561st Tactical Fighter
Squadron, McConnell AFB, Wichita KS, Mar
thru Jun 1997
It was fortuitous that the F-105 was the
only century series fighter I had not flown.
If I had already flown it, I expect that my
lack of experience in dive-bombing would
have been overlooked in light of my fighter
background and I would have arrived in
combat as a less effective pilot. I was
sent to McConnell AFB for checkout and
tactical training, including weapons
delivery, aerial refueling, etc.
I knew that gaining skill in dive-bombing
needed to be first order of importance. I
had the vital and difficult parameter of
dive angle wired from my Eglin days and was
practiced in visualization, which served
especially well in preparing for difficult
and complex flight tests, where there is not
opportunity for practice, except in your
mind. Dive-bombing was what I concentrated
on, although I did hit the one air-to-air
(dart) target on my first pass, which I
should with my past in that facet of
combat. I didn’t expect to be doing low
angle strafe, but it is least difficult and
I had learned it as a new pilot. As I
expected dive-bombing was where the rubber
met the road in Vietnam. It would become
the be-all and end-all of our success or
failure, and there was never chance to
practice!
I would awake late at night when the quiet
and dark were excellent for ‘making
repetitive dive runs’. Pretty soon I could
visualize the runs, end to end, with
corrections for presumed contingencies.
Before school was out, I was an outstanding
bomber and I had established the lowest
4-bomb, average miss distance (CEP).
Nothing else in all my flying experience
satisfied me more or served me better than
that in Vietnam.
During training, we had a rule that pullout
from runs had to be completed by a minimum
altitude. This had no bearing on our
accuracy because we had a release altitude
of 4000 feet, as I recall. I used release
altitude faithfully, which must always be
adjusted for accuracy control as release
parameters vary on every pass. I never was
one to pull-up too quickly after bomb
release for fear of misguiding it, even in
combat, so I once broke the ceiling
established and was reported. I was
directed to go to the tower and pull a
‘punishment tour”. I expected to have some
of the trainees as my wingmen in combat and
wasn’t about to leave that memory in
legacy. I refused, was sent to the Wing
Commander, apologized and explained my
rationale for refusal but stated my
determination to take court-martial, if
necessary. I definitely would have seen that
out to the end. The colonel understood my
predicament, complemented my training record
and dismissed the issue.
I also had the opportunity to spend quality
time with some great guys with whom I would
fly in Vietnam. Among them, I met three
students and new friends who would fly their
tour in my squadron. They were Col. John
Flynn, Maj. Spence “Sam” Armstrong and Maj.
Donald Hodge. Spence became my Operations
Officer, Don a Flight Commander, and all
three of us proudly served and flew with
John Flynn, as our Wing, Vice Commander.
There were 18 of us from all walks of Air
Force Life. Bill Reed a fine man was among
those that ended up in Korat, along with Ed
Deck, Cal Diehl and Bob Grubb
Bob stood out for the courage or just plain
raw guts to move from a life on the right
side of a B-52 cockpit and volunteered to
join us. He was not only long in guts but
raw talent at the beginning. I remember
seeing him latch on for his first air-to-air
refueling and go into a J.C. maneuver, so
violent yet he reacted so fast that he
stayed attached with the nose hardly moving
on his bird but the tail on a huge up and
down excursion and I might mention his head
was more nearly keeping up with the
oscillating tail than the nose. If he were
not strapped in he would have done the first
ejection through the canopy, without firing
a charge. They went on to perform very well
and bravely in combat, which was predictable
in training.
Another event that brought us together was
survival school, and its hardships, most
notably the simulated POW camp experience,
where force and pain were combined with
psychological pressure by expert and
realistic captors, even with foreign accents
for effect, after a week of grueling evasion
had sapped strength and will. The
instructions we received for the Korean War
of telling the enemy anything to avoid
torture except detrimental to fellow POWs,
had been replaced by hold on as long as
possible and then give up as little as
necessary, if captured in Vietnam. This was
excellent training to prepare for that
eventuality. Due to winter we evaded in
snow of the mountains of Oregon, not very
appropriate for NVN, but very effective in
sapping strength when being tracked at the
risk of starting all over from the
beginning, if ever captured. Ultimately we
were placed in a position of certain
capture, with the unreal prospects of
evading to a safe house, through heavily
guarded areas, to sap the last vestiges of
endurance and strength before capture and
incarceration. They added the last measure
of physical stress crawling through
concertina wire barricades before inevitable
capture, and the P.O.W. experience that
followed was made very real, physically and
emotionally.
We graduated, said our goodbyes to families
and were headed to the combat zone as our
trip to Thailand was recalled by Major
Spence “Sam” Armstrong:
“Bob Smith, Don Hodge and I
boarded a Continental Air Lines DC-8 at
Travis Air Force Base in California. We
stopped at Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii
for fuel then endured the long haul to Clark
Air Base in the Philippines. We stayed there
for almost a week to undergo Jungle Survival
School.
After a brief classroom session,
we were taken out on the survival trek with
our classmates from McConnell, into the
jungle.
A highlight of the course was the
demonstrations we got from the Negritos.
They were a group of natives of the
aboriginal type. They lived in the jungle
and kept themselves separate from the
Phillipinos except to act as guards around
their compounds. The Negritos were small
but expert hunters and fighters who were
greatly feared by the Phillipinos. We had
one exercise where we were told to hide in
the jungle to see if they could find us.
They did in short order. Another thing they
did was to use some bamboo sections to cook
taro roots, which they had harvested from
the jungle. It was actually quite tasty!
I’m not sure if the Negritos understood us
or not as they never spoke a word that we
could understand. We all commented that it
was too bad that we couldn’t take them with
us on our missions because survival in the
jungles of North Vietnam would be easy with
their assistance.”
My own favorite memory of jungle survival
training, relates to our hide and seek, with
the Negritos. Their reputation provided me
with a great challenge to evade. We were
told to stay out of the huge bamboo stands
because of the deadly vipers that lived in
them and were referred to as ‘two-steppers’,
about how far you would move before dying,
since the toxins were said to affect both
the nerves and blood system.
I rationalized my odds with the snakes with
the prize in personal satisfaction of
beating the “unbeatable” Negritos and eased
deep within a huge, almost impenetrable
stand of bamboo, trying so carefully to
avoid tracks or disturb the bamboo. I
figured that no matter how good the tracker,
if I traveled deep enough in it I would get
through some areas without trace.
Satisfied, I then lay down in a ball to
listen, for what seemed an eternity. I
heard nothing, until startled by a tap on my
shoulder and a strange voice, coming from a
diminutive Negrito!
I stopped doubting the tales of how fearful
the Japanese occupiers of the Islands were
of those little people who hated their
enemies so much that they would sneak into
their barracks at night and randomly slice
throats, intentionally leaving survivors to
awake and quake.
While we were at Clark Air Base near Manila,
Chuck and Glynnis Yeager invited me to
dinner at their home on the base. Chuck was
the Commander of a Composite Wing, which had
both fighters and light bombers in its
squadrons and which would go on temporary
duty for special missions in the Vietnam
Theater of Operations. It was an especially
relaxing feeling of being at home in the
States, a feeling I would not have again for
a long time.
Sam continues .......
“We took a military charter
flight from Clark to Bangkok. We had one
night in Bangkok in the Grand Hotel before
we flew to our respective bases in upper
Thailand—Takhli and Korat.
The next day we were picked up
with our belongings and taken out to the
military airport there in Bangkok where we
boarded a C-47, which dropped us off at our
respective bases. We got out of the
venerable “gooney bird” C-47 on the ramp at
Korat where the F-105’s were parked.
Someone was finishing his 100th
mission that day and we witnessed the parade
and celebration that ensued. The
realization hit home—we had 100 missions
before we could be in the same position as
the lucky pilot who was headed home with
honor!
The day we arrived—1 October
1967—was the day that Korat went from 4
squadrons to three. This left the 34th
and the 469th squadrons as the
strike squadrons. Those two squadrons flew
the single seat F-105D, which dropped bombs,
and the designation of 44th
squadron went to the new “Wild Weasel”
squadron.” They put us up in temporary
quarters until we were assigned to a
squadron the next day. Bob, Don and I were
assigned to the 34th. Now we
could move into our squadron “hooches”.
Each hooch had four rooms for two pilots
each, a screened-in porch and a common
bathroom. The rooms were air-conditioned
and quite roomy for a combat tour! Plus,
each hooch had a Thai girl assigned who
cleaned, washed our clothes and shined our
flying boots. Each flight had a pickup
truck assigned to it so we had five of them
for our squadron plus one for the squadron
commander. These trucks were equipped with
a canopied flatbed and seats along the side
in back.
Everything was pretty standard to
checking in at any new assignment until the
sergeant asked me where I’d like to go on my
follow-on assignment. I expressed surprise
by saying: “I just got here”! He
responded: “Well, if you make it through
100 missions, it takes about 6 months and
that’s how much time we need to work your
next assignment. It was the “if” that got
my attention. That point would be quickly
emphasized!