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Ex Egyptian MiG pilots offer a novel viewpoint on Israel’s “pre-emptive” attack on EAF airfields during the Six-Day War

by Till Daisd December 1, 2021

‘I called him to ask what was happening. He answered, “It’s fantastic, they are attacking the dummy planes on the old runway! The real planes, which had been hidden under cover, weren’t attacked. None of these were hit during the first two attacks,’” EAF MiG pilot Tahir Zaki’s phone conversation with Wg Cdr Mamdouh Taliba

The Israeli attack on four Arab air groups on June 5, 1967, known as “Operation Moked” (“Focus”), has essentially already been covered in great detail. One of history’s most lauded and successful military missions was this one. Simply put: that fateful morning’s “pre-emptive” Israeli onslaught on Egyptian airfields in Sinai, on the Suez Canal, and elsewhere destroyed the UARAF’s fighting capacity (United Arab Republic Air Force, designation of Egyptian and Syrian air forces between 1958 and 1962, and of the Egyptian Air Force until 1969). The IDF/AF also defeated Egyptian resistance by maintaining multiple strike waves over important enemy airfields for most of the day.

According to Tom Cooper and David Nicolle in their book Arab MiGs, Volume 1, on June 5, 1967, six MiG-15s and MiG-17s were flying above Egypt early in the morning. At daybreak, two MiG-17s from No.18 Squadron conducted a CAP above Israel’s border. At least two MiG-15s departed for a training operation at 8:00 a.m. from one of the Suez Canal airfields that were unhindered by the early-morning fog.

El-Arish AB was the target of rocket and cannon fire from Israeli fighter planes at around 08:45 local time. The attack by the Ouragans was so unexpected that the majority of the MiG-17s of the No. 18 Squadron were destroyed before their crews could even understand what was happening. A MiG pilot for the Egyptian Air Force (EAF) could only draw the following conclusion:

`There was no warning at all. The aircraft at el-Arish were completely wiped out. In the evening of that day, pilots and ground crews were sent back to Cairo.’

Somewhat inaccurately, another EAF MiG pilot, Tahsin Zaki later complained: `It is important to point out that in June 1967, the Israelis attacked el-Arish air-field ten minutes before the rest of our airbases, and that the whole battle could have been different if the commander at el-Arish had contacted Meliz AB via the hotline.’

Former Egyptian MiG pilots provide an unprecedented perspective on Six-Day War

Other UARAF airfields were not attacked earlier than El-Arish. A formation of Mirage IIICJs hit Bir Thamada at the exact same moment. FM Fawzy (Maj-Gen, Egyptian Army Chief of Staff for Operations) did, however, later offer a potential explanation for why Israel was able to quickly neutralize No.18 Squadron and el-Arish AB. He claimed that the CO el-Arish AB worked for the Israelis for most of the 1960s and divulged all the specifics of his directives to them.

While Kabrit was the center of UARAF MiG-15 and MiG-17 missions at the same time as el-Arish and Bir Thamada, the IDF/AF did not classify Kabrit as a “major target.” However, SMB.2s from No. 105 Squadron, under the command of Yakov Nevo, launched a sustained attack on it. EAF MiG pilot Mustafa Hafez found himself frantically looking for a functioning aircraft to take off and fight back as a result of this causing significant damage:

`I was not actually due to fly that morning. Around 08:20 hrs I was in the mess since I was due to fly later that day. No particular aircraft had been allocated to me since this was normal in our air force. We flew what was available. Suddenly I heard explosions and went outside the mess, and asked people what was going on. Someone said that it must be practiced somewhere. That was when I saw an Israeli aircraft attacking, very low from south to north, coming in towards the runway. It was a Super Mystére.

‘My first instinct was to run towards a ditch, but as soon as I got there I said to myself, “what am I doing here like an idiot?” So I ran to the squadron bus so I could get to the squadron headquarters. There I found the regimental CO. He had previously been my squadron leader at Abu Suweir. His name was Mamdouh Taliba, an excellent man. He was actually heading for his car so I went up to the passenger door. The CO drove to the nearest available aircraft, and I helped strap him in, though we weren’t absolutely sure that this aircraft was ready to go. Just as he was about to close the hood I noticed that the safety pin of the ejector seat was still in, so I pulled it out. I think he took off on a sub-runway as the main runway had already been hit.’

The Israelis were occupied engaging two I1-14s, the aircraft carrying FM Amer (Egyptian Minister of War) and his entourage, which were now flying directly in the middle of their attack, so Wing Commander Mamdouh Taliba and another pilot from No. 31 Squadron were able to launch their attack without being interrupted by SMB.2s. Before the Israeli formation was caught by two MiG-21s and lost two of its own aircraft, both means of transportation were declared as shot down.

Actually, the I1-14 carrying the Iraqi Defense Minister and Egyptian Minister Hussein el-Shafie arrived at Fayid safely before the location first came under attack (and their 11-14 destroyed on the ground). However, after Fayid AB was attacked as well, the aircraft carrying Amer was forced to abort the landing. It turned and crossed over Inchas. Amer gave the pilot the go-ahead to head toward Cairo West after spotting this base on fire. All the time, additional Israeli fighters were flashing by. In the most important phases of the war, the Egyptian military’s Supreme Commander was cut off from his headquarters.

After this initial attack, there was a short break, and Mustafa Hafez continued looking for a serviceable aircraft.

‘Then I tried to find another aircraft. They were all either damaged or being serviced or were not ready to go. Then I went to hangar….’

Around 08:50 hrs., a second attack on Bir Thamada occurred, and the pilots of No. 25 Squadron hurried to take off. A number of them took off as the base was attacked by Ouragans, who claimed to have destroyed six MiGs. The final UARAF jets that attempted to roll for takeoff were less fortunate; both MiG-17s blew up after taking numerous hits from Israeli cannon fire. Nothing comparable occurred at el-Sur; all of the MiG-15bis from the No. 24 Squadron that were still parked there, along with a few MiG-17s from the No. 18 Squadron, were destroyed on the ground.

Meliz AB also managed to scramble numerous MiG-17s despite being hit by Israeli Ouragans at roughly 08:55 hrs. in June 1967 and despite not being a typical MiG-17-base. However, their pilots were instructed to fly toward the direction of the West rather than fighting weaker opponents. With this, the forces of Air Group 2 and 12 consisting of MiG-15 and MiG-17 aircraft stationed in Sinai practically ceased to exist.

In the Canal Zone, the situation on the airfields was getting worse. Around 8:55 a.m., SMB.2s from No. 105 Squadron launched a second attack on Kabrit. The two MiG-17s piloted by Wg Cdr Mamdouh Taliba sighted the Israelis over the base as they were still climbing. The Egyptians tried to escape by turning on their afterburners, but the Israeli formation’s Number 2 first reported damage on a MiG-17’s engine and left wing before claiming that the aircraft had been shot down in a subsequent strike. While the available Egyptian sources dispute any such loss, the commander of the Israeli formation confirmed that this MiG crashed. Mustafa Hafez’s search for an operable aircraft ultimately succeeded as Israeli jets were once more occupied with defying orders and fighting in the air:

‘By this time mechanics started coming back after running away as the first bombs fell. That was when I took off in an available MiG-17F. I didn’t even check if it was armed but only asked if it had been refueled. I took off on a sub-runway. By that time, Mamdouh Taliba landed. I didn’t have any plans, only to try and defend the airfield. Once I was up in the air I could see the smoke from other airfields which had been attacked. I hadn’t even cleared my take-off with the control tower, I just took off. Nor did I have any idea what the rest of the squadron was doing. Then I saw something flying very low. It was a Mirage going west to east, so I half rolled in behind it. It was probably doing a reconnaissance as it was on its own and was not attacking targets on the ground. As I followed it I tried to load [cock] my guns three times, but my MiG- 17 was too slow to keep up and after a while, the Mirage just flew off. Of course, I was angry and frustrated because I was unable to shoot down that Mirage. There was a switch in the cockpit that changed the armament from rockets to guns. And I wasn’t the only pilot to make the same mistake. Hisham Said Abdu, who was another instructor, did the same thing.

‘Almost immediately after that, I saw something else very low with a long exhaust of smoke. It crashed into the Suez Canal. I thought it might have been one of my colleagues but in fact, it was probably a SAM. Then, I landed safely. Another of our pilots tried to take off using the main runway but hit some bomb damage which damaged his aircraft so that he had to eject while still on the ground. He survived but he was very lucky because the minimum height for ejecting was supposed to be 250 meters. His name was Muhammad al-Hadidi. This happened after I had landed.’

The attack on Cairo West, a significant UARAF MiG-17 base, was likely carried out using the Mirage Hafez that was trying to launch the attack. A formation from No. 101 Squadron IDF/AF attacked the airfield at precisely 9:00 a.m., claiming strikes on at least three MiG-17 aircraft. However, a few MiGs were still flying because Wg Cdr Zohair Shalabi scrambled with two wingmen right away. Helwan AB in order to scatter his aircraft after spending some time on a CAP. He arrived there at around 09:30 hrs.

The UARAF pilots at Bir Thamada thought they had been under attack continuously for 15 minutes since they had been hit three times in quick succession. Around 9:00 a.m., the final intact MiG-17 on the ground was destroyed by Mystéres of No. 109 Squadron, marking the end of the airfield’s use as a fighter base. Flight Lieutenant Hashim Mustafa Hassan of the No. 25 Squadron reported the peculiar circumstance that emerged only a short while later when another Israeli formation flew overhead:

`Some 30 seconds from the end of the attack, a second wave of planes arrived… We ran about the desert, looking for cover, but the planes didn’t shoot. They merely circled, their pilots surprised that the base was completely destroyed and that no targets remained. We were the only targets… weak humans scurrying in the desert with handguns as our only means of self-defense. It was a sad comedy… pilots of the newest and best-equipped jets fighting with handguns. Five minutes after the beginning of the attack, the planes disappeared and silence prevailed that encompassed the desert and the noise that destroyed our planes and the airbase, and the squadron. They completed their assignment in the best way possible, with a ratio of losses —100 percent for us, 0 percent for them.’

The third Israeli attack on Kabrit occurred around 9:10 a.m., and then another one occurred at 9:25 a.m. This time, up to 18 MiG-15s and MiG-17s were reportedly destroyed on the ground by Super Mystére B.2s of No. 105 Squadron and Mystére IVAs of No. 109 Squadron IDF/AF, increasing the total to 30 since the war started. However, Wg Cdr Mamdouh Taliba stated a completely different scenario when MiG pilot Tahir Zaki called him, sometimes after 9:00 a.m. local time, suggesting that their statements were probably certainly exaggerated:

‘I called him to ask what was happening. He answered, “It’s fantastic, they are attacking the dummy planes on the old runway! The real planes, which had been hidden undercover, weren’t attacked. None of these were hit during the first two attacks. But there were about eight or nine open pens and these had one aircraft in each of them. Some of these were attacked.” These were the only real planes that the Israelis attacked. We also had very big hangars at Kabrit, so we put four MiG-17s in each, one in each corner of the hangar where they were less likely to be hit. And they weren’t.’

The Israelis, on the other hand, only acknowledged being duped by Egypt’s dummy planes at Abu Suweir and Cairo West because they thought the majority of them were constructed of inflatable rubber rather than wood.

However, Mustafa Hafez was forced to flee under the most hazardous conditions a second time following the subsequent attack on Kabrit:

`Very soon afterward I took off again in a different aircraft. This was a MiG- 17PF [serial number 2803]. There had been no time for me to report or to be debriefed. I merely changed aircraft. As I started the engine the airfield came under attack again, perhaps it was the second or third attack. I was still inside the hanger, in the cockpit, when I heard the attack. I cleared the hanger doors at full throttle and afterburner. The aircraft was swerving and rocking from side to side as I turned, first to the left to clear another hanger which was facing my hanger, then to the right along a taxiway, then to the left again to cross a small railway line that ran between the hangers and the main sub-runway, then sharp right onto that sub-runway. I was afraid the wingtips would hit the ground. I took off without a pause and climbed as steep as I could, but the enemy had gone. Taliba had also taken off during the attack.’

Wg Cdr Taliba joined Hafez once they were in the air, and the two formed a CAP over Kabrit. They remained in the air until approximately the time of the sixth Israeli raid on Kabrit, which occurred at around 09:40 hrs.

‘He [Taliba] joined me and told me to accompany him as his Number Two (wingman). As I was joining him I saw a SAM coming towards us. We avoided it but Taliba ordered me to land as I only had 450 liters of fuel left. Taliba had landed and I was on my final approach at a height of about 15 to 20 meters when Taliba shouted over the radio, “Hafez! You have aircraft ahead of you!” So I retracted my undercarriage and flap, gave the aircraft full throttle and afterburner. The Israelis were about 100 meters ahead of me. I counted them, one, two, three, four; so I pulled up and tried to follow the last one. But this meant leaving the turn a bit late. I should have turned earlier. The Israelis were a bit lower than me. All five of us started circling, then one came at me head-on and opened fire. This made me so angry that I swore out loud. The Israeli turned to the right. I turned first to the left and then to the right to try and follow him. A head-on attack is very difficult.

‘That was when I was hit in the right wing. We were all flying at about 200 or 300 meters. My right aileron was damaged and I continued turning right, unable to straighten out, so I gained height. The Israeli couldn’t keep with me as a MiG-17 is better in a climb. My aircraft juddered several times and almost went into a spin. I thought it odd that it tried to spin under those conditions [this was perhaps when his aircraft was hit a second time, in the tail and rear fuselage]. While three of the Israeli aircraft attacked our airfield, the fourth one followed me. After the three have strafed the field, the fourth one did the same, then they all flew home.

Meanwhile, I was still turning to the right, unable to straighten up. As I lined up on a runway I used the aileron trim to straighten out. This wasn’t standard procedure. I don’t know if I invented it or maybe it just came by instinct, but it worked. I had no communication with the ground, but I landed OK. The MiG had been badly damaged. The right wing was damaged, the lower part of the rudder had mostly been shot away, the main control rod to the stabilizer was much damaged. The rear fuel tank had also been hit but fortunately, it had been almost empty, and although there had been a fire in the tank, and the alarm had been set off in my cockpit, I had used the fire extinguisher and this did the trick as there hadn’t been enough fuel to cause a big fire.’

Despite the fact that no Israelis witnessed Mustafa Hafez’s MiG-17 really crash, Major Asaf Ben-Nun of No. 105 Squadron claimed a kill. It’s interesting to note that the Israeli Air Force has never “verified” any other IDF/AF pilot’s claim to have shot down an Egyptian MiG-17 on the first day of the 1967 War. Given that the UARAF did not lose a single MiG-17 in an air battle on June 5, 1967, the precise reasoning behind this Israeli decision is still unknown.

The Israelis expanded their efforts to include the Jordanian, Syrian, and Iraqi fronts after being encouraged by this accomplishment. They completely destroyed the Royal Jordanian Air Force (RJAF) in a matter of hours before inflicting such heavy losses on the Syrian Arab Air Force (SyAAF) that the latter thereafter played essentially no active role in the conflict. No operation in history compares to the IDF/AF attack on that day in terms of effectiveness and significance for the success of the entire conflict and the future of the Middle East.

Photo by Francesco Gasparetti from Senigallia, Italy and Oren Rozen via Wikipedia

December 1, 2021 0 comment

History

The Mitsubishi J8M1 Shusui rocket-powered interceptor, the Japanese Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet

by Till Daisd December 1, 2021

written by Till Daisd

On July 7, 1945, the prototype J8M1 Shusui made its one and only powered flight at a high cost

Germany and Japan came to an arrangement in late 1943 wherein the latter would provide its Axis ally with a prototype, blueprints, and motors for the ground-breaking rocket-powered Me 163 Komet interceptor. Japan was also to receive further technical data pertaining to the aircraft’s production process. Both the Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force (IJNAF) and Imperial Japanese Army Air Force (IJAAF) expressed a strong interest in developing licensed versions of the Me 163 to aid in preventing anticipated B-29 Superfortress bombing raids of the Japanese home islands by the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF).

Remembering the Mitsubishi J8M1 Shusui rocket-powered interceptor, the Japanese Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet that never was

Japanese military attachés bought a license for a Walter HWK 109-509 rocket engine from the Germans for 20 million Reichsmarks after learning about the Komet and its potential. Despite these agreements, Japan encountered obstacles in getting a full Me 163. On March 30, 1944, the Japanese submarine RO-501 sailed from Kiel, Germany, bound for Kobe, Japan, with a disassembled model and its rocket engine. On May 13, 1944, U.S. Navy ASW aircraft flying out of the escort carrier Bogue sank RO-501 in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Additionally, when the USS Sawfish (SS-276) sank the Japanese submarine I-29 off the Philippines on July 26, 1944, the Me 163 technical data, blueprints, and engines loaded into the I-Boat were also lost.

Due to these setbacks, as described by Mark Chambers in his book Wings of the Rising Sun, the Japanese were compelled to create their own Komet using a general Me 163 instruction manual that IJNAF engineer Cdr. Eichi Iwaya had acquired. The resulting aircraft, given the IJNAF’s J8M1 Shusui (“Sharp Sword”) and the IJAAF’s Ki-200 designation, was going to be made by Mitsubishi. The Yokosuka-based 1st Naval Air Technical Arsenal also produced the Walter HWK 109-509 engine in the Japanese nation.

Three J8M gliders, known as the MXY8 Akigusa (“Autumn Grass”), were also built by the Arsenal to gather fundamental aerodynamic and handling data for the rocket-powered aircraft. On December 8, 1944, the MXY8 successfully conducted its first flight over the Hyakurigahara airport, with Lt. Cdr. Toyohiko Inuzuka serving as the test pilot. By that time, Japanese engineers had created the 3,307lb thrust Toko Ro.2, their own version of the Walter HWK 509A rocket engine. Last but not least, the J8M1 was to be equipped with two 400-rpm 30mm Ho-155 cannons.

On July 7, 1945, the prototype J8M1 made its pricey first and only powered flight. After a successful rocket-powered takeoff, Lt. Cdr. Inuzuka jettisoned the undercarriage dolly, and the aircraft rocketed upward at a 45° angle. However, the engine shut off as the plane ascended to a height of 1,300 feet, forcing the J8M1 to stall.

Just as Inuzuka was about to successfully glide the plane back to the airstrip, he collided with a small building close to the runway, causing the J8M1 to crash and catch fire. Inuzuka passed away from his wounds the next day. Until the Ro.2 engine could be changed and the issue fixed, all upcoming J8M1 flights were canceled. When the war ended on August 15, 1945, flight testing was supposed to resume along with the J8M2’s development. Seven J8M1/Ki-200s had been made altogether by that point.

Soon after VJ Day, American occupation forces in Nagoya recovered three J8M1s, which were then transferred to the United States in November 1945. One of them was scrapped at “Pax River,” where two of them were transported for a thorough evaluation. In October 1946, one was moved to the Naval Air Station (NAS) Glenview, Illinois, where it was displayed before being scrapped.

The third Shusui was sent to the USAAF, examined there, and then moved to Hollywood, California, where it was also on display for the public. In 1948, Ed Maloney purchased this airplane from a Los Angeles fairground and subsequently added it to his ground-breaking Air Museum in Claremont, California. Since then, after being restored, it has remained a part of this collection and is now on display at the Planes of Fame Museum in Chino.

In 1961, an unfinished J8M 1 was found in a cave near Yokosuka at Sugita. Two years later, it was presented to the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force. The aircraft, which had been abandoned for a long time, was refurbished by Mitsubishi between 1997 and 2001 and is now on exhibit in the company’s museum in Komaki Minami.

Photo by Alan Wilson from Stilton, Peterborough, Cambs, UK via Wikipedia

Wings of the Rising Sun is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

December 1, 2021 0 comment

Cold War

The U.S. Navy F-4B made an emergency landing aboard the USS Ranger after Vietnamese AAA destroyed its radome

by Till Daisd November 30, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Due to the damage, the F-4B was later broken up for spare parts at Subic Bay, Philippines

The main image of this article shows a U.S. Navy McDonnell F-4B Phantom II (BuNo 150643) of Fighter Squadron VF-142 Ghostriders. From May 5, 1964, to Feb. 1, 1965, VF-142 was part of Attack Carrier Air Wing 14 (CVW-14) on the USS Constellation (CVA-64).

CVW-14 flew the first strikes of the Vietnam War. During a photo reconnaissance mission to the Thanh Hoa Bridge, the F-4B 150643 of the fighter cover (call sign “Dakota 207”, piloted by Fred Ferrazzano) was struck by a 57 mm shell at an altitude of 150 m. This impact destroyed the nose cone, with some parts being ingested by both J-79 engines. Additionally, it was later discovered that the force of the impact had twisted the main spar.

The pilot was able to recover aboard the USS Ranger (CVA-61). Due to the damage, the plane was later broken up for spare parts at Subic Bay, Philippines. Note that the aircraft is carrying an AIM-9B Sidewinder missile.

Noteworthy, 26 years after this incident, another VF-142 aircraft, this time a Grumman F-14B Tomcat (BuNo 161433) aboard the aircraft carrier USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69), had to make an emergency landing when the nose cone came off because of a latching mechanism failure at a height of 8,200 m over the Persian Gulf.

During the departure, the radome came in contact with the canopy, broke out the forward glass, and shattered the windscreen. The pilot suffered a broken right collarbone and glass in both eyes but managed to bring the jet back to the ship for a perfect two-wire landing.

With all the forward glass so badly damaged, the only way to see forward was through a three-inch hole in the left windscreen. The pilot was LCDR Joe Edwards, and the RIO was LCDR Scott Grundmeier. LCDR Edwards was medevac’d to Bahrain for eye surgery, then home to the US.

That time a VF-142 F-14 Tomcat with missing radome made an emergency landing aboard USS Eisenhower

For their remarkable achievement, both crew members received Distinguished Flying Crosses.

Photo by Commander Fred Ferrazzano / U.S. Navy and U.S. Navy via HOME OF M.A.T.S.

November 30, 2021 0 comment

History

The first Top Gun Graduates to kill a MiG was one of these “Phantom Boys”

by Till Daisd November 30, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Beaulier went after the second MiG, using a ‘lag pursuit’ tactic to give his F-4J Phantom II the correct distance for an AIM-9D shot…

After their MiG-21 shoot-down on March 28, 1970, Lt. Jerry Beaulier (left) and Lt. (jg.) Steve Barkley (sporting his famous mustache) of VF-142 are shown eagerly inspecting a celebratory bottle of champagne, perhaps taken from the carrier battle group commander.

Both men were Topgun grads from the very first class, and Barkley had served as a pilot in the USAF. When he thought back on his many years of working with Jerry, he said, “Being a bit older and possibly more focused on quality and survival, our missions tended to be quite well planned and “by our book.” Nobody ever saw a MiG at that stage of the war, much less get within Sparrow range of a bandit. Despite this, they meticulously planned their strategy for such a situation and conducted numerous BARCAP missions in the hopes of being able to attract a MiG to the surface of the sea.

These Men were the first Top Gun Graduates to score a MiG Kill

According to Peter E. Davies’ account in U.S. Navy F-4 Phantom II Units of the Vietnam War 1969–1973, on March 28, 1970, Beaulier and Barkley were launched in F-4J “Dakota 201” (BuNo 155875) as the replacement spare for VF-142 CO Cdr Ruel E. Gardner in a CAP flight led by CVW-14 commander and F-8 MiG killer Cdr Paul Speer. They carried three external fuel tanks, two AIM-7Es, and three AIM-9Ds in preparation for a prolonged fighter sweep. The flight, which was vectored into MiG-21s by PO White aboard the destroyer USS Horne (DLG-30), the day’s “Red Crown” radar control ship, included a third F-4J with the crew of Lt. Cdr. Gary Hakanson and Lt. (jg.) Dave van Asdlen.

At the 25-mile range, they were cleared to fire AIM-7Es, but Hakanson’s radar was inoperative, and Barkley’s also died as they approached the target, ruling out Sparrow launches. ‘I was really disappointed — the perfect set-up for a head-on shot and no radar! I fought it for about five miles and then gave up’ recalled Barkley. It was later realized that the radar in Speer’s F-4 was also faulty, being limited to a one-mile range.

Beaulier closed after spotting the MiGs 10,000 feet above them. The MiGs dove in their direction as the F-4Js rose to intercept. Beaulier wheeled behind the leading MiG-21, but his F-4 quickly ran out of fuel since he was still towing three external tanks that created drag. The first MiG’s “Atoll” attempt at Speer’s Phantom II was unsuccessful, but Beaulier pursued the second MiG using a “lag pursuit” strategy to put him in position for an AIM-9D hit. The missile’s seeker head wasn’t properly set, yet it still managed to explode inside the MiG-21’s exhaust. We stopped and got a look as the unlucky aircraft fell into the cloud below us at the MiGs’ “four o’clock” position. We never witnessed an ejection, Barkley observed.

Pham Thanh Nam, an inexperienced 921st FR pilot, perished in the collision. As the Rules of Engagement (RoE) at the time prohibited assaults on MiGs unless they threatened a reconnaissance or BARCAP mission, the F-4 crew’s success could not be acknowledged publicly. Eventually, a report was made public that claimed Beaulier’s MiG-21 had been intercepted as it was attacking an RA-5C.

A MiG kill was a significant accomplishment for the F-4 pilots, especially during a period of relatively limited activity on the ground. Successful crews were also honored with specially crafted cakes, widespread media coverage, and congratulations visits with top war managers. Even though aircraft carriers were primarily platforms for attack aircraft, similar praise for successful assault aircrew and missions was uncommon.

Photo by U.S. Navy

U.S. Navy F-4 Phantom II Units of the Vietnam War 1969-73 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

November 30, 2021 0 comment

History

Why the C-130 is still USAF mainstay of Medevac

by Till Daisd November 27, 2021

written by Till Daisd

The C-130 can immediately abandon its current mission and function as an aeromedical evacuation platform, thanks to its architecture

The C-130 Hercules has been a workhorse of aeromedical evacuation since the Vietnam War and continues to be a reliable platform to transport patients over long distances, enabling Airmen to deliver vital care in the air, support disaster relief efforts, and return warfighters to their families.

The C-130 is a versatile aircraft that was first put into service in 1956 and is ideal for aeromedical evacuation duty. It is regarded as reliable and tough enough for lengthy operations in the theater and can take off from difficult runways.

A quick look at why the C-130 is still mainstay of medevac more than 60 years after its first flight

A photograph from the past shows the YC-130 Hercules on its first flight, which took place on August 23, 1954, from Burbank to Edwards Air Force Base in California. The Air Force’s Tactical Air Command recognized a need for a medium-cargo tactical transport in 1951 and developed the C-130 to meet that need. The C-130 has had the longest continuous military aircraft production line in history because it is still being produced today. The C-130 and its variants have served as a vital aeromedical evacuation platform for the U.S. Air Force for much of its operational history, transporting patients over large distances safely and enabling AE crews to provide care in the air. (Image courtesy of the U.S. Air Force)

This assists in bringing medical expertise closer to the front lines. In the article, Steady and Ready: C-130 mainstay of medevac, Air Force Surgeon General Public Affairs Shireen Bedi explains that the C-130’s design allows it to rapidly abandon its current mission and function as an aeromedical evacuation platform.

At Kitzingen Air Base in Germany in September 1970, Red Cross supplies, equipment, and portable hospitals were stockpiled into C-130 Hercules airplanes. As part of Operation Fig Hill, which offers emergency relief and medical assistance amid civil unrest, the aircraft was traveling to Jordan. For a wide range of aeromedical evacuation operations, C-130 aircraft have always been able to fly over hostile and occasionally hostile airfields.

It is equipped with electrical and oxygen systems for aeromedical evacuation equipment, it can be modified to carry up to 74 litter patients and is specifically made to lessen the adverse effects of altitude on patients and medical staff.

On October 23, 1984, at Clark Air Base in the Philippines, a hospital bus parks behind a C-130 Hercules aircraft to take victims of the Pines Hotel fire to the local hospital. At a reunion honoring the 40th anniversary of the liberation of the Philippines, more than 200 World War II veterans and their families were lodging at a hotel in Baguio. Since the Vietnam War, the C-130 airframe has developed a reputation as a dependable aircraft with enhanced patient transport capabilities, becoming a cornerstone of the current AE system.

The C-130 platform has been a cornerstone of the modern aeromedical evacuation system, as the pictures in this post demonstrate. It is being deployed as a tactical, intra-theater aeromedical evacuation platform.

In Port-au-Prince, Haiti, on January 16, 2010, a C-130 Hercules aircraft makes a final approach into Toussaint Louverture International Airport as part of the relief effort that sent critical medical personnel and supplies after the region was struck by a 7.0 earthquake. The C-130 is the Air Force’s most modified aircraft, allowing it to fulfill a range of mission requirements, according to the Air Mobility Command Historian Office. The C-130 is a crucial airframe for disaster response because of its adaptability; when necessary, it can be quickly changed in the field from cargo transport to aeromedical evacuations. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Perry Aston)

At Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan on May 29, 2014, U.S. Air Force airmen with the 455th Expeditionary Aeromedical Evacuation Squadron got ready to unload patients. In all of Afghanistan, the aeromedical evacuation squadron transports and cares for injured and ill personnel. Aeromedical evacuation personnel must set up their work area, which spans nearly the full length of the aircraft’s cargo section, in an organized manner because space is at a premium on a C-130. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Evelyn Chavez)

On a C-130 Hercules during an emergency flight from Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan, on February 14, 2010, U.S. Air Force Maj. Debora Lehker, a reserve critical care air transport team nurse, consoles a wounded Canadian army soldier. Members of the Aeromedical Evacuation Team are regarded as flight crew, therefore, in addition to their area of medical expertise, they also need to be knowledgeable about the C-130 aircraft. They must understand how to set up the aircraft to accommodate patient litters and how the electrical systems for the equipment are needed to keep passengers safe while in flight operations. (Courtesy photo)

On March 24, 2017, a C-130 Hercules from Pittsburgh Air Reserve Station, Pennsylvania, backs up to an ambulance bus from the 60th Inpatient Squadron at Travis Air Force Base, California, during Patriot Delta. The 60th IPTS provided en route patient care and set up the medical manikins as part of the Air Force Reserve exercise Patriot Delta. Through training opportunities like this one, AE crews may learn how to safely and effectively move patients to the back of the plane, provide care while in the air, and guarantee that patients are delivered to the next level of care. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Daniel Phelps)

November 27, 2021 0 comment

History

When a Pitts Special Nearly collided with RAF Jaguar Display Pilot

by Till Daisd November 23, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“For a microsecond, time stands still. The huge red letters on the top wing and fuselage of the Pitts Special spell the name of a well-known cigarette. They sweep past my canopy in slow time. An open-mouthed, white-faced pilot looks across the incredibly small gap between us,” Ian Smith, Former RAF Jaguar Display Pilot

A portion of Flight Lieutenant Ian Smith’s story, “Showing It Off,” from Ian Hall’s book Jaguar Boys is included in the following article.

Speed 100kts decreasing; top of wingover.

It’s the 1979 RAF Innsworth display, and I’m operating out of Rhoose airport.

Fuel check; yes, just enough for the final high-speed pass.

Hard pull back down, and there’s the crowd line over my shoulder. Should get 600kts plus on this pass; not too much G on the pullout, don’t want to bleed off the speed. Radalt height 300ft, 200, 100; push forward to stop it from climbing as the speed continues to increase. Best not go too low on my first display; as well as all the brass, the aircrew appointers work here and I’d like a good posting at the end of this tour.

Background static coming through the headset: “Pitts positioning from hold to display point overhead at 8,000ft.”

“Pitts, hold off. Jaguar high-speed pass and display climb complete in one minute, acknowledge.”

“Roger.”

Perfect; timing spot on. There’s crowd center; 7g; pulling like a bastard into the vertical; quick check left, right, yup that’s vertical; boot full of rudder and aileron to get a vertical roll going; 5,000ft, 6,000ft, 7,000ft, 8,000ft; looking good. Where’s Rhoose? There’s the Bristol Channel, it will be somewhere over that way then.

Whoosh!

Airshow Close Call: That Time a Pitts Special Nearly Collided with RAF Jaguar Display Pilot Doing his Final High-Speed Pass

What the hell’s that?

For a microsecond, time stands still. The huge red letters on the top wing and fuselage of the Pitts Special spell the name of a well-known cigarette. They sweep past my canopy in slow time. An open-mouthed, white-faced pilot looks across the incredibly small gap between us. In an instant, he’s gone, leaving a shocked and very grumpy Jaguar pilot. I swear, if it had been one-to-one aerial combat I could have shot him twice in the head with a 9mm pistol, it was that close.

The Pitts pilot had ignored display protocol and ATC’s implicit instructions to hold off and had maneuvered, unobserved, into the overhead. The consequences of a mid-air crash over the display don’t bear thinking about.

However, no time to dwell on that, I’ll be able to have a frank and meaningful discussion with him later. I now need to head back to Rhoose, that high-speed pass had used up more fuel than I thought. A quick calculation; from my altitude of 20,000ft an idle/idle approach shouldn’t use up much fuel. An idle run-in and break, and there’ll be enough fuel to taxi onto the ramp where the ground crew waits to get the aircraft turned round for the Rhoose display in the afternoon.

“How did it go, Sir?” asks Mac as I sit in a trance, locked silently in my thoughts at 8,000ft over Innsworth, musing about what could so easily have been my premature demise.

“What? Oh, no problems. Well, nearly no problems. Where are the bloody Pitts team parked?”

Former RAF Jaguar pilot tells the story of when he was shot down by a RAF Phantom interceptor

What a start to the first display of my first season of Jaguar display flying. During this and the following two seasons, I can honestly say I never got closer to early retirement to the big crew room in the sky. I learned my first lesson in display flying on that sunny day; never ever relax until the jet is in the hangar and you are in the bar.

Photo by Tim Felce (Airwolfhound) and Rob Schleiffert from Holland via Wikipedia, and Flickr

November 23, 2021 0 comment

History

Recalling the tragic 1983 U.S. attack on Lebanon

by Till Daisd November 23, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Lt. Mark Adam Lange, a member of the A-6 crew, was injured during the ejection and passed away shortly after. After being handed over to Syrian forces, B/N Lt. Bobby Goodman spent many weeks in a detention facility close to Damascus

During the Vietnam War, the Grumman A-6 Intruder served as the “Main Battery” of carrier aviation. It was still in use by the US Navy and US Marine Corps in 1996. The A-6 was still the most potent strike aircraft on a carrier flight deck during the 1983 American attack on Lebanon because it was a true all-weather, day/night precision bomber.

The USS Independence (CV-62) continued after Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada in 1983 and eventually replaced USS Eisenhower (CVN-69), which was departing for home. These were still the days when the Sixth Fleet had two carriers assigned, and CV-62 joined USS John F. Kennedy (CV-67), which had CVW-3 — the first “dual A-6” air wing — onboard, as explained by Rick Morgan in his book A-6 Intruder Units 1974-96. Vice Adm. Jerry O. Tuttle, a renowned naval aviator with a background in light attacks, served as both the commander of Carrier Group Two and the commander of the Battle Fleet Sixth Fleet while serving as the senior officer on board CV-67.

The collapse of Lebanon, formerly known as “the Paris of the Middle East,” was at the forefront of world events at this time as many parties engaged in violence and disorder while citing various religious reasons. In order to help stabilize a fast destabilizing situation, the U.S. government sent Marines ashore in Beirut out of concern for a much larger battle involving Syria and Israel. To demonstrate the nation’s resolve, it also positioned two carriers offshore.

According to one of Turtle’s staff officers, Lt. Cdr. Joe Hulsey, ‘we had been on constant alert for weeks, with one carrier being in “alert 30” with aircraft fully loaded and crews briefed, while the other flight deck conducted normal flight ops. This changed every 24 hours in order to share the load. The force was ready, having prepared more than 300 potential targets in the region. We had timing and weapons loads planned for all of them, and all of this information was sent up the chain to Sixth Fleet and CINCEUR [Commander in Chief, US Forces Europe] so that they’d know what we were prepared to do. On top of that, we had Jerry Tuttle in charge. He was exactly who you’d want in that position if you were going over the beach.’

Up until around December 1, when the carriers got orders to stand down from constant alert, the hair-trigger state persisted. Then, at around 03:30 on the morning of the third, a Flash order from Sixth Fleet arrived with a four-hour time on target (ToT) for carrying out strikes against six particular targets in Lebanon. The staff initially thought the order had been sent inadvertently, but as voice and message traffic emerged between the ships and Sixth Fleet, it became clear that “somebody” much higher had ordered military action without giving a damn about what it would take for the operational forces to actually carry it out.

The right ordnance was not loaded, the crews were not briefed, and the aircraft were not ready or correctly spotted on the flight deck. Additionally, only one of the six designated targets had really been prepared by the ships, and the other five were brand-new and were thought to have no military significance. While the ships rapidly woke up, it was confirmed that the ToT was an absolute that had to be met, which led to an all-hands effort to carry out their orders.

What followed was a disaster.

Remembering the ill-fated 1983 U.S. strike on Lebanon — Vought A-7E Corsair II aircraft of attack squadrons VA-15 Valions and VA-87 Golden Warriors of Carrier Air Wing Six (CVW-6) line the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Independence (CV-62) in December 1983. The carrier was operating off the coast of Lebanon in support of the multinational peacekeeping force in Beirut. In October 1983 Independence took part in the invasion of Grenada.

Kennedy launched 12 Intruders, of which seven were from VA-85 and five were from VA-75. Independence also put five Intruders up in the air, along with several KA-6Ds (from VA-176). Along with the Tomcats and Prowlers from both carriers, the ‘Indy’ A-7Es also participated. Due to time constraints, ammunition loads were sometimes limited for their intended targets, Syrian tanks, and AAA sites in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, near the Syrian border. Only one Kennedy Intruder managed to escape with a full bomb load. At middle altitude at dawn, aircraft lost contact with the ground and were quickly surrounded by missiles and AAA. The sky was replete with infrared-guided weapons that were immune to the Prowlers’ magic, while EA-6Bs seemed to render any radar-guided SAMs useless.

Buckeye 556 (BuNo 152915), the only Intruder that was fully loaded, had to work hard to keep up with the rest of the formation. Both B/N Lt. Bobby Goodman and pilot Lt. Mark Adam Lange were present on board. As aircraft attempted to dodge the SAMs rising from the ground, the sky was flooded with flares and infrared decoys. A Syrian 9K31 Strela-1 or Strela-2 infrared-guided SAM shortly struck “Buckeye 556,” most likely. Lange soon passed away from wounds sustained during the crew’s ejection from the aircraft. Goodman was handed over to Syrian forces and subsequently jailed for several weeks not far from Damascus. After a flurry of diplomatic activity, including Reverend Jesse Jackson’s attendance, he would be freed.

The Intruders and Corsair IIs delivered weapons through the hail of fire, with VA-176 particularly dropping 25 Mk 82s, 23 Mk 83s, and 30 Rockeyes on its designated targets.

While flying VA-15 A-7E “Active Boy 305” (BuNo 157468), CAG-6 Cdr. Ed. Andrews assumed control of the search and rescue operation for the downed Intruder. He was shortly struck by an infrared-guided SAM himself and was forced to eject. He was later picked up by a helpful fisherman and transferred back to the U.S. Navy. A VA-15 Corsair II called “Active Boy 314” (BuNo 157458) was also struck, but its pilot was able to board Independence and make a full recovery.

Here's how A-6 Intruder crews dodged SAMs and MiGs in the skies over Vietnam

As stated by Lt. Cdr. Hulsey, ‘even six more hours would’ve made all the difference in the world, but they wouldn’t give it to us. We found out later that the source (presumably out of Washington, D.C.) didn’t even get the time zone conversion right in the message, which cost us at least two more hours to prepare.’ As the saying goes, ‘Success has a thousand fathers while failure dies an orphan.’ In this case, it is still unclear who chose the target and ToT. Even though the bombing results were deemed “effective” in official reports, there was a rapid and long-lasting bitter taste of the strike on both ships and across carrier aviation. Professionally, the incident was regarded as nothing less than a failure. As a result, several modifications were made, including the establishment of “Strike U” at Fallon to create and disseminate more successful air wing tactics.

Photo by U.S. Navy

A-6 Intruder Units 1974-96 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

November 23, 2021 0 comment

Cold War

A crewless RAF Tornado flew away after the Navigator ejected himself and his pilot from their serviceable aircraft

by Till Daisd November 23, 2021

written by Till Daisd

We may only imagine the front-seater’s feelings as, from his parachute, he watched his Tornado disappear over the horizon

The following article contains excerpts from Group Captain Ian Hall’s story titled Blind and Deaf which appears in Ian Hall’s book Tornado Boys.

Over the years, there have been all sorts of odd instances of aircraft being left without the optimum number of crewmembers. I recall a Phantom navigator ejecting, believing his aircraft to have some kind of terminal unserviceability, only for the fault to rectify itself and for the pilot to return to base solo. Early in the Harrier’s life in Germany, a pilot suffered a catastrophic power loss following a compressor stall.

Try as he might, he was unable to clear it, so was left with no option but to eject. As he floated down in his parachute, you may imagine his surprise when he saw his Harrier merrily accelerating away. Presumably, the rocket efflux from the ejection seat had restored order to the airflow through the engine intake. As soon as he’d returned to earth, our sharp cookie phoned base from a nearby farmhouse to inform them that an unmanned aircraft was now powering its way around Germany.

As you would imagine, this caused consternation; would it crash onto a city? So much so that the authorities considered launching a QRA Lightning to shoot it down. But, given that it was impossible to predict exactly where it would land after being shot down, this option was discarded. Eventually, the wretched aircraft ran out of fuel and crashed happily without any catastrophic consequences. The staff recommendation after this? If pilots have time, they should shut down the engine before ejecting.

That time a crewless RAF Tornado flew away after the Navigator ejected himself and his pilot from their serviceable aircraft

The Tornado wasn’t exempt from similarly unfortunate events, and a notable occurrence derived from one of the aircraft’s foibles. Not for nothing was it known as the ‘electric jet’, and one of its primary systems was the CSAS — the control stability augmentation system. This was designed to make an airframe that was somewhat unstable into a flyable machine. But when the CSAS failed it was a real handful.

Early in the Tornado’s career crews became aware of occasional unexplained control inputs, and after a while and a bit of data analysis, these perturbations pinned down to the CSAS reacting to transmissions from radio masts. So much that low-flying charts began to sprout avoidance circles around the worst of these — known as HIRTAs — high-intensity radio transmission areas.

A chap on my squadron had previously fallen victim to this, in combination with another of the jet’s peculiarities — its command ejection system. The Tornado has a system whereby, in just such an eventuality (it was designed primarily with combat damage in mind) the nav may eject both crewmembers. But pilots are a conservative bunch and enabling this system had not, at that time, been standard, practice.

Naturally, that event prompted much head-scratching, and its aftermath caused a change in procedure, with the command ejection system subsequently being enabled as a matter of routine. But the law of unintended consequences was never more apparent than in my friend’s accident. One fine day he was trundling happily down through Germany at a low level when he became aware of a USAF A-10 Thunderbolt crossing his nose at fairly short range. Short enough to cause him to take evasive action. His trusty back-seater, surprised by this violent maneuver, glanced out of the window. Spying a large transmission mast nearby he assumed that the CSAS was being interfered with and that the jet was out of control. Whereupon he decided that the only way was out, and without further ado, he pulled his yellow and black handle.

That time a RAF Tornado made an emergency landing at F-117's top-secret Tonopah Air Force Base

It now is the standard operating procedure, his command ejection lever had been selected to ‘both’ — so his pilot followed him out in short order. We may only imagine the front-seater’s feelings as, from his parachute, he watched his perfectly serviceable Tornado disappearing over the horizon. Whether or not the A-10 pilot claimed a kill, we may only surmise. But the lesson from that accident was obvious; technology is a marvelous thing, but crewmembers still needed to talk to each other.

Photo by Kate Yates, BAe Heritage Centre and Mike Freer – Touchdown-aviation via Wikipedia

November 23, 2021 0 comment

Cold War

When Cuban-flown Angolan MiG-23 “accidentally” fired two missiles at a BAe 125 carrying the president of Botswana

by Till Daisd November 19, 2021

written by Till Daisd

For unknown reasons, the Angolan MiG-23 fired a missile, which blew the starboard engine clean off the BAe 125. A second missile hit the same engine after it had already left the aircraft

In exchange for South Africa withdrawing from the First Angolan Civil War and agreeing to hold UN-supervised elections for a new government in South-West Africa (SWA), Cuba and the Soviet Union agreed to a gradual withdrawal from the conflict in the middle of 1988. Then, the latter would gain independence and become Namibia. With this agreement, South Africa stopped directly supporting UNITA (União Nacional para an Independência Total de Angola), the country’s second-largest political party and the last major military opposition group, which was heavily supported by the United States, China, and South Africa.

FAPLA (Força Armadas Populares de Libertaceio de Angola, the Angolan military) and UNITA continued to fight when Cuba, the Soviet Union, and South Africa withdrew from Angola. To the surprise of many observers, the combined withdrawal did not spell the end for either organization. UNITA was able to continue operating because it had the continued support of the United States through Zaire and was well-protected by extensive minefields that South Africa had placed during its withdrawal. Additionally, MiG-23s from FAPA-DAA (Força Aérea Popular de Angola—Defesa Anti-Aviones, Angola People’s Air Force and Air Defence Force) kept up their vigorous patrols over the skies over southern Angola, attempting to intercept some of the several transport aircraft transporting supplies for insurgents.

Similar events occurred on August 6, 1988, when a MiG-23 intercepted a Botswana Air Wing BAe 125-800 over Angola, carrying the president of Botswana and eight other passengers at 35,000 feet (10,668 meters). The business jet’s starboard engine was completely destroyed by a missile fired by the Angolan interceptor for an unidentified reason. Once the missile departed the aircraft, a second one struck the same engine. At Kuito, Angola, the pilot regained control and executed an emergency landing. The Luanda government expressed regret for the error and covered the costs of the harm done.

In their book African MiGs Volume 2 Madagascar to Zimbabwe, Tom Cooper, Peter Weinert, Fabian Hin, and Mark Lepko received the following description of the events from Arthur Ricketts, the co-pilot of the Botswanan BAe 125-800 that the Angolan MiG-23 flown from Cuba intercepted and damaged:

“On 7 August 1988, Botswana. Defense Force Air Wing BAe 125-800 (serial ranger OK-1) was tasked to fly His Excellency J. K Quett Masire, President of Botswana, and eight other government officials from Gaborone to Luanda. The aircraft was crewed by Col Albert Scheffers, CO of the Air Wing, and me, Arthur Ricketts, employed as a transport and training captain with British Aerospace. Col Scheffers had completed his type conversion in the UK and I was continuing his line training in Botswana. I had been employed on the test program of the 125 series of aircraft for the previous eight years.

“The aircraft was cruising at FL 350 [10,668m] and had just passed a position report to Luanda after crossing over Kuito Bie. Without warning, the starboard engine of the aircraft was hit by what was later discovered to be an AA-2 Atoll missile fired from a MiG-21 of the Angolan Air Force. A second missile fired was assumed to have hit the engine after it departed the airframe. When hit, the aircraft was on autopilot. This tripped out with the impact of the missile and the aircraft pitched violently upwards, a shower of turbine and fan blades being seen by myself before I instinctively took control of the aircraft manually, rolling it off the top of a stall.

That time a Cuban-flown Angolan MiG-23 accidentally fired two missiles at a BAe 125 business jet carrying the president of Botswana — British Aerospace C-29A (BAe-125-800FI)

“At the point of impact Col Scheffers was rendered incapacitated by the instantaneous application of approximately 33g (calculated by the BAe stress engineers later on, based on damage to the fuselage frames), which threw him hard against the port cockpit wall, and he played no further part in the recovery of the aircraft. Also at this time the engineer traveling with us was thrown into the cockpit from the cabin. The aircraft sustained damage to the pressure cabin that resulted in an explosive decompression. At least one window was shattered by shrapnel from the engine, approximately a ton and a half of fuel was lost from the damaged starboard wing tanks, all radio navigation systems failed, and the cabin oxygen masks failed to deploy automatically.

“My first instinct was to regain control of the aircraft by rolling it away from the vertical and establishing a stable descent, which I achieved by the time we reached FL 280 [8,534m]. Initially, we were descending at about 6,000ft [1,829m] a minute, which gave me almost six minutes to sort everything out before arriving very hard in Africa! In that six minutes, I managed to transmit two Mayday calls, one to Luanda, which was apparently not received or understood, and the other on HF radio which was picked up and acted upon by Santa Maria in the Azores.

“I had substantial previous experience of flying in Africa and assessed that there was probably an airstrip of sorts at Kuito Bie, some 25 miles [40km] behind the point at which we were hit. During the descent, I had assessed the aircraft systems remaining and had made the decision to leave selecting flaps and landing gear until shortly before landing, not expecting them to work. However, when the engine departed the airframe, the quick-release couplings on the hydraulic pump, starter/ generator, and alternator did their job and I was able to have the use of flaps, undercarriage, and brakes, certainly necessary as the damage demanded a landing speed of approximately 150-160kt.

“Several passengers received injuries in addition to the crew, and these were attended to at the hospital in Kuito Bie, before we were eventually uplifted by a Gulfstream III (registration D2-ECB), to Luanda. President Masire was injured by a fan blade that penetrated the cabin and then his seatback. He was subsequently flown to England by the RAF for treatment.

“The captain’s name on the flight to Luanda was Pereira, and he kindly allowed me to fly the aircraft from the co-pilot’s seat. I was repatriated to Botswana by Beech King Air 200 (registration D2-ESO) via Luena Air Base in Angola, where I saw various MiG-17s and MiG-21s, but no MiG-23s as I remember. The base was a shambles, with hangars flattened and aircraft upside down all over that very large area. But, that — as they say — is yet another story!

“The aircraft that intercepted us was said to us to have been a MiG-21. It should have fired two AA-2 Atoll missiles. The information I have about that plane and the missiles is current as of the time when this happened. I can’t recollect the source but have never seen anything different quoted.

“This is the first and only account that has been written … As you can imagine, this was a ‘hot potato’ at the time, which is why I never commented on various reports of the incident. The only other account I am aware of is the record of an interview I gave to Air International News at the NBAA [National Business Aviation Association] show in Dallas, in 1989…

“I was subsequently awarded the Diploma of Outstanding Airmanship, in 1989, by the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale, an honor which is awarded only once a year.”

With regards to the same incident, Teniente-Colonel Eduardo Gonzalez (DAAFAR, Defensa Anti-Aérea Y Fuerza Aérea Revolucionaria, Cuban Revolutionary Air and Air Defense Force, ret.) provided the following commentary:

“During Operation Second Congress, in 1985, I personally intercepted (with GCI support), twice a month and in broad daylight, a huge Douglas DC-10 from Mozambique, flying over Mavinga and bound for Luanda. We were very pissed off because that airway was closed for all commercial traffic – or at least we asked a number of times for it to be closed to the ATC authorities in Luanda since it was a combat zone. Documents on this matter were signed but to no avail.

“I do not want to act as a ‘prophet of the past’ now, but at those times I was sure an incident involving a civilian airliner would happen sooner or later because violations of the war zone occurred almost on a daily basis. Remember that only two years earlier, the Soviets had shot down the South Korean Boeing 747, and only three years later — i.e. in the same year the interception of that BAe 125 occurred —an US cruiser shot down an Iranian Airbus. A responsible aircrew will never accept a flight plan that overfills a combat zone. I was terrified that if a passenger aircraft would enter that zone at night, my pilots and I could not establish a visual ID.

“We [Cubans], as the `world’s black sheep’, could not afford such a mistake. That’s why I instructed my pilots already in 1985 that before launching their missiles at any such target in daylight, they always had to establish a visual ID. Thus, I feel it must be told to Mr. Ricketts that it was a gross mistake for them to fly across a location known by every ‘newspaper in the universe as a war zone. Even more so with a VIP on board.

“The aircraft in question first came under fire from an Angolan SAM site near Cuito Cuanavale. They were in full readiness and attempted to identify the ‘bogie’. There was no ‘friendly’ answer and a ‘clear to fire’ order was issued. They fired four missiles but all missed: they were out of tune with the fire-control radar… Meanwhile, the information was forwarded to Menongue AB, and a Cuban pilot, Capt Albert Olivares Horta, scrambled in MiG-23ML C-479. He accelerated to Mach 1.9 to catch the intruder but never established a visual ID of the BAe 125 before opening fire… Horta fired two missiles. The first was an R-24T from the left-wing station no. 3. This scored a hit, and that was when Horta sighted his target for the first time. He then fired an R-24R from the right-wing station no. 4. To the luck of the crew and passengers in the targeted aircraft, this missile went astray…

“The name of the doctor who took care of all the injured was Ransin Cruz Mendez… I was not in Angola at the time, otherwise, I would keep hammering those cabrones [‘bastards’ in Cuban slang] to insist on visual ID before launching…

“C-479 was later lost due to engine-related problems. 1st Lt Eladio Avila ejected safely.”

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Torsten Maiwald via Wikipedia

November 19, 2021 0 comment

Cold War

Ex-C-5 pilot recounts the “Cockpit Cat Fight” between two female navigators on their first FRED mission

by Till Daisd November 16, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“Sandy, the pretty one, and Penny, the interesting one, hunched over the scope on the navigators’ station behind the pilot. Their voices rose in volume and their tone turned argumentative and aggressive,” 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. He’s working on the last book of the trilogy.

Women Enter The Cockpit, 1982

A significant change in Air Force culture began for me in 1982 when women entered the cockpit, in this case, as C-5 navigators. It began curiously for me.

On an early mission in my C-5 career as a copilot, two female navigators showed up on the flight. I’m not sure why we had two, but it caused problems on the segment coming out of Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, en route to Frankfurt, Germany.

I know this was early in my C-5 experience because we still had the band weather radar that wasn’t worth a damn. It showed dim spokes on its fished-out screen as it scanned the sky ahead and showed returns as ghostly, imprecise shadows with no color gradations to show intensity.

At this time, navigators were losing their mission. Inertial Navigation Systems (INS) had severely encroached on the navigator’s space on the crew and would soon eliminate them as Flight Management Systems (FMS) provided almost all the information navigators had previously provided to the pilots.

But in the early 1980s, navigators controlled the weather radar and processed information from the triple (INS) setup. This trek across the northern portion of the Saudi peninsula, of all the hundred times I made it, had the worst weather I ever saw over this terrain. Thunderstorms were everywhere, some visible, some not when we flew into a cloud deck. This is when near-fisticuffs broke out between the two female navigators.

Sandy and Penny, both first lieutenants, seemed to be getting along well up to this point, but interpreting the K-band returns under pressure progressively led to a raging argument about which way we should turn the aircraft to avoid storm cells.

Sandy, the pretty one, and Penny, the interesting one, hunched over the scope on the navigators’ station behind the pilot. Their voices rose in volume and their tone turned argumentative and aggressive.

We pilots grew frustrated with the argument; we just needed someone to tell us which way to turn. We were flying blind as the argument behind us grew in intensity. Being of equal rank and crew qualification, neither seemed to be in charge. Finally, one of the women stalked to the back to check her forms to see who held the earliest date of rank between them. That finally settled who would call the shots. I can’t remember which one it was, but we finally got information in a timely manner. Not an auspicious introduction to women in the cockpit as a catfight erupts on my first mission with the fairer sex.

Another indicator that things had changed in the crew force happened as we checked into our rooms at the Rhein-Main hotel. Sandy and I shared the same bathroom that joined our two rooms, early shades of a unisex privy. True, each of us could lock the other’s entry door, but doing so, noisily, announced that any of the various performances were about to begin. After a long flight, one of those would probably be one neither would want to share with the other but would have to.

Unfortunately, while we were diligent in locking the door in such situations to avoid a potentially unfortunate face-to-face in the bathroom, were less diligent about unlocking the other’s door when we left. This could prove catastrophic in the middle of the night when you arose in dire need of relief only to find your bathroom door locked. You could pound on the door or get semi-dressed and go out into the hallway to the other’s room entry do and knock on that, dancing in the hallway trying to hold it (and don’t for your key!).

The true catastrophe arrived when the other person had locked your bathroom door and left their room. Now you were truly screwed and would have to use the public bathroom in the lobby or find a housekeeper to enter their room and unlock your door.

And then, lascivious possibilities would arise in the mind. Such as, instead of locking the bathroom door, one of us would open it and step through instead—a rare possibility, I admit, but who knows what fantasy might lurk in Sandy’s libido? Since she was married, that limited the possibility even further, and she did not. But I had a string of such “limited possibilities” that actually happened to me previously with Air Force wives, so who knows?

The incredible story of the C-5 crew that performed three night air refuelings during a storm

And, besides, Penny was the more interesting of the two, so if I got to choose, I’d have selected her. But as with 99% of such fantasies, none of these happened except in my mind. Just as well.

Photo by Senior Airman Zachary Cacicia and Brett Snow / U.S. Air Force

November 16, 2021 0 comment

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