Difference between revisions of "Tony Mason memories"

Revision as of 01:08, 22 April 2020

Tony was the british exchange officer who helped our teams tremendously. He went on to a distinguished career: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Mason_(RAF_officer)

But his time at the Academy could have been a career shortening one due to a car wreck where he was the driver.

Tim Hayes: As for Tony Mason's comments on the auto crash. I was in the car and distinctly remember that day. I was only doolie on the team in spring of 1970 and was in far back of the blue official station wagon, drowsing off around 4ish on a Saturday afternoon. We were returning from Denver. I remember waking up looking out the back. The car was swerving and I thought to myself, if it doesn't stop swerving, we're going crash. Next I know, I'm rolled up in a ball bouncing on my back as the car is sliding along on its top. It hit a culvert in the median surrounded (fortunately) by grass, which served as a ramp to propel the car up and spun it rightside to land on its wheels. I looked around, saw no glass in any window and jumped out the back, really scared to look at the six people who were in front. Miraculously, no one was seriously hurt. Paul Schunemann, who was sitting in the middle of the front seat had a small cut on his nose, but that was it. Don't remember much else. Some cars stopped and gave us a ride back to USAFA. Being a doolie, I wasn't in on much that was happening among leadership because of the accident. I do remember getting a Form 10 several months later from the Safety Office, writing me up for failing to put on a seat belt in a moving vehicle. Ironically, I had checked for seat belts and couldn't find any. It was a station wagon that had fold up seats that went the long way in the car. Apparently, they were there under the seats. I'm sure others can add to the story. If I remember correctly, Carl Stanberry was also in the car.

The story from Tony Mason: Many thanks (and warm greetings) to Tim for supplying further info on the I 25 incident. As you may imagine, the details are unlikely now ever to slip my memory. In my RAF career I survived three aircraft fires: two in the air and one on the ground. One was particularly spectacular when the port engine of a B57 exploded on start up and I didn’t need an ejection seat to hit the escape hatch and establish a world 50 yard sprint record. Never so frightened though as when I lost control of the Chevy station wagon.  Tim’s memory is very accurate. Here is the full story. I cannot recall the date, but nine of us were returning from a match in Denver unusually straight after the game because some of the cadets wished to get straight back for a squadron party that evening. So uniquely, no one had any beer, including me. We were carrying bags with the mat ch ball and spares, plus jerseys and other baggage.

The weather was dry and mild and I25 was quiet. As we trundled down the hill towards the small town of Castle Rock we began to overtake a car which was doing about 65. I moved out to overtake him gradually. As I drew level at about 70, (not 50, as I said in my response to Gary) the Chevy suddenly fish tailed violently and skidded, with the back end swinging back towards the other car. Technically of course you should steer into a skid, but that means for a few seconds your back end keeps going in the same direction. There was no barrier on the right hand side, just a very long drop down into the canyon and there was no way I could collide as one or both of us would have gone over the edge.

Simultaneously I registered that the north bound carriageway was some 15-20 feet higher than ours, separated by a grassy, concave median, which offered immediate sanctuary. I therefore made no attempt to stop the Chevvy veering on to it and accelerating down the hill. My relief was short lived, because immediately in front of us was a concrete drainage culvert, about four feet wide and three feet deep cutting across the median. The Chevvy dropped into it, hit the further front lip and took off, somersaulting through the air before touching down, and bouncing still on the median, some 80+ feet later, astonishingly on all four wheels but bashed on front, back and top.  It was very noisy, with each bang sounding louder than its predecessor, accompanied by the sound of broken glass  I was alleged to have shouted some inane warning but all I can remember was hanging on to the steering wheel which came back on the impact and pinned me firmly to the seat. I was conscious of bodies and bags flying around inside the car, a final massive bang and then total silence. For interminable seconds I thought I had killed everyone but did shout out apparently “Everybody out; fire risk”. I will never forget the relief of hearing the doors open and several voices. I never knew that Tim had climbed out through a window..

The smell of fuel saturated the air and I was not happy when I found that my door was jammed and I couldn’t move. And that is why I know Gary Read was on board, because he wrenched the door off its hinges to free me. And yes, unbelievably we all escaped almost totally unharmed, saved either by the safety belts (back two rows only) or the flying bags of balls and kit.

In due course- a bit vague about this- we were taken to the AFA hospital, checked and all released. I was interviewed by Major Henry Green of the JAG office: by dangerous driving I had lost control and written off many thousands of Dollars worth of Chevvy station wagon, and endangered the lives of 8 cadets while n the way back from a RUGBY MATCH. I was not surprised to be placed under Base Confinement pending the appointment of a Board of Enquiry and a near certainty of a court martial. How else could the Chevvy, on a dry road with no obvious danger have been written off? I knew I hadn’t fastened my seat belt because I thought there were only two on the front seat. Apparently my overtaking manoeuvre had been reckless in the extreme. Or had it? I reported for duty at DFH on the Monday morning and had a rather one-sided interview with Col Al Hurley head of the Department who indicated that the Board of Enquiry would begin within the next couple of days. Until then, I would carry on duties as usual but remain confined to the Academy precinct until further notice. When I returned to my carrel after my first afternoon class, Major Green was waiting for me. His manner had changed completely from the previous interview. We knew each other as family friends but I was still surprised when he greeted me warmly. This is the gist of what he said. Earlier that morning, the Academy had received a phone call from the driver of the car which I had overtaken. He was a doctor on his way to see a patient in Castle Rock. He had seen the station waggon in his rear mirror gradually approaching him as he drove at about 65mph. As the Chevvy began to overtake him, it suddenly swerved and mounted the median where he observed the subsequent impact. He stopped, checked that there appeared to be no serious injuries and reported the accident to the Highway Patrol in Castle Rock. He believed that something had gone seriously wrong during the overtaking procedure which was otherwise completely normal, and diffidently suggested that it might be worth examining the station waggon. Henry Green got the message and as part of his investigation, asked the Motor Pool to examine the vehicle and associated paper work. The results changed the inclination of the Board and certainly changed my future career prospects. The Requisition for the vehicle had specified for eight passengers, whose combined wight considerably exceeded the limit of that particular mark of Chevvy. I suppose if we had all been scrum halves, we might just have been legal, but in any case, that was perhaps an understandable oversight. The real problem however was that the wheels were undamaged and the nearside front tire had 15psi while the offside had 55. A combination of weight, imbalance, speed, incline and direction change, however moderate, had rendered the vehicle uncontrollable. I was completely exonerated; the Board of Enquiry was curtailed and a second one convened. That resulted in disciplinary action and removal of the officer in charge of the Motor Pool. At the DFH end of semester party I was presented with a green medal ribbon suspending a toy Chevvy Station Waggon. And, in response to Jim’s comment, to the best of my knowledge the Academy never publicised either incident or resolution. It certainly never reached Washington.

From Jim Russell: After one Coors Cup Final won by AFA, maybe Fall 1991, all the ruggers retired to a Capitol Hill, Denver dive bar called the Diamond, at 13th and Pearl, a very nasty part of town then; it was sometimes called the Red Diamond, because the neon diamond on the sign was surrounded by red lights. Anyway, it was a bar normally habituated by Native Americans, and they didn’t take too kindly to all these white American ruggers taking over their bar for the afternoon. Beer and drinks were flowing and things got a bit tense, with the Native Americans muttering, “You stole our land.” AFA’s English coach, Tony Mason, stepped right up to them and, in his very proper and very English accent, said, “I know exactly what you mean. They did it to us too.” The Indians paused to figure that one out, Tony bought all beers, and peace was restored.