Overflight. Any altitude below two thousand feet was considered marginal.
In one respect our luck held. There were no incidents over Russia, not even a close call.
The year 1957 brought more changes, ramifications of which are still felt.
On August 26 the Soviet Union announced it had launched its first successful intercontinental ballistic missile, or ICBM.
On September 4 a new age opened with the successful orbiting of the first space satellite, Sputnik.
One month later, less one day, Sputnik II was in orbit, with the dog Laika aboard.
Russia was busy. So were the U-2s. With these events, the overflights gained a new and far greater importance. That the government of the United States was pleased with our efforts became evident when we were told that, although civilians, each of us had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, our military records having been changed to show the award.
Another significant event during this period was a revision of attitude toward the aircraft itself. By now it was apparent the engineers had badly misjudged the reliability of the U-2. It had proven to be an extremely capable plane, able to withstand a great deal of abuse and still perform beautifully.
The number of flights increased. And, as we neared the eighteen-month expiration date of our contracts, we were asked to renew for another twelve months.
I had mixed feelings. My commitment to the program was total. I believed in what we were doing, feeling it was not only vital to our national security but that the information gathered might someday be a determining factor in our survival.
My reservations were personal.
Sometime earlier Barbara had obtained a transfer from Athens to a job at Wheelus Air Force Base, Tripoli, Libya. Occasionally it was necessary to ferry one of our T-33 instrument trainers to Wheelus for inspection; whenever possible, I would try to get the assignment. But our marriage was badly floundering and in the fall of 1957, when Barbara and I returned to the United States, we discussed the idea of a divorce.
I did not talk over my personal problems with the agency (they would not be mentioned here except for their relevance to what followed), but I did indicate that in November, when my contract expired, I might not renew.
Nor was I the only one who had made this decision. Several other married pilots had decided that an eighteen-month separation from their families was more than enough.
Having little choice, the agency capitulated. If we extended, they would let us move our families to Adana.
I gave the matter much thought. It seemed to me that many of Barbaraâs and my problems could be attributed to long separations. Perhaps were we together we could still salvage our marriage. Wecould at least give it one more try. I did not believe in divorceâit seemed like giving up.
After taking another physical at Lovelace, I renewed my contract and brought Barbara back to Adana in time to celebrate Christmas in Turkey.
With the arrival of the wives, social life at Incirlik improved immeasurably, as did the food.
The married couples rented houses in town. Parties were frequent. Because the job was not without its tensions, when we got the chance to relax we made the most of it. This included considerable drinking. Enjoying liquor, I did my share. Barbara, I soon realized, was doing more than hers. There were arguments, incidents. Not really facing up to the fact that we had problems, I convinced myself that once she adjusted to the changed way of life, things would go more smoothly.
Because there was little to do in Turkey, the R&R leaves became much-anticipated events. We had a C-54 transport to bring in supplies from Germany. Arrangements were made for it to drop off families there one week, pick them up the next. On occasion, shopping-sight-seeing trips were set up for the wives, to Athens, Beirut, Paris, Naples. Many of the pilots bought cars and had them shipped to Adana. The detachment obtained
J A Fielding, BWWM Romance Hub