Last and Lost Doumer Mission
Our next opportunity at the bridge came on
14 February 1968. I was again flying as
mission commander and had only 34th
squadron pilots in the attack group. Spence
Armstrong flew my number 3 in the lead
flight as deputy and Don Hodge led the 2nd
flight, responsible for flak suppression.
Dave Igleman, another of the 34th
many assets, was also in our formation and
his recollections are included below.
After some good results on previous attacks
on that bridge, and with added experience, I
looked forward once more to this most
challenging and stimulating of all the
mission challenges. I have decided to use
the words of one of the finest officers,
outstanding pilots, courageous warriors and
kindest 3-star generals I know, whom I
selected for my element lead on this
mission, such a big show! But the main
reason is I like what he says about me in
this, even if it convinces me that time and
age have dulled his senses as well as they
have his golf swing. We played once in
training at Wichita and again many years
later, and I can attest that both recalling
facts and hitting for distance now elude
him, but flinging complimentary blarney sure
has not diminished.
By passing on the narrative of this mission
to him, I avoid explaining the
unexplainable, and an urge for excuses,
where I had none. If you have read this
autobiography, you know that was by no means
my first major screw-up. So I can take the
heat, however, I protest that he brings up
that my bombs missed the bridge …
considering the scant margin of my miss. I
assure you they were not more 50 miles short
of the target, as the F-105 flies, but
that’s up for debate!
The fact is that I made a damned good dive
bomb run when we finally reached the target,
even though I may not have been
concentrating as well on bomb accuracy as
usual, but I did try to. I was aware of
flak more than on any other mission! Here’s
how Spence Armstrong remembers that mission:
“The weather cleared in Pack VI A so we
launched against the Hanoi Railroad and
Highway Bridge (alternately called the Canal
des Rapids Bridge) which I hadn’t bombed
since 28 October. Bob Smith was the mission
commander and I was flying #3 in the lead
flight, which meant that I was the deputy
mission commander. We went the water route
and dropped off on a Northwesterly heading
towards Hanoi in unusually clear weather.
As we neared the coastline of the Red River
Delta, I noted Bob’s two 3,000# bombs drop
and impact with violent explosion on the
beach. I called out: “Scuba lead, why
don’t you turn around and I’ll take the
force in”. There was absolutely no reason
to risk oneself and an aircraft that had no
bombs. His response was: “Negative”. I
should have expected as much from
hard-headed Bob Smith. He knew that I was
perfectly capable of taking the force to the
target but he wasn’t about to retreat.
So Bob lead us in for a run on the bridge.
He made his dive bomb run as if he had bombs
to drop. Post strike photography showed
that there were about 30 cars on the bridge
when we arrived and the locomotive was
valiantly trying to back off which
apparently he was able to do. I released my
bombs and joined up with Bob for our
egress. Our #2 man, Bill Thomas and our #4
man, Gary Durkee were no where to be seen so
the two of us headed to the tankers. When
we coasted up to the tankers, we observed
that the two of them were already there. I
should mention that this was the first Pack
VIA mission for both of them and that
probably accounts for their actions.
I called out: “Hey, #2, you’ve still got a
bomb on your right wing”. Gary Durkee
called: “And you’ve got one on your left
wing too”. Bill apparently didn’t realize
that his 3,000# bombs had not released when
he hit the button. Even with this extra
load, he had out run us and Gary was so
mesmerized by the 6 SA-2 missile launched
and the 85 mm flak which popped around us,
just before roll-in, that he hadn’t noticed
the bombs on Bill’s aircraft. They were
justified in having adrenaline up to their
eyeballs because of the enemy defenses since
Capt. Bob Elliot from our squadron was hit
by a SA-2 on the way out and killed.
When we landed Bob Smith told us what
happened to him on the way in. He was
flying on auto-pilot as the mission
commanders always did to give some stability
to the many aircraft using him for guidance
when the auto-pilot “burped” and he
hurriedly grabbed the control stick. In his
haste he inadvertently hit the already armed
bomb release system. Explanation: There
were a dozen things that one had to do
before entering North Vietnam. Maybe some
pilots used a checklist but I memorized the
steps since I wanted to keep my head out of
the cockpit. I made up a little jingle
which contained the first letter of what
needed to be done and had rehearsed it
enough so that it came naturally even in
times of extreme stress! Some of those
steps were to dump the cabin pressure so
that you would not ingest fumes in case of a
hit in the compressor section. You also had
to verify that you had selected the correct
mil setting for the attack, selected the
proper ordnance on the appropriate station,
gone to 100% oxygen, etc. All of this time
you had to maintain your formation position
and look for Migs and SA-2’s. This was not
easy and the less competent/current pilots
had all they could handle! Bob had already
done all of this and now was concentrating
on positioning the force for the attack when
the auto-pilot “burped”.
Bob was now faced with two thoughts. The
first was what to do with Bill’s bombs. Our
3,000# bombs were a precious commodity, so
he was loathe to just drop them safe.
Secondly, he was still smarting over the
inadvertent loss of his bombs. So after we
all took on our post strike fuel (Bob told
us to take a couple thousand pounds more
than every other flight was taking on board)
Bob called for a FAC in Pack I. All of the
other flights proceeded down the Gulf and
headed back to Thailand across South
Vietnam—except the four of us. We flew into
Pack I and made contact with a FAC who said
that he had spotted a building at the North
end of Muy Ghia Pass where some bad guys
were hanging out. It was easy to see so Bob
told Bill Thomas to bomb it. Bill made his
run but the bombs failed to release a second
time—an obvious material malfunction. Bob
then told him to do it again but this time
to hit the jettison button, which caused the
bombs to impact still attached to the pylon
and thus not armed.
This was done. Then Bob asked the FAC if he
wanted us to strafe the building since we
had 1,000 rounds of 20mm ammo each. Of
course the FAC said yes. So Bob made the
first firing pass by flying below the
heights of the pass to get the right attack
dive angle. We all followed and made 3
passes each until we had fired all of our
ammo. I’m sure it looked to a casual
observer that we doing gunnery practice on a
range back in the states. In fact, Muy Ghia
Pass was known to have the fiercest defenses
on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Reconnaissance
aircraft transited it at 600 knots and still
were shot at by the flak sites situated on
the hillsides.
As far as any of us could tell, they never
fired a shot at us while we made these
vulnerable, multiple passes. We concluded
that this was such an unusually bold effort
that the North Vietnamese just knew it had
to be a trick! From my standpoint, I had
just hung my precious bottom out twice on
one mission for just one counter.
This was vintage Bob Smith! He had no fear
of anything.”
My thanks to Spence for his fine
compliments, and especially his excuse for
my having dumped the weapons for which I had
made the trip. It was like the cowboy in
the old western knocking the gun out of his
own holster just before the draw, any way I
look at it. I do take umbrage with his
insinuation that I might have used a
checklist. I never used one in a fighter in
my life, except during testing and then only
on test points. I was once serioulsy
chastised by one of the Air Force’s top test
pilots, Col. Tom Collin’s for failing to do
so on an F-104 Standard Evaluation, which
just might have exacerbated a poor OER that
he endorsed.
I promised to relay some recollections of
Dave Igleman, whose choice to discuss this
particular mission out of 100, was purely
his own. He was not aware that I would
write on it, but he shows you what a cruel
streak resides inside “Attack Pilots”, to
hit a man so hard when he’s down.
Dear Bob - after 35 years, my recollections
of my missions are rather short, inaccurate,
and mixed up together. There are snatches
from several missions that I recall vividly,
and then there are blurs that have been
little thought of over the past 35 years.
But one in particular was a bit humorous:
you had appointed me the Sq. Battle Damage
Assessment officer. As such, I had to
review gun camera film to determine aim
points, then film from various type cameras
on the underside of each Thud, take
"opinions" from each driver, then "score"
each sortie on a "bullseye" type target
sheet, using clock positions and distances,
such as "2 o'clock at 50 feet." I don't
recall how the data was used.
Anyway, we had not been to RP VI for a while
because of weather when we got the word that
the target area would be clear. In the
meantime, we had gotten some new pilots in
the squadron, and as the strike force
leader, you made several points in your
briefing that the Friggen New Guys should
pay attention to the old heads, and the old
heads should watch out for the FNGs.
As we dropped off the tankers over the gulf
and headed for NVN, you called for the
strike force to "green 'em up," then about 5
seconds later this little voice said "Lead,
your bombs came off." It was one of the
FNGs, flying as your #2. If you recall, I
had to give you a score of "6 o'clock at 120
miles." I don't recall the date, target, or
how well we hit the target, but I always
chuckle a bit when I remember that
incident. By the way, I don't think I can
tell many stories without using my hands!!
Dave Igelman
My comment on that would generally be that I
can’t respond to such an accusation without
using my hands either, at least one finger,
no more than two, even if I use both hands!
And if Dave can no longer remember an attack
on the Doumer his mentality has changed
little, and with that comment I get even.
My decision to continue leading the mission
through the attack had nothing to do with
courage but with duty, responsibility and a
lot of embarrassment, since the loss of my
weapons rested solely in my hands (no pun
intended). I had complete confidence in
Spence, which was why he flew #3 with me on
that particularly important mission, should
I have had to abort, but I did not, and
commanding was my primary assignment. That
was my most disappointing mission
performance in that tour. It left that same
sour memory for a lifetime that I carry from
my last battle with the Mig-15s in Korea,
but to a lesser degree.
As for the action in the lower route pack,
we often took on extra fuel to assist in the
never ceasing interdiction of supplies to
the Viet Cong that passed through the lower
route packs of NVN. I often found those
voluntary additions to my missions, very
exciting and rewarding. Cathartic, since the
damage to the enemy’s efforts against our
ground troops in SVN was more immediate in
those than the Route Pack VI attacks. It
was ‘lagniape’ as our New Orleans Cajun
friends say: A little something extra ....
at no charge! There were active defenses,
as many learned the hard way, some of them
in Thuds, but frankly, on the way home from
a dive attack in Pack VIA, those seemed
rather tame. We faced mostly 37’s and ZPU’s,
a Russian automatic AAA gun, that was very
fast tracking and effective at low altitude,
but the mass of fire had no comparison with
“Downtown”.
However, I almost bought the farm on one
such foray. A Misty FAC had two trucks
sighted, which proved to be empty, heading
back north, but there were low clouds. I
had the flight stay clear to avoid danger of
collision, with the reduced visibility and
took out the first truck with my cannon. It
only took a split second of fire to knock it
out. Following the FAC’s directions, I
spotted the other one, hard to keep in sight
because of the clouds and made another low
strafing pass but almost went with him. As
I started the pull-out from maybe 20 feet
above the tanker my K-70 got a picture just
as I passed. Then I caught the first sight
of a steep hill directly in my path. It was
too wide to skirt and terribly ominous,
because the clouds had forced me into a very
slow speed pass for the Thud and I couldn’t
get much turn or climb. My only choice was
straight pull-up, just avoiding a stall and
I suspect I was burning the leaves as I
barely made it over the peak.
 |
Route Pack I Burning Trucks |
On another mission I got four full fuel
trucks in just as many passes, before going
home, but the weather was more cooperative
and I got some better photos of the
results. In one a lone AAA gun, probably
37mm shows the tell-tale white smoke ball
from the barrel.
I regretted initiating that practice for a
long time, after I learned that Roger
Ingvalson, one of our more adventurous
pilots who practiced it with me, was shot
down and made prisoner on just such a
mission shortly after I returned to the
States. Roger was one of our outstanding
pilots and Armstrong’s replacement as
operations officer. I enjoyed a big relief,
when I learned what really happened.
Roger, took me off the hook when he recently
wrote to me about his last mission::
“My mission was to lead a flight
of two to knock a bridge down in North
Vietnam. We both had an air to ground
missile hung under each wing. It was a fun
assignment-no defenses-so I thought. We
were successful, on this, my 87th
mission.
A Misty, F-100, forward air
controller, requested that we hit an enemy
convoy of trucks. Having a full load of 20
mike-mike cannon shells available, I jumped
at the chance to attack and destroy the
enemy. I believed in high speed, low
altitude engagement to assure accuracy. I
rolled in above 500 knots, waiting to below
50 feet before pulling the trigger.
Surprise! Heavy defenses were in
the area. Explosion! My cockpit filled with
smoke immediately. I hit the afterburner to
gain some valuable altitude, pulled the
canopy ejection handle to get rid of some of
the smoke, and shot up to about 600 feet
when all hell broke loose. My aircraft went
into an uncontrollable roll. The problem
was that now I no longer was ascending but I
was heading down.
Urgent! Ignoring any ejection
procedures but rather by reflex, I pulled
the ejection seat handle and squeezed the
trigger. That’s the last thing that I
remembered until I regained consciousness
just before hitting the ground. Now, I
realized that I was doomed to capture. My
freedom was about to go! Dozens of little
brown people were racing toward me, yelling
in an angry foreign tongue.
As I hit the ground my first
reaction was to feel for broken bones
because with 15 years of experience, I was
fully aware of the chance of multiple
fractures in such a high- speed bailout. To
my amazement I had none, not even bruises.
I had spent my entire forty years
of life regularly going to church. However,
I was not a Christian. With my knowledge of
the Bible, I knew that Jesus Christ performs
miracles and there was no doubt that this
was a miracle. The Lord was getting my
attention so, in the middle of this dried
out rice paddy and angry people getting
ready to capture me, I prayed to God that
Jesus Christ would take over my life.
I was captured immediately but
because of making the most important
decision of my life I survived almost fire
years of torture, starvation and loneliness
as a Prisoner of War of the North Vietnamese
Communists.
Yes, this was the worst day of
my life. I lost my freedom. However, it
resulted in the best day of my life because
I gained that hope and promise of eternal
freedom in Heaven
Returning to that last mission I flew to the
Doumer Bridge, it had a very sad and costly
down side that far outweighed the results of
the mission, my disgust with my own results
or any other aspect. That was, the loss of
a very courageous young Captain, Bob Elliot,
who sacrificed his life in the conduct of
the mission while protecting us from
attacking missiles. Bob was a fine young
man and talented pianist and gave us real
treats by playing for us, especially his
favorite, classical music. Bob was
distressed when he told me that he had
received a “Dear John” from his wife, which
made the event of his downing all the more
disturbing for me.
 |
I’ve kept this picture on my office wall for years, in memory of Bob and the others who gave up life
for duty, honor and comrades. |
No one saw Bob go down when hit by one of
the SAMs he was attacking with his Wild
Weasel flight, since he was the outside
wingman in a turn. But, when the 70mm films
were processed, one of the aircraft turning
away from him just happened to catch the
disaster on it’s belly-mounted strike
camera, when the Weasel crew launched its
own anti-radar missile. The moving prism of
the camera was in position to record the
weapons on it’s multiple ejection rack (MER)
as well as the scene frozen in time by the
smoke trails. The SAM had exploded in a
puff of smoke with an upward trail the
absolute clue while the lethal damage to
Bob’s aircraft was self-evident from its
blazing tail of fire. Bob Elliot joined
that terrible Missing in Action
category.
More recently, I display it with a newspaper
clipping sent me by
our friend Don Hodge, dated December 28,
1999, which read as follows:
Monty Pharmer pointed out to me that this
mission was the first Strike Force flight
for him and his roommate Gary Durkee and
they were both pretty up tight on the drive
to the flight line after briefings. Monty
wrote,“I
remember that Bob Elliot, Gary and I had
ridden out to our airplanes together and he
was telling Gary and me “Not to worry, since
he knew it was our first go at Pack VI.”
It seems to me that those who met such fates
in WW II, and to some extent even Korea,
rested in far greater peace than those souls
of this ignominious war, who were forgotten
by many, even before the bugles blew for
them. Their honor was finally recognized
with the Wall of Remembrance as tribute to
the fallen of Vietnam. It will be a grand
day when all the United States Air Force is
honored by a memorial to all fallen heroes.
The Air Force remains the only of four major
services without a War Memorial in our
nation’s capitol, but an organization, Air
Force Memorial Foundation, is working hard
to change that. The Congress has finally
approved a site, but if that is to be
achieved it will be by public commitment,
which is proceeding well and the information
and opportunity to assist is presented on
their website.