18 September, 1969
USS Ticonderoga. U.S.
Naval Base Subic Bay, Philippines
"Hi Trish. I wanted to finish the last few minutes on this tape before I send it to you. Sorry about the background noise, but Tom is playing a Jenny Lake record. To be honest, that girl doesn't have much of a voice. Hey Tom, can you turn that down?"
The music goes silent and Boone says, "Sorry, I didn't know you were recording. Hi, Trish. This is the guy you should have married. Harm, lunch is in 15 minutes, so I'm heading to the wardroom."
"Trish, Tom is a real chowhound."
"Hey, I might be losing my hair, but I haven't lost my appetite. Trish, give Little Harm a hug from me, and Boone walked out of the cabin to give his friend some privacy.
"Trish, Tom and I were getting bored just hanging around the ship, so yesterday we did some shopping in Subic Bay. I sent out Christmas gifts for Little Harm. Hide them from him until Christmas day. I hate knowing that I'll be away from both of you over the holidays (thoughtful pause). Sweetheart, I promise that this will be my last deployment. When I get home I have a months leave coming and then I'm going to take an assignment as a flight instructor at Pensacola. BUPERS has cut the papers and the CAG will signed them. As an instructor I'll be flying regular hours and have plenty of time to spend with you and Little Harm. I love you sweetheart. Give Harm a big kiss from me and tell him that I'll be home soon."
27 November, 1969 (Thanksgiving Day).
Thạch Hãn River. Quảng Trị Province, Republic of Vietnam
"Delta 1-6 to Romeo-7," came the urgent call from a U.S Army platoon leader whose men were engaged in a firefight.
"Romeo-7. Go," answered Air Force First Lieutenant Ron Clayton. He was the Forward Air Controller (FAC) operating in the Quảng Trị area and was orbiting in an O-1 observation plane. Known in the USAF as an Oscar Ace, the O-1 was a single engine propeller plane which flew low and slow.
"Romeo, I'm taking heavy incoming fire from the opposite bank of the river at my northwest. Suspect company strength. Request fast movers at 2-0-5-1-7. Popping yellow smoke."
"Delta, confirm yellow smoke at 2-0-5-1-7," answered Clayton.
"Romeo, I need help. We're about to be overrun."
"Can you withdraw?"
"Negative. I have a squad pinned down on the sandbar 100 meters to my north. I can't leave them."
"Hold on, Delta," and Clayton called for assistance from the nearest air assets. Other than an M3A1 submachine gun mounted in the cockpit, and a thermite grenade to destroy the aircraft in the event he was forced down, Clayton's Oscar Ace had no offensive weapons.
The FAC's call for help met with a quick response. "Romeo-7, this is Navy Bad Man 1 with a flight of two F-4s. We have just completed a strike and are out-bound from Route Pack Three-Alpha at 120 radial, Lima 75 TACAN, angels 8. We can be on target in 6 minutes."
Bad Man flight was Navy Lt. Harmon "Hammer" Rabb and his wingman, Lt. Tom "T-Bone" Boone. Rabb and Boone were assigned to the Sundowners- VF-111, and were deployed aboard the USS Ticonderoga with the 16th Air Wing. VF-111 had recently made the transition from the single seat F-8 to larger and more powerful F-4 Phantom II, and Harmon Rabb was considered the hottest F-4 jock in his squadron.
"Bad Man, state your ordnance," asked Clayton. Aircraft sometimes carried ordnance that was unsuitable for the task at hand, occasionally leading to either poor results or tragic consequences during close air support.
"We both have two Mk-82's and two Willie Pete (white phosphorus)," answered Hammer.
"Delta to Romeo! They're coming down the chimney. I can't hold," came the call from the ground.
"Bad Man, we need you ASAP. Pour on the coal!" and Rabb and Boone goosed the throttles of their big General Electric J79 turbojets, which began belching a trail of sooty black smoke; an F-4 trademark which could be seen for miles.
"Navy Bad Man One, this is Red Crown. I show you inbound for a strike at 2-0-5-1-7." Red Crown was the call sign for the USS Chicago, a radar picket ship on station in the Gulf of Tonkin, whose radar coverage extended over most of the air-strike routes flown from Yankee Station. Flight Followers stationed on the Windy City were air controllers who tracked aircraft up and down Vietnam (as well as in Laos and Cambodia), and could provide positive control in the event of search and rescue operations.
"Affirm, Red Crown. We're going to lend the Army a hand."
"Copy that, Bad Man," said Chief Operations Specialist Larry Nowell, who was one of the best known air controllers in Vietnam.
"Romeo-7, Bad Man Leader. We're two minutes out. Where do you want it?" Hammer asked.
"Delta 1-6 is showing is showing yellow smoke. Friendlies are on the sandbar 200 meters to his north. I say again, friendlies are on the sandbar. Hostiles are on the north bank, just below the bend in the river and near the large grove of trees. Use snake only. Should I mark the target with a smoke rocket?" asked Clayton.
"Negative. I have it spotted. Friendlies on the sandbar, bad guys on the opposite bank below the bend and in the grove," said Hammer.
"Bad Man Two acknowledges and copies," said Tom Boone.
"Bad Man flight. Use random attack from a wheel. Terrain is flat. Target elevation is below 200 meters MSL," said Clayton.
"Copy all, Romeo. I'm rolling in with snake in sixty seconds. Clear when ready to wheel."
"Tally on you, Bad Man. You are cleared to descend to best altitude and set up your wheel. I will orbit at 300."
"Wilco. Tom, stay up top. I'm going downtown," Harm instructed Boone.
"Roger, Hammer. Hit 'em hard," said Boone. The F-4's bomb aiming system was essentially manual with accuracy corresponding to the skill of the hands on the stick. It was said that Harmon Rabb could pick the window he wanted his bombs to fly through.
Harm switched to the tactical frequency to contact the platoon leader. "Delta from Bad Man Leader. I have your smoke south of the river."
"Bad Man, I see you...I see you! Go hot. Bring it in." The voice on the ground was urgent, and pitched higher than normal for an adult man. Harm pictured a young second lieutenant: a "butter bar", perhaps with only a few weeks in-country. Somehow his platoon had been split up and one of his squads was left stranded on the sand bar. The Lieutenant couldn't reach them...and he couldn't leave them.
"Roger, Delta. I'm dropping danger-close, so keep your heads down," and Hammer heard a double-click on his radio as Delta dove for cover.
Holding station in the Oscar Ace, Lt. Clayton kept his eye on the target. Ground fire erupted from along the river bank, but it was small caliber and poorly aimed. Harmon Rabb bored in oblivious to it.
Just before Harm's F-4 passed over the grove of trees, two sleek shapes, each light gray and weighing 500 pounds, fell from hardpoints located under its wings. Moments after release, the bomb's four petal-like fins popped open. The fins slowed the bomb's descent and caused it to oscillate slightly in flight, sort of like the head of a snake. This was the source of the Mk-82's nick name: Snake Eye.
To avoid being struck by his own shrapnel, Harm pulled up and away. In the backseat, Hoot Gibson watched as the bombs detonated with a flash of orange-blue flame, followed by a distinctive WHUM-PUMP as the shockwave moved away from the blast area before leaving behind a cloud of ugly gray smoke.
"Bad Man, you were on target! Two, I need you to drop 100 meters east of Leader's strike," said Delta.
"Roger that. Bad Man Two is coming down hot. I'm dropping danger close, so keep your heads down," said Boone.
"Cleared hot," came the call from Delta.
Seeing that ground-to-air fire had intensified, Harm radioed Boone. "Tom, I'm going to roll down and cover you in the chute."
"Roger, Hammer." As Tom Boone set up his bombing run, he watched his best friend purposefully draw enemy fire to his own ship.
Boone released his two MK-82s along the river bank and the smoke had barely cleared when Delta called, "Bad Man Two, that was on target."
"Delta, say your status," asked FAC Clayton.
"All friendlies are okay. My team has been recovered."
"Are you still taking fire?" asked Clayton.
"Negative. Bad Man blew the shit out of them! Thanks, guys."
Behind his oxygen mask, Harm's face broke into a wide smile. "Our pleasure. The Tonkin Yacht Club aims to please."
Clayton had been impressed with the precision of Bad Man's attack. He was orbiting the target area for the post-strike evaluation when he spotted something to the north. "Romeo-7 to Bad Man Leader. I have enemy vehicles spotted in the open at my November. Possible truck park. Can you engage?"
"All we have left is Willy Pete," answered Hammer.
"That will work. Bring it in."
"Tom, wheel left and engage the vehicles east to west."
"Roger, Hammer."
"Bad Man, you are cleared hot," and as the two F-4 roared over the target area, Clayton watched as two pairs of silver canisters tumble away from under their wings.
The canisters burst open above the ground, spewing long streams of flaming phosphorus for hundreds of meters in all directions and burned everything it contacted. There were a series of secondary explosions as individual vehicles blew up, and then a massive detonation which sent a fiery mushroom shaped cloud boiling up in the sky that rattled Clayton in his seat.
"Christ on a crutch! I think you guys just took out a fuel dump."
"I'll bet that got their shit hot," shouted Tom Boone.
Harm said, "Roger that, Romeo. Tom, join up left. Switches safe." Harm's voice was relaxed. It was just another day at the office.
"Roger, Leader," answered Boone.
"Bad Man flight, stand by for strike eval," said Clayton. Because pilots had a tendency to embellish the results of their strikes, the FAC performed the offical strike eval.
"Ready to copy," answered Harm.
"That was great work. BDA as follows: Time On Target, 15 minutes. 100% good bombs, 100% on target. Primary target destroyed. Numerous secondary targets destroyed, including four light skinned vehicles, and a suspected fuel dump left burning. Numerous enemy KBAs (Killed By Air) observed. You squids earned your pay for the month."
Harm declared, "I don't know about the "Chair Force", but the U.S. Navy charges triple time for working on Thanksgiving Day!"
"Roger that, Bad Man. I'll forward your bill to General Westmoreland!" Clayton pictured the wardroom of the Ticonderoga where a lavish Thanksgiving meal would be awaiting the two Navy pilots. His own base, or what passed for it, consisted of a dirt landing strip, half a dozen tin huts, and an outhouse where he crapped into a 55 gallon drum. "You guys have a good Turkey Day. I hope the Ticonderoga keep's a plate in the oven for you."
"Likewise, Romeo," and Harm raised the Chicago. "Red Crown... Red Crown. This is Navy Bad Man flight. We are Winchester (all ordnance expended) and RTB (Returning To Boat). Request angles 8."
"Copy that, Bad Man. Angles 8 is A-firm," the Chicago responded. Without ordnance, the two F-4s were out of the fight, at least for a while.
"Let's hurry, Harm. I want that turkey dinner, and I want it hot!" said Boone
"You're just afraid that Billy Ross is going to grab both of those drumsticks before you get them." William Ross was a pilot in VF-162, the second fighter squadron attached to the Tico, which made them the arch rival of squadron VF-111.
"Those guys in 162 aren't called The Hunters for nothing," said Boone.
Once Harm and Tom had set course for the Ticonderoga, Harm checked his fuel gauges. The F-4 was a gas hog, and when configured for ground attack, the Phantom had a mission time of just over 90 minutes. Because of they had engaged multiple targets, most of that time had been used up. Harm asked his RIO for the fuel numbers.
"Harm, I need a minute." Gibson was mad at himself for not having the figures ready. He'd been spectating during their two bombing runs instead of doing his job.
"Take two minutes." Harm's voice was calm. This was Gibson's first deployment and so far he'd done everything that was expected of him. Harm took a second look at his gauges and didn't like what he saw. "Hoot, the center tank shows 3000 pounds, but the fuel is not transferring." The F-4's center fuel tank was known to be trouble prone, but because it didn't affect the plane's handling it seldom attracted attention. "The transfer pump must have quit."
"What about the auxiliary pump?" This was the first time that Gibson had faced an actual in-flight malfunction, and he was nervous.
"I tried it. No dice. We won't make the boat on internal fuel. We'll have to tank."
Gibson said, "I'll call the whale," which was the KA-3B tanker which would be on station off the coast of Vietnam.
By now their fuel loss had become noticeable. Harm guessed that one of the seven fuel tanks located inside the F-4's fuselage had developed a leak caused by the ground fire during one of their bombing runs.
A "Golden BB"- a lucky rifle shot, could knock down a multi-million dollar jet as easily as a fearsome SAM missile.
As they crossed into the Gulf of Tonkin, Harm called, "Feet wet," and gave a silent sigh of relief. If they had to punch-out (eject), rescue at sea meant the chance of capture was remote. No one wanted a vacation in the Hanoi Hilton.
"I can't raise the tanker," said Gibson. He wasn't a strong swimmer and if it came down to it, he would rather bail out over land. Worse still was that the F-4's backseat air conditioner didn't work well below 10,000 feet. Hoot was sweating like a pig.
Harm contacted Boone. "Bad Man Two. Tom, I'm having fuel problems."
"There go my drumsticks!"