Highlights of 20+ Years in the U.S. Navy
Part 7: Hot-Tailing It in Heinemann's Hotrod!
CDR Davis
This article from ex-US Navy aviator - and now New Zealand Resident and AOPA (NZ) Member - Norm Davis, covers more of his experiences as a military pilot flying Heinemann's Hotrod (a.k.a. the Douglas A4 Skyhawk) on carrier operations in America and in South East Asia during the Vietnam War.
By Norm Davis, CDR USN
Orders
Nearing the completion of A-4 Skyhawk transition training, I received orders to Attack Squadron 195, the Dambusters. Since the squadron was due to be decommissioned, orders were modified to VA 192, the Golden Dragons. Shortly after joining VA 192, the decision to decommission VA 195 was rescinded and I was re-ordered to join them. Both squadrons were in the same airwing, Airwing 19. This airwing was attached to USS Oriskany.
Tora Tora Tora
While preparing to go to Vietnam, a friend notified me that the producer of Tora Tora Tora was looking for pilots with past experience in SNJs (Harvards) and ADs (Skyraiders) to fly in the movie. Several of us applied and were accepted. I flew an SNJ that was modified to look like a Zeke (Japanese Zero). We flew in the scenes depicting the launch from the carrier Akagi (Yorktown, actually!) and join up at dawn prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Airwing Workup
During workup for Vietnam, our squadron flew out of Lemoore to refresh carrier landings in the waters off of southern California. We conducted day and night carrier landings and flew practice strike operations with other squadrons in the airwing (CVW 19) using the Chocolate Mountain range in Arizona.
One incident that occurred during night carrier operations comes to mind. I was flight leader of a section and my radio failed. I had to pass the lead to my wingman, who then lead me down on a CCA to the ship. After he dropped me off on the ball, I continued the approach to touchdown. My hook skipped wires 2, 3, and 4 and I boltered. I turned downwind and made another attempt, flying a day pass. The hook skipped again. My fuel was getting low, and I made another pass with about 1600 lbs of fuel (it takes 800 lbs for each pass). When the hook skipped a third time, I was in trouble, so I pulled up and headed for Los Angeles International Airport, the lights of which I could see in the distance. I set the IFF to 7700 (Emergency, Nordo). I had 800 lbs and wasn't sure I could make it. While I was heading out, our squadron tanker intercepted me and flew in front of me, streaming the drogue. I plugged in with about 400 lbs and he transferred 2000 lbs. I pulled out and drew up alongside. Going back to the ship was not an option, and he signalled me to remain on his wing. He led me into Point Mugu Naval Weapons Station further up the California coast. He waved me off and I landed, with him following behind. We taxied in and got a room in the BOQ for the night - PLUS a 6-pack of beer each, which I shouted. Inspection of my aircraft revealed that it had a failed dashpot. The dashpot is a hydraulic oil-filled shock absorber that presses against the hook shaft to keep it from bouncing when it strikes the flight deck on landing. It was replaced and I flew back to the ship the next morning - to land without incident.
Norm Davis(l) in the Ready Room
More workups occurred, integrating the full airwing into an effective strike force. We flew practice "Alpha Strikes" (large numbers of aircraft) to the bombing range from the ship, in formations of up to 36 aircraft, dropping live ordnance and flying through a radar range that simulated SAM missile launches. The range assessed our ability to "evade" simulated missiles and still maintain formation integrity. Other squadrons provided aggressors to attack our formations. These were thwarted by our CAP (Combat Air Patrol) F-4 Phantoms. We also flew in grotty weather under direction of airborne EW aircraft. It was quite mind-boggling to be flying in cloud, unable to see the target visually and then roll in and dive on a heading directed by the EW crew, to break out of the cloud and find the target in the gun sight.
Combat
Planning for combat strike missions initially required about 3 hours for each hour of flight. The idea was "you plan the mission and fly the plan" - that way, if anything untoward happened, you were ready for it. My first combat flight was to fly in to South Vietnam just below the DMZ, fly west and then north along the border between North Vietnam and Laos to a pass in the mountains called Mu Ghia Pass. This was where the North Vietnamese were moving their supplies down to South Vietnam along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. My target was an anti-aircraft site in the jungle next to a bend in a river. Because it was camouflaged, I was briefed to dive-bomb a point in the jungle marked by the river-bend and a hilltop. I carried 4 x 500 lb bombs and planned to make one run, dropping all in that run. There were 2 of us in section and we flew in at about 25,000 ft. We found the area and set up to make one run each, from different directions. I rolled in to a 45° dive and, as I passed 17,000 ft, I noted some white puffs of cloud appearing off of my left wingtip. My first reaction was, "that's pretty". Then I realized what they were. I concentrated on the gunsight and could see bursts of light in among the trees where I was headed. I continued down and released at about 5,000 ft AGL and 500 kts, pulling off to the right, rolling inverted and pulling down towards the ground and then back up again - jinking, as it's called. My lead made his run, but the firing had stopped. We headed back to the ship. There was no sense of fear during the mission, although I admit to some apprehension before taking off. Combat flights followed similar patterns for the next 6 months. We would fly 2 or 3 missions a day for 4- 5 days running and then have a stand-down day to relax and consider safety-of- flight issues. We called them "Live Days", for no one was trying to kill us then.
Sidewinder
Many of our missions were road and bridge interdiction at night. Road recce was done with one plane low and the other high. The low plane would fly random figure-8s along the road, crossing it briefly at 60° -90° angles, looking for trucks. If he found something he would call in the high aircraft to strike it and the roles would then be reversed. The procedure was the same, day or night. At night we could tell where the mountains were, because they were blacker than the sky. Every once in a while we would see a light on the ground and attempt to bomb it. The squadron assigned certain pilots to a strictly night attack role for a period of time so that they would maintain proficiency. We were also provided with sidewinders that had been modified to seek light rather than infra red, and we were asked to evaluate them in combat. They were pretty difficult to use.
We developed a method of bore sighting a sidewinder to the gunsight by lining up behind an aircraft after takeoff, turning the sidewinder on and then moving the pipper around until it growled when it sensed the taillight of the lead aircraft. At that point we would mark the gunsight with a china-marking pencil (yellow dot). That would be the pipper for aiming the sidewinder in a dive. In tiger country, when a light was found on the ground, we would roll into a dive and then hold the yellow pipper on the light until we got a steady growl from the sidewinder. The growl had to be steady and strong before firing the missile, otherwise it would go ballistic and miss the target. This could cause target fixation, where the pilot concentrates so much on the target that he forgets his altitude and flies into the ground. One night, I was on such a mission and we found a light in the jungle. I rolled into a 45° dive and worked to get the pipper on the light. I was motoring down at 500 kts, the altimeter was unwinding rapidly, and the sidewinder would growl-stop, growl-stop, growl! On the final strong growl, I fired the missile and pulled out hard. It hit the target almost immediately and I saw trees and hills around me as I climbed out. I had flown through the burst. On return to the ship there were only a few small marks on the fuselage. After that, if the missile didn't growl strongly the first time, the dive would be aborted, with plenty of altitude left. At the pass a few nights later, another pilot knocked a D-8 Bulldozer off the road.
Close Air Support
Close air support of troops on the ground was another mission - often after launching for an assigned target. One night I flew wing on our squadron skipper. We had been assigned to a FAC, but he directed us to the DMZ, where a fire- fight was going on. Our troops on the south side were about to be overwhelmed by North Vietnamese regular troops crossing over from the DMZ. We were loaded with 2.75" rocket pods and 20 rom gunpods. As we came up on the assigned frequency, we heard bedlam in the background. We could also see tracers going north and south, intermingling with each other. It sounded pretty desperate. The contact told us to fire from south to north, starting at the southern end of the tracers. He was calling us in on his own position! They were being overrun. I thought, that happens only in the movies. Right!? I personally felt horrible about doing it and requested verification - he replied "DO IT! We are heads down, waiting". We made a shallow run, wingtip to wingtip and fired all of the rockets together at about 1500 ftAGL. The aircraft shuddered slightly and we pulled off in opposite directions to rejoin south of the DMZ. The fire- fight continued, but we were not called in again.
Rolling Thunder
An extremely impressive sight when flying over Vietnam at night was seeing "rolling thunder" missions. We would be warned to steer clear of certain target areas. While flying outside of those areas, we would still watch what was happening. Without any warning, road intersections would light up with massive explosions. B-52s at 35,000 ft had dropped their bombs, precisely in the pattern of the intersections.
Standard ARM
When photo F-8 Crusaders went into North Vietnam to photograph targets for bomb damage assessment, they required an escort to suppress the many SAM sites in the areas. A missile, called the Standard ARM (Anti Radiation Missile), would be loaded-two to anA-4- and the A-4 pilot would brief with the Crusader pilots, planning to fly over and slightly behind them with missiles ready. There was a radar receiver and display in the aircraft which would indicate when a missile site came up and was looking for aircraft (singer LOW). It would also indicate when a missile that had been launched, had come under radar control, because the sweep would increase its warble-sound (singer HIGH). A scope on the panel would also point in the direction of the radar source. With a standard ARM, we would ready it whenever a singer LOW warble was heard, turn toward the site, diving down to 17,000 ft from about 25,000 ft. When Singer HIGH was noted, we would continue the launch profile, pulling up to about 30° nose high to launch the missile. It would then fly a trajectory coming straight down on the missile sight. The North Vietnamese soon learned a counter to this. They would launch their missiles without radar and then try to catch the missile in flight with singer HIGH. That way they would avoid being detected until the last minute and might get a kill before the ARM could get them. They would then shut down and, if an ARM had been launched, it would go ballistic, and miss.
CAP Tanker
One mission that was not too popular among the A-4 fraternity was night tanker for the CAP (combat air patrol). During strike operations and whenever the ship was in a threat area fighter aircraft would be sent up to just outside the SAM radius of Haiphong. They would double-cycle and a A-4 tanker would be sent up to fly a racetrack pattern in their vicinity so they could refuel and stay on station with plenty of fuel in event of a MiG contact. That was fine for them, but we A-4s were essentially unarmed and sitting ducks. The idea was that the fighters would protect us - YEAHHH RIGHT! I had my own ideas about what I would do if a MiG ever came after me while they were involved elsewhere. I planned to jettison the buddy store and split-S turn down to the deck. It was pretty hairy sitting up there in a race track pattern watching the lights of Russian ships going into and out of Haiphong harbor and trying to spot any MiGs coming from the mainland. It never happened and I was always there to refuel the fighters. In fact, I think I gained a little respect from those arrogant jocks for hangin' it out up there for them. They always seemed pleased to see me and take my fuel.
G-suit Fitting
One night, I was launched with a center fuel drop tank and 6,500 lb bombs, 3 per wing. Straight after the catapult, my radio and lights went out. I carried an emergency flashlight, which could be held in the mouth to illuminate the instrument panel, so I used it to climb out straight ahead. While this was going on, I felt intense heat on my left thigh and I noticed the cockpit was filling with smoke. I thought the aircraft was on fire. I considered ejecting, but the night was black, I still had control and I didn't relish the idea of the ship bearing down on me at 30 kts while continuing to launch aircraft. The heat was steady, no increase. I turned downwind and decided I would get the LSD's attention by flying low alongside the ship and then making a day pass to get aboard. I jettisoned the center fuel tank and dumped down to 2,500 lbs of fuel. I still had the bombs and you do not ever land back aboard with bombs. Where to get rid of them? I decided to jettison them on "safe" as I flew alongside the BSD - this would surely get his attention. It did.
I then turned downwind and set up a day pattern. Aircraft recovery had started by then, and I sandwiched in between the lights of aircraft coming down the slope. I left it up to the BSD to worry about aircraft on approach. I successfully trapped and because I thought I was on fire I shut down. This upset the handling crews but they soon hooked a tractor onto the nose gear. When the engine shut down, the smoke stopped. The g-suit fitting is plugged into an outlet from the engine compressor - 12th stage air temperature which, at source, is 700°C. This fitting provides static pressure to the g-suit. It doesn't flow through the suit, just pumps it up, so it doesn't heat the suit. But the fitting had broken, allowing 12th stage air to enter the cockpit and it was blowing against my thigh. I had to explain to the captain why I shut down in the arresting gear - and he accepted the story. Accidents usually happen as an accumulation of adverse events - usually three consecutive events will lead to an accident. That night, I suffered two adverse events. The third would have been the decision to eject. I was in the air 18 minutes.