Winning

The weather was quite bad, about 1200 broken, with build-ups, and because of this we had problems in finding our tankers. In my own mind, I felt pretty certain that the weather would prevent us from going in at all. . . but we went. The problems we had in getting together with the tankers really kept us pretty busy in the cockpit, and the crew cockpit concept helped out here, as Kevin kept reminding me of switches that had to be turned on and checked.

Just prior to our “coasting in”, four of our A-6s split off and headed directly for Bai Thuong at low level. They were loaded with 16 Rockeyes each, and were going to make one low-level pass across the airfield, dropping everything, in hopes of tearing up the field itself, and taking out as much of the anti-aircraft as possible. We coasted in south of Thanh Hoa, going straight west. We were going to fly west to Cat Dan, then turn north and fly up the valley to Bai Thuong, using they use the karst as cover. Shortly after we crossed the coast, the A-6s arrived at Bai Thuong and immediately began calling MIGs airborne. MiGs everywhere, MiGs, MiGs, MiGs! That sounded good to us. . . it was what we were looking for, but we were a long way away, about 15 miles south. We felt we had to stay with the F-4 bombers and A-7s that we were to Cover. Finally, the F-4s accelerated away from us, timing their arrival about 30 seconds prior to the A-7s’ arrival. They started to call bandits airborne, MiGs everywhere! We were still nine miles south. We couldn’t stand it anymore, so we pushed up the power and started descending to pick up more speed. We heard the F-4 bombers call the A-6s, telling them that they had MIGs at six o’clock. We were now pretty low, and pretty fast, and just then Kevin spotted the A-6s. He said: “There’s your A-6s. . . one two three. . . and there’s your MIGs!” I looked out to my two o’clock and spotted the MIG. He was painted black, grey and white in a normal terrain-type camouflage. It was a MIG-17, and was very easy to recognise, though I wasn’t close enough to spot any national markings. They went under our nose, and 1 immediately started a hard 180-degree starboard turn, in afterburner, punching off the centreline tank at the same time. Before I even completed my turn the MIG was shooting his 37mm cannon at the A-6s. This surprised me because thought that he was about two miles behind them when I started my turn. We called for the A-6s to break and two of them did. But the third one just sort of steadied up in front of the MIG. They were going about 465 to 500 knots, and we were past 600 knots, at about 100 feet above the ground. At that particular speed, the MiG-17 has a problem. He doesn’t have the control authority to do very much, since he lacks the power to assist on his controls. In fact, the controls get so stiff that it is actually possible to bend the stick without getting a control response! I was calling for the A-6 to break, but he kept right on going in front of that MIG, while the North Vietnamese pilot blazed away with his cannon. What I didn’t know at the time was that the A-6 pilot was our CAG, who had earlier spotted the MIG on his other two aeroplanes, and had purposely slid in between them to draw the MIG off of them. He was well aware of the MIG’s control problem at high speed and felt that he could avoid his cannon fire long enough to drag the MIG out in front of us. He had decided that he would keep the MIG going until he saw our missile come off, and then break. He knew the MIG would not be able to break with him at those speeds. I had a good Sidewinder tone, but I didn’t want to fire, since the MIG was squarely between us and the A-6, and I wasn’t sure which of the two my Sidewinder was looking at. The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity as we approached the minimum range. We couldn’t get the A-6 to break. . . here was the opportunity we had waited all our lives for and it was going to worry because that A-6 wouldn’t break! While all of this was going on, our wingman was coming up on our five o’clock. Kevin looked back and spotted a MIG behind Chuck Schroeder. Kevin called the MIG, but in our particular aeroplane, which was old and had a history of radio problems, the Sidewinder tone was also transmitted, effectively blocking the rest of the transmission. I couldn’t hear it either, and in any case, I had the blinders on. . . con. centrating on our MIG, and the A-6 that wouldn’t break. Chuck didn’t know about the MIG behind him until the red balls began to go by his canopy. He broke left, dragging the MIG behind us, and off our tail. I was still unaware of all of this since all I could hear was the insistent growl of that Sidewinder tone. Finally, I reached the minimum range. . . shoot . . . or no shoot. I shot. I squeezed the trigger and nothing happened. I checked all the switches, told Kevin: “The SOB isn’t going to work!”, and prepared to fire again. All this in the normal delay time from trigger squeeze until launch, which is about three-quarters of a second, but which seems like minutes. The missile finally came off, and went straight down! Then straight up! And, as we flew through the hump-backed smoke trail of the sidewinder, it straightened and headed for the MIG. CAG saw the missile come off and broke. The MIG couldn’t break, and the sidewinder flew up his tailpipe, blowing his tail off. We were so low that the explosion of the missile was followed immediately. . . just bam! bam!. . . by the explosion the MIG made as he impacted a ridge line.

I pulled off right and asked Kevin where Chuck was. He told me about the MIG that Chuck had dragged off to the left. I came back and left, and there was Chuck. He had dragged the MIG into the karst and had reversed right. The MIG couldn’t keep up with his speed or his manoeuvres and had broke left and headed home. We joined up and made a couple of more sweeps of the area to make sure that the strike group had gotten out OK, then headed for the Coral Sea.

I don’t think the MIG I got ever saw me, and the MiG in back of Chuck didn’t tell his friend he was in trouble. But then have a very thick windscreen in front of them, and they can’t see much of anything past three miles. They were both aggressive, but their inferior equipment did them in. The whole action couldn’t have lasted more than a minute if that. We were never able to determine exactly how many MiGs were up, but none of the strike force was hit, and everyone returned to the ship OK.

6 May, 1972 MiG-21

F-4J, VF-114, CVW-11, CVA-63 A/C No. 202 BuNo 157246an

LT Bob Hughes

LTJG Joe Cruz

6 May, 1972 MiG-21

F-4J, VF-114, CVW-11, CVA-63 A/C No. 201 BuNo 157245an

LCDR Pete Pettigrew

LTJG Mike McCabe

After the engagement in which “Devil” Houston got his MiG, and the presence of MiGs in the Bai Thuong area was definitely established, it was decided to put in a late afternoon Alpha Strike on the Bai Thuong airfield. Four aircraft from VF-114 were assigned covering assignments for the strike. There was to be a western MiGCAP station, just north of Bai Thuong, and an eastern station, or BARCAP, just feet wet off the coast of Thanh Hoa. VF-213 would provide the TARCAP. (The principle differences between TARCAP and MiGCAP involve assignment. The TARCAP fighters must stay with the strike group, engaging MiGs only if they get into, and threaten, the bombers. The MiGCAP fighters have their own radio frequency and controller. Their job is to get MiGs wherever they appear, and they have the freedom to do just that. ) Pete Pettigrew was originally assigned to the BARCAP and, as a result, his aeroplane was loaded with four Sidewinder and two Sparrow missiles. Bob Hughes was assigned the MiGCAP and had a full complement of four Sidewinders and four Sparrows.

The four Phantoms from VF-114, led by the squadron Executive Officer, CDR John Pitson, launched from the Kitty Hawk at 1630. They were about 80 miles off the coast of North Vietnam, at Thanh Hoa. They knew that it would get dark about 1830, so it was hoped that the strike would go on schedule. As the two sections rendezvoused over the USS Chicago, which was acting as Red Crown, the fighter controller, CDR Pitson’s radar went “down”. He called Pettigrew and asked him to assume the lead on the western MiGCAP station. Because the strike had been laid on hastily, and because there was a sense of urgency about accomplishing it before sunset, the fighters had not been able to refuel from an aerial tanker. Pettigrew and Hughes coasted in, at the “hourglass” rivers (north-east of Thanh Hoa) just as their centreline tanks finished transferring. They were now on internal fuel only.

Shortly after coasting in, they started to get a strobe on their ECM gear, indicating an airborne threat. They cross-turned, went back, cross-turned again, and realised that the threat was on the ground. Then Red Crown came up with the information that he had some weak returns in the Bai Thuong area that he wanted them to check out. They headed south and within a few minutes, ran into the strike group. Realising that the returns Red Crown had been getting was their own strike group, they turned north again. And again Red Crown called, this time with Bogeys, bearing 330 at 40 miles. This sounded like a good vector. It was inland, and in the normal corridor for MiGs coming out of Phuc Yen. Within seconds Joe Cruz got a pulse doppler contact on the bogeys . . . bearing 330 at 35. Since he had them on radar, Hughes assumed the lead, with responsibility for the Visual Identification Pass. Pettigrew now had problems with his missiles. Neither of his Sparrows had tuned, which made them unusable. Two of his four Sidewinders were no good.

They drove on into the MiGs, getting continuous position updates from Red Crown. At 15 miles they went to the afterburner to pick up additional speed. At four miles the control called, “Check left at 10 o’clock!” Everyone immediately had a tallyho on four MiG-21s. The MiGs were at about 4000 feet and the Phantoms were at 6000. The setting sun was behind the MiGs, but because they were low, and there was a haze layer, they were easy to spot. They were in the trail, with the wingmen flying a “welded wing” formation. (Close to their respective leaders. ) The MiGs were silver and looked as if they were going very fast. They had not seen the Phantoms yet. Pettigrew called for his RIO to watch the lead section, while he concentrated on the trail section. Then he called for the attack. Since Hughes was in a better position to engage, he told Hughes, “You’re shooter, I’m cover . . . let’s engage!” They closed to within a mile of the MiGs before the North Vietnamese spotted them. As soon as the MiGs spotted them, they immediately started to turn into the Phantoms. The lead section of MiGs was far out in front and were obviously not going to get back into the fight in time to cover their buddies. As the MiGs started their turn, Hughes fired a Sidewinder. He knew that he was at the edge of the envelope, and both he and Pettigrew had doubts about its guiding. But the Sidewinder turned sharply and guided to the trailing MiG, exploding close by the MiG. It blew sections of the wings and tail off and put a big hole in the fuselage. The sleek silver bandit immediately started trailing smoke and dropped out of the formation. Pettigrew called, “Good Shot! Good Shot!”, and started to follow the MiG down into the karst to confirm the victory. It soon became apparent that the MiG was going all the way in, so he pulled hard to get back into the fight. In the meantime, Hughes was turning hard, trying to line up the lead MiG Encouraged by his first success, he fired two more Sidewinders . . . neither one guided though, and ended up going ballistic.

Throughout the engagement, Mike McCabe had kept an eye on the other section of MiG-21s, telling Pettigrew that they were “90 off, 90 off, nose away”. They were no threat. When Pettigrew pulled back into the fight, he rolled up over the top, and to the inside of the turn. He put his nose on the MiG, got a good tone, armed his missiles, and just as he squeezed the trigger, he saw Hughes’ last missile come off the Phantom. Hughes’ last Sidewinder exploded close to the MiG and less than a second later Pettigrew’s missile flew up the MiG’s tailpipe, exploding it in a huge fireball. Pettigrew pitched off right, came back left, and looked up just in time to see the cockpit section of the 21 . . . all that was left of it . . . came out of the fireball. The canopy came off, and the MiG driver ejected. His parachute opened as Pettigrew blasted by, less than 200 feet away, at 450 knots. Had Pettigrew not pulled off to the side when he did, he probably would have flown right through the debris of the explosion and quite likely could have lost his own aeroplane doing it.

The other two MiGs were still not a great threat, but left with only one good Sidewinder and questionable Sparrows, they decided to leave the area. They did a hard, nose down, turn into the MiGs, little burners and smoked out into the weeds. The MiGs overshot and by the time they could get turned around, the two Phantoms were five miles away. The controller from Red Crown was now vectoring the eastern MiGCAP Phantoms onto the two remaining MiGs, and as they came in sight of the North Vietnamese pilots, the MiG drivers decided that they had had enough for one day, and headed north at a high rate of knots.

Pettigrew and Hughes went “feet wet”, tanked, and recovered aboard the Kitty Hawk. The entire engagement had only lasted a minute and a half.

(This series will be continued in the next edition of AADR)