20th Air Division F-86Ds representing the Central Air Defense Force, lined up on the Yuma AFB ramp for the Air Defense Command "Shoot-Off" in July 1956, later Vincent AFB, was host for both the ADC "Shoot-Off" and the Air Force Gunnery and Weapons Meet (Interceptor Phase) from 1954 through 1957. (Credit USAF)

YUMA

by Larry Davis & Marty Isham


(Marty Isham known to his friends and colleagues as "Mr. Air Defense Command", is an unofficial historian of ADC and presently works at the USAF Weapons School, Nellis AFB. His knowledge of ADC operations is without question.)

 

Yuma, Arizona, is normally a sleepy little town in the middle of the Arizona desert about 200 miles west of Phoenix. But in the years during and affer World War Two, Yuma was a bustling town filled with servicemen since the Army began using the local airport as a training base. Beginning in January 1954, it was the home of a large number of jet jockeys. And not your run of the mill fighter jocks, these were Air Defense Command interceptor pilots sent to Yuma to practice live-firing the primary armament of USAF's interceptor force, air-to-air rockets.

Air Defense Command rocket training operations began on 1 January 1954, after the 4750th Training Wing(Air Defense) was activated at Yuma County Airport The 4750th had two major components, the 4750th Training Group(Air Defense) and the 4750th Training Squadron. Col. Robert Worley was the first commander of the 4750th TW. But there were many famous people assigned to the 4750th including Col. Glenn Eagleston as Group Commnder, and Maj. Jim Jabara commanded the 4750th Squadron. The group had two flying squadrons assigned - the 4750th TS equipped with six F-86Ds and six F94Cs; and the 4750th Tow Target Squadron equipped with twelve T-33As and eight B-45As used to tow targets for the live fire portion of the course.

Since Air Defense Command (ADC) was equipped almost solely with rocket-firing interceptors (or soon would be), Headquarters USAF decided they should have their own training base separate from the normal 'Gunfighter Air Force. Yuma County Airport was chosen for the site. The last 'gunnery crew' left Yuma in December 1953. nd the first ADC squadron arrived at Yuma for the Rocketry Proficiency Program on 1 February 1954. ADC squadrons rotated through Yuma on a regular basis for a two week proficiency program that included 'live-fire' exercises over the Williams AFB and Luke AFB ranges.

The two week course included a controller course, many hours in the F-86D simulator and at least one 'live fire' mission flown each day. The targets, usually towed behind B-45A tow ships, were 9'x45' target sleeves, with two radar reflectors attached for the interceptor fire control systems to lock onto. Most of the TDY personnel were quartered in tents near the flight line, at least until April 1954 when the first permanent barracks buildings were finished and air conditioned. By June, seven ADC units had rotated through the Yuma program.

Also during the conference at Las Vegas AFB (became Nellis AFB in Spring 1950) that brought the ADC program to Yuma, Headquarters USAF decided to add a separate air-to-air rocketry competition to the annual USAF gunnery meet that was held at Las Vegas AFB. The Interceptor Phase of the competition would be held at Yuma between 20 June and 27 June 1954. Col. Worley chaired the rules committee meeting at Yuma in mid-January.

There were four teams involved in this first ADC rocket competition - two F-94C Starfire units from the Air Training Command squadron at Moody AFB, and a Western Air Defense Force squadron; and two F-86D teams from the Eastern Air Defense Force (13th FIS) ar the Central Air Defense Force (made up from elements the 15th FIS and 93rd FIS). The first F-89D Scorpion squadron, the 18th FIS, also participated but did not compete.

Each team pilot and airplane flew three missiol against the targets, first at 20,000' and then again 30,000'. Scoring was done by a judge flying one of the T-33As - 1000 points for a hit on the first run, 800 for the second, and 600 for the third. Unfortunately for the 'good guys', the F-94C teams swept the honors, with the Moody team taking First with 10,400 points, followed by the WADF team. The EADF F-86D team was Third and the CADF team came in Fourth. Gen. B.J. Chidlaw, Commanding ADC, presented the trophies at the end of the competition.

Several changes occured during the last half of 1954. On 24 August, Yuma County Airport was redesignated Yuma Air Force Base. On 1 September, the 4750th Training Wing became the 4750th Air Defense Wing(Weapons). The 4750th Group and squadrons were also redesignated. And on 8 January 1955, the 4750th Tow Target Squadron became the 17th TTS. Between July 1954 and the end of the year, ADC rotated eleven more squadrons through the Yuma program - nine in F-86Ds, and one each in F-94Cs and F-89Ds.

One of the more interesting events was Exercise CHECKPOINT, a joint exercise between ADC and SAC units in July 1954, during which ADC units from Yuma successfully 'intercepted and destroyed' seventy-three out of seventy-four SAC inbound bombers, either BA7s or B-36s. In late 1954, USAF and ADC decided to open a second rocketry center at Moody AFB, Georgia The 4756th ADG(Weapons) and 4756th ADS were assigned to the Moody Rocketry Center. Beginning 1 January 1955, only F-86D units would go through the program at YumaThe F-94 and F-89 crews went to Moody. In November 1954, the first TB-29 tow target aircraft arrived at Yuma, and the first night 'live-fire' missions were flown.

By 1955, with Moody now training the '94 and '89 crews, ADC began rotating four squadrons through the Yuma program simultaneously. And in February, the 317th FIS set a new record for hits with 177 actual hits. In 1955, USAF established a three phase competition for the first annual World-Wide Fighter Gunnery and Weapons Meet - Phase One was for day fighters, Phase Two was the Special Delivery phase (i.e. 'nukes'). Both of these were held at (now) Nellis AFB. Phase Three was the Interceptor Phase, again held at Yuma AFB in October 1955.

But first ADC held a Shoot-Off' at Yuma from 8 August to 24 August 1955. Pour teams from each air defense force (ADF) were invited to participate. At the end of the ADC Shoot-Off, one team from each ADF would represent ADC in the October interceptor competition. The Shoot-Off actually began on 16 August and had the same rules as the 1954 Rocketry Meet. At the end of the Shoot-Off, ADC crowned the WADF F-94 team from the 78th FIG the winner with 14,800 points. The 26th AD F94Cs (EADF) were Second, and the CADF F-86D team from the 328th FIG was Third.

The first 'World-Wide' USAF Fighter Gunnery and Weapons Meet (Interceptor Phase) was held at Yuma AFB beginning on 2 October 1955. Eight teams participated, which included for the first time ever, teams from overseas units. The overseas units would borrow aircraft from stateside squadrons for use in the competition. Participants included the EADF team of 26th Air Division F-94Cs, ATC F-86Ds from the 3555th Combat Crew Training Squadron at Perrin AFB, USAFE F-86Ds from the 431st FIS at Wheelus AB, Libya, 78th FIG F86Ds represented WADF, Alaskan Air Command F-89Ds from the 18th P15, Northeast Air Command F-89Ds from the 64th AD, Far East Air Force F-86Ds assigned to the 51st FIG, and F-86Ds from the 328th FIG/ CADF.

Most of the units had representatives from several squadrons within a group or wing, such as the EADP team that was made up of aircraft and crews from the 46th FIS at Dover APB, the 96th FIS at New Castle County Airport, the 48th FIS at Langley, and the 332nd FIS based at McGuire AFB; and the top scoring crews from the three squadrons in the 78th FIG (the 82d, 83rd, and 84th FIS) represented the CADF.

The overall winner was again an F-94C Starfire team from the EADF 26th AD, led by Col. Milton Ashkins, who would later command the 4750th ADW(Weapons) at Yuma. Col. Ashkins' team would come from behind on the final day of the meet to beat out all the other teams. The ATC F-86Ds flown by 3555th pilots, took Second, while FEAF '86s finished Fourth, CADF finished Fifth, WADF was Sixth, and the USAFE team was Seventh.

On 18 October, Gen. Thomas D. White, Vice Chief of Staff of the Air Force, awarded the trophies. First Place went to Col. Norman Orwat's F-86D team from the 94th FIS. The EADF team had scored a total of 13,800 points for the victory. The F-89Ds from the 437th FiS placed Second with 11,400 points. F-86D teams placed Fourth (40th FIS), Fifth (406th FIW), Sixth (3625th CCTW), and Seventh (13th FIS). High Team Captain Event honors were split between Col. Donald Graham and his Radar Operator l/Lt. Billy Thompson, an AAC F-89D crew; and l/Lt Robert long, a member of the 94th FIS F-86D team. Overall High Aircrew score went to Col. Graham and Lt. Thompson.

The 1956 meet was the last meet held at Yuma because USAF moved the Interceptor competition to Tyndall AFB, Florida in October 1958 under Project WILLIAM TELL The 1958 William Tell Meet was the last in which F86Ds competed. But they went out with a flourish. All the F-86D/L teams flew in Category III competition. Category I was for Century Series interceptors, Category II being for two-place F-89 interceptors. For the first time, Air National Guard teams were allowed to compete. The F-86D team from the 125th FG, Florida ANG, shot a PERFECT SCORE, 40,800 points, to grab First Place. Second was the 526th FIS/USAFE, Third - the 3555th FTW/ATC, 322nd FIS/WADF F-86Ls placed Fourth, and 4th FIS F-86Ds from PACAF were Fifth. The weather at Yuma and the Century Series of advanced interceptors had relegated both Yuma and the Dog Sabre to reserve status. But it had been a good run.


POPEYE INTERCEPT

by David C. Montgomery

 


RAF Manston lies near the Straits of Dover in southeast England. It had oflly partially recovered from the ravages of World War Two when I arrived in May 1955. There were still makeshift bomb shelters, i.e. trenches with tin roofs, and many large circles of lush green grass where Luftwaffe bombs had cratered the runway. The familiar RAF control tower overlooked a bizarre hilltop runway, which was an extraordinary 750 feet wide and 9000 feet long. The runway had a 'crown' that was high enough that planes on opposite sides of the runway were largely hidden from each other.

The runway was swept with a persistent cross-wind as its wartime builders had oriented it, not into the prevailing wind direction, but aligned it with the path of crippled bombers limping back to emergency landings from raids to Festung Europa. On the approach end of Runway 29 was the famous, old, experimental installation known as FIDO - 'Fog, Intensive Dispersal Of'. Inside were big fuel storage tanks to supply fog dispersing burners mounted on large, rusty pipes. Towards the west side of the base and concealed from aerial view was an old, unused underground hangar with a ramp leading to the surface.

Down the hill to the south was the GCI site at Sandwich, Kent. And on the parking ramp of 'my' squadron, the 514th FIS, gleamed the love of my life - nearly new silvery F-86Ds. These were the modified models of Project PULLOUT, that had all the improvements addressing the issues that fueled the black jokes about the "gear-up, flaps-up, blow-up Dog".

At the time of this tale, 1957, both Dog squadrons were operating as 'combat ready', and were undergoing a series of exercises that demonostrated the combat capabilities of Manston's 406th FIS. My Story is about "an unusual plight during a non-routine flight in the all-weather intercept racket."

It was my turn to sit runway alert. Suddenly the balloon went up and the order came to launch. Within a couple of minutes I was airborne, checked into Sandwich GCI and was being directed to the northeast over the North Sea at Angels 40. I was the sole interceptor launched against a target reported to be at 50,000 feet and westbound. There was no doubt in my mind that an intercept would not happen at such an altitude, but I pressed on.

Weather! Manston reputedly had the most favorable weather in the UK. And we had been briefed long before that despite such an advantage! the statistics on English weather suggested it to be more challenging to aviators than the worst anywhere in the US. So it was on this day as I climbed above 30,000 feet before clearing the overcast.

GIC vectored me for a beam attack with the target 100 miles distant as I continued the climb. But the controller's planned angle-off attack didn't lead the target's projected path sufficiently and the 'intercept' deteriorated into a tail chase. Now level at 40,000, 1 had closed on the target and 'locked on' from about 2 miles astern. The radar display in the lesser sensitivity of Phase 1, showed a measly 50 knot overtake rate! England's eastern shores lay unseen below and ahead and, as I had to go that way anyway, the pursuit continued.

My bird was making max speed, .94 Mach, and burning fuel at a gluttonous rate guaranteeing a flight of less than an hour. Far above me, and Out of reach, the target was barely visible. As I watched, it slowly began losing altitude. After a conspicuous delay, the steering 'dot' drifted towards the bottom of the scope. Remember, this is 1957 and the computing power of the Hughes radar was probably less than some of today's household appliances. Soon the target disappeared into the undercast. I continued the pursuit. No further instructions were made by the GCI controller and the ARC-27 radio was silent. The attack was now solely in my hands. I started down, balls-to-the-wall, and was soon on instruments.

Slowly the range decreased and he started to drift to starboard. After the 'jizzle band' (radar strobe) reached 300 starboard, I started a turn-in-trail, intending to again put the target at 12 o'clock. This was to be an ID run, and I sure as hell didn't want to come up booming on his wing while popeye in a turn with a big-time, unmanageable overtake.

The maneuver went as intended, but surprisingly, the overtake rate jumped to 1200 knots! Apparently the target was executing a jet penetration and had reversed course. The attack now involved converting a head-on pass into an ID run. It was a maneuver often practiced in the simulator and I felt confident of the conclusion. On instruments, my attack continued.

20 Seconds to go! The attack display upgraded to the increased sensitivity of Phase 2, with the target still at 12 o'clock and closing at 1200 knots. By now I was flying with the stick gently held between thumb and forefinger, holding the steering dot at just a smidgen of fly-down. I knew the fire control computer aimed for a splashtime intercept point about 40 feet higher than the target And I wanted to see the target pass headon under me in the clouds. (CLOSE!) A quick blur as the target zipped past just beneath me.

A 5G reversal put him again ahead of me, and a quick rearward pull on the radar hand control resumed the antenna's automatic, rapid back and forth sweep. Spotlighting the target by holding the 'trigger' on the hand control, I slewed the jizzle band over the fading target image. Slowly rocking the hand control made it bloom. Thumbing the control's range-gate switch caused a marker to rise up the jizzle band until merging into the radar blip.

The blended images twitched slightly as the radar lock-on was resumed and the attack display returned, which included two concentric circles. A segment missing from the rotatable outer circle was read against the overtakerate markings on the scope face. Antenna angle-off was displayed as a multiple line vertical strobe, while the embedded blip of the target's return slid slowly down the jizzle band and revealed the decreasing range.Within the inner circle, a steering dot meandered around.

The F-86D was designed to intercept propeller-driven bombers at medium altitudes, and fast targets were a problem easily demonstrated with a vector diagram. But this target had descended to altitudes where I could maneuver to advantage. Plus the overtake rate was now a couple of hundred knots. I'd soon be on him and I reduced power to idle with speed brakes out to bleed off the excessive overtake rate. This time he was held on the scope at 600 to starboard, and stabilized at a range of 3 miles. The overtake rate decreased to 0. Positive vertical clearance was maintained by holding the steering dot to a little bit of fly-up. A bit of throttle and a small amount of overtake developed.Range decreased steadily.

My Dog closed on the cloud-shrouded target from a position just below and at his 8 o'clock. As the distance closed to almost zip, a huge Vickers Valiant four-engine jet bomber materialized out of the mist. I closed in tight to a position within the span of the bomber's left wing and just below the tail. Finally, at an altitude of about 15,000 feet and descending with the target, I read off the bomber's tail number to the GCI controller!

"Roger" was the answer, then a command to climb back to ANGELS 40 for another target 100 miles east. I had to decline as my fuel was too little for a second intercept. It was time for me to go to home plate as I was far below BINGO fuel. The controller gave me a vector north to RAF Scuithorpe, located near 'Thewash' in northern East Anglia, not all that far from Robin Hood's Sherwood ForesL My arrival in the traffic there caused something of a stir as my interceptor was armed with 'live' rockets and the Transient Alert crew was unfamiliar with that. After a couple of hours, I was refueled and returned to Manston.

The whole mission had been a technical challenge involving the most demanding instrument flying. I left the Air Force after my tour at Manston and flew various other airplanes. But I never had an ILS to compare with that long ago popeye intercept. I'll bet if that Valiant's pilot had seen what was being done at his risk, he'd still be PO'd!


THE SAUCE DID IT

by James B. McCain

 


When the 330th Fighter Interceptor Squadron returned to Stewart AFB, New York, from the Air Defense Command rocketry practice in Yuma, Arizona on 20 April 1958, we were surprised to see a large banner iIn front of operations. The inscription read, 'Welcome Home Deadeyes!" We were met not only by our families, but the 579th Air Force Band and other well-wishers, including a lot of brass since Eastern Air Defense Force Headquarters was housed at Stewart. The party started when our squadron commander's wife cut a large cake.

The 330th FIS had broken all existing records at Yuma up to that time. Our percentage almost doubled the previous record set earlier that year. Our accuracy was evident in the fact that the squadron had downed twenty-two of the Del-Mar reflector targets in comparison with the previous high of nine. Many opportunities for hits were missed because the targets, which were being towed by other aircraft, kept being knocked down leaving nothing to shoot at!

Moving the squadron from New York to Arizona was not an easy chore to begin with because the F-86D was never built with cross-country flying in mind. Due to the limited range it was a number of short hops. I had a sick bird on the way out that would not give the required tailpipe temp, which greatly increased my takeoff roll. But to write it up would mean I would've been stuck somewhere awaiting maintenance and missing out on all the fun. So I became very determined to make it all the way to Yuma.

Taking off from Biggs AFB, Texas, I used virtually all of the big runway, normally used by B-36s, chasing jackrabbits for five miles or so before I could get the gear and flaps up with safety. At Albuquerque, I had an advantage. I just drug on out past the edge of the mesa where I had room to sink before cleaning up the airplane. Most of us stopped in Las Vegas for the night where I heard a fabulous concert by Nat King Cole at the Sands Hotel. The cost was an unbelievable $4.00! A treat that was truly "Unforgettable."

When we all gathered in Yuma, actually Vincent AFB, the first thing I heard was that our commander, Malor Steiner, had made a stop at Biggs, crossed the border and got a good supply of 'fire water'. Anyone who has ever been around an F-86D knows there is no place for luggage of any kind. But being the ingenious fellow that he was, Major Steiner managed to stash it all in the cockpit, behind the seat among the oxygen bottles and such. To my utter delight, when he reached altitude all the corks let go, and let go, and let go!

Our record was praised in the base newspaper with very high praise going to aircraft malntenance and radar specialists for getting everything back in shape. Those guys put in some very long night hours, and I'm sure that had a lot to do with our success. But the pilots had a different slant on things.

The first few days we hardly scored any hits and everyone was down and disgusted. After a few days of this, someone suggested a party. That night almost everyone got pickled. Next morning when the sun came up, there was great difficulty getting guys to the flight line and into the air. But you know what? That was the day we started getting hits. Everyone would come in from the flight bragging on how great each run had been and describing graphically just how each run was accomplished.

It was truly a night for celebration! Naturally the main topic was why did we do so well when we had been doing so poorly? After much discussion, it was decided that the answer was obvious. We had always been taught that we were to make smooth corrections when following the steering dot on the radar, in order to make a successful run ending with the dot buried in the line when the rockets were fired. On that particular day, with everyone having an aching head from the night before's libations, no one wanted any unneccessary movement. Thus the flying was very, very smooth! Therefore, THE SAUCE GOT THE CREDIT!


THE 330th C' FLIGHT JUG BAND

by James B. McCain

 


Entering Air Force flight school as a member of '56-N' was a unique experience for a country kid from Rosepine, Louisiana. It was even more unique since I received my commission out of the Army ROTC - antiaircraft artillery branch! It was our first day at Malden AFB, Missouri, when the reality of just how strange I was hit me right between the eyes.

The colonel was briefing us on the program in which we were about to plunge. He asked, "How many of you have a degree in aeronautical engineering?" Several hands went up and he said, "You men won't have any trouble with this course." He continued on down through the various engineering degrees, the sciences, the math people. And always assuring each group that they would do well.

Finally, in a very disdainful voice I heard, "Do we have any music majors in here?" Well, I raised my lonely hand, not so much proud of being a music major, but sure that the colonel had gone through the papers on everyone and knew there was one of those critters in the room! Looking at me, the colonel said, "Mister, you're gonna have trouble with this course!" What a wonderful welcome. There's nothing like a good motivational speaker to get you started off on the right foot.

However, there was also a fellow in the class by the name of Snodgrass who was a member of The Society for the Preservation of Barbershop quartet Singing in America. Gathering two fellows named Hamaus and Moriority, along with me, together, he organized a quartet, and the "Half-Flaps Four" soon made its debut. Thereafter, every time the base commander was invited to speak somewhere, he took us along. It was usually worth a good meal at least.

Later, after completing the F-86D school at Perrin AFB, Texas, my brand new wife and I were off for Stewart AFB, New York and the 330th Fighter Interceptor Squadron. After being there about a year, my new flight leader, Captain Thomas Miller, got around to looking over my 201 file and had a bright idea. He called me in and told me that since I was a music major, I was hereby directed to form a 'jug band'.Then he got all the guys together and told them what was about to happen. He expected 'C' Flight to not only be the best in the air, but also Number One at the O-Club.

I went about collecting bottles of all shapes and sizes over the next few days, all the while trying to figure out how I was going to get these guys, who only knew music by what came out of a juke box, to know when and which 'jug' to blow. Lt Giles Desmond was the only exception as he played a pretty nice piano.

Our apartrnent became filled with bottles which I fine-tuned by filling them partially with water and marking the water line so they could be refilled prior to a practice session or 'performance'. I eventually came up with a 3x5 card system, and an 'arrangement' with some oom-pa-pa type accompaniment to go along with a melody played on the kazoo.

We met at Capt Miller's home for our first rehearsel. It was a riot! The sound made by blowing over the top of the bottles in harmony, has to be one of the silliest sounds ever to fall on the ear of man or beast. We would play a few bars and all fall on the floor laughing. Just when we got going pretty good, we added the kazoo melody and all fell on the floor again. I don't know how one can describe the sound. But the 'music' from the bottles was a bit like hearing a steam calliope at half steam.

After a few rehearsals, we finally made our 'debut' at the O-Club - and got rave reviews! I added two racks of eight Coke bottles, which allowed two of our more adept pilots to play "Chop Sticks". Of course, that required a Chinese gong, so we took a steel shelf out of personal equipment that, when suspended on a small rope, rendered quite a good 'gong' imitation when struck properly with a commode brush. Add to this my dignified conducting using a "plumber's helper". We were a group you could not soon forget, even if you wanted to!

The one regret of my short military career is that I have no pictures of the 'C Flight Jug Band.' There is no doubt in my mind that it can safely be said that there were some experiences and accomplishments of 'C Flight' that will never be duplicated in the annals of military history.


Colonel Thomas B. Whitehouse, commander of 3558th FTS at Perrin AFB, TX, accepts the Second Place trophy at the 1955 WorldWide Rocket Meet (l-r) Capt. Don Jabusch. Col Whitehouse. 1/Lt. Art Eennis, unknown, and Capt. Gus Sonderman. (Credit - Don Jabusch)

SABRE D TALES

(Or How The Big One Got Away)

by Don Jabusch

 

 

Most of the stories we are prone to tell involve flying the Sabre day fighter, the A, E, F, or H. There are some of us who, although we may have been less than enthusiastic with the prospect, flew the F-86D with some sort of skill and perhaps even a bit of pleasure

I recall one day going in to McGee-Tyson with two eager young pilots for a weekend of fun. As we approached the field I asked the tower if we might do a pitchup type of pattern and we were promptly granted permission. We descended on the initial approach to about 100-200 feet, Then, at the threshold of the runway, did a fan break up to the downwind and came in for our landing. Although my two wingmen had never done this sort of thing before (and neither had I!), their spacing turned out pretty well. As we were rolling out after touchdown the tower came through with "I haven't seen anything like that since World War 2!" It made me feel good that it was close enough that the guy could at least recognize what we were up to.

I was an aviation cadet from Class 50-B, and was assigned to Selfridge AFB upon graduation. Ten of my class went there, with seven going to the 61st Squadron, and the others going to the 62d and 63rd Squadrons. Doug Stewart was given the job of ascertaining that we could indeed fly jet fighters. We were not without some skill and I don't believe we crashed any airplanes. But it was still a chore for l/Lt. Stewart to make sure we did whatever the group thought was necessary to go on to squadron operations. For us in the 61st, it meant continuing to fly the F-80A Shooting Star as our squadron had yet to receive any Sabres. So we flew red-tailed rehabs from Alaska (ex 4th FG birds), and were happy to do that We even took a few over to O'Hare, Orchard Park AFB then, to stand alert. We were to repulse any air attack that might be precipitated by the onset of the Korean War, which started around that time.

From Seifridge I went to Korea. And from Korea I was assigned to Nellis in mid-1952. There were two Training Command F-86D training locations for most of the life of the D - Tyndail AFB, Florida, and Perrin AFB, Texas. I soon found myself in the D program at Tyndall. At the time, engine problems with the D made each flight something of a challenge, or at least an adventure. However, I don't recall ever having a serious problem flying the D. I do recall vividly my first close up look at the D and thinking, "My gracious, that's a big machine!" I hope you realize I cleaned up that quote so it was printable. When the D school was started at Perrin in early 1953, I went there to be an Instructor Pilot (You may notice that I moved around a lot It seems I couldn't hold a job!) By 1955, we (the gang at Perrin) had a rocketry team which I was a member. And we had outscored the team from Tyndall, which resulted in our representing Air Training Command at the WorldWide Air Force Rocketry Meet at Yuma.

The radar systems in our airplanes were all 'peaked up', and off we went to see if we could repeat our Tyndall win. As the meet went along, we got our share of hits on the rag (target sleeve), so that by the last day of the competition we were in second place, and only 600 points behind the leaders with one mission left to go - MINE!

I had been called off my last pass on a previous mission so I still had one chance to get us that needed 601 points. Those of you who participated in any of the rockety meets may remember at you took off with a T-33 chase, and you raised the 'hood' shortly after takeoff, flying the gauges for the rest of the flight. I was flying the COs plane (Colonel Thomas Whitehouse), as it was deemed to have the best radar at that point in the game, being able to get Contact' and 'lock-On' at a reasonable distance.

Steering seemed to be normal during the intercept. But when I called at the 20 seconds point the chase pilot delayed several seconds before giving me the "Clear!" signal. This bothered me a bit, but at least I was cleared to fire so I pressed on and waited until the fire control system was ready to fire the rockets.

It did in due time, and shortly thereafter the T-33 chase pilot called out, "He knocked the target off!". Since you scored a hit if one of your rockets hit the tow cable, I had gotten us the needed points and we were crowned the champs. Since the team we were trying to beat was a bunch of weenies flying F-94Cs, that made it all the better. I was sorely tempted to do a roll after hearing the chase pilot's excited call, but I was afraid he'd say I hadn't been 'under the hood'. So I gave up on that and headed for home.

Back on the ground, the team met me at the airplane with a fifth of scotch and much fanfare. However that was soon dampened by the chase pilot and a judge coming to look at my airplane. The chase pilot pointed up at the vertical tail of my Sabre. L0 and behold, there was a tear in the leading edge of the vertical stabilizer. According to the chase guy, I had clipped the tow cable with my airplane rather than shooting it off. With that obvious rip in the vertical tail, I couldn't very well argue about it We got second place, which was pretty impressive. But it was a pretty glum bunch of jocks that returned to Perrin.

We got a rousing welcome from the base when we arrived. But it sure would've been nicer to have brought the big one home


CHRISTMAS GREETING

by John Brown

 


It was near Christmas of 1958 and the weather had closed down the flying operations of the 440th Fighter Interceptor Squadron at Erding AB, Germany. If the weather was at 300 feet, with a half mile visibility, the 440th FIS would usually have two flights of two F-86Ds flying GCA patterns to meet the squadron required instrument flying time. At times we would use Marseille, France, or Aviano, Italy as alternates, even though both were at the extreme end of the Sabre Dog's range.

On this day the flight crews who were not sitting ready alert were receiving the standard training briefings: operations, intelligence, regulations, and other boring material. The ground crews were busy performing whatever necessary maintenance there was.

About 10 o'clock in the morning, a flight of jets flew very low and fast over socked in Erding AB. All the pilots ran outside to see what was going on. Eho esd it? And what were they doing up in this kind of weather?

As we looked up toward the fleeing jets, a bunch of cards were floating down all over the base. I picked one up and it read:

 

"The RCAF 440th Fighter Squadron wishes the US Air Force 440th FIS a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

Our ground crews said that a flight of four RCAF F-86s flew over the base, and opened their speed brakes. The cards had been packed into the speed brake bays and came floating down. The guys gathered them all up (FOD you know!), and went back to the normal routine.

Our squadron Operations Officer, Major Dave Robb, called the Erding Base Ops and asked what flight plan the Canadians had filed to get here in such crappy weather. Remember, the RCAF flew Sabre day fighters, with a very limited all-weather capability. Base Ops checked and came back with the answer - they had filed a VFR flight Plan from Zwiebrucken!