Good Morning Vietnam!
I’ve solicited inputs from Spence Armstrong
because he knew our job so well and kept a
succinct flight journal of our tour. I did
not solicit them on the following subject
and had not planned to relate it, because I
never could figure whether it was real or
some kind of a weird game, by a somewhat
strange wing commander.
“Later Bob Smith came to me
saying that the Air Force was once again
concerned that the Navy was getting Pack VI
missions with their A-6’s when the weather
was too bad for us to dive bomb. So the
bright minds in the Pentagon decided that
the ground mapping radar of the F-105 made
it an ideal solution to this humiliation.
Sound familiar? This idea was transmitted
down the line, through Saigon to Korat and
wound up as a 34th mission to
plan. The target was the Hanoi Radio
Station. All we were told was that we were
to attack it with a two-ship flight with
high-drag bombs. The aircraft were to
proceed up the land route and fly eastward
until their radar picked up the Red River.
Then they would descend through the clouds
and fly up the river under the low cloud
deck and bomb the station, which would be
easy to see from that altitude because of
the antennae.
Bob asked me to come down to the
command post and explained all of this to
me. It sure looked like a dumb idea to me!
First of all we weren’t that proficient in
the use of the radar and not too sure that
it was properly calibrated since we almost
never used it. Secondly, there were
probably hazards across the river that
weren’t on our maps and we couldn’t see in
time at the speed we would be traveling.
Lastly, I was not aware that we had any of
these high drag bombs. Explanation: If you
dropped a regular (slick) bomb from low
level flight, the bomb would fall at almost
the same forward speed as the aircraft that
released it. That meant that it would
explode just aft of the aircraft and the
explosion would likely down it. There was a
renowned Air Force film of an F-100 blowing
itself out of the air in such a situation.
The solution was to have a bomb that had
four petals, which acted like speed brakes
when it was released. I had never dropped
one.
Bob shortly explained that this
was a very tough and dangerous mission and
we couldn’t ask the other pilots to fly it,
so he and I must do it. Great! We then
spent some time doing the planning up to the
point that we were ready to fly it if
directed.
Fortunately for us, cooler minds
prevailed in Washington and this mission was
never directed—but at the same time, it was
never canceled.”
Spence’s memory was ‘generally’ correct,
even in detail for a Lt. General, retired,
who is used to colonels thinking for him. A
few years back, I perused Spence’s log and
it was cryptic, so I can make corrections
with impunity. Wing Commander Paul Douglas
pulled me aside and told me of the
classified plan to knock out the Radio, just
south of Hanoi, while the weather was
continuing too bad for our strike sorties.
He said 7th A.F. were looking for
a flight of four volunteers, recognizing
some higher risks. Please overlook Sam’s
number problem, it’s that way on arithmetic,
with boat school grads.
What intrigued me was pulling out that
constant thorn that we could never surprise
our enemy with the unusual, because they
knew when and where we would come to them,
twice daily, or so it often seemed. I told
Col. Douglas, “ The 34th wants
this flight, and I will lead it”, and that I
would discuss it with only with one officer
until it was certain. That was Spence. We
would not be able to hide the fact that a
flight was coming. The enemy would know
something was up and might prep some
defenses. However, they would not be able to
anticipate our target .... unless they had a
mole in the planning loop. With selective
weather, we could come in high above the
cloud layers and hopefully sight and evade
SAM attacks, however, penetrating the
overcast and low-level attack would be the
most vulnerable segments, first for SAMs
then AAA.
Our aircraft radars were not effective so we
would have to come down prematurely and stay
right on the deck long enough to visually
identify and get in a line for attack on the
station. With high-drag 500 pound bombs we
could drop them from very low altitude in
tight formation, because of the drag brakes
on each bomb. I figured we could go in
spread, high over the clouds, then leave
altitude in a steep dive to reduce exposure
time, but would have to go real shallow
while in the clouds before popping out in
tight formation, just above the ground. The
good news was the flatness of the entire Red
River delta, but that was also bad news with
no mountain clutter. And I presumed
headquarters would agree to wait until the
cloud cover was not too thick, so our blind
dive would be brief and very fast, and
reduce SAM danger. The target wasn’t going
anywhere and this volunteer wasn’t either
without such a concession. The outcome
would be only a shut-down of their radio,
until repaired, a psychological victory at
best. But if we succeeded, those damned
defenders would no longer be on holiday
whenever the weather was bad! I took Spence
aside and told him about this and that we
already had two volunteers, thee and me!
When it was a go, we would find our two
wingmen, and fly a local practice mission.
As for Spence’s observation “cooler minds”
prevailing, I am still trying to explain to
him that the warmer brain carries the most
blood through it, because it has more
neurons functioning. The part I really got
right was picking him, because if it went, I
know he would not have missed it for the
world.
The last couple of months of my tour I was
down to 10 missions a month and strike
forces were few. I even found time to start
playing a bit of squash with one of the
kindest and most unassuming, yet notable men
I’ve ever known. Our recently assigned,
Deputy for Operations, was none other than
one of the most famous football players of
his time, an All American. He was the full
back of the famous backfield duo of West
Point, Colonel “Doc” Blanchard. For a man
of his size and strength, he was
exceptionally quick and coordinated. For a
man of his reputation he was extraordinarily
common, courteous and kind.
I received the following from Monty Pharmer,
recently, also without solicitation, and
only then realized that I had gone so far as
to complete the volunteer process on that
mission that never happened, but it showed
the kind of men I was privileged to serve
with:
“He was our squadron commander
and was constantly trying to find out whom
he could depend on to get the job done in a
bad situation. He would tell us that there
was a dangerous mission coming up and he
would need volunteers and asked us to
indicate if we would volunteer. Most were
up to our ears in everyday stuff without
taking on any additional hazards but one day
in the latter part of February, he put us
through the test again. He said he was
short of volunteers so Gary Durkee and I
volunteered just mainly to get one more
mission out of the way. But the mission
never took place.”
I hope Monty reads this and discovers just
how lucky he was that particular mission
never panned out, or we might all have been
NVN residents. That would have been one hell
of a way to sneak an extra “counter” to
hurry home! Oh how I wish that Gary, a West
Point graduate, could also read it, but he
passed away from cancer in October 1993
after retiring from the Air Force. Sadly, I
find out at this late date that Gary and I
lived concurrently in the same small town,
Slidell Louisiana, without knowing that,
when I was there 13 years on the Space
Shuttle External Tank program.
I celebrated the 100th with
Spence Armstrong and Don Hodge, when they
completed their tour. I especially wanted it
with those two, since we flew in together
and it would be nice to go out the same.
The only unsatisfactory part of that
mission, but what makes it indelible, was
that our Wing Commander, Col. Paul Douglas
insisted on flying the mission, a real milk
run, and celebrating with us. I probably
would have declined on principal, if I had
seen the Officer Effectiveness Rating that
he endorsed, written by our Deputy for
Operations, covering my tour of duty.
Heroes & Sacrifices
President Lyndon Johnson came to Korat,
after his announcement that he would not
seek reelection. All of us, 388th
combat pilots, were directed to meet with
him in our Officers Club. That was the only
time the wing ever stood-down from strike
missions, except for weather and occasional
political hiatus. We dutifully held our
peace, therefore not always candidly
answered his questions, which was the
greatest show of discipline I’ve ever seen.
He seemed such a pathetic old man, at that
point I almost felt sorry for him. That may
have been one time in his life that he
wanted to salve his conscience, if he ever
had one. But down deep, I despise him and
those other leaders associated with the
political structure in its entirety that
sacrificed so many to death and us all to
defeat, when there was never a plan or
intent for a victory. And for all the years
that deceit ruled the scene to knowingly
hide the facts.
The only positive aspect of Vietnam was we
realized that the American way, to support
our leaders in war or national crisis, has a
limit when the process proves to be adverse
to the good of our nation. We, as a
majority are oftentimes silent, but get very
noisy given bad leadership for too long, and
that noise often begins with the radical
left, which I and many others disagree
greatly with, but which serve a very
important and necessary function in our
democracy, one that is vital.
It was real to me because during
my brief tour, 54 Thuds were downed in
combat, exclusive of operational losses.
Thanks to those outstandingly brave rescue
folks, 12 crewmen were retrieved. There
were 23 taken prisoner, four of whom never
made it home, dying in captivity. And 11
were lost, Missing in Action, at least one
of whom, our mate Bob Elliot’s remains were
found in NVN a few years ago. None of them
ever returned home, a small fraction of
those lost in that manner in Korea, but the
hardest losses of all for loved ones.
 |
Recognition for Maj. Detlefsen and the Thud
The Medal of Honor |
Major Merlyn Detlefsen is the sole Thud
pilot to receive the Congressional Medal of
Honor and he honors all of the rest of us
who had the privilege of serving our country
in that way, especially our lost kind.
Losses during our period were just a small
part of the whole. For the full year of
1966 114 went down and 109 in 1967, the two
worst years for Thud crews. Over the course
of the war 352 crewmen and a few more went
down, not counting operational losses due to
weather and accidents. Magnify this by all
of the other tactical airplanes and their
crews lost, and those in support of them.
And let’s not forget the Navy was suffering
losses, likewise, and the bombers and
crewmen, including B-52s were later added to
the mix.
The Prisoners of War who survived were
fortunate, but at a great cost in pain and
suffering and impact on their personal
lives. Most sacrificial were the 23 Thud
crewmen, and others like them, who suffered
both POW and death, never to return to home.
Those in the 34th, during my tour, who
became POWs were: Dwight Sullivan; Donald
Odell and Tony Andrews, who went
down on that early strike mission. They
were followed in order by: Ray Vissotzky,
Carl Lasiter; Bob Elliot; Jim Metz and
Roger Ingvalson.
And we had our shared leaders who flew with
us on occasion; Colonels Ed Burdette,
John Flynn and Jim Bean, the
latter two repatriated and Ed Burdette a
victim of the prison camps.
Carl Light was shot down and rescued
by a helicopter crew, only to die with his
rescuers when their chopper was shot down
extracting him.
Sam Bass and Billy Givens also
lost their lives in operational accidents
related to combat missions.
And Jim Metz, a super guy, quiet and
unassuming, destined to be a leader, never
returned from his known P.O.W. status. He
was shot down only one week before we left
for home. I consider Jim, like Col. Burnett
who faced that fate, to be among the 23 most
unfortunate of all to endure P.O.W. status
and not live to get home.
Carl Lassiter, one of the best
natural pilots I have flown with, endured
incarceration in Hanoi and returned with the
others, with honor but without the
appreciation due them, for their sacrifice,
because of public attitude toward the war
spilled over to those who only served with
honor.
Seymour Bass came to us without a
fighter background, which placed him in a
very unenviable position, like many others,
without the necessary experience to perform
safely in fighters, during combat
operations. Jim Marshall, a retired M/G who
had flown the AC-45 gunships in SVN, spotted
“Sam” in a picture of the 34th on
my wall at home. He has very fond memories
of Sam in one of his own prior assignments
as one of the nicest and gentlest men he
ever served with, an opinion I share from my
brief time with him.
Bill Thomas was a young, handsome and
unassuming tiger, who just didn’t get enough
excitement in 100 missions in the F-105, so
he flew another 100 … all in the Thud! He
never took the easy way. I was especially
proud to receive a very nice letter of
thanks from him, while I finished the last
year of my career in the Pentagon. But bad
luck can find good people and Bill perished
in an F-105 accident, after his combat was
completed.
I don’t know how many of us have passed on
but one, a fine combat pilot and great guy
was Gary Durkee, whose letter of
thanks to me after I had left and retired
from the Air Force was so kind and
thoughtful, it’s a treasure. Word of his
passing from cancer, years after retirement,
was traumatic, as with Rod Giffin.
Rod was a fine Strike Commander, one of
those “old heads” who knew his way around
Hanoi, and showed me the ropes.
As icing on the cake for ground attack guys,
who do enough in that role alone, Lt.
Carl Richter and Maj. Ken Blank
each downed a Mig and Lt. Dave Waldrop,
whom I enjoyed flying with and who could
always be counted on in our primary role as
dive-bombers, downed two MiGs in the good
old fashioned way of the real Aces, with
their guns!
I am honored to have served with Bill
Diehl and Bill Grubb while
training with them in our class at Wichita,
two fine and gentle men who gave their lives
in performance of their duties with the 355th
Wing at Takhli. Both displayed the courage
to prevail in their accomplishment in spite
of not having the flying background to make
it the easy way like some of us were blessed
to have. Bill Grubb was a young B-52
copilot, in my 105 training class, who put
on an acrobatics demonstration by ‘porpoise
tailing’ his Thud while attached to his
first refueling cone in training. His
reactions were so quick and he refused to
quit and unbelievably he successfully
completed the hook-up.
I want to honor my comrade from another war,
Ace Jim Kasler, who spent a very long
time as a POW and returned home. Jim was a
roommate and a very courageous fighter Ace
from Korea, who was shot down in Feb 1966.
Were it not for the mental ravages of time
and the limitations of space, this monologue
for heroes could go on and on. For all
those who flew combat to the “North” an
association named “The Red River Rats” was
formed and continues to the present.