
Photo courtesy of Alaska State Troopers
The de Havilland Otter plane that crashed and killed Sen. Ted Stevens, 86, and four other passengers, left a fishing lodge owned by General Communications Inc., located on the Agulowak River north of Dilligham. The plane took off at 2 p.m., and about 15 minutes later crashed into a mountain in the Muklung Hills.
The four other people that died in the crash were: Dana Tindall, 48, of Anchorage, a GCI senior vice president; Tindall’s daughter, Corey, 16; Washington, D.C., lobbyist William Phillips, a former Stevens chief of staff; and the pilot, Theron Smith, 62, of Eagle River.
The four survivors are: Jim Morhard, a lobbyist, Willy Phillips, the 13-year-old son of William Phillips, Sean O’Keefe, Stevens friend and former NASA chief, and O’Keefe’s son, Devin. As of this writing all the survivors were recovering from serious injuries.
By Paddy Notar
Turnagain Times Correspondent
The 212 Rescue Squadron, 176th Wing of the Air National Guard conducts approximately 75 rescues annually. John Romspert is a Combat Rescue Officer with that group. He pulls victims out of wreckage all the time.
On Monday evening, Aug. 9, a call came in from General Communications Inc. that a plane carrying nine passengers went down in Dillingham. The Rescue Squadron only got the call after a friend of a friend at GCI, who confirmed the crash, was told to call the 212 Rescue Squadron phone number.
“The Alaska Air Guard Rescue Squadron deals with downed inland planes. It’s our specialty. Over the waters, it’s the Coast Guards,” Romspert said during an interview at the Millenium Hotel.
Romspert said there was no mention that Sen. Ted Stevens was on the aircraft. “We don’t get that type of information. We just know that people are missing or are in trouble and need help.”
When Romspert and his crew got to the plane crash scene on a mountainside in the Muklung Hills Northwest of Dillingham, the survivors had already been airlifted out.
He explained how the military can’t just come in and take over a situation, regardless of their expertise. There’s a system in place, he said.
“The troopers usually have the final say on how things work,” he explained. “They’re usually in charge of civilian situations like this. But this is our specialty.”
Having been diverted to Knik Glacier for the another rescue mission, confusion ensued over who should respond to the GCI call for aid to the Stevens crash, which created delays in the 212 Rescue Squadron getting to the crash site.
Romspert and his crew were originally heading towards Knik Glacier to help rescue a group of flightseers that had been stuck there for several days and were running out of supplies. But after another crew was dispatched on foot to Knik, Romspert’s team then took off to the Stevens crash site.
“You don’t know how bad it is until you get there,” he said. “You hear a lot of different things about the situation while you’re traveling there, but you don’t know until you arrive.”
He said it had been raining throughout the night in Dillingham and there was some jet fuel on the ground and the wings were broken off of the de Havilland Otter, “but you could tell it was an airplane.”
Romspert’s job was to recover the bodies of the deceased.
I asked him what it was like when he realized one of the dead bodies was that of Sen. Ted Stevens.
“I can’t comment on that,” he said. But his eyes told the story as he shook his head side to side and tried to give a half-smile. “I have a job to do. You do what you have to do. I try not to think about it too much. It doesn’t matter if it’s a person you don’t know or Senator Stevens. My job is to get their bodies out, get them home and help bring closure for their family.”
I asked him what a person with his job does when they have returned from an emotional and dramatic mission like this one.
“When you get done, after a situation like this, you do whatever you need to do in order to decompress,” he said. “You go workout, talk to your buddies, whatever it takes.”
When Romspert returned from the three stressful days of rescue missions and pulling bodies out of an aircraft, he said he went home and mowed the lawn.
People often times, don’t realize that the Air National Guard and others who save our lives also have lives of their own. Romspert is a father and a husband.
“Where was Ted Stevens’ body found?” I asked him. “Was he ejected from the plane?”
“I can’t comment on that,” he said. “It’s all part of the ongoing investigation. By law, I can’t release certain information. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell my wife. We didn’t have to move the plane around to extricate anyone, even though we will in order to recover victims.”
I was curious as to why there are no rules for flying with radar or requirement of certain instruments. After all, flying in the fog can’t be any safer than driving in it, unless you have instruments to help lead the way.
“Those are rules that the FAA has come up with,” he answered. “Most of the planes fly by VFR or visual flight rules. Only commercial planes, who are heading to Seattle or something like that, are made to fly by IFR or instrument flight rules.”
I asked what it’s like to carry a body bag out of a crash scene like this one.
“It’s heavy,” he said. “I know it’s a mother, father, sister or son in there. It’s somebody that used to be alive. You try to honor them in the best way possible. When I’m recovering a body, it’s personal. It’s not like some show on TV. I’m out in the wilderness, in the conditions I’m in, and it’s just me and the victim. You do your best to get them home regardless of who they are.”