Horological Meandering

COMBAT IN VIET NAM

Our group only had one sortie north of the DMZ. The target was about 75 miles north of Da Nang and about five miles inland from the Gulf. The intelligence officer showed us a picture taken by a photo reconnaissance plane. It was strange: there, in the middle of what looked like a large rice paddy was this two-story square concrete building standing all by itself. We were not told what this building contained, only that someone in Washington wanted it destroyed. 

Our ordnance du jour was two 500-pound all-purpose bombs. The bombing sight on the F-104 was very basic and required a high degree of skill to get the ordnance exactly where you wanted it to go. We had to track the target with the gunsight pipper, achieve a dive angle of 30 degrees, hold a predetermined airspeed, and then release the bomb at a predetermined altitude. Except for the most adroit pilot, it was very difficult to achieve all four parameters simultaneously. I don’t recall exactly what altitude we started our dive bomb run or at what altitude we released it ... something in the neighborhood of 12,000 feet and 4,000 feet respectfully. We all agreed that dive bombing was hands down the most difficult of all delivery skills to master.

Our intelligence guys collected information about the location of enemy flak and proposed routes that would minimize our exposure to it. They had suggestions on how to avoid getting hit. We would be dealing with 85mm radar-controlled anti-aircraft guns supplied by the Soviets or the Chinese. If you happened to be a crew member in the type of airplane that requires the pilot to fly “straight-and-level” during the bomb delivery, such as a medium or heavy bomber, this is a worrisome thing. They are required to approach the target in this manner in order for their bombsights to compute a successful solution. A fighter-bomber like ours is still subject to ground fire when making his bomb run, but most of time the delivery involves a steep, diving descent, and the constant change of altitude makes a plane harder to track than if he were flying straight and level. 

The intelligence briefer told us we could overcome the dangers presented by radar-controlled AA if we made a fifteen degree change of heading, about every twenty seconds. The radar below would be tracking our heading, airspeed and altitude, feeding it into a computer, and then aiming the shells in the direction that would intercept our airplanes, not unlike shooting ducks with a shotgun. Their ammunition would be fused to explode exactly at our altitude. It took some time for the computers to come up with a solution, for the guns to position themselves properly, and for the shells to reach our altitude, so if we made turns every twenty seconds, their computers could not keep up with us. Doing this, we could “dodge the bullet.” 

And it worked as advertised. If we turned to the right, we could look to our left a few second later at that same altitude and watch the deadly puffs of black smoke appear...right where we would have been had we stayed on one heading. We thanked out intelligence guys profusely for this information—even bought them a couple drinks that night.

Since this building was the only one for miles around, we were able to locate it without any effort. Our flight commander instructed us that we would be setting up a north-to-south bombing pattern; that way after we completed our ninety degree turn turning dive towards the target, our aircraft would be heading straight for the coast as we completed our run. I am sorry to have to report that we were not much of a threat that day. 

First of all, this was our first time actually "receiving" someone’s return fire intent on doing us bodily harm, so we were all a bit on edge. (Should have asked the doc for another bottle of Kaopectate!) But mostly it was the fact that we had not been practicing our dive-bomb delivery techniques for a while. When we exited the area there were eight large craters in the rice paddies surrounding the building; the target itself remained unscathed. The safest place to be that day was inside the building that we were tasked to destroy. 

F-104 on the flight line 

Back at base the crew chief found one miniscule hole in my vertical stabilizer. It looked like a thirty aut six caliber round to me. Frankly, I think it was the owner of that rice-paddy, armed with his trusty American-made Springfield rifle and miffed about having to fill in the bomb craters and replant. It is always hard to come back from a sortie only to report “mission not accomplished.” We were known thereafter as the “Feckless Flight of Four.” 

BUYING MY ROLEX

My last flight in Europe was on June 22nd, 1964. Having accumulated approximately 750 flying hours, I said  auf wiedersehen to my friends and squadron mates. I was transported to Rhein-Main Air Base—now Frankfurt International Airport—for my flight home. At the duty-free shop I purchased a Rolex watch for $160. Fifty-plus years later I still wear the same timepiece. Regrettably, when I last sent it to Rolex in New York to be serviced, they changed the dial. It took so long to get it back that I didn’t have the patience to send it back to them and ask them to put it back the way it was.

Same Rolex after 51 years; with (unwanted) new dial

Cazalea

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