Archived News Story: Search continues for 2 crew members in Navy plane crash

 

UPI ARCHIVES

AUG. 18, 1985

Search continues for 2 crew members in Navy plane crash

TOKYO -- Rescue crews Sunday searched for two missing crewmen from a U.S. Navy plane that plunged into the northern Arabian Sea while trying to land at night on the aircraft carrier Midway.

Ed Evans, spokesman for the U.S. Forces in Japan, said three crew members of the plane -- an E-2C Hawkeye early-warning aircraft -- were rescued from the water after the plane crashed during the landing attempt Saturday. It was not known whether they were injured.

Evans said search and rescue teams were looking for two missing crewmen, whose identities were not revealed.

The Midway operates out of a base in Yokosuka, about 25 miles southwest of Tokyo. Evans said the plane crashed during a 'routine' night operation.

40th Anniversary of the crash of Liberty 603

 

Liberty 603, and E2C Hawkeye part of the Liberty Bells Squadron VAW-115 crashed at 0200 on 17 August 1985.

Of the seven people aboard, five were rescued.

Haven’t seen you in almost 40 years!

With a whim of an idea to find a digital version of my ships cruise book, I discover a website with cruise books for just about every navy ship that’s sailed in the last 70 years. Suddenly, it’s not the Towers I want to find, but the carrier USS Midway. Maybe - I thought - just maybe the squadrons are included. As clicked through the pages I saw his name, Kuhnigk, and then saw his entire face for the first time. 

The U.S. Naval Aviator in this photo is one of my guys. A Navy Aviator  whose name I never knew until I started this journey not that long ago. 

August 17, 2025 will be the 40th anniversary of the crash of Liberty 603, and the loss of Lt. Kuhnigk, and Ensign Christopher Mims. 

If I’m to believe what I’ve turned up on the internet, Kuhnigk was one of the two in the cockpit, likely the co-pilot. Chris Mims was in the tech area of the aircraft in the rear. So this means it's likely Kevin is one of the men I saw in the plane, unconscious, water at their chests and rising. 

The co-pilot, Kevin Kuhnigk - is still out there. 

Fair winds my brother. Someday I will visit your granite memorial in California and leave a quarter, some tears, and a firm salute. But we will talk first. Not that we haven't done that a lot already, but somehow, standing there, I think it will feel different.

Finding this cruise book page led to a couple other discoveries. Memorial lists of all the Midway sailors lost durring a deployment in those years. My years. The years USS Towers was assigned to the Midway Battle Group.

The memorial pages contain the names of shipmates, pilots, air crewmen, and shipboard sailors, those who were lost to an accident of some kind, and those that either fell, or were so troubled they stepped overboard intentionally under cover of darkness. 

Each name on the list represents 3-days of SAR efforts by escort ships and aircraft.  We never found what we were looking for, but we wouold find their 'things.' 

Step one - to me - they are no longer nameless young men who were lost at sea. They are Steven Seitz, Christopher Hayes, and John Payton. 

 

Now in the next cruise book (below), there are more names. These are the ones I feel closer to - responsible for because in these years I was a surface rescue swimmer and not only searched with my eyes from the deck of USS Towers, but I also swam to anything and everything that could be related to what we were looking for. 

 

On one swim I retrieved a helmet of a sailor who was blown off Midway's flight deck, I also retrieved pieces of F-18's, pieces of gear, but never the person. The ocean it seems, just wants to hold on to them.

Reading the names now makes me wonder why.  Some were clearly aviators and lost in incidents with their aircraft. But not until the last few years could I process what would cause a shipboard sailor to simply "step off" their ship in the night. The circumstance of what sent them into the water isn't important - finding them in time and getting them back was the goal. We tried. I tried. We tried to bring you home. 

And with this new information fresh in my brain there is no sleep, as now there are names and stories for each of them - and their families - that I’ll never know.

And no, I do not believe I’ll try to learn more. It won’t change the fact that they’re all gone. 

 

These men were different. I never saw them alive... and I was always ready to swim to get them and bring them home. 

 

It's when you see them alive - and are not able to go get them - like with Liberty 603 - that haunts your thoughts for the rest of your life. 

 

After the Liberty 603 incident, I requested to be sent to Pilot Rescue Swimmer School.

 

I graduated in the top 3. 

I had many swims from Towers after that, none of them allowed me to use all my training. I never had the chance to deal with a pissed off pilot who just crashed his plane. Never had to cut a parachute loose at sea, just in training. Never had to dunk a combative pilot, or treat w wound before rescue. No faces - but today I have names.

 

Now, as for Liberty 603, Ensign Mims, I will continue trying to find your photo and more of your story as well as Kevin’s. 

 

Of all the men lost and mentioned here - I only saw the two of them - and it’s my mission to learn all I can and share the story so that more people realize the price of freedom often is paid in the mundane readiness of training. 

I will not let you be forgotten or abandoned.

 

Rest easy... I have the watch. 

 

Thank You Anonymous

I learned something new about the fate of the crew of the Liberty 603 aircraft incident today.  I learned it from a reader of this blog. So if you are reading this and you have first hand knowledge, please please share that. Even if you post as this person did, anonymously.  So for nearly 40 years I had thought both the pilot and co-pilot were rescued. You see while I know the names of the two we lost that night, I do not know their roles on that mission.  So when an anonymous commenter shares that one of the men in the cockpit was rescued and the other was not, that changes things. It also means that four of the five in the back got out. 

It probably doesn't seem like much, but it re-shuffles the pieces, the sequence of how it all unfolded. 

My window of seeing this aircraft was not a long one. Long enough and yet not. 

Any and all pieces of the puzzle help. 

Thank you anonymous commenter.  

The Search for More Information

Below is a note from John Clubb, about his friend Ensign Chris Mims an OCS classmate and shipmate. Mims was aboard Liberty 603, an E2C Hawkeye, when it crashed into the sea during night flight ops from the USS Midway in the early morning hours of August 17th 1985.

In 2014 I stumbled on John's writing about his friend from OCS while digging around on the internet to learn anything I could about what happened that night, and more about who these men were. First, it was the USS Midway mention and how he could not look at it - that caught my eye. When I saw the name 'Mims,' I paused, I was about to learn more about at least one of the men we lost that night.

For those who don't know, I was fairly new aboard the USS Towers, and was rousted out of my rack in the middle of the night by someone shouting, "get on deck, aircraft down, rescue stations..." or something like that. I don't think I truly woke up until I stepped through the hatch and saw something that my mind wrested with processing. An E2C aircraft afloat next to the ship, seemingly close enough to touch. What took a moment longer to process was two men still in the plane, water chest deep. They were unconscious.

Fast forward through the drama of the minutes that followed. Five of the seven men aboard that plane were rescued, two were lost, Chris Mims and Kevin Kuhnigk. Both were lost and presumed dead, their bodies never found.

Kevin was a high school football star from Nebraska. A headstone located in Bakersfield CA, marks an empty grave. His mother died a few years later, and is buried near his headstone at a cemetery in Bakersfield CA. His father lived until the early 200's. I have not been able to find more than that.

In 2014, while digging for information on Chris Mims, I found a post from John Clubb, Chris' AOCS classmate. I sent an e-mail, and we connected and later talked on the phone through tears a few times.

Here is what he wrote about his AOCS classmate and friend, Chris Mims:

“It's been thirty years now Chris. Jack, Pat and I still miss you. Jack can't drive by the Midway without turning his head away because to look at her is to be reminded of his lost brother. I've reached out to Pat and he won't return my phone calls. I don't take it personally because I know that to talk to me would bring his own pain crashing back into his life. Heartbreak by association. To look at us you would have never believed Kentucky, Texas and South Carolina boys would adopt an obnoxious Brooklyn boy as their brother. But we did and then we lost one of the best parts of our new family. In the crucible of naval aviation training our bond was formed in sweat and stress and it can't be broken. Pat will come around someday and we will pick up where we left off. Jack is quiet. I forgave you for leaving me. They still struggle. My first real and true brother. We've been mad not because of us but because we wanted you to still be here with us. Older paunchy men talking about the glory days and still busting on each other like we did in Jack's BOQ room every Friday night. We wanted you here to share our lives with you. Good, bad and ugly. We were loyal to each other and we still are."

"With God's weird sense of humor I can only imagine he put you in charge of his docks and his boats. But knowing you, you're wearing a bright yellow life vest just in case you fall into the water. You won't take it off until you with your New York sense of mistrust get it in writing that you won't drown again."

"Thirty years is a long time for the waves of pain to still come crashing into my psyche. I think it's finally done then I walk down to the Midway in San Diego and I think about you in that big ocean at night alone and the tears start again. I won't go onboard the Midway yet. To stand where your airplane left the deck for the very last time would be too much. Maybe someday."

"There is lots to laugh about in my memories of you. The nasally irritating voice, the inability to drive because you grew up on subways and city busses, the insistence on driving while all of us hung on for dear life. The way you and Jack went at it with your baseball and football team loyalty. We would give anything to have that again. We will be together again and we will in unison yell, 'shut up Mims'. Until then watch over us.”

I told John that Chris was not alone that night. Everyone aboard Towers was there, ready to rescue and silently praying they'd find a way out.

I have since learned all of us there that night carry a piece of Liberty 603 within us. Some days it hurts more than others.

Hurt because we were not able to bring them aboard.

Hurt because, despite knowing why we couldn't do more - we will always feel like we should have.

Fair winds and following seas Kevin & Chris.

I write this and created this so that it does live on - somehow to be found my some, or many some day in the future and their names and story will survive.

Not all American military losses happen in combat. Some are lost while standing on the front line of freedom.

The cost of our freedom is extraordinarily high, it always has been and always will be.

Those who have seen that price paid in person will never forget, nor should any American.

Some Days….

 ...are a struggle.

I just want to quit dealing with people and their crap. 

Once you are pinned down in life and death choices,  and have to live with what you did in that moment all this other crap seems so ridiculous. 

All I want to do is run away with my love and live life, be free and experience sights, sounds and feelings of awe and appreciation. Quietly.

The fact that I can't, and need to continue getting up and going to work - and continue to have to be there for others... when all I want is to be there for her and for me - and our family.  

Not punching a clock, or answering to others needs.    

It’s so freaking frustrating to reach a certain age and still be beholden to economic and societal structures just to pay bills for things that I really don’t want anyway. 

And some of these people… I just want to punch them in the throat. 

They're all twisted up for the most ridiculous reasons. 

Relax already.  

Damn I’m tired. 

Riding a Wave

I am not a surfer, but I do kayak and know the feeling of riding a wave well. It’s fun and exhilarating as well as a tad bit dangerous all at the same time. My secret that I share today is that every day I feel this way. 

I’m incredibly lucky, I have an amazing wife and partner, great kids and grandkids, and my dream job all here in my 6th decade of life. I’m grateful for that, I am. But I’m also fully aware that I am riding this wave and thus while joyful about the life I have, I am also awaiting the moment of that inevitable crash where the wave gets the best of me. 

Life frustrates the crap out of me these days. I want to relax and enjoy life - yet I have to keep working just to afford the life we have. It’s probably a good thing. If I stop working then the balance I have on this wave right now would likely be lost and that equals a crash.  Yet trying my hardest to have fun now - the crash thought is always there. 

Starting in childhood I struggled with not being good enough to deserve what I have. Made worse by a military experience that includes the ugly reality of certain situations.I find some ground knowing that everyone struggles to some degree with something. Well, most do.

My fear these days is I’m getting so tired of the juggling and the demands of time. Time, my time. Yet I’ve given away so much of it over those 60 years - and now I am taking control of it.  But will it help? Will it keep me balanced on this wave? Or will it throw me off?   

I’m tired. I’m tired of doctors. I’m tired of paying bills and mostly I’m tired of people outside my small personal circle imposing demands on my time. 

So change is in the air.  I’ll keep a paddle in the water as I try to navigate spending more time alone with me. It’ll be a gradual process - since that’s the only way to not tumble from the crest and get dragged through the sand on the beach. 

Deep breath. 

Lets go. 

I just heard this...

 

It took my grandchildren for me to realize this. 

Loud noises, expected or other, but especially yelling and screaming are a trigger for me. 

I love these kids. They are two boys 6 and 8 years old. Yes it gets loud and yes there is screaming. To them it is fun. I have been incredibly grumpy about it - I know it - and they know it.  

 

My realization started during the super bowl, at their house. The TV was incredibly loud, and the boys were having a great time, mom, dad and grandma were all jumping in to play with them from time to time, the laughter, the shouting, the TV, and me? I was overwhelmed and pretty much unable to engage with anyone. I tried, but I felt like I was on an island. Was I the only one unable to function because of this?  I so wanted to shout - QUIET! But I couldn't. It wasn't my house and everyone else was behaving as if it was all OK.  Mental note made. I have an issue with noise. 

 

Last week, in a meeting at work the team started to discuss and debate a point in a meeting and it was talking, and people talking over other people and to me it seemed like madness,  I jumped in to stop it, to stop the noise, with a voice I thought was required to get their attention. It got their attention but from the looks on their faces - maybe I was too loud? Maybe I was out of line.

 

Days later someone referred to it as when I yelled at them. I certainly didn't think I yelled at them. But hey, OK, whatever, their truth is, I did and I can't and wont argue that.

A few days later we hosted a large educational event for middle school kids at an indoor pool. I found I could barely stand to be in the pool area because of the noise. The echo. Clearly this is me, as there are dozens of other adults here and they are just fine. 

 

I took a break to the meeting room where a team was being judged while they did a presentation. Moments later another group of students burst through the door and started grabbing their things and leaving. I went to the door, asked them to get their things and leave as there was a team in here doing their presentation and they deserved not to be interrupted. Later I was told they reported to a member of my staff that I had "yelled" at them. I asked another staffer that was present it I yelled, and they kind of rolled their eyes. Shit. Seriously, am I having angry outbursts and not realizing it? In my mind it's not angry, and I'm not yelling. But if they see it as that - then my perception is clearly wrong.

Now the grand boys are here for an overnight. I am stand-off-ish, Then the inevitable scream happens and in that millisecond - as I draw breath - I can see scenes from decades of my reactions to my boys (I had two of them 14 years apart).  My go-to reaction has always been to shout back, louder and with anger.  Boys, one reminder isn't going to accomplish much - so there are more - and my anger would often explode. I caught myself, and said, Hey Opa asked for no screaming.

In that moment of last night's scream and ensuing flashbacks of angry outbursts and extreme discomfort in loud environments - the realization is that my reaction is out of line, not the scream. 

Like at the super bowl gathering, I remain quiet. I asked that there be no yelling, and when they did, I reminded them of their saying they would not yell. It made a better evening experience for me - but not for them, and that's when two things hit me. 

 

Why is my reaction what it is, and I had done this to my sons and my partners for decades. I have over reacted in anger to noise. Consistently.  Which has a funny side as my sailor hearing is pretty bad and I often take to leaving my hearing aids out as to keep the noise level lower. I hate wearing them because they amplify everything. So simply wearing them takes me instantly to another level of stress. But hey, there's work and I have to do what I have to do. 

 

So this morning I start reading about noise and PTSD because I question if it could really be the trigger that it seems to be. I find a lot, including;

Heightened Anxiety and Panic Attacks

For someone with PTSD, difficulty tolerating sounds means that loud noises can cause an immediate spike in anxiety levels. The brain perceives the noise as a threat, flooding the body with stress hormones like adrenaline. This response can escalate into a full-blown panic attack, marked by rapid heart rate, shortness of breath, sweating, and a feeling of impending doom.

Sleep Disturbances and Sound Sensitivity

Loud noises can interfere with the sleep of PTSD sufferers, further exacerbating symptoms. Sudden sounds during the night can jolt individuals awake, leading to nightmares or an inability to fall back asleep. Over time, these sleep disturbances worsen mental and physical health, contributing to chronic fatigue, irritability, and heightened stress.

Emotional Dysregulation

Loud noises often provoke an emotional response and emotional dysregulation in individuals with PTSD, meaning they may struggle to control their emotions when triggered. A simple noise that may be insignificant to others can cause an extreme emotional reaction, such as anger, sadness, or overwhelming fear. This emotional imbalance affects relationships, work, and overall quality of life.

Heightened anxiety, and emotional dysregulation with an anger or fearful response. 

Could that be my trigger?  I'm not comfortable in loud environments - not. ever.  Even a concert with music I like makes me incredibly nervous, but I push through. It's not the expected noise, it is the sudden, unexpected, surprise loud noises that don't belong in that environment that trigger me. 

 

If we're in the house and someone suddenly yells or screams - I'm overloaded and just want it to stop.  Knowing it can happen again at any time - with no notice, now I'm ratcheted up nervous just waiting for it. That - NEVER ends well. 

 

So I read more. Now I know. Now I am aware. 

Now I am filled with regrets from a lifetime of subjecting the people closest to me to my angry responses. 

 

To my sons and their moms, I am incredibly sorry. To that one grandson who took a sailor's full on brunt anger response one night - I apologize again.

 

So now I know. Now I have to manage it, work through it.  Learn to live and keep this part of me in check.  The good news is over the last 24 hours with the grand boys - I did manage it. But I was too disconnected from them. I want to be closer and do more with them like I once did. 

 

I will get there just like with the rest of this journey, one step at a time.   

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = 

 

Associations matter: Your brain can form strong connections between seemingly unrelated stimuli and the emotions of a traumatic event, meaning even a sound not directly present during the trauma can trigger a reaction if it reminds you of the experience in some way. 

 

Hypervigilance: People with PTSD often have heightened sensitivity to their surroundings, which can make them more susceptible to being triggered by loud noises, even if those noises wouldn't bother someone without PTSD. 

 

Individual triggers vary:

What triggers one person with PTSD may not trigger another, and triggers can even change over time.

 

Listen... Know that help is out there. You need to show that strength you had in uniform and reach for it. You owe it to yourself and those who care about you. You deserve to live. You deserve happiness.

===================

My event. Yes there was yelling. I didn't really realize how intense that yelling was. I was standing alongside the swimmer who was ready to go.  My chief was next to him and behind Chief O'Connor was the sound powered phone talker. The Chief had requested to put the swimmer in the water via the phone talker... and was denied. Twice. Chief O'Connor lost it, and got angry, yelling at the phone-talker with a request to put the swimmer in the water.The phone-talker passed it all along. The answer was again, "Negative."

O'Connor grabbed the microphone off the chest of the phone-talker and yelled the request himself into the mic. As he let go, the Captain stepped out on the bridge wing and looked down at us, Chief looked up, and shouted - "God Damn it captain, request to put the swimmer in the water!"  The response from the captain includes a line that is in the movie Top Gun2 and was a surprise trigger for me . . . "NEGATIVE CHIEF, WE WILL NOT PUT A SWIMMER IN THE WATER UNLESS THEY MOVE - WE WILL NOT LOSE ANOTHER MAN HERE TONIGHT!" 

In case you're wondering, it's the "We will not lose another man" line that's in the movie. The moment I heard it, my stomach turned into knots, and I felt my body tense up and that dark cloud of sadness swept in.

It happened in seconds, maybe hald a minute.. and I always thought I never had a PTSD "trigger" - but clearly that line from the movie was one - and unexpected yelling seems to be another. 

 

I see a great therapist the VetsCenter in Green Bay.  If you think you have PTSD - ask for help, get help. 

It's the only way to learn how to push the darkness away when it comes. I am just now starting to see what can bring it. so If I am out in front of it - perhaps - perhaps - I can do better at staying away from it - or managing it when it's upon me.  You can do that too.