In today’s episode of “Buzz’s Bedtime Stories," we look at the time I diverted Air Force One. Put another log on the fire, get comfy, and tuck in.
On Christmas Eve 1997, I accompanied President Bill Clinton on a surprise visit to our troops deployed to Bosnia during that war. I was his Air Force Military Aide and carried the “Nuclear Football.” I accompanied him everywhere. The trip to Bosnia was a closely kept secret, and not even the press knew until we alerted them at the last minute. I’d known for about 24 hours but couldn’t tell a soul. Not even my wife. And secrecy was paramount. It was a combat zone.
The itinerary was to helicopter on Marine One from the South Lawn of the White House to rendezvous with Air Force One at Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland. From there, to cross the ocean to Aviano Air Base, Italy, we changed to tactical C-17s with defensive systems to enter the combat zone and continued. We’d visit Sarajevo and Tuzla, and return to Aviano to get back on the 747 and fly home. We’d be back on Christmas Day. That was the plan. Super long day and no breaks. There and back.
Early that Christmas Eve evening, we flew on Marine One from the South Lawn to Andrews and boarded for our flight to Italy. I used to love flying on Marine One because, as an Air Force pilot, I got to talk on the radios. I was a “big boy” again.
We departed Andrews and started out over the Atlantic. When I was on AF-1, I never slept. I was working. I’d hang out in the cockpit, visit the USAF stewards, check on the president, and sit in my comfy chair and watch a movie. I had a secure satellite phone and an unsecured phone at my elbow. It was a pretty sweet gig. I tried to relax and not think too much about the long day ahead. On AF-1, you can call up to the Communications Center, just aft of the cockpit, and ask them to play something for you. I think I watched Fargo. The Comm Center was manned by some of the Air Force’s greatest comm professionals. That’s where I stored “The Football” on long flights.
About halfway across “the pond” (the Atlantic), I thought to check our arrival weather in Italy. Pilot thing. Just trying to anticipate any potential problems. I quickly learned the forecast was dire. Aviano, our planned arrival base, was closed. Our C-17s were already “staged” there, but we couldn’t get in safely. “Well damn,” I thought. I started looking at weather in and around Europe. Our planned alternative was Rome. It was all down. I looked at other bases in Italy. Nothing. I looked at France or Australia. Nope. “Holy s***,” I thought.
I went to the cockpit to chat with the pilots. “What are you guys thinking?” Again, their filed alternate was Rome. Rome was also closed, AND they didn’t have the necessary security for the president of the United States anyway. I said, “Let me make some calls and find us a suitable alternative.”
We didn’t have a lot of time. I went to work. I called the Air Mobility Command TACC (operations) on the satellite phone and asked for the senior controller. I was immediately patched through. I explained our situation and told him we needed to divert to someplace we could get into AND have the C-17s take off at Aviano in 0/0 weather (zero ceiling/zero visibility) to meet us. I suggested Ramstein AB, Germany. It had the only weather above the minimum requirements in the European Theater. I’d been there a million times, and I knew it was a secure USAF base. If only the C-17s could get there!
The colonel was dumbfounded. I cut to the chase and asked, “Can I just talk to General Duncan McNabb?” Duncan was the CINC of Air Mobility Command (and also a buddy). The colonel patched us right through.
General McNabb got on the phone; I’d woken him up in the middle of the night, and I explained what was going on and what I wanted to do. He said, “Goddammit, Buzz, if this wasn’t you, I wouldn’t believe it!” We both chuckled.
So, General McNabb notified Ramstein. We were going there. The AF-1 guys were on board with the plan. The entire base mobilized at 2 a.m. local time. It was incredible. The entire wing, in uniform, to meet and assist the president of the United States. Now, to get our C-17s to meet us. I called their mission commander, who was in Aviano, and who, by the way, was my predecessor as the White House Air Force MILAIDE. “Hey, Darren, we need you guys to meet us at Ramstein.” Aviano was still below minimums. It was sketchy, but I knew the Air Force crews were capable.
He said, “We can do it.” I said, “We’re three hours out. See you there!”
AF-1 landed in a snowstorm at Ramstein. As we taxied to the ramp, I saw the entire wing, generals and all, ready to meet us. The ENTIRE frikking base! What I didn’t see were the C-17s. We deplaned from AF-1 so the Clintons could meet the troops briefly. And then I looked over my shoulder, three C-17s landing in the snow to meet us! It was clockwork. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. We walked from AF-1 to the C-17s in 15 minutes. We effing did it!
As we boarded the C-17, President Clinton called me over and asked me, “How the hell did you do that?” “Sir, I really don’t know. Lots of prayer.“
We departed east toward Bosnia, through heavy falling snow. We visited Sarajevo and Tuzla, and hours later, headed back to Aviano to meet up with the C-17s, which had repositioned. The weather had improved.
We made the aircraft swap quickly and departed for the U.S. and Andrews. By the time we arrived, I’d been up 36 hours, but we were home for Christmas! Longest day of my life, but a good one!
