Mighty Thunder is proud to post this vivid recollection of a Navy carrier air wing — and the young pilots who did the flying — at war with North Vietnam 50 years ago. This is a tale for the ages told by one of war’s bravest fighter pilots and best storytellers, Dr. Brown Bear Schaffert, who is a regular contributor to the posts and archives of Rolling Thunder Remembered.

Replacement pilots were at a premium when we left Yankee and limped back to CONUS in November ’66, with a disabled fire-blackened Oriskany and a “pilot-manning level” (read: survivors) of less than 40 percent! We certainly were not the only Air Wing getting the heck shot out of us, and we had to wait our turn in line for the “must pump” replacements tumbling out of short-handed Replacement Air Wings that had to compete with the fleet for assets. During our 7-month turn around, with training-access to the “under repair” Oriskany for only the last 4 weeks, we (VF-111) received six Nuggets; all graduated from a shortened RAG syllabus with 50 hours less flight time in the Crusader than what had previously been considered the “safe” minimum. Three of those six were shot down during our next deployment (Charlie Zuhoski POW, Dave Matheny POW, Craig Taylor Recovered). I was fortunate to have ENS John Laughter assigned as my wingman.

By 4 August ’67, we’d only been back on Yankee for three weeks, and he’d already flown maybe 20 combat missions with less than 200 hours in the Crusader, when he showed us what he was made of . . . and it was really good stuff! North Vietnam’s Van Nhue headquarters area (read: Pentagon) was located in the suburbs six miles southeast of downtown Hanoi. We tried for it on 31 July by going “straight up the gut” from feet wet near Thanh Hoa to Hanoi. Theory was it would be less exposure time . . . but, as we found out over 40 years later, our SecState was notifying the NVN “civilians” exactly where and when we would attack . . . so they would run and hide? We lost the first of our nuggets, Charlie Zuhoski, on that strike; while he was protecting a Shrike shooting A4-E from VA-164. Thank God, he came home in ’73, but then the poor rascal ended up relieving me from a tedious Pentagon assignment in ’77, with the remnants of McNamara’s Whiz Kids . . . from the frying pan to the fire?

About a week later, we were sent back to Van Nhue again. This time they were really ready! John Laughter joined on my wing shortly after the cat shot and we rendezvoused with the strike group (led by “Bummie Spediveckie” aka VA-164’s Ops Officer Bob Arnold). As the only two MIGCAP aircraft assigned for the mission, John and I were a few miles “out front” of about a dozen A4 bombers. We could expect to be hit by MiG-21’s from either side during our run in. The Gomers had established a tactic where Fishbeds would be positioned in a high orbit along our run-in line and would push over for a supersonic pass to salvo their Atolls. Ideally, that would happen simultaneously with MiG-17’s hitting the strike head on. However, if the Frescos were not airborne, the -21’s would likely attack before we entered the SAM envelope.

After going feet dry, John and I began a weave across the front of the strike group; keeping eyes on both sides and with enough altitude to accelerate and counter the -21’s. We were about half-way to the target, when my radio failed – completely! I signaled my problem by rocking my wings violently and John immediately reacted by joining on my wing so we could communicate with hand-signals. Now, the ROE for NORDO (no radio) over the beach were clear. Proceed immediately feet wet and get back to the ship so they wouldn’t think you were missing. If you were a flight of two, join-up and go feet wet was the order of the day! John acknowledged my passing him the lead of our section, but when he indicated we were turning back, I gave him a violent negative headshake. Didn’t have to tell that Tiger twice! He immediately signaled the sliced hand forward towards the windscreen. We were in the fight to stay! I slid out into fighter-wing, about 1,500 feet aft at a 45 degree angle; and, for the next 30 minutes, was treated to one of the most spectacular events a combat pilot could ever witness . . . and pray to survive!

We had approached the target from the ridge line northeast of Hanoi, and they waited until we turned south for the city before all hell broke loose. The skies filled with Soviet SA-2 SAM trails. Orange balls of fire on the ground where they were lifting off, then the higher contrails . . . if they missed. The word during the intelligence briefing for the strike was that a load of missiles had arrived at Haiphong a few days earlier, and they were expected to be in position. They were! Ethan Allen (RB-66’s et.al.) later reported monitoring 108 electronic transmissions for SAM’s being “guided” during the time of our attack. Visual reports confirmed at least 44 missiles fired at our 22 aircraft.

It was like a silent movie in my NORDO cockpit! White missile trails, orange fireballs of exploding SAM warheads, then a tremendous amount of black and grey explosions as the Hanoi-complex sites joined the battle; hundreds of cannons and thousands of small arms. Through it all, Nugget John Laughter kept us in a perfect protective position, first in front the strike group, then a wide circle around the “mouth of hell,” then again the protective weave above the last of those incredibly brave Skyhawk drivers as they fought their way back down the Red River, and finally monitoring “tail-end Charlie” Skyhawk Pilot Marv Reynolds. Marv had been hit by a SAM, but he made it back to Oriskany. His A4 was in such bad shape it was beyond Oriskany’s repair capabilities.

The MiG’s didn’t show up for the fight. Probably too smart to go anywhere near that chaos! Maybe they saw the radar blips of John and me in a position that could give them problems if they tried to dive in, or maybe our real contribution was simply adding two more targets for the Gomers to choose from. Whatever . . . we didn’t lose any Yankee Station Assets on that mission, and “Bummie” and his wingy put their bombs into the headquarters building.

Bummie again showed initiative and decisiveness under pressure a couple weeks later, when Oriskany was back in Subic Bay, RP, for a few days of R&R. One dark and steaming night most of the Air Wing decided to “live it up” at the Subic Club and give the bartenders at the Cubi Club a well-deserved rest. When the Subic Club closed that night, a 40-passenger bus was waiting to take some of us back to Oriskany. Unfortunately, the driver was not to be found! We (including CAG Shepherd and some squadron CO’s) sat in that hot bus for what seemed too long; then Bummie rose from his seat, staggered down the aisle, and settled into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and we were underway for the 20-minute ride over the rough road that circled the marshy area of the bay as it wound its way to the pier. Bummie was offered all sorts of navigation assistance, but kept us on an even keel . . . until the red lights of the angry base police closed in from behind. Not to be outsmarted, Bummie pulled over, stopped abruptly, and hurried back to his seat. When the police entered the “reportedly stolen” bus, they immediately inquired as to the whereabouts of the driver. CAG volunteered that he was last seen running into the bushes alongside the road. Although his statement did not require confirmation, it was affirmed by cheers from fore to aft!

I don’t have access to John Laughter’s log book, but I’d bet one-half of his first 500 hours in the Crusader are in green ink. The color of courage under fire! I was the Sundowner’s Ops Officer and John was my Flight Officer. He always wrote the next day’s flight schedule and I presented it to Skipper Bob Rasmussen for signature. I don’t recall Old Nick ONE ever making a change. It would have been normal for John Laughter to wonder why our Brown Bear section necessarily appeared on the “going down town” Alpha Strike schedule so often . . . Years later, he shared with me the thought “it was just what Brown Bear’s did!” God bless you, Brown Bear Two, and thanks for “taking the lead” that crazy 4 August ’67 day over North Vietnam, and for keeping me in the fight and alive through many of my “231 over the North.”

Very Respectfully Submitted,
Dr. Dick Schaffert, Captain US Navy (retired) aka Brown Bear One