Fighter Pilot

by Christina Olds

  J. B. Stone and I were sweating over intel one night when I said, “Damn it, we’ve got to lure those MiGs up where we can get at them.” J.B.’s eyes lit up. “I think I’ve got a way we can do it.” As soon as he started describing his idea, I knew we were in complete synch. We got excited and started throwing ideas back and forth. “Hell,” I said, “let’s do it!” Easier said than done—I had to convince General Momyer first.

  The opportunity presented itself at the beginning of December when the big boss at PACAF, General Hunter Harris, invited/ordered a whole bunch of commanders to his going-away briefing/party at Baggio in the highlands of Luzon. His years as commander of PACAF were coming to an end, and this was, in a way, his swan song. The gathering was composed of three differing elements of the war in Southeast Asia. There were hordes of horse holders from Pacific Air Forces headquarters in Hawaii who thought they were running everything, the numbered air force staff people in the Philippines and in Saigon who knew they were running everything, and the operational types at wing level who really were doing everything. The interactions were fascinating. There were endless briefings on this and that all meant to educate us common folk. I thought the staff people from Hawaii and the Philippines were probably happy for a break from the arduous paper shuffling they endured each day, but those of us from the war zone resented being called away from our responsibilities. I knew my wing was in the capable hands of Pappy Garrison, so I wasn’t worried about the mission or the troops during my absence; I was worried about the catching-up I’d have to do when I returned.

  My immediate boss, Lieutenant General Momyer, the commander of the 7th Air Force in Saigon, was a man for whom I felt deep respect. He wasn’t an outgoing personality. He seldom revealed his feelings, but we all knew he worked tirelessly to get the job done. We suspected that he often served as a buffer blocking the idiotic blandishments coming out of Washington. This gathering was not attended with any discernible enthusiasm by the people directly engaged in the war, specifically and particularly not by Spike Momyer, who had far more important things to do.

  Those of us who worked for him sensed his mood at the party, and the wise ones kept a discreet distance. He barely tolerated all the blather going on around him, and I was apprehensive about approaching him at this social occasion with the idea I had in my mind, but when I saw him talking with an old friend of mine, Colonel “Dirty” Ernie White, I thought the time was as good as any. Ernie and I had played football together at the Point, and Ernie, bless him, interrupted his conversation with the general, turned to me, and said hello. General Momyer acknowledged my presence and asked how things were going at Ubon. That was my opening and I threw caution to the winds.

  “Sir, the MiGs are getting frisky up north and beginning to go after the Thuds. I have an idea on how to counter their threat and teach them a lesson.”

  He looked at me hard and seemed to be thinking of what to say in response, but he only grunted, then turned away. I didn’t take that personally, knowing his nature. In fact, I totally sympathized with him, but was deeply disappointed at having failed to make my point. I went back to the party wondering how to impress the man with what I thought was a crucially important matter.

  17

  Bolo

  I shouldn’t have worried. Back at Ubon a few days later, the phone rang. It was General Momyer’s exec. He said the general wanted to talk to me about my idea concerning the MiGs. I was ordered to hustle my butt down to Saigon right away. I did that same night.

  My session with the boss the next morning was brief and to the point. He asked what I had in mind. I told him I thought we in the 8th Wing could go north in the typical strike package employed by the F-105s, draw the MiGs up, and have a go at them in our F-4s in a good old-fashioned air battle. General Momyer thought a moment, then said, “OK, go talk to Don Smith about some of our ideas about going after the MiGs and then I want to talk to both of you together.”

  Brigadier General Don Smith was an old buddy of mine and I had great respect for him. It turned out we agreed on the general idea for the ruse to be employed. Don was so enthusiastic he told me we could use all of the 7th AF assets available, something I had not even hoped for. We went back to Momyer’s office and told him. The boss said, “All right, draw up a plan and brief me as soon as you’re ready. My staff here at 7th will help in any way needed. That’s all. Get to work.”

  We were off and running! I put J.B. to work on the plan right away. He hauled in J. D. Covington, Ralph Wetterhahn, and Lieutenant Joe Hicks to work with us. We worked like mad for the next two weeks under the tightest security. I led them on the specific guidelines and major decision elements, and those young officers threw all of their NVM combat experience into developing the detailed plan.

  The overall objective was to destroy any airborne forces encountered over North Vietnam. Intelligence gave us some highly probable MiG tactics. The MiGs were usually in the air anytime strike aircraft were in the area. Typically they were airborne approximately ten to fifteen minutes prior to the strike, about the time the Thuds crossed the Black River. Generally, two to four MiGs would orbit over Phuc Yen, the main MiG air base, to provide field cover. The rest of the MiG force was sent to two intercept points; one on the southwest side of the Red River, in the vicinity of Phu Tho and the other to the northeast of “Thud” Ridge, near Thai Nguyen. The MiGs attacked the F-105 strike forces at varying points along their routes. Additional intelligence showed that the MiGs exhibited a tendency to avoid the F-4s.

  Our ruse was simple. Our F-4s would mount a typical large strike using the F-105 call signs, routes, and timings, the routine stuff that the North Vietnamese were used to seeing in the predictable bombing raids by the Thuds; but we would be armed for air-to-air combat with four AIM-7E Sparrows and four AIM-9B Sidewinders each instead of for bombing. Since we were not allowed to attack the North Vietnamese airfields, and they knew it, the MiGs would come up after us and get a deadly reception. Flights of Phantoms would come in from different directions and orbit the VPAF airfields, preventing any MiGs from landing and, we hoped, running the bastards out of fuel. Finally, if they chose to escape to Nanning in China, there would be other flights of F-4s airborne waiting to block their escape and counter any possible support from Nanning into the battle area.

  First things first: Emulating F-105s depended on making the North Vietnamese think the approaching force was a typical strike package. This they usually did by reports from ground observers and by radar interpretation. To fool the radar system we planned to fly the same formation and at the same speed as the F-105s, using Thud call signs. It was simple. But could we fool the ground observers? That depended on luck and the cloud cover. Knowing that the MiGs were scrambled each day when the incoming strike force crossed the Black River, and assuming they were sent to orbit points out of the anticipated path of the incoming fighters, planning to intercept the enemy was an interesting challenge.

  It was crucial to accurately predict the capabilities and possible reaction of the MiGs. How long could the MiGs stay airborne with five minutes of air-to-air combat? How would they react to the aggressive F-4Cs and how many suitable fields were available in the area for their recovery? Next, our F-4 capabilities: How long could the F-4 engage in battle and return home safely? How long could the F-4 stay over the airfields if not engaged? How many airfields did the F-4 have to cover? For how long? Also of prime concern were the concentration and effectiveness of the defenses in the battle area and the exposure time of our forces. Each of these matters bore significantly upon the final decisions of our force structure. It was determined that the MiG-17s and 21s could remain airborne for approximately fifty minutes with five minutes of engagement time and could recover at any of five airfields in the battle area.

  In this phase of planning, Captain Stone, Lieutenant Wetterhahn, and I plotted possible inbound routes, then took turns playing as if we were sitting at a scope in the enemy radar network. Using technical data available, we cal
culated how far our strike force would move between each rotation of their main antennas. Then we guessed how many antenna sweeps it might take for an operator to detect a change in the blips denoting our approaching path. After two, hopefully three, sweeps, the operator would notice something different and then advise his supervisor, who in turn would have to call his boss up the line, which would take time. Assuming that the VPAF air defense director was an experienced battle commander, he would still need time to interpret the information and issue orders to his own aircraft to counter our movements. These estimates seemed critical to me, considering we would be moving at an indicated 540 knots covering 9 miles each minute. Any delay on the part of the defenses gave us just that much more time before they caught on to our ruse.

  The more we played this game, the clearer the picture became. Each of us really got into the scene. I felt like I was actually the air defense commander in Hanoi interpreting and countering the moves reported to me. We hoped our attacking moves would appear to be normal until the last possible moment, at which time we would spread out into a sweep formation, turning down Thud Ridge with our first three flights line abreast and scanning the sky ahead with our own radars. I hoped this would detect any MiGs airborne in front of us. Also crucial to success was allowing the first three flights entering the combat area to have “missile-free” firing options. For a few short minutes, these F-4s would know exactly where all friendly aircraft were. Any other aircraft could be assumed to be enemy and could be fired upon without need for close-up visual identification. Within this specific time, we would have the element of surprise, be safe from counterfire, and be able to launch missiles in ideal conditions, i.e., without battling excessive g-forces.

  It would be my responsibility to lead the first flight into the area, and we had to simulate a Thud feint all the way in. We planned to use the same tanker track, refueling altitude, ingress route, altitude, airspeed, and radio communications as were used daily by the Thud strike forces. Once the MiGs were lured up, they’d realize the trap, and there would no longer be a need for the rest of the force to continue with any F-105 tactics.

  We had to devise code names for the flights, and J.B. thought it would be funny to name us after cars. Naturally my flight would be “Olds.” Chappie’s would be “Ford” because J.B. thought of Fords as big, black, and fun. J.B. would be “Rambler.” Other flights were named “Lincoln,” “Tempest,” “Plymouth,” and “Vespa.” Olds Flight would be followed in five-minute intervals by Ford and then Rambler, and the remaining four Ubon flights were timed to cover the enemy recovery bases: Phuc Yen, Gia Lam, Yen Bai, and Hoa Lac. One of my flights would be approaching or over each of these bases for a bit over an hour. I knew any MiGs still airborne would be running out of fuel and desperate to land, but their ground controllers would see Phantoms waiting for them at each place. With luck, we could run one or two of them out of fuel.

  Phuc Yen was used as the primary target at H+00, with the remainder of the force timed into the battle area after that. Based on airfield locations and tanker requirements, we decided that the force would be composed of an east and a west element. The west force, composed of seven flights of F-4Cs from the 8th TFW, would be responsible for getting the MiGs airborne, sweeping the suspected orbit areas, and covering Phuc Yen and Gia Lam airfields. The east force, composed of five flights from the 366th at Da Nang, would be responsible for airfield coverage of Kep and Cat Bi and for blocking egress and/or ingress to the ChiCom field at Nanning. The whole plan would be supported by EB-66s for jamming, with Iron Hand aircraft (F-105Fs) positioned for SAM and flak suppression and some F-104s used as a barrier cap to protect the main attack forces on egress.

  The east element from Da Nang was to come up the coast, top off from tankers over the Gulf of Tonkin, then proceed inland as though they were on a strike to the bridges on the northeast railroad. Their first flight would turn suddenly for a spot just northwest of the airbase at Kep. There they would surely find the MiG-17s in orbit, awaiting orders from their ground controller. The second Da Nang flight would back up the first, and the third was to go to a point blocking escape of any MiGs north into China. The rest of the Da Nang force would spread out and cover the known MiG bases east of Hanoi and the port of Haiphong.

  The next step in the planning was to establish a missile-free environment for as many of the counter air forces as possible, to take advantage of the surprise element and to optimize the AIM-7E Sparrow launch environment. Our plan allowed the first three flights, Olds, Ford, and Rambler, a full or partial missile-free environment as we passed through the suspected orbit areas. My flight, being first in, was provided a full missile-free option as we crossed the Red River. Our main purpose was to pick off the top cover orbit, then proceed directly to Phuc Yen to provide airfield coverage in spite of MiGs or other obstacles. Ford Flight, second in, was to fly through the orbit area to the west of Thud Ridge, and Rambler was to sweep the area east of the ridge. All twelve F-4Cs would remain missile-free until I ordered them otherwise. At that point the battle area would be saturated with Phantoms and visual identification procedures would prevail. Any MiG sighted by any flight would be aggressively engaged and pursued with every attempt made to destroy.

  The details we had on MiG capability told us that the ideal counter air force would be composed of sixteen to eighteen flights of F-4C aircraft. This required twenty-five tankers to supply pre- and poststrike refueling. The predicted battle area was within the most heavily defended airspace ever faced by U.S. forces. These defenses of SAMs and radar-controlled AA batteries meant our F-4s would be at great risk without the QRC-160 ECM jammers. We had watched them effectively employed by the F-105s for the last several months and knew they felt confidence in them. Exposure was a problem for us but solutions were in the works.

  Most critical to the success of Bolo, we had to have clear, real-time intelligence from USAF monitoring stations listening in to VPAF transmissions—no more of the bullshit of keeping essential knowledge secret from the strike force. VPAF transmissions had been monitored and translated but never shared down the line. It was sensitive, but it was imperative to have this intel for Bolo. We knew the VPAF would be monitoring our transmissions, so we gave code names to ground locations corresponding geographically to well-known cities in the United States so that the monitoring sites could tell us what the enemy was doing and where. Phuc Yen, northwest of Hanoi, would be called “Frisco,” and Gia Lam, in Hanoi, was “Los Angeles.” Getting the requirement for the real-time communication info across to 7th AF HQ became my urgent goal.

  Finally satisfied that the plan was the best we could produce, I went to Saigon on December 22 to brief General Momyer and his staff. Momyer said “Go!” right away and accepted the plan without a change. Execution was set for January 1. To my relief and satisfaction, he willingly authorized the release of the monitoring data in real time. This concession would finally break the intel logjam. It had significant impact on the success and safety of forces for months and years to come.

  Operation Bolo was under way. It would be the first offensive fighter sweep of the Vietnamese conflict. We had nine days left to get ready. Once HQ approved, a lot of the air force participated in both preparation and execution. The 8th and 366th wings were the strike force. The 355th and 388th would provide SAM suppression. 7th AF planned the support of the EB-66 ECM forces, KC-135 tankers, Big Eye EC-121 battle monitor, SAR (search and rescue) elements, C-130 airborne command post, and in-country radar ground-controlled intercept (GCI) sites.

  From Saigon I went directly to the 366th TFW in Da Nang and briefed them on their part of the plan. As it turned out, I gave two briefings at Da Nang. For some reason I wasn’t sure the pilots and their leaders in the 366th Wing were taking me seriously. I couldn’t blame them. With General Momyer’s support behind me, they listened.

  General Donovan Smith called from Saigon. “Robin, we want you to carry ECM pods. I know the F-4s have never done that, but the Thuds have. We�
�re scarfing up all we can find and I’ll have them sent to you and the 366th. I think carrying the ECM gadgets for radar jamming will convince the guys up north you’re really Thuds.” We’d cram a quick course in handling the pods into the time remaining for our aircrews and maintainers. The F-4C had never used the QRC-160 pods operationally. There were no provisions at either Ubon or Da Nang for adapting the pods to the F-4C, no technical orders for loading or checkout, and no test equipment.

  Every aircraft in the fighter sweep would need a QRC-160 ECM aboard to minimize possible U.S. losses. This became the limiting factor in the size of the force because of the small number of pods available in theater at the time. A quick inventory showed fifty-seven pods available, thirty-two at Korat and twenty-five at Takhli. This number became the basic planning factor for force structure. We would need to adapt the Phantoms to carry the pods, but to maintain secrecy, the Thuds would have to continue to use the pods on normal missions until two days before Bolo. Then F-105 ground crews would have to remove the pods at night and get them shipped up to us for immediate installation. The pods would then have to be removed after Bolo and sent back for immediate reinstallation on the Thuds.

  8th Wing guys got to work right away on the problem. The sway braces on the F-4 bomb racks didn’t hit the pods in the proper place. “No sweat,” said one of my young NCOs in the fabrication shop. He worked thirty-six hours straight to fabricate a replacement top panel for the pods so our birds could carry them. Then another glitch cropped up. Long ago, some engineer had designed the F-4 wiring so that we had to carry the little pod on the right outboard pylon. No other weapon station had the proper wiring. In our case, the F-4 carried 370-gallon fuel tanks on the outboard stations. These could be jettisoned if necessary and usually were if a hassle with MiGs was imminent. The inboard pylons could accommodate a wide variety of weapons. With a TER, or triple ejection rack, that station normally carried three 750-pound bombs. Heat-seeking air-to-air missiles were also carried on those pylons. The fuselage centerline station was the granddaddy. It could carry a 600-gallon tank or six 750-pound bombs on a MER, or multiple ejection rack. Half buried in the fuselage were four long-range radar-guided missiles that could reach out some 20 miles depending on the target aspect, relative closure speeds, and altitude. We had to carry a 600-gallon tank on the centerline to get to our targets. The tank was not stressed for heavy maneuvering and was almost always jettisoned on combat missions.