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Cold War

The SR-71 Blackbird that slid on JP7 fuel residue into Kadena Hangar

by Till Daisd May 9, 2023

written by Till Daisd

The crew chief signaled BC to halt as the SR-71 slowly taxied into the hangar and drew near the parking spot. As usual, BC hit the brakes, but the SR-71 started to slowly slide on the JP-7 fuel residue

This story appears in John Altson’s book The Black Line.

The Kadena Hangar Slide

The SR-71 abort into Bodo, Norway, is one of many airborne emergency circumstances the Thomas-Reid crew encountered. But, BC and Jay also experienced some perilous circumstances while on the ground. After completing one operational mission, they began to taxi up to the open-on-both-ends Kadena hangar. The crew chief often waits at the opposite end of the hangar when the SR-71 taxis into it.

The floor of the hangar was covered in JP-7 fuel from flight preparation and prestart for this mission as BC taxied the SR-71 inside. In the SR-71, the skin of the aircraft serves as the skin of the fuel tank; there is no fuel bladder. During ground operations and until the plane is in the air, JP-7 leaks from the aircraft. When the plane gets hot, the elastic polymers expand and stop the leak of JP-7. Up to 1000 pounds of gasoline can leak from an SR-71 between takeoff and preflight.

The crew chief signaled BC to halt as the SR-71 slowly taxied into the hangar and drew near the parking spot. As usual, BC hit the brakes, but the SR-71 started to slowly slide on the JP-7 fuel residue. Normally, the Physiological Support Van is stationed in front of the aircraft at this point (between the nose of the aircraft and the blast fence just outside the hangar), transporting the crew back to the facility where they remove their pressure suits. Luckily, it was not parked in that spot, otherwise, the aircraft would have struck it as it passed through the hangar.

Rich Graham and Don Emmons, the SR-71 buddy crew, and other ground personnel put chalk in front of the wheels right away. Everyone else on the ground then seized a piece of the aircraft in an effort to halt it.

As Jay stated, “The problem of not hitting stationary objects while sliding through the hangar was complicated by having to make about a 30-degree right turn to avoid the blast fence before the tires were on firm, dry ground and we could stop. A turn too early and the right wing would contact the hangar wall; too late and the steering might not work, causing us to crash into the blast fence (it’s for things like this that we were paid the extra bucks). After several moments of stark terror, the aircraft finally stopped sliding as the handling gear reached dry concrete. As they say, it’s not over until it’s over — in this case, the flight was not over until the aircraft had completely stopped halfway outside the hangar. After this incident, the hangar floor was thoroughly mopped up prior to parking to prevent any future incidents.”

The Black Line is available to order here.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

May 9, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

A squadron of 80 Soviet strategic bombers was once intercepted by a lone RAF Lightning

by Till Daisd May 5, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“While the mass contacts of 60…70…80 (who knows?) contacts which, as if raging bulls bent on widespread death and destruction, bore down on my sole Lightning, I spoke with the controller at RAF Saxa Vord. The controller confirmed that my radar information was correct and that the incoming hordes now ranged from twenty to sixty miles from my current position…,” Steve Gyles former Lightning Driver

The only iconic Mach 2 fighter aircraft built in Britain was the English Electric (later British Aircraft Corporation, BAC) Lightning. The jet was created from a supersonic research aircraft called the English Electric P.1.

After entering into service, the Lightning outfitted nine squadrons and served as the cornerstone of Britain’s air defense system for a period of 25 years. In the book Phantom Boys by Robert Pike, the character Steve Gyles recalls his time as a Lightning pilot.

“I was posted in 1968 to 11 Squadron at RAF Leuchars to fly Lightning aircraft. This proved, in a number of ways, a valuable precursor to my later posting onto F-4 Phantoms, and it was at an early stage of my time with 11 Squadron that I learned in a most sobering manner of the need, one might say to expect the unexpected, a key quality for the successful operation of the versatile and demanding Phantom. For it was in the spring of 1970, when the Soviet air force (Voyenno-Vozdushnye Sily) decided, sillily, to celebrate the centenary of the birth of that amazing gremlin in the Kremlin, Comrade Vladimir Lenin, that by chance I became involved in this heroic event. On QRA duty over the night 22/23 April 1970, I awoke with a start in the small hours, at around 04:00, when an inconspicuous-looking ‘squawk’ box in one corner of the pilot’s crew room started to make strange sounds. At once, I tumbled out of bed — pilots on QRA duty were allowed to sleep as long as they remained in flying gear — and dashed across the room to listen closely. The controller’s detached voice now reverberated from the box: ‘Leuchars, Leuchars, this is Buchan…alert two Lightnings.’

That time a lone RAF Lightning intercepted a horde of 80 Soviet strategic bombers

“As the nominated Q1, the first to go in the event of a scramble, the other pilot, despite looking as bleary-eyed as I felt, ran with admirable élan out to his aircraft. As the Q2 pilot, I set off the scramble alarm, acknowledged the Buchan controller’s call, scribbled down the time, then sprinted to my Lightning. For a brief period, both pilots sat in their individual cockpits before the controller’s voice crackled through our bone dome earpieces when he ordered the Q1 Lightning to scramble. When my colleague was safely airborne, the controller stood me down from cockpit readiness but by that stage, I was too worked up to think of going back to sleep.

“[…] My colleague returned just as dawn was breaking. He explained how, in pretty much pitch-black conditions, he had shadowed two Soviet bombers which he reckoned were Tu-95 Bear D aircraft. As we talked about his flight, suddenly the squawk box came to life again. “Leuchars, this is Buchan,” said the controller, who sounded a bit breathless this time, “alert two Lightnings.” A small but significant hesitation followed after which, most unusually, he went on: “and as many more as you can manage.” The controller’s tone sounded almost plaintive when he continued: “We have eighty-plus unidentified tracks coming around the North Cape.” For a second or so we two pilots stared at each other in astonishment. We said nothing, but our thoughts seemed to coincide: eighty-plus? Is he bonkers? Has he lost the plot? Has World War III broken out? This, though, was no moment to prevaricate and as we set off the scramble alarm I made a dash for my aircraft (the Ql machine was in the process of engineering turn-round). My carefully placed bone dome, judiciously laid-out cape leather flying gloves, and thoughtfully positioned seat straps facilitated rapid progress as I leaped into the cockpit, plugged in my personal equipment connector (PEC), and buckled up the seat straps. Very soon, when I spoke with the controller, he gave height, heading, and other details as he ordered me to scramble and to maintain radio silence.”

Gyles continues: “The start-up and take-off procedures went without a hitch and before long, just as pale shafts of dawn sunlight began to emerge across the area, I flew the Lightning in a north-easterly direction. With my airborne radar, navigational aids, and ‘identification friend or foe’ system switched off to thwart the possibility of tactical information being passed on by eavesdroppers, I had to keep a good lookout for other aircraft. Old-fashioned navigational techniques were needed to plot the Lightning’s position and from time to time this could be verified by peering down at fixed-position North Sea oil installations. After thirty or so minutes, when approaching the general area briefed by Buchan, I reckoned it was about time to break radio silence. Glancing inside the cockpit, I, therefore, switched on the identification friend or foe system, the navigational aids, and the AI23B airborne radar. The radar took some moments to warm up but when it had done so, and when I squinted through the fold-up rubber viewing shade of the radar’s B-scope display, what I saw made my pulse start to race and my brain cells to go into overdrive. The radar revealed mass contacts too numerous to count up. I had expected something unusual, but this was overwhelming; my mind became a turmoil of conflicting thoughts as I struggled to absorb the implications of such a mass of hostile images.

“While the mass contacts of 60…70…80 (who knows?) contacts which, as if raging bulls bent on widespread death and destruction, bore down on my sole Lightning, I spoke with the controller at RAF Saxa Vord. The controller confirmed that my radar information was correct and that the incoming hordes now ranged from twenty to sixty miles from my current position. ‘Copied,’ I tried to sound nonchalant but my voice had become annoyingly shrill. I swallowed hard, continued to study the radar screen, and wondered what the hell to do next.

“In a way, though, the dilemma was resolved for me when I visually spotted the first wave of Soviet aircraft. From that moment, more or less, my radar became redundant as I concentrated on the visual picture outside the cockpit. The Soviet hordes, mainly Tu-16 Badger and Tu-95 Bear aircraft, seemed to have organized themselves into groups of finger-four formation. Selecting a nearby group, I maneuvered the Lightning for an interception and visident (visual identification) procedure. My nerves, as may be expected, were on edge; every move appeared to assume excessive significance. Having closed onto the selected group of Soviet machines and identified them as Tu-16 Badger aircraft, it was time to take photographs. Using a special 35mm camera with an automatic wind-on facility and plenty of films, I moved to the rear of the formation, took a photograph of both sides and underneath Badger number four, then moved on to the next machine.

“Just as I completed the photo shoot of the formation’s third Badger, my peripheral vision picked up a shadow passing over the Lightning’s cockpit. I glanced up to see another formation of four Badgers cross about 500ft above me. This seemed suddenly to emphasize the surreal nature of what was happening around me; as if caught up in some kind of crazy dream, I felt the need to pinch myself to return to reality. A small voice within me whispered, ‘Well I’ll be darned.’

“The situation, though, was no mere flight of fancy. There was a job to be done and before long, when I was joined by a Victor in-flight refueling tanker, my Lightning’s fuel tanks were filled to full. For the next one-and-a-half hours, as I moved from one Soviet formation to the next, I was able to photograph proceedings for posterity. Never before had we seen such masses and never, hopefully, were we likely to do so again. The reaction of Soviet crews was intriguing: some would studiously ignore us and these Bears and Badgers presumably had political observers on board.

“Crews on the non-political machines seemed to react altogether differently — almost festively — with chicken legs, drink cans, maybe even the odd tumblers of vodka waved around happily. After all, I had to remind myself, this was supposed to be some kind of bizarre birthday bash. If from time to time, I asked Saxa Vord for ‘pigeons’ (i.e. heading and distance) to base, some of the Soviet crews would helpfully hold a map against one of their side windows and point. I became increasingly amazed by the turn of events. I had become embroiled in the affair by chance and, ridiculously, I seemed, along with the Victor crew and another Lightning that eventually entered the fray, to represent the entire people of the Western world.”

Gyles concludes: “It was the following day, as I thumbed through the pages of various newspapers, that I came across a copy of one of my photographs in The Daily Telegraph with the caption: ‘Strike Command pilots are becoming increasingly adept at “Bear hunting” and although unable to communicate with the Russian aircrews, appropriate hand signals are invariably exchanged.’”

Photo by Royal Air Force, Arpingstone and Mike Freer – Touchdown-aviation via Wikipedia

May 5, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

The legendary MiG-29 Fulcrum fighter jet’s co-designer, Ivan Mikoyan, passed away

by Till Daisd May 4, 2023

written by Till Daisd

Ivan Mikoyan was twice awarded the USSR State Prize for creating the MiG-29

Ivan Mikoyan, the MiG-29’s co-designer and Artem Mikoyan’s nephew, passed away on November 25, 2016, at the age of 89. According to RT.com, Mikoyan worked as a lead engineer at the Russian Aircraft Corporation MiG design bureau for the majority of his career. This company was founded by his uncle Artem Mikoyan.

He began working for OKB (a transliteration of the Russian acronym “Опытное конструкторское бюро” – Opytnoye Konstruktorskoye Buro, meaning Experimental Design Bureau) MiG in 1953. He held various positions there, including assistant chief engineer, chief engineer for flight tests, and leading designer for the MiG-21. He was designated chief designer of the MiG-23 in 1965, and technical head of joint state tests in 1968. Ivan served as the MiG-29 fighter aircraft’s deputy chief designer beginning in 1973. Later, he worked as a consultant for the MiG Russian Aircraft Corporation. In recognition of his work on the MiG-29, Ivan Mikoyan twice earned the USSR State Prize.

The F-15 and F-16 were part of a new generation of American fighters that prompted the development of the MiG-29. This dual-purpose aircraft, built as an air defense fighter, also had a ground attack capability. The Frontal Aviation Regiments of the Soviet Air Force commissioned OKB MiG to build a “frontal” or tactical fighter. The MiG designers began developing the MiG-29 in the early 1970s using all the technical information that was available about the most cutting-edge Western aircraft, and the first prototype made its first flight on October 6, 1977.

The new fighter was discovered by American reconnaissance satellites in November 1977, and NATO gave it the name “Fulcrum.” In 1982, the MiG-29 was put into service. Since then, more than 1,600 Fulcrums have been built and sold to at least 30 different nations.

Photo by TSGT MICHAEL AMMONS / U.S. Air Force

May 4, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

The RAF Phantom crew disguised as an Aeroflot flight to intercept a Soviet Il-62 Classic spy plane

by Till Daisd April 29, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“Keeping the Phantom in that position for about six or seven minutes, my navigator and I grinned at the cameras, struck tops of our bone domes lingeringly and flamboyantly, offered thumbs up and gestures until, eventually, the Classic captain made a classic turn onto a south-easterly course…,” Alan Winkles, former Phantom driver

From the 1960s to the early 1990s, the U.K. used the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II as one of its main combat aircraft.

In 1969, the Fleet Air Arm and RAF both began using the Phantom. In the RAF, it was quickly replaced in the strike role by other aircraft made specifically for a strike and close air support, whereas in the Royal Navy, it had a secondary strike role in addition to its primary use for fleet air defense. It assumed this position by the middle of the 1970s and remained the U.K.’s primary interceptor until the late 1980s.

In contrast to the Lightning force, where QRA scrambles typically involved an almighty scramble, the QRA Phantoms at Leuchars frequently received long-range warnings of “zombie” (i.e. Soviet) activity, allowing a more leisurely pace, as stated by former Phantom driver Alan Winkles in Robert Pike’s book Phantom Boys.

“This, though, was not always the case and my mind […] went back to one such unusual situation […]. As part of a naval co-operation exercise, I’d been on combat air patrol to the east of the Shetland Isles when the radar unit at RAF Saxa Vord, situated on the northern tip of the Shetlands, had given orders to intercept a civilian airliner which was off-track and not responding to air traffic control’s messages. On his airborne radar, my navigator had swiftly spotted the relevant radar return and, as he called out appropriate directions, it was not long before I could pick up the aircraft visually. Soon, as I closed onto the target from astern, my navigator agreed with the assessment that it was an Ilyushin Il-62, NATO codename ‘Classic’, a Soviet long-range jet airliner with a capacity for almost 200 passengers and crew, and which looked similar to the Vickers VC10 aircraft. The Classic, which had Aeroflot markings, was flying at an altitude of 35,000ft at an airspeed of around .85 Mach and the machine was flying directly towards the area of our naval exercise.

The unknown story of the RAF Phantom crew that intercepted a Soviet Il-62 Classic spy plane disguised as an Aeroflot airliner

“Maintaining the Phantom’s position astern the Ilyushin, I closed up to about 100 feet directly below the intruder. While discussing with my navigator our next course of action, suddenly, to our amazement, a fairly large square panel on the Classic’s underside began to open.

“Like lustful sets of prying eyes, three enormous camera lenses were now revealed. No sleuth was needed to work out that the Aeroflot’s crew members had been ignoring air traffic control deliberately in order to overfly and photograph the ships of the United States fleet and the carrier group involved with the exercise. The situation was as blatant as it was outrageous.

“Normally to fly in close proximity to another aircraft without the captain’s knowledge would be wholly contrary to the practices of good airmanship. In this case, however, I realized that the Ilyushin captain would need to fly at a steady -height and airspeed in order to achieve good photographic results. I decided, therefore, to fly even closer to the Ilyushin — some 30 or 40 feet beneath it — so to block the recalcitrant cameras’ view. Keeping the Phantom in that position for about six or seven minutes, my navigator and I grinned at the cameras, struck the tops of our bone domes lingeringly and flamboyantly, and offered thumbs up and gestures until, eventually, the Classic captain, doubtless still oblivious of our presence, made a classic turn onto a south-easterly course when, at last, he obeyed air traffic control’s instructions to head off into the wide blue yonder. Later, I could picture the Soviet intelligence people when they summonsed the Classic captain, pointed at the jaw-dropping photographic triumph, then put hands on hips and made every effort not to smile or laugh — a laugh that might start with a rumble to grow rapidly into a belly-roar — while the shame-faced captain wrung his hands, bit his lip then made a hasty, embarrassing retreat.

That time a RAF Phantom shot down a RAF Jaguar: the unknown story of the British Phantom's only air-to-air kill

“Maybe at that point the room filled with unwelcome applause.”

Photo by MSgt. Don Sutherland / U.S. Air Force, Sergey Lysenko, and Mike Freer – Touchdown-aviation via Wikipedia

April 29, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

F-4 Phantom interceptors performing Zulu Alert Scramble

by Till Daisd April 28, 2023

written by Till Daisd

The F-4 Phantoms have to take off during Zulu Alert Scrambles within five minutes of the horn going off

The stunning video in this post, which was shot in a West German air base in the 1970s, depicts a classic Cold War Era scramble carried out by a pair of U.S. Air Force (USAF) F-4E Phantoms on “Zulu Alert.”

Noteworthy Zulu Alert is the air-sovereignty mission where fighters scramble to intercept unknown ADIZ (Air Defense Identification Zone which actually is airspace over land or water in which the identification, location, and control of unidentified aircraft are performed in the interest of national security) intruders or anyone else who shouldn’t be where they are.

The video explains that the interceptors had to take off within five minutes of the horn going off, as opposed to the Phantoms’ typical loadout for missions of this nature, which included twenty M61 Vulcan cannons, nine AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles, and seven AIM-7 Sparrow semi-active radar homing (SARH) missiles.

It was so tense during Zulu Alert scrambles, according to the video description, that “sometimes during taxi and takeoff you were still trying to finish strapping in.”

Therefore, take a seat, enjoy the video, and experience the rush of a Cold War-era Zulu Alert Scramble.

April 28, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

F-15 Driver describes what it was like sitting Hot Alert during the Cold War

by Till Daisd April 27, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“For 15 years (1977-92) sitting 24-hour air defense – codenamed Zulu – alert was a fact of life for an Eagle Driver at Bitburg,” Doug Dildy, former F-15 Driver

“For 15 years (1977-92) sitting 24-hour air defense – codenamed Zulu – alert was a fact of life for an F-15 Driver at Bitburg.”

According to what Steve Davies and Doug Dildy describe in their book F-15 Eagle Engaged, “when scheduled for Zulu the pair of pilots would show up at their squadron, frequently before any other members, and using the 36th TFW Zulu Briefing Guide discuss how they would conduct the launch, intercept, and 1 recovery. Gathering their Hight gear from the Squadron Life Support section, they would drive over to the Zulu barn and check in with the element they were replacing. There would be a quick brief by the outgoing Zulu Commander on the status of the jets and any intelligence regarding Warsaw Pact air activity. The oncoming pilots would then order breakfast (provided by the 36th TFW support group) and walk out to their jets, inspect, start, and cock them.

The sad story of the Blue on Blue incident which resulted in the destruction of two U.S. Army UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters by two USAF F-15s — *A U.S. Air Force McDonnell Douglas F-15C Eagle from the 53rd Fighter Squadron, 36th Fighter Wing, based at Bitburg Air Base*

“Cocking the jet consisted of starting the aircraft, testing all the functions that would be needed on a QRA(I) scramble and intercept, and setting the switches so that the systems would come to life in the mode needed. These included firing up the radar and doing all of the BIT checks, tuning the AIM-7s to the radar’s frequency, and checking that the AIM-9Ls each slaved to the radar and had a good tone. The INS was given a complete GC (for gyrocompass) alignment, usually about a nine-minute process, and the data in its memory was checked for accuracy. Once the amber “ALN” (alignment complete) light was flashing, the control knob was rotated to OFF to save, or “store,” the Alignment. All aircraft checklist items were accomplished through Before Taxiing Checks — including lowering the flaps to the take-off setting – to be sure the jet was ready to launch. The radios were set on the frequencies for Bitburg tower in the “main” (No. 1 radio) and Bitburg command post (CP or BARON) in the “aux” (No. 2 radio). After shutdown, the INS knob was rotated to “STOR” so that when the engines started and the generators kicked in the system would immediately access the saved or stored alignment (a three-minute process and usually the limiting factor in a timely launch).

“Once the jets were cocked and the pilots and ground crew were back in the “shack,” breakfast would be served and everyone would sit down for a relaxed meal. With everyone together the Zulu Commander would announce he was doing a “horn and lights check” (to keep from interrupting breakfast with a dash to the jets), and call the CP to get a test on the klaxon and lights. To back up any contingency of lost comms with the CP, a set of three lights was mounted to the wall of the Zulu hangar bay: green for “Go,” yellow for “start engines and wait for instructions” (known as “Slingshot” status) and red for “Don’t Go” (which of course would have to be authenticated). With all checks done, the Zulu Commander would report four jets “on status” and the Zulu crew would settle into the dullness of another 24 hours in the barn.

“The barn’s living accommodations consisted of a kitchen, small dining area, and relaxation/ready room containing sofas, books, magazines, and television on the ground floor. Upstairs was the sleeping area with the four pilots’ beds in line abreast near the brass fireman’s pole and the “battle cab” at the forward end of the upper floor. The “battle cab” was wired into 4ATAF’s AD and Bitburg’s CP communications network and frequently, if something was up, the Zulu Commander would “hang out” there monitoring the discussions on the net and get (or give to his crew) a head’s up that a launch might be imminent. (If the words “Three Six, COPPER RING…” were ever heard coming in over the net, we knew a scramble was imminent and immediately began stumbling over each other to get to our jets.)

“Regardless of any notification, when the klaxon blared the pilots and Zulu ground crew would scramble. If it occurred during sleep, the pilots would literally jump out of bed and into their flight suits and boots (left properly positioned for the jump when retiring), tighten their boots, zip up their suits, and head for the pole. Adrenalin would be pumping but we had to pause long enough to allow the preceding pilot to clear the bottom of the pole (lest a collision at the base of the pole knocks out 50 percent of the alert force). On the ground, we would dash out to our respective jets. Our g-suits would be hanging from the ladder and zipping them on — while the ground crews opened the hangar doors, pulled on their headsets, and moved into position for engine start — we’d clamber up the ladder and drop into the seat, pulling the JFS start handle as we did so. As the JFS wound up to an ear-splitting scream one of the maintainers would buckle us into our harness and exit, remove the ladder and move to be ready to pull the chocks.

“As this blur of motion was progressing, as soon as the rising sound of the JFS cranking leveled off, we would raise the finger lift (on the front of the throttles) to start the first engine. As soon as the first generator was online we’d turn the radar on and the INS would start “cooking” in its alert alignment and the radios would click on. Raising the finger lift to start the second motor, now only two to three minutes into this well-practiced drill, the four-ship flight lead would pull out his pencil and, getting a nod from his wingman alongside him, would press the mike button to the rear to check in and contact Bitburg CP.

“LIMA ALPHA ZERO. ONE, check.”
“Twoop.”
“Three.”
“Fourp.”
“BARON, LIMA ALPHA ZERO ONE with four, ready to copy words.”
“LIMA ALPHA ZERO-ONE, Tango Scramble Two to Low Fly Seven. Contact STRAW BASKET GCI center on TAD 631 [tactical air defense frequency 631], back-up 635. Time now 03:00Zulu, Authentication Sierra Hotel.”
“LIMA ALPHA ZERO ONE copies.”
“Twoop.”
“Three.”
“Fourp.”

*F-15s of the 36th Tactical Fighter Wing at Bitburg Air Base, Germany*

“Checking to be sure the engines were running in limits at idle, the radar had timed in, the ALN light was flashing, and his wingman was ready (helmet nod), the flight lead would give the pull-chocks signal. Getting a thumb’s up from the crew chief that they were clear, and a salute, he would push the throttles forward and press the mic button forward as well. After a quick check-in, he would call, “Bitburg tower, LIMA ALPHA ZERO-ONE, Tango Scramble Two.”
“LIMA ALPHA ZERO-ONE, cleared for take-off, runway 24.”

“Swinging onto the runway, we’d push the throttles into afterburner, wait for the first punch in the ass signaling a light off, then shove them all the way forward into “full blower.” The sidelines would become a streaking blur and the airspeed needle started winding rapidly around the dial. A quick pulse on the stick to get the nose up, airborne, get the gear up, flaps up, accelerating the jet to match our rushing heartbeats. At the end of the runway, we’d give a strong pull on the “pole,” condensation streamers wafting from the wingtips as the jet rotated skyward, blasting like a space rocket into the air. Behind the lead, the wingman would complete the same process, tipping his jet back on its tail to put LA01 into the large green SuperSearch circle on the HUD, get a lock, and call “Tied.”

“Approaching 7,000 feet, at the top of the near-vertical climb, the leader would roll off to the east and send his wingman to the TAD frequency. As he saw the wingman roll out of his climb in tactical formation alongside him, the leader would check in, “STRAW BASKET, LIMA ALPHA ZERO-ONE, check.”
“Twoop.”
A distinctly German accent would then respond, “LIMA ALPHA ZERO-ONE, vector one-one-zero, climb angels two-five [25,000ft].”

“With that call, we were headed for the low altitude training area called “Low Fly Seven,” probably to meet Neuburg’s (Luftwaffe) F-4F Phantoms over “Hasselback Ridge” for 2 v 2 low altitude intercepts. By the time we’d get there, our heart rates would back off to inflight normal and our brains would catch up with the jet and begin doing what we’d been drilled to do, working the radar, comms, and weapons parameters (master arm switch stayed in “SAFE”) to intercept any potential “bad guy.” We did so knowing that with their own radars, the real “bad guys” were sitting on the other side of the fence watching and listening to us. We did all this to convince them that they would be met with the same fast and lethal response should they put so much as a toe over the line.”

The following video, taken at Bitburg at the height of the Cold War, shows a typical F-15 Zulu Alert Scramble.

F-15 Eagle Engaged is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo by Airman 1st Class Javier Alvarez and Sgt. Janel Schroeder / U.S. Air Force

April 27, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

F-15C Eagles protected the air assets from the MiG-31s

by Till Daisd April 22, 2023

written by Till Daisd

Even though KAL 007’s wreckage had fallen in the Sea of Japan’s international waters, Kadena’s F-15C Eagles had to defend P-3 aircraft from Soviet fighters on the prowl while they searched for the airliner’s black box data and voice recorders

The F-15 Eagle is an all-weather, nimble tactical fighter created to give the United States Air Force (USAF) air supremacy over the battlefield. Beginning in 1979, the single-seat F-15C, an upgraded version of the F-15A, was added to the USAF’s inventory.

The brand-new F-15Cs of the 12th Tactical Fighter Squadron (TFS) / 18th Tactical Fighter Wing (TFW) were stationed at Kadena Air Base (AB), on the Japanese island of Okinawa, when Korean Airlines Boeing 747 flight KAL 007 vanished en route from the Alaskan capital of Anchorage to Seoul, South Korea, on September 1, 1983.

U.S. intelligence agencies already knew what had happened to the airliner while the world prepared for the worst-case scenario. After veering off course and flying over Sakhalin Island, it was brought down by a Soviet Su-15 interceptor. The airliner’s 269 passengers and crew all perished.

HOW KADENA'S F-15Cs PROTECTED THE AIR ASSETS THAT WERE TRYING TO FIND KAL 007 WRECKAGE FROM SOVIET MiG-31s — Korean Air Lines HL7442 parked among other aircraft at Honolulu International Airport. This aircraft was shot down by a Soviet Su-15 near Sakhalin Island when it left its assigned flight track.

According to Steve Davies’ description in his book F-15C Eagle Units in Combat, highly-classified intercepts showed a Soviet ground controller ordering a fighter to intercept the 747 after it unintentionally entered Soviet airspace. The pilot had been directed to get quite near to KAL 007. This was because he thought it might be a USAF RC-135 Rivet Joint. No warnings were given to the crew, unlike what the Soviets later claimed; he had radioed back that the contact was not a reconnaissance aircraft but a civil airliner. He was then ordered to shoot it down.

There was a race to be the first to recover the voice- and data-recording black boxes from the crash site. At this early stage, the United States considered these as being essential to trying to disprove Soviet assertions that they had believed the aircraft to be a reconnaissance platform flying without lights on and that the fighter that eventually brought it down had fired warning shots passed the cockpit windows. The classified radio intercepts could not be publicly disclosed until much later due to the covert manner in which they had been gathered, therefore recovering data from the black box was crucial. The only reliable way to prove what happened that night was through the data recorders.

Unarmed U.S. Navy P-3C Orion patrol aircraft from Patrol Squadron Four (VP-4) and from Patrol Squadron Forty (VP-40) took part in the U.S. effort to locate the recorders. Even if the wreckage of KAL 007 had fallen in the Sea of Japan’s international seas, the P-3s needed defense against roving Soviet fighters. Selected 12th TFS pilots with their F-15Cs were sent to Misawa AB, located at the tip of Honshu Island. Indeed, the distance between Sakhalin Island, which was under Soviet control, and Misawa, where the plane was believed to have been engaged, was just 200 miles.

One of those chosen to operate the alert F-15s at Misawa was Lt Rob Graeter. He recalled: “We had a south CAP (Combat Air Patrol) and a north CAP. The southern CAP was abeam and to the west of Sapporo, on the northern island of Hokkaido. The north CAP was about 80 miles from the search area and was closer to the tip of Hokkaido. We were flying with three ‘bags’ (fuel tanks) and eight missiles (four AIM-9Ls and four AIM-7Fs), so we were not going to go any faster than Mach 1.1. What that meant was that we were about 20 minutes flying time away from the northern CAP – maybe a little less if we really pushed it.”

There were plenty of F-15 and aerial tanker resources nearby to enable the Eagles to maintain a constant airborne presence closer to the crash site (3 fully equipped Eagle squadrons were located in Kadena). However, as Davies explained, political tensions were so high that such a move would have been viewed as provocative. Instead, the six Eagles and the pilots waited for the signal to launch in response to any hostile or threatening Soviet behavior while they were on 24-hour alert.

It is noteworthy that the Soviets quickly deployed their own resources to find the recorders, with the search focused southeast of Sakhalin. Smirynkh, Dolinsk-Sokol, and Yuznho-Sakhalinsk were three Soviet fighter sites on the island that housed MiG-21, MiG-23, and long-range MiG-31 ‘Foxhound’ aircraft (the latter was a variant of the MiG-25 ‘Foxbat’). The ‘Foxhound’ represented the biggest threat, and the USAF was once again unclear about how to handle it, just as it had been with the ‘Foxbat’ years previously. In reality, the MiG-31 had only recently entered service and was still mainly mysterious.

Since Graeter was a junior lieutenant and on his first F-15 mission, he recalls: “The MiG-31s had just deployed to Yuznho-Sakhalinsk, and we had intelligence reports telling us that one had made a run from Vladivostok to Sakhalin at 70,000 ft and Mach 2.3. They told us that his load out was two radar missiles and four infrared (IR) missiles. It was pretty eye-opening to know that he had enough gas to make that run and carry his missiles.”

Russian MiG-23s harassed American Navy Orions as they combed the ocean for any evidence of the 747’s black boxes. In fact, one of the pilots was so hostile that he bumped the wings against the unarmed aircraft. The last straw was this along with reports that the airliner’s bodies were starting to wash up on the shores of nearby Japanese islands. A MiG was seen launching on the third day of the hunt as the P-3s were flying into the debris area.

In response, Graeter and his CO, Roger Taylor, were scrambled. “We started talking to AWACS and quickly detected a MiG-31 heading away from us and running northeast to southwest – Sakhalin to Vladivostok – probably 90 miles away. We climbed up in altitude in order to prepare to do something about him should he turn around and head towards the AWACS, which was northwest of Misawa.”

Nonetheless, the Foxhound passed without incident to the east. In order to effectively tackle the high-altitude, high-speed danger posed by the MiG-25 and MiG-31, unique tactics had to be used. Graeter explained: “We had trained for the high-fast-flyer threat (MiG-25) and knew that to handle that guy we’d have to dump all of our fuel tanks. We would fly a profile that involved getting to 40,000 ft, then unload the jet (pushing forward on the stick to induce 0g) in full afterburner to get it to accelerate. Once up to Mach 1.7 or so, we’d gingerly pull the nose back up to 20-30 degrees, center up the dot on the AIM-7 (align the nose with the computer-generated steering dot), and salvo all four missiles.”

But it never came to that. The P-3s would roll back away from the MiGs, the F-15s would launch, the MiGs would be informed that Eagles were airborne, and they would immediately turn 180 degrees and head for home, according to Davies, who claims that Graeter and his colleagues launched a total of 12 sorties in the days that followed. The “Floggers,” “Fishbeds,” and “Foxhounds” were often less than 80 miles away when the USAF pilots saw them on radar, but AWACS never gave them clearance to engage. The Soviets ceased pressuring the recovery force after a week, and the Eagles were home in six weeks.

The F-15 had frightened the Soviet fighter into submission while not firing a single shot. America’s Eagles had succeeded in their initial trial.

Photo by Ken H, Hansueli Krapf and Konstantin Tyurpeko (http://russianplanes.net/id161326) via Wikimedia Commons, Senior Airman Maeson L. Elleman and Airman John Linzmeier / U.S. Air Force, U.S. Navy

April 22, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

Descending into Armageddon

by Till Daisd April 21, 2023

written by Till Daisd

If requested, the orbiting crews would open their top-secret decoders and confirm the “Go Codes” radio-transmitted from SAC’s Omaha headquarters. Crews were given the go-ahead to complete their dreaded missions if the Go Codes were validated

Jay Lacklen is a former B-52 pilot with 12,500 flying hours and the author of two books, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command.

SAC Go Code

My new assignment to Loring AFB, ME, as I returned from Vietnam transitioned me from a hot war in the jungle to the Cold War with the Soviet Union where the stakes could be the survival of civilization itself. Strategic Air Command (SAC) had no sense of humor; it was as sober as a nuclear bomb, the delivery of which was its prepared-for mission as outlined in the Emergency War Order (EWO).

This war order used codes that were transmitted to the crews of bombers and air refueling tankers, possibly in tactical orbits over the Arctic. The “Go Codes” transmitted by radio from SAC headquarters in Omaha, NE, would be verified by the orbiting crews if told to do so by opening their top-secret decoders. Crews were given the go-ahead to finish their dreaded missions if the Go Codes were validated.

Things would presumably be quick and simple for the tankers. The tankers would have just enough fuel to travel out to the Arctic Ocean and ditch if they had to supply almost all of their fuel to their mated bombers (down to the “standpipe”).

I always thought they might do something else. Since the Go Order would mean a worldwide nuclear war had erupted and presuming their home base would probably already be incinerated along with their families, they might have favored flying up to 35,000 feet, depressurizing the cabin, and having everyone remove their oxygen masks. The time of useful consciousness at this hypoxia-inducing altitude is about fifteen seconds, just long enough to think of your incinerated loved ones before you joined them.

The ordeal would linger a little longer for the bomber crew. If they could clear their first target by twenty-five miles, they had to proceed with their mission. They could then parachute to the countryside and introduce themselves as the US crew who just nuked a nearby city.

My navigation team assured me, only half-jokingly, that they had the charts to fly us to Rio de Janeiro to “establish the reconstitution force,” if I wanted. From one viewpoint, the nuclear weapon threat standoff (mutually assured destruction) would demonstrably have failed, so why continue with it? Completing our assigned mission would only “make the rubble bounce” after our missiles from continental silos had hit their Russian targets, so why bother?

If we had proceeded, I imagine I’d preferred to drop the first bomb and then circle slowly above it until it went off. Or, to climb up well into defense radar coverage, squawk “emergency,’ and hope a Soviet fighter got us before we reached the target if there were any Soviet fighters left.

This provides an opportunity to ponder the end of mankind, to be the generation that turned out the lights on our hallowed fifty-thousand-year human experience.

At least the meteorite that wiped out the dinosaurs was not self-inflicted. We would be the first creature to attain self-awareness who, nonetheless, snuffed itself out. With the quantum leap in mental ability came the quantum reap in self-destructive capability. I suppose this mental capability, coupled inextricably with a reptilian brain stem, may have doomed us from the beginning.

Descending into Armageddon: SAC Go Codes

It might even be extraordinary that we have lasted as long as we have. So perhaps we could cheer ourselves, ruefully, in the bomber, in the end, for perseverance in the face of a preordained losing hand, for reaching such a high level of accomplishment before our fatal contradiction finished us.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

April 21, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

The C-5 pilot, who was twice saved by his guardian angel during the same mission

by Till Daisd April 21, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“On this winter C-5 mission to Bodo, Norway, he (she?) saved me twice,” Jay Lacklen, former C-5 pilot

Jay Lacklen is a former C-5 pilot with 12,500 flying hours and the author of two books, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command.

Guardian Angel Double Save, 1983

My guardian angel saved me many times over 33 years of flying. I don’t know why I deserved to be saved, but I was. On this winter C-5 mission to Bodo, Norway, he (she?) saved me twice.

I flew with George Talley, a contemporary and fellow evaluator pilot in the 709th MAS. Trouble seemed more prevalent with evaluators on board since all thought someone else was minding the store and let our guard down.

To digress, I have decided to award Talley my “best pilot” award in 33 years of Air Force flying. He was not flashy or aggressive but excelled nonetheless with no major incidents or blunders (that I know of) in over 10,000 flying hours. George is why I consider myself almost the best air refueling pilot ever, since he was better, the bastard.

[…] The Bodo mission took us first to Cherry Point MCAS, NC, to pick up Marine equipment for the Nordic exercise. At the base operations desk, I was handed a communication package with exercise information and, most importantly, the approach plates for Bodo, not a regular stop for us. Since I was in command, I got the package.

Four distinct runways were positioned almost like a gigantic “X” on the unusual Cherry Point runway, but at the intersection, each runway was split in half and was offset by a few hundred yards. The initial guardian rescue was necessary as a result of this offset.

By habit, I would run the “Line up” checklist when cleared for takeoff and when crossing the runway hold line. Except, for the Cherry Point takeoff, we had to taxi down most of the lower runway on this alignment to take off on the upper runway, so we did not run the checklist passing the first hold line, waiting for the second.

Unfortunately, as we got to the second runway, we apparently thought we had already run the checklist but had not. George was flying, but I was in command, so I own it. We started the takeoff roll without having run the checklist, the major oversight being not having turned on the antiskid switch. This might have been a problem if we had aborted the takeoff at high speed, but probably would not have been catastrophic. If I remember correctly, the gear would not have retracted after takeoff until we moved the switch to “on,” whereupon we would have realized our error.

The angel intervened at the 80-knot check since my airspeed indicator, for the only time in 9,500 hours of C-5 flying, failed. We did a low-speed abort and taxied down to the next taxiway to clear the runway. We then ran the “After landing” checklist and discovered the error that flabbergasted us both. How had we let that happen?

After a maintenance fix, we took off for Bodo. A few hours later, deep into the night, and about halfway across the Atlantic, I decided I’d better review the Bodo arrival procedures. The weather briefing had warned about snow showers in the area of this destination I had never seen before.

I began searching my copilot cockpit position for the package and soon realized…I had left it on the counter at Cherry Point base ops. Damn! We were screwed! I couldn’t fly to Bodo in a snowstorm without approach plates! Ooooh, this would be bad! We’d have to divert and I’d get to explain to the 21st Air Force why this was necessary.

I swear what happened next is true. I thought for a moment about how I would explain this to the crew, especially to George. I’d made an error worthy of a rookie copilot by forgetting the package. How to explain? I grimaced, shaking my lowered head slowly, and reached for the interphone toggle on my yoke to perform a humbling mea culpa.

Just as my finger arrived on the switch, my instrument altimeter began spinning madly from 33,000 feet to zero, again, for the first and only time in 23 years flying the C-5. “Hahahahahahaha! I thought, “I’m saved! Now we have to divert for maintenance!”

“Crew, copilot, I’ve just lost my altimeter, we’ll have to ask 21st for a divert base,“ I said. And, no, I didn’t fess up to my error. The divert, to Frankfurt, Germany, knocked us out of the exercise and we never did get to Bodo, so the missing package became irrelevant.

The story of the C-5 pilot who was saved by his guardian angel twice in the same mission

Thank you, angel.

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

April 21, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

B-52 Vs F-14

by Till Daisd April 20, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“The F-14, however, flown by “nasal radiators,” kicked our ass. Most incredibly, the Tomcat got immediately on our ‘six’ despite coming at us head-on and having to turn 180 degrees for his initial approach, while the Air Force interceptors had arrived from behind, to begin with, a great advantage,” Jay Lacklen, former B-52 pilot

Dancing with Interceptors, 1975

One of the few times we got to maneuver forcefully at high altitudes was during intercepts by Air Defense Command interceptor fighters, which included the F-102 and F-106 from the USAF, and the F-14 from the U.S. Navy.

Later, in the C-5, I had intercepts run on me, without maneuvering, by NATO fighters that were usually F-16s or British Tornadoes as we flew across Europe. I enjoyed the American intercepts in the B-52 because we got to “dance” with the fighter boys. As the interceptor checked in on frequency, I would tell him we were ready and “had our dancing shoes on.”

Former BUFF driver tells the story of the most unusual dogfight: B-52 Vs F-14

As the intercept began, the EW would call the range and clock position of the fighter, such as “eight o’clock, ten miles,” so I would know where he was and when to maneuver. The F-102s and F-106s proved the easiest to shake. They would come smoking in on us at high speed, but below Mach 1, and line up directly behind us at our six o’clock position, which is the missile launch or cannon firing position.

I would push our speed up to three hundred knots or so to keep him at high speed as he approached. When the EW called his position about three miles at a high rate of closure, I would roll into forty-five degrees of bank, pull the throttles to idle, and raise the speed brakes. Then I would pull hard, putting the bomber into a tight decelerating turn. This would invariably cause the F-102 or F-106 to badly overshoot, since, with swept wings, designed for high speed, they had greatly degraded turning capability. The long B-52 wings and airbrake deployment allowed a far tighter turn than the F-100 series fighters could manage, and we invariably “lost” them with this maneuver.

F-14 Tomcat Vs F-15 Eagle: the pilots' perspective

The Navy F-14, however, flown by “nasal radiators,” kicked our ass. The Tomcat could sweep its wings forward to nearly seventy degrees from its swept-wing, high-speed configuration and match my best turn, which infuriated me. Most incredibly, the Tomcat, of the movie Top Gun and “Maverick” fame, got immediately on our “six” despite coming at us head-on and having to turn 180 degrees for his initial approach, while the Air Force interceptors had arrived from behind, to begin with a great advantage. As the F-14 swung behind us and approached, my EW, Buddy, called his position “six o’clock, three miles.” Going into my maneuver, I racked the B-52 into a steep turn, groaning at the g-forces I put on the plane.

The EW, however, made the maddening call, “Target six o’clock, one mile,” repeatedly from the time I broke into the turn until I rolled out, defeated. The Tomcat stayed in perfect formation with me one mile behind in perfect shooting position. At this point, had I been in a B-1 perhaps, I could have gone to the afterburner and left the F-14 far behind. The standard complaint about the F-14 was poor acceleration from low speed, as the wings were swept back for high speed from the extended position. The ratio of relatively low power to relatively high aircraft weight made acceleration an all-day thing in a dogfight. The added weight was necessary to provide beefed-up landing gear structures for punishing carrier landings, but it hampered acceleration from low speed.

B-52 Vs F-14: former BUFF driver tells the story of an unusual bomber V fighter dogfight

But for purposes of this combat exercise, the F-14 would have shot us down easily, had our gunner not shot him down first. If he used a missile from ten miles or so behind us, he’d have nailed us; if he had to come into cannon range, however, our fifty-caliber rear cannon might have nailed him first. This is another reason why we knew we would fly our nuke mission low level, so the fighters would have a difficult time even finding us against the ground clutter.

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

April 20, 2023 0 comment

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