FORESTPORT T-33 SEARCH

The search for the T-33 that crashed out side of Forestport, NY in August of 1951 started with an e-mail.  The email stated "I'm so glad to have heard of this web site.  My father, Major Charles H. Imschweiler, while stationed at Otis Air Force Base was on a training mission I believe out of Rome Air Force Base on August 7, 1951 when his T-33 crashed and burned in a wooded area in Forestport NY. A Lt. John Carver was the pilot. Both were killed. I was 3 years old.  I would love to visit the crash site. I also would like to communicate with Lt. Carver's family. He was from Ann Arbor Michigan. My father was from Pottsville, PA.   Could you possibly help me?" 

When you start looking for anything, a lost airplane, a shipwreck, or whatever, you only need the date and about where the thing you are looking for happened.  My style may not work for everybody, but I'll try to explain it in case you are anxious to start looking.  I call it the 3 R's of a search.  The first "R" is research.  Once you find the date of your incident, like I did in this email, first thing you do is to head for the library.  Fortunately for me the Syracuse Newspapers are kept in microfilm, and the Syracuse University Library has several readers/printers.  I went to the library this past week and started to pour over the accounts.  You may have to start reading the papers for days or even weeks before your event happened if you are trying to study weather patterns that may help you in the search, but usually you hone in on the date in question. 

If you have a morning edition and a late edition check both papers.  Sometimes the microfilm will contain several copies of the same date, giving a early version and sometimes local sections.  Check everything.  I was lucky that the Syracuse news had several articles about the crash.  I also wrote to air force to get the official crash report.  It takes at least several weeks to obtain the report. and you have to pay for their time.  Usually per report it costs about $30.00.  Try to find the town near the crash site and see if they also had local papers.  When I researched shipwrecks, I had five or so papers I went through.   Don't stop reading the day they find wreckage.  If it's a big story, you may have reports for several days or weeks.

After research comes the reconnaissance phase.  You can do all the research in the world, but until you get your hands, and feet dirty, you can't test the theories you develop.  On September 18, I made my first trip to Forestport.   The plan was to leave at 8:30 after my wife went to a church function, but my dad called and wanted to have me make a trip to the solid waste recovery site.  It was toxic waste day, (my personal favorite), and he had to get rid of some old gas, etc.   He just had a gall bladder operation so I was happy to help.  Next I was informed my middle son, Tony, wanted to go someplace with his friend, and he wasn't going to leave until 11:00 or 12:00.  So I dropped him off on the way, and Dylan (my youngest, aged 7), a friend Mike, and myself took off for the Adirondack's. 

Dylan always wants to know how many blocks it is to get where we are going.  From our house to our camp (about 50 miles) I round it off to 6 blocks.  This is usually the number of exits on the highway.  If I told him it was 50 miles that number would always seem to long.  If I said we were going to drive 1 1/2 hours, too long again, so 8 blocks to the Adirondacks it was.  About a mile up the road Dylan asked when is it going to be 1 block, but eventually he nodded off. 

We were going from Syracuse along the thruway to Verona, then up 365 to Rt. 12.  We finally arrived in Alder Creek, and were only 3 miles from Forestport.  We wanted to ask around to see if anyone remembered a crash from 50 years ago.  Our first stop was to the local hardware store.  No one there new about it, but suggested we ask around at the Buffalo Head Restaurant.  We we about to enter phase 3.  The final "R" is restaurant.  Food is very important to the success of the mission.  Dylan wanted a big kids meal at Burger King, but said this place would be fine.  He ordered his grilled cheese and fries, and it was a burger for me.  We asked the waitress, and she thought some old timers at the local Diner may know about it.  Buy the way, the Buffalo Head had the best Grilled Cheese sandwich he ever ate.

At the Forestport diner we asked if anyone heard of the crash.  Next door someone said lived the retired fire chief who ran the station in the 1950's.  He did know of the crash and wrote us some directions where he thought it was.  Across the street we went to the firehouse.  They were getting ready for a parade in Old Forge, but Mike heard about us asking about the plane.  He had been asking around about the crash and said he could direct us to the general vicinity.   We all piled into my Chevy Lumina van.  The reverse only works when it wants, so I pulled up the driveway to the firehouse, and rolled back into the street. 

We went past the Buffalo Head, and took a right over the Railroad tracks.  We went down a few miles and took a left on to Bellingertown Rd.     We went down three miles until we came across an old sawmill.   Directly across from there was a swamp.  Mike said about 1/2 mile into the swap was where the plane went down.  He said the area was roped off for about two weeks after the crash, and most of the plane was carted away.  We brought Mike back to the firehouse and they all took off for the parade.

So ended our first day on Forestport.  We know just about where to start looking, and have narrowed.  The official crash report will fill in more of the gaps, and we will go from there.

October 2, 1999

The adventure today was a tiring one.  It's 7:00 p.m. and the day started well.  I got up at 4:00 to get ready to leave the house promptly at 5:00 a.m.  Mike Powell arrived at my house a few minutes before 5:00, and we hit the road.   We try to give ourselves a little more time to get to the spot before the team arrives.  I had forgotten the my new 1988 Ford Mustang had no heat, so the 2 hour drive proved to be a cold one.  It was 42 degrees outside when we left.  On the way I was running the day through my head, and wondered what the trail would look like.   We pulled into the Buffalo Head restaurant a few minutes before 7:00.  I assembled my gear and soon Paul Soderholm, and a friend Bob arrived as well as Mike from the Forestport Fire department.

From the Buffalo Head Restaurant it's only a short distance to Bellingertown road.  About 1.3 miles down there is an old logging road.  We pulled down the road and I was amazed how far down we were able to drive.  We got in position fairly soon and started our search for an old hunting cabin.  Apparently if we found the cabin, crossed Indian River, went to the flats, not the swamp or the hilly area and we would find the plane.  Soon after getting out of the car I saw signs of bears.  I saw three large, fairly fresh piles of bear poop.  Well at least we wouldn't be alone in the woods.  We looked around and could not find any sign of the cabin.

It was fairly easy to find Indian River.  This time of year it wasn't much to cross.  A good jump and you were on the other side.  We soon found ourselves in the general position we felt the plane to be.  There were obstacles though.  Heavy logging had been done in the area, and there was a very thick growth of pricker bushes.  In places it was impossible to walk through without getting sticked through your pants dozens of times.  As I survey my arms and legs I must have 30 or 40 scratches on them.  If the pricker bushes were not bad enough, there were downed tree limbs everywhere.  You could hardly see your feet under you.   As you walked around it wouldn't take long to get your feet tripped up.  I took several good spills walking around, and the last one was at the hunting camp.

Bob had spotted it and we investigated.  This was surely the camp we were looking for!  We now had a great spot to which to search.  We had already covered several miles in hunting for the camp, and now back out to search for the plane.  Paul had brought his daughters pet dog along.  We thought that if we were to give him the scent of aluminum that he could follow it to the plane.  After a while walking around a good looking, plane could be here area, we stumbled across someone's tree stand.

Paul wanted to test his climbing skills and soon was to the bottom of the structure.  We new that time was drawing short, so we continued the search.   At the bottom of the tree stand were several cans of Coors light, and we gave the scent to the dog.  Of course the dog did not know if she was to look for the aluminum or the guy who drank the beer, so it did not really help.  After a while we decided to make another sweep on our way in.  The T-33 was not really a large plane.  We were really looking for a needle in a haystack.  As we headed back we kept our eyes open, but to no avail.

On the way back we wondered if the Air Force removed the remains or would the plane be left for future generations to search for.  Mike Powell and I headed to Boonville, to look through their microfilm department.  We found the date, and there was certainly an article about the plane.  It stated that however that most if not all of the wreckage had been removed from the crash site.  We feel that there could certainly be pieces of the wreckage that had not been removed.  When I got home I called a Robert Coscomb from the local area.  His wife answered  the phone.   He was listed as being in the area at the time of the crash.  She remembered the incident very well, but recalled that the pieces of the plane were brought out of the site for a period of a few weeks.

We found the cabin today, and covered a lot of ground searching for a plane that little if anything is left of.  I hope that the family will still come up and come to the area of the crash.  I received a call from a John Carver of Ann Arbor, Mich. yesterday.  He wasn't a relative, but is trying to search court records for us to see if there are any family members there.  Channel 3 news did a story of our expedition.  They shared the story of the loss of the plane and helped to bring back the memory of the sacrifice the pilots gave.  I still have several people to talk to about the crash, and I'm still waiting for the official crash report.   If we hear any piece of plane is still there, we will return to the swamp near Forestport, NY and continue the search.

October 7, 1999

I received an email from Carol, the cousin of the daughter of Major Imschweiler yesterday.  The email included a photo taken at the scene of the crash.  The photo speaks for itself:

As soon as I saw the photo I remembered one thing, JFK Jr. saluting his father.  This photo was taken a decade before that time but is as powerful to me as that memory.  I remember being in first grade when I was watching the funeral procession of the fallen president.  My grandfather was crying, and even though I was quite young, I understood his feeling of loss.  People ask me why do we go into the woods and mountains to search for these lost memories.  My response will always be to help pay back a small fraction of what others have given to us.

I called Maxwell Air Force Base in Alabama yesterday.  They have located the official crash report of this accident.  It should have great detail about the crash, and hopefully the exact location.  The family is coming up this weekend to find the spot of the crash.  I know that many people make pilgrimages.   Some go to the holy land to see where their religion was found.  Some go to Los Vegas or perhaps to some ski resort in Colorado.  I know that Carol and Daryl are coming up to a spot where their lives changed forever back on that August day in 1951.   I know that when my own sister Sue Skinner passed away in a automobile crash in the early 1980's I was devastated.  However, as a young adult I knew that I could press on.  I would fight with my God about the reasons he took my sister so soon, and why it had to happen at all.  Looking at my children sleep at night, I can't imagine what they would go through if they lost their dad.  My wife had our two oldest children before we married eight years ago.  Their fathers chose not to be any part of their lives, and I chose to help fill the gap.  To all those that have lost their dad's in accidents like this, my heart goes out to you.

Friday October 8, 1999

Tomorrow will be back to the area of the crash of the T-33.   Last night I thought about a poem by Robert Frost.  It seems like when you're in the woods, searching and searching for something, this poem comes to mind:

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Major Charles H. Imschweiler

October 9, 1999

Today was the day I was to meet Daryl, the daughter of one of the pilots of the T-33 and Carol her cousin.  There husbands were coming with them and we were to meet at the Buffalo Head at 3:00 p.m.  Pete Davis and I went up and arrived at the Buffalo Head about 2:00.  We decided to get our feet wet and went back to the area of the crash site.  It only took 10 minutes to arrive back at the old Hunting camp.  From there we headed to the area where we believe the plane to go down.   We first had to go down an old creek bed, then back up to a flat area.  In a few minutes we were going through the prickers and downed tree limbs looking for any sight of the crash.  By 2:30 we figured we had better head back to the Buffalo Head.   We got back about 3:00 and started to look for two people we had never met.

Standing by the front door, we proceeded to look for cars with New Jersey plates and from Penn.  By 3:15 we were starting to get worried we would miss them.  By 3:30 every plate started to look like it was from out of state, and by 3:45 I told Pete we would kidnap any one with out of state plates and show them where the plane went down.  At 3:55 I went in the Buffalo Head to call home when I saw a Jersey plate approach.  It was Carol, and a minute later Daryl arrived.  We said hello, they everyone went in to get washed up.  We decided to all go in one vehicle, a van, with good ground clearance.  Only a few miles down the road we spotted Bellingertown road.   1.3 miles down on the right was the turn off to the old Christmas Tree Camp Grounds.  Daryl was not ready for the bumpy road.  The pot holes were about the size of a VW.  Downed power lines ran up and down the road from a heavy wind storm.   We had to cross a bridge that only seemed about 6 feet wide.  The boards were all broken and no side rails. 

We crossed that barrier, and went across sever other make shift bridges.  We parked at the deserted camp grounds and walked the half mile to where the old hunting cabin is.  No one was there, probably for the last 30 years.  We poked around there for a few minutes and then headed for the ravine.  I imagine Daryl thought it would be an easy walk in, but she was looking at a 20 foot drop.   "Just stay low to the hill", I said, as she started down.  She grabbed a fallen tree branch, and made her way down.  At the bottom was muck.   It was part of an old stream bed.  A few mucky steps across, then back up the other side.  If you walk kind of with a herring bone style, it's not too bad.   Daryl triumphantly made it up and told the others it wasn't too bad.  When everyone made it to the top, we were at the area the plane crashed.  In a few minutes of walking around we found a kind of crater, where we believe the plane had hit.   After looking around for a few minutes Daryl started talking of her dad.

Daryl, and Carol, and other family members had made a trip to France about 10 years ago.  France called to tell them the C-47 their father flew in W.W.II was in a museum there.  He flew troops during W.W.II, and to pay tribute, his exact plane was part of an exhibit.  This trip to the Forestport was like that trip to France.  This was a way to keep the memory of her dad alive.  Carol asked "Do you remember the sound of his voice?"  Carol said yes, that she could hear it in the voices of her uncles.  Daryl kneeled down in the crator and planted a flag for her father.  48 years earlier on that spot, Charles gave his life in service to his country, and lost his family.  Today the family returned to let him know that they have not forgotten.

Carol had asked do people have different reactions when they come back to crashes like this?  I said no,  they all act the same.  It is a strange kind of reunion.  If I had to re-write Robert Frosts poem "The road not taken" I might have said "Two spirits meet in a yellow wood".  We headed out a different trail, on where we did not have to go down the ravine.  What fun would it have been if we just walked in without any effort!  We walked out, down the trail to the van.  Daryl shared more memories of her father, and I had a better understanding of the man, not just the crash.  We headed down the road, and hit every rock on the way.  At least we'll have a few car parts to look for next time we come up.

Daryl offered to buy Pete and myself dinner before we left.   Pete, a non meat eater, had a bowl of tomato soup, and I had the best hamburger money can buy.  An email brought us all together, and a hike through the woods, and muck gave us a bond.  I'm sure we will all meet up again some day.  More research will unfold more of the story.  Thank you Daryl for letting me be a part of the reunion.