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BUFF

B-52 crews penetrated NORAD’s massive surveillance system at low-level without losses for three years in a row during an exercise

by Till Daisd April 23, 2024

B-52 modified for low-level flight

America’s first heavy bomber with swept wings and a long-range was the B-52 Stratofortress. It started as a high-altitude, intercontinental nuclear bomber, and its operating capabilities were modified to satisfy evolving defense requirements.

The B-52 aircraft has undergone modifications that allow it to do low-level operations, carry out conventional bombing missions, travel longer distances, and carry more advanced defensive and offensive weapons, such as ballistic and cruise missiles that can be launched hundreds of miles from their intended target.

Known by its crews as the Big Ugly Fat F****R, or BUFF, once it entered service in 1955 the B-52 remained the primary long-range heavy bomber of the US Air Force during the Cold War.

Electronic Warfare Officer

However, how were B-52s supposed to breach Soviet air defenses and reach their targets?

Keith Parker, former B-52 Electronic Warfare Officer, recalls on Quora;

‘I was an EWO (Electronic Warfare Officer) on B-52Gs at Loring AFB at Limestone (close to Caribou), Maine, from late 1960 through early 1963 when I left for pilot training.

‘In 1961 we did an exercise/test where all commercial, private, and military flying in the United States was grounded for one day while SAC (Stra t egic Air Command) attacked the US while NORAD (North American Defense Command) did all it could to “shoot down” (simulated with real fighters, Nike-Ajax or Nike-Hercules Ground to Air Missile “lock ons”) that would score against the attacking bombers.

B-52 at low-level

‘We used the attack tactic of “low level” (500 to 1000 feet off of the ground) and our on-board jamming electronics to make all the NORAD radar scopes white with noise so that they could not see any of us. Without any radar returns NORAD was “blind” and could not launch any fighters or missiles.

‘The result was that NONE of the bombers were shot down and we all (100%) bombed every one of our targets. My crew’s target was Loring AFB.

Repeating the exercise with the same results

‘SAC and NORAD repeated the exercise/test in 1962 and again in 1963 with the same results. My guess was that the boys in the head shed found it hard to believe the totality of the first two tests so they had to try the third. There was no point in trying a fourth one. Also, the B-52s did not use the basket weave tactic to further confuse the radar. Nor did we launch any of the 4 quail we carried in the aft bomb bay that could fly at varying altitudes and varying headings while giving a radar return just like a B-52. This alone would increase the B-52s’ survival by 80%.’

Parker concludes;

‘The good news was that, in an all-out thermonuclear war, all of our bombers would reach all of the Russian and Chinese and other communist targets. The bad news was that all of their bombers would reach their targets here in the United States. It is interesting to note that our sequencing on the enemy targets was in excess of 25 nuclear weapons on each target. That would make each target nothing but melted glass.’

Photo by U.S. Air Force

April 23, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

B-52 pilot explains how landed his BUFF after two engines nearly tore off

by Till Daisd December 24, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘Fearing what two engines departing the plane might do to my aerodynamics, to say nothing of what would happen if they hit the tail on the way by, I shouted to the radar nav to give me the nearest runway,’ Jay Lacklen, former B-52 pilot

Jay Lacklen, a Lieutenant Colonel with 12,500 flight hours, retired from the Air Force Reserve in 2004. From 2005 until 2014, he served as a teacher for Air Force T-1 pilot training simulators at Columbus AFB in Mississippi. He grew up in Arlington, VA, and graduated from the University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill in 1969. He flew 330 hours in the C-7 Caribou, 2000 hours in the B-52 bomber, and 9,500 hours in the C-5 Galaxy transport, in addition to pilot training aircraft.

He flew in every significant combat mission, from the Vietnam War to the Iraq War. Lacklen, who is married and has four adult daughters and two granddaughters, also resides in northern Virginia.

Lacklen is also the author of three books: Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command, and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Three: Air Mobility Command. The story that follows is taken from the trilogy’s first book.

Engines Dancing on the Wing

In about the middle of the crew’s three-month course, on the Friday Thanksgiving weekend of 1977, I found the Grim Reaper seated in my seat. We had just started the post-air refueling navigation leg over the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountain range. I had about an hour off since students both rode their seats for nav leg. I slipped the Playboy magazine out of my helmet bag and sat on the floor behind the jump seat, the only place I could stretch out a little.

I had just opened the centerfold, a lovely naked brunette seated on a chair she had rakishly turned backwards, when the copilot came up on the interphone. “Ah, IP, copilot!”

Funding for B-52 re-engine program will unlikely be approved before 2020

Oh, great, I thought, what problem could this rookie have now? I told him to go ahead.

“Ah, are there supposed to be holes in the engines?”

“Yes,” I told him, “one in the front, one in the back;’ irritated he was dragging me away from the brunette.

“No,” he said, his voice now quavering, “I mean holes in the side of the cowling.”

Uh, oh, I thought. I folded up Miss Playmate and went forward, grasping his headrest and leaning around him to look at the #5 engine, the first one visible out his window.

My vision replicated a movie cinematic technique, where I initially saw the entire engine, then zoomed into the midsection in horror. The engine had two overlapping basketball-sized holes where the N2 compressor turbine resided. Looking into the holes, I could see the remnants of that turbine twirling madly and unevenly, throwing sparks wildly as its broken blades struck the side casing. Suddenly, the firelight and bell alarm on this engine’s pylon mate, engine #6, came to life, the bell clanging and the light flashing ominously.

“You, out of the seat!” I shouted at the copilot as I grabbed my helmet and checklist and moved aside for him to clear the copilot position.

Impressive photos show B-52 bombers taking part in Operation Linebacker II, the Christmas bombings over North Vietnam which took place 45 years ago

When I landed heavily in the seat, I immediately pulled the fire handle on both #5 and #6 to shut off fuel and hydraulics at the firewall at the top of the pylon. I told the student pilot to fly the plane while I handled the emergency. I also strapped tightly into my ejection seat.

Mercifully, the firelight and bell went out on #6. Engine #5 was apparently so torn up that the disintegrating compressor had probably severed the fire loop warning system because it gave no warnings at all despite being in shambles. What I did not know until the next day was that shrapnel from the disintegrating compressor had blown into the fuselage as well as into engine #6. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything vital, to include a wing fuel or me and my Playboy magazine. Had it hit a fuel tank, the plane might have exploded, and none of us would have known what happened.

Catastrophes are impossible to plan for completely. You can have an engine fire, and you know the Bold Print responses, yet you can’t anticipate surrounding events, complications, or your location when the shit hits fan. In this case, I had to think quickly of where we were and where we should go to land. In these days, prior to INS and GPS navigation systems, I did any self-respecting pilot would do—I shouted on interphone for the navigator to give me the nearest SAC base. A few seconds later, he would be at Mather AFB in Sacramento, CA, twenty minutes to the west.

I looked out at the two stricken engines on the pylon, and things have gotten worse. Engine #6, which I could not see except for the front intake, seemed largely intact, and the airstream passed through it cleanly. Engine #5, however, having torn itself apart, would not allow the airflow through unimpeded and now put heavy drag on the pylon. This uneven airflow through these pylon mates had now caused them to start wobbling, or Dutch rolling, on the pylon, a terrifying dance that threatened to tear the engines off the pylon. The Reaper had joined us in the cockpit.

Fearing what two engines departing the plane might do to my aerodynamics, to say nothing of what would happen if they hit the tail on the way by, I again shouted to the radar nav to give me the nearest runway. A moment later, he said it would be Lake Tahoe, but he didn’t recommend it because it was a short runway and at the bottom of a steep valley.

“Turning for Mather!” I said.

“Heading two-seven-zero,” he responded.

USAF completes investigation on why B-52H lost engine over North Dakota last year

Now I had to start talking and coordinating. I declared the emergency on the Oakland Center frequency and told him we had two engine failures, engine fire, and needed clearance direct to Mather with further clearance descend and maneuver as necessary while doing so. This busy Air Traffic Control (ATC) frequency went silent except for me and the controller, pilots in a couple of dozen other cockpits, civilian and military, listening intently. As I found over the course of several emergencies, ATC can save your ass in a pinch. This controller locked into the situation immediately and professionally. He gave me the Mather weather, altimeter setting, and landing runway, which fortunately would provide a straight-in approach. He then asked for status on the engines and I reported the instability. He switched me to another frequency to free up the main frequency for everyone else. I’m sure those couple of dozen other cockpits switched a backup radio to that frequency to follow the emergency, fascinated at the drama and thankful it was me, not them.

My other UHF radio still had the Castle command post frequency in. I switched there and gave them a brief summation of the situation, then returned to the ATC frequency to report how far out of Mather we were. He said he had notified Mather we were inbound.

[…] I could now see Mather far in the distance. I could also see the engine dance getting worse. I flicked my radio control back to Castle since they would be berserk to talk to me. I also feared the DCO, the chief of stan/eval, and an assorted multitude of other ops types would be leaning the controller’s shoulder to ask me fifty questions about my situation. I saw Mather drawing closer and decided I didn’t have time for that. This was going
to be over, one way or the other, in five minutes, and I didn’t want to spend it talking to them.

“Castle,” I said, “This is Panzer Eight-Zero. I’m on fire, and I’m headed for Mather; if you want any information, ask them.” Then I clicked the radio back to the Mather command post. They didn’t have any operations personnel on duty over the holiday and wouldn’t know what to ask. Just as well. I’m sure the Castle DCO was turning back flips to know what was happening, but I hoped he would understand.

Later, I got another interesting perspective on the whole scene from the instructor, EW seated behind me in the cockpit. When I leapt into the copilot’s seat and started shouting at everyone, the EW feared I might soon give the bailout order, so terse did the dialogue sound. He knew we were over the snow-covered Sierras, and he didn’t have his winter flight jacket on. He said he eyed it sitting on the floor next to him and wondered if he had time to unstrap from his parachute to put it on. He listened to the frantic discussion up front and decided he did not dare do so. He grabbed the jacket and pulled it through his chest strap, hoping it might land somewhere near him if he punched out. I had not thought I sounded that bad. I mean, I wasn’t screaming or anything, but perhaps my voice went up an octave or two. I had no plans to make the ejection call unless the engines came off the pylon and resulted in a loss of control, and they had not, as yet. I didn’t have my jacket on and never thought about it. It would have been a cold ride down to the snow for me if it had come to that.

Approach control switched me over to the tower to get landing permission. I now had to pull the engines to idle and deploy the airbrakes to slow down so I could extend the gear and flaps. Everything came down properly, we landed, and soon we were rolling out on the runway with an armada of fire trucks chasing us. We cleared at the end of the runway and let ourselves get surrounded by the trucks. After observing us briefly, two of the silver-suited, alien-looking firemen inspected the #5 and #6 engines and decided this emergency was over.

We taxied to parking and shut down the engines. I scrambled out of the plane and raced over to the wrecked engines.

I found an engine stand already up against #5 with a crusty old guy in civilian clothes wagging an unlit cigar from his mouth. I climbed up next to him and looked into the gaping hole in the side of the engine and the mess of metal within. The old guy muttered, “Five more minutes, and these engines would have come off the pylon.”

“Wow,” I said, “are you an (enlisted) engine guy?”

“No,” he growled. “I own this place!”

Oops! I don’t know if he was the wing commander, the maintenance commander, or the ops commander, but I took his word for it.

The Grim Reaper had again left my aircraft empty-handed. I tell my current pilot training students that the Reaper will visit their aircraft in the future, and I wish them luck when he does.

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Landmark9254 (Own work), via Wikipedia

December 24, 2023 0 comment

History

The B-52 Stratofortress was referred to as “BUFF” during Operation Arc Light

by Till Daisd October 21, 2023

written by Till Daisd

Since they flew too high to be seen or heard, B-52 bombers became one of the Viet Cong’s most feared weapons

The Stratofortress flew her first combat missions as a conventional bomber during the Vietnam War, bombing what were believed to be Viet Cong insurgents’ hideouts in the South Vietnamese jungles, even though the B-52 was intended to be the cornerstone of the United States Air Force’s (USAF) nuclear deterrent. The B-52, the ultimate strategic bomber, was transformed into a functional weapon system during these missions, which were part of Operation Arc Light.

However, the first Arc Light mission against four Viet Cong battalions, flown on June 18, 1965, by twenty-seven B-52Fs, was nearly a failure due to the loss in a mid-air collision of two bombers. The incident was brought on by the bad weather, the poor planning, and the illness, according to Bill Yenne in his book B-52 Stratofortress: The Complete History of the World’s Longest Serving and Best-Known Bomber. Despite this shaky beginning, the Arc Light sorties quickly became routine, and they saw the Stratofortress carry out tactical support flights in support of the US Marine Corps Operation Harvest Moon and the US Army First Cavalry’s operations in the Ia Drang Valley.

To expand the B-52 bomb capability, the Strategic Air Command (SAC) B-52Ds were updated in December 1965 to carry eighty-four 500-pound conventional bombs, with space for an additional twenty-four on underwing pylons. The “Big Belly” upgrade program significantly expanded the B-52D’s bomb-carrying capability over the B-52F, which it replaced in the first few months of 1966, from 43,500 pounds to up to 60,000 pounds.

The B-52D was differentiated by its newly adopted Southeast Asia camouflage pattern, which featured the same B-52F gloss black on the undersides and vertical tail and tan plus two colors of green on the top sides. Incidentally, it was Operation Arc Light that gave the Stratofortress its well-known nickname, “BUFF,” which stands for “Big Ugly Fat Fucker” but is pronounced “Big Ugly Fat Fellow” in polite company and official USAF fact sheets.

These modifications increased the effectiveness of Arc Light missions since B-52s, which flew too high to be seen or heard, were one of the weapons the Viet Cong feared the most, according to the SAC’s official narrative.

A claim confirmed by General Westmoreland said, “We know from talking to many prisoners and defectors that enemy troops fear B-52s, tactical air, artillery, and armor… in that order.”

This opinion was supported by Truong Nhu Tang, the Viet Cong Minister of Justice, who in his 1985 book, A Viet Cong Memoir, eloquently recalled the experience of becoming involved in a B-52 Arc Light operation.

“It seemed, as I strained to press myself into the bunker floor, that I had been caught in the Apocalypse. […] the terror was complete. One lost control of bodily functions as the mind screamed incomprehensible orders to get out.”

Operation Arc Light: when the iconic B-52 Stratofortress earned the nickname — Bombs from a USAF Boeing B-52D Stratofortress on an “Arc Light” mission hitting suspected enemy troop positions

More than 5,000 Arc Light missions were flown in 1966, and that number nearly doubled in 1967 thanks to the use of Thailand air bases like Udorn Royal Thai Air Force Base and U-Tapao Royal Navy Airfield, which reduced the distance from South Vietnam and significantly reduced the strain on aerial refueling assets.

Nonetheless, the Arc Light missions reached their peak in 1968, when 20,568 sorties were flown. The most well-known of the Arc Light missions took place the same year when B-52s were used to support and defend American forces during the Khe Sanh siege, which evolved into the biggest and most significant tactical air operation yet seen in Southeast Asia. The AN/MSQ-77 Ground Directed Bombing System, located in ground radar stations throughout the nation, was used to guide the BUFFs, which were in action round-the-clock and arrived over the target in groups of up to six every few hours. Target revisions were allowed by Skyspot with two hours’ notice.

During this operation, code-named Niagara, B-52s dropped 75,631 tons of bombs throughout 2,707 missions; more than 600 of those bombs were detonated less than 300 yards from the American border. No Americans were hurt. These assaults helped break the siege of Khe Sanh and forced the North Vietnamese to leave. A captured North Vietnamese officer revealed that 75% of his regiment had been destroyed in a single B-52 bombardment.

The Nixon administration’s attempt to de-escalate the war resulted in the Arc Light missions slowly declining in 1969, with 19,498 sorties performed that year, 15,103 in 1970, and 12,552 in 1971. The B-52 would have been fully employed the next year during Operation Linebacker II, the Christmas airstrike that was the heaviest bombing campaign the US conducted over North Vietnam.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

October 21, 2023 0 comment

History

Heavy maintenance is helping the legendary BUFF to remain in service forever

by Till Daisd May 20, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘We do heavy maintenance to the B-52. I mean heavy,’ Darren Dennis, Aerospace Propulsion Apprentice at US Air Force.

The B-52 Stratofortress has served as the backbone of the US-manned strategic bomber force ever since it entered service. The B-52 is known as the “Big Ugly Fat F****r” by its aircrews, and it is equipped to drop or launch the most varied lineup of US arsenal weaponry. This includes joint direct attack munitions (JDAMs), precision-guided missiles, cluster bombs, gravity bombs, and such.

The US Air Force (USAF) has actually decided that the B-52 will continue to be used until at least 2040 when it intends to retire all B-1B and B-2 bombers. In order to operate alongside the newest Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider, a proposal to re-engine the fleet of 76 B-52H aircraft was made in 2018. The goal of this project, known as the Commercial Engine Replacement Program (CERP), is to equip the illustrious aircraft with current-model, commercially available business jet engines.

Impressive photos prove that the Mighty B-52 Stratofortress is still kicking ass 50 years after Operation Linebacker II — A weapons load crew from the 2nd Aircraft Maintenance Squadron transports a GBU-10 munition to be loaded onto a B-52H Stratofortress during Combat Hammer at Barksdale Air Force Base, La., Mar. 10, 2021. Top image: An Air Force crew chief helps prepare a B-52H Stratofortress for takeoff during training operations at Royal Australian Air Force Base, Darwin, Australia, Apr. 3, 2018.

But how did the recognizable BUFF manage to continue operating for so long?

‘We do heavy maintenance to the B-52. I mean heavy,’ says Darren Dennis, Aerospace Propulsion Apprentice at US Air Force, on Quora.

‘I work on the engines of the B-52 and I can tell you that anything that even looks broken, from everything from clamps to major components gets replaced or repaired by the good ole maintenance folk.

‘Not to mention the Air Force has very strict guidelines of how our parts and components are maintained and kept serviceable.

‘Think about it this way. Imagine you buy a car and as the years wear on it, eventually you can’t drive it anymore because the parts are too worn out. Even if you change the fluids and do every simple maintenance thing you could to it.

‘Now imagine if every 1,000 miles on your car, mechanics are going in and changing out everything from your tires, wiring, body paneling, AC, fluids, lights, and car seats. Essentially your car will last forever.

‘Same concept with the B-52. Also, it’s just a reliable aircraft.’

Dennis concludes;

‘The Air Force isn’t getting rid of them any time soon cause there isn’t anything good enough to replace it yet. Much like the A-10 Warthog.’

The classic BUFF will likely continue to fly for at least another 25 years, proving that old soldiers don’t die; they only fade away, until a new aircraft is created to replace this legendary model.

Photo by Staff Sgt. Alexander W. Riedel and Airman 1st Class Jacob B. Wrightsman / U.S. Air Force

May 20, 2023 0 comment