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aircraft

CH-46 crew member tells the story of when his Phrog Bombed Vandenberg AFB with ketchup and mustard

by Till Daisd December 21, 2024

“It was hilarious, and those boys found out you don’t mess with Marines without getting some ‘feedback,’” Alex Landi former CH-46 Phrog Crew Member

The Boeing Vertol CH-46A Sea Knight, a twin-turbine tandem-rotor helicopter, made its first flight in August 1962 after winning a 1961 design competition for the Marine Corps’ medium assault transport helicopter. Delivered in 1964, the first US Marine Corps (USMC) Sea Knight entered combat service a year later during the Vietnam War, transporting troops and cargo to and from Navy ships in the China Sea.

By 1968, the Sea Knight, also referred to as the “Phrog,” had transported 500,000 troops and flown 75,000 hours on 180,000 missions, including 8,700 ones that rescued injured Marines. Boeing Vertol delivered about 600 Sea Knights between 1964 and 1990. Boeing created upgrades and modification kits for the Sea Knights in the 1980s and 1990s.

Alex Landi, a former Marine and crew member aboard the legendary Phrog, mentioned this incredible (and funny) story.

Landi recalls:

“I bombed Vandenberg Air Force Base with red and yellow plastic ketchup and mustard bottles from my CH-46, and I was only an E-4. Two CH-46s carried out this bombing raid on the transient parking snack shack on the flight line at Vandenberg. We were provoked and counterattacked as all good Marines should. Was really funny stuff! At least the Air Force didn’t shoot us down.

“True, and there is a story behind this.

“Only successful bombing raid on a USAF missile base in American history.

“General details are thus:

“Two CH-46 choppers took off from our base in Southern California. Can’t remember if it was Los Alamitos or the big Tustin helo base. Was about 1970 or so. We were headed to the Bay Area; (Alameda?) routine training mission.

“We stopped at Vandenberg to refuel. After we did, the pilot in charge said we could get lunch at the flight line snack shop. We four enlisted Marines went in and ordered our food. Almost immediately, a bunch of Air Force guys started ragging on us. Just penny-ante interservice rivalry stuff. We started jawjackin’ back. Just then, one of the co-pilots came in, saw what was happening, and, not wanting any problems, told us to take our food and go eat on the choppers.

“We got our food and took a bunch of plastic, red and yellow, ketchup, and mustard bottles with us to assemble our burgers. We ate on our birds and were just finishing up when the pilot in charge returned and asked why we were eating on the bird. We told him what happened, and we could see he was a bit pissed. He told us to get ready. We fired up the birds, taxied a very short way from our parking spots, and lifted off.

“The pilot hovered at about 50 feet, kicking up a lot of dust and making a racket. All the Air Force guys came running out to see what was going on, and that’s when we bombed them with the condiment bottles. They ran in every direction imaginable!

“It was hilarious, and those boys found out you don’t mess with Marines without getting some ‘feedback.’ As I said; had to be the only bombing raid on a US missile base in American history. It was highly successful, too. It still makes me laugh!

“As far as I know, there were no serious repercussions. Never heard of any. Nobody got impeached.
It was about 50 years ago. Me and my Phrog were cutting edge technology then. We’re both museum pieces, now.

“Don’t remember the pilot’s name, but will always think of him fondly. A real Marine!

“Oorah!”

Photo by U.S. Marine Corps and Matt Udkow/Santa Barbara County Fire Department

The Day a USMC CH-46 Phrog Bombed Vanderberg AFB with Plastic Ketchup and Mustard Bottles and Completed The Only Successful bombing raid on a USAF missile base in American history

December 21, 2024 0 comment

History

After more than 50 years of production, Boeing delivers the last 747 aircraft

by Till Daisd December 20, 2024

written by Till Daisd

Boeing and Atlas Air Worldwide joined thousands of people to celebrate the delivery of the final 747 to Atlas, bringing to a close more than a half-century of production

The delivery of the last 747 to Atlas marked the end of more than 50 years of production, and Boeing and Atlas Air Worldwide joined thousands of people, including customers, suppliers, and current and former employees, to celebrate.

In December 2022, the aircraft departed the company’s widebody factory.

The “Incredibles,” Boeing workers who developed and built the first 747, came back to be honored at the Everett factory, where the 747’s adventure started in 1967.

The 747 has played a key role in Boeing’s history of aerospace leadership.

Production of the 747, the world’s first twin-aisle airplane, began in 1967 and spanned 54 years, during which a total of 1,574 airplanes were built.
At 250 ft 2 in (76.2 m), the 747-8 is the longest commercial aircraft in service. At typical cruising speeds, the 747-8 travels roughly the length of three FIFA soccer fields or NFL football fields per second.
The final airplane is a 747-8 Freighter. This model has a revenue payload of 133.1 tonnes, enough to transport 10,699 solid-gold bars or approximately 19 million ping-pong balls or golf balls.

Final-747 — The Final Boeing 747 Airplane Left the company’s Everett Factory in December 2022

“This monumental day is a testament to the generations of Boeing employees who brought to life the airplane that ‘shrank the world,’ and revolutionized travel and air cargo as the first widebody,” said Stan Deal, president and chief executive officer of Boeing Commercial Airplanes, in a company news release. “It is fitting to deliver this final 747-8 Freighter to the largest operator of the 747, Atlas Air, where the ‘Queen’ will continue to inspire and empower innovation in air cargo.”

“We are honored to continue our long history of flying this iconic aircraft for our customers around the world,” said John Dietrich, president and chief executive officer, Atlas Air Worldwide. “Atlas Air was founded over 30 years ago with a single 747-200 converted freighter, and since then, we have spanned the globe operating nearly every fleet type of the 747, including the Dreamlifter, Boeing’s 747 Large Cargo Freighter, for the transport of 787 Dreamliner parts. We are grateful to Boeing for their shared commitment to safety, quality, innovation, and the environment, and for their partnership to ensure the continued success of the 747 program as we operate the aircraft for decades to come.”

In 1990, two 747-200Bs were modified to serve as Air Force One and replaced the VC-137s (707s) that served as the presidential airplane for nearly 30 years.

As the first twin-aisle airplane and “jumbo jet,” the “Queen of the Skies” enabled airlines to connect people across vast distances and provide non-stop trans-oceanic flights. Its development solidified Boeing’s role as an industry leader in commercial aviation. The airplane’s core design with its distinctive hump and seating in the upper deck has delighted generations of passengers and operators alike. Boeing continued to improve on the original design with models like the 747-400 in 1988 and the final 747-8 model that was launched in 2005; across all the models, the jet has delivered unmatched operating economics and efficiency to travel and air cargo markets.

Photo by Boeing/Paul Weatherman

December 20, 2024 0 comment

History

The B-36 checklist lasted six hours. The shortest checklist is that of the T-38 Trainer

by Till Daisd December 19, 2024

written by Till Daisd

How many items are on a pilot checklist?

In aviation, a preflight checklist is a list of tasks that pilots and aircrew should perform prior to takeoff. Its purpose is to improve flight safety by ensuring that no important tasks are forgotten. Failure to conduct a preflight check correctly using a checklist is a major contributing factor to aircraft accidents.

According to researcher and writer Atul Gawande, the concept of a pre-flight checklist was first introduced by management and engineers at Boeing Corporation following the 1935 crash of the prototype Boeing B-17 (then known as the Model 299) at Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio, killing both pilots. An investigation found that the pilots had forgotten to disengage the crucial gust locks (devices that stop control surfaces moving in the wind while parked) before takeoff.

How many items are on a pilot checklist?

‘Good question, easily answered by showing the shortest one and the longest one,’ Ron Wagner, former USAF Pilot and author at www.renazonce.com, on Quora.

THE SHORTEST ONE

‘The shortest one I know of was the spin recovery checklist for the USAF T-38 Talon. It was a bold-faced checklist, which meant we were required to memorize it verbatim.

‘T-38 Spin Recovery Checklist

‘Handles Raise

‘Triggers Squeeze

‘It was the bailout checklist for the original ejection seat—the one I rode when I flew T-38s.

‘The USAF replaced that old ejection seat about a decade ago, and the new one has a loop to pull instead of arm handles that need to be raised to expose the triggers that need to be squeezed. So, the ejection checklist could now be a single item. And I suppose everyone is required to memorize that one, too. LOL.’

WHAT’S THE LONGEST CHECKLIST?

Wagner continues;

‘According to an article appeared on Flight Safety Australia, the record holder is the engine start checklist for the Convair B-36 Peacemaker.

‘The article says that it took the ground crew six hours to prepare this 10-engined Cold War strategic bomber for a mission, after which the flight crew took another hour for a preflight check of 600 items.

‘With six huge radial piston engines and four jet engines, it must have been long.

‘And it was a bomber, with far more systems than just the ten engines, such as armament, four bomb bays and associated doors, and guns and a galley.

‘And it had a crew of 15, and one of those crew members was the flight engineer, who had a scope that could monitor the condition of all 336 spark plugs.

Untouchable by enemy flak: here's why the B-36 Peacemaker would have been an awesome strategic bomber during World War II

‘The checklist just for that engineer’s station might set the world record even if you left off the whole rest of the airplane.

‘Oh, and if it looks like you’re seeing two seats, well, yep.’

Wagner concludes;

‘Here’s a cutaway of the entire front crew area. A typical B-36 flight could last 40 hours. One would assume that was due to long flights, but, damn, it might have been because they had to start running checklists a day before takeoff.’

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Unknown

December 19, 2024 0 comment

History

The “Great DLC Fight with Grumman” and why the Tomcat handled better at 15 than it did at 17 units AOA

by Till Daisd December 18, 2024

written by Till Daisd

Since Commander Emory Brown’s background as a test pilot in the Tomcat Program is widely known, we believed his perspective on the Development of the F-14 is invaluable

Lou Drendel’s book forms a particularly interesting record of Test Flying the Tomcat, as he interviewed Emory Brown for his “F-14 Tomcat in Action” book.

For those unaware, Squadron Signal books were a vital component of any aviation enthusiast’s collection during the Dark Ages before the Internet last century. Short, magazine-like softcovers that only cost a few dollars, filled with superb artwork, and had a centerfold that featured numerous profiles of different airplanes in various guises. Their cover art was equally dramatic, as were their back covers.

Emory Brown described what he called the “Great DLC Fight with Grumman” in great detail in F-14 Tomcat in action. He became the first Naval Aviator to land the F-14 aboard the USS Forrestal. We believe his perspective on the Development of the Tomcat is invaluable because of his well-known background as a test pilot in the Tomcat Program.

The following account relates the highlights of our conversation and is cross-referenced with our original F-14 in Action Source and the NATOPS Flight Manual of the F-14A, a copy of which forms a valued part of Pensacola Aerospace Museum (PAM)’s reference material. Once again, we shall distinguish between ourselves as PAM and Commander Brown, with his rank abbreviated as CDR. Brown.

PAM: Having read the Lou Drendel Book, it is our understanding that you put in months of 16-hour days to get the F-14 Tomcat Program ready for its Carrier Qualifications.

CDR Brown: That is correct. Grumman and the Navy were under a lot of pressure back then to get the Airplane on the Boat, so photos showing the program’s progress could be shown to the public. I was the first Naval Aviator to land the Tomcat on a carrier, with Commander George White, the first Naval Aviator to fly the Tomcat, riding in back.

PAM: So one of your primary roles in the program was getting the Tomcat Carrier Qualified.

CDR Brown: That is correct.

PAM: In looking at the Lou Drendel book, you mention just how bruising the “Great DLC Fight” truly was. [Note: DLC was a spoiler system designed to reduce or increase lift on the type’s wings without changing aircraft pitch attitude or power settings. Given that the aircraft was capable of Mach 2, its slow-speed handling characteristics were essential to the type’s safe operation aboard Carriers at Sea. DLC worked by a special thumb-operated wheel on the control stick, which could activate the spoilers during final approach to fine-tune the aircraft’s lift and descent rate without needing to add or reduce power given the lag inherent in early Pratt & Whitney TF30 turbofan powerplants.]

CDR Brown: Grumman was under a lot of pressure to meet the Navy Specifications on the airplane, and with DLC aboard, the F-14 was roughly 4-6 knots faster than Spec. Grumman was afraid they would be penalized for this breach, and they proposed either first eliminating DLC, then changing the Tomcat’s approach Angle of Attack (AOA) from 15 to 17 units to meet the approach speed spec.

PAM: Tell us what kind of issues that would have caused.

CDR Brown: It would have resulted in a higher pitch attitude and reduced visibility coming aboard the Carrier. The airplane simply handled better at 15 than it did at 17 AOA.

Original-Grumman-Company-Art-for-the-F-14-Tomcat — Original Grumman Company Art for the F-14 Tomcat. From the Naval Historical Center; Ironically, Grumman, in an effort to get rid of the type’s DLC system to avoid a contract penalty, spread a rumor to Fleet Squadrons VF-1 and 2 that incorporating the DLC would cost the type it’s internal gun.

PAM: This point raised by Commander Brown caused us to look up the Approach AOA for the Tomcat in the types NATOPS flight manual. With some digging and after asking Tomcat Veterans David Parsons, Heater Heatley and Larry Splash Coy, what their approach AOA was in service during their time in the Fleet, their answer, along with NATOPS was 15 units.

With NATOPS proving Commander Brown’s contention that 15 was the proper approach angle, as he literally wrote the type’s flight Manual for Carrier Operations as its Test Pilot, it also gave the following warning;

Stalls with landing gear extended and flaps up are similar to those with flaps extended. Buffet starts at 16 to 18 units AOA and wingrock at 26 units A0A.

During deceleration in a level 1-g stall approach, light buffet starts at about 19 units AOA. Buffet does not significantly change thereafter as the AOA is increased and provides NO USABLE STALL WARNING.

Thus as the type’s NATOPS flight manual noted, the type could enter pre stall buffet WITHOUT Warning at 16-19 Units AOA. Given that stall speed increases directly proportional to bank angle, any turns during a Tomcat approach could cause a stall on Approach, a situation made even more hazardous by the types trouble plagued legacy engines, the TF30.

Tomcat Veteran Larry Splash Coy, noted the following;

White-Brown — Lieutenant Commander Emory Brown, with Commander George White in back, at the controls of the F-14 Tomcat on its first Carrier Landing aboard the U.S.S. Forrestal, nearly exactly a half-century ago on Jun. 16, 1972.

“Only problem with 17 units was that it lessens the margin of error…doesn’t take much after that to find yourself behind f tbd literal power curve. I was a throttle walker with the TF-30s… couldn’t find that with the GE’s as their thrust was almost instantaneous and tbd nose wandered. 2000 hrs in the A, 1800 in the A+/B. LOVED those GE’s !!!!!”

Veteran Tomcat RIO David Parsons also noted;

“We flew by the Indexer. RIO calculated approach airspeed and monitored that for deviations as well as Vs, which was out of pilot’s scan. RIO would verbally call out “on speed… 600” and use inflection if needed. During daytime, VMC, not needed unless pilot asked for it. Nighttime or IMC, it was a chant.”

PAM: Given the fact that Experienced RIOs were often teamed up with low-time Naval Aviators, one cannot help but admire their sheer intestinal fortitude as they rode without flight controls in the backseat of a low and slow Tomcat on approach to a carrier with only their intercom to keep their “voice-activated autopilots” out of trouble for them both.

PAM: What other kinds of issues did you run into during carrier testing?

CDR Brown: We had throttles that would stick and sometimes require a substantial amount of force to unstick. Sometimes the wings would as well. It could be cured by going head down and reaching for the flap handle and wing sweep handle while flying the airplane’s stick between one’s knees. As I recall, you had to get to adjust the wing sweep angle to 22 degrees in order to lower the flaps. My theory then was that this was certainly something that contributed to Bill Miller’s Crash.

PAM: What was your perspective on what happened?

F-14A-TOMCAT-Fighters — GRUMMAN F-14A Tomcat Fighters “Peel off” in formation over a harbor.

CDR Brown: Bill Miller was a class act, a first-class Test Pilot, and a real stand-up guy. The Navy had him fly an airshow to demonstrate the Tomcat, and unfortunately, they chose our specially instrumented carrier suitability aircraft. Bill was flying an airshow routine solo in low ceilings of only approximately 2000 ft. I had my suspicions of what happened right away, and sure enough, when we recovered him and the airplane, we found evidence on his flight helmet consistent with his head being down to reset the wing sweep angle and flaps.

PAM: Certainly a sad loss both personally and to the program.

CDR Brown: Grumman was under a lot of financial pressure then because they were laboring under a fixed-price contract during a time of inflation. They were trying their best to avoid any future contract penalties. One thing they did to try and keep DLC off was they told VF-1 and VF-2, which were the first Fleet Squadrons to get the Tomcat, that putting DLC on the airplane would cost them the internal Gun.

PAM: What was your response to this.

CDR Brown: We made a film showing landings and successful recovery rates WITH and WITHOUT DLC engaged. With DLC, it was something on the order of 96 percent; without it, it was in the 60s.

PAM: That’s quite a difference. What happened after that?

CDR Brown: After seeing the films, the Navy had no choice but to back us on this, and so did VF-1 and 2 once they realized that having DLC wasn’t going to cost them their gun.

PAM: It should be noted that the “Great DLC Fight” is in no way meant to impugn Grumman’s reputation, as Commander Brown notes the pressure the company was laboring under. In many ways, the sale of the Tomcat to Iran helped save Grumman itself, as the foreign contract enabled the company to offset the losses with its US Navy contract.

CDR Brown: Another issue was the TF30s, as we were stuck with those engines because of the F-111B.

PAM: We most certainly agree and believe that saga is certainly worth telling in a subsequent post.

CDR Brown: Happy to do it.

PAM: We believe that by sticking to his guns on these points, Commander Brown’s DLC and 15-degree AOA fight saved countless lives through the Tomcat’s 30-plus years of US Navy service. A type that could have been renowned as an Ensign AND RIO Eliminator instead became a challenging but Safe type to operate at sea aboard the Carriers of the US Navy.

William Cobb’s Facebook Page Pensacola Aerospace Museum

Photo by U.S. Navy and Commander Emory Brown

December 18, 2024 0 comment

History

The F-14 pilot who disobeyed the order to return to the carrier to provide CAS support during the Battle of Roberts Ridge

by Till Daisd December 17, 2024

written by Till Daisd

Ordered to return to the ship by the AWACS after dropping all of his bombs, Lt Sidbury told everybody—including a rear admiral and a USAF general—”No”” because the guys on the ground were still taking fire

The F-14 Tomcat played a pivotal role in the early stages of the Global War on Terror, spearheading the first manned air strikes against targets in Afghanistan in October 2001. These powerful fighter-bombers, launched from aircraft carriers positioned in the Northern Arabian Sea off the coast of Pakistan, conducted extensive six- to eight-hour missions that provided critical air support for Special Forces and Northern Alliance troops battling the Taleban and al-Qaeda.

After 9/11 terrorist attacks, Fighter Squadron 211 (VF-211) deployed with Carrier Air Wing Nine aboard USS John C. Stennis (CVN 74), in an accelerated schedule that had the Fighting Checkmates aircraft flying combat missions over Afghanistan by December. The squadron distinguished itself during Operation Enduring Freedom, particularly during the three-week Operation Anaconda, where they conducted round-the-clock sorties to protect coalition forces and neutralize al-Qaeda resistance.

As told by Tony Holmes in his book F-14 Tomcat Units of Operation Enduring Freedom, VF-211’s most memorable day of fighting in OEF occurred on Mar. 4, 2002, after a SOF team was ambushed soon after dawn as they attempted to insert themselves on the ridgeline of Takur Ghar. They were heading for Objective Ginger, which had a commanding view of the entire Shah-i-Kot Valley, but al-Qaeda forces in hardened, camouflaged bunkers shot up their MH-47E just as it landed and forced the helicopter to hastily leave—crucially without Navy SEAL PO Neil Roberts.

When word reached Bagram that a soldier was missing behind enemy lines, an Army Ranger quick reaction unit scrambled in two more MH-47Es. When the first of these touched down 50 meters from the top of Takur Ghar, the enemy again targeted the helicopter and shot it down through a combination of rocket-propelled grenades and machine gun fire. Four crewmen died and others were wounded, and survivors set up defensive positions just 150 meters from one of the snow-covered al-Qaeda hunkers. They were eventually rescued at 2000 hrs, having relied exclusively on CAS support to keep the enemy at bay. Their combat controller, USAF Capt Gabe Brown (call-sign ‘Slick 01’), later told his superiors that he had handled 30 CAS sorties that day. Flying one of the jets near Takur Char was VF-211 pilot Lt Dan Buchar.

`Shortly alter dawn, I launched as part of a division of four F-14s sent into Afghanistan in support of Anaconda, having been briefed to head to the Shah-i-Kot Valley to help troops in contact as they continued to battle with enemy forces. As we headed north, the SOF MH-47E was shot down near Objective Ginger. Shortly after that, our division lead, Lt Larry Sidbury, got a call from “Bossman” [the USAF airborne AWACS] telling him that our bombs were needed straight away. We had to refuel first, however, so each jet quickly topped off its tanks and then headed independently to the target area.

‘Lt Sidbury and his RIO, Cdr Tim Fitzpatrick, who were both FAC(A)-qualified, reached Takur Ghar first and made contact with “Slick 01”. The latter was pinned down near the wreckage of the MH-47 along with the survivors of the Army Ranger quick reaction unit. Lt Sidbury and his wingman, Lt Bryan Roberts, worked directly with “Slick 01”, and they dropped ordnance within 500 metres of the friendlies.

`Ordered to return to the ship by the AWACS after dropping all of his bombs, Lt Sidbury told everybody – including a rear admiral and a USAF general – “No” because the guys in the ground were still taking fire. He got the point where he turned his radios off, thus blocking out the distraction of the “return to base” calls. Eventually relieved on station, Lt Sidbury somehow made it to the tanker before running out of fuel and recovered aboard CVN-74.

`His CO was still flying at the time, but his X0 started grilling him about why he had ignored the calls to return. At this point CAG stormed into the ready room and started to tear strips of Lt Sidbury for disobeying a direct order. A few minutes later the admiral also walked in, and everybody immediately stood to attention. His first words to Lt Sidbury were, “That’s the best thing I ever saw. Don’t you ever do Any-thing different”!’

F-14 Tomcat Units of Operation Enduring Freedom is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

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

December 17, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

The A-7 pilot that took part in the rescue of Lts Cunningham and Driscoll downed after their Epic Dogfight

by Till Daisd December 16, 2024

written by Till Daisd

Suddenly there was a call of ‘you’re on fire! Punch out! Punch out!’ Somewhere a Phantom II crew was struggling to keep their burning aircraft in the air long enough to get out over the water

The A-7 Corsair II was built by Vought as a replacement for the legendary A-4 Skyhawk, but while the latter airplane represented the most simple, basic approach to lifting a wide variety of ordnance from an aircraft carrier, the SLUF (Short, Little. Ugly, Fucker as the A-7 was nicknamed by her aircrews) evolved into arguably the most successful tactical jet bomber of the Vietnam Conflict.

The definitive version of the Corsair II for the U.S. Navy was the A-7E, which, thanks to her endurance, accuracy, and a suite of weaponry, became a favorite with forwarding Air Controllers (FACs) during the Southeast Asia War. Flying A-7E BuNo 156818/NG 404, VA-147’s Lt Norm Birzer and his flight leader, Lt Cdr Tom Gravley, performed an Iron Hand mission on May 10, 1972, out of USS Constellation (CVA-64) as part of CVW-9’s Alpha strike. They were carrying six CBUs and two AGM-45 Shrike missiles.

After launch and rendezvous, Birzer took his position to the right of the strike group, while Lt Cdr Gravley flew on the left side. Each A-7 also had an accompanying F-4 to protect the Iron Hand Corsair IIs from MiGs. Approaching the marshaling yards, there was no sign of enemy opposition—only a few stray beeps on the RHAW (Radar Homing And Warning) gear indicating radiation emissions. At 20 miles out, the A-7s split from the strike group to better line up on their selected targets. Birzer’s was a SAM site near Haiphong, while Gravley headed for a similar target near Hanoi.

The story of the A-7 Pilot that took part in the Rescue of Lts Cunningham and Driscoll downed after their Epic Dogfight

Each A-7 pilot fired one preemptive Shrike, but someone in the group, who had probably forgotten the pre-briefed plan, called ‘SAM!’ Someone else correctly answered, `No, that’s a Shrike!’

As the strikers, led by Cdr Eggert, rolled in on their runs, Birzer and Gravley descended, following the group in their turn. The airspace was getting crowded as another carrier strike group was scheduled to arrive over the same target area ten minutes later.

‘I strained to spot SAM launches’, Birzer recalled. ‘I saw no clouds of dust and no “telephone poles”. I glanced above me and could see strange, large puffs of yellow-brown smoke. I was initially confused but then realized that they were 15 to 20 SAMs that had auto-detonated at the end of their terminal guidance time—about 60 seconds from launch’. The SAMs must have all been launched ballistically to scare the strikers into diving toward the AAA zone, but the bombers did not even see them.

As told by Norman Birzer himself and Peter Mersky in their book U.S. Navy A-7 Corsair II Units of the Vietnam War, as Birzer passed north of Hai Duong, halfway through his turn, his radio erupted with a series of warning calls. Total confusion reigned as he reacted to someone’s call to break right—he was not sure the call was even meant for him. He looked up for his F-4 escort, crewed by Lts. Brian Grant and Jerry Sullivan of VF-96, which was flying straight and level. The air around him was clear, but there were many frantic calls of distress or compelling action.

‘I had the throttle two-blocked, and even with all the drag of two MERs, six CBUs, and my remaining Shrike, I was still maintaining 550 knots, heading southeast toward the beach’. After five minutes, radio discipline had returned as the strike group called ‘feet wet’. Suddenly there was a call of ‘you’re on fire! Punch out! Punch out!’ Somewhere a Phantom II crew was struggling to keep their burning aircraft in the air long enough to get out over the water.

Birzer’s secondary mission was RESCAP. As the confusion began to clear, someone broadcast that an F-4 had been shot down in the target area. Birzer had just crossed the beach, but he knew he had to turn around and head back to Hai Duong. As he rolled out of the turn, another call gave the position of the downed Phantom II. It was precisely where he happened to be!

Birzer remembers;

‘I glanced to my right and saw two parachutes close to me, just a little low me, maybe 8000 ft. I broadcast that I had spotted the ‘chutes, and started turning to orbit them. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to go back to the target area. The crew was going to land in the water a couple of miles offshore.’

As he set up his orbit as the on-scene commander, Birzer began hearing the distinctive warble of SAM terminal guidance signals. It was the first time he had heard one that day.

‘We should have been at least several miles outside the maximum SAM range from any known sites, but my Phantom II escort reported a SAM had just detonated about half a mile behind me, although I think that was an exaggeration.’

Birzer waited for the two F-4 crewmen to hit the water and start communicating with their survival radios. However, things were moving quickly, and his squadron XO, Cdr Bill Smith, who was leading his four-plane division back to the ship, ordered Birzer back, saying he would lime the role of the on-scene commander. Considering he had ordnance and gas, as well as the assigned mission, Birzer was annoyed at the turn of events, but he complied.

The unknown story of the first official American aerial victory of the Vietnam War

As it turned out, the two F-4 crewmen were Lt Randy Cunningham and Lt(jg) Bill Driscoll of VF-96, who had just shot down three MiG-17s before their Phantom II had been hit, ostensibly by a SAM.

Photo by Lt. Terry Anderson, U.S. Navy

U.S. Navy A-7 Corsair II Units of the Vietnam War is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

December 16, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

When two USAF F-15s intercepted a pilotless Soviet MiG-23 in German airspace

by Till Daisd December 15, 2024

written by Till Daisd

‘The expression “Houston, we have a problem!” would fit perfectly here. “JD” explained that there was a problem — no pilot!’ Bill “Turf” Murphy F-15 Driver

On Jul. 4, 1989, Captains J. D. “JD” Martin and Bill “Turf” Murphy checked in at the temporary Zulu facility at Soesterberg to assume the duties of ALPHA KILO ZERO-ONE, and ZERO was TWO. They were looking forward to a quiet day (no Tango scrambles) and, as the 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron (TFS) Zulu log recounts, “a good view of the fireworks.” “A good view of the fireworks” they got, “a quiet and day” they did not.

As told by Steve Davies and Doug Dildy in their book F-15 Eagle Engaged, while most of the men, women, and children associated with the 32nd TFS gathered at the “infield” between Soesterberg’s runway and the “Wolfhounds”‘ squadron area to enjoy carnival rides, hot dogs and Heinekens, and a baseball game between Ops (the pilots) and Maintenance (the maintainers), some 500nm to the east a Soviet MiG-23M “Flogger-B” was lifting off from Runway 23 at Kolobzreg, near Gdansk, Poland, its wings out at the 18.5-degree take-off setting and the Tumansky R-29-300 turbojet roaring in full afterburner.

At the controls was Colonel Nikolai Skurigin, taking off for an intercept training mission over the Baltic Sea. His “Flogger” was loaded only with 200 rounds of 23mm ammunition and full fuel tanks. Suddenly, just after raising the landing gear, at only 130-150 m (about 400ft) above the ground, the afterburner abruptly quit, and, in his mirrors, Skurigin noticed smoke trailing his aircraft. The MiG settled into a descent, and, convinced that he had an engine failure, the Russian colonel quickly ejected from his disabled aircraft.

As Col Skurigin descended safely to the ground via parachute, the MiG—its load lightened and CG shifted aft by the sudden absence of the pilot and heavy ejection seat and its Tumansky still running at a reduced power setting—pitched up slightly and began a climb. Pointed southwest, the “Flogger” climbed resolutely at its trimmed airspeed of 170 knots (take-off speed), flying across the northern part of East Germany, and arrowed into NATO airspace at 35,000ft, on a heading of 230 degrees.

That time two USAF F-15s intercepted a pilotless Soviet MiG-23 in German Airspace: the Story of the Fourth of July Alpha Scramble

When the “Bee Bop’ sounded, “JD” and “Turf” initially thought that the only other “Wolfhound” on duty that day—the supervisor of flying (SOF)—was playing a trick on them, but they responded anyway, and upon cranking engines, they learned from NIGHTCLUB (the Dutch Wing Operations Center or WOC) they had on their hands the launch all Eagle Drivers yearned for—an Alpha scramble. When “JD” blasted down Runway 13, with “Turf” only 15 seconds behind, the crowd of “Wolfhound” families eating, drinking, and playing in the infield thought they were being given an impromptu air show in honor of the holiday!

Davies and Dildy pick up the event from “Turf” Murphy’s perspective:

‘What made the 4th of July scramble different apart from the fact that it was an “enemy” MiG-23 in our airspace(!), was the extensive amount of unintentional communications jamming by our own friendly GCIs. There were at least three other GCI agencies, each thinking they had control of our flight, and all four of them did not hear each other on the ground.

‘So, due to the jamming, we were airborne for quite some time before we even knew the actual vector toward our bogey. The initial vector from the scramble order told us to go on a standard northeasterly vector (060) toward what we used to call the “Beak,” on the border of East and West Germany (some 100+ miles away). In fact, we had already leveled off at 35,000 and accelerated to supersonic speed on that northeasterly vector when we received our first piece of intelligible instructions from GCI. That’s when we’re told to “snap” to the right about 60-70 degrees (off gimbals right side). After snapping right, we immediately grabbed radar locks at about 17nm. Mind you, we are now going supersonic, as seconds earlier we believed we needed to be ‘beating feet’ to the Intra-German Border. Based on our short-range contact and incredibly fast speed, we were tally-ho our bogey in less than a minute. A short-range intercept while going supersonic, fully loaded with fuel and missiles and being mesmerized at the sight of a Russian “Flogger” in German airspace, all combined with the “Flogger” traveling at only 170KCAS [knots calibrated airspeed] made for a challenging stern conversion!

‘That’s where the eyes play tricks on you — you know, you’re looking at a MiG-23 just like the pictures you’ve studied your entire fighter pilot life, but it just doesn’t add up. What’s he doing here? Why is he alone? And why is he traveling at 170 KCAS? Meanwhile, the comm jamming just would not end! Finally, “JD” had had enough, and as boldly as he could holler into the radio, he said he would talk to only one agency (BANDBOX — the trusty Dutch GCI), and for the rest to “shut up!” Finally, the comm jamming stopped.

“However, the fun only intensified after IDing the jet as a “Flogger.” Initially, we converted to about 2nm in the trail. At that range, we could not see that the canopy, as well as the pilot, were missing. When we told GCI that we had just intercepted a “Flogger,” in disbelief they responded back to us with “Say again!” And this went on at least a dozen times. “JD” would say it was a “Flogger” and they would say “Say again!” On about the twelfth attempt, I think they finally believed us. Briefly, after they finally believed the existence of a “Flogger” in their airspace, they told us to intervene him into Laarbruch, an RAF Germany base that was essentially right below us at that time.

‘Shortly after this, the “say again” routine began again with even more fervor. I stayed back at 1nm trail, heater uncaged on him, and “JD” went in for the intervention. When he got into route formation or so, only then did he know something was really wrong. The expression “Houston, we have a problem!” would fit perfectly here. “JD” explained that there is a problem — no pilot! This is when the numerous iterations of “Say again!” began again. He told them, they would not believe him, so he told them again, and they still didn’t believe him, and so on. It must have taken 15 to 20 iterations of “JD” explaining that we had a canopy-less, ejection-seat-less, pilotless “Flogger” on our hands until they finally believed us. Then, and only then, did it all get eerily quiet. It was as if down below us, they were frantically looking through their QRA(I) manuals for what to do now. I suspect they found nothing!

‘All they said was to continue to stay with him. At our initial intercept, the “Flogger” was at 35,000ft. At this point though, it had continued to climb shallowly, obviously approaching its service ceiling for the thrust setting, and only climbing at a rate commensurate with his fuel burn. It topped out at 39,500ft, then I saw a puff of smoke and a vapor trail: it had obviously run out of gas. Then the shallow descent began.

‘It was at that point that GCI knew they had a problem developing real soon — a jet was going to crash somewhere in front of us — and pretty quickly. At that point, we were given clearance to arm hot and to engage. However, the engagement clearance was qualified with something to the effect of “only engage if you believe doing so will result in less damage on the ground than simply letting the aircraft crash on its own.” “JD” and I had plenty of time to inter-flight chat on the Aux UHF. We went through several iterations of “should we or shouldn’t we?” Our main concern was, “where will all the pieces go?” Would it actually make more sense to let the jet fall down to earth predictably in one piece than to break it into many unpredictable pieces by shooting it? At approximately 15,000ft, we began to finalize our assessment. The “Flogger” was heading for a city, which we later determined to be Lille, France, on the border of France and Belgium. Our conclusion was this: we had decided if we believed the jet would reach Lille, we would fire on it prior to the city limits in order to at least keep the wreckage on the outside of the city. We began to take particular note of the VVI vertical velocity indicator — measuring the rate of descent and mileage covered, and we concluded the “Flogger” would not reach Lille. It looked like it would crash in a relatively sparsely populated region short of the city. So, we armed safe and watched it crash into what looked to me like an empty field. As we got lower, we began to lose radio reception. So I stayed higher to act as a radio relay. From my vantage point at 6,000-10,000 or so, I did not even see it hit the house. “JD” went much lower and he did see the impact with the roof of the house — with the “Flogger” in a perfect gear-up landing attitude. The wreckage crossed the road and settled into the field beyond. Not much of fire since it was empty of fuel. We stayed on scene another 10-15 minutes or so until reaching Bingo fuel and RTB’d.’

The day after his “Flogger” crashed into a farmhouse near Kortrijk, Belgium, tragically killing the 18-year-old Belgian man in the house, Col. Skurigin publicly apologized, saying: “If I could have foreseen such tragic consequences to this pilotless flight, I would have stayed in the plane to the end.”

The sadness of the innocent’s death notwithstanding, the 32r TFS Zulu log — usually the source of lurid details of ALPHA KILO activity — entry for the day is succinct: “Nice Alpha scramble today; but, we’re under orders to kill you if we talk about it. ‘JD.’”

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

Photo by U.S. Air Force

December 15, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

The last glory days of VF-84 Jolly Rogers

by Till Daisd December 14, 2024

written by Till Daisd

“I knew about VF-84 Jolly Rogers from the movies and building models as a kid. It’s a great public relations and recruiting tool. Somebody should always ‘fly the bones’!,” Lt. Paul Ratkovich, former VF-84 Jolly Rogers F-14 pilot

The following article, titled The Last of the Jolly Rogers, was written by LCdr. Bob Frantz appeared in the September-October 1995 issue of Naval Aviation News.

The disestablishment rumors started flying early in 1994, a few months after our return aboard [Theodore Roosevelt (CVN 71)]. They were pervasive from the mess decks to the ‘O’ Club. But they didn’t make sense. We had come off a very demanding but very successful deployment. As the only F-14 squadron aboard and the battle group’s only tactical aerial reconnaissance asset, we were in great demand,” explained Commander Brad Goetsch, who shepherded the squadron toward its destiny from January 1994 to May 1995 when he was relieved as commanding officer by Commander Dan Cloyd.

Goetsch continued, “We flew in support of Operations Provide Promise and Deny Flight over Bosnia-Herzegovina and Southern Watch over Iraq. Tasking was so heavy that we set a record with 216 missions and more than 60 miles of film in support of the theater commander’s intelligence requirements. Roosevelt was frequently extended at sea to provide continuous tactical intelligence for the theater commander. We got nothing but accolades from above.”

It was mid-spring when the fighter wing commander told Cdr. Goetsch that the rumors were real. Fighter Squadron (VF) 84, NAS Oceana, Va., would be disestablished on 1 October 1995.

“I imagine it’s like being fired or forced to retire. The feeling is very personal. My initial response was to push for early disestablishment. Let’s save millions of dollars and get it over with as quickly as we can. I was concerned about morale during the 18 or so months we faced before closing the door. However, in hindsight, having time for the system to absorb our people while trying to get as many guys as possible the orders they wanted has been an advantage.”

During the interim, the easy approach would have been to fly the fun hops and go home at three. But that would not be consistent with the Brad Goetsch style. A former Atlantic Fleet Pilot of the Year and Naval Aide to the Vice President of the United States prior to reporting to VF-84, Goetsch was determined to make the most of the hand he was dealt. He explained, “We were in the process of implementing TQL [Total Quality Leadership], and I thought we could apply TQL principles to make the disestablishment as efficient and effective as possible.

“It was obvious we would no longer be on the tip of the spear, but with no air wing or ship commitments, we would no longer have to contend with the primary disadvantage in this business—long-term family separation. We would have the freedom to pursue the kind of flying fighter crews live for—tactical training without deployment interference—and we could get our troops as much career-enhancing schooling as possible.”

The squadron scheduled a four-day TQL retreat to plan its approach to the disestablishment. The Executive Steering Committee, consisting of CO, X0, department heads, Command Master Chief, and Maintenance Master Chief, augmented by other selected officers and sailors, met and decided that the Jolly Rogers still had something to offer. Their focus was on VF-84’s TARPS (Tactical Air Reconnaissance Pod System) capability. They argued, “We have what is badly needed—combat-ready TARPS with Iraq and Bosnia-experienced aircrews.” They wanted the chance to make their case to the top brass.

“The cohesiveness and spirit demonstrated by what could have been an unmotivated group were inspiring,” Goetsch continued. “Instead of giving up and feeling sorry for themselves, these guys were saying, ‘Hey, it’s us against the world, and we can show them that we are too good to be given up on.’ Though I knew our efforts would probably be futile, the benefits of fighting as a team until the very end made the final outcome seem unimportant. We developed a tactical reconnaissance proposal identifying our capability and making it known we were ready and would go on short notice anywhere needed, ashore or afloat. We also committed to pursuing the most aggressive training schedule possible. We were a funded fighter squadron and we were determined to be the best.”

The original plan was for VF-84 to move from Carrier Air Wing (CVW) 8 to CVW-7 in January 1995. VF-143 was scheduled to undergo a major F-14B aircraft upgrade. The changes made in their aircraft were to be so extensive and done at such a rate, in terms of a number of aircraft that would be unavailable to the squadron at one time, that it would force VF-143 to the sidelines as a deployable squadron for about two years. VF-84 was to spend 1995 working up with CVW-7 and deploy with it aboard George Washington (CVN 73) in early 1996.

“In anticipation of the air wing switch, we chopped to Fighter Wing, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, in April 1994,” Cdr. Goetsch explained. “During that time frame, the VF-143 upgrade was reprogrammed so that their workups and scheduled deployment would not be impacted. Obviously, there was no longer a need for us to move to CVW-7. Since we weren’t part of a deployable air wing, we became a target during the downsizing.”

Lieutenant Commander Steve Mooradian, VF-84’s Administration Department Head, was worried when he first heard the rumors about the squadron going away. “I had just bought a house and we heard all kinds of things like we would be sent to fill billets in Japan,” he said. “It was depressing to think the Navy was going to disband the Jolly Rogers with all that its symbol and reputation had come to mean. The uncertainty was the worst part. I thought we’d be picked apart. They’d take our people and aircraft and we’d soon be unable to function as a squadron. I thought we’d be a squadron in name only—a skeleton—and I feared safety and morale would be a major issue.” But he was happy to add, “That didn’t happen because of Skipper Goetsch and XO Cloyd. They are class guys who care about people. We also had a strong fighter wing commander who went to bat for us.”

Although Mooradian, along with pilot Lieutenant Scott Leach, augmented VF-41 during one of its sea periods, he feels that being in a disbanding squadron has been a “double-edged sword.” He explained, “I’ve lost some experience in terms of going to the boat, but tactically I’m ahead of where I would have been. We don’t have to spend time or fuel money for [field carrier landing practice] preparing for the boat. Also, training from land allows more time in each hop for tactics.

“Since October 1994, we have taken advantage of Air Force funding contributions by making three deployments to the Air Force Weapons and Tactics Center at Nellis AFB, Nev., where we had the opportunity to fight against the best in the Air Force,” Mooradian continued. “In the same seven-month period, we deployed to a Marine Corps expeditionary airfield at 29 Palms, Calif., to participate in a major live-fire CAX [combined arms exercise]. We lived in tents, ate field rations, and flew from aluminum-matted runways, dropping 187 live bombs in a two-week period—hardly typical for an F-14 squadron. In each case, prior to deploying, we fought against anybody and everybody on the East Coast who wanted to play.

https://aircraftprofileprints.com/f-14-tomcat/50-f-14a-tomcat-vf-84-jolly-rogers-aj200-160393-1977.html?utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=agc&utm_source=aviation-wings.com

“Most importantly, I won’t lose the carrier experience,” he added. Before joining VF-84, Mooradian was a former radar intercept officer (RIO) turned pilot, so his sea duty had been limited. “Although I don’t relish being the guy nobody knows when you start over, I’m very happy to be going to VF-103 and flying the F-14B for a full three-year tour.”

Cdr. Goetsch was concerned that VF-84’s junior officer aircrew would suffer the greatest negative career impact because they would have less shipboard experience than their peers. However, he, Cdr. Cloyd, the fighter wing commander and Bureau of Naval Personnel (BUPERS) detailers worked aggressively to obtain orders that would help them overcome this disadvantage.

VF-84’s most junior pilot, Lt. Paul Ratkovich, joined the Jolly Rogers in mid-cruise aboard Roosevelt in June 1993. When he learned of the planned disestablishment, Ratkovich said, “I thought my career was about to end. I’m an Aviation Officer Candidate with a reserve commission. In an environment where so many reserve officers were being involuntarily released from active duty, this effectively moved up my planned rotation date by a year. I was also disappointed about the patch going away. I knew about the Jolly Rogers from the movies and building models as a kid. It’s a great public relations and recruiting tool. Somebody should always ‘fly the bones’!”

Ratkovich had applied for regular officer augmentation every six months for two years. In November 1994, after four augmentation boards, he was accepted as a regular officer. A few months later, he learned he would be going to VF-103 for a two-year tour.

“Although I’m light in carrier experience, I’ll make that up with another cruise in VF-103, and I know I’m far ahead of where I’d normally be tactically thanks to the Jolly Rogers.”

Ratkovich remembered, “One day at Nellis I was fighting a guy in an F-15C with 2,000 hours in type and here I was with 300 hours in my jet and I was beating him. This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t me, it was our squadron training and leadership. Not only are Skipper Goetsch and X0 Cloyd as good as it gets in the cockpit, but they have also created an atmosphere that encourages the development of aggressive fighter crews. We’ve learned if you fight well, you can defeat someone in a superior aircraft. In VF-84 we are encouraged to be innovative tactically.”

Ratkovich’s backseater, RIO Lt. Kevin Sidenstricker, joined VF-84 during its last cruise in July 1993. A former Aviation Electronics Technician Second Class in VF-1, Sidenstricker said, “When I heard the news, I thought we were going to be put on the shelf. Forget things like Top Gun [Navy Fighter Weapons School] and Forward Air Controller (Airborne) quotas. Losing things like that limits our junior officers’ competitiveness. But that didn’t happen due to accommodations made for us by the fighter wing.”

Remembering the last glory days of VF-84 Jolly Rogers

Sidenstricker, who will report to VF-41 for a two-year tour and was recently selected for augmentation, reflected, “Looking back, this has been interesting. Since March 1994 we’ve had no aircrew check-ins. That means no new factors in unit cohesiveness and crew coordination. You constantly hear from others at Oceana that they’ve never seen a tighter ready room in terms of personal relationships. Knowing we are the last of the Jolly Rogers has kept us tight.

“[…] Of course, no new guys also means there are fewer guys left to share the existing workload. As a junior officer, I am holding two fairly responsible and unrelated billets—Legal Officer and Operations Schedule Writer. The only thing I wish was different is that we would have had an opportunity to go to the boat, especially for the pilots. After all, an F-14 squadron is a naval asset.”

Not surprisingly, VF-84 led all Fighter Wing, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, units in joint operations participation during Cdr. Goetsch’s tenure as CO. And, amazingly, considering that the F-14A is now in its third decade of service life, the Jolly Rogers achieved a 99.6-percent sortie rate by completing 666 of 668 scheduled joint air combat training sorties.

“[…] Joint operations, especially with the Air Force, have. provided us with more bang for the buck,” explained Jolly Rogers’ Operations Officer LCdr. Gordon Carter. “We bring our aircraft, fuel, and ordnance. They pay per diem expenses, hotels, and local transportation. They also pay for the sophisticated ranges we use during those deployments.”

He said, “We have more requests than we can handle. They like us because they know they’ll get a good fight. They know we have a reputation for being very innovative and they’re likely to see tactics they’ve not seen before. We also have a reputation for not ‘gaming it.’ In other words, we don’t cheat. We’re professional in presentation; we’ll fit the scenario they want. By the same token, when we have a specific training interest, they’ll meet our requirements.”

Cdr. Cloyd, the squadron’s last commanding officer, the officer who participated in the first Navy airstrike of Desert Storm, stressed, “We need to continue to hone the edge. We pushed really hard to go through [the Strike Fighter Air Combat Readiness Program] in June and July. It’s important to maintain the war-fighting focus until the day we turn out the lights . . . VF-84 may cease to exist, but the Jolly Roger spirit and capability will live on in other squadrons.”

Cdr. Brad Goetsch, a quiet, modest gentleman whose personality and leadership style, according to many he commanded, contradicts his aggressiveness in the cockpit, is philosophical about not having had the opportunity to take his squadron to the boat. “It’s timing. I wasn’t the first guy it happened to and am not likely to be the last,” he acknowledged. “I am very proud of this squadron and honored to have been its CO. We took on an aggressive operations plan and did very well. In the past 18 months, we flew more joint operation hours and sorties than all other F-14 squadrons combined. We delivered more live ordnance than any other squadron in the Navy. We were the first Tomcat squadron to operate out of an expeditionary airfield and participate in a major live-fire CAX. During Green Flag 95-3, we outperformed Air Force F-15s, F-16s, F-111s, and Navy/Marine Corps F/A-18s in both the fighter and strike roles.

“We sent two crews to Top Gun and two crews to the Marine Aviation Weapons and Tactics Squadron. We sent one junior RIO, who needed deployment experience, on a cruise with VF-111 and we sent one junior pilot for three months to work on the staff of Joint Task Force Southwest Asia, which oversees our operations over Iraq. And our commitment to schooling paid off as our advancement rate was double that of any other Atlantic Fleet F-14 squadron,” Goetsch noted.

Cdr. Goetsch described the Jolly Roger “skull and crossbones” as “the most well-known combat aviation symbol in the world. In flight training, people want to go to the squadron with the skull and bones.” For over 40 years, VF-84’s heritage, tradition, and pride have promoted a spirit of survival: “Who wants to fight? Bring ’em on!” This attitude has served its members well during the disestablishment process and has secured for the squadron a lofty place in the history of Naval Aviation.

Photo by TSgt. M.D. Lynchard, PH2 Bruce R. Trombecky, LCDR Dave Parsons / U.S. Navy

December 14, 2024 0 comment

History

The SR-71 Blackbird that outran Gaddafi’s SAMs during a BDA flight

by Till Daisd December 13, 2024

written by Till Daisd

“It is a race the SR-71 will not let us lose. The Mach eases to 3.5 as we crest 80,000 feet. We are a bullet now – except faster. Screaming past Tripoli, our phenomenal speed continues to rise, and the screaming Sled pummels the enemy one more time, laying down a parting sonic boom…”

SR-71 Blackbird Vs Gaddafi’s SAMs.

Operation El Dorado Canyon started airstrikes against Libya on April 14, 1986, after Libya bombed a discotheque in Berlin that US military men frequented. A strike group of 18 U.S. Air Force (USAF) F-111s attacked with the support of multiple A-6, A-7, and F/A-18 aircraft from the U.S. Navy and U.S. Marine Corps (USMC).

After the raid, on April 16, 1986, Maj. Brian Shul and RSO Maj. Walter Watson piloted SR-71 #64-17960 into Libyan airspace at a speed of 2,125 mph in order to take pictures of the targets for bomb damage assessment (BDA). As they neared the end of their sweeps, they started receiving launch indications from Libyan surface-to-air missile (SAM) sites below.

In his book Sled Driver, Shul himself narrates how the SR-71’s amazing performance allowed them to hold their course, outrun the missiles, and make a safe return to RAF Mildenhall.

“In April 1986, following an attack on American soldiers in a Berlin disco, President Reagan ordered the bombing of Muammar Qaddafi’s terrorist camps in Libya. My duty was to fly over Libya and take photos recording the damage our F-111s had inflicted. Qaddafi had established a ‘line of death,’ a territorial marking across the Gulf of Sidra, swearing to shoot down any intruder that crossed the boundary. On the morning of April 15, I rocketed past the line at 2,125 mph.

I was piloting the SR-71 spy plane, the world’s fastest jet, accompanied by Maj Walter Watson, the aircraft’s reconnaissance systems officer (RSO). We had crossed into Libya and were approaching our final turn over the bleak desert landscape when Walter informed me that he was receiving missile launch signals. I quickly increased our speed, calculating the time it would take for the weapons-most likely SA-2 and SA-4 surface-to-air missiles capable of Mach 5 – to reach our altitude. I estimated that we could beat the rocket-powered missiles to the turn and stayed our course, betting our lives on the plane’s performance.

That time an RA-5C Vigilante took a picture of a SA-2 surface to air missile passing just 104 feet from its belly — SA-2 Surface-to-Air Missile on display in the Southeast Asia War Gallery at the National Museum of the United States Air Force.

After several agonizingly long seconds, we made the turn and blasted toward the Mediterranean. ‘You might want to pull it back,’ Walter suggested. It was then that I noticed I still had the throttles full forward. The plane was flying a mile every 1.6 seconds, well above our Mach 3.2 limit. It was the fastest we would ever fly. I pulled the throttles to idle just south of Sicily, but we still overran the refueling tanker awaiting us over Gibraltar.

[…] With the Libyan coast fast approaching now, Walt asks me for the third time, if I think the jet will get to the speed and altitude we want in time. I tell him yes. I know he is concerned. He is dealing with the data; that’s what engineers do, and I am glad he is. But I have my hands on the stick and throttles and can feel the heart of a thoroughbred, running now with the power and perfection she was designed to possess. I also talk to her. Like the combat veteran she is, the jet senses the target area and seems to prepare herself.

For the first time in two days, the inlet door closes flush and all vibration is gone. We’ve become so used to the constant buzzing that the jet sounds quiet now in comparison. The Mach correspondingly increases slightly and the jet is flying in that confidently smooth and steady style we have so often seen at these speeds. We reach our target altitude and speed, with five miles to spare. Entering the target area, in response to the jet’s newfound vitality, Walt says, ‘That’s amazing’ and with my left hand pushing two throttles farther forward, I think to myself that there is much they don’t teach in engineering school.

Out my left window, Libya looks like one huge sandbox. A featureless brown terrain stretches all the way to the horizon. There is no sign of any activity. Then Walt tells me that he is getting lots of electronic signals, and they are not the friendly kind. The jet is performing perfectly now, flying better than she has in weeks. She seems to know where she is. She likes the high Mach, as we penetrate deeper into Libyan airspace. Leaving the footprint of our sonic boom across Benghazi, I sit motionless, with stilled hands on throttles and the pitch control, my eyes glued to the gauges.

Only the Mach indicator is moving, steadily increasing in hundredths, in a rhythmic consistency similar to the long-distance runner who has caught his second wind and picked up the pace. The jet was made for this kind of performance and she wasn’t about to let an errant inlet door make her miss the show. With the power of forty locomotives, we puncture the quiet African sky and continue farther south across a bleak landscape.

Walt continues to update me with numerous reactions he sees on the DEF panel. He is receiving missile tracking signals. With each mile we traverse, every two seconds, I become more uncomfortable driving deeper into this barren and hostile land. I am glad the DEF panel is not in the front seat. It would be a big distraction now, seeing the lights flashing. In contrast, my cockpit is ‘quiet’ as the jet purrs and relishes her newfound strength, continuing to slowly accelerate.

The spikes are full aft now, tucked twenty-six inches deep into the nacelles. With all inlet doors tightly shut, at 3.24 Mach, the J-58s are more like ramjets now, gulping 100,000 cubic feet of air per second. We are a roaring express now, and as we roll through the enemy’s backyard, I hope our speed continues to defeat the missile radars below. We are approaching a turn, and this is good. It will only make it more difficult for any launched missile to solve the solution for hitting our aircraft.

I push the speed up at Walt’s request. The jet does not skip a beat, nothing fluctuates, and the cameras have a rock-steady platform. Walt received missile launch signals. Before he can say anything else, my left hand instinctively moves the throttles yet farther forward. My eyes are glued to temperature gauges now, as I know the jet will willingly go to speeds that can harm her. The temps are relatively cool and from all the warm temps we’ve encountered thus far, this surprises me but then, it really doesn’t surprise me. Mach 3.31 and Walt are quiet for the moment.

I move my gloved finder across the small silver wheel on the autopilot panel which controls the aircraft’s pitch. With the deft feel known to Swiss watchmakers, surgeons, and ‘dinosaurs’ (old-time pilots who not only fly an airplane but ‘feel it’), I rotate the pitch wheel somewhere between one-sixteenth and one-eighth inch location, a position which yields the 500-foot-per-minute climb I desire. The jet raises her nose one-sixth of a degree and knows I’ll push her higher as she goes faster. The Mach continues to rise, but during this segment of our route, I am in no mood to pull throttles back.

Walt’s voice pierces the quiet of my cockpit with the news of more missile launch signals. The gravity of Walter’s voice tells me that he believes the signals to be a more valid threat than the others. Within seconds he tells me to ‘push it up’ and I firmly press both throttles against their stops. For the next few seconds, I will let the jet go as fast as she wants. A final turn is coming up and we both know that if we can hit that turn at this speed, we most likely will defeat any missiles. We are not there yet, though, and I’m wondering if Walt will call for a defensive turn off our course.

The story of the SR-71 Blackbird that outran Gaddafi's SAMs during a BDA flight of Libya in support of Operation Eldorado Canyon

With no words spoken, I sense Walter is thinking in concert with me about maintaining our programmed course. To keep from worrying, I glance outside, wondering if I’ll be able to visually pick up a missile aimed at us. Odd are the thoughts that wander through one’s mind in times like these. I found myself recalling the words of former SR-71 pilots who were fired upon while flying missions over North Vietnam. They said the few errant missile detonations they were able to observe from the cockpit looked like implosions rather than explosions. This was due to the great speed at which the jet was hurling away from the exploding missile.

I see nothing outside except the endless expanse of a steel blue sky and the broad patch of tan earth far below. I have only had my eyes out of the cockpit for seconds, but it seems like many minutes since I have last checked the gauges inside. Returning my attention inward, I glance first at the miles counter telling me how many more to go, until we can start our turn. Then I note the Mach, and passing beyond 3.45, I realize that Walter and I have attained new personal records. The Mach continues to increase. The ride is incredibly smooth.

There seems to be a confirmed trust now, between me and the jet; she will not hesitate to deliver whatever speed we need, and I can count on no problems with the inlets. Walt and I are ultimately depending on the jet now – more so than normal – and she seems to know it. The cooler outside temperatures have awakened the spirit born into her years ago when men dedicated to excellence took the time and care to build her well. With spikes and doors as tight as they can get, we are racing against the time it could take a missile to reach our altitude.

It is a race this jet will not let us lose. The Mach eases to 3.5 as we crest 80,000 feet. We are a bullet now – except faster. We hit the turn, and I feel some relief as our nose swings away from a country we have seen quite enough of. Screaming past Tripoli, our phenomenal speed continues to rise, and the screaming Sled pummels the enemy one more time, laying down a parting sonic boom. In seconds, we can see nothing but the expansive blue of the Mediterranean. I realize that I still have my left hand full forward and we’re continuing to rocket along in maximum afterburner.

The TDI now shows us Mach numbers, not only new to our experience but flat out scary. Walt says the DEF panel is now quiet, and I know it is time to reduce our incredible speed. I pull the throttles to the min ‘burner range and the jet still doesn’t want to slow down. Normally the Mach would be affected immediately when making such a large throttle movement. But for just a few moments old 960 just sat out there at the high Mach, she seemed to love and like the proud Sled she was, only began to slow when we were well out of danger.

Photo by Pinterest, U.S. Air Force

December 13, 2024 0 comment

History

The death of Luftwaffe Super Ace Walter Nowotny

by Till Daisd December 12, 2024

written by Till Daisd

Me 262 Schwalbe

The Me 262 Schwalbe, the first turbojet aircraft in the world to fly, was created from a 1938 Messerschmitt company design. When it was first flown on July 18, 1942, under jet power, it outperformed traditional aircraft in speed. Development issues (especially its temperamental engines), Allied bombings, and cautious Luftwaffe leadership all played a part in the manufacturing delays.

The Me 262 was the first jet aircraft to be employed in combat, attacking a British photo-reconnaissance Mosquito above Munich on July 25, 1944. As a fighter, the German jet scored heavily against Allied bomber formations.

The war against the jets intensifies

The war against the jets intensified in November as the Luftwaffe increased its sortie rate with the Me 262. Oberfahnrich Willi Banahaff of 3./ Kommando Nowotny was forced to bail out after an encounter with P-51s over Holland on the first day of the month, while 24 hours later there was some cheer when Feldwebel Erich Buttner shot down a P-51 and a P-47. However, this event was tempered by the loss of three more jets to Mustangs on Nov. 4.

In his book Me 262 Units in Combat, Robert Forsyth explains how Generalmajor Adolf Galland, the General der Jagdflieger, arrived at Achmer on November 7 for an inspection. Galland was already worried about the growing losses being suffered by his only jet fighter unit. The Kommando managed to send out only four jets in two missions against the bombers the following day as the USAAF bombed Nordhorn Canal and the marshaling yards at Rheine.

There was an inauspicious beginning when Walter Nowotny found that he was unable to start his aircraft for the first mission in the morning, while another machine suffered a burst tire. In the second mission that afternoon, Nowotny finally took off to engage the enemy. During his subsequent encounter, he shot down a four-engined bomber and a P-51, but as he returned home, he was apparently intercepted by an American fighter. A short while later, Nowotny’s crackling voice was heard over the radio.

The death of Luftwaffe Super Ace Walter Nowotny

‘We stepped into the open’, Galland later wrote. ‘Visibility was not good—six-tenths cloud. Seconds later, an Me 262 appeared out of the cloud and dived vertically into the ground. There was black smoke and an explosion’. Nowotny’s last words, though garbled, indicated that his aircraft was hit and on fire, and seconds later he crashed to his death.

The death of Major Walter Nowotny (An Austrian recipient of the highest award to the Knight’s Cross, the Diamonds, he had been credited with 255 victories while flying with I./JG 54 in the Soviet Union) effectively marked the end of the Kommando that bore his name, and it had not been a particularly glorious chapter in the history of the Me 262. Of around 30 Me 262s delivered to the unit, 26 are known to have been lost for one reason or another, the greater part through combat or indirectly as a result of combat or, equally worryingly, because of take-off or landing accidents and malfunctions.

However, Nowotny’s name, together with the aircraft that his unit had flown, would re-emerge as the honor title adopted by a much larger, more structured interceptor unit over the forthcoming weeks.

Me 262 Units in Combat is published by Osprey Publishing is available to order here.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

December 12, 2024 0 comment

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