Issue 19 Summer 2012

The Intake Journal of the Super Sabre Society

Published Thrice a Year: March, July and November

— Hun Fine Art Collection —

Harry Brown’s “One-Oh-Wonder” by C. S. Bailey (Credits, page 2, story page 30) F-100D (56-3101) at Phan Rang AB, circa 1971.

The Intake Summer 2012, Vol. 1, Issue 19 JOURNAL OF THE SUPER SABRE SOCIETY 3 Staff Corner, President’s Column 4 Incoming/Outgoing

Correspondence 7 Stake Your Claim By Ed “Hawk” Wells 8 Hun History in Cloth, Part IV By Randy Troutman 10 “COLD WARRIOR” — Chapter

12, Mystique, by Alan “Lad” Duaine

16 More Hun Driver High Jinks Fun with hats. 17 Book Review Time — “On Heroic

Wings,” Distinguished Flying Cross Society Publication: Neat!

18 The Way We Were Popular department continues. 20 “WHISKY BILL” DOUGLASS

— Misty 02, The Story of a Fighter Pilot

By Jack Doub

25 Reflections on Wheelus…and Saving It…One Week in 1967!

By Hal Hermes 26 LIVING ON BORROWED

TIME: Near Fatal Encounter with “The Hunter,” Fate!

By Ed Haerter 27 Super Sabre Snapshots…and

Other Important Imagery 28 “Throw a Nickle on the Grass,

Save a Fighter Pilot’s Ass.” — The Movie! By Jim Quick

30 My “One-Oh-Wonder” —

Honoring a Hun Workhorse By Harry Brown 32 BEYOND COINCIDENCE: The

Making of a Back Cover for The Intake, By John J. Schulz

35 Laughter-Silvered Wings &

More: SSS Contacts, Back Cover Credits,

Closing Remarks

B

The Intake is published three times per year by the Super Sabre Society Inc., d.b.a. Super Sabre Society, P.O. Box 341837, Lakeway, TX 78734. (Dues should be sent to this address!) The society is open to all F-100 Fighter Pilots, F-100 Wild Weasel Bears and F-100 Squadron Flight Surgeons. Associate memberships will be offered at the discretion of the Membership Committee. There is no political agenda, although we support and respect the office of the President of the United States. There is no religious agenda, although men who trusted their lives to a slatted wing and a single J57 engine also trust in a higher authority. There is no social agenda, except to meet each other in mutual respect and admiration. We are the men who flew the mighty Hun! Visit our website frequently at www.supersabresociety.com.

2

Dues Status

If your DUES STATUS (printed on the envelope this came in) is “In Arrears,” our records show that as of July 10,

you had not paid for 2012: $25 payable on or before January 1 of each year. If you are still “In Arrears” here in mid-2012, please take care of that Member

responsibility ASAP!

The front cover Hun Fine Art is a 52”x44” oil on canvas painting commissioned and owned by SSS’r Harry Brown. The artist is C.S. Bailey who works out of Utah. The “battle scene” depicts Harry’s Hun (D-model 56-3101) and a wingman on a typical mission during Harry’s second SEA combat tour (at Phan Rang AB, RVN, ’70-’71). The art work is handsomely framed and hangs in Harry’s den at his home in Cave Creek, AZ. It was first submitted in October of 2008, so it’s high time to present it, and up front. See page 30 article for why the delay, and acquisition details of interest to fine art lovers.

If you’re not sure of your dues status, take action to find out! Contact:

CFO (David Hatten) at email, david@houseofhatten.com /

phone (512) 261-5071, or Editor (R. Medley Gatewood) at

rgatewood@comcast.net / phone (505) 293-8396.

Leadership President Bill Gorton Vice President Jack Van Loan Exec. Director Dewey Clawson CFO David Hatten Secretary Art Oken Counsel Ross Crossland SSS Store Sloan Brooks Membership Dewey Clawson Webmaster Ron Doughty

The Intake - Journal of the SSS Editor and Publisher

R. Medley Gatewood

Photo Editor Shaun Ryan Asst. Editors Dave Burke John J. Schulz Jim Quick Contributing Jack Doub Editors Jack Hartmann Bob Krone Wally Mason Ron Standerfer Ed Wells Hon. Photo Ed. Ann Thompson Graphic Designer Sara Gosselin Final Jim Kelm Proofreaders Crow Wilson

Insight, Opinions, Policy (SSS website is http://www.supersabersociety.com.)

From the President’s Desk

Officer Elections The positions of SSS Vice President and the new position of Director-at-Large are to be filled this year. The lucky winners will serve four-year terms starting on 1 Jan 2013. Check page 34 in this issue of The Intake to get the details on the nomination process and the election schedule.

New SSS Officer Position In order to better coordinate our numerous efforts to preserve the history of the F-100 and those who flew the Hun, the Board has approved the establishment of the position of SSS Historian. This is an appointed position. The individual filling this is an officer of the SSS and reports to the SSS Executive Director. Jerry “Killer” Key has volunteered to take on the responsibilities. Please info him on any activities associated with preserving our history.

SSS Airfoil As reported in NOTAM #12, we need to fill up the panels on our SSS airfoil at the Smithsonian. I am pleased to report, as a result of the NOTAM, we had at least five more members ask how to sign up. Dewey and Medley are the points of contacts. As to how to sign up, please see Dewey’s column on this page. We need approximately 325 more names to fill out the panel.

And finally, as you know, the recent changes to our bylaws gave the SSS Executive Director the authority and responsibility to run the day-to-day operations of the SSS. While the Board still has an oversight responsibility, it is now primarily focused on policy matters. So, henceforth, there is no further need for a President’s column, Dewey will be keeping you up to speed on pertinent SSS activities with his column in this space, and Medley gets his editorial column back. I will, of course, continue to report on Board actions via NOTAMs. Cheers, — Bill

From the Executive Director As many members know, at the second reunion in 2009, the Board of Directors announced that the SSS had donated funds to the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum to reserve a four-panel airfoil at their Udvar-Hazy Center’s Wall of Honor exclusively for SSS members. In its present configuration, with one end-panel set aside for artwork and text that explains the Society and its purpose, and describes the Hun and its history, the remaining space will hold up to 756 names. Despite repeated urgings for members to register themselves and even sponsor deceased members, we have stalled out at only 426 names on our airfoil. The Board is wondering, why? It may be that since many of our members are also members of either or both the F-86 Sabre Pilots Association and the Distinguished Flying Cross Society, each of which also have airfoils reserved, there is no need for them to duplicate their names on our panel. Or there is the distinct possibility that many members think their names were inscribed automatically when we first reserved our airfoil. That was definitely NOT the case. The idea was that individual members would also donate (a minimum of $100) to the Smithsonian, therefore fully qualifying to have their names engraved on our organization’s reserved airfoil. In any case, we are starting another campaign to more completely fill our airfoil before the formal dedication of the Wall of Honor, scheduled for the summer of 2013. To that end, the Board is encouraging current members to reconsider and register themselves, and/or sponsor deceased past members. AND, the Board has opted to allow family or friends of former Hun drivers to sign them up as “posthumous” SSS members (no dues required) so that they can be sponsored by the kin or friend with a donation to the Smithsonian, and thus be qualified for their names to be inscribed on the SSS airfoil. To this end, we have created a Wall of Honor page on the SSS website and urge you to visit it and act, to help us fill the SSS airfoil (click on “Wall of Honor” link). You or your posterity will be glad you did! More info on this new campaign is on page 33. Thanks, — Dewey Clawson

Staff Corner

Jim Quick seat-tests the SSS Airfoil at Udvar-Hazy Center. In need of 325+ more names!

3

Emails, Letters, Phone Calls, Other Media

We are pleased to receive long, short, mostly great, and a few not-quite-so-great correspondence items via various media sources. Member/reader feedback continues to be very positive. Here are some incoming samples and outgoing replies since the last issue. We also include some items in need of discussion that aren’t directly related to the last issue. Ed.

General Comments on Issue 18 As we saw the pieces of Issue 18 coming together, beginning with obtaining permission from Osprey Publishing Ltd. to use the Gareth Hector digital artwork of “Kilgus’ Kill” which he originally created for the Peter Davies-David Menard book, we knew we were going to have a super spring issue this year. It is so nice to have a portrait-oriented picture for a front cover, but they are oh-so-hard-to-come-by! And by the time we were finalizing our line-up of articles, each member of the core staff had a feeling that we had a superb issue in the works. We were righ. Positive feedback was overwhelming in both quantity and quality, with a surprising variety of superlatives applauding the “best yet” track record we’ve been marveling over since I-1. Based on comments, and a scarcity of portrait imagery to equal this front cover that surely contributed much to the ratings, we may have attained the high water mark. Let’s hope that’s not so, but it feels pretty good for our journal to be at this level, and it would be nice to stay at this level…for the duration! Here are some selected comments.

Incoming/Outgoing – Correspondence

Original Artwork

► “I don't know what the process is to pass on compliments, but this cover photo and the stories behind it are awesome. Thanks for the hard work,”— Allan “Elliott" Ness [A new SSS member] ►“Just received my copy of #18 and all I can say is: Wow!! Beautiful, beautiful cover...a classic! Schulzie’s piece on Clyde’s infamous day was so fitting…where’d you get the old tennis photo? Brings back memories of many, many days of great…improvised fun…in a war zone, no less.” — Jack Doub ► “Just received issue number 18 of the world famous journal—The Intake! It has the same precise characteristics as the previous issues and was evidently created by the same consummate professional staff that is involved in the production of such a perfect, accomplished, adept, masterful, highest degree, an Ace in a deck of cards, document. So we all thank the whole staff for each issue and for setting the bar so high for the next editor and staff. Best regards,” — Homer Whitlow ► “Received Issue #18 in Central Arizona yesterday; stellar as always. Good work, all. Outstanding picture on back cover.” — Mel Elliott ► This hand written note from Janice Barnett is the first written feedback we’ve seen from a “Friends of the Super Sabre” (FSS) member who is not also a SSS member. Janice is an avid, self described FSS Volunteer doing some good work for all of us. “…I think this was the best issue yet of The Intake, at least since I have been a [FSS] subscriber. The cover photos were fantastic. Even though the issue ended with a cute story, which I think was a great idea, for the first time since I've been reading The Intake, I felt very melancholy when I finished it. I was just haunted by the MiG story and Mr. Schulz's story and poem. [They] made me all the more determined to do what I can (which isn't that much) to help with the museum project so everyone will have a better understanding of our heroic military. I know it's a lot of work, but like my heroes, Bob and Pam Dunham, [The Intake is] doing such an important job.” — Janice B. ► “The Intake showed up today—things take a while to reach the Old Country [England]—and I'm impressed with the whole issue. There's plenty to enjoy there and I hope the Kilgus material stirs a few more memories. Thanks for putting it all together so well and producing yet another valuable historical record. Best wishes,” — Peter Davies

Specific Comments on Issue 18 Articles ► Front Cover “Dear Medley, – I suppose I’ve been noted most of my life as a nit-picker, but it looks to me as if the artist who did the painting for the cover of F-100 Super Sabre Units of the Vietnam War was unaware that when the J57 is in afterburner, the eyelids are open. Those eyelids look closed to me. Great issue, AGAIN! Best,” — Art Cornelius Art is absolutely correct. Here’s my reply to him: “Good eyes, Art. I was sorta wondering about that, too. But, I probably didn’t really notice it till I got my first printed copy in my hand, and that was WAY too late to worry about it. The artist was working with Peter Davies and David Menard, both very savvy Hun technical experts, but neither were Hun drivers. If you look at their book’s cover artwork, for which we received permission to use the same "digital painting" artwork, you'll see the tanks are still on. That was a decision the authors themselves made when "coaching the artist" what to do. But when we started work on the Kilgus story, we had evidence (from the Kilgus interview) that the

4

tanks were long gone by the time he would be in the firing position shown, and we got permission to remove them for our cover, so we got that right on our modified version of the original artwork. But, back to the afterburner issue. The artist’s original artwork that Peter and David reviewed for their book initially had the burner off. In this case Peter and Dave agreed the burner should be ON, and instructed the artist to change it to show the burner on. That he did, but he didn’t make the connection to redo the eyelids, and nobody in the review cycle after that caught the mistake. It was a typical coordination SNAFU that we all regret. But we’ll fix it, if and when we use this otherwise wonderful artwork again. [Like a portrait sized blow-up for display in the FSS F-100 Super Sabre Museum, someday.] Thanks for the email. ► Clyde Carter Story This from Al DeGroote to author and fellow Diceman John Schulz: “John, – Just got my ‘Intake’ and read your article about Clyde. Excellent and beautifully written as usual. Thanks,” — Al To answer Jack Doub’s question about where we got “the old tennis picture” on page 29, it was passed on to us by, you guessed it, Al DeGroote. Al is in the picture of the 90th TFS’s Vietnamese Sports Car, hanging on the running board. ► “Spirit of Saint Louis II” Dave Menard weighed in by email, lamenting that he wished he’d known we were doing this story because he has photos from almost every assignment of the bird till it ended up at the USAFA. He sent along several, one of which is a real gem, a thumbnail which we show here. We will save the larger file for future use. It shows 56-3730 during its service at the Springfield ANG base east of Dayton in May 1977, with Ed Mechenbier’s name on it, and alongside is a flying replica of the real Ryan “Spirit of Saint Louis.” This replica was built by EAA in 1977 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Lindbergh’s flight across the Atlantic Ocean and subsequent tour of the United States. Between 1977 and 1988, that aircraft accumulated more than 1,300 hours of flight time. In 1987, the replica was shipped to France and flew into Le Bourget Airport in Paris to commemorate the 60th anniversary of Lindbergh’s 33-hour flight across the Atlantic. The first “Spirit” replica was retired to the EAA AirVenture Museum in Oshkosh in November 1988, as the centerpiece of the museum’s Lindbergh exhibit. [EAA = Experimental Aircraft Association.]

Two Spirits

As usual, Dave found a mistake in the text of our story. He said, “FYI, there never was any ‘4440th Air Defense Group’ at Langley, it was the 4440th Aircraft Delivery Group that ferried USAF a/c all over the place. You are not the first to step into this trap on the mission of the ‘4440th ADG,’ by the way.” Sorry ‘bout that. I found the bird was briefly assigned to the “4440th ADG” on Henk Scharringa’s Serials website, and I was sucked into the Air Defense Group translation of the acronym by shear ignorance. Live and learn. Thanks, Dave! ► Willy Hun & Trio of Pilots Snapshot “The photo on the left side of page 32 showing three guys in partial pressure suits in front of an F-100C was made at Williams AFB shortly after the first Super Sabres arrived. The pilots pictured are Captain Frank Meyer standing and pointing; I (1st Lt. John Lowery) am the guy on the left, and 1st Lt. John Gearhart is on the right with hard hat on his left knee. It was a photo made strictly for Public Affairs purposes. The photographer was a sergeant from base HQ and he later published the picture post cards for sale in the BX. Frank was the Base Maintenance Quality Control (QC) Officer and head of Flight Test. John Gearhart and I were QC test pilots from the maintenance operation.” — John Lowery I thanked SSS’r John L. for some of the details about this curious photo, and then got in touch with John Gearhart, who is also an SSS’r. He confirmed what John L. said and offered some more details and a fitting wrap-up to the story behind this one-of-a-kind piece of Hun History. Here’s a synopsis of his story. John G. was assigned to Williams AFB in 1956 when it was ATC’s 3525th CCTW (FTR). He was a Flight Test Maintenance Officer with the 3525th Maintenance & Support Group. In July 1958, the base came under TAC as the 4530th CCTW (TAC FTR) equipped with F-100s. Shortly before June 1959, when John L. PCS’d away, the Flight Test pilots were notified to get qualified in the use of the partial pressure suits so they could do testing above 45,000, if need be. The three of them took the suit familiarization training at the base Physiological Training Unit. The picture in question was taken for PR reasons right after that. Oddly enough, John G. doesn’t remember ever actually flying in the partial pressure suits. Go figure! John G. left Willy in Dec., 1960, bound for AFIT training and never looked back, except to fondly remember the good times he had there, particularly at the O’ Club, which was a jumping place in those days. [I can confirm that when I arrived as a UPT student in July, 1962, it was still a jumping place, Ed.] John G. reports he lives in a military retirement community now at Paradise Valley Estates in Fairfield, CA, near the old Travis AFB. He says they have a Community Club with a nice bar, and that it, too, is still jumping! They have around 80 pictures on the walls depicting events in which their residents participated. One is a montage of Air Force photos, and one of those is a copy of the Hun post-card photo that John G. donated to the project. Some time

5

ago, when John G. and his wife were away, John Lowery dropped by to check out the community. He happened to meet a neighbor of John G. who, when he discovered that Lowery knew Gearhart, showed him the Hun post-card. As they admired the photo, Lowery told the neighbor that he knew the photo well because, “That’s me, on the left.” They were both pleased. Thanks much for this elaboration, John Gearhart. Another proof positive of the “small world” notion! ► Weidkamp’s “How Low Can You Get” Snapshot Several rather lengthy responses arrived amplifying the story behind this OMG picture. “Stymie” Nichols was first. He and his wife, Joyce, were in Paris on leave at the time of the “incident.” “While at breakfast at the O’ Club, I picked up a copy of the Stars and Stripes and there on the front page was a picture of an F-100 going by a tank (different pic from the one in The Intake article). I looked closely at the picture and I could see the vertical tail had the three stripes of the 50th TFW. I told Joyce, ‘That is going to cause some problems for someone,’ and it really did, as Larry's write-up said. Back at Hahn, I found that the stars of the two-ship show were Frank Howard and Duke Johnston, also of the 10th, and that the shit had really hit the fan!” “Frank and Duke were in the hot seat and there was some fear that one or both might get grounded, as CINCUSAFE was on the warpath on this one. The Army troops didn't, at first, realize the perfect storm this had generated, and they clearly didn't want the pilots to get hammered. They thought this type of close air support was great, and when they were questioned, they back-tracked and said they weren't sure just how low the birds were (the sun was in their eyes!). As I remember, Frank was flight lead on this one, so he was in the investigators' gun sights. Duke was sweating this out, too, but Frank Howard was really feeling the pressure. I think he must have lost 10 pounds during the 2 to 3 weeks this investigation ground on. When the investigation was completed and no one was sanctioned, everyone in the 10th heaved a big sigh of relief, especially Frank and Duke. We had a big scrapbook in our lounge area where we collected all the pictures, comments, and written articles on the caper, and before the investigation was completed, that book was about an inch and a half thick. I don't know what happened to that book when the smoke cleared. Maybe Frank and Duke burned the damn thing?” But it would certainly document an interesting slice of Hun history, wouldn’t it? I replied to Stymie and there was a flurry of additional facts surrounding the incident from both him and Larry Weidkamp himself. Larry’s best guess on the location of the missing scrapbook is that it might be in Duke Johnston’s “man cave” where for sure, according to Sandie Branch, Duke has a copy of the infamous photo hanging in a place of honor. Lastly we had an input of a more “official” nature from Jack Beschta. Here’s his take on the flap. “Larry and I were attached to the 50th TFW at Hahn Air Base at the time of the ‘incident’ and I vividly remember the fall-out from that photo published in the Stars and Stripes. I remember the details because I was one of the officers selected by Colonel McBride [Wing Commander at the time] to conduct the investigation. The investigation team flew into Fulda in a DC-3 and began several days of questioning the involved pilots. I was also a friend of Duke’s (one of the pilots) and, while not being able to speak for all of the members of the investigating team, I felt myself torn between being part of a fair and impartial investigation team and knowing that I (and probably every other real fighter jock in the world) had performed such stunts countless times. To say that there was empathy between the investigating team and Duke would be an understatement! I, for one, wanted the investigation (Larry uses the word ‘inquisition’) to be completed as soon as possible, so we could all get back to doing what we did best—train for possible combat! Colonel McBride was in the unenviable position of following orders from his superiors, but while he never said it out loud, we all felt that his heart was with his pilots, and that he was conducting the investigation as much for HHQ political reasons, as any.” “Not long after the incident was closed, I found myself on a tactical support mission in the ADIZ and experienced one of my biggest flight thrills ever! We were simulating ground support in an area that included miles and miles of pool-table-flat terrain. On my last pass I was at full throttle and low enough to see an American GI jump off a hay stack as I approached. He was at eye level with me! I don't know what my exact altitude was, but I'm absolutely certain that it was under 200 feet!” Right On, Jack. “There, but for the grace of God”…go most of us! Break, break! We tried to get in contact with Duke Johnston for a couple of weeks with no results. Finally, I got a reply to my voice-messages left on his phone. Turned out he and Annette had been on an extended vacation, but both remember “the incident” very clearly, now somewhat humorously in hindsight and the passing of much time. They DO have the scrapbook, but are having a hard time sorting through a lifetime accumulation of “stuff” to successfully find it. Since we’re running out of space here, and Issue 19 is just about full, we struck a deal. When they find the scrapbook, they will prepare a “rest of the story” addendum to Larry’s original account and the extensions we’ve reported here. Only after the Johnston’s report sees the light of day will anyone really know the full story, “… and it’s high time everyone does,” says Duke. We anxiously await that report and will save room for it in this fall’s Issue 20. Gasp! Issue TWENTY?

Th-th-th-that’s all folks! Incoming comments on Issue 18 were so many that we will have to continue them in Issue 20 in the fall. Sorry about that, but we just can’t spare any more space here or elsewhere. We have replied to all, but some need to be shared, later. Ed.

6

And the Beat Beats On

By Ed “Hawk” Wells [Contacts: maka@comcast.net, (615) 419-4308] Claim Challenges — As an advisor to the Tucson ANG deployed to Nellis for ACM refresher, Al Bartels was airborne and trolling for “MiG's” from the F-5 Aggressor Squadron. Moseying along at .82 Mach and 25,000 feet and scanning for those tiny aircraft, he spotted a flight coming head-on but well below him. They were at about 10,000 feet, so he lit the burner (F-102 mod) and split-S’d to engage them from behind. His attention was focused on keeping them in sight, and when heading straight down, he glanced at his airspeed indicator. It read Mach 1.7. He came out of burner, eased out the speed brakes and continued the recovery to position himself behind the enemy. His Hun had held together to this point so he finished the task at hand, using his closure rate to get in position and take some good gun camera film of the MiG flight. He disengaged and returned to Nellis to write the report of his little “error.” Thus, accidentally, Al supplants Bill Gorton as the title holder for Fastest Mach in the Hun = 1.7 M. New Claims — ► Bob Thorpe, a 2nd Lt. flying with the 434th FDS (the first operational Hun squadron) at George AFB, checked out in the F-100 on May 3rd, 1955. By happenstance, Bob claims and is validated as The first “Brown Bar” to check out in the F-100 = May 3, 1955. [Clarification: With only one or two exceptions early in SYC Department development, SYC claims are for what SSS members have done in or with a Hun. In this instance, as Wally Mason documented in his three-part series “The Golden Years,” Issue Two, the first 2nd Lt. was actually Bobbie Bagshaw, a non-SSS’r. Wally further mentions that, yes, SSS’r Bob Thorpe followed Bobbie by 30 minutes. So keep this SYC rule in mind when considering if you have a valid SYC claim or not. RMG Ed.] ► Ken McDaniel tells us he qualified as an F-100 RTU IP at Cannon when he had only 206 hours in the Hun. For that claim we can award the SYC title of Lowest type time for Hun CCT/RTU IP qualification = 206. We suspect that non-“schoolhouse” Hun drivers made IP qualification with much less time. Hint, hint. ► On April 2, 1968, Ken Peterson ejected from his stricken Hun northwest of Can Douc, RVN, when he was 23 years, 10 months, and 13 days old. Until we get a challenge, Ken now holds the SYC title of Youngest pilot to eject from an F-100 = 23y, 10m, 13d. ► Ron Bigoness’ story of ejection and rescue has been told in detail in a much earlier copy of The Intake, Issue Two to be exact. For some reason, his amazing story was never submitted as a SYC. To correct that oversight, Ron is awarded the following SYC title: First Hun pilot to be successfully rescued in SEA = March 31, 1965. [Thanks to Jay Strayer!] ► A NOTAM that didn’t get published nearly caused an air disaster in the U.K. Here’s an SYC and the rest of the story: Ron Green requests that he and Dave Bockelman be awarded the SYC title of First to fly a Hun through the UK Gliding Championship = 1968. Ron was giving Dave a Theater Tac Check-ride flying out of RAF Lakenheath in an F-model. As they came off the low-level target, Ron, in the front seat, saw a fleet of #$@^*# gliders and tow planes dead ahead from 10:30 to 1:30. What to do? He plugged in the burner, dodging and weaving through multiple bogies below, over, in front of and behind, including one who had seen them coming and had cut his tow. Ron and Dave safely passed the poor bugger and could clearly see the guy’s wide eyes and horror stricken face. As it turned out, the RAF had neglected to transmit the NOTAM advertising the airspace restriction, so the violation they anticipated was File 13’d and the incident was quietly buried. A hairy, scary tale earning the requested SYC titles. Amen.

Stake Your Claim (SYC)

Imagine a sky full of these buggers! Wikimdia Commons, author TSRL.

► Harry Brown claims that he and non-SSS’r wingman Al Struthers Flew the Last official Hun combat mission in Laos, with four truck kills yet. It happened on 25 June 1971, the last day of combat flying for the 35th TFW at Phan Rang AB. Their fragged target was in-country, but they were diverted into Laos by a TACC controller for “movers.” “Music to my ears,” Harry replied. They racked up BDA of four trucks destroyed and got home in time to witness the landing of the last combat F-100 sortie in SEA. We accept this as a valid claim for Harry. And we’ll publish the full story of that last Hun combat sortie landing in the next issue, if Harry will write it. It’s a doozy! Thus ends this installment of the SYC Department. As usual, the SYC Scoreboard has been updated on our website (www.supersabresociety.com), and can be reviewed at your leisure. Please do that, and let your mind wander as you wonder about possible new claims or challenges for yourself. Game on? And where’s ol’Al Struthers? Let’s get him signed up as an SSS’r! ◘

7

By Randy Troutman (Contacts: drtroutman@cox.net, phone 804-695-0173 in VA.)

As foretold by the Editor in Issue 15 of The Intake, this department will now start looking at the operational units that flew the F-100, their history, and associated insignia. It’s appropriate that we start with the first operational Hun unit, the 479th Fighter Day Wing. The 479th FDW converted from the F-86F to the F-100A at George Air Force Base, California, in 1954. Eventually, F-100Cs replaced the A models. The wing originally consisted of three squadrons, the 434th, 435th and 436th Fighter Day Squadrons. A fourth unit, the 476th FDS, was added in October of 1957 when many TAC wings were expanded to four squadrons. The 413th Fighter Day Group was also attached, flying F-86H aircraft. When the 413th FDG converted to F-100s in 1957, it was elevated to wing status and no longer reported to the 479th FDW. The wing was redesignated the 479th Tactical Fighter Wing in July of 1958, and the subordinate fighter units became Tactical Fighter Squadrons. The 479th TFW began conversion to the F-104C/D Starfighter in October 1958, and finished the transition by mid-1959, ending the 479th Wing’s association with the F-100. The following full colonels were assigned as Wing Commanders during the F-100 era: Robert Delashaw 1953-1955, Irwin Dregne 1955-1957, George Laven Jr. 1957 (& 1958-1959), William Harris 1957-1958, Darrell Cramer 1958, Paul Adams 1959, and George Ruddell 1959. As usual, this Hun History in Cloth article is a brief overview based on the information available. If you have any further information relating to the origins and use of any of the insignia contained in this article, or have something I have not pictured, please contact me. I need your firsthand knowledge to ensure the most concise and accurate history is retained before that knowledge is lost forever. These are more than bits of cloth, they are pieces of history! Herewith, then, are the principal unit patches of the 479th and a couple of photos bearing on patch wear in the operational units.

~~/Hun Heraldry Gallery/~~ 479th Wing patches (2): Two variations of the 479th FDW “Protectors of Liberty” patch. The cut out version seems to be the one most often worn. The one in the white disc may have been worn for a special occasion, such as a competition. Anybody know for sure? These are larger patches, with the disc version measuring almost 5 ½ inches. The large patches were typically made to be worn on the chest, prior to mandatory wear of the TAC patch. As with many patches from this era, these are handmade in Japan. Additionally, like most of the patches shown here, these have been used on uniforms. It’s always nicer to show ones that have “been there” and have some real history in them!

434th FDS and TFS (2): The twin devils patch was approved for use in 1944, possibly alluding to the P-38 aircraft they flew. The Germans called the P-38 “Der Gabelschwanz Teufel,” which translates to “the fork tailed devil.” These patches hold true to the WW II design, and there are only slight differences in details besides their designations. Again, both are handmade in Japan. This design, as with all unit insignia in the 479th FDW, was carried on the sides of the F-100s assigned to each squadron.

435th FDS and TFS (2): The black eagle design was approved in 1945. The 435th FDS patch most closely approximates the original design. By the time it was redesignated a TFS in 1958, several details had been altered or added to the basic design. Some colors, like the blue background and the machine gun, have also been changed. Eventually, after many years, the patch was returned to its original design and colors by the late ‘70s. Also notice that many early designs were just the basic insignia. Eventually tabs with unit designations were added to most patches Air Force wide.

Hun History in Cloth, Part IV

8

436th FDS and TFS (2): The 436th insignia was not approved until 1954. Its motto, “Semper Primus,” is Latin for “First Always.” As with the 435th, you can see the changes already taking place in color and detail. This continued for years, to the point where somehow the 436th TFS ended up with a red background replacing the blue (those F-4 guys…). Eventually the rules were enforced and the patch returned to its officially approved design by the late ‘70s. The 436th FDS patch shown here has seen some heavy usage, and could really tell a story if it could speak!

476th FDS and TFS (1): The 476th FDS was activated in October of 1957. It flew the F-100 for a little less than a year, becoming the first TAC unit to be equipped with the F-104C Starfighter in September of 1958. Unlike the wing’s three original squadrons, the 476th had no prior official history. It was a totally new unit activation made to provide the 479th FDW with a fourth operational squadron. The design approval coincided with the unit’s activation, and was probably designed by one of the squadron’s members. Does anyone remember the details? So much for the 479th Wing operational unit patches themselves. Here are a couple of examples of how photos can help a Hun History in Cloth sleuth learn, confirm and accurately describe additional historical info about the wearing of Hun Heraldry bits and pieces of cloth. The 434th FDS patch is displayed on the jacket of SSS member Lt. Frank Hadl, Jr., circa 1957. The upper right chest area was the preferred place for squadron insignia prior to 1963, when TAC required the TAC patch would be mandatory and worn there instead. That mandate left only the upper left chest or the shoulders for unit patch display, and many patches had to be made in a smaller size to accommodate the new regulations. Also of note is the lieutenant’s serious “Steely-Eyed Defender of Democracy” look!

Several pilots standing in front of this F-100C in 1958 display the 479th FDW patch on the upper left chest area. The man in the center is also wearing a 436th FDS insignia on his right chest. This arrangement was typical in many units. The shoulder areas were used to display mission aircraft, flight examiner, and various qualification patches, among many others. Air Force-wide standardized placement of unit insignia did not occur until the early 1970s. ◘ Randy gave a good rundown on this first TAC operational Hun unit regarding its history and heraldry, but where should we go now with this series of Hun History in Cloth? By mutual agreement, we’ve decided to move on to the first overseas Hun units. That would be the 36th FDW/TFW in USAFE. We’ve already had a partial look at the first PACAF Hun unit, the 8th FDW/TFW, so we’ll pick another PACAF Hun unit after the USAFE visit. Ed.

9

Mystique (def.) An aura of mystery, power, and awe that surrounds a person or thing (as in the fighter pilot).

By Alan “Lad” Duaine

“COLD WARRIOR” — Chapter 12, Mystique

ay back in 2006, when we were first gathering interesting stories and moving toward 36 pages as the standard length

Warrior

The previous chapter (11) is about Lad’s assignment to the Seymour Johnson AFB “Flying Club” where lots of fine

It was great having the F-105 patch on my flight

ot a slot to the

ut that. Nellis. The height of ambition

ethic. Godforsaken refuge

previously

the SA hool y a

Wfor The Intake, Alan sent us a copy of one of the chapters in a book he had written, but had not yet published, tentatively titled “Cold Warrior.” He sent Chapter 7, titled simply “F-100.” We fell in love with its story at first sight, and with his permission, ran it in Issue Three as a stand-alone article titled “The Morning My Real Life Began,” with a teaser that said, “Another Hun love affair begins.” It told of his first flight in a Hun; always a popular story to Hun drivers. And, because of enthusiastic reader feedback, we continued to publish selected articles extracted from Cold dealing with Lad’s Hun-related adventures; each getting rave reviews by readers. The string of consecutive articles concluded in Issue Eight with the second of two articles from Chapter 10. We had planned on publishing a final article from Chapter 12 in a later issue, after a break to make room for stories from our growing stable of contributing authors/members. However, by then, in early 2010, partly because of the success of the series and our encouragement, Lad had finally managed to get the whole book published. He gave me a signed copy on March 10, 2010, thanking me for “…early exposure to some of this, to encourage me to finish the job.” In turn, I promised to run that final Chapter 12 after another break to promote other authors. That promise is long overdue; so, herewith, the long-awaited Chapter 12. Lad says he thinks it’s one of his best chapters in respect to introspection and examination of what really matters in the making of truly great fighter pilots. We concur that it’s a truly great chapter, with a truly “grrreat” title! Enjoy, and please reread the book review in Issue 15. [fighter pilots found themselves trying to generate interest as they awaited the F-105B, the arrival of which had been delayed. And, after Lad’s checkout, the Thud flying was sporadic with everyone clamoring for their checkout and sparse time available for all needs. Hence, Lad’s leap for the gold ring of a FWS student slot and a short return to the Hun. Ed.] jacket, but there wasn't enough more to that to keep me occupied. When flying anything was practically all I lived for, waiting weeks at a time for another ride soon wore thin. One night at the club, I was talking to a ground-pounder lieutenant from Base Personnel. I asked him when we might get some more ferry pilot requisitions. I wanted out of North Carolina for a while. "I don't know," he said, "but I just gFighter Weapons School. Eleven weeks, starting 1 January” (1960). I thought abofor most Air Force fighter pilots during these years had always been to fly at Nellis, where the aura of the day fighter yet prevailed—the legacy of MiG-killing graduates from the Korean War. You could say all you wanted to about the greater variety of events entailed in the fighter-bomber mission, the technical expertise inherent in the all-weather air defense role, the solitary derring-do of the reconnaissance sprinters; it didn't matter. Nellis was It! You could even take the negative approach. You could sneer at the limited scope of the day fighter mission, the theoretical status of their instrument flying abilities, the emphasis on teamwork, the affinity for glitter and hyperbole. Hell, knock Vegas while you were at it—vacant hedonist antithesis of the upright Christian work

of scorpions and side-winders, Nellis was still It! The glamour of theLafayette Escadrille, the Zemke Wolfpack, and Sabres over the Yalu was palpable. The fighter pilot as a high-soaring bird of prey: keen-eyed and with implacable hunger—Master of the Skies. I have

In Riyadh during Ramadan,

c

m r

mentioned [in the book], in describing my earlier tour at Luke, that “Nellis had reverted to a flying club.” Ergo, Luke was where the real work went on then. But by early 1960, U F Fighter Weapons Sccurriculum appropriating every single mission aspect (including nuclear weapons capability) that could be strapped on an F-100, had become the focus of the Nellis mystique. Nellis reigned supreme. As a final fillip, Nellis now even had the Thunderbirds. The coveted badge of affiliation with this fount of fighter wisdom was the Bull's

(FWS), fortified b

2002, “Lad” wrapped up damn near 50 years in the cockpit. “My final landing there ended ten years of

orporate flying out of ParisLe Bourget and 23 years with

Braniff International, but none of that flying ever atched my first twelve Ai

Force years in Superhogs, Huns, and Thuds.”

10

Eye logo of the FWS with the word "Graduate" worn on the left shoulder of one's flight jacket. "Man, I'd give my left nut to do that," I said, "how do

a dart." I was incredulous.

a

r me in," I said.

* * * the FWS was

already squadron or wing we

Nellis, no program had greater p

the

ground away on theory and technical

the Chinese Nationalist Air Force F-86 drivers.)

yed over

Eilson AFB in Alaska, as well as to

the elevated

We took off in flights of four, afterburners blazing Las Vegas Boulevard as we banked up north,

im

you pick your candidates?" "Oh, I usually just throw "You mean it's up to you alone?" "Sure. I can pick anyone I want; I just have to fill slot." As he watched my wheels turn, his laugh lines wrinkled. "Colo

My time at one of the best experiences of any kind in my entire life. Competition was of the keenest order in every phase, every event, every sortie, even every academic exam. Of the eleven members of FWS Class 60-1, two were just off the Thunderbirds, four were apons training officers; all

were already F-100 instructor pilots. Some dominated in the air; some were better in the classroom. Of those who had gone before us, there remained formidable records. Within our class was the usual range of objectives and self-images, but most of us wanted to be remembered at Nellis, cited as special. Of all activities at em hasis, support, or outside scrutiny. Every weekend, fighter pilots came to rub in a bit of the Nellis aroma, a flight of '100s, or of '104s, and one Saturday, a Navy F-4, the first I ever saw. Never was there such an ugly airplane. Two Lt. Commanders from Navy Patuxent River were in town to show off their new iron. Some Air Force brass had been tasked to evaluate TAC's interest in the new interceptor, but Monday morning, a solo Navy jock scattered self, khaki flying suit, and Phantom across miles of desert. Getting into what we already knew as a “JC” maneuver, he aggravated a high-speed pitch bobble to become uncontrollable at 50 feet and "Jesus Christ...." Our academic classes were built around workhorse F-100: fair at most of its jobs, outstanding at none. The job of the FWS was to teach us how to get the most out of it. First, we would learn how better to fly it, then we'd learn more about all the new stuff they were hanging on Huns. Half a day, wedata: they told us all about the new Sidewinder missile and what a wicked little booger it was—"It’ll fly right up your tailpipe!"—and how the test program had been the best ever. (Chinese MiGs would drive over to Taiwan to get their Sidewinder proctology, courtesy of Uncle Sam and

There was a training film on the new GAM-83 Bullpup. We had the first 10 seconds of it plathree times, just to hear the jazzy riff on the soundtrack when the missile zorched off a diving Hun and straight into the target bunker. After a review of the early material we had studied at Willy, we were updated on the new nukes: what Hiroshima and Nagasaki had taught the bomb builders, and what had been going on out at Bikini Atoll. The new hardware had become "wooden" bombs: they were self-sufficient and had a long shelf life; unlike the big “blivets” of F-84 days, which had batteries to charge, in-flight arming procedures and a cockpit monitor box that had more switches than the rest of the airplane put together. Now we had weapons of utter simplicity. Just hang 'em on the rack, go fling 'em, and run like hell. They were so much more powerful that there was some hedging about whether we would be able to escape our own mischief. Some things weren't even hedged. They just went unspoken. And, as it had been during my nuke alert deployments to Aviano AB, Italy, we were still offered an appalling lack of any intelligence about what was going on with our nominal opponents, the Soviet versions of our AFSC. I was still resentful about how little information we had had in preparing our target folders for those missions, and here at our number one fighter training facility, there was the same black hole about MiGs, Sukhois, and the guys who drove them. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't enough to hear about “how it was in Korea” anymore. In the flying phase, the other half of the day, we came back from the gunnery ranges with

consciousness of recent moments of great personal effort, with an Olympian thrill of victory—or agony of defeat. And behind the faces we showed each other as individual competitors, most of us felt ourselves to be of that select caliber.

low overcl bing past Mt. Charleston. Over vast stretches of barren alkali, we wrung out in successive high G action what we had discussed in class with chalk and banking

11

hands. Watching each other, weighing darkly, we ran our heats with fierce intensity. In my small world, I had imagined it to be about the grandest prize to be had at the time. And so it was, except

the high speed, low-level

so much fun

frustrations aside, for me, the al print of as from John

f brooding malevolence. He flew the F-100 with

ition and standoff

nd acrobatics. These

perience. Successful fighter pilots learn to

that I never found quite the right combination of relaxed tension to post the stunning record that I had in mind. The entire venture seemed hinged on those score sheets when they came in from the range. My dive bombing, rocketry and air-to-air gunnery scores were pathetic. But in my specialty of panel strafe, I was bested at the last minute. I fired 105 out of 115 rounds of 20mm ball ammunition through a standing panel at the gunnery range. Two hours later, the two former 'Birds, Sam Johnson and Gayle Williams, both scored 110 out of 115 on the same sortie. I'm still not sure I believe it. It was to be no better in the nuclear phase. I had expected to do well on navigation to the target, which counted highly, and I'd take my chances with anybody on the bomb accuracy. On my run, I hunted my quarry over a trackless course of wasteland to pull up in a four-G Immelmann within 10 seconds of my controlled time over the target. I looked in vain for the telltale puff of white smoke from the practice bomb. To a doubting operations officer I reported a malfunction. In 20 minutes, maintenance confirmed this. Scheduled for a repeat sortie within the hour, I had a real break, with what now amounted to a practice run at the target. On my second try, I hit the target on the exact second. No bomb. Score zero. I had drawn the one airplane with a bomb selector switch set exactly the opposite of that installed in any other. This had been pointed out to me; what blew it was my lack of concentration. There went the nuclear phase. That word concentration was the key. There were too many easy ways to lose it. The flying was that it was often lost on me that I made silly oversights on details like proper sight settings and wind offset compensation. A contributing factor might have been my attempt to wring the most out of my time around Las Vegas, where plenty was happening in 1960. To study, fly, and make the night scene as well, I'd never sleep more than four hours at once. I did have a hell of a time on “The Strip,” but it was to the utter destruction of my goal to become a legend at Nellis. * * * Personal vanities and re im the Fighter Weapons School wBoyd. When I was there, they were still talking about the epic duel he had waged over the range at Nellis with a Marine from China Lake, the Navy Weapons Center. Major Hal Vincent, I think it was, had been an exchange student in an earlier class of the FWS. After graduation, he had issued an inter-service challenge, but in the best sense, it was a personal affront, to see who the better man was. That Captain Boyd came out on top was a real measure of his expertise, for the Navy sent an F-8 Crusader, which

was a far better air-to-air airplane than the F-100. I don't remember the details of that hotly contested engagement, except that the moment of truth came in a wild vertical maneuver in which the decision ultimately rested upon who could quickest reverse back down to controlled flight from near zero inertia at the top. That duel was Boyd's cachet. A brilliant practical tactician, Boyd was an intense bundle omanic gusto, one that defied both designer intentions and posted limitations. At the time, his flight log contained only around 1,500 hours—the popular joke was that 900 of those had been combat maneuvering, and of those, at least 300 were in semi-controlled gyrations beyond the intended flight envelope of the F-100. At higher levels, war games theory had come to be predicated upon early target acquisweapons; so much so that the F-4 had been designed without a gun on it. When the AF bought into the F-4, despite that unpromising early demonstration, it was a scandal out at Nellis. Sure, missiles had their place, the complaint went, but in actual practice, nose-to-nose confrontation was still gospel. These tough visual engagements were where the instinctual pilot shone, especially after this kind of training. I had always loved acrobatics anyway; now we were engaged in a program that went beyomaneuvers bore little resemblance to the stylized routines of my earlier training. Now, rather than emphasizing the centered ball and smoothness, the premium was upon sudden unpredictability—a gut wrenching willingness to pop rivets, if necessary. That was the attitude part. But as importantly, there was real technique involved. Building on foundations earlier laid down by Cal Davey, Boyd specialized in raising the pilot's consciousness of the vertical plane and the influence of gravity upon it. He began with Davey's famous illustration of a constant G loop, which shows that a pilot who flies a constant four-Gs around does not fly a Ferris wheel loop; it looks more like an egg. In addition to the turning G he is putting on the airplane, mother earth has a finger in the pie with one more G. On the topside of the loop, she helps the rate of angular rotation; on the bottom side, she impedes it. Aha! We turn faster upside down! The man is a walking treatise on gravity. I muse on these things, which confirm and expand my own exmanage inertia and gravity, pure and simple. Acrobatic pilots know this—point the energy, time the roll, let her fall without aggravation. Sometimes the airplane flies better when you let go of it, but timing is where it is—the art is in knowing when to give the airplane its head as a ballistic object. Even in the mightiest thrashings of air-to-air combat, there are seconds of suspension, when it is necessary to appreciate that the most fabulous machine eventually runs out of inertia, fighting gravity. Inertia

12

must be dealt with, whether static or dynamic, as gravity must be managed, either in potential or as a willed accumulation. Flying is not the defeat of gravity, only the suspension of gravity. Gravity must be managed, understood, because it's always there, waiting to smash you. Those that belonged in this program had learned these things from the first days of primary; they were now second nature, but after Boyd, we were reaffirmed in the third dimension. * * * H a t ce the epitome of Nellis…and perhaps e w s a on

s greatest liability. In classroom lectures, he was like m

we drop in behind, nail his ass!

An anomaly he was. In an assembly of pit bulls, he was an alligator. It was said that he was too good at "one-

and yet there

ondered: what quality distinguishes a efinable? How

equalizers; brains are to be

so powerful that mere reason has to

ot quite. As Boyd told us, the aim here

itso e fugitive from the Actor's Studio. Bobbing and weaving, he’d bounce around on the balls of his feet, snarling ferocious grunts with the 'G' forces he was talking us through. I’d sometimes meet him at the O' club, and he’d still be at it there: "We get inside the bastard's turn with a high yo-yo, then off an outside roll, "Unggh!" He bites his cigar in two.

on-one"—that no wingman would stand a chance of staying with him. That he would get a kill every sortie, and lose two wingmen while he was at it. As proof, his detractors cited the loss rate in the Aerial Combat Maneuvering phase of the syllabus. Some inspired "stud,” as trainees were unsubtly dubbed, out to prove that was just what he was, was forever getting in over his head, trying to emulate Boyd. Boyd didn't say it, but exuded the attitude that, if you really mean business, you're going to lose a few. His message was direct: super competent individual aggression is the prime ingredient necessary to assert aerial superiority in the battle theater.

Here was an example of an individual acknowledged by his peers to be the nonpareil of his craft,were always the snipers. Some criticism might have been attributable to ordinary human frailties, such as jealousy and rationalization of personal inability, but the more pernicious variety, always with us, was that which equates quantity with superiority. In such minds, it makes more sense to train many average pilots to mass in mediocre ability, than to field an elite, arduously winnowed cadre of champions. Perhaps this accountant mentality had factored in its own incredulous doubt that such men could be found in the first place, or prove cost efficient in the end. Whatever the critics had to say, I was ardent. Someday I wanted to whip Boyd's ass, or even better, some guy named Boris. I was sure that I had the goods to do it. All I needed was action. * * * I have often wgreat fighter pilot? Is such a commodity drelevant is this speculation? In a profession as marked by exaggerated egos as is that of the fighter pilot, it should be no surprise that there are opposing views on practically any subject among them. In trying to define this quality, an oft-noted paradox is that you can't easily say what the defining criterion is, because combat situations are variable and fluid. Is it leadership, audacity, fearlessness, coolness, technical expertise, analytical ability, adaptability, or keen eyesight? Instances can be cited wherein each of these qualities was remembered as "the" characteristic that set an ace so far apart from his peers that he became, for the observer, the paradigm. So we note that definitions are personal. But what about that quality? Physical gifts are averaged out by engineered found among all stripes; luck doesn't last; charisma is empty without credentials, and survival is not the final determinant here. My version is this: what makes a great fighter pilot is personal convictionstep aside. Conviction in what? Personal superiority, nothing more or less. It has nothing to do with ethics, creeds, duty—everything to do with lust, feelings of inferiority, insensitivity, sport. It is the desire to dominate, for one or any several of these motivations. This conviction comes in aggressive confrontation, that half-second jump in initiative over the less convinced. In a concentration of effort over any other consideration, it manifests itself at the point of maximum tension, asserting itself in performance, after all the bullshit has dried out and blown away. The cynic in me interrupts: you are describing the Kamikaze pilot. Nis to circle high above the flaming demise of the opponent. I believe that this version goes a long way toward rationalizing familiar corollaries to the great fighter pilot proposition: he is often an outsider, a loner, a maverick,

13

and a general pain in the ass during peacetime. In the occasional exception, he is the unique individual who can organize and focus his aggression productively. From the foregoing, it may be inferred that women have no place in the business. It is hard enough to find this

nd

he mental makeup of a

onal squadron, the full complement of ilot me s s e ey wouldn't be

s they apply themselves and gain experience.

the

is a silent thing, not exactly definable by any

ilot: some

re there, ey atever

ever forget watching you deadstick that F-00

ki of material among males. It might even be noted that these are precisely the characteristics that modern American women say they find inexplicable, odious and of no redeeming social value. How right they are! Just the stuff you want in a fighter pilot! Whatever the origin of such alienation, I later read some professor's synthesis of ttypical fighter ace. He saw trends that I recognized immediately. Many had come from what we now call dysfunctional families. There was often a telltale record of adolescent incidents: school ground fights, truancy, anti-social behavior. He thought a prime motivational factor was an innate feeling of inferiority. Looking back on harsh discipline, trouble at school, even broken bones, I saw personal parallels. While at heart a romantic, as a young man I was sick of getting sand kicked in my face. Inside was venom; I stood wasp-ready for the moment I could take it out in a manner that would fulfill my ambition for respect and glory. * * * In any operatip s et om minimum standard or ththere, but among the members themselves is a general awareness of hierarchy. In a truly outstanding unit, there must be at least one exemplary individual. He isn't necessarily the commander, or the best pilot, just the keeper of the attitude. Out of 20, there are probably only about three of exceptional ability in the aircraft. Behind them are seven or so, solid, occasionally shiny people who are the determinants of the overall strength of the unit. Then, there are five, who if teamed with the right leaders, will usually deliver acceptable performance. The remaining five must be carefully matched to any assignment; fundamentally, they are fillers, there to meet numbers requirements. Of this group, one or two are real cautions who will be shortly eliminated, one way, or another. In this hierarchy, there are always those working their way up, aThere are also those on the way down, who've never really managed to meet the upper standards and have accepted it, or have decided that this just isn't their kind of racket. Don Shula once told a great story about an All Star team he was to coach for a bowl game. He said that onfirst day, he looked at the assembled athletes, trying to decide his hierarchy out of a group of peers who were three deep in every position. In a flash of instinct, he ordered the men to line up by position, in order. In one minute, the men themselves had defined his lineups. He said there was no arguing or discussion. The men knew.

This is the case in every operational squadron. The men know. It clinical study or doctoral thesis. I suppose that some clarification is in order: one, I never said you had to be an intellectual to qualify as a great fighter pilot, and two, you can't really predict when one will pop up in a unit. They are random, occasional, like Van Gogh, or Nureyev, or Billy the Kid—but lacking one of these in a unit, you have little more than a bunch of journeyman slot-fillers. * * * About this business of being a fighter pwant to be the best; most just want to be accepted. Either way of thinking can eat a man up, if he doesn’t have the goods, or doesn't really think he does. I remember one big exercise at Warner-Robins AFB. We flew some B-model Thuds down there from Seymour for the event. It was an unusually diverse gathering of aircraft types, with pilot rivalries running rampant. We weren't getting to do much, but it may have been the first time all these different types were all assembled en masse.

It was like a fighter pilot rodeo; many top hands weeing each other's mounts, exhibiting wh

At Warner-Robins, Dick Lawyer (later astronaut in MOL program, RIP), Jack Swaney (RIP) and “Lad.” “I look

small,” says Lad, “but they were BIG guys!”

particular élan they could muster. We had the biggest, shiniest airplanes, and our distinguishing gear was in knee straps, with the jingling buckles, part of our ejection system hookup. Likewise, the '104 boys wore spurs that kept their legs from flailing in a high-speed ejection. The less festooned among our brethren made suitably denigrating comments, masking their lack of some similar gimmick of hardware. There was the usual rainbow of shoulder and breast patches, featuring fists, snorting nostrils, and bloodshot eyeballs. As usual, of those who had been around for a while, we ran into close acquaintances, some faces barely remembered, and some of new people we would see on down the line. I ran into Pepe Casillas. "Boy, I'll n1 into Rivolto," was the first thing he said to me.

14

I'll always remember that it cost umpteen Thuds to hit the Paul Doumer Bridge at Hanoi, and that it was Pepe who finally dumped the damned thing. But that day in Georgia, there were '104s from George, '101s from Shaw, '100s from Alex, and more. The SAC "Apes" arrested me for walking out between the runways to take pictures of all the different aircraft lifting off in formation. Among the faces new to me was this big, balding fellow from a Hun squadron out at George. He wasn't a blowhard or anything like that, but he had a whole cluster of real young lieutenants hanging around him, vying for his approval. It appeared that he was the inspiration of that squadron. The Tactical Air Command holds an annual shoot-off among its elite at Nellis. This contest features events in all phases of ground and air gunnery. Rules are strict, competition relentless; stakes are high: a year's worth of bragging rights as the hottest of the hot. A few months later, it was at this event, code-named Red Flag, that the big guy bought the farm on a rocket pass, right on national TV. As the designated knight from George, they said he got into a steep pass, took too long sighting his shot, and had too little time to recover after he fired. With only one pass for score, he had to make good. He was the keeper of the attitude. As an example of the burden at the other end of the scale, I cannot forget the story of the "Porch-climber," as I knew him. Among those gathering at Warner-Robins was a man I had met long before, during my first stop in the Azores. Among that ferry contingent was one particularly noticeable pilot who seemed intent upon keeping his presence among us the most obvious fact of the moment. He was so loud and obnoxious that one could not escape him, even by ignoring him. He stirred sophomoric memories: fraternity beer busts, panty raids, and days hanging around the drive-in. He liked a drink he called a "Porch-climber" (after a few of those, you crawled home; you had to throw an arm and a leg up from the flowerbed to get aboard). He made such an impression that I had no problem recalling him on any subsequent encounter. It was uncanny. Every time I went anywhere on a TDY, there he'd be, on a ferry flight, on an exercise, at Chateauroux, or Lajes. Nouasseur or Langley, there he'd be. When I ran into him this time, I gave in to the developing relationship our repeated encounters had made inevitable. Unthinking, I opened with the same greeting

that had fallen upon me from some hearty the day before— "Well hey, guy," I said, "still just as ugly as ever, I see." "Aw, you son-of-a-bitch," was all he said, as he hung his head. In mute shame, I realized a fact that I had, in all our encounters, failed to integrate. The man was truly homely! Years later, the final stamp of irony fell upon his memory when I heard this story from a mutual acquaintance that was with him in Vietnam. It seems that their unit had a request for volunteers to drop some classified, dangerous new ordnance on the VC. Always eager to please, still looking for the approbation he could not give himself, our friend stepped up to the call. Later that day, he eased up behind a tanker, near the DMZ. One minute he was there, ugly centerline bomb rack fully clustered with whatever it was that he was going to drop on Uncle Ho's boys. The next moment, he was gone in a ball of black smoke. Was it that mysterious load that caused the sudden explosion behind the tanker? They never knew. It hardly matters, poor man. If only he could know, how well, even tenderly, I remember him. While I am on fighter pilot peer pressure, another case comes to mind. In one of the squadrons to which some of the old 308th had been reassigned after Aviano, I got to know several new faces during my occasional visits. One of these was a quiet, self-effacing individual, from somewhere in the South, as I recall. In classical music, we had touched upon a mutual interest, enough that I remember one quick trip by his apartment, where we checked out his elaborate new hi-fi system, together with some recordings. One of them was Bizet's L'Arlesienne, Suite Numbers 1 and 2. As I chattered on, he was reserved, almost withdrawn. A few months later, I thought of this immediately, after hearing that he had died in the remains of his car, crushed against a bridge abutment. "The autopsy didn't come up with a thing. He didn't drink, and it was not late. Some guys said that they thought he was a latent homosexual, and just couldn't live with it anymore." My informant was genuinely sympathetic. Everybody liked the guy, even if they hardly noticed him. Maybe that isolation is what I had sensed about him. Poor soul, how lonely can you get? ◘

“COLD WARRIOR” Chapter 12, Mystique — Fini. Here’s an opinion on this article from Asst. Editor Dr. John J. Schulz, after he had edited Lad’s manuscript “lightly.” Ed. “This is a remarkable submission: fascinating reminiscence combined with Freudian analysis that pushes the edges of grammatical convention here and there, but nonetheless provides the kind of dissertation that will leave every reader wondering, 'Which am I,' and 'How do I fit in Duaine’s list of 20 per squadron.' “We have an unusual piece on our hands; one that will stand out. A captivating and slightly disturbing read (disturbing as each reader tries to fit in the listings Duaine proposes, or in Shula’s peer lineup). It is introspective in parts, utterly fascinating in others, especially as we consider the good Captain Boyd and what a stud he was and must have been....and how the Peacetime Air Force just could never handle guys like that.... Just no place for them...till the red tide of war sweeps across the land…. So, thumbs up on this one!” — jjs Make that two thumbs up! Ed.

15

More Hun Driver High Jinks

White or Blue

Super Sabre Society Store = Hot Deals There are lots of items available to members on the SSS website under the link Auxiliary Equipment. The items shown below (a sub-set of those on the website) are big sellers. So belly up and get a nice hat and perhaps some other sew-on or stick-on items to help you celebrate being a SSS member. Sloan Brooks will process and deliver your order if you send a snail-mail letter with your selections and a check to “Auxiliary Equipment,” SSS, PO Box 500044, Austin, TX, 78750, or I’ll bet he’d even take an email order from you addressed to sloan@sloan.net and send the goodies when he gets your check. Good stuff, good cause, good deal!

Stick-on Decal (3”) 2/$5

Stick-on Decal (2”) 2/$5

F-100 Patch (3.5”) $5

Large Patch (7.11”x9”) $15

Small Patch (3.5”x3”) $5

Not an Orange Hat! $15

What are these 48th TFW, 492nd TFS, jocks laughing about? After French President General Charles de Gaulle decided to disinvite U.S. forces from basing on French soil, the 48th flew en masse from Chaumont AB to their new home at RAF Lakenheath on 15 Jan 1960. Known as “The Hat Squadron,” these 492nd guys are already switching from the French Beret to the familiar British Bowler as their hat style of choice. “Goodbye Paris…hello London!” L to R: Paul Raudenbush, Unk (Ops O.), Sid Wright, John "Skinny" Innis (492nd CC), and Roger Johnson. Photo submitted by Associate SSS’r Doug Gordon who found it a few years ago during some basic research at Norwich, U.K., in the archives of the East Anglian Daily Times. At the time, he had recently published an article on the 48th Wing about its time at Chaumont. This is the start of the Bowler era of the 48th. We first published a later picture of the Bowler Hats and High Jinks in Issue Eight of The Intake on page 29. Check it out!

16

Provided by Chuck Sweeney, President of the Distinguished Flying Cross Society

Book Review Time — “On Heroic Wings”

The old adage “You can’t judge a book by its cover” doesn’t apply in this case, because the front and back covers of “On Heroic Wings: Stories of the Distinguished Flying Cross” are beautiful, simple and striking, but what’s inside is extremely meaningful…and entertaining at the same time. The first thing you come across is the beautiful painting “Distinguished Flying Cross” by legendary artist Ruth Mayer. This is followed by a great Foreword by President George H. W. Bush (DFC recipient) and a striking Introduction by Jim Lovell (also a DFC recipient). There are some outstanding color photos in the front matter, and then the two authors, Barry Lanman and Laura Wendling, really go to work. They start with the history of the DFC and the legacy of some of the early recipients (both famous and ordinary people), including many little known facts about them, coupled with some great photos. Then they get into the real heart of the book, telling the stories of numerous DFC recipients, often in their own words from Oral History interviews and supported with outstanding photos, many of them from the recipients themselves. This part of the book is broken down into five chapters: WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Recent Decades, and In a Class by Themselves. The stories are incredible, and here are just some of those included in the five chapters:

• Doolittle Raider becomes a Japanese POW • Survivor of Battle of Midway becomes a Fighter Pilot • Illegal Immigrant becomes double Ace • Ball turret gunner • Tuskegee Airmen • Kamikaze Pilot Awarded US DFC • Flying WWII aircraft in Korea • The MiG Mauler Story that can now be told • Glider Pilot, Bomber Pilot, Fighter Pilot and Test Pilot • Three DFCs in one week • One-Hundred Thud Missions • Cobras, Corvettes & Cambodia • A Native American Warrior • The Libya Raid • Rescues in Alaska and after Katrina • Three DFCs in four days • Casualty evacuations over Baghdad (shown on Oliver North’s

“War Stories”) • Astronauts • Only US President to be awarded a DFC • WWII & Korea USMC Pilot becomes a New York Yankee • Pilot dead sticks a U-2 at night after flameout over the Rockies • Thirteen DFCs in WWII and Korea but tied by thirteen DFCs in Vietnam • Medal of Honor Recipients and POWs

The men and women are from all five services, flying in myriad aircraft (props and jets), helicopters, space vehicles and even blimps, as pilots and aircrew of all ranks and rates. There are several father and sons, a grandfather and grandson, and twin brothers each being awarded a DFC, but the most unique family is a husband and wife both being awarded DFCs as A-10 pilots. The last chapter covers the Distinguished Flying Cross Society, commencing with its formation, continuing up to the present and looking toward the future. The book finishes with an eloquent Epilogue by the Honorable Anthony Principi [4th United States Secretary of Veterans Affairs]. This is a book that everyone can be proud to own, because the stories are not only spellbinding, but the photos help bring life to the individuals or to the events described in the words of the participants. Included with the book is a supplement that is a listing, as of January 12, 2012, of the members of the Distinguished Flying Cross Society, all of whom are recipients of the DFC. Learn more and purchase the book on the Distinguished Flying Cross Society’s website at http://dfcsociety.net/?page_id=813. You’ll be glad you did. — R. Medley Gatewood, Editor, The Intake ◘

17

The Way We Were

Fifty years younger and 40 pounds lighter, we were always ready to kick the tires, light the fires and belly up

to the bar at happy hour. Those were the days!

Robert W. “Foxy ”Bazley

Roderick G. Beckett David K. Burke

Huey Moreland * N. Murphy Davis Rohr

18

We have “Hero Pictures” of only 225 of 1,500 members and we’ve published 162.

It’s time to add lots of others to our supply before more of our heroes fly west. So, please dig out your favorites and participate ASAP!

We prefer scanned photos (at 300ppi) emailed to Photo Editor Shaun Ryan at (f100plt@gmail.com). If you have no way to scan, snail mail it with a return

address to Shaun at 6610 Sutherland Ridge Place, Tucson, AZ 85718, and we’ll return the originals. Thanks, Photo Ed.

* Does anyone know this Hun driver, or how we got his picture? We don’t have a N. Murphy listed as a member. Ed.

William “Whiskey Bill” Douglass John Hunt Mike Major

Larry L. Weidkamp Sid “Playboy” Wright Ron Williams

19

Three SEA Tours: Three Very Different Airplanes and Missions

By Jack Doub “WHISKEY BILL” DOUGLASS — Misty 02, the Story of a Fighter Pilot

The sound of the rounds clanging into the side of the airplane was unmistakable, much like smelling a skunk for the first time; even if you'd never heard it before, you knew what it was. The little Cessna gamely continued flying, so it must be okay.... “At least for the time being anyway,” thought the American FAC in the front seat. The Vietnamese observer in the rear was not hit, but totally terrified as twenty-odd rounds banged into the left side of the Bird Dog.

The American winced as a round slammed into his left leg. He quickly realized his leg was now limp and useless. He anticipated the onset of great pain, but oddly, it was bearable, and his mind turned to getting them the hell out of there! The small 213-horsepower

engine howled in strained protest as the little bird clawed for altitude. Initially, they turned for home, but, thinking better about the lack of medical care there in the boondocks, the American turned slowly toward Da Nang and its U.S. military hospital. Because his Dad worked at the airport in Manchester, New Hampshire, it was natural that the young lad grew up building model airplanes of all kinds. It was less predictable that young Bill Douglass would first attempt college at Bowdoin College...the well-known and elite liberal bastion in Brunswick, Maine. Bill now suggests his lack of success at this earliest attempt at a college degree was preordained from the git-go because, quite simply, he didn't study hard enough. About this time, 1953, he discovered the Air Force's Aviation Cadet Program. After preliminary testing in Boston, he proceeded to Sampson AFB in New York for the full battery of cadet testing and was soon off to Lackland AFB, Texas, for Navigator Preflight Training. Following Basic nav training at Harlingen, Texas, it was on to the plexiglass nose of a B-25 and the TAC Recce course at Mather AFB near Sacramento. After pinning on his nav wings, he checked out in the RB-26 at Hurlburt Field, then was on to Shaw AFB where he eventually made his way into the jet age aboard the RB-66. All the while, though, young Bill was aching for a pilot training slot. It took three years. In 1959, while pushing the max age limit for flight training, Lieutenant Douglass was finally off to pilot training at Graham Air Base in the panhandle of Florida. He loved the T-34 and excelled at guiding the little Beechcraft through the skies over North Florida, but it was

the T-37 that ultimately convinced him, “Hey! No doubt about it. I knew I could fly!” Things got even better at Laredo, as Lt. Douglass absolutely excelled in the T-33. Even as Number One in his class, though, he was sweating out their aircraft assignments. SAC was in a desperate hunt for KC-97 and B-47 pilots; not exactly what the young fighter-pilot-to-be had in mind. Not to worry, though; he snapped up his first choice, the F-100C, and was off to Luke! He quickly made his peace with the not always easy-to-fly Super Sabre and was soon off to Nellis for advanced gunnery. He was thrilled with his final orders: the 494th Fighter Squadron at RAF Lakenheath Air Base in the UK. It was his first meeting there with the Wing DO that brought him back to earth just a bit when the air boss told him, “Lieutenant, you're nothing but another lieutenant to me...and you're gonna be looking up the slat line a long, long time!”

O-1 Bird Dog

Fully chastened, but undaunted, the young Douglass made his way through the checkout process and became a fully qualified fighter pilot, with the nuke certificate to show for it. He loved the day-to-day life of a fighter-pilot. From the grapevine, however, came rumblings of a “guerilla war” going on in a far-off place called Vietnam. He had to pull out an Atlas to look up Southeast Asia and locate the small country that was only occasionally in the news. He read that we “only had advisors” there.

Happy days with A Flight, 494th TFS. Bill at top of the line-up.

But that was not what the scuttlebutt indicated. As his O-1 churned along smoothly, he worried more about his leg wound than about the airplane. He began to feel less than great. In fact, he worried about shock setting in and again checked his leg. It was bad. Worse than he'd thought. The round had slammed into his leg just below the top of his boot. Blood gushed from a gaping wound in his leg. Fortunately he had anticipated just such an event when he prepared a medical kit for all his O-1 missions. Included was a tourniquet. Painfully he propped his foot up on the instrument panel as he stuffed bandages in the fist-sized hole in his lower leg, then applied the tourniquet tightly. The bleeding stopped; the little bird gamely droned on to the north.

20

He first became truly worried when his vision grew fuzzy and his focus began ranging in and out. “Shock!” he thought with alarm. “I've got to get this thing on the ground.” It was still about 30 miles to Da Nang when he spied the strip carved in the dirt. Not as long as he would've liked, but it appeared to be freshly cleared with a few piles of dirt at one end and along the sides of the recent excavation. It looked like the construction work had been interrupted. “This had to be it,” he decided and wheeled around, setting up the best pattern he could manage. He got the little bird pretty much lined up, held it and made a decent landing, considering his state. Once on the ground, however, his left leg turned out to be useless and he was unable to correct a swerve. The little bird bounced off the rough strip and came to a rest on a small mound of dirt, but upright. With the engine still ticking over he sat and worried whether his “Mayday” calls had been heard. When his orders came through, they were clear and to the point: “Proceed to Da Nang Air Base, Republic of South Vietnam for O-1 checkout and duty as Province FAC for Quang Ngai Province.” Vietnam was hot and sticky. It was also a new experience and there was a fascination with this new adventure. There was construction everywhere. His checkout was unremarkable and quick. In 10 days he was headed for Quang Ngai and his new home. Everything was very primitive, including the “airfield.” Coolies pounded rocks to prepare a ramp for the narrow, but paved runway. It was obviously a very poor area of Vietnam. About 100,000 Vietnamese lived in the province...with one doctor! Not a good setting for a war. His first concern was for the airplane, which was sitting out in the elements. Not a good plan for the tropics of SEA. Enlisting a corps of coolies, Douglass himself set about filling sand bags for an aircraft revetment. His first day at Quang Ngai, the U. S. Army Lt. Col. in charge of the area pronounced, “This province is safe as can be!” Young Douglass, however, couldn't help but note the bullet hole in the middle of his jeep's windshield. His combat routine began with flights every day to learn the area and acquaint himself with the positions of his assigned ARVN units. The Vietnamese army elements were happy to have the eyes and ears of the eager young American, who shared the O-1 with several VNAF pilots who flew the airplane much less often than he did. The Vietnamese, he noted, were in for a long war and they knew it. They seemed more interested in staying alive, which was understandable, given that it was a war in their homeland—a place with no history of short wars. About three months after his arrival, the enemy moved major forces into his immediate operations area, and skirmishing began almost immediately. On this fateful

day, the fighting intensified as the largest enemy force on record attacked in several locations to the west. As he and his passenger launched in the O-1, the largest battle in recent memory was underway just 10 or so miles west of their home field, where pitched battles raged. Once in the area of the major fighting, they were overhead in a left turn at about a thousand feet when automatic weapons fire raked the left side of his small Cessna. The little bird bucked and wobbled as he fought for control. After the round smashed into his leg, the left rudder became useless to him. His first instinct was to go to full power and start an immediate turn to the north as they struggled for altitude. Listening intently for any sign of engine problems, he finally decided the most damaged part of the airplane was himself! To their vast relief, the little bird stayed together and hummed along serenely. So far so good. It was a tossup who was most elated to see the C-123 circling overhead; Douglass or his Vietnamese observer. Elated to know that someone knew where they were, their elation turned to amazement when the transport slowed, lowered the landing gear, and lined up for the short strip! “Oh my God!” thought Douglass, “They're landing on the dirt!” With, at the most, 1,500 feet of usable runway, the big machine made a full-on assault landing, then dropped the nose and went into full reverse propellors, creating an immediate cloud of red dust as the plane strained under the pull of full reverse and maximum braking. It was dicey, but the the C-123 made it with a few hundred feet to spare. Bill was dying to meet his savior, if he could last that long. It turned out the pilot was a colorful character named Harry Houton, who now faced the problem of getting out of this short, ill-prepared runway. They would never make it with the full load of cargo onboard, so Houton ordered the plane emptied of all cargo. Once they'd tended to Douglass as best they could, and the flight crew walked the full length of the short strip, they taxiied the now-much-lighter C-123 to the end of the dirt runway and with all four engines straining at full power, were able to lift off just before running out of runway. "Piece of cake for assault airlift!" quipped Houton, as they flew north toward Da Nang, leaving a huge cloud of red dust behind. They also left the stacks of cargo, due to the short runway length [picked up soon thereafter by several other aircraft]. In his words, Douglass received "superior medical treatment" from the Marine docs at Da Nang. In short order, he was evacuated to the Army Hospital in Quin Nhon, RVN, then on to Clark Air Base in the Philippines, before his final trip to the naval hospital in Chelsea, Maine. With four inches of his tibia blown out, he underwent four surgeries and several bone grafts before he

21

began final rehabilitation. He was a patient at Chelsea for six months.

While hospitalized, he took the time to read and study the history of war in Vietnam. In his well-read opinion, "McNamara never understood the Asians. Douglas MacArthur well understood the Asian culture and war in Asia. The war would've ended differently had the General been in charge." Regarding his stay at the ancient hospital in Maine, he quipped, "It was the oldest continuous-duty

Naval hospital, and the nurses came with it!" But it was not all gloom and doom at Chelsea. His time there allowed him to re-establish contact with his wife-to-be, the lovely Jackie, a definite boost to his spirits. As he healed, new orders arrived, to England AFB, LA, where the flight docs determined he was not quite fit for flight duty. After four agonizing months of additional duties and therapy, he was once again back on flying status and again all checked out in the Hun. Life was good! Then, with little warning, his squadron deployed to Phan Rang Air Base. Back to Vietnam! But this time he was in the cockpit of a jet. And a flight commander to boot. A huge difference! When the squadron moved to Phu Cat Air Base a few months later, he was approached by Squadron Commander Paul Ingram about joining a new, top secret group. Douglass volunteered and in early June, 1967, found himself the ops officer of the just-forming Commando Sabre Test Group. Their mission: stop the flow of goods moving through Route Pack I toward the DMZ and west to the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Whether by rail, waterway or truck, their job was to interdict the flow of war supplies to the NVA and VC down south. They would have ABCCC support from the C-130s orbiting in Thailand and high priority for fighter support, as well as refueling support either in Thailand or over the sea to the east. They were to be manned by four O-1 FACs from the DMZ area who had been through the F-100 course and 10 combat-ready F-100 pilots, already in the theater and with combat experience. They would be attached to the 416th TFS for administrative support and fly F-100s from the 35th TFW pool of airplanes. After he made a trip to Saigon to discuss the mission and desired results, Douglass returned to Phu Cat for his first meeting with the new commander, Major George "Bud" Day. From the very beginning, the pair made a

formidable team. As the new volunteers arrived in June, ’67, the planning and testing began in earnest. And a callsign was selected: Bud and “Dorie” Day's favorite song: Misty. With that, a military aviation legend was born. Starting from scratch, they tried just about everything with mixed results. Two single seat models didn't work, because there was too much jinking for flight safety at the low altitudes their visual recce required. The best answer proved to be low and fast, with two sets of eyes searching for targets: the F-100F two seater. Next was the configuration: two 335 gallon drop tanks and two seven-shot rocket pods on the outboard stations for target marking with white phosporous rockets, the 2.75 inch Mighty Mouse. Speed and low drag were essential for the fuel mileage they would need for the arduous missions to come. Running at full military with a smooth touch while maneuvering more or less constatntly would give them the airspeed they needed for survival. Four hundred fifty knots was great, faster was even better, and a minimum speed of 400 knots was generally considered the safest approach. Of course, the burner was to be avoided, if at all possible.

Da Nang Marine Hospital, medals awarded by ARVN

commanders for valor.

The next thing they needed to develop was an ability to “see” things that were camouflaged. At first, they saw very little on the ground, but as their proficiency increased, things began to "pop out!" They called it getting your "Misty Eyes." The develpment of the Misty program and unit progressed well and rapidly. Bill and Bud [Misty 02 and 01, respectively] were delighted with the progress, and particularly with the quality of their all-volunteer force. Everyone seemed to be downright exceptional, as they pieced together an intricate operation. From the admin guys to the intel folks to the pilots, everyone threw themselves at the problems with a fervor rarely seen. If they could learn to live in the low altitude AAA environment over North Vietnam and Laos, their early results proved they would be a valuable force that could practically deny the daylight hours to the enemy.

Original Misty group: “Generation One,” as they called

themselves. Bill is standing, far right.

22

Then disaster struck. Bud Day, their much-loved leader, was shot down over Route Pack One. Even though they saw both pilots in their chutes, the rescue choppers, who swooped in for the copilot first, were unable to locate Bud on the ground, and the Mistys feared the worse: their leader was MIA.

The Misty pilots pressed on, however, and refined their skills, while Douglass spent all the time he could checking out their new boss, an experienced fighter pilot from Phan Rang, Major P. J. White. All too soon though, Douglass’ four-month tour ended; it was time for him to return to his squadron for the short remainder of this SEA tour. Following this second combat tour, he proceeded to

Cannon AFB as an F-100 IP in the ultra busy schoolhouse, funneling newly minted Super Sabre drivers to the war. It was a good tour, and he loved the work, but soon the pull of combat again grew within him, so he voluteered for F-105s in SEA. In no time, he was off to McConnell AFB and the Thud short course. He found the F-105 to be an impressive airplane, "The Hun, plus a hundred knots," as he described it. It was a very stable bird; easy to land, a fine formation airplane and a great bombing platform. One thing was certain from the very beginning of his Thud tour—the living conditions in Thailand were much, much better than anyplace he'd seen in South Vietnam. From air conditioned rooms to the absence of nightly mortar rounds raining down on the airbase, things were civilized. By the time he arrived, however, a variety of bombing pauses dictated the target scheduling, and they mostly flew under FAC control in Laos. He was disappointed to find they were hitting truck parks with 10-day-old intel info and photos. From his Misty experience, he knew we could do much, much better. It became clear they were entering a "wind down" phase of the war and that puzzled him. The inefficiency of our interdiction program led him to re-focus his attention as the assistant operations officer. He became hellbent on keeping the young pilots from killing themselves, making sure they returned safely from their tour in Thailand. During this period, he was selected to spend 33 days TDY aboard three different carriers on Yankee Station as part of a combat air operations exchange program. He noted with interest that our Navy brethren had a much different philosophy. The captain of the ship was given decision making responsibility unheard of in USAF operations.

While Air Force commanders seemed unable to make decisions without 7th Air Force input from Saigon, the USN carrier commanders were given great latitude to fight their war and, most importantly, protect their ships. The carriers had two fighters overhead on 24-hour CAP, with another two aircraft on five minute alert onboard. If a MiG over North Vietnam so much as turned toward the carrier group, the captain immediately instructed his alert birds to "Go get 'em!" There was no hesitation, no checking with anyone. The Navy encouraged decision-making at the lowest possible level—the direct opposite of what he saw in the USAF operations. In those days, the Navy at sea had limited communication capabilities, creating a different decision-making process. (Author’s note: One wonders if things have remained the same in this era of instant com?) Returning to Takhli, Douglass was asked to join Stan/Eval, where he was able to work diligently at what he calls, "Trying to keep guys alive."

Bill’s last Misty flight, 1967. A favorite photo. His Thud Wing did

some good flying in the Barrel Roll and Steel Tiger areas of Laos. The threats remained real because the North Vietnamese moved many of their AAA batteries into Laos during the bombing pauses. Groundfire was an ever-increasing and constant threat, as was the growing SAM activity. In fact, due to the heavy losses in the single seater "D" models, most missions were lead by an "F" model...the two-seater.

Bill with Thud crew chiefs, Takhli AB, 1970.

Inevitably, the day of his champagne flight arrived. Bill lead a four-shipper on a Laos mission, then returned to base with a crisp, but safe, formation flyby that ended his combat flying forever. At his farewell dining in, he commented that his biggest desire was to get the POWs home and to end it all. It had been a long road to the end of combat for Bill Douglass; a dizzying path from the almost eerie, 90-knot, world of the O-1 to the hard-to-comprehend, flashing speed and jinking of the Misty mission, to interdiction with the largest single-engine fighter ever built. Living chiefly on the economy in Quang Ngai was replaced by life on the drab military base at Phu Cat, then on to the sparkling mahogany splendor that was Takhli. He had come a long way, young Bill Douglass; but now the wily veteran was tabbed for the wing plans shop back at McConnell, which was fine with him as long as he could stay current in the Thud. As so often happens with staff jobs, the number of folks eligible to fly the '105 was cut drastically and he found himself relegated to the T-39...with all the other staff guys. (Author: Douglass

23

Departures

Welcome aboard! I recently learned that Jill Nuber (Phil, RIP in ’03) and Alice Washburn (“Wild” Bill, RIP in 2009) are newly minted Associate Members of the SSS, having been encouraged to apply, and then sponsored (respectively) by Jack Van Loan & Hal Hermes, and Jack Sanders & Jack Cousyn. I speak for them, and many other SSS’rs who knew the Nubers and Washburns well, when I send a warm public welcome to these two new SSS ladies. Here’s hoping we can all meet and greet each other again at the coming 4th SSS reunion in Las Vegas. Please see page 34 for reunion forecast. Ed.

The following SSS members, associates or honorees have truly “slipped the surly bonds

of Earth” to “dance the sky on laughter silvered wings” forever. They will not be

forgotten. Our sincere condolences to their families and close friends.

Stanley Leroy “Buzz” Wiggins

February 2, 2011

Dennis M, “Denny” Cordero March 15, 2012

William W. Douglass, Jr.

March 17, 2012

Robert J. “Bob” Eatinger March 17, 2012

Marion “Skip” Webb, Jr.

March 20, 2012

R.T. Renner March 29, 2012

Ron Williams May 5, 2012

Ronald Mac Clements

May 5, 2012

Richard “Rudder” Pierce June 27, 20112

~~//~~ R. I. P.

actually said "weenies", but we knew the editors would never buy that!) Bill was an unhappy camper, but again, fate stepped in and he snared an Air Guard Advisor slot with the Sioux City, Iowa, Air National Guard unit flying the F-105. He loved it! During their first ORI together, he scored a shack on a nuke delivery, ending the exercise on a high note. He loved the Thud. Like the F-100, it was a stick and rudder airplane. "A very comfortable airplane," he recalls. The Air Force once more proved all good things must end, when he was transferred to Shaw AFB as commander of the 704th TASS. That was to be his last assignment, and in 1974 he retired from the USAF. College followed, in Albuquerque, where he graduated and entered the MBA program. Eventually, he and Jackie returned to Sioux City, where he taught high school for three delightful years before he was lured away by a job offer in the nuclear industry as a nuclear reactor operator. Ironically, he was again reunited with one of his favorite jet engines...the Thud's J75, which powered the combustion turbines. His expertise enabled him to develop several cost-saving procedures for the two engines that powered each nuclear plant, saving the State of Iowa a bundle of money! Bill was eventually promoted to superintendant of all the nuclear plants in Iowa. For many years, he and Jackie had vacationed in Colorado, and that colorful state proved to be their retirement choice. They loved the proximity to the Academy and called it a great retirement area. Bill said an added bonus was the number of Mistys retired in the area. Speaking of one of his most memorable experiences he said, "Thank god for Bud Day. His leadership meant the world to Misty." In a remark that could well apply to his most remarkable life in fighters, he comments on his Misty comrades, "We don't really know what's inside us until the challenge arises." Epilogue: The amount of affection and respect the author feels for Bill Douglass is probably not well hidden in this piece. So much for objectivity. As this article went into its final stages of production, on March 17, 2012, Bill slipped the surly bonds and flew west. He was surrounded by those he loved....Jackie and their two sons. The Hun community...and the USAF... lost one of the greats that sad day. Rest in peace, old friend.... We are all better for knowing you. ◘

Charter member Jack Doub is also a

Contributing Editor on The Intake staff. He flew three tours in Vietnam, including 102 missions

as a Misty. He is attributed with more Hun combat missions in SEA

than any other F-100 pilot (572).

24

By Hal Hermes Reflections on Wheelus…and Saving It…One Week in 1967!

Spirits were high among the 493rd “Yellow Tails” on Friday, 26 May 1967, as engines cranked at RAF Lakenheath for what would presumably be a routine two-week weapons delivery square filler at Wheelus AB, Libya. We were the last four-ship of Huns following those launched earlier at 30-minute intervals, led by squadron commander “Bolo” Brunson. Gear up, flaps up, join up, 360 KIAS to .8 mach, then level at 31.5 over northern France, and all was uneventful until “Abeam Ajaccio,” where 48th TFW policy dictated diversion to Aviano should less than 5,600 pounds of fuel remain. Was it #3, maybe Bob Lynch, who called 5,500? Can’t remember now, but it was wonderful to see a plan coming together. Shutdown at Aviano, shower, Walter at the club waiting with before-dinners, then a BIG, BIG meal at Gorgatzo’s (or was it Nino’s?), washed down with faces full of the fine “vino locale.” Life was good, indeed. We got up early, but not so bright eyed and bushy tailed, breakfast enhanced by Bruna and Angie, then airborne again for Wheelus. Picking up the Pantelleria Beacon now, four Super Sabres turning initial, met by Ops Officer Bert Freeman, who was more than mildly curious as to why the first 12 had made it non-stop, with scads of fuel. Friday and Saturday beer calls at Wheelus were not to be forgotten as a humble selection of the world’s greatest fighter pilots from throughout Europe gathered two and three deep at the main bar. This noble structure was large and horseshoe shaped, allowing one to easily spot and harangue many an old buddy from training or a previous assignment. It was the best bar in North Africa since Rick’s. But what was this? Outrage! The dirty, commie support group killjoys had renovated, leaving a wall-to-wall bar of straight board, with no character; zip, nada. This was change we could not believe in, but much more than that was in store.

After Luke check out, Hal flew Huns around

the World with the 522nd and 493rd TFSs.

He then had a SEA Thud tour followed by

Luke Hun IP duty before he “upgraded”

to the SLUF!

Flying ops for the next week were vintage Wheelus, though. Clean wings, clear El Uotia skies, skip, strafe, 15, 30, 45 degree, rockets, laydown, LADD, OTS, and many quarters changing hands during debrief. The following weekend featured, if memory serves, the first USAFE TDY rotators beach party of the season, replete with target cloth sunshades, barbeque, teachers, nurses, blabbermouth and drunks. Unbeknownst to us, though, the winds of war were coming to the Middle East and North Africa, and the days of business-as-usual at Wheelus AB would become numbered because of it. For, on Monday morning, all were assembled at their respective detachment Ops, awaiting USAFE orders responding to the attack on Israel by its surrounding neighbors. The legendary “Six Day War” had begun at dawn and all USAFE Dets were subsequently ordered home, forthwith. Except for ours, that is; the 48th TFW Det. was directed instead to Cigli AB, Turkey, for nuclear alert, joining our small squadron Det. already in place. Except for six of us, that is, who were tasked to remain on day fighter alert, defending Wheelus from possible attack by the, ah, formidable Libyan Air Force. Our Huns were quickly reconfigured with 800 rounds of 20mm, two AIM-9Bs and 450 gallon tubs (WTF, over?). And for six (yes, six) days we kept the Libyan F-5 drivers cowering in their bunkers, thereby saving the small garrison at Wheelus, even those bastards who had renovated the bar. We joined the squadron in Turkey and did not return to Lakenheath until late in June, but that’s a story for another time. The heroics of “The Magnificent Six” (John Overlock and Mike Cummings

are the only others I remember for certain) went unrecognized, even after we modestly wrote ourselves up for a “Presidential Detachment Citation.” Still treasured however, is the coveted ‘67 Libyan Campaign Ribbon we six designed…six dead flies on a field of sand! ☺

Young Captain Hermes. One of “The

Magnificent Six” who successfully defended our vital U.S. interests at

Wheelus AB, Libya, during the Six Day War of 1967.

Although the 1967 war was over, and near normalcy would return to Wheelus, the seeds of revolution had been sown. And, unsuspected by anyone at the time, the days had become numbered for USAFE‘s storied consolidated gunnery camp of yore. But that’s another story. Interestingly, it’s already been published in The Intake, and you can read Bob Fizer’s “Last Call for Wheelus” in Issue Two, p. 17. Call this another coincidence, “back to the future!” Ed.

25

By Ed Haerter

LIVING ON BORROWED TIME: Near Fatal Encounter with “The Hunter,” Fate!

Two articles in the 18th issue of "The Intake" triggered my thoughts back to a night close air support mission I flew in Vietnam. The first was the ANG “C” models in PACAF article, the other was the wing box failure story.

Ed checked out in the Hun in ’62 at Luke and was one of the first to go direct to

Thuds after graduation. He later chose to take the TWA/ANG career route,

starting with the 174th TFS and spent several years

back in the Hun, including a year at Phu Cat, before switching to tankers with

the Illinois ANG.

On the night of Aug 22, 1968, Mike McLean and I, both stationed at Phu Cat with the 174th TFS out of Sioux City, Iowa, were scrambled off alert twice in "C" models for close air support missions in support of a Special Forces camp under heavy attack in "I" Corps, right up against the DMZ. Armament was the standard alert "soft load" of 2 finned napes, two M117 high drags, and four guns loaded with mixed HEI and API 20mm. The first flight was uneventful, with quite a lot of tracer fire coming down from the hills during our deliveries, but no hits on us. On the second scramble, ground fire intensified significantly. I had just finished with my last strafe pass, and right after easing off the "G's" from the pullout, and starting to climb, I felt a distinct thunk on the aircraft, and told Mike that I'd been hit. The aircraft started to fly erratically, just kind of wallowing. Mike looked me over to see if he could see anything, but it was very dark and all he had was a flashlight. We got feet-wet and continued back to Phu Cat, after deciding that the problem was most probably just a loose sway brace on one of the fuel tanks. We discussed jettisoning them, but decided against it because of our uncertainty. When we got back to Phu Cat, it was overcast and raining, so we had to use GCA to land, something we didn't like to do because they'd put a couple of guys into the hills south of the base. The landing and de-arm were normal, but I convinced the alert crew chief to change out the aircraft because of the strange way it had been flying. As usual with that kind of write-up, I got the normal, "The only problem is the connection between the seat and the stick" look, but he did it anyway. We cocked the new aircraft, and I forgot the incident as I looked forward to getting off alert in the morning. At about 9 AM, I was just finishing my second or third beer, when one of the maintenance officers came up to my hootch and told me that they wanted to see me on the flightline. I was still wearing my grubby flight suit, had a day's growth of beard, and was tired and not in a very good mood about being bothered. When we got to the flight line, I was amazed to see a large number of people, including a bunch of colonels and one civilian, gathered around #972. The civilian was a North American tech rep who'd flown in from Saigon, and he was talking to the DCM. The DCM asked him if it would be possible to one-time-fly the aircraft to Taiwan for a new wing, and the tech rep told him, "Colonel, I wouldn't taxi that frigging thing to the end of the runway!" One of the maintenance sergeants motioned to me to join him under the wing. He showed me where they'd pulled off a panel to expose the front spar. It was cracked all of the way through, and the remnant of a dud 23mm shell was laying next to the wing panel on the ground. At that point, the tech rep came over to me and asked if I was the pilot who had last flown the aircraft. When I said yes, he said, "Captain, you have to be the luckiest SOB I've ever seen. I just got done

talking to our engineers at the factory, and none of them could understand why the wing had not broken off." He asked me, "How far did you fly the aircraft after it was hit?" When I said a couple of hundred miles, he just laughed. It seems like all of the things that happened during and after the time I was hit had been in my favor. First, I wasn't pulling any "G's." Second, we flew straight home with no hard control movements. Third, I hadn't jettisoned the tanks, and last of all, and probably most important, the weather prevented us from doing a 360 overhead landing pattern. The two “G” break would probably have pulled the wing off. The aircraft never got fixed. It was cannibalized for parts and left at Phu Cat. One of our crew chiefs, Dick Westbrook, removed the stick grip for me, and I still have it. It continually reminds me that Fate is, indeed, the hunter! ◘

It’s coincidental that Allen Strasser’s account of the “PACAF Cs” and John Schulz’s tragic story of Clyde Carter’s untimely death due to Hun wing box failures were in the same issue, and interesting that they would stimulate a story like this so quickly. But it’s not surprising, because this overlap of history clearly placed the ANG pilots, whose C-models were subject to those same failures as the Regular’s D/F-models, among the Hun drivers who were, “Uniquely, and for that brief and terrible time, to quote Pericles,‘ in the hands of the gods,’” as Schulzie so aptly put it. Ed.

26

Super Sabre Snapshots…and Other Important Imagery

This department provides a venue for stand-alone imagery of note, or images with connections to other articles where space for supporting photos was limited. The first image selected for this issue is somewhat related to the photo of three guys in partial pressure suits in this department of the last issue. The second selection relates to the Hun and Automobile collection started in this department of Issue 14. This time it’s a classic T-Bird. Ed.

George Demers was one of the first to respond to Shaun Ryan’s request for sending in more “…of your favorite Hero Pictures for the TWWW dept.” When I first saw it, I thought he was responding to the “three guys in partial pressure suits” we knew little about shown in this space in the last issue. But no! When I called George to get more info on his favorite picture, I learned he had actually missed seeing this department, for reasons I didn’t ask him about! In any case, we thinkt it a MUST to explain the background about this amazing picture. It was taken by the Tyndall AFB PA Office on 4 Oct. ’64, where George and two other volunteers were flying some very-high-altitude tests against SAC U-2s. During that activity, George set an unofficial Hun altitude record of 73,000’. See his SYC story in Issue 13. George says the only mods on the A-model were a C-band radar and in-cockpit cameras, the combination of which allowed the testers to verify the probability of AIM-9 kills on the high-flying U-2. Being ADC guys at the time, they wore the bright orange flight suits over the MC-4A partial pressure suits and he still has his Chamber Training Card, certifying him good to 70,000’, signed by Capt. William L. Nicks of the 4756th Physiological Training Flight. Thanks for the picture, George, and “the rest of the story!”

We’ve had pictures of Huns with a ’62 TR-1, a ’65 Rover 300L, and a ‘71 Corvette Sting Ray. Now comes, via SSS’r Don Rebtoy, a ‘57 Ford T-Bird, appropriately with a real Thunderbird bird (the #6, opposing solo Hun of Bob Beckel, in point of fact). This image was on the front cover of the National Parts Depot’s Parts & Accessories Catalog, 2010 Edition, for 1955-1957 Thunderbird Cars. The copyrighted image was created by Tom Foglyano, and ouruse of it is courtesy of National Parts Depot and the National Museum of the USAF. In retirement, Don keeps busy restoring old cars and is a member of the Phoenix, AZ, Chapter of the National Thunderbird (car) Club, hence his knowledge and use of National Parts Depot catalogues in his avocation. He presently has 14 old cars and trucks in various states of reconditioning. Don says he likes old airplanes and cars, but his budget rules out being in business for both. The image provided by Mr. Schmidt, owner of National Parts Depot, will also appear in a coming issue of the Phoenix Chapter’s newsletter. If you need old car parts,see National Parts Depot’s website at this URL:

www.npdlink.com.

◘ TEN-HUT! ITAZUKE AFTER BURNER REUNION — Sep. 12-15, Reno, NV. Wed: Arrive, sign in, hospitality suite, dinner. Thur: bus to Lake Tahoe, banquet at hotel. Fri: bus to Air Races, lunch & dinner at hangar. Sat: depart. Hotel — Silver Legacy: Deal rate is $94 plus tax and fees; res phone 800-687-8733 and code is IAB912. Nearby Alternate Hotel: Circus Circus: res (800) 648-5010. Jo Ann and Bob Dickerson have sent me the funds that we saved from other reunions, $3388.91, that we will use this year, so there is no reunion fee and we will collect additional money only if needed. Such a deal! Contact Bob and Debie Spielman, 250 River Bend Dr., Reno, NV 89523, (775) 560-2406, bobspielman@yahoo.com.

27

By: Jim Quick

“Throw A Nickel On The Grass, Save A Fighter Pilot’s Ass.” — The Movie!

Those quoted words, immortalized in a ballad sung by fighter pilots in drinking establishments since the Korean War, embody mutual respect, express wishes for good fortune, and emote the spirit of camaraderie amongst fighter pilots, a now fading occupation, thanks to drone warfare. Those words are also the title to a movie, produced, directed, funded and presented by Gail Harvard “Willie” Wilson, III, to the 401st TFW fighter pilots, at Torrejon AB, in 1968. Here’s the story of how that movie came to be, and how to get a copy of it.

Willie was a fighter pilot in the 307th TFS “Stingers” during the time the movie was conceived and used with great effectiveness. The 401st Wing Commander, Col. Sanford K. Moats, had the Wing Safety pukes launch a squadron competition, tasking each of the three squadrons to come up with a monthly wing safety meeting program. So, every three months, the 307th had to come up with something better than the other guys. There was a

prize, but during my interview for this story, Willie couldn’t remember exactly what it was. (This tour of duty in the 401st TFW led up to Willie’s USAF drumming out, but that’s another story.)

“Wee Willie” Wilson

Willie came up with the idea for a movie, and over about four months, recorded on Super 8mm film the efforts of an extensive cast of fellow fighter pilots (and wives) in portraying “Captain Hero” and his antithesis, “Captain Nurd,” during a typical day in the life of a fighter pilot. The names suggest the plot, which, as Willie relates, “tells the story of how we were in those days.” The movie takes us through a normal flying day for two squadron pogues. We follow them into the briefing routine, through PE, out to the aircraft (Super Sabres, of course), inflight, and afterwards, and, naturally, to the bar. It stars two real squadron fighter pilots, exhibiting two different approaches to “how we do things around here.” This highly acclaimed movie won the Wing Safety Award, which was presented to Willie. He beat out all the other squadrons. “Throw a Nickel on the Grass” was filmed at Torrejon, Spain, and Adana, Turkey. Willie related that it took so long because the wing and squadron were often deployed, and the “actors” had a hard time getting to the “studio” for filming. All of the scenes with Frank Gioco building a Super Sabre for a range mission were shot in Adana. The bar scenes were at Willie and Gay’s house. Other scenes were filmed at the squadron and in the Spanish countryside. This film is a piece of history. It not only shows a lot of neat footage of the Hun, but it shows us, as we were then, doing what was important, i.e., flying jets while trying not to bust our collective fannies. The film stars names we all know: Frank Gioco, as mentioned above, who didn’t need a script for his part; Carl Granberry, Susan Olson (Miss Arizona and 4th runner-up for Miss America, 1964), Jim and Mercedes Rinehart, with script/screen adaptation by Don May. Jan Learmonth provided artistic written credits. After the film debut at the wing safety meeting, Willie was summoned to the Wing Commander’s office to personally show it to the wing staff. In relating this story, Willie said it was the first time he had ever been summoned to HQ for anything other than an ass chewing or Article 15. Here’s a few loose frames from the production to give you an idea of what we’re dealing with here, starting with some of the credits after the opening title frame (not shown).

If you know Frank and Carl, you know that they were both born to be cast by Willie in the starring roles. Willie, no doubt, cast Susan for the same reason. The show starts with Capt. Hero doing everyday fighter pilot things…perfectly. After several minutes of boring “perfection,” Producer/Director Willie hones in on Capt. Nurd, and develops the character based on the true-to-life qualities that only Willie himself could have conceived…perfectly.

28

Having exceeded his normal massive quota of booze and broads at the O’ Club the previous night, Nurd sleeps in, completely missing Hero’s perfect briefing, and starts playing catch-up. Naturally, he violates just about every safety rule you can imagine, seeming surprised when pressurized JP-4 gushes out when he inadvertently opens the manual drop tank filler cap, just before he starts his interior inspection of the inner workings and hidden mechanisms of the J57 itself….

Impossibly, Nurd manages to navigate through the engine and exits the afterburner section in a cloud of smoke. The high jinks continue till he finally gets airborne, then crashes and burns, eventually arriving, mostly dead, beside the proverbial Korean waterfall, and is seen no more. Reenter Capt. Hero: After his perfectly safe flight, he is joyfully reunited with the perfectly beautiful Princess Susan, and they move on to a perfectly safe future together and live happily ever after. You get the drift of the movie now, right? The closing scene shows Princess Susan throwing a nickel on the grass for poor ol’ Capt. Nurd. Fade to black…. Willie’s movie, all 32 minutes of it, has been reproduced from the original film onto DVD. It’s not Blue Ray, HD, 3D, or anything very fancy. But, given the original’s technology, it is a truly enjoyable half hour of Hun history, in color, made by another real original, Willie Wilson himself. You really need to get a DVD for yourself, and your progeny. They never believed your war stories, but with this movie to show those days of yore, you can now validate your bona fides. Copies of the DVD are available from me. I’m reproducing them and sending them out to anyone who wants to buy one. All the profits go to the Friends of the Super Sabre (FSS), in furtherance of establishing an F-100 Super Sabre Museum. The cost is deductible if you think you can get away with it (the FSS is a not-for-profit 501(c)(3) organization). I’m doing this on my own, so even in this day and age of electronic magic, use the U. S. Postal Service to send me a check for $12, and I’ll send you the movie. ($9.50 goes to the FSS and the he rest covers my reproduction/packaging and mailing costs.) Send your request and check to 7 Palomar Rd., Placitas, NM 87043. If you have questions, call me in ABQ at (505) 350-3996.

I’ll end this little vignette by saying to Willie, thanks for the thousands of hours of mirth and merriment (when we flew together), and I will treasure your sharing, with me and lots of others, the many memories of fighter pilots, their stories, legends, and lies told at bars around the world. I wish I had written them down. Let me close this with the last refrain from “Nickel….”

Willie Wilson One of a kind!

Jim Quick

Friend of Willie.

"So here's a nickel on the grass to you, my friend, and your spirit, enthusiasm, sacrifice and courage—but most of all to your friendship. Yours is a dying breed, and when you are gone, the world will be a lesser place."

This fundraising initiative of Jim’s is a good example of creative thinking on the part of SSS folks who are also FSS members. Good work, Jim. Ed.

29

By Harry Brown

My “One-Oh-Wonder” — Honoring a Hun Workhorse

My 101 was a real workhorse, and on 5 Feb 1971, I flew her on her 5,000th hour, having just completed 29 consecutive combat missions without a grounding write-up or abort. Not too shabby for a 12 ½ year-old fighter, originally designed to last only 1,500 hours. The base “rag” and “Stars and Stripes” published articles with well-deserved high praise for her crew chief, Sgt. Bob Guier.

North American Aviation F-100D 56-3101 began her Air Force career with the 474th TFW at Cannon AFB, NM in 1957. Although assigned to the 429th TFS, she soon became the steed of the Wing DO and wore the colors of all four squadrons in the wing. Prior to assignment to the 612th TFS, 35th TFW, at Phan Rang Air Base (AB), RVN, she served with the 3rd TFW. In the fall of 1971, the 612th TFS assigned “101” to me and she was “my bird” for my entire second tour in SEA. She didn’t need a name on her nose; it was prominently displayed on her tail: “Very Sexy ONE-OH-WONDER.” Beginning in Nov, 1970, the wing began flying a higher percentage of its missions into Cambodia and Laos. The interdiction missions in Laos involved supply storage areas and road/ford cuts, and naturally drew heavy AAA fire. To counter this AAA, flights of three or four Huns had one aircraft loaded with CBU-24s. But, due to the criticality of release altitude with the timed fuses, numerous dud drops occurred. This, in turn, precipitated a “can’t do it unless you’ve done it before” policy, so certain pilots were designated “CBU droppers.” I was tagged as one of those. Eventually, we began receiving the radar fuses, but the tag remained. One of the more memorable mission I flew as a CBU Dropper was into Laos on 13 Jan 1971, to once again cut fords on a river winding through a mountainous valley on a path that looked just like a dog’s head. Numerous strikes were fragged in late afternoon and all previous flights had received heavy 23mm AAA. Remaining high while my flight began their bomb runs, I spotted numerous muzzle flashes and rolled in. The gunners then turned their attention to me, and I observed many tracers flying past my airplane in the late afternoon shadows. Releasing the CBUs and jinking in my pull out, I looked back and observed the last of the bomblets detonating. And just then—Kaboom—there arose a huge secondary explosion! All remaining flights reported no AAA fire.

In the early morning hours of 7 Mar 1971, I led a flight flying 101 on the first air strike by 35th TFW Huns supporting “Operation Lam Son 719.” Due to the long flight to the Tchepone area of Laos, crew chiefs and armorers had been positioned at Phu Cat AB to recover and turn our Huns. After striking our target, we recovered there, refueled, rearmed, intel briefed and launched again to Laos, with recovery back at Phan Rang. In the F-100 section of the book, “The American Fighter Plane,” (Williams; Metro Books, 2002) there is a photo of 101 re-armed with finned napalm. The photo caption states the above date and location. These shuttle missions continued for the entire Lam Son 719 operation.

Crew Chiefs like Sgt. Bob Guier were integral to the fast pace of successful combat operations.

Rotate the page to the right to see the “Dog’s Head.” Yup!

The 35th TFW flew its last combat missions in SEA on 25 Jun 71, and on that day, 101 and I flew the last Laotian F-100 combat mission and scored the last NVA truck kills in Laos. (See SYC, page 7.) Unfortunately, 101 did not escape unscathed during my year with her. Ground fire found her body on at least two occasions, but never when her lover was at the controls. She had a very close call when a rather large caliber round went through a wing spar, but fortunately it went right between the two hydraulic lines running along that spar. She survived the war and went on to continue serving with the Massachusetts Air National Guard, eventually giving her life for her country as a QF-100.

30

By chance, 101’s crew chief, Sgt. Bob Guier, and I were reunited a few years ago. Bob is now a registered nurse and lives here in the Phoenix area. We get together occasionally to shoot “sporting clays” or toss a few brews.

Having always maintained that those hard working guys did not receive the recognition they deserved, nor the proper thanks for letting us have fun in their airplanes, I decided to correct that for Bob. I ordered two custom built

Hun models in 101’s correct markings. We had Bob and his wife over for dinner a few months ago, and he was pleasantly surprised with the model and a custom made Randall “Airman” knife that I also presented to him. It was an equal pleasure for me to present these gifts to him for his part in keeping me and other pilots safe and alive. For many years before this recent presentation, I had a desire to have a painting of 101 to hang in my computer room above my desk. Finally, while attending an aviation convention in Phoenix, AZ, in 2005, I met an artist, C. S. “Chad” Bailey, who specializes in creating depictions of all sorts of military hardware. After hashing out the details [meaning picture design and layout, price haggling, etc], we entered an agreement to create the painting of my dreams, and several months later, “One-Oh-Wonder” arrived, to my delight. It was intended to capture the glory of the Hun in action on our flight near that “dog’s head” on a river in Laos. Chad lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, and welcomes folks to his website: www.warmachineart.com. He may also be contacted by phone at 801-699-2917. As you can see, the painting turned out great, and I’m glad it all worked out so well. — Harry ◘

An older Harry Brown (right) and his equally older crew

chief, Bob Guier, with a pair of “One-Oh-Wonder” models.

The Rest of the Story About the Front Cover Art Harry originally sent this photo for scale along with a hand-held camera snapshot of just the framed painting WAY back in October of 2008. Harry said, “As normal, the pictures

[inserted in the email] don’t do the painting justice.” He further offered to send a full sized photo of just the painting via CD or DVD. That was shortly after we started the Hun Fine Art Collection introduced on interior pages of Issues Four and Five and published Issue Six with our first Hun Fine Art featured on a front cover. Well, I didn’t get around to replying to Harry’s email, and although he and several other SSS’rs sent in some really nice personal Hun Fine Art pieces, we got so wrapped up with Hun Fine Art by professionals for front covers (five of the first 16 issues) that we never ran any of the other personal fine art pieces, even on interior pages, until now, that is. Here’s the story that needs to be told. Months, yea years passed, and Harry waited patiently to see his beloved One-Oh-Wonder on the front cover…to no avail. Finally, at the 2011 Reunion, I think it was, Harry and

I met in the Hospitality Room, and after renewing our acquaintance from A-7D days at D-M, Harry put it to me as to why he hadn’t seen his painting on the front cover.

Harry Brown and the long-dreamed-of painting of his

beloved warhorse, Hun “One-Oh-Wonder.”

By this time, I didn’t even remember his painting, but I promised I’d dig it up and get back to him with an explanation of why we hadn’t used it in all this time. I can’t find any emails with my first answer, but I did investigate, and I think we initially talked things over by phone. The gist of my lame excuse was that we hadn’t used any private or commissioned paintings at all, since we discovered the professional “big boys” and their works. But, I continued, it was high time to start showing off those pieces of our growing Hun Fine Art Collection, and we’d start again with his—on an interior page.... Whoa! Harry breaks hard into me, saying, “…with all due respect, I don't think ‘101’ should be ‘squeezed’ into the inside of the next issue... She should be ON THE FRONT COVER!” We arm wrestled over this point for a while, but after obtaining some high quality, professional photographs of the one-of-a-kind painting and making some color corrections, I finally “saw the light,” and after a one issue delay from my first promise to publish, we’re mighty proud to present C. S. Bailey’s vision of Harry Brown’s One-Oh-Wonder. It’s well worth the wait. Thanks for your persistence, Harry. Ed.

31

By John J. Schulz (Asst. Editor, The Intake)

BEYOND COINCIDENCE: The Making of a Back Cover for The Intake

Actually, “the making” was a series of emails and coincidences that probably should be described in the “Would You Believe It…and Other Amazing Stories” department. But because it doesn’t directly involve Huns, Medley says to make it a stand-alone story. So, here goes…. The tale begins when Jack Doub forwarded a lovely photograph he had come by on the web to a group of his close friends, including me. It showed a twin-engine transport jet laying a neat looking pair of contrails over a sea of grey clouds. Jack’s brief comment about the pic was simply, “This is one of those photos that answers the question only a pilot can explain when folks ask, ‘Why do you do that?’” The artful beauty of the twin contrails immediately brought to mind a poem I wrote many years ago (after my first operational Hun assignment, a combat tour at Bien Hoa 1967-68) during my three-year tour with the 48th TFW at RAF Lakenheath. Every third month we did month-long TDYs to Aviano, Italy, or Cigli, near Izmir, Turkey. Many of you “know the drill.” The one constant in many of those long, boring high flight commutes each way across France was that we were pulling contrails behind us, and all around us were all the other “scratches” at various angles and altitudes across that busy stretch of airspace. After nearly two decades of writing poetry, those contrails inspired me to try one of my first experiments with somewhat “freer forms and structures,” thus skirting the edges of “free verse,” a form I tend to hold in curled-lip contempt. (I side with Robert Frost, who once said, “Free verse is cheating; it’s like playing tennis with the net down.”) The resulting poem was Scratches on the Sky. It is closer than anything I’ve ever done to being the dreaded “free verse.” “Scratches” turned out pretty well, although it was never published…until now. Here’s how that came about. My thoughts about the picture Jack had sent went out in a quick email reply to him with CCs to several other close friends: “Gents, and especially Medley, here is a suggestion. Perhaps a poem of mine fits nicely with this picture, or some other with lovely contrails. I called it ‘Scratches on the Sky.’ If I could figure out how to transfer the photo onto one page, it would be a complete picture and poem. Can't, sorry; so, herewith, it is.” And the poem completed the email. Only 27 hours later, an email reply from Medley went out to all the addressees in my email. Cryptically, it said simply, “How does this grab ya, Schulzie? A beginning to play with; example #1. Maybe a back cover for Intake Issue 19, huh? — Medley” His proffered attachment, a first go at a possible back cover, got my attention right away. (See thumbnail of it at right for the concept.) I immediately replied: “Medley: WOW, that's beautifully laid out. Makes for a rather exciting back cover, too, now that I see it. (Pride of authorship aside, it really brings the poem to life!) Many thanks. I think you are moving into the genius range for layouts!!! Best, j” But the best was yet to come. Medley replied that, although Jack’s picture was nice, we might be able to find an even better contrail picture. Something without the transport—something more “fighter pilot-ish!” I agreed. Two days later, Medley sent another cryptic message saying, “As the eye doctor says during your exam, ‘... Which is better, #1...or #2?’ Attached is #2, a USAF photo, I believe. It might not get any better than this. — Medley” And it doesn’t get any better. See the back cover for full effect (or a thumbnail of concept #2 at right).

My reply, same day: “Medley, GOOD LORD...THAT’S A FANTASTIC PHOTO! It shows what I wrote: a. ‘white-blue sky along the seams of earth’ (So, I got THAT right); b. ‘galvanize, blue-black’ sky straight above us into infinity and space (Check, again!); c. ‘Scratches…’at every angle’ (Wow, amen to that, looks like 2 v 2 in a dogfight about to be joined); d. ‘...the far off contrails cross...’ (Check, they be doin' that); e. none of these ‘collide’... (but very clearly, #2 in the two-ship pulls up sharply to avoid colliding with lead's contrail…so, got that pretty close to right). In sum, you made my poem look more like a journalistic description of ALL that was in that picture, save for an air-to-air collision, which the poem says, ‘ain't happened....so far.’ You are a bloody Genius! It perfectly brings the words to life.” Medley said we needed to find out a little more about the circumstances of the picture. After further Google research, he informed me (and the others CC’d on this string of emails) that, “This official USAF picture by Staff Sgt. Kevin L. Bishop is from Alaska, USA: ‘Two Soviet MiG-29 aircraft en route to an air show in British Columbia, Canada, are intercepted by F-15 Eagle aircraft of the 21st Tactical Fighter Wing. The Soviet MiG-29s are, for the first time, traveling to participate in the August 1989, Abbotsford, B.C., Canada, International Airshow. The USAF F-15 Eagle interceptors actively guarding North American and U.S. airspace are with the 21st Tactical Fighter Wing, at Elmendorf AFB, Alaska.’”

32

So, the making of the back cover started with Jack Doub coincidently sending a “nice picture” to his friends and co-workers of The Intake’s staff. Coincidently also, I recalled my ancient “free verse” poem and offered the concept of a poem on a picture. (Coincidently as well, Contributing Photo Editor Wally Mason had done a similar back cover for Issue Six. That experience is how Medley knew how to do this one so quickly and expertly.) But WAIT! There’s more that really puts all this WAY BEYOND COINCIDENCE. Read on. When Jack Doub finally got his copy of the #2 attachment open (Medley had to resend to him for some reason), he broke right into the dialogue with the following, double dog down, amazing coincidence. Here’s his first reply to his first view of the real back page cover: “Guys...I wonder if that could be a mission I flew on back in the '90s. “Here's the deal, I was the program rep in AK for Flight International...we had two Lears (a 35 & 25 crammed with jamming gear and a chaff/clutter dispenser) based at Elmendorf for jamming/aggressor support vs the F-15s and the A-10s/F-16s at Eielson. Early one morning, we were fragged to go orbit just off Russian air space and advise the F-15 force when two MiG-29s approached—we could see their IFF. “We were orbiting above FL410 when the MiGs appeared, and we notified a huge force of Eagles just arriving over the western coast of AK. We fell in behind the two MiGs and flashed the '15s as they met for their rendezvous with the Russians, who were indeed en route to an airshow in Canada with refueling at Elmendorf. We took dozens of photos from above the gaggle and turned them over to USAF intel. “Interestingly enough, the wing entertained the Russian pilots—and their huge support transport crew—at the O’ Club, and later we got a little cockpit time in the MiGs. I still recall my impression of the '29: the cockpit looked like an early model F-105 and the metal work on the fuselage was awful! “Panels didn't fit, some looked like they'd been hammered into place, etc., etc. Not in the same league with the sleek sides of the F-15s at that time. Fascinating stuff, eh...? — Logan J,” Medley and I were blown away by this possibility. It just couldn’t be true. What were the odds? Astronomical! But Jack came back with this after checking his dates (remember, we knew the picture was taken in August of 1989). “Ah! Just noticed the ‘August, 1989’ date...and I was indeed in AK from '88 to '92, so that was indeed the same mission!! That was an interesting day. We ended the day by ‘shadowing’ a JAL 747, 2,000 feet below, toward ANC until we could drop off and make a max descent bomb run on the F-15 alert facility at King Salmon AFS, undetected until about 15 miles! As two Eagles (which were scrambled because of that pass) started their t/o roll, we went by the alert facility at about 50'...307 KIAS [the Lear's low altitude a/s limit due to bird-strike hazards]...rocking the wings like crazy! What a coinkydink, eh? — JD” Indeed, what a “coinkydink.” And that pretty much closes out our tale about the making of the back cover of this particular issue of The Intake. The coincidence of Jack sending a “nice picture,” through the coincidences of my ancient poem and an idea, and Medley’s coincidental find of a better, more “fighter pilot-ish” picture and construction of a back cover ends with the ultimate coincidence, i.e., how in God’s green Earth had my old combat squadron mate, Jack, actually “been there and done that,” on that August day. Talk about déjà vu! ◘

John says he first met me at Willy just before I graduated with my wings in Aug, ’63. Naturally, being the upper classman, I didn’t recall that till I first met Jack Doub in person at the first Hun reunion in ’07, and “re-met” John at the Dice hospitality suite where he recounted that Willy “first encounter” of ours. As it turned out, the three of us had been at Bien Hoa on overlapping tours, but the two Dicemen and I didn’t consciously cross paths there. Nevertheless, since then, when Jack and I convinced John to join The Intake staff as an Asst. Editor, we’ve covered lots of miles together in that professional association,

and developed/maintained close friendships while working through the development and publication of 15 more issues of the SSS’s journal. Who knows, maybe this long history and recent close working relationships had something to do with this making of a super back cover for The Intake? Naw... just way beyond coinkydinky! Ed.

John

Schulz

Medley

Gatewood Jack Doub

More on SSS Wall of Honor Airfoil — Cont. from page 3.

The URL to go direct to our new Wall of Honor page is http://www.supersabresociety.com/wallofhonor.htm. There you’ll find the complete story of the SSS Wall of Honor Airfoil, and links to help you get yourself registered, or to sponsor and register deceased SSS members or even non-SSS Hun Drivers who have flown west (this involves an extra step of getting them signed up to be “Posthumous Members” of the SSS at no cost). You’ll be pleased to learn that, in addition to the display of the honorees names on our airfoil, there is opportunity to submit an Honoree Profile, with a mini-bio and photo, to capture for all time the passion that your Honoree has/had for flight and space exploration. Each Honoree Profile will be accessible for online viewing on the Museum’s website so others can be inspired. What’s not to like: get involved! Ed.

33

34

Looking Ahead:

SSS Reunion 2013 Alert! If the 3rd time was the charm (and it was), what will the 4th

time be like? In any case, it will be at the-familiar Gold Coast Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, NV. Dates are 9-12 April 2013. For a head start, reserve those days on your planning calendars, now! Also, if you haven’t been to previous reunions, check out the spectacular Gold Coast at www.goldcoastcasino.com/. As usual, we suggest you whet your appetite for truly great SSS Reunions by reviewing the after-action reports for our first, second and third biennial bashes appearing in The Intake, Issues 4, 10, and 16, respectively. If you don’t have a copy of those issues, you can view them at the SSS Web site under the link that says “The Intake Journal.” The password for archived copies is the same as the membership list. If you don’t know it, ask one of the SSS Functional Contacts found on Page 35. The 2013 reunion will be similar to 2011, but with added attractions. As then, the Red Flag/Nellis Tour will include lunch on base and will be offered on both Wednesday and Thursday. The double tour capacity totals only 200, so sign up early to guarantee your slot(s). The Wednesday golf outing is switching to Silverstone Golf Club, the only private golf club in the northwest corridor of Las Vegas. Including practice facility, gourmet lunch, AND transportation, this round is a steal for the price. See http://silverstonegolf.com/. A major addition Wednesday is a ladies luncheon featuring the “Happy Hoofers,” a hot Vegas tap-dancing group. Another major addition on Thursday is a guided tour of Hoover Dam (details in work), the 8th man-made Wonder of the World! The banquet gala that evening features renowned SSS’r Bud Day as our speaker. You can double-down bet it’ll be a great one. Lastly, the popular “Afterburner Brunch” featuring Bill Hosmer’s “Marine Corps SOS,” on Friday morning is now an official function. So, plan on attending this gathering of SSS members and schedule your travel accordingly! An interactive Reunion Registration Form showing all scheduled events and fees is now available on the SSS website under the “Reunion” link at www.supersabresociety.com. Check it out early for a more complete run-down of reunion activities, and for your early planning purposes, even if you want to wait a while to register and pay. For those with internet capability, we encourage you to use the interactive form. IT WILL SAVE MANY, MANY HOURS OF PROCESSING TIME! Otherwise,and for those without internet capability, a copy of the Registration Form will be inserted in the Fall 2013 issue of The Intake. Just fill it in and send it in with your check. Both the Registration forms give you the Hotel Reservation Procedures, and please don’t forget that critical item! Again the F-86 Sabre Pilots Association Reunion overlaps a day with ours. That will provide folks who are members of both organizations another great opportunity to double up on “reunionizing,” rehashing and sundry happy hour activities. Ed.

Let the Good Times Roll—All Over Again!

Looking Ahead: SSS Board of Directors Election!

Pursuant to our revised bylaws approved by members last spring, it’s time for the biennial (that means every two years for those of us who are somewhat word challenged) election of the Vice-President and Director-at-Large (DAL) BoD members who must be either Charter or Regular members of the SSS. Therefore, the Executive Director (ED)/CEO hereby announces the beginning of the election and nomination cycle and has established a standing Election Committee (EC) chaired by Bill “Bullet” McDonald, with Phil Edsall and Jerry “Killer” Key as members, to support both the nomination and voting processes. ANY SSS member may suggest candidates, including themselves if eligible, to the CEO in writing (preferably by email) between 15 July 2012 and 31 August 2012. See page 35 for CEO contact info. The EC will vet all candidates for eligibility and their desire to serve and will assist bona fide candidates in preparing a one page nominee packet that should include a mini-bio and photo, and if the candidate desires it, a proposed campaign platform. After that, the EC will draw up a ballot of valid candidates for CEO approval. The nominee packets will be posted on our website after the nominating period ends, before the voting period begins. They will be provided to members without internet access along with their ballots (see below). Associate members are welcome to comment on the process and candidates but are not entitled to hold elected office or vote. The voting period will be 1 to 30 October, 2012. The EC will initiate the ballot process using, primarily, the “Survey Monkey” email software. Members with email may vote by simply replying to this official email. For members without email, the EC will send a paper ballot and the nominee packets via USPS mail. Those using USPS for voting will be responsible for ensuring accurate postal addresses.These ballots must be returned to the return address, postmarked NLT the voting closing date. The EC is responsible for receipt, counting, and reporting the voting results to the CEO and the BoD, which is responsible for officially disseminating the results to the nominees and membership. Newly elected Directors will assume office on 1 January 2013. The first formal meeting of the new BoD is presently scheduled for 9 April 2013 at the coming SSS reunion. The full SSS Election Policy and Processes now posted on the SSS web site under the Governance linkwas derived from and is nearly the same as the final report from the Election Review Committee that was appointed at the last reunion. — D. Clawson, ED

SSS & The Intake Functional Contacts SSS Operations, Members/Contacts Data, Reunions: Dewey Clawson, deweyclawson@hotmail.com, 611 Anderson Road, Enon Valley, PA 16120-1715, (724) 336-4273 (Executive Director/CEO). Dues, Money Matters: David Hatten, david@houseofhatten.com, (512) 261-5071 (CFO, Chief Financial Officer). The Intake/All Matters: R. Medley Gatewood, rgatewood@comcast.net,, (505) 293-8396 (Editor/Publisher, SSS Chief Information Officer, CIO). Hero Pix, Hun Photo Archives, Questions/Help: Shaun Ryan, f100plt@gmail.com, (520) 907-9775 (Photo Editor). SSS Toss-bombs, RIP Notifications: Les Frazier, supersabresociety@suddenlink.net, (512) 930-3066 (Founder). Call contacts for their snail mail address or mail your material to Name,

% Super Sabre Society, P.O. Box 341837, Lakeway, TX 78734. Note: The Intake – Journal of the Super Sabre Society is published three times per year. Mailings are planned for delivery (stateside) in mid-March, mid-July, and mid-November. If you don’t see yours by the end of the next full month, contact the Editor. It might be a simple address problem, or your dues status may be way overdue.

Back Cover Credits

The striking background is a USAF Photo taken by Staff Sgt. Kevin L. Bishop circa 1 Aug 1989, somewhere over Alaska. The overlaid poem “Scratches on the Sky” is by Asst. Editor John J. Schulz circa 1970 while he was assigned to the 48th TFW at RAF Lakenheath, U.K. The tale of how this agreeable back cover amalgam came about is itself worthy of a telling. Discover the amazing chain of coincidences that lead to the making of this “real keeper” of a back cover in Schulzie’s tale, page 32.

Parting Shots on Your Personal Contact Data and Dues

Remember to check your personal data at the SSS website. Current password reminder is “impolite, mixed company name used for the cone-shaped, nose section engine accessories cover at the front end of the J57; two words condensed to one, lower case.” If that name doesn’t come to mind, or you don’t have web access, give me a call at (505) 293-8396. If something’s wrong with your personal data, send the corrections to Dewey Clawson. If you owe dues, send the money direct to David Hatten via the Lakeway P.O. Box. Because $25 dues are payable on or before 1 January every year, it might be a good idea to remember that (and take care of it regularly). To do that, try putting the SSS on your Christmas Card List and include your check for $25 every year. “Works good and lasts a long time!”(Quoting the many Luke Hun academic IPs.)

***Have a great summer! Ed.***

35

Laughter-Silvered Wings

NOTAM: This is the seventh installment of the LSW “mini-department” in this space, featuring short, humorous “fun in the Hun” anecdotes. It alternates with “Fleagle.” We all have funny

yarns to share, so please get out your “wit” pens and send yours to our LSW Czar, Assistant Editor John J. Schulz, jjschulz@bu.edu, or to Intake Editor Medley Gatewood, rgatewood@comcast.net.

o-0-o Every time I think about the North Vietnamese takeover of the

South, and their eventual occupation of Phu Cat AB, I have to smile. Back in 1968-69 I was Assistant Ops with the 174th TFS, a Guard squadron attached to the 37th TFW at Phu Cat AB, RVN. All the Vietnam-based fighter squadrons had their own clubs in their respective hooch areas. The 355th "Icons," comprised chiefly of Guard pilots, had a unique practice. Every squadron pilot and visitor was required on entrance to the club to drop his pants and have his butt inked with fingerprint ink. He was then hoisted to the ceiling to leave his butt print there. To complete the artwork, he’d sign it with his name and home squadron. As I recall, this entitled you to one free drink. It wasn’t long before the whole ceiling was decorated with butt prints, including, I may add, that of the only female on base, 300-pound Marion the Librarian. Despite the regrets we all have that the North DID take over the South, I still can’t help but smile as I try to imagine the look on the face of the first NVA to walk into that bar, and what he and the second guy said as they stood trying to decide what the hell kind of art work this was, or what went on in that room. --Gene "Judge" Atkinson

☻ Q. How do you know if there is a fighter pilot at your party?

A: He'll tell you. Q: What's the difference between God and fighter pilots?

A: God doesn't think he's a fighter pilot. ☻

OK, Guys, get on the stick. We’ve all heard a hundred great radio calls and fun stories. Send them along ASAP. My supply is near empty. Don’t worry about length; getting to 300 words has been my job for 30 years. --JJS

Plan Ahead for Reunions

F-86 Sabre Pilots Association April 7 – April 9, 2013

Super Sabre Society

April 9 – April 12, 2013

Both events will be at the Gold Coast Hotel & Casino

Las Vegas, Nevada

Registration forms to fill in will be in the winter/fall issues of both the Sabre Jet

Classics magazine and The Intake journal and are available now on the web sites of both organizations. Block your schedules

NOW! And Register this winter/fall or sooner if you wish!!!