"Hun's Comin' Home to Honey"
A NOT SO HIGH FLIGHT:
I wasn't a happy camper when I heard the news. You see, I already had it figured out. After that miserable ride to Vietnam in the back of the “stretched” DC-8 from Travis, to Hickam, to Midway, to Clark; I was going to grab a flight on a C-141 going home. One left every Thursday from Phu Cat heading to the land of the big BX. I could sleep on the mattress-like pallets right behind the cockpit and wake up in California! So, when we heard that not only was the 31st Wing going to cease combat operations and transfer back to Homestead (a paper-only move), but we were going to ferry the F-100s back to CONUS, I was not happy. The rules mandated that you had to stay with a broken airplane for no more than seven days. With a three leg flight, that could work out to more than three weeks! But, our fates were sealed. How wrong a person can be. It turned out to be an interesting and, at times, invigorating experience - one I look back upon fondly.
Since we hadn't been flying many long range strike missions, most of the pilots were non-current in air-to-air refueling. Numerous training flights were scheduled (I also worked in the “FRAG SHOP”) to get everyone back up to speed for the crossings. Any F-100 pilot “in-country” for more than six months had his tour curtailed. Phan Rang's 35th TFW's pilots were then available to ferry planes, too.
Lt. Rich Britton, 306TFS, asked me to schedule him in an F model, two-seater, because he felt he was not very good at refueling. I scheduled him with me, not because I was great at refueling, but because I figured it would be easier to share the flying on the 8 and 10 hour legs.
The operation commenced in late September of 1970. Each day, cells of F-100s proceeded from Tuy Hoa AB, Vietnam to Anderson AFB, Guam, thence to Hickam AFB, HI, and on to a stateside base determined by the assignment of the aircraft. On 23Sep70 we blasted off Tuy Hoa in F-100F, SE 830 as “Oiler 3” in a cell of eight. Ultimate destination was England AFB, LA. On each leg we flew with three KC-135s. The first ones met us about an hour after takeoff from Tuy Hoa, and took us half way to Anderson before returning to Taiwan. We were then met by tankers from Guam.
An F-100 needed to cruise at around 25,000 feet for refueling. That wasn't very high for range purposes, but it was the most comfortable and controllable when you were heavy during refueling. That first leg was a pretty routine flight with only a few refuelings and lots of plane-to-plane chatter as everyone found out who they knew in the fighters and tankers. After five hours we landed in Guam uneventfully. Rich and I had been briefly alarmed by an internal total fuel gauge that went to zero. We knew we had the fuel since we'd just topped off from the tanker, so we put that item in our memories to write it up stateside. We sure didn't want to spend the next week in Guam awaiting parts.
The most memorable thing about Guam to me was the “buddy takeoff” the next morning. We all lined up in order of flight with a tanker followed by its three fighters, and so on. The fighters were briefed to delay their takeoffs for 45 seconds after the tanker began its takeoff, or when it broke ground.
Timing was based on the water injection spray coming out of the side of the tanker's engines because they didnít always roll right away after brake release. We thought our tanker never would get airborne! It must have taken two and a half minutes for it to break ground. The rest of the leg was consumed with flying loose formation on the tanker, then closing in and refueling, then loosening up for a box lunch (high protein, of course), and more refueling. For the 8 hour and 45 minute leg we refueled about 12 times and took on about 22,000 pounds of fuel. Sometimes this involved topping off with only a 500 pound onload, then going back to the end of the line to cycle in for another 500 pounds. This was required to maintain minimum fuel to the
nearest land base, such as Johnson Island or Midway.Our cell lead was LTC C. B. Hooper. About half way between Guam and Hickam, C. B. lost his radio. He turned it off to cool, and then it worked again. In case it happened again approaching Hickam, he briefed that he would transfer the cell to the deputy, a pilot from the 355TFS named Jeff. LTC Hooper said he
would turn his radio off to cool it, and then come back up on tower frequency.Well, it all happened. The cell of eight F-100s arrived at Hickam in echelon right formation with
Jeff leading. Our order was 5, 6, 7, 8, 1, 2, 3, 4. Rich and I were Oiler 3 in the next to last position. We were handed over to tower just as we approached the runway. Then Jeff's radio failed! No one knew what was going to happen as we continued down initial. All were on frequency (including LTC Hooper now) except Jeff, the leader. Just about the time we'd passed over the end of the runway, Jeff rolled into a very gentle turn to the left - after all he had seven wingmen! Rich and I watched this undulating snake of eight F-100s bouncing in the turbulent warm air of the fall Hawaiian day from our next-to-last position. Not a very pretty sight, for sure, but we'd all been flying for over 8 hours. Someone guessed out loud that we were going to re-enter the pattern for the break. WRONG!About that time Jeff's speed brakes popped out. We all realized intuitively that Jeff was entering his version of the break! That wouldn't have been a problem if we'd all been flying along wings level, but we were in this sloppy left turn. What followed could best be described as an unbriefed, last ditch maneuver by seven F-100s as we all broke up, down, and every which way we could to avoid each other. Rich and I finally turned base near Barber's Point NAS, about five miles west of Hickam. Behind us Bruce Amlicke called, “Oiler 4, base with gear, last F-100.” Upon shut-down, the crew chief climbed up the ladder to help us unload. He exclaimed, “That bomb-burst really looked great!”
We didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. Besides, image was
everything...The day and a half in Hawaii was very welcomed after a year in Vietnam, but most of us wanted to “get home to momma.”. For administrative reasons, Rich was moved to a D model, single-seater, for this leg. I saw his face fall with that news. I was directed not to let my new backseater touch the stick. That
didn't last very long.Our takeoff from Hickam was at 5 am. Our first refueling would be at night. No problem, except I'd never qualified in night refueling at Luke or Vietnam. Heck, how hard could it be? The takeoff from Hickam was like falling into a black hole once we turned away from the beach's lights. Also falling into that hole ahead of us were numerous strobes of different colors, navigation lights of red and green, and flashing beacons. We finally sorted out which lights to join on. Flying in the front seat, I should have flown the join up with our
tanker. Instead, I gave the plane to the backseater and gave him directions towards our tanker while my eyes were glued to it. I figured that was better than flying into the ocean trying to do it on my own. The “night” refueling turned out to be right before daybreak with a light glow over the horizon. Piece of cake...About half way to the California coast Rich reported zero liters of oxygen in his plane. We'd all been flying at 25,000 feet with our masks off, with a cabin altitude of 12,500 feet, so we all knew it wasn't really a problem.
However, the F-100 standards man on the tanker wanted Rich to descend alone to 10,000 feet- a certain flameout would follow. LTC Hooper told Rich to remain with the cell at altitude.When the tankers from Castle AFB met us we all needed to refuel. No one noticed that the boomer hadn't placed the boom 6 degrees to starboard. This was necessary to keep the F-100's tail out of the jetwash from the tanker's #2 engine. We all thrashed around, having a hard time getting fuel after as many
as 20 uneventful refuelings up to that point. Rich's refueling had been fine throughout the trip, the only thing lacking was his confidence. After a really hard time, Rich, now in a single-seater, finally got his fuel and said he must be getting hypoxic because he had such a hard time. He started a descent and diverted to George AFB, CA. A few minutes after Rich had departed, and was well off radio frequency, one of us noticed the boom position discrepancy. It was too late to get Rich back with us. He diverted to George AFB for nothing. It sure felt great to see the coast of California after being gone for a year!Our last scheduled refueling was over northern Arizona near the New Mexico line. Just after we'd topped of with a max fuel load, the lead tanker relayed a message that we were to divert to Cannon AFB because the weather at England AFB was below ferry flight minimums. We'd all been flying approaches in 300 and 400 foot weather in Vietnam. It was ridiculous to delay our return for such a case. The destination weather was actually VFR, just not high enough for a ferry flight. LTC Hooper voiced our frustrations by demanding to know from whom the order came. After a short delay by the tanker crew, the answer came back, “Gen So And So, the DO of TAC.” So much for that approach.
We started our descent for Cannon right away since it was right under our noses. To reduce fuel, LTC Hooper lead 4 eight-ship fly-bys with burner and boards. After landing, it only took about 2-3 seconds of opened canopy to realize that it was cold in New Mexico. We'd been in tropical latitudes until now. Our “new” Nomex flight suits were like cheese cloth in the cold wind. The ramp was pretty deserted. Turns out we were the only fliers on base. I don't remember why. We were treated like kings, unfortunately for 2 more days. We
finally got out of Cannon on the third day, and flew as 2 four-ships to England AFB because of en route weather.I know that this experience can't compare with the mass ocean crossings by early jet fighters back in the 1950s. Those were true pioneering operations, but for this (then) Lieutenant it was really memorable. I've always been glad I didn't end up riding home on that C-141.
- Joe Vincent, 'Hun Pilot