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History

The first SR-71 pilot to achieve 900 hours, Lieutenant Colonel Ben Bowles, died

by Till Daisd March 24, 2022

In addition to receiving two Distinguished Flying Crosses and the Air Medal, Lieutenant Colonel Ben Bowles gained one of them for rescuing SR-71 #960

Lieutenant Colonel BennBowles, a former SR-71 pilot, passed away on June 1, 2019. His birthday was January 14, 1932. He collaborated closely with Kelly Johnson, one of the SR-71 Blackbird’s five original designers, to create a number of high altitude/high Mach flight-related advancements. Ben was the first pilot to fly the SR-71 for more than 900 hours while carrying out highly classified reconnaissance missions.

Lieutenant Colonel Ben Bowles, first SR-71 pilot to reach 900 hours, has passed away — *Lieutenant Colonel Ben Bowles*

Britt Blaser, former KC-135Q pilot remembers: “I was fortunate enough to serve as a KC-135Q tanker pilot at Beale AFB from 1968–71. We alternated 12 weeks at Beale and 6 at Kadena AB, Okinawa. On my first rotation to Kadena, I was looking forward to renewing a slight acquaintance with Major Ben Bowles, who at that time had more ‘Habu’ hours than anyone. When I reported to the SR HQ, everybody was excited about a picture Ben’s SR had snapped the day before – the nose cone of a SAM directly below, filling the frame of the photo.

But that’s misleading. Since the camera could differentiate patio furniture on a deck, a SAM 40,000 feet below looks huge. But by the time it struggled up to altitude, Ben and Jimmy [Jimmy Fag who was Bowles RSO] were long gone.

Among other medals, he was awarded the AirnMedal and two Distinguished Flying Crosses one of which was for saving SR-71 #960.

The incredible story of the SR-71 Blackbird that flew an eleven-hour-long mission from Kadena to the Persian Gulf and back

As Blaser explains, a couple of months before the SAM photo shoot, Ben had even more fun. This was when the SR program was pretty new and people were still learning things faster than they’d like. On a training mission back in the states, Ben was presented the Air Force “Well Done” award when he saved an SR-71 which experienced an engine explosion “above 60,000 feet and Mach 2.5 while accelerating to a higher airspeed and altitude.”

Bowles describes this particular adventure in an article that appeared on Britt Blaser’s website Escapbale Logic:

“On the morning of 29 July 1968, my navigator, Jimmy Fagg, was not feeling well when we were having our preflight steak and eggs breakfast at the Personnel Support Detachment. Butch Sheffield, returning from leave, walked in and mentioned he needed flight time for pay and that he would gladly substitute for Jimmy.

“The flight was going well. We had just finished refueling and were accelerating thru approx 2.6 Mach and 65,000′, leaving Louisiana heading West. (ed.: usually a 40-minute flight to Sacramento) the first indication of a problem was when the right engine “unstarted”. However, this was more serious than a routine inlet unstart.

“I heard a Big Bang and immediately had a big red light (ed: there are no small red lights) I looked through the rear-facing periscope and saw a huge smoke trail: obviously not a contrail.

“Understand, when the inlet is unstarted, the aircraft is experiencing severe aerodynamic buffeting, making it difficult to read instruments until we slow to about Mach 2. The right engine is shut down. I ask Butch for the Engine Fire and the Descent checklist. I declare “Emergency” with the Air Traffic Control center, “descending and diverting to Carswell AFB”.nThen I tell Butch to “be ready to bail out”, who responds with, “Oh Shit”!n(Butch had punched out of an SR once before and was not anxious to repeat the experience.)

“Butch says, “I wish I had my checklist” (WhatnButch meant was that he had Jimmy Fagg’s checklist, not his own. Every crew member marks up his checklist with useful margin notes, obviously of great personal value. As a stand-in, Butch was wishing he had his own annotated checklist rather than Jimmy’s, captured on the aircraft’s audio recorder). The roughness is now gone and the machine is flying smoothly with normal control. Intell Butch that I would just as soon stay with her as long as we have good control. Butch concurs (although, the checklist says that if Fire Light does not extinguish…Bail Out). The problem remains, Fire Light is still On, flying on one engine, the smoke has diminished, but is it smoke, fuel spray (we are dumping as much as possible before landing), or contrail? I don’t want to land with fire and Butch concurs. Still difficult to tell if we are trailing smoke due to overcast, poor light conditions, and looking through the periscope is like looking through the barrel of a 22 rifle.

“We elect to request a fly-by with the tower to tell us if they can detect any smoke or fire. The Fire light is stillnON. Tower says we look OK. Landing was uneventful. We taxi to and into a designated hanger, stopping inside, shut down the left engine and the hangar doors are closed. We complete the “shutdown checklist”… unbuckle our harness and stuff, but no one comes to help us out of the airplane. We at least need a ladder! Butch says the crowd is over by the right wing. Finally, a couple of considerate colonels come to our rescue and advised us, “you may want to see this”. We shuffled around to the right side. The outboard forward section of the nacelle had been blown out, taking with it a portion of the wing’s leading edge. Obvious severe fire damage. Not much of the engine was left in the nacelle…you could see daylight. Lockheed used this accident as a testimonial for titanium airframes. Conventional construction could not have survived the intense heat from the fire…the right outboard wing would have failed rather quickly.”

Bowles left the Air Force in 1972 with the rank of Lt. Colonel, and he later spent 15 years as the Chief Corporate Pilot in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

March 24, 2022 0 comment

History

Beautiful pictures from the formation flight honoring Airbus’ 50th anniversary

by Till Daisd March 19, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Participating in the Airbus 50th anniversary flight were the A220, A319neo, A330neo, A350, A380, and BelugaXL along with the Patrouille de France.

Airbus turned 50 years old, and to honor this extraordinary accomplishment, a formation flight left Toulouse. The Patrouille de France and the A220, A319neo, A330neo, A350, A380, and BelugaXL all took part in the flight. Unfortunately, the weather prevented Toulouse from having a low-level fly-by.

Here are some stunning photos of the incredible formation flight celebrating Airbus 50th Anniversary

On May 29, 2019, marks the 50th anniversary of the signing of an agreement by the German Minister of Economic Affairs, Karl Schiller, and the French Minister of Transport, Jean Chamant, at the 1969 Paris Air Show for the joint development of the A300 aircraft, the first European twin-aisle twin-engine jet for medium-haul flights.

Guillaume Faury, CEO of Airbus said: “Our story is one of ambition and progress, and has been a showcase of European integration. Over five decades, we have brought together civil and defense aviation businesses from throughout the continent. For 50 years, we have pioneered many firsts through our passion and innovation, transforming the industry and helping to move society forward. Airbus is a story of incredible men and women, a story of great achievements in the past and, above all, in the future.”

In the field of aerospace, Airbus is a reference point. It also offers data services, navigation, secure communications, urban transportation, and other solutions for clients on a global scale. The company designs, manufactures and delivers industry-leading commercial aircraft, helicopters, military transports, satellites, and launch vehicles.

With around 180 facilities and 12,000 direct suppliers worldwide, Airbus has built on its strong European background to become genuinely multinational. The corporation has final assembly lines for aircraft and helicopters throughout Asia, Europe, and the Americas, and since 2000, its order book has increased more than sixfold.

The six Airbus aircraft can be seen here en route to the runway where the flight will take off.

Photo by S. Ramadier and J.V. Reymondon / Airbus

March 19, 2022 0 comment

History

The US Navy dive-bomber Wade McClusky who changed the course of the Battle of Midway

by Till Daisd March 16, 2022

written by Till Daisd

Wade McClusky was in charge of a squadron of 32 dive-bombers on June 4, 1942, and they had been given the mission to strike the aircraft carriers of the Imperial Japanese Navy. The fleet, however, was not where it was expected to be.

Wade McClusky, a US Navy dive-bomber pilot, changed the outcome of the Battle of Midway on June 4, 1942, proving himself as one of the country’s best combat leaders and pilots.

McClusky was in charge of a squadron of 32 dive-bombers at 10 a.m. that morning with orders to strike the aircraft carriers of the Imperial Japanese Navy. However, the fleet was not at the expected location. McClusky instead noticed the Japanese destroyer Arashi heading northeast as his air group’s fuel ran low. He made the deliberate choice to defy orders and follow the Arashi because he assumed she must be trailing the main fleet.

According to David Rigby in his book Wade McClusky and the Battle of Midway, when McClusky discovered that the interception coordinates he had been given were incorrect, he did not break the radio silence to seek guidance. This was fortunate because Adm Spruance and his staff on the Enterprise were still unaware of the change in the course made by Adm Nagumo’s carrier striking force, which had led the Japanese fleet away from the interception point in a nor’easter.

McClusky was nearly certain to discover the enemy on his own by the time Jim Gray, who had taken over McClusky’s former position as the commander of Fighting Six, very belatedly radioed in a contact report at roughly 10:00 am. Gray also appears to have simply said in his contact report that he was departing the area around the enemy fleet because of a fuel problem. It appears that Gray omitted to provide Nagumo’s coordinates. Because there was a remote possibility that Nagurno might have turned west or that the Japanese approach track into Midway was further west than he had anticipated, McClusky continued southwest for an additional 15 minutes after the planned interception position.

The story of Wade McClusky, the US Navy dive-bomber pilot who changed the course of the Battle of Midway — Wade McClusky

One of the most crucial choices made by an American military leader during World War 2 came next. Wade McClusky now exhibited that sixth sense, the intuition that many great military leaders possess to have a gut feeling about what the enemy was truly doing, even when the enemy was not in sight. In this instance, the gut feeling proved to be dead-on accurate. It would have been reasonable to assume that the Japanese were moving more quickly than anticipated, had passed McClusky, and were now heading south. It was counterintuitive but absolutely true that McClusky was certain that this was not the case.

He felt the truth: that Nagumo had been forced to alter his course due to repeated American air strikes from Midway-based aircraft and carrier-based torpedo planes as well as a Japanese cruiser floatplane spotting one of the American task forces. The early adjustments were evasive maneuvers meant to dodge bombs and torpedoes dropped by American aircraft engaged in combat. Nagumo’s movement southeast was hindered by these maneuvers.

In order to get near the American surface ships and make a strike against them with his own dive-bombers and torpedo planes, Nagumo turned 90 degrees to port and headed northeast at 9:17 a.m. While McClusky was unsure of all the details at the time, he was convinced that the Japanese had been held up for some reason and that the Kido Butai carriers were to the north of him.

McClusky himself never thought it was intuition or guesswork that guided him during the battle. After the war, he always bristled if he read an account of the Battle of Midway that claimed that he had made a lucky guess in turning north. There was no guesswork involved, Wade assured his family. Wade McClusky, according to Phil McClusky, always said that if the Japanese carriers had gotten past the interception point and had been to the south, out to McClusky’s left, “he would have heard about it” on the few occasions the fight was brought up in conversation.

He was apparently referring to the fact that he knew that Midway-based Catalina PBY flying boats were out on patrol and that they would have reported any large body of ships nearing the atoll.

His instincts paid off, though, and the bombers were directed straight at the Japanese carriers Kaga and Akagi, which they rapidly sank. A squadron from Yorktown arrived at the same moment and bombed the Soryu, another carrier. Three of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s main carriers were destroyed in a matter of minutes, seriously weakening it.

At 10 am on Jun. 4, 1942, after six months of the war, the U.S. was losing the war in the Pacific. Half an hour later, at 10.30 am, they were winning.

Wade McClusky and the Battle of Midway is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by U.S. Navy

March 16, 2022 0 comment

History

A fellow Marine pilot was picked up by the PBY Catalina Blister Gunner after he dove into the waters off Rabaul

by Till Daisd March 6, 2022

written by Till Daisd

The Gunner’s identity has never been discovered

The N***d Gunner, the title of the renowned vintage black-and-white photograph in this piece, was taken during World War II. On the Services Archaeology and Heritage Association Facebook page is where the intriguing story was posted.

PBY Blister Gunner, Rescue at Rabaul, 1944.

In order to save a critically burned Marine pilot who was shot down while bombing the Japanese-held citadel of Rabaul, this young crewmember of a U.S. Navy “Dumbo” PBY Catalina rescue mission dove into Rabaul Harbor.

This iconic photo was taken by Horace Bristol (1908-1997). In 1941, Bristol was recruited to the U.S. Naval Aviation Photographic Unit, as one of six photographers under the command of Captain Edward J. Steichen, documenting World War II, he was attached to South African troops initially before being re-deployed to the Pacific theatre of operations.

When this occurred, he happened to be on the aircraft the gunner was serving on, which was used to rescue people from Rabaul Bay (on the New Britain island, in Papua New Guinea). He recalls reading the following in a B&W magazine story dated December 2002:

“…we got a call to pick up an airman who was down in the Bay. The Japanese were shooting at him from the island, and when they saw us they started shooting at us. The man who was shot down was temporarily blinded, so one of our crew stripped off his clothes and jumped in to bring him aboard. He couldn’t have swum very well wearing his boots and clothes. As soon as we could, we took off. We weren’t waiting around for anybody to put on formal clothes. We were being shot at and wanted to get the hell out of there.

The n***d man got back into his position at his gun in the blister of the plane.”

As of today, the identity of the N***d Gunner has never been established.

Photo by Horace Bristol

March 6, 2022 0 comment

History

The only F-111 lost during Operation El Dorado Canyon

by Till Daisd February 24, 2022

written by Till Daisd

The sixth aircraft on the Bab al-Aziza target, an F-111F 70-2389 with the callsign “Karma 52,” mysteriously disappeared

On April 14, 1986, at 5:13 p.m., President Ronald Reagan gave the order for U.S. Air Force (USAF) F-111F Aardvarks from the 48th Tactical Fighter Wing (TFW) to depart from Royal Air Force (RAF) Lakenheath.

Operation El Dorado Canyon, a code name for the operation, was carried out in retaliation for the terrorist bombing of the La Belle Discotheque in West Berlin on April 5, which left two American soldiers dead and more than 200 others injured.

All but one aircraft made it back to the base.

The sixth aircraft on the Bab al-Aziza target, an F-111F 70-2389 with the callsign “Karma 52,” mysteriously disappeared. The crews of multiple aircraft witnessed a fireball strike the sea in the harbor area, and many believed the F-111F had been struck by a missile, as stated by Peter E. Davies in his book F-111 & EF-111 Units in Combat. By the time the jet hit the water, the escape module housing the pilot Capt Fernando “Nando” Ribas-Dominicci, and his WSO Capt Paul Lorence had not yet deployed. The F-111 ‘Remit 31’ pilot saw the crash and said, “It was a smear across the water.” I was brought back to my experience of seeing napalm in Vietnam. Additionally, one of the EF-111As could see it:

`From our vantage point just off the coast of Tripoli, we saw F-111Fs pass under us as most of them had their afterburners as they ingressed at 550-600 knots. At the time Fernando went down I saw what appeared to be a fireball skipping across the water on ingress.’

Following a few seconds later, “Karma 53” (F-111F 71-0889) noticed a flash and fireball immediately in front of them and thought it was an F-111 being struck by a SAM. After that, they had to make a quick turn to escape getting struck by a SAM themselves.

One of the tankers orbited in vain for “Karma 52” before returning home as dawn broke. By that evening, searches by P-3 patrol planes and a US Navy submarine had been suspended, and by April 17, it had been determined that the crew of “Karma 52” had been killed in action.

The sad story of ‘Karma 52’, the only F-111 lost during Operation El Dorado Canyon

It’s possible that the ECM pond on “Karma 52” failed to protect them. Many of the then-AN/ALQ-131 ECM pods, which were installed beneath the aircraft’s rear fuselages for missile defense, had malfunctioned, according to post-mission inspections, as a result of the mission’s protracted beating from high-speed airflow. When the pods were later examined, components did indeed fall out of many of them.

Capt. Lorence’s final fate is unknown; only his helmet washed up on the shore. An autopsy performed after the pilot’s body was returned to the US via the Vatican in 1989 revealed that he had drowned while unconscious. Capt. Ribas-Dominicci was a member of Lakenheath’s elite Standardization and Evaluation unit, and the year before, when another F-111F experienced an undercarriage issue, burst a main-gear tire on landing, and ran off the runway, he narrowly escaped having to eject.

Some of their coworkers believed that the decision to expand the Bab al-Azizia element to nine aircraft may have had a role in “Karma 52’s” loss.

Actually, Lakenheath planners rather favored a six-aircraft strike on the relatively tiny Bab al-Azizia site, three against the training camp, and nine to bomb the somewhat bigger and more open Tripoli airport objectives.

The longer, more intense assault that was planned on Gaddafi’s compound would leave the aircraft vulnerable to its strong defenses for over four minutes. Despite Lt Col Pastusek and Col Bob Venkus, vice-commander of the 48th TFW and an important player in the planning, objecting, Lakenheath’s wishes were rejected. To do as much damage to this obvious target as possible, the nine-aircraft attack on Bab al-Azizia was demanded. Attack strategies have to be quickly revised to prevent conflicts with the meticulously planned route developed with the US Navy. The strategy for refueling was also enlarged.

The initial plan’s deviation provided the Libyans with “a succession of single-file targets — ducks in a row,” as former 48th TFW WSO Maj Jim Rotramel put it. At Lakenheath, anxiety levels spiked in response to this possibility. The risk to the final three-aircraft cell (‘Karma’) increased but the likelihood of precise hits by aircraft flying after those that had successfully dropped bombs was significantly decreased.

To his great surprise, the Third Air Force commander, who was aware of the numbers issue but was unable to persuade his superiors to change their minds, informed the highly experienced Vietnam veteran “Karma leader” that it would be acceptable to abandon his attack if the defenses proved to be too effective. For the leader of “Karma,” this total reversal of standard USAF doctrine was shocking. The “Liberty Wing” had to follow the predetermined course of action despite being aware of its possibly catastrophic defects.

The names of Ribas-Dominicci and Lorence are inscribed on a plaque that is located today across from the 48th Medical Group hospital and honors the members of the 495th Tactical Fighter Squadron (TFS).

Photo by U.S. Air Force

F-111 & EF-111 Units in Combat is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

February 24, 2022 0 comment

History

The Last Doolittle Raider, Lt. Col. Dick Cole, Passes Away at 103

by Till Daisd February 23, 2022

written by Till Daisd

A legendary chapter in Air Force history has come to an end

Lt. Col. Richard “Dick” E., retired The “Doolittle Raid’s” last survivor, Cole, passed away on April 9 in San Antonio.

“Lt. Col. Dick Cole reunited with the Doolittle Raiders in the clear blue skies today,” said Secretary of the Air Force Heather Wilson. “My heart goes out to his friends and family as our Air Force mourns with them. We will honor him and the courageous Doolittle Raiders as pioneers in aviation who continue to guide our bright future.”

In retaliation for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the Doolittle Raiders and the U.S. Army Air Forces launched an attack on Tokyo on April 18, 1942. This action increased American morale in the early stages of World War II.

“There’s another hole in our formation,” said Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. David L. Goldfein. “Our last remaining Doolittle Raider has slipped the surly bonds of Earth and has reunited with his fellow Raiders. And what a reunion they must be having. Seventy-seven years ago this Saturday, 80 intrepid Airmen changed the course of history as they executed a one-way mission without hesitation against enormous odds. We are so proud to carry the torch he and his fellow Raiders handed us.”

Lt Col Dick Cole, the Last Doolittle Raider, Dies at 103 — *The aircraft carrier USS Hornet had 16 AAF B-25s on deck, ready for the Tokyo Raid.*

Cole was born in Dayton, Ohio, on September 7, 1915. He graduated from Steele High School in Dayton in 1938 and went on to Ohio University for two years of college before joining as an aviation cadet on November 22, 1940. As told by Master Sgt. Andrew Stephens, Air Education and Training Command Public Affairs, in the article Lt Col Dick Cole, last surviving Doolittle Raider, passes away at age 103.

Cole was instructed to go to Parks Air College in East St. Louis, Illinois, for training before traveling to Randolph Field, Texas, and later Kelly Field, Texas, shortly after he enlisted. In July 1941, he received his second lieutenant commission after completing his flying training.

Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese while Cole was with the 17th Bombardment Group in Pendleton, Oregon, on a training mission.

Up until February 1942, when Cole was informed that he would be relocated to Columbia, South Carolina, the 17th BG flew anti-submarine patrols. He and his group volunteered for a mission there, the specifics of which were unknown. Later, Cole would claim that he mistakenly believed his squad was traveling to North Africa.

Cole spent weeks practicing flying maneuvers on the B-25 Mitchell, a twin-engine, five-person bomber operated by the U.S. Army Air Corps that could take off from an aircraft carrier at sea. This exercise is sometimes referred to as the “first joint action” that evaluated the Army and Navy’s ability to work together. The mission’s Airmen and Sailors weren’t informed that their carrier, the USS Hornet, and all of its bombers were traveling in the direction of Tokyo until two days after the carrier finally set sail to bring 16 bombers closer so they could extend their range.

The USS Hornet weighed less than one-fourth of today’s fortress-like aircraft carriers in an era before mid-air refueling and GPS. The B-25 Mitchell bomber #40-2344, with Cole serving as Jimmy Doolittle’s copilot, would lift off with just 467 feet of takeoff distance.

A sighting by a Japanese patrol boat that prompted the task force commander, U.S., made the mission even more challenging. Admiral William F. 10 hours ahead of schedule and 170 nautical miles away from Japan, “Bull” Halsey launched the mission more than 650 nautical miles away. The Mitchells were initially planned to land, refuel, and then continue on to western China, providing the Army Air Corps with a squadron of B-25s and a commander. But as they attempted to reach the airfields of unoccupied China, the aircrews were now confronted with stronger opposition. Cole and his companions kept at their task, nevertheless.

Cole and the Raiders flew at a wave-top level of around 200 feet with their radios off, avoiding detection for as much of the distance as they could. The bombers attacked Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, and Kobe as well as Tokyo itself, focusing on dry docks, armories, oil refineries, and aircraft factories in groups of two to four aircraft. Because the Raiders caught the Japanese air defense off guard, minimal anti-aircraft fire was exchanged, and just one Japanese Zero was pursued. The Raiders took off after delivering their bombs and headed for safety in China.

Cole himself jumped out at about 9,000 feet, one of many Airmen who were forced to parachute out into the night. With Cole’s own aircraft landing in a rice field filled with night soil, all planes were deemed lost. Eight of the 80 Airmen who participated in the operation were caught by Japanese forces; five were put to death, and three were imprisoned (where one died of malnutrition). With the aid of Chinese farmers and guerrillas, all 72 more Airmen were able to escape to safety and continued to fight for the duration of World War II.

The raid dealt the Japanese a psychological blow, and they moved four fighter units and called back their best officials from the Pacific to defend the cities in case the American bomber forces came again.

After the Doolittle Raid, Cole remained in the China-Burma-India Theater supporting the 5318th Provisional Air Unit as a C-47 pilot flying “The Hump,” a treacherous airway through the Himalayan Mountains. The USAAF created the 5318th PAU to support the Chindits, the long-range penetration groups that were special operations units of the British and Indian armies, with Cole as one of the first members of the U.S. special operations community. On Mar. 25, 1944, the 5318th PAU was designated as the 1st Air Commando Group by USAAF commander Gen. Henry H. Arnold, who felt that an Air Force supporting a commando unit in the jungles of Burma should properly be called “air commandos.” Cole’s piloting skills blended well with the unconventional aerial tactics of Flying Tiger veterans as they provided fighter cover, bombing runs, airdrops, and landing of troops, food, and equipment as well as the evacuation of casualties.

As a command pilot with more than 5,000 flying hours in 30 different aircraft, more than 250 combat missions, and more than 500 combat hours, Cole left the Air Force on December 31, 1966. His decorations include the Chinese Army, Navy, and Air Corps Medal, Class A, First Grade, the Distinguished Flying Cross with two oak leaf clusters, the Air Medal with an oak leaf cluster, the Bronze Star Medal, and the Air Force Commendation, Medal. Additionally, in May 2014, the Congressional Gold Medal was given to each Doolittle Raider.

He continued to attend San Antonio-area Air Force functions in his latter years and visited Air Force schools and stations to encourage the spirit of service in upcoming Airmen. Cole attended the naming ceremony for the Northup Grumman B-21 Raider, which was named in homage to the Doolittle Raiders, on September 19, 2016.

“We will miss Lt. Col. Cole, and offer our eternal thanks and condolences to his family,” Goldfein said. “The Legacy of the Doolittle Raiders – his legacy – will live forever in the hearts and minds of Airmen, long after we’ve all departed. May we never forget the long blue line, because it’s who we are.”

Photo by U.S. Air Force

February 23, 2022 0 comment

History

The B-58A Hustler speed records and the 1962 Bendix Trophy

by Till Daisd February 19, 2022

written by Till Daisd

On March 5, 1962, Capt. Robert G. Sowers, Robert MacDonald, and John T. Walton, flying in the Hustler, completed the flight from Los Angeles to New York City with an average speed of 1,214.17 mph in about 2 hours 56.8 seconds

The B-58, the first operational supersonic bomber of the United States Air Force, made its maiden flight on November 11, 1956. The Hustler stood out for its sophisticated inertial guidance navigation and bombing system, slim “wasp-waist” fuselage, and significant use of heat-resistant honeycomb sandwich skin panels in the wings and fuselage in addition to its delta wing design. A droppable, two-component pod beneath the fuselage held a nuclear warhead as well as extra fuel, reconnaissance equipment, or other specialized gear because the thin fuselage disallowed carrying explosives internally. A pilot, navigator/bombardier, and defensive systems operator made up the B-58 crew.

Convair produced 116 B-58s, including 30 test and prototype models and 86 operational aircraft. Between 1960 and 1970, hustlers flew for the Strategic Air Command. B-58s set 19 world records for speed and altitude while also taking home five separate aviation trophies.

The photos in this post show B-58A on display at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force.

Remembering the B-58A Hustler speed records and the 1962 Bendix Trophy — *Convair B-58 Hustler at the National Museum of the United States Air Force.*

In the Hustler on exhibit at the museum, Captain Robert G. Sowers, Robert MacDonald, and John T. Walton flew from Los Angeles to New York City on March 5, 1962, covering the distance in just 2 hours, 56.8 seconds at an average speed of 1,214.17 miles per hour. For this, they each got the Distinguished Flying Cross in 1962 along with the Bendix Trophy. On the return voyage, from New York to Los Angeles, they also set two further speed records.

Twenty-eight years later, on March 6, 1990, an Air Force crew flew in an SR-71 Blackbird with an average speed of 2,124.5 mph from Los Angeles to the east coast (Washington, D.C.).

Beginning in 1931, the Bendix Corp. sponsored cross-country competitions known as the Bendix Trophy. The award was created to promote aviation development. Maj. James H. Doolittle, flew at an average speed of 223 mph from Los Angeles to Cleveland, Ohio, to win the first race of its kind. The Bendix Trophy itself stands about three feet tall and weighs about 100 pounds. Winners get a scaled-down model, like the one in the exhibit next to the B-58.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

February 19, 2022 0 comment

History

When the BEA C-47 that crashed onto the roof of a house near Northolt Airport

by Till Daisd February 18, 2022

written by Till Daisd

The house was re-christened ‘Dakota’s Rest!’

Bill Innes, a retired airline pilot with more than 40 years of flying experience, had the seemingly impossible dream of becoming a pilot as a young boy growing up in the Outer Hebrides. His book Flight from the Croft tells how that dream came to pass.

After gaining his RAF wings in Canada, Innes started to learn his trade by flying pre-war C-47 Dakotas for British European Airways (BEA) around the Highlands and Islands of Scotland.

According to Innes, the C-47’s durability throughout the war saved many airmen’s lives. It is effectively demonstrated by a remarkable incident that took place on December 14, 1946. BEA’s services between Northolt and Scotland were initially run by Railway Air Services in collaboration with Scottish Airways when it became a crown corporation on August 1 of that year.

The Dakota G-AGZA was scheduled to fly to Glasgow on the day in question under the leadership of Captain W.J. Johnson, with co-pilot “Bing” Crosby, radio officer Hugh Murdoch, and Robina “Bobbie” Christie, Scottish Airways’ first stewardess. All passengers had been discouraged by the blizzard, which also prevented landings, with the exception of John Livingstone, a staff member who had work in Glasgow waiting for him.

The aircraft had been cleared of snow and ice, but as they taxied out, the temperature dropped again, and the longer they waited to take off, the more snow may have frozen onto the wings. The direction of departure was to the east, and it was soon apparent that ZA was having difficulty ascending. It swung to the left and came to rest perched precariously on the ruins of the roof of the nearby 46 Angus Drive after colliding with the roof of a new semi-detached house with its port wing.

The Rooftop Dakota: the story of the BEA C-47 that crashed onto the roof of a house near Northolt Airport — *Flight from the Croft is published by Whittles Publishing and is available to order here.*

When the radio officer and the stewardess moved to the back to try to unlock the passenger door, ZA started to lean. They hastily abandoned that plan and instead escaped through the emergency windows above the wing. From there, they navigated the wreckage of the loft before descending the stairs and leaving by the front door.

Surprisingly, no one was harmed. Mr. and Mrs. Levene, a newlywed couple, had not yet moved in, so the home itself was vacant. Despite ZA’s load of aviation gasoline, the Northolt fire crew responded quickly to put out any raging fires. A four-month-old infant was unharmed and is thought to have slept through the commotion in the upstairs bedroom of Number 44.

The most incredible escape, however, was made by Radio Officer Hugh Murdoch. He had a bad habit of standing between the pilot seats during takeoff to look out the windshield on those more laid-back occasions. Not only did he escape the collision unharmed, but when he turned to check at his own seat, a port propeller blade was poking through. It is quite improbable that he would have lived if he had been restrained as required by the rules.

Despite holding a senior training position in BEA, Captain Johnson continued to be referred to as “Rooftops” Johnson for the remainder of his professional life. Even when repairs were finished in six months, oil stains kept resurfacing in the ceilings for the following 10 years, suggesting that the removal of ZA may have caused more damage than the collision itself. The residence was given the new name “Dakota’s Rest”!

Photo by Whittles Publishing

February 18, 2022 0 comment

History

The Green Ramp Disaster

by Till Daisd February 17, 2022

written by Till Daisd

This article pays tribute to the 24 paratroopers who passed away in the Green Ramp tragedy on March 23, 1994, at the former Pope Air Force Base

At around 300 feet above the ground, an F-16D and a C-130E collided in midair to start the disaster. The F-16 pilot tried to recover the aircraft after impact by using a full afterburner, but the plane started to break apart and spat debris onto the runway and the road that circled it. The two F-16 crew members ejected, but their craft proceeded to fly in an arc toward Green Ramp while still in full afterburner.

A large fireball was created when the F-16 wreckage collided with it and continued on a path that brought it right into the area where a group of 82nd Airborne Division paratroopers was standing and sitting. The fireball was caused when the F-16 wreckage punctured the fuel tanks of a C-141’s right wing.

According to The Fayetteville Observer, a fireball filled with debris that had a diameter of around 75 feet tore through the ready soldiers.

The vast majority of the soldiers missed the crash. But they did hear it.

The chaplain of the 525th Military Intelligence Brigade, Capt. Gerald K. Bebber, reported the jet’s high-pitched shriek at full throttle giving way to a deep resonating thud before the enormous explosion.

The sad story of the Green Ramp Disaster

“I recognized the sound from my experience in battle in Desert Storm. As soon as I could think this, a great roaring rush of fire entered my sight above and to the left of the packing shed. It was at tree-top level, slanting down as it gushed into the mockup area at terrific speed… The flame came through the tops of the trees that stood in a small open area beside the pack shed. In the torrent of flame, I saw pieces of wreckage and machinery hurtling along. As the torrent rushed in I could hear cries of alarm, curses, and someone yelling “run” from the mock-ups. The fire blast crackled as it blasted in, and at its sides, it curled outward as it went forward. I was standing perhaps thirty feet beside the edge of the blast and could see eddies of the flame curling out toward me. I turned and ran from the flame, to just beyond the right end of the pack shed, where . . . I no longer felt the intense heat, so I stopped. To my left, out on the aircraft ramp, now in my line of sight, I could see a parked C-141 engulfed in flames. It was the left one of a pair of C-141s parked there.”

As the flames drew to Green Ramp, the paratroopers dispersed.

Some positioned themselves behind protective metal containers to brace themselves. Some went in the other direction. Others found safety. majority didn’t. Soldiers who fell to the ground and rolled out of the way of the flames fared better.

Those who attempted to run were either too slow, fell over machinery, or had nowhere to go. The soldiers who were fortunate enough to avoid harm helped the less fortunate.

The 159th Aviation Group’s chaplain, Capt. Jonathan C. Gibbs III, witnessed the enormous fireball burst through the Green Ramp’s many trees. He and the others ran for a berm and hid behind it.

A few seconds later, that “heard a loud ‘whoosh’ from the other side of the berm.” Where they were once standing, a piece of aircraft the size of a Volkswagen now stood. Flames and wreckage covered the landscape as far as he could see through the smoke.

Capt. Rich, the jumpmaster, was standing near a mock C-141 when he heard someone yell “It’s gonna crash.” He turned, but could only see an orange glow, surrounded by “smudgy black smoke.”

“Despite hearing the word run, for some reason I determined that my only chance of survival lay not in running but in finding something solid between myself and the oncoming fireball… I think one of the compelling factors in my decision to dive behind the mock door was an overwhelming understanding that there was no way in hell I could outrun the oncoming debris… I also remember … that whatever cover I found had to be within about 5 feet of where I was standing. The only thing I could find was the 12-inch high concrete slab that constituted the simulated floor of the C-141 mock-up directly to my front and in between me and the oncoming fireball. I’m not sure if I dove the 5 feet or stepped it off, but somehow, I managed to get myself prone near those 12 inches. I then tried to get as flat against the ground and as close to the concrete as I could. In fact, I would go so far as to admit that I had an overwhelming desire to burrow my way into the side of that slab.”

Rich thought he was going to die. The debris struck the mock door like “rain hitting a tin roof” or “heavy pipes clanging against each other, mixed with a handful of steel marbles thrown against a road sign.”

He compared the temperature to that of a microwave and the sound of the flames to that of a blowtorch. He expected to burst into flames. Rich’s backside was indeed on fire at the time, but he was unaware of it.

Rich rolled across the ground to extinguish the flames after he realized the fireball was gone. Nearby, another man was “burning like a human torch.”

“No matter how hard you patted you couldn’t get the fire out,” he said. A few feet away, another soldier was burning.

“The number of wounded was almost overwhelming. Everywhere there were groups gathered around the injured trying to help them. Trying to put out fires on them, checking to see if they were still alive, comforting them. Others were running around in half panic, half-dazed, looking for someone to help or something to do. Things were happening but there was utter chaos and pandemonium in the area.”

Another threat emerged once the fireball had passed over the paratroopers. In the sweltering heat, 20 mm chain gun rounds from the F-16 started to cook off.

Soldiers suddenly had to worry about bullets flying by since many of them were on fire. As some attempted to assist in putting out the flames engulfing their fellow soldiers, they accidentally set themselves on fire due to their exposure to jet fuel.

As the fireball went over Sgt. Gregory Cowper, a member of the 2nd Battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, he started to roll on the ground. He was injured in the explosion, breaking his leg.

“Ammunition was going off. I couldn’t tell where it was. I looked to my left and there was a man on fire. I looked to my right and there was a man on fire.”

Over 100 people were hurt, and 23 men died. One severely burned paratrooper passed away more than nine months later, on January 3, 1995.

Before civilian first response vehicles arrived, the 55th Medical Group promptly despatched a large number of U.S. Army tactical ambulances with medical personnel to transport the injured to Womack Army Medical Center. These medical professionals were among the first to arrive and gave the injured people crucial assistance.

Photo by U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force

February 17, 2022 0 comment

History

Joe “Hoser” Satrapa, an F-14 pilot who successfully scored two simulated gun kills on USAF F-15s

by Till Daisd February 17, 2022

written by Till Daisd

As he moved through missile ranges to get close enough to fire his 20 mm cannon, Hoser soon scored two gun kills. He completely outmaneuvered the F-15 pilots in round two, resulting in two additional gun kills

Announcing Joe “Hoser” Satrapa’s passing “after a Simple, Honest and Brave Life,” veteran F-14 Tomcat Radar Intercept Officer (RIO) David “Hey Joe” Parsons posted on Facebook on March 17, 2019, that Satrapa was a legendary figure in naval aviation.

No dissertation on modern section tactics or naval aviation in general, according to George Hall’s Top Gun – The Navy’s Fighter Weapons School could be deemed complete without a pair of Hoser stories. A few renowned gonzo maniacs bubbled to the surface in the micro-world of maybe 400 Tomcat pilots. Joe “Hoser” Satrapa, a young and utterly fearless F-8 pilot who frequently carried a good forty pounds of lethal ammo, leaning toward small automatic weapons and hand grenades, in case he was suddenly compelled to leave his aircraft and carry the battle directly to the small bad guys in the jungle, was already well-known in Vietnam.

In the air, Hoser preferred using guns; he piloted the four-gun Crusader in Southeast Asia, which many Navy pilots still consider to be the [deleted] machine of all time, and he had never been forced to exclusively use missiles like his Navy Phantom colleagues. Hoser was forced back into the front seat of the Tomcat as a RAG guns instructor after a series of talks that would put the NFL draft to shame. This came about as a result of personal appeals from the highest echelons of government, among them Secretary of the Navy John Lehman, a Reserve naval aviator.

Many active pilots and RIOs well remember Hoser’s delivery of manic harangues to fuzzy-cheeked newcomers from the RAG. In his patented Yosemite Sam voice he would whip the lads, and invariably himself, into a lethal frenzy: “Pull on the pole till the rivets pop and the RIO pukes! No kill like guns kill! A Lima up the tailpipe is too good for any Gomer! Close with the miserable Commie [deleted] and put a few rounds of twenty-twenty-mike-mike through his canopy! If he hits the silk, gun his ass while he swings!” Hoser would then pace the corridor, bumping into hapless petty officers, muttering oaths, and trying to re-align his internal INS.

Hoser also knew a thing or two about the element of surprise. During the much-maligned AIMVAL-ACEVAL fighter trials of a decade ago, Hoser was put in a 1v1 against a Navy Aggressor flying an F-5. As the two combatants sat side-by-side on the Nellis runway, awaiting tower clearance for a second takeoff, Hoser looked over at his opponent, reached his hand up over the control panel, and mimicked the cocking of machine guns in a World War I Spad. A thumbs-up came from the other cockpit- guns it would be, the proverbial knife fight in a phone booth, forget the missiles. Both jets blasted off.

No Kill like a Guns Kill! Remembering Joe “Hoser” Satrapa, the F-14 Driver who scored two simulated gun kills on USAF F-15s for two times in the same mission

In the area, the fighters set up twenty miles apart for a head-on intercept of underground control. Seven miles from the merge, with closure well over 1000 knots, Hoser called “Fox One” – Sparrow missile away, no chance of a miss. As they flashed past each other, the furious F-5 driver radioed, “What the hell was that all about?” “Sorry.” said Hoser, “lost my head. Let’s set it up again. Guns only, I promise.”

Remember Charlie Brown, Lucy, and the football? Again the two fighters streaked towards the pass, again at seven miles Hoser called “Fox One.” The Aggressor was apoplectic; he was also coming up on bingo fuel state, a common situation in the short-legged F-5.

Hoser was first back to the club bar, nursing an end-of-the-day cold one as the flushed Aggressor stomped in. “Hoser, what the hell happened to credibility?” fumed the F-5 jock. Said Hoser, with accompanying thumb gestures, “Credibility is DOWN, kill ratio is UP!” It’s a popular Top Gun story, and its moral isn’t lost on students or teachers. From 1v1 to forty-plane furball, expect anything. But never expect your enemy to be a sweet guy.”

According to Alvin Towley’s book Fly Navy: Discovering the Extraordinary People and Enduring Spirit of Naval Aviation, Hoser was scheduled to engage in two-versus-two combat with two U.S. Air Force (USAF) F-15 Eagles on another occasion. Hoser’s wingman encountered mechanical problems and was unable to fly while they were on the tarmac, but Hoser made the decision to fly anyway and take advantage of the situation. Hoser and his Tomcat NFO (a backseat Radar Intercept Officer, or RIO, as they were known in the F-14 community) took off. They began impersonating two airplanes on the radio. The F-15 Eagles, who expected two adversaries, became distracted as they searched for the “other” Navy jet on their radar screens. Hoser quickly bagged two gun kills, maneuvering through missile ranges until he was close enough to trigger his 20 mm cannon. In round two, he flat-outmaneuvered the air force pilots for two more gun kills. And as he always said, “There’s no kill like a guns kill.”

Lt. Commander Satrapa pretended to be a junior-grade lieutenant during the mission debrief, which was conducted over the phone, to further add insult to his opponents’ injury. The air force pilots believed a student pilot had beaten them up.

To read the entire account of Joe “Hoser” Satrapa’s famous F-15 kills, click here.

Photo by U.S. Navy

February 17, 2022 0 comment

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