Kimberly's Flight

The Story of Captain Kimberly Hampton, America's First Woman Combat Pilot Killed in Battle

Anna Simon, Ann Hampton

• Publisher: Casemate
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9781612001029
• eBook ISBN: 9781612001142
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Military Biographies
• Index: History

"The story of an outstanding young woman who realized her ambition to rise in military, fly helicopters and lead soldiers into combat." — Independent Mail
U.S. Army Captain Kimberly N. Hampton was living her dream: flying armed helicopters in combat and commanding D Troop, 1st Squadron, 17th Cavalry, the armed reconnaissance aviation squadron of the 82nd Airborne Division. An all-American girl from a small southern mill town, Kimberly was a top scholar, student body president, ROTC battalion commander, and highly ranked college tennis player. In 1998 she was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Army. Then, driven by determination and ambition, Kimberly rapidly rose through the ranks in the almost all-male bastion of military aviation to command a combat aviation troop.
On January 2, 2004, Captain Hampton was flying an OH-58D Kiowa Warrior helicopter above Fallujah, Iraq, in support of a raid on an illicit weapons marketplace, searching for an illusive sniper on the rooftops of the city. A little past noon her helicopter was wracked by an explosion. A heat-seeking surface-to-air missile had gone into the exhaust and knocked off the helicopter's tail boom. The helicopter crashed, killing Kimberly.
Kimberly's Flight is the story of Captain Hampton's exemplary life. This story is told through nearly fifty interviews and her own e-mails to family and friends, and is entwined with Ann Hampton's narrative of loving and losing a child.
"This inspiring story of self discipline, leadership, patriotism and sacrifice should be required reading for a country far removed from the concept of total war. Even the war's staunchest critics will enjoy this unromanticized picture of heroism." — On Point: The Journal of Army History

CHAPTER 1

FALLUJAH, IRAQ: JANUARY 2, 2004

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Somewhere on a rooftop in Fallujah, a sniper was waiting, trying to blend in with the top of the building and hide from the two American helicopters flying above. His weapon was sighted on ground forces that had surrounded a riverside marketplace in the Iraqi city.

U.S. Army Capt. Kimberly Hampton and CWO (chief warrant officer) Donovan McCartney were flying low in an OH-58D Kiowa Warrior, a small, two-seat armed helicopter used for scouting missions. They knew the sniper was out there, somewhere. They scoured the urban landscape for any change in coloration, any hint of something out of place.

They knew they could take fire on this mission and never see the enemy take aim. Fortunately the enemy tended to miss far more often than hit its targets. The insurgents typically waited for the lead aircraft to pass and fired shots at the second aircraft from behind to avoid being seen from the air. Then they'd drop their weapons, blend into the general population on the streets and disappear.

Kimberly and Donovan realized they were stirring up a hornet's nest. Fallujah wasn't a nice place to be on the best of days. There were times when the infantry wouldn't even go into the town. Army intelligence had learned that black market gun merchants would be at the marketplace on the bank of the Euphrates River instead of the locals who usually sold food and textiles. Illegal weapons were laid out on the tables for sale in place of the usual bright-colored array of merchandise. American ground troops had surrounded the town so nobody could get out. The two helicopters overhead provided cover for American soldiers going in to seize the weapons.

Kimberly had been up before the Friday morning sun. They were supposed to take off at eight in the morning, but heavy ground fog delayed them for about an hour. It worked out all right though, because the ground troops they were covering were delayed as well.

As always, Kimberly had taken her long curly blonde hair out of the tight bun typically worn by women in the military and pulled it into a ponytail just before getting into the cockpit. The helmet wouldn't fit over her bun. She was commander of Delta Troop, 1st Squadron, 17th Cavalry, referred to as the Darkhorses, of the 82nd Airborne Division. She had such presence that Donovan tended to forget she was a female until he saw her hair down. When she finished flying, Kimberly always paused beside the aircraft and put her hair back up in the bun before moving on. She was the first female commander of this cavalry unit, but first and foremost she was a soldier and wanted to be recognized as such.

Donovan liked to fly with Kimberly. On missions, it was all business. Donovan usually flew the aircraft, as he did this day, while Kimberly ran the mission. It was a different story while they flew to and from missions. They'd sing old rock and roll songs to pass the time and sometimes Kimberly would take the controls. She could make the aircraft dance. She loved to fly, and she loved to lead her troops. As a commander she had the privilege of doing both and was confident and happy in her work. She was a natural leader and had complete respect from her troops without ever raising her voice.

Above Fallujah that day, they flew as they usually did, in teams of two helicopters, each team taking its turn in the air while the other refueled and rested. Kimberly and Donovan had completed their first flight, took a refueling break and were nearing the end of their second bag of gas, about 12:20 PM, when they felt an explosion. They were less than a hundred feet above the ground and starting on another inbound run toward the city.

“What was that?” asked Kimberly, who was directing the mission.

“I don't know,” answered Donovan, who was at the controls feverishly trying to keep the spinning aircraft upright.

The Kiowa Warrior was traveling at about 90 knots, about 103 mph, and took a couple of seconds to reach the ground. There was no panic in the cockpit. There was no time to be afraid or even realize what had happened.

A heat-seeking surface-to-air missile had gone into the exhaust system of the helicopter and knocked off the tail boom. It was a fairly sophisticated weapon compared to what typical Iraqi insurgents had.

The aircraft spiraled downward and smashed into a brick wall surrounding a date and apple orchard. It hit the wall nose down on the pilot's side, crushing the nose and dashboard in on them. Donovan lost consciousness. The helicopter rolled up under some trees. The infantry had to use a truck to pull the aircraft apart to get to them.

When Donovan came to, he was being pulled out of the aircraft by a big infantry soldier who told Donovan he saw the rocket-like missile fly into the air and hit them.

Kimberly was dead. She died instantly of injuries to her head and chest with little bleeding. That's when the miracles began.

Kimberly, age six.

CHAPTER 2

ANN HAMPTON: EASLEY, SOUTH CAROLINA, 1982

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Kimberly and our neighbor Sam Hinkie ran through the woods behind our adjoining back-to-back suburban homes and slid to the ground behind the Hinkies' woodpile. Bits of grass and red Carolina clay stained the knees of their pants as they crawled around the woodpile, dragging their plastic guns behind them. They were silent for a moment as the imaginary enemy passed. Then they scrambled across the yard on their bellies and climbed the nine steps to their hideout, a steep-roofed little playhouse that Sam's mother, Sarita, had spotted while shopping one day. It sat up above the ground like a hunter's tree stand, supported by long wooden legs. Army was their favorite game. They loved to wear Sam's father's old camouflage fatigues. One would wear the top and the other wore the bottoms. The arms and legs were long enough to trip over, but Kimberly and Sam didn't care.

It was time to call Kimberly in to clean up for supper, but Sarita hadn't called for Sam yet, so I decided to give them a little more time outside. Jack, our tri-colored collie, wagged his tail furiously as the children clambered back down the playhouse steps. Sarita waved Sam inside and Kimberly rolled in the grass with Jack and then laid her head on the dog's side, using him like a pillow. He licked at her blonde curls and put his paw across her.

The afternoon sun filtered through the trees at a slant. I paused at the window a moment more, freezing the picture of Kimberly and the dog piled up together in my mind before I disturbed them. I had waited so long for this child and now Kimberly was about to start first grade. Time was slipping by too fast.

I asked Dale out on our first date, a church hayride in 1960. We became high school sweethearts and dreamed of a family after we married, but no children came. A decade later we talked to doctors, considered adoption and Dale underwent surgery, but after twelve years of marriage our hopes had faded.

Then I went to my doctor with some female problems. In the middle of the exam, he told the nurse, “Break out the champagne!”

I didn't understand at first … then it hit me: I was pregnant!

I called Dale and was so overcome with emotion that all I could do was cry. Poor Dale was scared to death. He couldn't understand a word I said. Every time I tried to speak, more sobs came out. I finally calmed down and he realized what I was trying to say.

Kimberly came by C-section on August 18, 1976. My sister Louise and one of my friends tried to keep Dale calm in the hospital waiting room. I wasn't there to see Dale hold Kimberly for the first time. Hospitals were different back then. But Louise told me all about it. When the doctor placed Kimberly in Dale's arms, all he could do was walk around in disbelief, repeating “I can't believe it! I can't believe it!” over and over again.

Kimberly, age eight.

A few hours later, Dale and I walked from my hospital room to the nursery window and looked in. One of the nurses had pulled Kimberly's crib off to the side and was reading to her. Kimberly was born with a thick head of hair and was the only girl in the hospital nursery. I was sure that the nurse felt like I did … that Kimberly was the most beautiful baby there. My heart overflowed with joy. Kimberly was a miracle, a very special gift, and I had no doubt this baby came from God.

As a toddler, Kimberly seemed to fall down more often than other children. I was concerned and talked to the pediatrician about it.

“She'll probably never be able to run without falling,” she told me and recommended that I buy her some special corrective shoes.

I was heartbroken. I immediately bought the shoes for Kimberly: a pair of heavy white lace-up shoes with built up soles and heels. She fell less often, but she stumbled a lot in the clunky shoes. It hurt to watch her struggle, and I took her to an orthopedic specialist for a second opinion.

“Throw the shoes in the trash and let Kimberly wear tennis shoes or sandals or go barefoot,” the specialist told me.

Kimberly, eight, and her beloved grandmother, Ma-Ma, at eighty.

But his diagnosis was disturbing as well. He wasn't worried about Kimberly's feet. He was concerned about her back.

A few years later when she was in elementary school Kimberly was diagnosed with scoliosis, an abnormal curvature of the spine. I also have scoliosis, which tends to run in families, although I didn't know it then. It was only years later that I was diagnosed. After talking with the specialist I happily tossed the heavy shoes in the trash. Even at that early age Kimberly was such a determined child, and before long she was running and playing like any other child, without falling down.

My whole family doted on Kimberly. Everyone treated her like a little princess. She grew up surrounded by love and returned it tenfold with sweet hugs and kisses and a burning desire to please. My oldest sister, Frances, had three sons. Louise and my other sister Martha had no children. Kimberly was my mother's only granddaughter, and she was much younger than Frances's three boys. My mother always called her the baby or Babe, and Kimberly called her Ma-Ma.

Kimberly and my mother shared a special relationship. I'd watched my mother struggle with loneliness for four years after my father died. To say I'd worried about her would be an understatement. Kimberly's arrival gave her a new lease on life. The sun came out and the clouds of loneliness lifted.

Ma-Ma kept Kimberly during the day when Dale and I were at work and became...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• CONTENTS
• Dedication
• FOREWORD
• CHAPTER 1: FALLUJAH, IRAQ: JANUARY 2, 2004
• CHAPTER 2: ANN HAMPTON: EASLEY, SOUTH CAROLINA, 1982
• CHAPTER 3: A SECOND CHANCE
• CHAPTER 4: TIME TO FLY: 1998–2000
• CHAPTER 5: PILOT IN COMMAND: 2000–2001
• CHAPTER 6: THE CAPTAINS COURSE
• CHAPTER 7: AFGHANISTAN: NOVEMBER 2002
• CHAPTER 8: A CAVALRY COMMAND
• CHAPTER 9: KUWAIT: SEPTEMBER 2003
• CHAPTER 10: IRAQ: SEPTEMBER 2003
• CHAPTER 11: BIRD DOWN: JANUARY 2, 2004
• CHAPTER 12: EASLEY, SOUTH CAROLINA: JANUARY 2, 2004
• CHAPTER 13: A FLAG-DRAPED COFFIN
• CHAPTER 14: REDBIRDS, DRAGONFLIES, AND OTHER MIRACLES: EPILOGUE
• CHAPTER 15: IRAQ: 2010
• APPENDIX
• Acknowledgments