Clifford Schoeffler

Highlights of General Schoefflers Life and Career Born in 1924 in Lafayette, Louisiana of recent German Immigrants, his father Alfred was a Veteran of WWI who fought in the German Afrika Corps in Eastern Africa on horseback as an Uhlan for the Fatherland defending his homestead in then German East Africa in what is now Tanzania & Rwanda. His mother Melanie’s first husband had been killed as a German Artillery Officer on the Russian Front of WW1. Alfred, Melanie and daughter Ruth came to the US to join Alfreds family in Lafayette due to the extreme desperate conditions prevalent in Germany following the War to end all Wars in 1921. Dad was an athlete who loved playing football and baseball and also grew up loving to hunt and fish in the bayous, swamps and marshes of South Louisiana. On December 7th, 1941 he and his family heard the news about Pearl Harbor; shortly thereafter the US declared war on Germany as well as Japan. By this time his family had been in the US for 20 years and at age 18 Dad started to make plans to get into the War. His father and his mother told him that he needed to do it, that it was right, and when he questioned about how they would feel if he had to go to Europe and bomb Germany. They told him in the thick accents they had until their deaths in the 60s, that the US was not only his country but their homeland now. They loved this land which gave them so much opportunity and they wanted their son to love it as well. This was the ethic given him by his parents, one that stayed with him his entire life. In May of 42, Dad enlisted in the Army Air Corps Cadet Program and was sent to San Antonio for primary training. Those who didnt make it through Primary became regular enlisted in the Army, something Dad definitely did not want! Getting ‘airsick’ was one way to ‘washout’, and Dad told me he had to ‘hold it down’ more than once through sheer willpower. After being Commissioned a 2d Lt. with his wings firmly planted on his chest he was assigned to B-24s, once completed with B-24 training he was further selected to become a ‘Pathfinder’. The Pathfinders had the most advanced training of all the bomber crews, they were trained to fly and drop their ordinance using the fairly new technology called Radar. Dad flew 30 combat missions out of England as a Pathfinder; these specially trained aircrews only flew when the weather was known to be bad and their main job was to lead the bombing mission to the target and then make the first drop with the remainder of the flight dropping on their mark. It was while flying as a Pathfinder that Dad earned his first Distinguished Flying Cross. He also earned a letter of reprimand signed by General ‘Tooey’ Spatz. It seems that while leading a mission to Germany which was aborted his flight commander asked him if he could take out the German Anti-Aircraft positions around Paris which were hurting them every time they flew over. Dad being the ‘hotshot’ First Lieutenant he was replied that he ‘damn sure could’! Weather was not good and radar had to be used to make the bombing run. The flight commander ordered the flight to ‘drop on Schoeffler’, which they did. Upon return to the base in England, as Dad was taxiing to his revetment he noticed a Generals Staff Carr on the apron. He spun his B-24 around as all crackerjack pilots did and saw the Staff Car approaching him. He thought he was ‘gonna get himself a medal’. The window went down on the Staff Car and an arm motioned him over, the voice from inside asked as Dad smartly saluted, if he was Lt. Schoeffler, to which Dad proudly admitted. The General inside the car then instructed him to report to his quarters and to remain there, he was under house arrest and would be notified when the appropriate disciplinary action was decided on! It seems there was a standing order that no bombing by radar was to be done in Allied Territory, France though occupied by the Germans was Allied Territory. Dad kept a very low profile for a couple of days and on his way to chow happened to pass a friend of his who was in Damage Assessment. This friend asked Dad if he had seen the damage photos taken by the recon aircraft of the anti-aircraft sites around Paris. Dad told him in no uncertain terms he had not, and that furthermore he didnt like the subject being brought up! But then had to ask..how was it? His buddy told him they had ‘knocked the hell’ out of them! One day later Dad was called back to lead a mission due to bad weather, house arrest being ignored by the CO who needed a Pathfinder! Shortly after that the Lt. Col. who had ordered the bombing run was awarded the DFC for taking that action. Dad and his crew, who had each individually received the letters of reprimand, were given the originals which had been removed from their personnel jackets. They managed to locate some hard cider, made a little bonfire and all burned the letters. Dad always regretted burning that letter. Following completion of his ’30’ in his beloved ‘Polaris, the Heavenly Body’ Dad volunteered to extend his tour provided he was transferred to fighters. He was accepted into Fighter School in England, but was sent on R&R to Scotland first. Upon return from R&R he found he had been bumped from the roster by higher ranking officers and was told he would have to return to the States. He was sent to Bryan, Texas where he went through AT-6 School and graduated at the top of his class, an event that much to his disgust kept him on as an Instructor Pilot in AT-6s. He finished out the War teaching others to fly and claimed that that period of time was the most dangerous period of the War for him. After the War, still a First Lieutenant and now married, Dad was offered a Regular Commission. Like most others he had planned on getting out and returning to civilian life and most likely back to college. To be offered a Regular Commission at that time was unusual as our Armed Forces had to drastically reduce their size during peacetime. Dad decided to accept it and to make the Army Air Corps his career; he truly loved to fly and was exceptionally good at it as he had already proven time and again. B-24s and B-29s remained his aircraft until the advent of the behemoth B-36. Transferred to Carswell Airfield, Fort Worth, Texas in 1948, with one child and another on the way, Dad would spend the next 10 years flying the B-36. He and only 2 other pilots logged over 6,000 hours in that monster machine. His longest logbook entry was some 36-37 hours in the air without mid air refueling. While flying the Peacemaker with the 7th Bomb Wing, he was selected to compete for the Fairchild Trophy 3 times. He became one of the youngest to make Lt. Colonel in peacetime at age 27, due to the Spot Promotion Program for Select SAC crews. He flew the B-36 to demonstrate US Air Power all over the world, to Europe, to North Africa, to Alaska where they landed on the snow. He loved to do Chandelles in the 36, quite a feat for an airplane with 6 Turbocharged pusher props and 4 outboard jet engines and a wingspan equal to the length of a football field. On Friday the 13th, March of 1953 the whole world came to an end. While returning from England with a full load of bombs and munitions on board he put a B-36 into the side of a mountain in Goose Bay, Labrador. Dad was flight leader, bringing the 7th Bomb Wing home, he had the wing commander, Col. Chadwell in the jump seat behind him as he flew instruments on his way into Goose Bay where they were scheduled to land and refuel. Col. Chadwell yelled, Dad looked up and saw a huge mountain approaching fast, he yelled to his co-pilot for full power and pulled the yoke as far back as he could hoping to be able to gain enough altitude to barely miss. They didnt miss, but by his actions and that of his co-pilot they at least ‘pancaked’ into the mountain rather than flying headlong into it. The aircraft broke into 3 major pieces in several feet of snow, mowing down literally acres of large pine trees. After successfully exiting the wreckage, Dad and his Engineer Maj. Rocky Smith returned to the aircraft many times to extricate the rest of the 11 man crew. Fire was everywhere and Dad and the other crewmen responded to their comrades screams for help until everyone was accounted for with the exception of one crewman who was nowhere to be found. Two days later the weather cleared enough for AF Para Rescue to drop into the crash site and get some helicopters in to take out the injured and the dead (two crewmen died in that crash). Dad refused to leave the scene until the missing crewman was found, an inspecting officer fell through a hole in the snow, and heard some serious cursing going onseems the missing crewman had been buried in the snow with both legs broken and a large I-beam pinning him down so he couldnt escape. According to Dads recount of the story, that crewman was using all manner of artful language to describe the officer who inadvertently wound up standing on his head. Once all the crew was accounted for Dad allowed himself to evacuated from the site. Ground Control Approach was later found to be at fault for the accident and Dad was exonerated. The next several Christmass were a little leaner for the now 3 Schoeffler kids, but it was OK because we knew that the children of the two dead crewmen also had a Christmas due to Mom & Dad. While at Carswell Dad earned his second Distinguished Flying Cross, it seems that while on a cross country mission during which they had considerable hydraulic and engine problems, upon return to Carswell they could not get the landing gear down on the B-36. Dad sent the engineer Maj. Rocky Smith (.d) to check things out, and then turning over the aircraft to the co-pilot went to assist Major Smith in attempting to repair the system in some fashion so they could get the gear down. They were eventually successful due to Rockys intimate knowledge of the aircraft and systems, his capability of ‘rigging’ things and several rolls of toilet paper! I cant explain it all, but the toilet paper was the key that allowed them to put down the gear and make a safe landing at Carswell. During the 12.5 years Dad spent with the 7th Bomb Wing one of his favorite events was his stealing of the XC-99 from Kelly Field, Military Airlift Command at the behest of one General Curtis LeMay. Armed with bogus orders, he and his crew were flown to Kelly in San Antonio where the XC-99 was the pride and joy of MACs Commanding General. LeMay wanted the airplane and as CG of SAC (Strategic Air Command) he felt it should be a SAC airplane since it was a highly modified B-36. LeMay and the MAC CG had been arguing and fighting over the aircraft for a long time and when LeMay found out he was going to be away from Kelly, he called down to Col. Parker then the Commander of the 7th Bomb Wing to get a ‘volunteer’ crew to go steal it. Dad delighted in doing the job and till the day he died was proud of the 3 + hour entry in his log book. Fortunately LeMay stood behind and defended Dad and his crew so no bad results were forthcoming. On another occasion Dad was flying over Florida where there are numerous Naval Air Stations. A Navy Air show was taking place down below, (in its time the 36 flew higher than any other US aircraft) and Dad had tuned into the radio frequency on which the Navy was controlling the show. He heard a few disparaging remarks being made about the Air Force and the B-36 flying so high above. Dad was always a proud man and he didnt take kindly to having his branch of the service or his airplane talked about in such a manner. He radioed back to the Wing Commander, (again I believe it was Col. Parker, survivor of the Bataan Death March), and described what was going on at the Naval Air Station. The WC was also incensed and told Dad to go ahead and make a low pass to ‘show em what fer’. Dad flew off a ways and lost altitude and then lined that aluminum overcast up, announcing over the Navy radio frequency to clear the way that a B-36 was coming over at 500 or so feet. He roared over that field, applying full power to all ten engines and caused quite a ruckus.again, General Curtis LeMay to the rescue as he stood up to the irate Navy Admirals who wanted Dads head! In 1958 the homely B-36 was left behind by modern technology and Dad transitioned to the brand new B-52 at Castle AFB, in California, then returned to Carswell, the 7th Bomb Wing and Fort Worth until 1960. While at Fort Worth, Dad had become Commander of the 9th Bomb Squadron, had been the Stanboard Pilot for the Wing at many times, and had also become Deputy Commander for Operations of the Wing prior to our departure. In 1960, Dad was assigned to the Air War College in Montgomery, Alabama at Maxwell AFB. Classmates included Chuck Yeager, Robbie Robinson (who later spent several years as a POW in Hanoi) and Wichitas own beloved Jim Jabara. Lt. Col. Jabara and Dad really enjoyed each others company and had a mutual respect. A few years later when Col. Jabara was killed Dad was very upset. Following graduation from Air War College, Lt. Col. Schoeffler refused an assignment to the Pentagon, requested an operations/flying post and got command of the first Squadron of B-52 H models to be delivered to the Air Force. This was the 379th Bomb Squadron at Wurtsmith AFB in Oscoda, Michigan. During his time at Wurtsmith, Dad became DCO for the B-52 Wing there, and later on became the Division Operations Officer as well. Both were considered ‘heady’ posts for Light Colonels. In 1965 Dad was transferred to Barksdale AFB, Bossier City, Louisiana, in July of that year he swore me into the Marine Corps and I left home basically for good. 1966 saw him make full Colonel and get his Eagles. A milestone for a country boy from South Louisiana with no college education; by this time he had more than 20 years and could have retired as a full Colonel at the young age of 42. In 1967 upon my return from Vietnam, Dad received orders to Tan Son Nhut, Saigon where he was to be assigned to Gen. Westmorelands staff to coordinate the B-52 operations in country. The day after he got the orders, a phone call from Lafayette brought him and me to his boyhood home. His mother had been diagnosed with cancer and exploratory surgery was being done. When the doctor came out of surgery he indicated there was no hope, Grandmas body was riddled with the disease. Dad had to be the one to tell her when she came out from under the anesthetic, his Dad was already seriously ill, and while yet at home had a special diet he had to follow and Grandma was his primary caregiver. With tears in his eyes Dad told his Mom what was happening to her, he told her he was going to refuse his orders and retire, come back to Lafayette and take care of her and Pop. She looked his square in the eye and told him ‘you do what you have to do, these doctors not so smarty as they think, I be here when you get back’. Her accent was thick, her voice was like cold steel, she meant it, Dad really had no choice.he had to acquiesce to his Mother. She was waiting for him a year later when he returned, still taking care of her ill husband and Dads younger brother who was going through some hard times. He inherited his backbone, drive, pride and insistence for excellence from those two old Germans who were so proud of him. At Tan Son Nhut, Dad was involved in target selection and operations planning for the B-52 Arc Light strikes. These strikes are one of the most impressive things I have ever seen; it was still the era of ‘dumb bombs’, although unbeknownst to but a few, early smart bombs were being developed. For miles around a 52 strike the ground would tremble and shake as if a mild earthquake were going on. Dad decided that onsite bomb damage assessment would be a good tool, so he bought a Yashica Super 8 Movie camera, some film and found an Army Helicopter Pilot who was willing to fly Dad down into the drop zone immediately following a strike. They would fly at about 1500 feet approximately 3 clicks (kilometers) out from the target area and you would see the jungle canopy from above, suddenly large puffs of smoke and flame would erupt from the jungle, and a perfect rectangle of destruction would form in the camera lens. Acres and acres of jungle and the enemy below destroyed in a few brief, terrible seconds. Once the smoke cleared enough for flight visibility below, Dad would instruct the Army WO to take her down below tree top level at times so he could film the results of the action. His pioneering of this led to an official Air Force program of a similar nature for the balance of the war into the 70s. As the war progressed the Arc Light strikes were expanded into Cambodia and North Vietnam, Dad remained heavily involved with them after leaving Saigon, first at the Pentagon, and then at SAC Headquarters once he made General in 1972. He was always a leader of men, and not so much a ‘pusher’ of them, and like all truly great leaders he was willing to do what he was asking his combat crews to do. As a full Colonel he voluntarily flew combat missions in the B-52 over Vietnam, his exploits in the Army chopper were also combat missions, as on occasion they received and returned enemy fire during them, this included Dad grabbing an M-16 and firing out of the door of the Huey when they were attacked. In the later years of the war, Dad was especially proud of the fact that the B-52 had played a major role in getting the North Vietnamese to the table in Paris where negotiations to end the war took place. He was also very glad to have supported my fellow Marines at Khe Sanh so vigorously with Arc Light strikes around their position, while they underwent the terrible siege that is now a much revered battle in the annals of the United States Marine Corps. 1969 saw Dad at the Pentagon after surviving the Tet Offensive at Tan Son Nhut, he was on the base when the attack occurred, and was able to secure an M-16 for his own protection. Whether or not he had to use it, I do not know. Christmas of 1972, I was visiting Mom and Dad with my new bride of just a few months in Arlington, VA. Dad had been working on his work car a Volkswagen station wagon and was off on a test drive. A call came into the house from the Navy Admiral (I cannot recall his name) who Dad worked directly for as an Air Force Colonel. Mom hung up the phone ashen faced after taking the Admirals call, and told me to see if I could go find Dad, the Admiral was mad as hell that Dad wasnt at home and available by phone as he was supposed to be although he would only be gone a few minutes on the test drive. I was leaving when Dad drove up, and I informed him the Admiral was pretty upset and he needed to call him. Dad could be irritated sometimes easily and was not always a patient man, and had been known in the past to ‘politically incorrectly’ as they say today let even his superiors know it. He made the call, as I stood nearby, wanting to see the fireworks because Dad had ‘that look’ in his eye. All of a sudden Dads face burst into the biggest smile I ever saw, it had all been a ruse by the Admiral, and he wanted badly to be the first to tell Dad he had been selected for Brigadier General! He felt it his right as being Dads boss and a 3 star to boot, but also knew that since the promotion list had just come out, very soon congratulatory calls would be coming in from all over the country, so he made sure his would be the first phone call returned! After being confirmed by the President in his new rank, Dad was transferred to SAC Headquarters at Offutt AFB, Omaha, Nebraska. In 1974 Dad had a tumor removed from his brain at the Air Force Hospital in San Antonio; this permanently grounded him from flying forever. His face was partially paralyzed as a result of the surgery, but he was determined to regain control over the muscles. He tried to whistle, his eye would weep uncontrollably the side of his face hung down. Day after day he tried to regain control without much success, finally one weekend after a visit a bottle of Jack Daniels was left in his room. He had always liked a beer or a drink or two as most of the pilots I met in my life did, and he indulged himself, perhaps overly that evening. The next morning I had a phone callhis face was where it belonged! No more weeping eye, no more hanging slack jawed..determination? Jack Daniels? I believe it was a combination! Retirement came at Offutt AFB, Omaha, Nebraska in 1975, his long love affair with the Air Force, flying and airplanes coming to an end. Unfortunately his long marriage to Janet Johnson Schoeffler (.d) of Bryan, Texas came to an end in that year as well. That marriage produced 6 kids, Clifford Terry (the author of this), Janet Estelle, Lisa Melanie, Rolf Christopher (.d), Eric Reid and Gretchen Lee, DVM, Schoeffler. After leaving the Air Force and a short sojourn in Houston, Texas, Dad went to work for Boeing Aircraft in Wichita. His last job with Boeing was being put in charge of delivery of the new Air Force One to then President Ronald Reagan. After retiring from Boeing Dad did contract work for Beechcraft for a considerable time in another executive position. Dad re-married a wonderful woman Judy Womack Schoeffler, who had two sons by a previous marriage that Dad loved as his own, Jim and David Mulligan. With Judy and at the age of 55 Dad became a father again with the birth of Heidi Schoeffler. Dad was a very lucky man, but he made a lot of his luck. He had two wives who both loved him deeply, 7 natural children who loved him deeply, and two step-sons that love him still as we all do. He made many wonderful and close friends throughout his life and career, both officers of the military, enlisted and civilians, he made friends wherever he went. If you were his friend he would do anything for you, if you were his enemy..beware, but do not worry about him coming at your back, because he would come ‘head on’ and full speed ahead. He loved his country with a passion matched by few, he put himself in harms way for its benefit on many occasions, he did this gladly as well as efficiently. He was active politically, he loved a good debate and although he would listen, sometimes it was with impatience if he disagreed with you! He wrote letters to Congressmen and Senators, the news media, he let his voice be heard. Some of the projects he was heavily involved with such as Project Broken Promise came to success partly because of his diligence and willingness to pitch in with others to make a difference. This has been a very long treatise, it was not my intention when I sat down, but things kept pouring into my head, and I added ‘just a little bit more’. If I have bored any of you who read this, I apologize, it may seem braggadocios to some. At 59 years of age, I can only say, Ive earned the right, at least in my own mind. A lot of what I have put down here has been for the benefit of grandchildren and great-grandchildren both here and to come, so they will know their grandfather, some of what I have written might be unknown to some of his own younger children or friends. Dad was not much of one to speak of his own deeds, although when questioned by the right folks, at the right time with perhaps a little whiskey or beer thrown into the mix, he would be willing to tell some stories, just as his father had done before him. I love you Dad, we will miss you..even the cantankerous parts of you! Semper Fi Terry