Send us a text a It was Saturday morning, February 20, 1943. The morning fog lay thick over the prairie of northern Texas and the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma, clinging to the fields and tree lines like a wet gray blanket. The sun had not yet burned through the mist, and visibility in a few places was little more than a few hundred feet. At this time of year, locals in the area—farmers, mostly—were used to crisp, clear mornings or the bluster of a winter wind. But this morning was d...
All content for Radar Contact Lost: The Podcast is the property of Dave Gorham and is served directly from their servers
with no modification, redirects, or rehosting. The podcast is not affiliated with or endorsed by Podjoint in any way.
Send us a text a It was Saturday morning, February 20, 1943. The morning fog lay thick over the prairie of northern Texas and the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma, clinging to the fields and tree lines like a wet gray blanket. The sun had not yet burned through the mist, and visibility in a few places was little more than a few hundred feet. At this time of year, locals in the area—farmers, mostly—were used to crisp, clear mornings or the bluster of a winter wind. But this morning was d...
When the First Tornado Forecast Emerged Amidst Aircraft Destruction
Radar Contact Lost: The Podcast
43 minutes
2 years ago
When the First Tornado Forecast Emerged Amidst Aircraft Destruction
Send us a textImagine a world where the word "tornado" is banned from public weather announcements and tornadoes are considered unforecastable. This was not Bizzaro World, but the United States of America in the 1940s. It was thought the the mere word, tornado, would cause panic and the mass hysteria would cause more death than the tornado itself. Meanwhile, U.S. Air Force weather forecasters were laying the ground work for the first tornado forecast after two tornadoes in five days tore acro...
Radar Contact Lost: The Podcast
Send us a text a It was Saturday morning, February 20, 1943. The morning fog lay thick over the prairie of northern Texas and the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma, clinging to the fields and tree lines like a wet gray blanket. The sun had not yet burned through the mist, and visibility in a few places was little more than a few hundred feet. At this time of year, locals in the area—farmers, mostly—were used to crisp, clear mornings or the bluster of a winter wind. But this morning was d...
