Lords of the Sky: Fighter Pilots and Air Combat, From the Red Baron to the F-16 (73 page)

“Two’s off,” his wingman sounded close. “Secondary’s!”

The Gun Dish symbol had disappeared. A mile from the highway, Scorch curved around to the south and sent a data link. Toxic Two was five miles away, also southbound on the other side of the road.

“Hold One Nine Zero . . . climb.”

Zooming upward, the pair of F-16s shot into the powder blue sky. Scorch leveled off, blinked and trimmed the fighter. Exhaling loudly, he looked back toward dozens of comma-shaped black clouds rising over the burning city. White flashes sparkled along the roads south and east of the capital while below him thousands of American tanks and APCs crawled north. Baghdad would fall. Not today or tomorrow, he knew. But soon.

Pulling a half-empty water bottle from the ankle pocket of his G suit, he put it on the glare shield next to the HUD. Dropping his mask from the right side, Scorch wiped his sweaty face and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Glancing left, he saw his wingman hanging in space about two miles away, seemingly motionless against the sky. You only saw movement if you looked down . . . or flew past a cloud. Flicking his left wing, Scorch watched the other F-16 pull up in an immense, lazy half barrel roll. As he floated overhead, upside down, the other pilot’s visored head was plainly visible and he lifted a hand.

Cocky little bastard.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, he chuckled, then raised his mask and keyed the mike.

“Luger . . . Toxic Three.”

“Go ahead, Toxic.”

“Toxic Zero Three, mission number Six Five Four Five . . . one by Roland destroyed, one Zoose probable. Estimate three APCs destroyed at north three, three . . . zero, four . . . seven, zero; east four, four . . . two, two. Relay for Ozark One One . . . cloverleaf destroyed at Mahmudiya. How copy?”

There was a pause and he dropped the mask to take a swig of warm, plastic-flavored water. The TWITCH air refueling track was on the nose for 226 miles so he pulled the power back to hold 400 knots. Fast enough. They’d hit the tanker, top off then beat feet for PeeSab.

“Toxic . . . Luger copies all. What type mission? CAS, SEAD or Killer Scout?”

The pilot swallowed the horrible warm water, then looked around the cockpit at the radar, the HUD, and all the displays and panels that let him do everything he’d done today. Chuckling again, he raised the mask to his face.

“That’s right, Luger . . . guess you could say that.”

EPILOGUE

IN JUST NINE
decades spinning propeller blades, fabric and machine guns gave way to advanced composites, amazingly powerful afterburning jet engines, and weapons that stagger the imagination. Technological spin-offs from conquering the air have given us Wi-Fi, space travel and cable television, to name just a few. Today every corner of the world is linked together, open to us in a way those first aviators could certainly appreciate, if not fully understand.

And what of aviators?

True, they’ve had to evolve from the first daredevil adventurers who replaced their cavalry horses with a flying machine. The nearly overwhelming amounts of information to be absorbed has necessitated technical aptitude and education far exceeding those early days of armed flight. Yet flying a fighter is still, as it ever was, an extremely physical profession. Muscles tear, joints come apart, and vertebrae crack; this is above the inherent risks and normal physiological strain of flying. No, a modern combat pilot fights with the mind as much as the muscles and would not survive without equal parts of both. But still there is something more. Something that has not changed, nor will it as long as there are fighter pilots.

Fighting spirit.

This elusive quality goes all the way back to the beginning, to Rippon and Manuel’s 1918 study of
The Essential Characteristics of Successful and Unsuccessful Aviators.
^*
Has that spirit been altered with the rise of technology? Has it been diluted or slowly bred out by those who don’t possess it themselves? In 1918, combat aviators were usually under twenty-five years of age, enjoyed “motoring, sports and women,” and valued “good hands” and a “controlled” nature. A 2013 survey conducted for this book revealed that 98 percent of the American fighter pilots had a technical degree, they engaged in sports of some type, and over 50 percent of them played a musical instrument. They were all fond of the fighter pilot lifestyle; taking risks, flying hard and being part of a truly elite group. Nearly all of them admitted to enjoying the opposite sex, yet somewhat surprisingly, unlike 51 percent of 1918 fighter pilots, the modern group held no grudge against marriage—only the
wrong
marriage!

They unanimously valued “good hands” and universally agreed, as did their forefathers, that this cannot be taught; you either have it or you don’t. Asked to identify the defining characteristics of successful fighter pilots, the answers included discipline (in the air at least), resourcefulness, physical and mental agility with the ability to “stay calm but become instantly aggressive” when needed.

As Rippon and Manuel concluded, “Anyone who has lived with pilots for any length of time cannot fail to notice that they possess in a very high degree a fund of animal spirits and excessive vitality.” So fortunately there have been no alterations in the essentials. The spirit of attack, aggressiveness, and absolute self-confidence remain most important whether the year is 1918 or today.

Eighty-eight years passed between Roland Garros shivering in an open cockpit as he fired his machine gun and the fighter pilots over Iraq cursing supersonic missiles and radar-guided anti-aircraft fire. It’s certainly fair to ask what has changed in that time.

Everything.

Afterburners and nine g’s; fighting faster than the speed of sound with weapons that can level nations. Dark nights, low fuel, and the coldness that only a fighter pilot can know as he’s isolated in a tiny, glowing cockpit hundreds of miles deep behind enemy lines. A pilot who can fly across the world without stopping and put a thousand pounds of high explosive within six inches of a target. Fighter pilots who are proud; these lords of the sky who fight and die for those they love and that which they hold dear.

Indeed, everything has changed.

And nothing has changed.

LEST WE FORGET.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

MY PERSONAL THANKS
to fellow pilots and authors Walter Boyne, Steven Coonts, Gen. Don Shepperd, Col. Jack Broughton, and Col. Ed Rock for volunteering not only their aviation expertise, but also their literary skills. So many other outstanding people contributed their time and experiences to this book that merely mentioning their names doesn’t seem quite enough. I wholeheartedly acknowledge the debt owed to each of you for giving up time and energy to push me in the right direction—a work of this magnitude would not have been possible without them. My profound gratitude to:

Capt. Jeff Ashby, USN; Dr. Stein Bronsky; Bob Dorrough; Col. Jim Good, USMC; Col. Dan Hampton, USMC; Biddie Hampton; Phillip Handleman; Gen. Paul Kattu, USAF; Lt. Col. Mark Larsen, USMC; Col. Scott Manning, USAF; Diane Manning; Gen. David Moody, USAF; Marion Moody; Christina Olds; Dolphin Overton Jr.; Gen. Bill “Kanga” Rew, USAF; Christy Rew; Buddy Sims; DeEtte Star; Dr. Philip Steeves; Stacey Strock; Ken and Jennifer Wyatt. And always to Beth, Tiffany, Dana, and Jaime Hampton for their forbearance and patience.

Several organizations have been invaluable in gathering the immense volume of material required to write this book. My sincere appreciation to the Pritzker Military Library in Chicago, the Library of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, the National Museum of the Air Force, the United States Naval Academy, the River Rats, the Society of Wild Weasels, and the Vintage Aero Museum. My admiration and gratitude also to Mr. Will Boucher, for his painstaking research and beautiful artwork and to Mr. Michael Aten, for the stories about Marion Aten, a nearly forgotten warrior.

Special respects to Col. Tom Kirk and Col. Jack Broughton for both their personal sacrifices and their willingness to share memories of Vietnam and the mighty Thud. To Col. Ed Rock, Sabre jock and Thud pilot, for his patience and corrections with the Korean and Vietnam War chapters, and to Buddy Sims, former Forward Air Controller, who introduced me to both men. Fighter pilots like you were a true inspiration to all who followed, especially me.

Humble thanks to Allen Lamb, fighter pilot extraordinaire, not only for his memories and flying skill but for helping to create the Wild Weasels. To Rus Greer, the “Daddy Rabbit,” and Dale Shoupe, voices from my past who made it possible for me to be part of all this. Last, and always, my deepest appreciation to my editor, Peter Hubbard, and everyone at HarperCollins who worked so hard to make this idea a reality.

APPENDIX A

ANATOMY OF A DOGFIGHT

MIDWAY THROUGH THE
Great War many of the basic principles of aerial combat had been worked out. Interestingly, most of them would never change and survive, in one form or another, to this day. Others, most notably aircraft performance and weapons capabilities, would evolve dramatically over the years. New technology would permit new tactics. Methods of fighting would vary with all this but the underlying rationale would be as familiar to Edward Mannock or Oswald Boelcke as they are to a modern fighter pilot.

BASIC FIGHTER MANEUVERS

The notion of the
Turn Circle
—the radius made by a turning aircraft—is a prime example. Visualize a plane leaving a wake in the air as a boat does in the water, a wake you could see if you were sitting on a cloud looking down at the moving fighters. Not truly a circle, it’s more like a series of expanding and contracting ellipses created by a maneuvering aircraft.

The Turn Circle grows or shrinks as the conditions in a dogfight change—airspeed, altitude, and aircraft performance all influence this as do the pilot’s maneuvers. Now, understanding this concept was vital because it meant getting into an ideal firing position. Single-seat fighters, originally with forward-firing guns, were aimed like a rifle by physically pointing the plane at the target. If you got behind your single-seat enemy, then he couldn’t shoot back
and
by attacking from back there he might not see you until it was too late. So to get behind and stay there long enough to fire, you had to “enter” his circle by fitting your turning aircraft inside his turn long enough to kill him.

Where a clear technical advantage existed this wasn’t a problem, like Hawker’s fight against the Red Baron. But if two similarly capable planes meet on equal terms then something else has to be done to get the edge.

Turn Circles can also be exploited by other things. By maneuvering in the vertical (using altitude), an aircraft with a bigger circle can fit inside a smaller circle by using that altitude as room to turn. Known as Turning Room, this is the physical distance (in feet) required to rotate the aircraft and point where you want to shoot. In World War I this meant turning enough to bring your forward guns to bear. An aircraft with better maneuverability will normally require less distance to turn and fire.

A Turn Circle also changes because of an engine’s capability to sustain or increase power. During the Great War there was really none of the fine throttle control, called power management, found in later conflicts. Most pilots just went to full throttle during a fight and left it there. Power, along with performance, dictated how fast you could move the nose of the aircraft around to where you wanted it. This was especially critical in the first air war since the principal single-seat weapon was a forward-fixed machine gun.

Airspeed, your engine’s power to sustain that airspeed, and the altitude you have available to exchange for Turning Room or speed all make a difference. There is no such thing as a “standard” dogfight because the parameters are always different. This is one reason why a pilot must thoroughly understand what his plane can do so he can instantly apply these capabilities to any situation.

Adapting aerobatics to achieve a weapon’s parameters in a dogfight was a very natural progression
.
To
loop
, the pilot continuously pulls straight back on the stick bringing the plane straight up, over the top and back down the other side of a big ellipse, like an egg viewed in profile. The narrowest point is the top of the egg where the aircraft is slow and the turn is the smallest. Looping is a very basic maneuver nowadays but was quite daring in 1914. Aircraft were fragile, wing loading wasn’t really understood nor were the stresses caused by g-forces, so motors could quit or wings could come off. The
Immelmann
turn
is a variation of this maneuver except the pilot rolls out at the top of the loop heading in the opposite direction from which he started. This exchanges airspeed for altitude so the pilot comes out of it much higher but slower. A
split S
is the descending version of this, where the pilot rolls out at the bottom of the loop. He’s now exchanged altitude for airspeed and will emerge much lower but faster. Most maneuvering at this stage was a variation of these basic aerobatics.
Spinning
was usually fatal until mid-1916, when a recovery procedure was devised, and from then on it was taught as a last-ditch maneuver to defeat gunshots.

GUNNERY

You could be the greatest natural aviator in the world but if you can’t hit anything you’ve failed as a fighter pilot. As opposed to other types of flying, here you actually, physically
fight
and you need weapons for this—anything else is just an air show. Now, you certainly don’t have to shoot an enemy down from behind but it is easier this way since he may not see you and there are few angles involved. Firing from higher angles, called
deflection
shooting, takes a great deal of practice and natural skill. Think of standing in a field watching a flock of ducks fly by perpendicular to where you are. Shooting directly at the duck won’t work because as the bullet travels so does the bird, and your shot will miss behind. So you have to guess where the bullet and bird will come together and aim at this point.