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something
     was gravely wrong. The tanker was descending much too rapidly and sideslipping directly toward the squadron building. He finally
     broke his paralysis and yelled for the rest of the crews to run. They reacted immediately and scrambled for the far side of
     the building.
    The jogger on the road stopped to rest, glanced back at the runway, and suddenly found himself in an actual race. A race with
     death. For the tanker, a military version of the venerable Boeing 707, was coming directly at him. He ran faster and harder
     than he had ever run in his life.
    Workers in the operations building across the field from the squadron were mesmerized by the sight of the mighty tanker, so
     completely out of control and rolling lazily on its side. Panic spread as they became aware that the aircraft would certainly
     land on their building.
    People returning from shopping or just arriving to shop in the BX stopped in disbelieving silence as they watched the silver
     aircraft making directly for them. It was most assuredly out of control. Confusion was on every face. It was almost impossible
     to understand what was happening to the tanker. There was no immediate panic. Some even walked a few steps closer to the flight
     line to get a better look.
    Everyone who saw the aircraft in the final moments of flight knew that a crash, a horrible crash, was inevitable. And they
     also knew in some primitive part of their beings that more than the crew would die in the wreckage. There was only one small
     open area near the runway. Only the little field. There was simply no way that the tumbling, careening aircraft could miss
     hitting at least one building.
    Flying airplanes is an inherently dangerous business and flying military aircraft is the most dangerous of the dangerous.
     The Air Force is a closely knit family, drawn together by adversity. When something as terrible as an aircraft accident happens,
     a well-managed support system swings into action almost immediately. When a husband, wife, son, or daughter is struck down
     in the course of duty, word of that disaster must come from a fellow member of the military family. Friends of the crew members
     spread out to give the sorrowful news and be there to help manage the grief.
    The base knew almost immediately that a KC-135 had crashed. Every wife who had a husband and every child who had a father
     that flew tankers waited in dread to hear. Who had it been? Who bought the farm? Who wouldn’t be coming back tonight?
    The wife of the boom operator, the regular member of the crew, felt a deep sorrow for the families of the other crew members.
     They were like her family. But she also couldn’t help feeling a secret relief, knowing that her husband was safe. He had been
     saved by a little cold, such a minor thing to owe your life to.
    She prepared to go to the squadron to see what help she could offer the survivors, the families of the missing men. As she
     started to leave the building she was surprised to see a friend coming up her walk with the squadron operations officer and
     the base chaplain flanking her. She was a little amused. They must have made a mistake. Her husband hadn’t been on that aircraft.
     He was safe.
    The crash was horrendous, instantly transforming the jet into twisted rubble. The JP-4 fuel in the tanks, enough to keep the
     aircraft airborne for several hours, ignited immediately on impact. The sound was a deafening roar. The impact was truly astonishing.
     And the wreck was astonishing in another aspect. Because, as impossible as it seemed, the aircraft missed the squadron building.
     It missed the operations building. It missed the Base Exchange buildings. In fact it missed all of the buildings where all
     of the people were waiting as if trapped, waiting to die. The aircraft came to rest in the only clear area that could possibly
     hold such a horrible event. It hit squarely in the vacant field.
    The mission planners in the squadron were singed by the