Russian Surface to Air Missile (SAM) Brief History:
The first ever SAM shoot-down was Gary Power’s CIA U-2 over Russia May 01, 1960. Our 53TFS “nuke alert” squadron Ramstein, Germany went on high alert.
The second ever SAM shoot-down was Maj. Rudy Anderson U-2 over Cuba on Oct 27, 1962. I watched him takeoff from McCoy Air Force Base, Orlando.
The first SAM site discovered in North Vietnam was April 5, 1965. LBJ refused permission to attack and destroy the proliferating SAM sites.
The third ever SAM shoot-down was a USAF F-4 over North Vietnam on July 24, 1965.
The first attack on a SAM site July 27, 1965 was an ambush resulting in six Thuds lost.
A second attack with 12 Thuds 13 days later found only another empty SAM site. There were no losses on this mission.
The third attack, the one I was on Oct 31, 1965 led by a Navy A4 with eight Thuds was the first ever SAM destroyed by USAF.
Subsequent to that SAM Hunter-Killer mission; the USAF Wild Weasels were formed with six two-seat F-100F.
The F-100F Wild Weasels got their first SAM kill on December 20, 1965 after losing five of their six Huns in their first 45 days.
The two-seat F-105 took over the Wild Weasel mission in the summer of 1966 and incurred heavy losses but also much success as evidenced by MOH awards to Leo Thorsness and Merl Dethlefsen. Those were the only MOH awards to Thud pilots who flew more than 20,000 sorties over North Vietnam with 382 Thuds lost.
Magic Stone 466–SAM Hunter-Killer Mission:
During a F-105 Thunderchief (aka “Thud”) combat tour out of Takhli, Thailand in 1965, Russian SA-2 Surface to Air Missiles (SAMs) begun to appear in North Vietnam. Previously, we had flown over our targets unmolested at 18,000 feet to begin a dive bomb attack. The newly arrived SAMs canceled out our high altitude sanctuary and forced pilots down low where anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) fire was intense and often withering.
One day our base commander, a colonel who did not fly combat missions, bravely announced: “We are going after the SAMs”. Captain Mike “Porky” Cooper, showing more guts than tact, called out from the back of the room, “What’s this ‘We Shit’ Colonel, are you going along in the F?” (F105F is a two-seater version). Getting shot at everyday tends to erode one’s military decorum. (Navy Editor’s note: The 2nd Air Division at Tan Son Nhut AB, arranged with the Navy to have a Navy A-4E fly with the F105s on this very special mission).
Navy LCDR Trent Powers landed his A4E Skyhawk at Takhli carrying his own 500-pound snakeye bombs. Powers was the XO of the USS Oriskany’s VA-164 squadron. The Navy had sent the very best. Powers knew this was a big time White House directed mission, and dangerous. His call sign was “Magic Stone 466″.
We Thud pilots had no homing or electronic warning gear. Powers, on the other hand, possessed the APR-23, which would home in the hard to locate SA-2 location.
Takhli scheduled two outstanding Flight Commanders for the Hunter-Killer mission. Mike Cooper would lead a flight of four “Thuds” from the 334th Tactical Fighter Squadron with mates: Jim Butler, John Stell and Lee Adams. Gayle Williams would lead four from the 562nd including myself and two others who’s names sadly escape me. Each Thunderchief would carry eight 750 lb. bombs. This was the era before “smart” bombs. Our hits, if any, required substantial pilot skill.
Powers wanted to fly across the target level at 50 feet and skip bomb with his high drag snakeyes. We preferred to dive bomb, using a pop-up from the deck to create a dive bomb run. This made it tougher for the ground gunners to track us. No sweat, since Powers would be first across the target and out of the way, his flat pass would not conflict with our dive-bombing.
We called those Dooms Day missions; because invariably someone got shot down from the withering gunfire around Hanoi but there was no shortage of volunteers.
Powers’ plane had a magic black box or what passed for magic, circa 1965. Actually it was similar to the old semi-worthless coffee grinder ADF (Automatic Direction Finder) device we used in the late fifties in Europe. A needle would point in the general direction of a SAM site, when and if the SAM was in the radar search mode. Operator skill was required to find, and that meant Powers was the key player on this mission; one Navy pilot leading eight Air Force bomb laden Thuds in hopes of finding a well hidden missile.
A couple of months earlier the first mission to destroy a SAM site turned out to be an ambush with six Thuds lost. If I recall John Morrissey’s excellent mission report; three were killed, two became POW and only one rescued.
We launched, joined up, refueled off a KC-135 (B-707) and headed up north, only to find a solid overcast at the let down point. The mission was a No-Go due to weather. But instead; Powers’ gave a slight wing rock, a wordless command to join in tight nine-ship “V” formation and descended into the clouds. No one would have criticized him one bit if he canceled for weather and returned to base. Instead, he pressed on… and we followed tucked in tightly on his wings. In a nine-ship Vic in cloud, heavy with fuel and bombs, bouncing around as number five in echelon formation is in itself pretty damn exciting.
Nearing the target, we finally broke out of the clouds and went to the deck to counter intense ground fire. No longer a tactical formation, we were now just a gaggle of bomb-laden Thuds strung out in loose single file trusting our lives to our Navy leader; a man I’d only met a couple of hours ago.
At one point, there were hills on both sides…with overcast above… making a sort of tunnel. I got slung into cloud during a sharp turn and immediately punched the nose back down desperately hoping for valley beneath…instead of hillside. I remember thinking: “I’m not going to miss this mission for anything”. Stupid decision? Probably. Better dead than to be a fuckup is the fighter pilot credo.
As we screamed low level towards the target I flew so low over a guy driving a farm tractor that he leapt to the ground. He was doing about two knots; we were doing 550 (635 mph). When they are shooting at you: LOW is good…FAST is good.
Approaching the Hanoi area my jet was hit by small arms fire causing various yellow caution lights to illuminate. On we pressed; we were the goats, tethered to lure the lion out into the open for the kill.Until that day, it was a big deal when just one or two SAM’s were launched at us. Today they were firing them like artillery. A secret B-66 orbiting over Laos transmitted repeatedly in rapid order the code word warnings for missile “locked on” and missile “launched”. Whew!
As we closed toward the general target area, Powers calmly transmitted; “I’ve got’em on my nose…starting my run”. He flew directly over the target at tree top level and his Skyhawk was literally disintegrated by the withering ground fire. Powers ejected and got a good chute, although none of us saw it at the time. We thought he was dead, but we learned decades later he became a POW and died in captivity.
My turn. Powers’ emergency locater beacon was screeching in my headset as I lit the afterburner and popped up to about 7500 feet. I clearly remember saying aloud to myself, “Oh shit, I don’t want to do this”.
During that brief dive bomb run, which seemed an eternity, I plaintively shouted into my oxygen mask: “Stop it. Stop it” as my plane took more hits. I continued. Bombs on target. Other’s put their bombs on target as well. The first SAM destroyed in the Vietnam War by USAF.
The AAA hits caused multiple red and yellow emergency lights to blink in my cockpit indicating a fire and other aggravations. I radioed my intention to try to make it to the water off Haiphong before ejecting. Radio chatter was understandably chaotic. Each Thud pilot was individually living his own hell…each jinking violently to get away from the unrelenting and withering ground fire.
Now alone and doing 810 knots on the deck (canopy melt limit speed) I slowly overtook a Navy F-8 Crusader as if passing a car on the freeway. We exchanged gentle hand waves as if to say: “Oh, hi there, don’t know you, but hope you’re having a nice day?” It was bizarre.
But now over the safety of Gulf of Tonkin, a sort of euphoric relief set in. If I ejected over the water, the Navy would surely pick me up.
My fire warning light had gone out, so when I saw a couple of North Vietnamese boats capable of capturing downed pilots; I strafed them. The 20mm Vulcan nose gun fired six thousand rounds a minute causing huge damage. Forget the ejection…the bird was still flyable. Anyway, last month I was forced to dangerously eject just one second before my plane exploded into a huge fireball over a menacing jungle. I Got lucky and found a refueling tanker with barely anything reading on the fuel gauge. Another whew!
I made it back to Takhli with landing gear, flap and flight control problems but landed in one piece. There were 37 hits all over the plane except the extremely vulnerable underbelly engine area. That Thud required 4,000 man-hours of work before it could be ferried elsewhere for further repairs. I passionately pitched General Simler to award the Air Force Cross to Powers but years later learned Powers was awarded the Navy Cross.
Excerpts from a DFC awarded for this mission: “Hunter-Killer mission…deep within hostile territory…low level high speed run…encounter withering ground fire…pressed the attack…dropped bombs in heart of target complex…remarkable mission…overwhelming odds…skill…aggressiveness.”
It was an honor to fly and fight with those hard-charging heroes in 1965. They didn’t all come home. Vietnam was not glamorous or publicly supported but every fighter pilot put his life on the line every mission. Every time climbing up that cockpit ladder felt like playing a Super Bowl albeit with no audience. No applause. No winner. No parade.
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