Disbelief Yields to Shock, Grief Among Crowd

The Marines had set off thunderous explosives all morning out on the grassy field at the air station. So when a giant fireball erupted on the runway about 1:45 p.m., Debbie Coward thought at first that it was just another highlight in a day of amazing aerial feats.

Moments passed--slowly, painfully. Please , the 31-year-old Las Vegas woman remembered telling herself as black smoke enveloped the jet plane, please let it be a stunt . Please, let the pilot walk out of that inferno.

But for Coward and a half-million others attending the 43rd annual El Toro Air Show at the Marine Corps Air Station here Sunday, doubt turned quickly to horror as they realized that they had become reluctant witnesses to a fatal tragedy.

Onlookers surged against crowd-control barriers as Marine units raced to keep people away from the scene of the Sabre jet crash. Many pulled out cameras and binoculars to get a better look at what Marianne Valmonte, 28, of Fontana, remembered as “a trail of orange fireballs.”

Veteran pilots shook their heads in horror, concluding that no one could have survived the crash. Parents hugged their children, shielding youngsters’ eyes from the blaze. A few captured the action on video, selling footage later to local television stations. Some people wept openly, while others sat in stunned silence, a festive day suddenly and violently turned on end.

“Who was it?” some yelled. “What happened? What happened?”

“He crashed,” came the somber response.

“You just don’t want to believe it,” Coward, the wife of a ground communicator for the Air Force’s Thunderbirds flying team, said after the show.

This was supposed to be a festive day of beer and “war birds,” of carnival games for the kids and military nostalgia for the old folks. Instead, it will be marked for many by the gruesome image of a restored, Korean War-era jet belly-flopping into a ball of flames at the tail end of a routine vertical loop that pilot Jim Gregory had performed many times before.

“When we were watching, the plane was coming real low, and I said, ‘God, is it going to crash?’ ” said Carol Yamashita, 54, of Santa Ana. “For a minute, I thought it was part of the show.”

So powerful was the sense of disbelief among the crowd that some didn’t even seem to realize what they had just witnessed. As an adult wept next to her, one child, not comprehending the seriousness of the accident, said: “I didn’t see it--no fair! All I heard was a big old boom.”

Other small children restaged the crash with toy aircraft.

Even announcers on the base public-address system appeared to downplay the calamity at first, telling people immediately after the crash to get a drink or take a look at some of the show’s many aerial exhibits while military officials tended to “the incident.”

“This is something that happens once in a while. Do not worry,” an announcer said.

But quickly, the public announcements took on a graver tone as details of the crash began to emerge. “I obviously have to tell you, it doesn’t look too good from here,” one announcer said over the public address system.

Although Gregory was killed instantly, public address announcers did not confirm that fact for more than three hours, until after the last plane had landed and the show was ended. At that point, officials announced that the show would be dedicated to the victim, and they asked for a moment of silence.

The announcement only confirmed what many had long suspected. The absence of any ambulance sirens screaming away from the scene, the failure of the announcers to provide an update on the pilot’s condition and--most critically--the violent impact of the crash itself, all pointed to the conclusion that the pilot had been killed.

It was a grim realization.

“I can’t believe it--it’s like a dream,” said Jean Epperley of Ontario, as the wreckage still smoldered on the runway a few hundred yards away.

“We thought he was flying kind of low,” said Raul Faura, 29, of Pasadena, who came to the show with some friends. “I thought he was going to pull up, but he never did.”

Jose Mendez, 37, a truck driver from Baldwin Park, filmed most of the morning flight routines and had his video camera rolling during the jet crash as well. “I saw the accident, and I started shaking. But I said to myself, ‘You’ve got to keep filming,’ ” he said.

Mendez said he later sold the footage to three Los Angeles television station for a total of $400. Mendez said he also gave the military a copy of the tape for its investigation.

While some people filtered out of the air station after the crash, most waited for 90 minutes until military officials resumed the show. Many thought that was the right move.

“The pilot would have expected it,” said Ada Bora, 55, of Newport Beach.

Paul Arnold, a 37-year-old computer programmer from Anaheim, said that despite the initial shock of the crash, he was able to put it out of his mind once the show resumed.

“I really didn’t think about it. I was really emotional about it at first, but then I got over it real quick,” he said.

For others, however, the rest of the show brought a new wave of apprehension.

Each low pass, some said, brought with it the vivid memory of the Sabre crash.

“All right now, come up now,” Bri Valmonte, 30, of Fontana, said as he nervously watched the precision-flying Thunderbirds jets plunge toward the earth after a spiraling ascent. “I don’t want to see another crash.”

But the final jet did land safely, and many left the air station vowing to return for another show--despite the unsettling events of the afternoon.

Said Bora of Newport Beach: “It’s just too beautiful to give up.”

Air Show Tragedy

Pilot James Gregory’s F-86 Sabre crashed while he was attempting to perform a solo 360-degree vertical loop. Pilots at the scene speculated that he did not achieve enough speed to reach an appropriate altitude for the maneuver.

1) Maneuver begins, 20-30 feet above the ground.

2) Top of loop ideally at 4,000 feet, with minimum speed of 136 m.p.h.

3) Plane hits ground, bursts into flames.

4) Debris scatters 5,000 feet down runway.

Crowd area, quarter mile from crash

F-86 at a Glance

The F-86 Sabre, the U.S. Air Force workhorse fighter during the Korean War, was the first American-designed fighter plane with swept-back wings. It set a world speed record, 670.9 m.p.h., in September, 1948. The first model, the F-86A, was removed from production in December, 1950. The plane that crashed was a vintage craft built by Canadair under franchise from North American.

Manufacturer: North American

Wingspan: 37 feet, 1 inch.

Length: 37 feet, 6 inches

Height: 14 feet

Weight: 16,500 pounds, loaded

Maximum speed: More than 670 m.p.h.

Ceiling: 53,000 feet

Cruising range: 1,250 miles

Engine: General Electric J-47

Source: Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft, 1951-52

Accidents at El Toro Air Show

April 27, 1985: Civilian pilot M.R. Grossman, 55, and his passenger, Robert G. Arrowsmith, 25, were killed when Grossman’s small, privately owned AT-6 hit power lines and plunged into the base’s empty chapel.

April 25, 1988: Marine Col. Jerry Cadick, 45, suffered serious internal injuries and multiple broken bones when his F/A-18 Hornet crashed on the runway while performing a vertical loop.

May 2, 1993: Civilian James A. Gregory, 40, was killed when his F-86 Sabre jet plunged into the runway after he failed to pull out of a vertical loop.