a team of one, the coach told Russ that he could compete, but he would have to make his own arrangements. Reportedly, he hitched a ride with the Stratton team, stayed with a brother, at the brother’s fraternity house in Lincoln, and with a pair of borrowed track shoes, proceeded to win the Class C team track title for Culbertson, all by himself.

Charlie graduated from Kearney State College in 1937. He entered the Army Air Corps at Randolph Field, Texas. 29 years later he was promoted to Major General. During WWII he commanded bomber squadrons operating from the Marianas Islands against Japan. At the time of his death he had flown more than 8000 hours, including 156 combat hours, and had earned the Legion of Merit, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Bronze Star, and the Presidential Unit Citation among other decorations. He was considered one of SAC’s top strategic planners and commanders. He was qualified to fly every type of plane in the SAC arsenal. Eisenhart apparently was a man born to fly. At McCook in 1964, at an awards banquet of the Nat’l Soaring Championships, guest speaker, General Eisenhart said, “It is old-fashioned to be sentimental about flying today, but I believe you will forgive me. I guess you could describe a pilot in the same terms they used to describe cattlemen around McCook in the old days. It was said that the cattleman was the most independent, stubborn, high-falutin’ cuss on earth. Put that man on a seven-foot horse and words couldn’t describe him. Well, you make such a man master of the sky and you have the same situation.” Mark Twain made a similar statement about the riverboat pilots of his day. “Your true pilot cares nothing about anything on earth but the river, and his pride in his occupation surpasses the pride of kings.”

We were just finishing our supper the fateful day that we got the news of Gen. Eisenhart’s death, when I got a call from my cousin, CWO Ray Scott, at SAC headquarters. Assuming that I had heard of Gen. Eisenhart’s death, he startled me with, “Walt, I need your help! I’ve been assigned as the Project Officer for Gen. Eisenhart’s funeral, to coordinate plans between the family and the military. There will be a lot of high brass flying into McCook for the funeral from all over the world and we are going to need transportation to get them to Culbertson for the services. We also need a place to feed them before the funeral, and maybe a few other things. Will you be my contact person in McCook?”

Wow, what a shock. But Scottie could be very persuasive, and of course I agreed to do what I could do. For the next three days I belonged to the Air Force. I talked to Scottie a dozen times over the phone, met with the officer who flew here to check out arrangements with Art Hermann, the undertaker, and made the contacts in McCook and Culbertson.

The VFW of Culbertson volunteered cars and drivers, and my Dad, Walter, who happened to be visiting from Plainview, offered his car. I served as Scottie’s driver. But we still needed buses. Luckily, Clem Griffin, director of the Job Corps, which was at that time in operation at the old Air Base, came to the rescue and provided buses and drivers for our use.

Scottie arrived in McCook early Saturday morning, the day of the funeral. He set a fine example for military efficiency. When crises arose he took care of them. The McCook City Airport quickly ran out of parking space, and in an attempt to park just one more military plane onto an apron of runway, one big plane became stuck in the soft ground. Wreckers from Hormel’s and Anderson’s garages quickly pulled the plane back onto the tarmac.

It seemed as if Scottie knew everyone in the Air Force. Most of the officers arriving had served with Scottie at SAC headquarters at one time or another. As planes landed, he met the crew and passengers, and assigned them to cars or buses for the ride to the McCook Elk’s Club for dinner. The General officers rated a car. Colonels and below were assigned to the buses. I still chuckle when I think of the look on one Colonel’s face when Scottie redirected him from the car he was about to enter, to one of the Job Corps buses. But the military lives by protocol and everyone accepted the arrangements with good graces. Remarkably, for a group of men who thrived on giving orders, there was no trouble with prima donnas who might have felt obliged to throw their authority around, and make a scene.

By the luck of the draw, my Dad’s car was assigned to carry the group, which included Lt. Gen. Hewitt T. Wheless, Assistant Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force, from the Pentagon, Lt. Gen. Keith K. Compton, Vice Commander of SAC, and another Brig. Gen. from SAC Headquarters. These three generals and my Dad seemed to hit it off immediately, a fact I learned when we got to the Elks’ Club for lunch. I went over to Dad’s group and Dad introduced me to his new friends. I suggested that Dad join Scottie and me at our table to eat. “Nonsense, son!” spoke up Gen. Wheless. “I want to buy Walter’s lunch. I need to hear more about his cow herd and those Limousine bulls. We’ll catch up with you later.” How they had gotten on the subject of Limousine bulls in that short ride from the airport I’ll never know.

The atmosphere at the Elks’ Club was that of a school class reunion. There was a good bit of table hopping as friends who had served together all over the world, exchanged news and bits of gossip. There were many stories about General Eisenhart, his exploits during the war, “whatever happened to so and so”, and inside jokes where the mere mention of an incident would provoke laughter. “Charlie” was a popular, much respected fellow officer.

There was not excessive security in McCook and Culbertson on the day of the funeral. It was not overtly noticeable anyway. On the way to the Culbertson church, however, Scottie pointed out a military vehicle parked off Highway 6&34, below the cemetery, and out of sight of the mourners at the gravesite. That, he explained, was the Command Post, fully staffed, under the direction of Maj. Gen. Couch, from SAC . They were in constant touch with SAC HDQ, and the Pentagon in Washington. They were also coordinating a team of three Air Force planes, scheduled to fly over the gravesite at the conclusion of the ceremony.

SAC’s Elite Honor Guard formed, while pall bearers from March Field carried General Eisenhart’s flag draped coffin into the EUB Church. It was estimated that more than 60 military dignitaries were a part of the more than 300 mourners jammed into the church. Many more waited in their cars or listened outside and in the basement of the church.

Rev. Eldo Kirkus, resident Pastor, presided at the ceremony, assisted by Lt. Col. John Sanders, Offut AFB Chaplain. With the presence of the military it was extremely solemn and very impressive rite. At the close of the church service, Rev. Kirkus, at the request of the family, read Alfred Lord Tennyson’s, “Crossing of the Bar”.

The Culbertson Cemetery occupies a hill on the north side of Highways 6&34, overlooking Culbertson and the Republican River Valley, a view that people said was a favorite of General Eisenhart’s from the time he was a boy.

The graveside scene was especially touching and memorable. Mrs. Eisenhart, daughter, Marian, and son, Donald, who had already followed his father into the military, were surrounded, lovingly, by that large Eisenhart family. And all those Air Force officers—- showing their support for the widow and the children, and expressing their deep devotion for their friend and fallen comrade—-made a picture not soon forgotten.

Rev. Kirkus read the scripture. Chaplain Sanders followed with the committal service and the closing prayer—-the firing of the final military salute, then taps.

As the trumpet sounded the last note of taps there was a sound in the south, by the river, a sound that grew to a deafening roar as a formation of two huge B-52s and one KC135 flew very low, not more than 1000’ over our heads, The two outside planes veered off, but the middle plane streaked upward, in a steep climb, seemingly straight up, symbolically escorting the spirit of Gen. Eisenhart on his last flight, to the heavens — and then they were gone. The graveside service was over. General Eisenhart was “home” once more.

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  • Excellent article Walt. Two families, the Eisenharts and the Air Force, coming together to celebrate a life well lived. Touching. Well done. Thank you. Dick Trail officer and pilot

    -- Posted by Dusty on Mon, Jun 11, 2018, at 9:30 PM
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