Two Sunrises in a Single Morn

In 1970, I was stationed at the Naval Magazine, in Guam (USNAVMAGGUAM). My Grandma Pearlie was dying of pancreatic cancer. I wanted to see her before she died, so I requested and was granted emergency leave. I flew on a military standby basis. That was kind of like registered hitchhiking on a space available basis. I caught a flight from Guam to Hickam Field, which is located between Honolulu and Pearl Harbor. I got my name on a list for a flight to North America, then waited. It was a very long wait, but about 0430 I was told that they could get me onto an EC135 which was going to Offutt AFB, near Omaha, NE. I had lost a lot of time in the long wait, so to be able to get so close to home in a single flight was a Godsend.

The 135 designation was applied by the U.S. Air Force to the Boeing 707 body. The KC135 was pretty well known during the Vietnam Era as a cargo carrier. The EC135 was cram packed with so much electronics equipment that there was room for only seven of us beyond a small crew. The advantage was that we were able to move pretty freely around the plane without getting in anyone's way.

The first sunrise took place shortly before we boarded. Before takeoff, the pilot told us that because there were so few of us, we could come into the cockpit, one at a time, after we were well underway. When the plane achieved cruising altitude, we were above a pure white cloud deck, the top of which looked like moguls in the snow for as far as the eye could see in all directions. After a while, I went forward for my visit to the cockpit. It was summer. We were flying in an ENEasterly direction. They gave me a verbal tour of the small, crowded area, and as I stood behind the pilot looking directly out of the front windshield, a golden arc came peeking above the clouds and continued to grow until I witnessed a second full sunrise, less than two hours after the first.

I regret that this narrative can convey only the uniqueness, but not the emotion of the event.