NAME, FOR ANY AMOUNT HE CAN COUNT!
by Larry Davis
Gabby was promoted to Lt Col that spring, and he began building the squadron
into tigers. The men needed more than just a motto. Gabby wanted his squadron,
to be recognized wherever they went. He authorized a flamboyant paint job
for the airplanes. The squadron color was Medium Blue; and Gabby, Tom Dozier
(GE Tech Rep), and Bud Sherman designed a paint scheme. The tail, canopy rail,
wingtips, and scallops on the drop tanks would be blue with white stars. The
star pattern on the tall was 9 stars shaped like an 'N', which stood for 9th
Air Division. This was repeated on the canopy rail. On the nose was a fierce
looking tiger mouth, a natural for the F-86D. Now the squadron aircraft looked
like tigers - GEIGER TIGERS!
COL 'Gabby' gave the squadron an attitude of cocky professionalism - very
cocky! When the Tigers deployed to Yuma for their first rocketry training
in 1955, they did it in style. Taxiing in, the pilots opened the canopies
and donned black 'derby hats' and blue scarves. Attached to the wingtips of
each airplane was a plywood cutout of a Geiger Tiger, complete with black
derby and blue scarf blowing in the breeze. It was quite an entrance. And
one not appreciated by the other squadrons deployed to Yuma.
The other squadrons, not too impressed with the 'entrance', promptly made it known that the Tigers better be able to back up the show. The Tigers wore their derbys wherever they went, even the NCOs. When the NCO Club manager asked them to remove their derbys, the Tigers calmly replied - "The Geiger Tigers don't take their hats off to anyone!" That promptly got the entire squadron banned from the club. SGT Flynn rapidly organized a venture across the border for booze, returning with literally gallons of rum. The Tigers set up their own 'club' in one of the squadron tents, which was soon out-selling the bar at the club they were banned from!
It was about this time that a short black and white movie entitled "The F-86s Are Here!" began circulating through the bases. It was a neat little comedy effort made by the members of the 86th FBG at Landstuhl AB, Germany. The film, about 20 minutes long, in black and white and with no sound, used stop action and speeded up film for certain scenes. "The F86s are Here!" was a satire on the daily routine at Landstuhl when the F-86s arrived.
Upon viewing the film, the Tigers, led by CAPT Bud Sherman, said they could do as good a film as any fighter-bomber outfit. All the Tigers were asked for input regarding the script, characters - right down to producfion and editing. Bud Sherman was the project officer. The script was written around a 'typical' deployment to Yuma - and how the Tigers blew away the competition.
The main characters included COL Gabby as Papa Tiger' and the Coach, MAJ 'Bing' Crosby was the Ops Officer, 'Kelly' Marinkovich was the Engineering Officer on the scooter, and Bud Sherman was the eager beaver pilot that never 'got into the game'. The female attraction in the movie was played by Bud Sherman's lovely wife.
Using out-dated black and white gun camera film and several spare gun cameras, production began during the second deployment to Yuma in the late spring of 1955. Since the film was silent, all 'talking' was done with white cards that were hand-written by SGT Flynn.
Our story begins as the Tigers depart from Geiger bound for Yuma. One of the pilots has to make an 'emergency stop' at, where else, Las Vegas. He then promptly gets lost, and has to use highway signs to find his way to Yuma, sometimes having to stop on the road and read the signs.
Meanwhile, the rest of the squadron has arrived at Yuma.. Some of their antics include landing backwards, 'inspecting' their aircraft by climbing into the intake and out the tailpipe. They even bring their mascot flying a 'Puppy Dog'. All the other squadrons run and hide at the mere mention of the Tigers.
Most of the segments are shot at Vincent AFB, Yuma, AZ. But the 'lost pilot' segments showing him stopping to look at highway signs and flying under highway bridges, were shot in Tom Dozier's car with a cameraman shooting over the windshield. When LT McCain finally gets to the outhouse at Yuma, it is actually near the All-American Canal about 9 miles west of Yuma. 'Inflight' close-ups, including the eager beaver pilot in his coonskin cap, were all filmed on the Yuma ramp. All actual flying was done by Bud Sherman and Gabby.
After production ceased on the original film, a background was added to the silent movie by using speeded up versions of some orchestra music, 'played by' THE SAN LOUIE ORCHESTRA. Released in early 1956, "The Geiger Tigers' was a hit at all the bases. One copy was sent to North American Aviation, builder of the F-86D, who, upon seeing the very funny amateur film, hired a Hollywood camera crew to re-do it.
The new camera crew had recently won Oscars for cinematography while working for the legendary Jack Webb. This time the filming was in full color, using professional camera equipment And there was a voice track. When the squadron, re-designated the 498th FIS on 20 June 1955, deployed to Yuma for live-fire rocketry training in 1956, the camera crew went with them.
The gaudy Geiger Tiger paint job was further accentuated by the addition of personal markings. The aircraft were all named - "TIGER DEE", "TEXAS
TERROR", "THE BIG WHEEL". My personal favorite was "BIG VIV", with a 4 foot tall brunette in a red bathing suit painted on the nose. The tiger mouth was modified to make it even more fierce. And a small tiger face (from the cartoon Pogo) was added to the tail.
One of the most amusing scenes was the actual competition scene. The pilots sit on a bench like a football team in full flight gear of course. Gabby is the Coach, and he keeps sending his Tigers into 'the game', only to have them miss the target every time. And each time the eager beaver pilot, played by Bud Sherman, jumps up and begs the coach to "Put me in Coach!" To which Gabby replies - "Get back on the bench rookie." Finally the new kid is all that's left Coach tells him to get in the game. He dons his coonskin cap, jumps in the nearest airplane (Gabby's personal aircraft "THE BIG WHEEL") and taxis for takeoff - minus the entire aft section. Finally taking off, he finds the target, calmly raises the canopy inflight, pulls out a Kentucky long rifle, and nails the target OUR HERO! It's a very funny scene.
North American printed and re-printed the film, Everyone in the Air Force seemed to want a copy. And the Geiger Tigers were famous. Oh yes, even with all the movie nonsense going on, the squadron still won their competition. The Tigers converted to Convair F102s in 1957, leaving their beloved Sabre Dogs behind. But they would always remain THE GEIGER TIGERS.
THIS ARTICLE IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF
COLONEL GARTH "GABBY" REYNOLDS,
WHO MADE HIS LAST FLIGHT ON 25 NOVEMBER 1996.
REPRESENTATIVE
SAM JOHNSON
(R) Texas, 3rd District
Sam Johnson has so many friends
in the F-86 Sabre Pilots Association that recounting his illustrious career
may be somewhat like 'gilding the lily'. Our association was honored and pleased
to welcome him as featured speaker at our 11th reunion. Yet it is possible
that some members may be unaware of the full scope of his many accomplishments.
Born in San Antonio, Texas, in 1930, Sam graduated from Southern Methodist
University in 1951. As an AFROTC grad, he soon found himself in flying school
at Bartow, Fla., and Bryan AFB, Tex.; followed by Combat Crew Training at
Nellis AFB in the F-80. His friend, Buzz Aldrin (another well-known F-86 pilot
and moonwalker) was a flying school classmate.
Arriving in Korea in December 1952, Sam was able to get in 62 missions in the F-86 with the 39th FIS before the war ended; scoring one kill, one probable, and one damaged MiG. He advanced to flight leader as a first lieutenant, and it was a natural for him to return to Nellis as a gunnery instructor and StanEval pilot.
The Air Force knew it had a nugget in Sam Johnson, and selected him for a tour with the Thunderbirds, flying both Solo and Slot positions during 1957-58 in the F-100C Super Sabre. This began a long association with the 'Hun', which took him next to Chaumont, France, and Lakenheath, England. He returned to Nellis in December 1961, where he flew the F-100, F-l00, and the earliest models of the F-4 with the Air Force Fighter Weapons School.
Following professional schooling at the Armed Forces Staff College, Sam was once again flying the F-100 - this time at Homestead AFB, Fla, in support of the build-up during the Cuban Missile Crisis. He helped form the first DASC (Direct Air Support Center) with the US Army, going to Ft. Bragg where he earned his parachute wings.
Sam served two tours in Vietnam. The first tour was very short, while the second was very, very long. In September 1965, his DASC experience resulted in assignment to MACV (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam) headquarters, where he helped put together the first B-52 strikes. Unfortunately, he injured his knee and was sent home in December. Rehabilitation was at Carswell AFB, Tex., and he was back on flying status in February 1966.
He headed right back to Vietnam, flying F-4s with the 8th TFW at Ubon. Selected for promotion to lieutenant colonel in March 1966, Sam was shot down and taken prisoner by the North Vietnamese in April. His 'pinning on' was delayed until he returned home, which did not occur until February 1973. Of the six years and ten months he was held captive, half of that time was spent in solitary confinement, and he lost partial use of his right arm from beatings he received. In 1992, Sam wrote his account of this difficult time in his book, "Captive Warriors
After repatriation, it took three
operations on his arm to finally get him back on flying status. Meanwhile,
be attended the National War College along with a POW friend, John McCain,
now a US Senator from Arizona. His operational career resumed in May 1974,
when he became Deputy Commander for Operations, and later Vice Commander of
the 4th TFW at Seymour Johnson AFB, NC. U.S. Representative Samuel Johnson,
(R) Texas.
A mass takeoff of 4th FIG F-86As from Suwon in the summer of 1951. It was not unusual to have 16 Sabres take off at this time. Later in the war, flights of four departed at five minute intervals so as to keep a constant MIGCAP near the MiG basses along the north side of the Yalu River. (Lon Walter)
MISSION TO MUKDEN
by Lon Walter
It didn't start out to be a mission
to Mukden, but if you'll take a look at a map of Korea, and follow my explanation,
I think you'll understand how it could have happened. By way of background,
at the time of this mission, going north of the Yalu River was strictly prohibited
(Taboo, Verboten, DON'T DO IT!). The peace talks had just begun at Kaesong
(later moved to Panmunjom), and crossing the Yalu by our forces might have
caused a problem. Funny, though, it was OK for the Russians and their buddies
to cross over to the south side. Oh, well! In any event, I must tell you from
the perspective of a first lieutenant, we just didn't go across - intentionally.
Close, sometimes, but...
On this particular summer day in 1951, the 335th Fighter Squadron (call sign
"Awning") was to put up sixteen Sabres on a combat air patrol just
south of the Yalu, in hopes that the enemy would challenge our right to be
there. Lt. Col. Ben Emmert, squadron commander, was to lead the formation
(Awning Able Lead). The plan was to patrol to near "bingo" fuel,
and then the 335th would be relieved by the 336th (call sign "Pintail").
It had the makings of an interesting mission, but one never knew.
Now, Ben Emmert was a respected and beloved squadron commander. He was a WWII ace and was always aggressive in combat, but considerate of the men he was leading. I always felt privileged to fly in his flight, and I think everyone else did, too. He didn't make many mistakes, but he was a human being.
As we departed our base at K-13 (Suwon) and climbed out to the north (330 degrees, to be precise), we anticipated the normal 25 minute flight to MiG Alley (although it hadn't been named yet). Now is a good time, dear reader, to look at your map of Korea. There are three major river inlets along the west coast of Korea along our flight path, which normally made navigation a snap. The first river leads to Pyongyang, then further north, the second river leads to Anju-Sinanju, and the third river leads to Antung on the north bank and Sinuiju on the south - that one is the Yalu. My cockpit map didn't cover much to the north of Antung, because I never figured to go there.
Continuing our climb/cruise, we discovered that there was a blanket of clouds under us, but it was beautiful up where the Awning flights were cruising. After a while, we could see up ahead that the clouds stopped abruptly, and it was CAVU to the north. Just beyond the edge of the clouds, one of the river inlets was clearly visible, and as we crossed over it, the four flights of four began taking their combat spacing. Just south of the next river, we began our back and forth patrolling.
It was a beautiful day, and I figured we must have had quite a headwind on the way up, because it had taken almost thirty minutes to get there. I also enjoyed an unusually good view of the ground, because it was so clear. Somehow, the terrain looked different. We were well into the contrail level, and Colonel Emmert had briefed that this would let us see any MiGs that came up to our level as they, too, began conning. Soon (sooner than usual, it seemed), someone called "Bingo", and Awning Able Lead wheeled the sixteen Sabres to a heading of 150 degrees to return to Suwon - no action that day.
Just then, and because we were listening to Pintail squadron coming north to relieve us, we heard, "Pintail Able Lead, this is Four. I've got bogies making heavy contrails and heading south from across the river!" Pintail Able Lead replied, "Rog, I've got em. Looks like about sixteen. They must have formed up north of the Mizu (Yalu)."
Awning Able Lead, heading south, came up and said, "Where are they, Pintail, we're heading south, and don't see them." (Are you getting the picture here?)
I think thirty-two Sabre jocks suddenly figured it all out, and there was a massive silence on the radio, except for a "Good hunting, Pintail" as Awning passed over them. It was silent all the way home for Awning squadron, and not much was said during debriefing, either. Just another CAP with no MiG response.
Of course, what had happened, is
that Awning Able Lead had mistaken the third river for the second. (Please
check your map again.) The river we had been patrolling along was the river
that leads to Mukden, deep in China (inlet number 4!). Colonel Emmert, God
bless him, had made an honest navigation error. The good news is that, as
far as I know, nothing more was said about this mission by friend or foe.
Perhaps the "bad guys" who were watching on their radar and listening
to our RT were just having a good chuckle. Who knows?
7 IN ONE DAY
by George Kinnison
The morning of May 29, 1957, started out as many other days in Los Angeles.
The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and a gentle west wind came in from
the ocean. A good day for flying out of the Los Angeles Airport. It was the
end of the month, and there were aircraft production schedules to be met (40+
F-86s and 20+ F-l00s). A lot of flying as North American prided itself in
meeting a schedule.
As I changed into my flight gear, several other pilots entered the locker room ready to go to work. I walked up the stairs of the line shack and checked in with the flight dispatcher, Bob Gallahew. I walked past Jack Bryant's office, Chief Test Pilot, and he was already shuffling papers and putting them in his personal file a stack of papers already a foot high on the desk.
Bob asked if I would fly the first target flight, and I readily agreed. It was an F-86H-10. The 'H' was my favorite '86 type. With 8900 lbs of thrust and 20,000 lb takeoff weight, the 'H' would get to 40,000' as quick as a 'D' model in afterburner. It had a pronounced drag rise, and if you kept the nose down at altitude, you could get on the back side of the drag curve, reduce power to 92%, and still maintain .92 Mach.
Brian Lauffer, personal equipment specialist, drove me down to the flight line at the southwest end of Los Angeles Airport. We passed several rows of F-86s and F-l00s, even a couple of B-45s - all ready for flight. The BAS was a true 'fighter pilots bomber' You sat in a cockpit by yourself, and it had a control 'stick'. It was a great flying machine. But when you were light and made a quick let down, it didn't want to slow down enough to put the gear down - no speed brakes! A smartly executed 4G turn solved the problem (A fighter pilot solution.)
Frank Maple, production foreman, met me by the 'H', which was parked and already hooked up to the APU. A quick preflight and into the cockpit. Starting an 'H' was always interesting. With variable-inlet guide vanes, the compressor loaded up as the RPM increased, sounding like marbles rattling in a tin can. It always got your attention in the traffic pattern as you pulled off the throttle to reduce speed, about 75-77% RPM.
I was soon heading down the runway, lifting the nose, and I was airborne. Gear and flaps up. The speed increased rapidly to the desired mach number. Within minutes I was at 40,000. Dropping the nose, I got on the back side of the drag curve, dropped down to 35,000 and set up a target course. At 92%, the airspeed indicated about 260Km, about .9lMach. I flipped the ARC-27 to company frequency, stating I was ready for company. The speed was ideal to check out the EA fire control on the F-86D. Within minutes, the 86D pilots started their intercepts. The EA computer needed .80+Mach to check the system. With me at .91 and the 86Ds coming in at .8+, the situation was ideal.
I soon started getting calls from Joe Kinkella, Harry Hoch, Bill Yoakley, and Pete Kennedy as they made passes from alternate sides at 30 second intervals. As they completed their checks, other pilots would join in. It was always a heads-up situation as the E-4 was set to miss a collision by 200', when working properly.
Sitting at altitude with little to do between runs, it was a challenge to see what you could coax out of the J73, RPM versus fuel flow, without losing altitude. At 1200 lbs, and with no more intercepts, a split 'S' was the way to depart the area. The 'H' easily slipped through the Mach, with only an occasidnal slight rudder buzz at about .98.
Off the coast of Catalina Island, I saw an F-100 at high 'Q' on the deck, setting up for an 'auto labs' check. The procedure was 550KTS, hit the auto-pilot, stabilize the reference gyro, and push the auto-labs button. The F-100 would make a rapid 4G pull-up to the 120° point, release the weapon, and continue over the top inverted. Rolling out, you headed away at 180° from entry right sporty in those days!
The old 'H', at less than 20,000 lbs and with 8900 lbs of thrust, could build up a 'Q' that was quite respectable. Back in 1954, Gus Sonnenberg had set a speed record at the National Air Races of 692 mph.
I hit the shoreline at 250KTS and 2500', and entered the downwind leg. Traffic at LA could be a three ring circus with North American, Douglas, and civilian aircraft all in the pattern. North American pilots used 250 KTS and 2500', to have 'dead engine speed' over the populated areas and still make the runway in an F- 100. Douglas pilots used 160 KTS and 1500', flying the typical Navy 'power-on' approach. It was indeed, a dual traffic approach.
On the down-wind leg, I saw an F-100 inside the inner marker at about 180 KTS, with an F4D Skyray on cross wind in the normal nose-high attitude and engine smoking. The F-100 released his chute, and taxijed in as the F4D touched down, made a short rollout, and pulled into the Douglas flight line. I had a clear runway, touched down, pulled into the North American area and parked the 'H'.
My next two flights were in an F-86D and an F-86L. The 'L' was a D model with SAGE equipment and an extended wing. It was my turn to hit the target. It took about 45 minutes to get to 45,000', check out the EA, and complete the flight test profile. The 'D' checked out fairly well, but needed a re-flight. The 'L' had an erratic steering dot, so the E-4 fire control needed a complete recheck.
Time for lunch, then back into the air. This time in an F-86F-40, a real fun machine to fly. The old adage of kick the tire, strap it on, light the fire and go, was certainly true of this beautiful flying machine. The flight was uneventful, relaxing, and fun. Up to 45,000', split 'S' and feel the slight roll off to the right as you passed through the Mach and then back out back into the traffic pattern and land 45 minutes later. No squawks, a one flight acceptance.
During lunch I had noticed an Air Guard 'A' model on the hoard. I told Galloway I wanted to fly it. The pilots didn't fight over flying an 'A'. But I had always wanted to fly an 'A' back to back with an 'F' for comparison.
I had flown the 'A' in the Air Force as my check ride in the Sabre. In the check ride, l was sitting at 35,000', fat, dumb and happy, and made the mistake of attempting a hard turn without 'unlocking' the slats. As advertised, it snapped right smartly over the top, and entered a slow spin to the right. Again, as advertised, releasing the controls allowed it to wallow a bit, staying nose down in a right turn. Message here - don't attempt a shudder turn without unlocking the slats!
After the 'F' flight, I called dispatch and headed for the 'A'. Preflight took a little longer but then I was in the cockpit. It did seem a bit smaller than the 'D' or 'H', and it took some time to check out the cockpit. It was strange to see the old 'inverter out' lights, the ARC-33 UHF, and the old A-1CM gun sight with manual ranging on the throttle. It was a good memory test. I was finally ready to hit the master switch, battery switch, advance the throttle slowly after the ignition switch and watch that old J47-GE-13 come to life. It was soon purring like a kitten. I pulled the seat pins and taxied out for take~fi.
The nose lifted off after using more runway than I had ever used at LA. Finally I was airborne. With a thrust/weight ratio of .67 with 2 120 gallon tanks, It certainly was no 'H'. As the speed built, the flight control forces increased rapidly (strange feeling using 15-20 pound forces to control an F-86). Even with a mechanical advantage of 174, it kept your attention. At 350 KTS indicated, I started my climb.
During the climb I remembered that we used to 'tweak the tailpipes' by making little mouse bumps to get a little more TPT. I finally got to 35,000 and was indicating about .7 mach at 190 indicated. As the speed decayed I unlocked the slats and started maneuvering. A true appreciation of the '6-3' slats on the F' and you really wanted the hydraulic flight controls as the stick was mushy and all over the cockpit. Yes indeed, the Sabre had obtained dramatic engineering changes for the better.
It was during this flight that I realized I had flown a different model Sabre on each of my five flights. The thought occured to me, 'Why not get a 'K' for the next flight?' They were usually scheduled for later in the day as they didn't require a target. I concluded my 'A' flight, which would require a re-flight. The flaps needed a change in rigging as it wanted to roll off to the left as speed increased.
I called dispatch, and indeed, there was a 'K' on the board. We were on Daylight Savings Time, and the sun was still well above the horizon. The 'K' had a North American designed MG-4 fire control system. It connected the Hughes radar to four M-24A 20mm cannons. The system was developed for MDAP-NATO countries not cleared for the EA FCS with the tunable magnatrone in the F-86D. Art Debolt, a North American pilot and liason between North American, DoD, and Fiat in Italy, was the man who pushed the program.
The 'K' flight was uneventful. It was a good clean bird with only minor discrepancies. I landed and taxied back to the flight line, then headed for the flight shack to close out my day. After closing out my day with the dispatcher, I remembered a conversation with Silky Morris, Chief Test Pilot of Autonetics flight facility. Silky had stated he was going to take their flight test Sabre up to Palmdale in a few days. Yes, It was an F-86E.
I talked to Silky and told him I had just flown six of the seven series of F-86s. If he would let me take his 'E' up to Palmdale. I would be 'seven for seven.' He thought it was a reasonable request as it saved him from dispatching one of his pilots for such a mundane task. He told the flight crew to get the 'E' ready. I jumped in the cockpit, and in 30 minutes I was in Palmdaie - "Seven For Seven". It had made my day. The 'seven for seven' flights received little attention, not even in the North American newspaper. After all, they were just F-86s and it was F-100 supersonic time.
The next day, May 30th, 1957, the sky was clear, sun was bright, a gentle breeze from the ocean - a good day for flying. I headed for my first flight of the day, an F-100D. Things were back to normal. As I taxied out and passed the line of F-86s, I realized the F-86, like the P-51, was probably the last of the 'strap-on' fighters. Supersonic technology had passed them by. It was time to go to work and get some of that supersonic flight time.
Several years passed by. I was in Bob Hoover's office one day. He was Director of Customer Relations. We had been discussing the F-86 that had recently flown through an ice cream parlor. In the discussions, I mentioned the 'seven for seven' flights. Bob thought it was quite unique. The conversation ended and I went back to work.
Two weeks later I was called back to Bob's office. This was unusual since Bob had an open-door policy. I arrived on time, but Bob was talking to Bill Bergen, Aerospace Group President. I naturally sat down and cooled my heels. Bob looked out and asked me to come in. Mr. Bergen presented me with a plaque. It read;
"A TEST PILOT'S DAY"
On May 29 1957
George Kinnison - A Test Pilot At
The Los Angeles Division, Flew All
Seven Models Of The F-86 Sabre.
The significance of that day had not been totally forgotten.