In a couple of days we received an execution order to move the detachment to Bien Hoa Air Base in the Republic of South Vietnam. Steve, Chuck and I ferried the birds to Bien Hoa which was about 20 miles north of Saigon. It was a clear day with light winds as we flew over the Bien Hoa radio beacon for approach and landing. Several times from my plane I called “Ben Ho” on the radio but received no answer. An English-speaking voice finally came on the radio and said, “Try ‘Ben Waa’.” I called “Ben Waa” exactly like that and right away a voice on the radio answered in English. I never understood why they didn't answer to “Ben Ho.” I guess it was a French thing; if you don't say it to their liking, they don't answer.
A week after we arrived in Vietnam several members of the detachment were invited to meet the US Ambassador in Saigon. The Ambassador informed us that there were about 15,000 military personnel in South Vietnam. They were in an advisory capacity throughout the country. He told us we were the only independent unit there made up entirely of Americans. We were warned to be careful of what we said and what we did. He said we must be armed at all times and travel only in groups of two or three. We should never get into a position where we would be vulnerable to attack; we should never allow ourselves to be isolated from our unit. The Ambassador said they had found that the entire cadre of barbers on Tan Son Nhut Air Base was Viet Cong at night and friendly barbers during the day.
I drew a. 45 caliber pistol because I had qualified expert with it. Chuck, being the hunter among us, had a carbine. Bob Spencer wanted something heavier and drew a Thompson submachine gun. We joked with him saying, “We didn't need to carry our weapons as long as you and your Tommy were with us.”
The next day we started flying U-2 photographic reconnaissance missions over all of North Vietnam right up to the borders of China, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and South Vietnam. Within a month we had mapped most of Southeast Asia (SEA).
Our Intelligence Briefer informed us the Viet Cong were everywhere around our airfield. To avoid ground fire on our landing approaches, we adjusted our landing patterns so we would arrive over the field at 3,000 feet or higher above the ground and then spiraled down so our ground track was within the perimeter of the base. We planned the touchdown point at the first taxiway down the runway, approximately 2,000 feet from the end. Every so often while I was there, the Viet Cong would lob a mortar shell onto the base but nothing was ever hit.
The U-2 pilots were quartered in Vietnam in two bedroom trailers with two men to a bedroom. The trailers were located close to the base Control Tower. I was always apprehensive about that because I thought the highly visible Control Tower would make a good target for mortars. That was where we lived, though. After I had rotated back to Davis Monthan AFB the Viet Cong destroyed several B-57s sitting on the ramp not too far from our U-2s and trailers. Everyone ate in the same mess hall in a barbed wire fenced compound. Our Officers’ Club was primitive with only a bar, a few lounge chairs and a chessboard. We did receive first-run movies though; a new movie was shown every night at no charge. Jim Qualls and I played chess and drank MiG-5s (a drink consisting of two shots of Scotch and one of Drambouie) until we didn't care who won. Jim usually won. With a few MiG-5s under my belt, I didn't much care about anything.
Going to church was a unique experience. There was no chapel in the compound so we walked about a mile to a church in a small village. I worried at first about walking out in the boondocks to go to church. Our Intelligence Briefer informed us that almost all hostilities were suspended on Sundays. I gave him a little smile and asked him if the Viet Cong knew we do not fight on Sundays. I never understood the attitude of the Viet Cong. Supposedly they were Communists and by definition did not believe in God. Why was Sunday any different kind of day to them? I guess everyone needs a day off occasionally, even the Communists.
Victor L. (Vic) Milam
Del Rio, Texas
Wife: Louene
My Scariest U-2 Flight
I was returning to Bien Hoa Air Base, Vietnam after a flight over North Vietnam. Everything was normal until about four and a half hours into the flight. I was still North of DaNang Air Base headed south at about 70,000 feet altitude. With no warning, I suddenly lost all pitot static instruments. Airspeed went to zero; vertical speed indicator dropped to the bottom of the dial and stayed there. The attitude indicator tended to float. I immediately disengaged the autopilot knowing that it functions with information from the pitot static system. My dilemma was to let down, keeping my airspeed within what we called the “chimney”.
At the cruise altitude of the U-2, the difference between stalling the bird and exceeding its limiting Mach was about eight knots indicated airspeed. I was trying to stay between the stall buffet on low side and high speed Mach buffet on the other with no instruments to help, only the feel of the aircraft. My only option was to start descending. I was most thankful then that I was just North of DaNang rather than over North Vietnam where I had just been for the previous couple of hours.
It was almost impossible to avoid looking at the instruments in my situation in order to fly the airplane. But looking at them was somewhat less than productive since they were totally useless. I knew I had to ride the Mach buffet because getting my bird into a stall buffet would probably be disastrous. If the U-2 stalls at those altitudes, recovery is unlikely before the tail comes off the airplane. The airplane is unstable at these altitudes and tends to continue further into the Mach buffet or stall attitude buffet if it should get into either one.
Victor L. Milam (center) with crew chiefs, preparing for a flight.
Trying to maintain a Mach buffet was a real “seat of the pants” pilotage challenge for me. A little too much nose down meant to pull back on the yoke which caused more buffet. Then coming out of that into no buffet, I had to nose down again or risk a stall. I had retarded the throttle but could not risk lowering the gear or going into the gust position. It would add too much turbulence and hamper my feel for how the airplane was flying. I had to get lower first and I was sweating bullets as it was. After what to me was an agonizingly long time, I was able to descend to a more favorable altitude. I then lowered the gear and extended the gust to give myself a larger airspeed envelope in which to fly. Still no instruments, but I could tell by the rush of air noise and feel of the airplane that I was within a safe flying airspeed.
Victor L. Milam, 1968.
Saigon street scene.
This condition continued until at 17,000 feet when everything suddenly jerked back to proper indications. I continued to Bien Hoa Air Base and made a normal landing.
There was really nothing to write up for post flight. In talking with Maintenance personnel, it was decided that somehow moisture had formed in the pitot static system. The moisture then had moved into a position to freeze, thereby causing me to lose pitot static instruments. I had never had that happen before or since.
Of the Air Medals and two Distinguished Flying Crosses I received for being at the right place at the right time, I thought this incident was more deserving that any other was. However, it was not reported and I was just thankful to get the bird and myself down safely.
James K. Rogers
Sumter, South Carolina
Wife: Marge
The First Flight
My first U-2 flight was simply flying at low levels accompanied by a chase aircraft to verify I was not trying to kill myself or anyone else in the process of learning this new plane. My instructor pilot was in the chase plane, a U-3A, the military version of the Cessna 310, known as the Blue Canoe. Another instructor was on the ground in a chase vehicle monitoring my touchdown control and landing technique. I simply made numerous touch and go landings to prove I knew what I was doing to land this difficult aircraft safely.
The second flight, a solo, was a tad different. There was no chase plane to monitor my progress, and I wore the partial pressure suit. I climbed to 50,000 feet altitude and shut the engine off. It became very quiet in the cockpit, and the pressu
re suit inflated as it was supposed to do. I must have resembled the Michelin Man in the television tire commercials. The next step was to glide to 30,000 feet and restart the engine. In our training manual this was described as a “confidence maneuver.” In reality the U-2 is a safe aircraft. Most of the flying time was at an altitude of 70,000 feet or greater. If the engine quit up there, we had almost an hour to determine where to land should the engine fail to restart.
The one disadvantage for the pilot of the U-2 was its capability to fly for over twelve hours without refueling. I flew a dozen flights from Laughlin AFB, Texas to Cuba and returned to Laughlin. When we moved our operations to Barksdale AFB, Louisiana, flying time to/from Cuba was cut by at least three hours. At the end of those missions, I staggered out of the cockpit, climbed down the ladder to the tarmac and stumbled around trying to return the circulation to my legs. After breathing 100 percent oxygen flying twelve hours seated in the tiny cockpit, I was ten pounds lighter due to loss of body fluids. Within a couple of days, my fluid levels returned to normal as did my weight. Thus began my penchant for a large gin and ice drink before dinner each evening, a tradition that continues today.
Vietnam
It was an interesting day over Hanoi, North Vietnam (NVN) in September 1964. We had been flying in that area for almost six months with absolutely no reaction from the enemy. This particular morning was around the time of the Gulf of Tonkin incident with the US Navy. Ed Perdue and I were both flying missions around Hanoi that morning when I heard Ed transmitting over Guard Channel. This channel was used only for emergencies and transmission could be received by any unit that had Guard Channel on their radio. I heard, “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” I knew Ed and I were in the same general area, but we would never have made radio calls in the clear on any channel. After another painful minute that seemed like an hour, I switched to Guard Channel and called to Ed. “Ed, are you okay. This is Jim.” He responded, “Yes, I am under missile attack, and I'm returning to base.” I reported I was right behind him and headed out to the Gulf of Tonkin to vacate the area directly over Hanoi.
It was just two years following the loss of our U-2 over Cuba by a missile that shot down Rudy Anderson in October 1962. In Rudy's situation and our current one, the aircraft were not equipped with Radar Warning (RAW) devices to signal us of enemy tracking our aircraft in search mode. However, we knew the direction of the radar, the mode in which the radar was on, and the direction in which we should be looking to visually detect the incoming missile.
We learned two important things from this incident: Our intelligence on NVN's defenses was faulty. Up to that time we had no clue they possessed Surface to Air (SAM) missiles and there was no reason why aircraft were not equipped with the RAW gear. We were grounded from flying over NVM for ten days until the radar warning gear was installed on all our aircraft.
The only reason Ed did not get shot down that morning was that he was flying his target route by dead reckoning (magnetic heading and time). The area was completely covered by low clouds which denied him the ability to visually track his target. It was time for his turn to a new direction, and it was in the turn when he looked back in the direction he had been flying and saw the missile screaming vertically past him.
A month before this incident I had a flight over Hanoi that led me in the direction of China to the north. The route was an extension from Hanoi to my next turning point just south of China. I was worried about the weather on this mission, and it was very similar to the one Ed flew a month before with surprising results. The area was covered with low clouds estimated to be 70,000 feet below my flight altitude. As I left the Hanoi area and approached the China border, I was very careful to watch the time and heading on that segment of my flight. Within thirty seconds of my time to turn almost 180 degrees to the south, I noticed a break in the clouds ahead. I continued for another fifteen seconds when I recognized from my map of NVM the town on the border near China. I was more than a little relieved to know my dead reckoning navigation was on time and target.
After the Fall
Until the Gulf of Tonkin incident on August 2 and 4, 1964, US personnel in Vietnam were strictly advisors supporting ground and air troops of the South Vietnamese (SVN) government. An example of the support we provided was with the A-1C Skyraider two-seat propeller aircraft, formerly a Navy bird from the Korean War era. It had sufficient capability to give ground troops some air suppression. The A-1C aircraft were on a lend/lease program (a politically correct term for donated by the US) with the SVN government. A SVN Air Force pilot in training flew the aircraft with a USAF pilot in the instructor seat. The USAF pilot was considered the primary pilot, and if necessary, fired the guns and dropped any bombs.
Jim Rogers in the dressing room, prior to a flight.
Saigon, October 1964.
US Embassy, Saigon, 1964.
Saigon street scene, 1964.
Once a week Roger Herman, Vic Milam, Tony Martinez, our operating location commander, and I would jump into a van available for our use and drive to a great little restaurant near Bien Hoa on the Mekong River called Le Plage. It became a favorite place for many in our unit as an escape from the base chow hall. Thanks to the French influence, the food was exceptional and the escargot appetizer delicious, even if it did take a bit of effort to appreciate the first time.
On one of our trips to this particular restaurant, we were waiting for our meal when a big black Mercedes roared into the parking lot. Two guys with machine guns came running into our dining area and quickly scanned the restaurant. Actually at that time of day, there were very few diners. The gun carriers turned on their heels, returned to their car and sped away at the same speed they arrived. It all happened so quickly, we were completely surprised and had no idea what had taken place.
Within ten minutes the same black sedan returned to the parking lot, and General Nguyen Cao Ky, the SVN Air Force Commander, exited the vehicle and entered the restaurant. He and his bodyguards were seated in an area isolated from other diners at a specially arranged table with several bottles of liquor. General Nguyen was a dashing young officer who was already becoming well known to the local populace as a political figure. He was a flamboyant individual and dressed the part in his customized uniforms and flight suits. He was certainly the epitome of the word “class.”
General Nguyen, most likely a regular at the restaurant, commanded and received preferential treatment from the entire restaurant staff during his twenty-minute lunch. It was quite amusing and interesting for the four of us to witness the spectacle. When he left the restaurant, he nodded in our direction and smiled as he passed by. We were in civilian dress, but we obviously stood out as Americans.
The Tribal War
In the fall of 1964 a tribal war erupted between the NVN forces and the Montagnard tribesmen who inhabited the central highlands of SVN. The Montagnards, aided by SVN forces and US advisors, hated the invading NVN troops who entered SVN via the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Equipped with short barreled twelve-gauge shotguns, the Montagnards fought the Viet Cong in the jungles of SVN. During nightly fights between the two forces, we were kept entertained with gunfire around the base and the occasional shoot down of an aircraft with small arms as it landed at Bien Hoa. The victims of the gunfire were SVN aircraft, several CIA planes and even an occasional A-1C were hit by snipers using small arms to shoot them down in the traffic pattern. It was all relatively low key until the base commander at Bien Hoa, Colonel “Wild” Bill Bethae from South Carolina received intelligence information that the NVN forces were planning a big “pow wow” in the jungles near Saigon. He marshaled every aircraft available for attack and killed many of the Viet Cong leaders attending the meeting. Within a week following the attack, flyers were found in Saigon offering a bounty on Colonel Bethea's life by the Viet Cong. Wild Bill retired in South Carolina a few years later, still quite healthy. I came away from this tour of duty with a souvenir of one of those discarded twelve-gauge shotguns. However, the gun was illegal in the
US, so I gave it to a friend in Ecuador.
U-2 detachment personnel, Bien Hoa AB, October 1964. 4028th Squadron Commander Lt Col Tony Martinez is standing far right. Jim Rogers is seated far left in the first row.
South Vietnamese Government building, 1964.
Woman herding water buffalo.
Pilots’ trailer, Bien Hoa AB, 1964.
Typical family home, Vietnam 1964.
Family And Community
“One of the greatest gifts that life can give to anyone is the very special love that families share.”
Craig S. Tunks
Military Wives
It was just another harried Wednesday afternoon trip to the commissary (grocery store on military bases). My husband was off teaching young men to fly. My daughters were going about their daily activities knowing I would return to them at the appointed time, bearing among other things, their favorite fruit snacks, frozen pizza, and all the little extras that never had to be written down on a grocery list. My grocery list was in my 16-month-old daughter's mouth, and I was lamenting the fact that the next four aisles of needed items would have to wait. I was extracting the last of my list from my daughter's mouth, when I accidentally hit an old man with my cart.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 46