“It’s the RAF.”
My desk officer handed me the phone. I smiled in anticipation. Six months into my second tour in England it was March of 1966, I had always looked forward to any association with the RAF. In fact, as operations officer with the 92nd “Skulls,” I made sure our tower knew that any stray Hunters or Lightnings that diverted to Bentwaters be sent to our ramp, where we made sure they were welcome. One might sometimes be invited to a dining in.
A senior officer was on the line. “We wondered if you could come up and play with one of our Vulcans? We would like to see what your new Phantom can do.”
I couldn’t believe my luck. Our C.O. was off politicking someplace; it was all mine. We agreed on the next morning; I got a controller’s frequency, and a radial off Clacton, and an altitude around 25,000 ft. See if we could shoot him down.
Our group, the 81st Tactical Fighter Wing, had been in England since 1955. We referred to ourselves as the Queen’s Own. Briefly swanning about with Sabres, we were soon brought to reality with the arrival of the ungainly F-84F Thunderstreak, and a NATO atomic strike mission which we shared with our sister wing, the 20th at Weathersfield. We were then “The Tip of the Arrow,” with reinforced squadrons: the 92nd at Manston, the 91st at Bentwaters, and the 78th at Shepherds Grove.
In 1958, economy forced us to move the 92nd from the splendors of Thanet to the countrified Bentwaters, while the 78th settled in nearby RAF Woodbridge. Our disappointment was tempered by receiving all of the USAF’s F-101 A & C Voodoos, which we converted into the deepest strike fighter in NATO. We were a proud outfit, and only the best need apply. It seemed natural that we should be the first F-4C Phantom unit in the European theater. We did our operational conversion in Fall 1965.
We were by no means an interceptor squadron. In our strike role, we used our radar for navigation and target acquisition. However, our wartime load included 4 Sparrow IIs in under-fuselage stations, which we were trained to employ using our AN/APG 100 radar in intercept mode. Besides I had a great GIB.
The US Navy put intercept officers in the back seat of their Phantoms. The Air Force decided that, owing to worldwide commitments, as long as there was a back seat, a pilot should be in it. So a stick and throttle controls were added. Not surprising, no pilot wanted to sit back there. The recent pilot graduates were put there anyway. They were known as Guys in the Back (GIBS). I spent a lot of my precious flying time in the Phantom sitting in the back so my GIB could get a chance to see where he was going occasionally.
As Ops, I got the pick of the litter. Lt. Edward J. Mechenbier, (now Maj. Gen. USAFR) was a 1964 graduate of the US Air Force Academy. I had just finished a posting as faculty there, so I knew many of our GIBS who were from that class. Ed and I had done our operational conversion together in Tucson , Arizona, and had flown a new Phantom from the factory in St. Louis to England. We were a good team.
We reached our fix at the appointed time. It was clear above some broken clouds below. The target was described as about 40 miles, moving west to east. Ed was painting a target, which I could see on my small repeater scope. “He’s higher,” from Ed. I advanced my throttles. “Now there’s three of them; start a left turn” The Vulcan’s electronic countermeasures (ECM) were creating multiple targets for our radar. We were still on scan. “I’m going to try to lock one of these,” from Ed. We got a good lock, with range information coming on the scope. As we closed the range, Ed decided “He’s stealing my gate; disregard the scope.” The Vulcan’s ECM was creating a false target for us to attack.
Then:
“ OK, I’m switching to Home on Jam.” The scope showed a strong return. We were using the Vulcan’s defense to track it. “He’s climbing,” from Ed. I selected first stage reheat (I had three more stages available).
Shortly: “OK, I think we are close enough for burn through. “ He switched back to Lock On, and our radar overpowered the ECM . Immediately I got a Sparrow II attack solution. “Fox One,” I informed the ground controller. “Oh my God,” from Ed. I looked up from my scope and saw this grayish bat winged monster looming in the windscreen. He banked sharply to the left, at 45,000 feet a last ditch defense maneuver. I continued my climb, and aided by my flight computer, eased into a turn which I reduced to one half G to increase my stall speed, came out of reheat and fell in behind the Vulcan.
Firmly in the saddle, I transmitted “Fox Two.”
After a short interval, we were thanked for the exercise, and given “pigeons” to base. As we dropped through the clouds, we were over the North Sea. Bentwaters Tacan was ticking off the miles to the beacon; the inertial navigator was homed on the runway, and Ed had switched the radar to ground map and Orford Ness was on the scope. No ambiguity in the Phantom. It took a lot of the excitement out of flying fighters.
“What do you think?” from Ed.
“They can’t have been very happy; we made it look awfully easy.”
“Was that their best?”
“I believe so, Ed. Why don’t you do the Tacan approach and GCA? I’ll land it.
My recollection is that there was no further contact concerning the mission from the RAF. Some months later I noted that the RAF was abandoning high level strike and beefing up their Vulcans for low level attack. I suspect that our mission must have had some influence on that decision.
Author’s note.
Previously published in Jets, Summer 2000
Fox One is a positive any aspect radar missile lock-on.
Fox Two is a positive rear aspect Sidewinder or gun lock-on
Then Captain E.J. Mechenbier was a well known POW shot down over Hanoi in 1967.