The floating airfields of the U. S. Navy in the Western Pacific, the carriers of Task Force 77, first saw action in Vietnam on 2 August 1964 in response to an emergency call from the destroyer Maddox (DD-731)1 following an unprovoked attack by North Vietnamese torpedo boats. Task Force 77’s aircraft also initiated the 37-month bombing effort of North Vietnam on 7 February 1965. As on many other occasions, carrier aircraft were first at the scene of trouble.
It was the beginning of a 37-month long carrot-and- stick campaign to persuade Hanoi to cease its aggression against South Vietnam. It was always to be a restrained, graduated, strategic bombing effort on carefully selected targets, a stop—listen—and talk interdiction campaign. Until President Johnson’s dramatic announcement on 31 March 1968 that there would be no more bombing of North Vietnam above the 20th parallel, the carriers of Task Force 77 would cruise in the waters of the Gulf of Tonkin as close as 60 miles to the enemy’s coast.
What were the lessons, the mistakes, the accomplishments of that campaign? What did the campaign teach us?
This article will analyze the actions and accomplishments of Task Force 77, the attack aircraft carrier force at "Yankee” and "Dixie” Stations, beginning with the punitive attacks in August 1964 and closing with the start of the bombing curtailment on 1 April 1968, from which point the U. S. withdrawal from Vietnam can be measured.
Air Interdiction Strategy
From the beginning, the U. S. objective in South Vietnam was to preserve the South Vietnamese government as an independent, stable government that would deserve and receive popular support. In 1965, however, the Republic of South Vietnam was on the ragged edge of collapse. The Viet Cong, supported by North Vietnam and the North Vietnamese Army, had occupied large parts of the country and were subjecting the people to armed attacks and acts of terrorism, including assassination. Although the South Vietnamese government was functioning under a constitution, the Communist pressure had created such political instability that coup d'état had been taking place with regularity since the fall of 1964. Animosity between Buddhists and Catholics was high, and attempts to resolve political differences among the religious factions were at an impasse.
The U. S. military strategy to preserve South Vietnam had two interlocking objectives: inside that country ground and air campaign to defeat the enemy, or force their withdrawal; and, outside that country, an air and naval offensive against North Vietnam to force her to stop her aggression. In the beginning, it was fondly hoped and believed that Ho Chi Minh would conclude that, against such American military involvement, this could not succeed.
The air bombing campaign against North Vietnam was initiated on the assumption that most North Vietnamese and Viet Cong war-making material came over land into South Vietnam; until February 1965, it was not believed that much of it came by sea. With the use of highly selective air power and, very shortly, by creating an effective anti-infiltration barrier along the South Vietnamese coast, the belief was that North Vietnam would be prevented from sustaining the war inside South Vietnam. The United States hoped that the aggression could be choked off by selective and gradually increasing attacks on North Vietnam's military installations and power plants, her petroleum products, her logistic storage areas, her war-supporting industrial facilities, and the vehicles, roads, and bride by which war material moved south.
Throughout the campaign a fundamental principle was to avoid damaging nonmilitary targets and to avoid harm to noncombatants.
From the beginning, the air interdiction effort was inhibited by major restrictions. One of these was the unpredictability of the weather in the monsoon season of Southeast Asia, which greatly favored the enemy Since Washington maintained control of the war from afar, the fighting forces' ability to react to changes in the weather was severely handicapped. The other major restrictions were political and they were self-imposed
The sanctuaries, base camps, and supply depots in Cambodia were declared off limits to our aircraft. Immediate pursuit of the enemy was forbidden. Haiphong, the key port of North Vietnam, through which 85% of North Vietnam's imports flowed, was never mined or blockaded or made to suffer major or crippling damage from air attacks. Instead, during the days the weather was good enough for such precision attacks, and often at night in hazardous low-level attacks under the flickering illumination of flares, shiploads of materials which had been unloaded at Haiphong were sought out and bombed on their journey south. Truck by truck and storage site by storage site—if they could be found under the dense canopy of jungle and camouflage—they were destroyed.
The Initial Involvement
Task Force 77's involvement against North Vietnam can be dated from 2 August 1964, the day North Vietnamese torpedo boats attacked the destroyer Maddox while that ship was on a routine reconnaissance patrol in international waters. Such patrols had taken place before, and the ships had always operated in international waters off the North Vietnamese coast, observing junk traffic and naval activity, and collecting hydrographic data and electronic intelligence.
During the sunny forenoon of 2 August, 28 miles off the coast of North Vietnam, the Maddox's radar detected three contacts closing at approximately 40 knots. At such speeds, they could only be torpedo boats. For two hours, Commander Herbert L. Ogier, the Destroyer’s Commanding Officer, and his CIC team, with the embarked destroyer division commander, Captain J.J. Herrick, the on-scene commander, watched the approaching boats. Despite the Maddox's evasive action and increased speed, they continued to close her until visual identification became possible. The trio were indeed torpedo boats-82-foot, aluminum-hulled craft of the Soviet-built P-4 class, each armed with two 18-inch torpedoes and capable of 40 knots. There could be no mistaking their hostile intent. Nor, in the clear afternoon skies, could the North Vietnamese mistake the Maddox for anything other than a U. S. man-of-war.
The Maddox fired three warning shots. When these were ignored, Commander Ogier ordered destructive fire. One North Vietnamese boat was probably hit, but fired two torpedoes, both of which missed.2 The second boat retired to the north. The third boat, believed hit at least once, passed approximately 1,700 yards astern of the Maddox, firing a machine gun. (Only one of the 12.7-millimeter bullets hit. It penetrated the destroyer’s Mk-56 director foundation and ricocheted into a ready service locker.) The Maddox broke off further pursuit and retired from the area.
Meanwhile, four F-8E aircraft from the Ticonderoga (CVA-14) joined the action.
"We had launched at 1415 from 'Tico’,” said Commander R. F. Mohrhardt, "on a training mission to conduct a practice coordinated strike in the vicinity of the ship with other CVW-5 aircraft. At time of takeoff we weren’t aware that Maddox was under attack.
"At approximately 1500, we were vectored north to assist Maddox, then about 300 miles north of us. The weather was good, but it took us almost 30 minutes to get to the scene. Maddox's air search radar and UHF/DF gear were not working, and she wasn’t TACAN equipped, so we had to depend on our own UHF/ADF gear. Some miles out, my wingman picked up Maddox on his AI [airborne intercept] radar and a few minutes later we made a visual sighting.
"During our flight north, we switched to Maddox's control and Commodore Herrick gave us a running sitrep on what had happened and was happening. He made it clear that Maddox had been attacked, that he was on-scene commander, and that our orders were to take the PTs under attack as soon as possible and destroy them.
"As we approached, I could see Maddox headed south at flank speed, and about a mile or so to the north, 3 P-4 boats heading north at high speed, about 30 miles off the coast. They were in a line abreast with one boat trailing slightly. We charged our guns, got into position to attack, and since my section was lowest on fuel, I agreed that my section would attack the trailing PT boat, while the other would work over the lead pair. My wingman and I made our first pass and got off our Zunis. Mine hit in the wake astern and his hit right in front of the PT’s bow. As we 'bent it’ around to make a strafing pass, I could see that the trailing boat was now dead in the water. Numerous 20-mm. hits were scored on the strafing runs and, as I pulled off, I saw the boat burning and smoking heavily at the stern and the crew throwing gear and smoke lights over the side, probably to mark their position. In my opinion, our attack sank that third P-4.”
As the Maddox left the area, it was obvious that an unprovoked, premeditated, daylight attack had been made on a U. S. ship on the high seas, an attack which quickly led to direct American intervention.
President Johnson warned North Vietnam the next day that "United States ships have traditionally operated freely on the high seas in accordance with the rights guaranteed by international law…They will continue to do so,” he said, "and will take whatever measures are appropriate for their defense.” He further warned North Vietnam to be under "no misapprehension as to the grave consequences which would inevitably result from any further unprovoked military action against United States forces.”
By Presidential order, the Tonkin Gulf patrol was reinforced by a second destroyer, the Turner Joy (DD-951). The other carrier in the Western Pacific, the Constellation (CVA-64), left Hong Kong, 400-odd nautical miles distant, and, in difficult weather, headed for the Gulf. During daylight hours a combat air patrol from the nearby Ticonderoga (Captain D. W. Cooper with CTF 77, Rear Admiral R. B. Moore, embarked protected the two destroyers. To reduce the risk of night torpedo boat attacks, the two ships retired each after noon to a "night steaming area” about 100 offshore.
On 3 August the Maddox, now accompanied by the Turner Joy (Commander R. C. Barnhart), again entered the Gulf of Tonkin with orders to fire only in self-defense and with restrictions against immediate pursuit. But there was no response.
On the night of 4 August 1964, however, while the destroyers were proceeding easterly at a speed of about 20 knots, the Maddox spotted and tracked at least 5 high-speed radar contacts 36 miles away. The night of 4-5 August was perfect for attack by torpedo craft. There were many low clouds, no moon, and very poor visibility. Because of the high closure rate, and a similarity to the 2 August attack, the "blips" were evaluated as probable torpedo boats. The Maddox and the Turner Joy changed course and increased speed.
About an hour later, with the ships then 60 miles off the North Vietnamese coast, both held radar contacts 14 miles to the east. To those watching the radar, it soon became evident from the maneuvers of the approaching blips that they were pressing an attack. On Commodore Herrick's command, both destroyers opened fire at a range of 6,000 yards. Torpedo noises were than heard on the Maddox's sonar and this information was immediately passed to her companion. In the nick of time, both ships twisted to avoid the torpedo, and seconds later a wake was sighted passing 300 feet to port of the Turner Joy.
One boat, taken under fire by the Turner Joy, was hit several times and disappeared from all radars.
Meanwhile, despite the very bad weather, aircraft from CVW-5 on the USS Ticonderoga, 120 miles away, were approaching to lend assistance. Two A-1 Skyraiders from VA-52, flown by Commander G. H. Edmondson and Lieutenant J. A. Barton, dropped flares, then made passes at 700 and 1,500 feet altitude, respectively, sighting gun flashes on the surface of the water. During one pass over the two destroyers, both pilots sighted a “snakey” high speed wake one and one-half miles ahead of the Maddox.
At midnight, all radar contact was lost and the action ended. Less than half an hour after the second attack, Admiral U. S. G. Sharp, Jr., Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, recommended immediate punitive air strikes by TF 77 against the North Vietnamese torpedo boat bases. Two hours later, a Presidential decision, relayed from Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara through the Joint Chiefs of Staff, ordered strikes at first light the following day. The assigned targets were four North Vietnamese torpedo boat bases plus the oil storage facilities at Phuc Loi and Vinh.
Meanwhile the Constellation pushed through heavy weather to join the Ticonderoga.
It was a frantic day on the two carriers. The JCS "execute" message for Operation "Pierce Arrow," initially ordered an attack at 0700 local time (1900 Washington time). Bombs were loaded, pilots were briefed, and an early morning attack was readied.
At 2340 on 4 August, Washington time (1140 on 5 August in the Gulf of Tonkin) the President announced to the public that the United States was making a measured response to the North Vietnamese aggression:
"My fellow Americans,” he said, "as President and Commander in Chief, it is my duty to the American people to report that renewed hostile actions against United States’ ships in the high seas in the Gulf of Tonkin have today required me to order the military forces of the United States to take action in reply…
"That reply is now being given, as I speak to you tonight. Air action is now in execution3 against gun boats and certain supporting facilities in North Vietnam which have been used in these hostile operations…
"Our response for the present will be limited and fitting…
"We Americans know—although others appear to forget—the risk of spreading the conflict. We still seek no wider war…”
Commencing at approximately 1230 local time, 64 strike aircraft were launched from the Ticonderoga and Constellation and were over their targets about 1315.4 Ten of the Constellation's A-is, led by Commander H. F. Griffith, plus two F-4s and 8 A-4s from the same ship, struck PT boat bases at the northernmost target, at Hon Gai. Further south, 5 other "Connie” A-4s, 3 F-4s, and 4 A-is struck the PT boat bases at Loc Chao. Six F-8S from the "Tico” led by Commander Mohrhardt (VF-53) hit the PT boats at Quang Khe, and 26 other Tico aircraft attacked the two oil storage dumps at Vinh. This attack, led by Commander Wesley L. McDonald (Commanding Officer, VA-56), and Commander W. E. Carman (Commanding Officer, VF-53), was over in minutes.* 5 Smoke from the 10 Vinh petroleum storage tanks rose to 14,000 feet and damage was estimated at 90%. Eight gunboats and torpedo boats were destroyed and 21 damaged. Thus, the North Vietnamese Navy paid a high price for the ineffective efforts of their torpedo craft. Significantly, U. S. retaliation had come from the sea, where American power was all powerful and unhampered by the need to coordinate the response with foreign states.
But the retaliation was not without cost. Two of the Constellation's aircraft were lost to AAA fire at Hon Gai. Lieutenant (j.g.) Richard Sather, flying a VA-145 Sky- raider, was shot down and killed over Loc Chao; Lieutenant (j.g.) Everett Alvarez, flying an A-4C, was shot down over Hon Gai and became the first U. S. pilot to be captured by the North Vietnamese. At this writing he remains a prisoner. Two other "Connie” aircraft were hit but were recovered safely.
Six days later, on 10 August 1964, Congress passed a joint resolution—later to be called the Gulf of Tonkin resolution—that termed the attacks on the destroyers a part of a "deliberate and systematic campaign of aggression that the Communist regime in North Vietnam had been waging against its neighbors and the nations joined with them.” The resolution approved the nation’s determination to "take all necessary measures to repel any armed attack ...” and to prevent any further aggression until the President determined that "peace and security of the area is reasonably assured.”
"For the next six months (until the retaliatory strikes beginning 7 February 1965),” said Rear Admiral H. L. Miller, CTF 77, "the operations of Task Force 77 consisted of standing by for retaliatory strikes over North Vietnam with various bomb loads and missiles. Photographic flights were made over South Vietnam and Laos watching for buildups of Viet Cong and the infiltration of North Vietnamese along the Ho Chi Minh trail. Strikes by small groups of carrier aircraft were made on trucks and material storage areas in South Vietnam whenever they were found.”
The Start of Naval Air Interdiction (1965)
The attacks just described were punitive. The routine bombing of North Vietnam by TF 77 aircraft did not begin until 7 February 1965. The original nickname, Flaming Dart, was given to a plan for retaliatory air strikes if overt acts of Viet Cong aggression against American forces in South Vietnam continued. Such attacks (for example, a Christmas Eve attack on a hotel used as an officers' quarters in downtown Saigon) did continue.
On 7 February, the Viet Cong launched a heavy mortar attack on United States forces and billets at the Pleiku Airbase and nearby Camp Holloway. Eight Americans were killed and 109 were wounded.
Following this attack, TF 77 was alerted and Flaming Dart was readied for execution. Rear Admiral Miller embarked in the Ranger (CV A-61), received orders at 0621 on 7 February 1965 to assemble TF77 and to prepare for retaliatory strikes on North Vietnam. Two other carriers, the Coral Sea (CVA-43) and the Hancock (CVA-19), then en route to Cubi Point in the Philip pines, reversed course and joined the Ranger in the early afternoon. The pace was intense aboard the three ships as magazines were opened, pilots were briefed, and bomb racks loaded. Commander Warren H. Sells Commander Carrier Air Wing 21, aboard the Hancock would be airborne coordinator for the strike.
At 1240, orders to attack were received. Despite very poor weather over the targets, the Coral Sea and Hancock catapulted off 20 and 29 aircraft, respectively, for strike against the North Vietnamese army barracks and poor facilities at Dong Hoi, just north of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). TF 77 was in action in less than nine hours after the first alerting message.
Simultaneously, the Ranger launched a 34-plane strike against the Vit Thu Lu barracks, 15 miles inland and 5 miles north of the Demilitarized Zone, but the northeast monsoon prevented her attacks, as well as others by the U. S. Air Force and the South Vietnamese Air Force, from being carried out.
"At this stage of the war," said Rear Admiral Miller "attack groups were assigned a specific target, as in this case for Ranger. If that target was closed at the time of attack, there was no recourse but to drop the ordnance in the water."
At Dong Hoi, ten buildings were destroyed, two Others heavily damaged, and an undetermined number left burning by aircraft from the Coral Sea and the Hancock. One A-4E from the Coral Sea was lost, three others were damaged, and five of the Hancock's aircraft were also damaged. The downed Skyhawk, flown by Lieutenant Edward A. Dickson of VA-155, was hit in the port wing. Lieutenant Dickson, however, gallantly pressed home his attack and dropped his ordnance before turning toward the safety of the sea. He was seen to eject above a cloud bank one to two miles off the coast but, despite a 48-hour search, he was not found.
The enemy's response was not long in coming. On 10 February the enemy blew up a United States enlisted men's billet at Qui Nhon, killing 23 men and wounding 21 others. Again, Admiral Sharp recommended prompt and emphatic retaliation.
Flaming Dart Two began on 11 February. The Coral Sea, Hancock, and Ranger were ordered to strike the Chanh Hoa balracks. The selected times-over-target (0900 for cvw-9, 0915 for CVW-21 and 0930 for cvw-15) were chosen at the Washington level in order to coincide with a statement made by President Johnson in Washington announcing the retaliation. Tactically, the choice of time was poor, for in February, the "crachin" fog, rain, and low visibility characteristic of the northeast monsoon would almost certainly be present in the early morning.
Ninety-nine aircraft were launched by the three carriers. The predictably bad weather was present, with clouds as low as 500 feet and visibility less than a mile, and it gave the pilots trouble. The knowledge that the weather would be bad determined the choice of weapons. In this case "Snakeye," a retarded bomb, had to be used in order to provide bomb-blast escape distances. Moreover, the precise numbers of attacking and support aircraft, and the number, types, and fuzing of weapons were specified by Washington. The use of napalm was forbidden. The Ranger, Coral Sea, and Hancock made their attacks in scud clouds at 500 feet, with a cloud layer at 1,000 feet and the visibility less than a mile. Three aircraft from the Coral Sea were lost and several others were hit by antiaircraft artillery.6 Two of the three pilots were recovered, but the third was captured when his F-8D was crippled by ground fire. The accuracy and vigor of North Vietnamese antiaircraft defense response was clearly evident.
It was evident, too, that such tight tactical restrictions on bombing, together with tactical operational decisions made at long distance for political purposes, would not achieve the desired result. This type of tit-for-tat response was not likely to deter the Communists from further attacks inside South Vietnam. Indeed, it did not. The Viet Cong continued and increased their hit-and-run attacks on U. S. forces and bases. On 30 March, for example, they bombed the U. S. Embassy in Saigon.
As Viet Cong pressure mounted in South Vietnam, Washington deemed it appropriate to provide more and better protection for U. S. installations ashore. Accordingly, on 8-10 March 1965, Marines from the Seventh Fleet were landed at Da Nang. CTF 11 provided combat air patrol and photographic coverage for this landing.
President Johnson’s speech at Baltimore on 7 April 1965 put American objectives in Southeast Asia in an eloquent frame for the long campaign which was about to open:
"Our objective is the independence of South Vietnam and its freedom from attack. . . . We will do everything necessary to reach that objective, and we will do only what is absolutely necessary.
"We will not be defeated.
"We will not grow tired.
"We will not withdraw, either openly or under the cloak of a meaningless agreement.
", . . And we remain ready ... for unconditional discussion.”
Early Rolling Thunder Raids
The bombing of North Vietnam, no longer limited to punitive raids, now began under a new notion (at this stage of the war it could not yet be called a concept) called Rolling Thunder and, like thunder, it was to be spasmodic. In the beginning the general thinking was to draw a bombing line somewhere across the southern part of North Vietnam and move the line northward very slowly. As the line neared Hanoi, it was believed that the North Vietnamese would capitulate to save their capital. As we shall see, however, this scheme was never followed. As the months rolled by and the war drew nearer to Hanoi, a sanctuary zone was placed around both Hanoi and Haiphong. Strikes in these sanctuaries were permitted only on special occasions.
Rolling Thunder operations were always conducted under strict controls and with specific guidance from the highest levels of government—targeting by remote control. As on the previous occasions, commanders were told on which day to strike; in many cases they were told the hour of attack (which ignored weather conditions). They were told by Washington the number of sorties by task and by target; the type, number, and fuzing of weapons to be used; and, sometimes, even the direction of attack. Attacks were limited to primary targets or one of two alternates. Unexpended ordnance had to be dumped into the South China Sea. Pre-strike reconnaissance was not permitted. Bomb damage assessment (photographic) aircraft were to accompany strike aircraft or follow them immediately; subsequent bomb damage assessment was to be conducted by these aircraft, unescorted, flying at medium altitudes only. No aircraft was to be re-loaded and returned for a second attack. If the target weather was bad on the approved day, the mission could not be rescheduled without repeating the elaborate process of gaining approval from Washington. Enemy aircraft had to be positively identified before shooting, a tough requirement for aircraft flying at Mach 1. Rules were so stringent that only military trucks could be hit, and these had to be moving on highways, not parked in villages. (Later this rule was relaxed to allow trucks within 100 meters, and later still, within 300 meters, of the roads to be attacked, but never in the village sanctuaries.) No one explained to the pilots how to distinguish a military truck from a nonmilitary one.
To facilitate the initial Rolling Thunder coordination between the U. S. Air Force and the Seventh Fleet, target times were assigned to each. But this was difficult to coordinate and soon this system was replaced by the division of North Vietnam into geographical areas known as "route packages.” By this system, interference between TF 77 and the Seventh Air Force was lessened and, in addition, it became possible to assign responsibility to each Service for target development, intelligence data collection, and target analysis in its own areas.
A geographic point in the Gulf of Tonkin was selected as the locus of operations for TF 77 and was given the code name, Yankee Station.7
As the air campaign progressed, Admiral Sharp reminded his operational commanders and pilots that Rolling Thunder was unusual. "It does not seek to inflict maximum damage on the enemy,” he said. "Instead, it is a precise application of military pressure for the specific purpose of halting aggression in South Vietnam.”
Task Force 77 pitched in with vigor to carry out the orders. On 18 March 1965, aircraft from the Coral Sea and the Hancock hit supply buildings at Phu Van and Vinh Son army supply depots. Several aircraft sustained light damage from antiaircraft artillery, but none was lost.
Eight days later, on 26 March, 70 aircraft from the same two carriers struck four North Vietnamese radar sites at Vinh Son, Cap Mui Ron, Ha Tinh, and Bach Long Vi Island, causing heavy damage. Both pilots were safely recovered from an A-4 and an F-8 which were hit.
On 29 March, the two carriers again launched 70 aircraft. This time they struck radar and communication facilities on Bach Long Vi, a small island strategically located in the Gulf of Tonkin. Weather and visibility were poor, with a ragged 5,000-foot ceiling. Four of the first six aircraft over the target—three of them squadron commanders—were hit and three of them shot down. Commander Jack H. Harris, Commanding Officer of VA-155, had a flameout and ejected into the sea, but was rescued. Commander W. N. Donnelly Commanding Officer of VF-154, was also hit and landed in the water four miles north of the island: The low altitude, upside-down ejection at 400 knots dislocated his shoulder and fractured a neck vertebra. (He spent 45 hours in a raft before being rescued by an Air Force Hu-16 Albatross. Twice during the first night, Commander Donnelly crawled painfully under his life raft when an unidentified destroyer type vessel without flag or running lights passed as near as 300 yards to him. Lieutenant Commander Kenneth E. Hume, also from VF-154, was killed during a run on the target. The fourth, Commander Peter Mongilardi, Commanding Officer of VA-153, took a hit in his wing and was "towed" home by a tanker aircraft, pumping fuel over board as fast as the tanker could give it to him. However, he was recovered aboard the Coral Sea safely.
At 1600, 31 March, 60 aircraft from the Coral Sea and the Hancock again hit radar installations at Cape Mui Ron, 78 nautical miles northwest of the DMI. In the closest attack yet to Hanoi, on 3 April, the two carriers conducted two strikes—one in the morning one in the afternoon, hitting and wrecking a bridge at Dong Phuong Thong, 70 miles south of the enemy capital, with 60 tons of ordnance. The attacks were led by the two air wing commanders, Commander H.P. Glindeman, Jr., and Commander W. H. Sells.
As a result of this early interdiction effort, the countermoves of the North Vietnamese soon became apparent. Instead of moving by companies, battalions, or regiments, the enemy soldiers traveled in small units along what formerly were little-used roads and trails hidden beneath the heavy jungle foliage. Collectively these are called the Ho Chi Minh trail. New parallel land routes for trucks were opened and trucks were imported from Communist countries to use on the growing road system to replace trains. The new transportation network was complete with many supply dumps, rest camps, truck depots, and repair facilities along the way. Trucks moved war materials largely at night. Because our rules forbade attacks on villages, the enemy began to park trucks in the villages during daylight where they could not be attacked. Bomb damage was quickly repaired—a bomb crater in an hour, a bridge in a day. Camouflage was employed extensively and new construction put factories, oil lines, and supply dumps underground or in caves. Inland waterways and canals were also used, as were thousands of bicycles for shuttling supplies southward.
Establishment of Dixie Station
In April 1965, Task Force 77 pilots drew still another role—a role which for the nth time reflected their value—flying regular close support missions against the Viet Cong in South Vietnam. The initial effort by aircraft from the Midway and the Coral Sea, plus Marine F-8Es from VMF-212 flying from the Oriskany with CVW-16, was so successful that General Westmoreland requested the permanent assignment of a carrier stationed off the northern half of South Vietnam to support his ground forces. Since land bases for tactical air were not available and could not be produced quickly enough, CincPacFlt directed on 16 May the establishment of Dixie Station, about 100 miles southeast of Cam Ranh Bay. This assignment would last for 15 months until land based aviation had been established sufficiently so as to be able to handle the bombing load within South Vietnam.
But this new assignment meant that three of the four deployed carriers, one ship at Dixie Station and two at Yankee Station, had to spend a grueling and unacceptable 80% of their time at sea, with precious little time for rest and maintenance.8 On 5 June, therefore, the deployment of five carriers to the Western Pacific was begun. (Even so, for the remainder of the war, the deployed carriers averaged 75% of their time at sea.)
The Growth of the Enemy's Defenses
In the fall of 1964, the air defense system of North Vietnam was weak. As the war became hotter, however, a dramatic and ominous buildup was observed in all four parts of North Vietnam's air defense system—radar networks, surface-to-air missile (SAM) defenses, MIG fighter aircraft, and automatic antiaircraft (AAA) guns.
On April 1965, photography revealed the first North Vietnamese surface-to-air missile site under construction, some 15 miles southeast of Hanoi. The pictures came from the cameras of an RF-8 Crusader from the Coral Sea on an early reconnaissance mission. The wet prints were rushed to Rear Admiral Edward C. Outlaw, who had relieved Admiral Miller as CTF 77.
Said Admiral Outlaw: "It was the first confirmation of the enemy missile buildup, which we had expected for some time. I immediately flew to Saigon to show the pictures to Major General J. H. Moore, Commanding General, Seventh Air Force, and his staff.
The second SAM-occupied site appeared about a month later and, by mid-July 1965, several more sites were photographed in various stages of construction, forming an irregular ring around Hanoi and Haiphong. But still the authority to attack them could not be obtained.
The hesitation in Washington was partly due, of course, to a fear that if the missile sites were attacked, Russian technicians might be killed. Others insisted that the SAM batteries were defensive only; that if American aircraft did not attack Hanoi and Haiphong, the enemy would not fire at them. Still others feared that such attacks might be regarded as U. S. escalation.
Permission to attack the missile sites did not come for many weeks, until after a SAM had destroyed an Air Force F-4C on 24 July, by which time numerous sites were under construction. Three days later the Air Force was authorized to hit two SAM sites northwest of Hanoi in retaliation. The attacks were to be made on one day only, and the pilots were specifically forbidden to attack any air base from which enemy migs might oppose the mission.
Fifty-five Air Force aircraft attacked the SAM sites and the guns protecting them; the price paid was four aircraft lost. Another strike was ordered by Washington, and while photography taken on 8 August showed the mobile SAMs still in place at the two sites, the strike group found the sites empty the following day. It was an early and convincing demonstration of the mobility of the Soviet SA-2 missiles, and a preview of how the enemy would move his weapons in the months ahead.
The use of missiles by Hanoi led to the establishment on 12 August 1965 of Operation Iron Hand,9 an anti-SAM campaign using the Navy-developed Shrike missile, which could identify and home on a SAM battery’s guidance radar.
On the night of 11-12 August, in fact, the Navy lost its first aircraft to SAMs. Two A-4Es, from VA-23, flying off the Midway, were at 9,000 feet, on a road recce mission 60 miles south of Hanoi. The flight leader, Lieutenant Commander D. Roberge, and his wingman, Lieutenant (j.g.) Donald H. Brown, Jr., observed what appeared to be two flares glowing eerily beneath the clouds 15 miles north of their position. They watched what appeared to be two "hunting” spots of light come out of the clouds and move closer and closer. In sudden recognition of danger, both pilots pushed over and added full power. It was too late. Seconds later the SAMs exploded, destroying Lieutenant (j.g.) Brown’s aircraft and damaging Lieutenant Commander Roberge’s. Although his plane was on fire, the latter managed to limp back and land aboard the Midway, his Skyhawk’s belly scorched, wrinkled, and peppered with more than 50 holes.
A new era of warfare for naval aviation had begun.
Task Force 77 reacted promptly in an effort to find and destroy the enemy missile batteries. As directed, on 12 and 13 August, 76 missions searched at low levels for the sites. Five planes and two pilots were lost to AAA, and seven other planes were damaged, but no SAMs were found. It was truly a black Friday the 13th TF 77.
It was also a disillusioning experience and a foretaste of increased difficulties. First, it was a problem to find the highly mobile SAMs, which could pack up and move by truck and van in three hours. Whenever overflown, the SAM batteries always moved immediately, so that the next flight would find the site empty.10 Second, the very existence of missiles forced a change in bombing tactics and results. Hereafter, the pilots must either release at higher altitudes than before (5,000 to 6,000 feet), which meant greater miss distances, or at very low altitudes, which meant exposure to the increasingly accurate, visually controlled guns and heavy small arms fire.
It was not until the morning of 17 October 1965. in fact, that an Iron Hand flight of four A-4Es, led by an A-6 Intruder from the Independence's CVW-7 (flown by Lieutenant Commander Cecil E. "Pete" Garber, VA-75), destroyed the first occupied and operational SAM site, one near Kep airfield 52 miles northeast of Hanoi. Commander H. B. Southworth, Commanding Officer VA-72, leading the Skyhawks, saw three separate fires among the radar vans, ten vehicles burning, and ones SA-2 missile broken and burning, while a second snaked over the ground burning itself out.
"After so many weeks of disappointment," said Rear Admiral James R. Reedy, who had taken over recently as CTF 77, "it was heartening news, and a reward for persistence in sending an Iron Hand group with each big strike since September 20."
The second element of the North Vietnamese air defense system was also mushrooming—the automatic antiaircraft weapons and antiaircraft artillery. As the SA-7 missiles forced our aircraft to fly at lower levels, these AAA weapons became increasingly effective.
In 1965, North Vietnam was also rapidly building early warning and height-finding radar sites. A ground controlled intercept (GCI) capability was established in both the northern and southern portions of the country which also covered the Gulf of Tonkin.
As SAM defenses were increased and perfected, so was North Vietnam's aircraft inventory. Late in May 1965, some IL-28 jet light bombers were identified at Phuc Yen airfield. By mid-June, the number of MiG-15 MiG-17 fighter aircraft had climbed to almost 70. At Phuc Yen, the presence of unpacked crates indicated that there were more aircraft awaiting assembly. And by the end of 1965, North Vietnam was operating 75 MIGs and the eight IL-28 light bombers. Repeated but fruitless recommendations to attack these aircraft and the main North Vietnamese airfields were made.
Naval air's first MiG kills came in June 1965—the first on 17 June when F-4s from the Midway's VF-21 (flown by Commander Louis C. Page and his radar intercept officer (RIO), Lieutenant John C. Smith and Lieutenant Jack E. D. Batson and his RIO, downed two MiGs 50 miles south of Hanoi. At 1026, while headed northeast, Commander Page picked up bogies on his radar miles ahead. The two Phantoms and four MiGs approached each other head-on at a 1,000-knot closure speed—a mile every three and one-half seconds. The F-4s were ready to fire their long-range Sparrows. Commander Page finally spotted the characteristic huge nose intakes, mid-wings and prominent bubble canopies of the silver MiG-17 "Frescoes" and pickled off his missile at the second of the four MiGs which were flying in a ragged single file. Lieutenant Batson fired at the third—and both MiGs burned in puffs of orange flame and black smoke.
On 20 June, the third MiG was bagged—this time by propeller-driven A-1 "Skyraiders." The flight of four Spads," led by Lieutenant Commander E. A. Greathouse from VA-125, also aboard the Midway, were on a rescue combat air patrol (ResCAP) mission when jumped by two miG-1.7s. Maintaining tight air discipline, the Skyraiders dove for the deck and "scissored" defensively just above the treetops. In a series of turns and reverses, during a dogfight which lasted five minutes, the four prop pilots succeeded in out-turning and outmaneuvering the MiGs. Two of them, Lieutenant Clinton B. Johnson and Lieutenant (j.g.) Charles W. Hartman, finally got a tail-on shot—and watched one MiG go down under their chattering 20-mm. guns. (Back at Yankee Station all ears in every ready room and CIC were glued to the Tactical Air Control net listening to the four Spad pilots' account of their unusual but successful air encounter.)
These were the kind of victories that made naval aviators’ spirits and morale soar. On board the Midway for a routine visit, the Secretary of the Navy, Paul Nitze, made the victory announcement of the first kill to the ship’s crew.
1965 Results
The Rolling Thunder air operations expenditure in 1965 would grow eightfold in 1966, as more lucrative targets were authorized. Ten different attack carriers had participated in operations at Yankee Station. Eight hundred trucks and 650 pieces of railroad rolling stock had been damaged or destroyed. The Navy had flown more than 30,993 combat and combat support sorties over North Vietnam and 25,895 more over South Vietnam. Over one hundred Navy aircraft were lost, and 82 crewmen had been killed, captured, or reported missing. Forty-six others had been rescued after the loss of their aircraft. Attacks had largely been concentrated on military barracks, rails, roads and bridges, but not on the really worthwhile targets.
These first 11 months of combat of 1965 revealed the development of the strategy of gradualism— applying military pressure in small doses—a strategy which was to continue for 26 more months, interspersed with other self-imposed bombing pauses, self-inflicted restrictions, and self-designated sanctuaries. This strategy assumed that our direct military involvement in South Vietnam, and our selective use of our overwhelming airpower against North Vietnam, would force the North Vietnamese to the peace table. By applying gradual military pressure, we believed we could "get the signal through to Hanoi,” to use a favorite State Department term, to convince North Vietnam to stop attacking its neighbor, and in so doing, we would not risk escalating the conflict.
The year 1965 saw another result which would become a way of life for the entire war—the tendency to measure effort and accomplishment by the number of sorties flown. "3Ve tried to counter this unfortunate tendency,” said Admiral Roy L. Johnson, then Commander Seventh Fleet, "by emphasizing quality of effort based on the best possible BDA [bomb damage assessment]. Admittedly, BDA was often difficult to obtain. But we recognized that Secretary McNamara had to have some way of measuring effort, and in particular, for controlling the air effort. Controlling and limiting the number of missions was his method.”
During 1965, several significant developments had occurred in TF 77. In June the Independence (CVA-62), an Atlantic Fleet carrier, had arrived at Yankee Station bringing a squadron of the new A-6A Grumman Intruder aircraft, the world’s first truly all-weather tactical bomber with its sophisticated computerized electronic system. In November, the Kitty Hawk (CVA-63) arrived with her new Naval Tactical Data System and with the twin turboprop E-2A Hawkeye early-warning aircraft aboard. This computerized defense system was designed to provide greatly improved surveillance and automatic tracking and aircraft interception. And on 2 December, with Rear Admiral Henry Miller back in command of TF 77, the eight nuclear reactors of the Enterprise (CVAN- 65) drove her smartly onto Yankee Station. In escort position off her bow steamed the nuclear powered Bainbridge (DLGN-25). The long history of war at sea had entered a new era with nuclear warships in action for the first time.
One of the final 1.965 strikes against North Vietnam was to be a big one, and the next to the last for almost seven weeks. On 22 December, the Enterprise, Kitty Hawk, and Ticonderoga launched more than 100 planes in a combined strike against the Uong Bi thermal power plant, 15 miles north-northeast of Haiphong, the first industrial target authorized by the JCS. The three carriers’ aircraft were assigned times to be over target which were 30 minutes apart, beginning at 1500.
The attacks by the Enterprise came in from the north, while the Kitty Hawk's and Ticonderoga's aircraft approached from the south. Flak was heavy, especially at 3,000 feet and two A-4s from the Enterprise were lost to ground fire. But the attack caused severe damage to the boiler house, and the pilots saw smoke pouring from both ends of the generator hall, observed the fuel oil supply burning, and saw the administration building collapse. The petroleum storage area was engulfed in flames, the coal treatment center demolished, and the twelve storage buildings were struck. Uong Bi would supply little electrical power to the Hanoi-Haiphong electrical power network for many weeks.
The year ended with a U. S. suspension of the bombing commencing Christmas Day which, Secretary of State Rusk said, could lead to peace negotiations if the enemy would show constraint.
A memorable year thus ended for TF 77. New methods of visual bombing at night had been developed. New eras of electronic and missile warfare had begun. Supersonic fighter and reconnaissance jet aircraft had seen action for the first time. A true, effective all-weather tactical attack aircraft (the A-6) had arrived. And nuclear power ships had seen combat.
1966
As 1966 opened, and during the 37-day bombing stand-down which followed, a massive attempt was made to bring Hanoi to the peace table.11 The United States stated that it would welcome a conference on Southeast Asia—or any part of it. We said again that we wanted no U. S. bases in Southeast Asia, and that we did not desire to retain troops in South Vietnam after peace was assured. If the countries of Southeast Asia wanted to be nonaligned or neutral, we wouldn’t object. If the North Vietnamese would agree to peace we would be prepared to contribute $1 billion to the economic reconstruction of Southeast Asia. We told Hanoi we would allow the Viet Cong to be represented at the peace table and to express their views if Hanoi would cease its aggression. And, repeatedly, we said we would stop the bombing of North Vietnam if there was reciprocation.
Hanoi, however, stood fast, spurned every peace effort, and responded to the U. S. presentation before the United Nations by saying that any resolutions made by that body would be considered null and void. Also the United States was being bombarded from all sides not to resume the bombing—from the U.N., from allies in Europe, and from doves at home. Hanoi applauded every such effort.
Indeed, while the various peace initiatives were being pushed, Hanoi was taking maximum advantage of the bombing pause in anticipation of the resumption of bombing. Photographic reconnaissance during the pause showed the enemy reconstructing and improving his roads and bridges, improving and increasing the air defense of important areas, digging his POL system underground and into caves, dispersing his military support base, and pushing large numbers of loaded trucks toward the DMZ and the infiltration routes which fed the Ho Chi Minh trail. As many as 40 additional antiaircraft gun positions were photographed near the northwest rail line between Hanoi and Communist
China, and an increase of over 25 big guns below Vinh was noted. Altogether, the enemy had used the stand-down to add a total of almost 20 early warning and fire control radars, many SAM sites, and some 400 antiaircraft emplacements to his defense network.
During the stand-down, Admiral Sharp told the JCS that if the bombing effort was to succeed, North Vietnam must be denied access to external assistance from Russia, Communist China, and other Bloc nations, Whether by sea or by rail. Military supplies already stockpiled in North Vietnam had to be destroyed, he said. All known military material and facilities should be destroyed and military activities and movements should be continuously harassed and disrupted. All this, he said, would require air bombing operations quite different from those in 1965.
"It was obvious," said Admiral Sharp, "that our air operations in 1965 had not achieved their goal and that the nature of the war had changed since the air campaign began. We had not forced Hanoi to the peace table. We had not scared Hanoi out of the war. We had not caused any diminution whatsoever of his carrying the war into South Vietnam. In fact, the reverse was true. It was evident to me that Ho Chi Minh intended to continue to support the Viet Cong until he was denied the capability to do so.
"I felt that a properly oriented bombing effort could either bring the enemy to the conference table or cause the insurgency to wither from lack of support. The alternative would be a long and costly war—costly in lives and material resources—a long war which even in early 1966 was already becoming distasteful to some Americans."
Rolling Thunder Operations Resumed
When Rolling Thunder operations were resumed on 31 January, however, the same pattern as before Christmas was followed, not the revised strategy recommended CincPac. Targets were still largely limited to the southern portion of North Vietnam. The airfields, the MiGs, the closure of Haiphong, the industrial targets in the northeast, the electrical and petroleum targets, all remained off limits. However, the objective of Rolling Thunder was slowly shifting (perhaps not consciously) from punishment to interdiction in order to shut off the supply of men and materials to South Vietnam, which should induce Hanoi to seek a political settlement at the peace table.
Largely unappreciated, as the interdiction effort unfolded, were the restrictions of the monsoon weather which caused a high percentage of sortie cancellations or diversions and greatly limited the information obtained from bomb damage photography. At the decision levels in Washington, it was not appreciated that at night and during the bad weather periods of the northeast monsoon, the enemy would always be able to move his war supplies.
The buildup of SAM missiles, radars, MiGs, and AAA guns began to take an increasingly heavy toll of American aircraft, with AAA guns taking the most. Six aircraft and five crewmen were lost in January 1966 (two over South Vietnam, one over North Vietnam, and three at sea) and ten aircraft and ten air crewmen in February. From time to time, the flurries of SAMs damaged or downed an airplane. On 9 February, an A-4C from the Ticonderoga was damaged 20 miles southwest of Thanh Hoa, but the pilot, Commander Jack L. Snyder, the air wing commander of CVW-5, managed to get over the Gulf before ejecting, to be picked up by the USS England (DLG-22). Pilots described the SAMs as looking like telephone poles, slightly tapered at the nose, and trailed by a bright orange flame.
At first, the best defense against the Soviet supplied SA-2 missiles (which were now arriving in North Vietnam in abundance) was to fly below their envelope. However, such low altitude flight required more fuel and placed the aircraft within the kill envelope of small arms, automatic weapons, and light antiaircraft artillery.
An early set of rules for defending against SAMs was developed by Air Wing 21 aboard the Hancock (CVA-19), of which perhaps the most important was that pilots should not operate at mid- or high-altitudes in a SAM environment.
It was the beginning of a new style of aerial combat.
Early in 1966 shortages began to appear—ammunition, rockets and bombs, personal survival radios, F-4 aircraft, and pilots. Walter Cronkite, of CBS news, stated that the Navy was short of attack pilots, and this touched off a Department of Defense investigation. The investigation showed that while a few pilots might be flying as many as 28 missions per month over North Vietnam, the average was between 16 and 22. But the investigation did establish some "exposure” limits. The Chief of Naval Operations stated that no naval aviator would fly more than two complete combat deployments over a 14-month period. A pilot having 12 months of exposure would not commence a deployment, while a pilot with less than 12 months would start a deployment, but be ordered out of the combat area when his 14th month was completed.12
To keep the cockpits manned, however, the pilot training output was raised, though that took 18 months to become effective. More immediately, many shore billets and staff aviator jobs were eliminated in order to put more pilots into cockpits, the input of pilots into postgraduate school was minimized, and the pilot-to-seat ratio was held at 1.4 rather than the recommended 1.7. (For example, 20 pilots in a 14-plane A-4 squadron rather than the desired 24). By such actions, the analysts "solved” the pilot shortage problem.
In like manner were ammunition shortages solved. For example, if the number of bomb 'bodies was sufficient, then the systems analysts stated that no shortage existed even though there might be only enough bomb "tails” for two-thirds of the bodies. The leftover stockpiles of World War II "fat” bombs, although not ideal for jet aircraft, proved to be adequate, but these supplies dwindled steadily as the bombing effort increased. Production of all types of ammunition had been stepped up, but it had not yet met the demand. The Pacific command listed various ordnance items as critical and established a control and rationing system over many types of bombs and over assorted rockets, flares, and warheads.
March weather was slightly better than February’s, with an occasional day of good visibility throughout the Rolling Thunder area. More often, however, pilots found an almost 100% cloud cover with cloud bases below 1,500 feet. This caused a high rate of sortie cancellations, especially over North Vietnam where the monsoon weather was still in full swing. Even so, the rate of damage to fleeting targets in the Rolling Thunder area improved significantly.
Pilots from TF 77 flew 6,500 sorties in March in North and South Vietnam. Eleven aircraft were lost, with ten air crewmen lost or missing.
April was to be TF 77’s worst month yet—21 aircraft lost with 15 air crewmen. Much of the carriers’ effort was in the Vinh-Ben Thuy complex because of poorer weather farther north. However, for the first time since the Christmas bombing pause, the Northeast quadrant could be hit when weather permitted.
On 18 April, as the northeast monsoon eased off, TF 77 got a chance to hit an important industrial target for the second time—the Uong Bi thermal power plant near Haiphong. The plant supplied one-third of Hanoi’s power and nearly all of Haiphong’s. Since the first attack by TF 77 on 22 December, extensive repairs had been made to the plant, and it was time for another visit.
Just before midnight, two A-6As from the Kitty Hawk, flown by Commander Ronald J. Hays and Lieutenant John T. Been, and Lieutenant Eric M. Roemish and his RIO, all of VA-85, executed an imaginative low-level radar attack. Each of the A-6S carried 13 1,000-pound bombs.
The approach to the target was one which would both optimize the radar return from the power plant and avoid much of the enemy defenses.
Commander Hays and Lieutenant Roemish were launched near midnight. The two A-6s joined up, up dated their navigation systems, verified the operation of their weapon systems, and set course to the target The attack plan called for remaining below the enemy’s radar envelope as long as possible from Yankee Station to landfall.
The landfall was made exactly as planned and the two aircraft then took lateral separation. Each pilot acquired the target separately and made his own run. Both aircraft were on and off the target within seconds of one another. The 26 one-thousand-pound bombs hit the power plant. The success of the mission was readily apparent as huge secondary explosions occurred and showers of flashes from the resulting electrical shorts could be seen. It was not until after the crews released their bombs that the enemy started firing, lighting the night sky and filling the air with flak. The attack was not only a complete success but also a complete surprise.13 Subsequent photographs showed all 26 bombs had impacted inside the perimeter fence of the power plant. In fact, one or two bombs had hit the 250-foot high smoke stack and leveled it.
The next day, three previously restricted targets at Cam Pha—only 35 miles from the Red China border—were hit by the Kitty Hawk—the railroad yards, the water pumping station, and a coal treatment plant. Some 50 tons of ordnance were delivered by 24 aircraft in three surprise raids. There were many hits on the web of railroad tracks, the large repair building, the coal treatment plant, and the approaches to the coal loading piers: the largest building in the area disintegrated with a large secondary explosion. A score of fires was started and smoke and debris soared above 2,000 feet. Flak suppression F-4 Phantoms quickly silenced most enemy opposition and there were no aircraft losses.
However, this strike on Cam Pha, a small and in significant harbor, stirred up a hornet's nest in Washington.
"We had launched the strike against Cam Pha within 90 minutes after its appearance on the target list," said Rear Admiral J. R. Reedy, once again Commander TS-77, "for it was a key target we had repeatedly asked to hit and, always before, the answer had been no.
"On this occasion, however, there happened to be a Polish merchant ship taking on coal at the loading pier. Our pilots had been carefully directed not to attack foreign shipping—and they didn't, even though our pilots saw the Polish merchant ship firing machine guns at them.
"During the course of the attack, one bomb landed about 300 feet from the Polish ship—whose Master later charged that his ship had been bombed.
"For several days afterwards, the messages from Washington came thick and fast asking for details, analysis, statements and proof that we hadn't attacked the Polish ship."
Between 13 and 19 April, Kitty Hawk and Ticonderoga aircraft dropped two important bridges—each over 1,000 feet long—at Haiphong and Hai Duong.
Commander David B. Miller, co of VA-144 on the Ticonderoga, was strike leader of 11 A-4s and four F-8s against the Haiphong highway bridge, one of the largest bridges leading into that city from Red China. Earlier in the day, Commander Miller had flown a mission in the same area and had observed the marginal weather and enemy defenses. He became convinced that a small, "clean wing," maximum-load attack could be successful. The drop tanks were removed from the A-4s and the Ship's launch point was moved well to the north by Captain Robert Miller, the Ticonderoga's skipper.
As the strike group approached the target from behind the ridge to the north, two SAMs were fired at them from Haiphong; but the flight avoided them. Climbing again after the missiles passed, the group came under heavy flak. Two aircraft were hit—an F-8 escort, piloted by Commander Mohrhardt of VF-53, and Commander Miller's A-4. A 37-mm. projectile had hit the dorsal fin of Miller's aircraft, leaving a large hole. Despite this damage, and two more SAMS fired at the group, Commander Miller and the Ticonderoga flight pressed their attack and dropped five of the twenty-one spans of the bridge. Commander Mohrhardt was able to fly his burning F-8 out to sea where he was picked 13 safely by helicopter.
April also saw a modification of the manner in which Rolling Thunder targets were assigned.14 Until this time, the Air Force and the Navy had shared the air over North Vietnam on a time basis, alternating the six areas every week. But this system of fixed times on target didn't work well for the carriers, which were launching and recovering aircraft every 90 minutes. So the six route package areas were now permanently divided. This placed the coastal areas, including Haiphong, in the Navy’s area, leaving the area north of the DMZ, Hanoi, and the country to the west for the Air Force. However, some route package areas were major off-limit sanctuaries which contained the most lucrative targets. In addition, there was a buffer zone along the entire border between North Vietnam and Red China, which was kept immune from bombing.
The assignment of permanent areas of responsibility to the Air Force and the Navy had one immediate effect, a reduction in aircraft and aircrew losses. This was because pilots became very familiar with their assigned target areas, since they flew over them repeatedly and got to know the enemy’s defenses and the best directions for attack. Furthermore, pilots became so familiar with the areas that they could detect meaningful changes.
One particular mission on 27 April by a VA-85 A-6 from the Kitty Hawk deserves recognition. The Intruder was flown by Lieutenant William R. Westerman and his Bombardier/Navigator was Lieutenant (j.g.) Brian E. Westin. While making a run on numerous barges in a canal north of Vinh, the A-6 took a direct hit and Lieutenant Westerman was badly wounded.
Westin guided his wounded pilot out to sea both by oral assurances and by releasing his own shoulder straps, stretching across the mid-cockpit console, and controlling the aircraft from the right seat. When safely at sea, Westin insisted that the semi-conscious pilot eject himself first, a reversal of the normal procedure. After the wounded pilot was successfully out, Westin then ejected himself from the now pilotless aircraft. By chance, Westin was recovered first by the nearby SAR helicopter. He then helped direct the helicopter to the downed pilot. Upon arrival over Westerman, Westin noted that the wounded pilot, weak from loss of blood, lacked the strength to get into the recovery sling. Westin jumped back into the water, assisted Westerman into the sling, and in view of his immediate need for medical attention, waved the SAR helicopter to take the pilot back to the SAR destroyer. Westin awaited the arrival of a second SAR helicopter. For his courage and selflessness, Westin was awarded the Navy Cross.
Throughout May, the four TF 77 carriers kept flying hard, the Ranger, the Hancock, and the Enterprise at Yankee Station, with the Intrepid (CVS-11) at Dixie Station supporting General Westmoreland’s four search-and-destroy operations then underway: Lexington, Hardihood, Reno, and Makiki. The Intrepid (Captain G. Macri) had arrived at Dixie Station on 15 May to relieve the Hancock. On her decks were 32 A-4s and 24 A-is of CVW-10, but no fighters. Once an attack carrier, but an ASW carrier since 1964, she temporarily resumed her old role and, as the U. S. Navy’s 16th attack carrier, helped to ease the strain of keeping five attack carriers continuously deployed to WestPac and two in the Mediterranean. It was a killing deployment schedule for the 16 ships, 7 months out, 5 months at home at the best, a schedule which would slowly erode the reenlistment rate and depress the pilot retention rate.
With five attack carriers on station in the Western Pacific, three of them constantly at Yankee Station, the air war had now reached a high level. Attack sorties on North Vietnam continued to grow.
|
|
Attack Sorties |
Aircraft/Pilot Losses |
|
|
NVN |
SVN |
||
|
March |
1923 |
3474 |
11/9 |
|
April |
2780 |
3184 |
21/15 |
|
May |
2568 |
2810 |
9/2 |
|
June |
3078 |
2597 |
9/9 |
By the end of May, the enemy’s SAM network had been extended south and west, and more than 100 SAM sites protected North Vietnam. Hanoi and Haiphong had become the most heavily defended targets in the world.
MiG activity was also growing. TF 77’s electronic warning aircraft, EA-3BS, supported by EC-121M Big Look aircraft based at Da Nang, issued 141 SAM warnings and 38 MiG warnings. The presence of all-weather MiG-21 Fishbeds at North Vietnamese airfields was also confirmed. A total of 70 MiGs was now credited in the enemy’s air order of battle, plus 6 IL-28 Beagles.
The number of supply ships arriving in Haiphong harbor was also growing. Nineteen ships arrived in April, 25 in May, and 28 in June. Pilots circling in the Gulf of Tonkin flew past loaded Soviet ships and tankers. On their decks could be seen trucks, missile equipment, and oil drums. The pilots knew they would be hunting these same trucks and missile trailers, one by one, in subsequent weeks.
There were 12 Navy engagements with MiGs in June and two MiG-17s were destroyed, two others damaged- In addition, one North Vietnamese prop aircraft was destroyed and another damaged. The price was one F-8E lost. The engagement on 12 June, involving four F-8s from the Hancock, and four MiG-17s, was typical, since it showed the hit-and-run tactics of the enemy pilots and demonstrated the superior airmanship and aggressiveness of the U. S. Navy fighter pilots.
The four F-8S were flying cover for an attack group of A-4s who were bombing the Dai Tan military area- 24 miles northwest of Haiphong.
"We first spotted the four MiG-17s starting a low run attack from below," said Commander Harold L. Mart, Commanding Officer VF-211. "We broke into them and made them overshoot." Commander Marr fired one Sidewinder which failed to home properly, but his second missile went straight and true, blowing up the MiG at an altitude of 50 feet.
"We were able to outmaneuver the MiGs," said Commander Marr, "and it was pretty obvious we could outfly them. To the best of my knowledge, they never fired a shot at us."
Nine days later, Commander Marr's wingman, Lieutenant (j.g.) Phillip W. Vampatella, bagged one for himself. On this occasion, Vampatella was flying cover for a downed pilot, and during the mission his F-8 had been hit and damaged in the tail section. Vampatella headed his crippled aircraft back for the Hancock. And he turned seaward, one of the MiGs followed him and began an attack. Vampatella added afterburner power for speed, and maneuvered his damaged craft as best he could to avoid the MiG's cannon fire. As they neared course whereupon he also reversed, got on the MiG's tail, fired a Sidewinder, and watched it disappear and explode in the MiG's tail pipe.
It was during this period that an effective method of attacking North Vietnamese trucks was perfected, the use of flares for visual night attacks at low level. "The pioneer of this technique was Commander Harry Thomas, Commanding Officer, VA-153," said Commander David E. Leue. "He had had considerable night attack experience during the Korean War. He taught US in mid-1965 how to find and destroy trucks at night—at ferry crossings and at downed bridges.15
The tactic called for pairs of A-4 Skyhawks, one flying 1,000 feet above the other and carrying flares, the second and lower aircraft watching the roads, ferry crossings and bridges, and calling for flares.
"Using this tactic," said Commander Leue, "we finished out Coral Sea's 1965 cruise by burning trucks on most nights of our last two line periods."
During the 1966 period, two squadrons, VA-153 and VA-155, continued and expanded the technique, and were aided by the 02 Hawkeye aircraft, for navigational assistance, as well as by the new Mk 4 gun pod. It was risky but effective work, and demolished trucks could be seen by daylight on many of North Vietnam's principal roads.
"A notable night was in July 1966," said Commander Leue,16 "when my wingman, Lieutenant (j.g.) R. Harrell, and I found a nose-to-tail convoy of trucks two miles long just south of Thanh Hoa. It was an hour after midnight, clear and black. We caught these particular trucks with their lights on, an unusual circumstance which I attribute to another pair of A-4s ten miles away being shot at. The noise must have diverted the attention of these truck drivers, for apparently they did not hear us coming and did not turn off their lights. Our first strafing run was made without flares, and several trucks were set afire. We then used flares and Commander Edmund W. Ingley, Commanding Officer, VA-155, and his wingman joined the fray. Before we left the area, it was almost IFR (instrument flight rules) in smoke from burning trucks."
This dangerous but effective kind of night mission demanded discipline, courage and airmanship of a high order, especially in the mountainous terrain of North Vietnam.
One of the most unorthodox recoveries in the history of aircraft carriers occurred on 3 June 1966. Commander Milton J. Chewning, Commanding Officer of VA-55, while on his eleventh strike mission over North Vietnam, took a burst of AA fire just forward of the starboard wing. The exploding shell peppered the cockpit with fragments, and several of them hit and incapacitated Commander Chewning’s right arm. He calmly locked his throttle and adjusted his cabin environmental controls to compensate for the loss of air pressure in the cockpit. He then flew 150 miles to the Ranger left-handed, reporting by radio once or twice that he felt "woozy.”
On board the Ranger, there was a hurried conference. Should a landing be tried? Was the pilot so badly wounded he couldn’t make it? Might not his landing endanger men on the flight deck? After listening to Mike on the radio, and assessing his condition, it was quickly decided to give him the chance to land aboard.
While Commander Chewning was making the 20-minute flight to the carrier, Captain Leo B. McCuddin, the Ranger’s Commanding Officer, ordered the flight deck cleared of all unnecessary equipment. A flight surgeon was launched in a helo in case Commander Chewning chose to eject, and a second doctor was positioned on the flight deck with all emergency equipment.
"I stood in CIC monitoring Mike’s voice,” said Commander Fred Palmer, Commander Air Wing 14, "and I was prepared to order him to eject if he again reported that he felt 'woozy.’ He didn’t, however. As Mike got within sight of the ship, Commander Paul Russell, Ranger’s operations officer, stood in the doorway between CIC and CATTC monitoring his approach on the scopes, and at the same time talking directly by telephone to Captain McCuddin on the bridge. Captain McCuddin had already begun turning the ship into the wind, and when Mike’s A-4E appeared on the CATTC radar astern of Ranger, even before Mike’s plane could be seen from the ship, Captain McCuddin stopped the turn. The ship was still 30 degrees out of the wind, but this way Mike got a 'straight-in’ approach to the deck.
"Mike rolled out in the groove and headed for the deck with a locked throttle,” continued Commander Palmer. "The LSO, Lieutenant Commander 'Pon’Johnson, spoke gentle words to him. Mike’s pass was actually FAB17, but Lieutenant Commander Johnson’s LSO record book said, 'O.K. pass, #3 wire.’
"Who says LSOs—and ship’s skippers—don’t have a heart?”
Rushed to sickbay, Commander Chewning was operated on for the removal of the several chunks of shrapnel in his arm, and later flown ashore for further treatment.
For his courage and airmanship, Commander Chewning was awarded the Silver Star Medal.
While light attack aircraft were attacking North Vietnam’s trucks, A-6s from VA-65 aboard the Constellation were going against the fuel storage sites which supported them. One visible success was a flight of two Intruders led by Commander Frank Cramblet which struck the Yen Hau petroleum storage depot south of Vinh late in July. Billowing smoke visible from Yen Hau could be seen from the flight deck of the Constellation, some 60 miles to the east.
The Hai Duong bridge, a major link between Hanoi and Haiphong, was dropped by a single A-6 crew on a night raid. Lieutenant Commander Bernie Deibert and his B/N, Lieutenant Commander Dale Purdy, executed the imaginative strike on 12 August 1966 while operating with VA-65. The Intruder crew caught the North Vietnamese completely by surprise in one of their most highly defended areas. The five Mk-84, 2,000-pound bombs they released demolished the center span of the bridge.
It was also during this period that Lieutenant R. S. Williams and his B/N, Lieutenant J. E. Diselrod, developed a unique air-to-air defense tactic for night Intruder strikes. While retiring from their target area 40 miles into North Vietnam, Lieutenant Diselrod noted indications of an enemy fighter. When evasive maneuvers appeared futile, the A-6 crew intentionally overflew Nam Dinh, an area noted for its intensive AAA fire. The barrage discharged at the unidentified aircraft proved sufficient to discourage the trailing North Vietnamese pilot, and a successful termination of intercept tracking was achieved. This particular tactic became known as the "Willard Egress” to the flight crews of VA-65 and CVW-15.
Early in September 1966, Rear Admiral D. C. Richardson, then CTF 77, put into effect a new hit diction campaign based on a careful study of the enemy’s targets and geography.18
"We were dealing with a dynamic situation," said Admiral Richardson, "and, although we had the initiative, routes and areas had to be carefully analyzed and our attacks concentrated in certain areas to cause traffic to bunch.
"By so doing," he said, "targets of opportunity were created and our damage took longer to repair.
"It was a systems approach to targeting," he continued. "No single target by itself was all-important, but rather the relationship of one target to other targets in a grouping. I was not interested in damage just for damage's sake, nor in the statistical summaries of so many downed bridges, damaged approaches, destroyed locomotives, and the like. . . . Nor was I interested in striking large target complexes because they were large, nor big bridges because they were big. Rather, our goal was to stop the enemy from functioning in some part of his transportation system, to force him to ship his supplies by some alternate means around a stricken complex, and thereby slow down his war effort in South Vietnam."
Admiral Richardson put his new interdiction plan to work by closing the rail line south of Thanh Hoa and temporarily choking train movement at the rail yards of the Ninh Binh, Thanh Hoa, and Phy Lo complexes. All bridges south of Thanh Hoa were destroyed.18 The idea paid off. As soon as the rail line was closed, an immediate buildup of trains was noticed. Multiple carrier strikes were directed against the trapped rolling stock, and more than 100 railroad cars were destroyed at Ninh Binh, and 80 more at Thanh Hoa The North Vietnamese countered by bringing numerous trucks into the rail yards to offload supplies from the stalled railroad cars which had not been destroyed. Not in weeks had pilots seen so many trucks in the open and in daylight. Task Force 77 immediately made strikes against what the pilots called "luctars" (lucrative targets). Thirty trucks of a 60-truck convoy were destroyed during one such attack at Ninh Binh.
This was the kind of damage that pilots could clearly see for themselves. In September, 872 pieces of rolling stock and 729 trucks were damaged or destroyed as the result of the Navy's concentrated "attrition-interdiction" campaign.
Oriskany Fire. On the morning of 26 October 10 1966, TF 77 suffered its most grievous loss in the war to date when a fire broke out on board the Oriskany (CVA-34) The bad weather over North Vietnam forced the cancellation of the morning mission, so the ordnance from the strike aircraft was removed from the planes and carried back to the magazines. Among the ordnance being returned was a large number of magnesium parachute flares. Two seamen, one handing the flares from an ammo cart in a passageway to his buddy at the storage locker, mishandled a flare. Ignition took place in the locker and quickly set off about 700 other flares stored in the locker. The resulting fire killed 44 officers and men, including 25 pilots, most by asphyxiation, and injured 38. Two helicopters were jettisoned, four A-4s received major damage and nine others suffered minor salt water damage. Valiant and tireless efforts by the crew of the Oriskany prevented further loss of life or greater damage to the ship and won the praise of all. Particularly noteworthy was the heroic action of the crew in removing bombs, some of which were already engulfed in flames. A total of 343 bombs, some 1,000 pounds and 2,060 pounds in size, and all subject to was jettisoned from the hangar and flight decks in a massive effort that saved the ship and hundreds of lives. There were also many heroic and daring actions which saved the lives of many officers and men trapped in burning, smoke-filled staterooms and compartments.
The POL Campaign. By Asian standards, North Vietnam, possessed a good petroleum, oil, and lubricants (POL) storage and distribution system to meet the needs of its industrial, transportation, and military consumers. Its wartime POL requirements were estimated to be 15,000 to 20,000 metric tons a month, an amount which two small tankers or 170 railroad tank cars bringing oil from Red China, could supply.
As the American bombing effort stepped up, Hanoi only had to look at history—World War II in Germany and Japan—to anticipate the bombing of their POL system, which was above ground and exposed.20 By June 1966 air bombing in the southern part of North Vietnam had eliminated Nam Dinh and Phu Qui as POL storage centers, and the storage capacity at Vinh had been cut by two-thirds.
But the major part of the POL system, located near Hanoi and Haiphong, remained untouched. In late 1965 and early 1966, new POL farms with buried or bunkered tanks were sighted or photographed all over the country, the majority of them in or near the major military and industrial centers. Also, extremely large numbers of 55 gall petroleum drums were visible.
In April 1966, a new bombing plan, known as Rolling Thunder 50, was released for planning—not execution—by the Secretary of Defense. It contained two major target systems—the major industries in the Northeast quadrant and the entire POL system. Authority was granted to plan attacks against eleven specific targets: the Viet-Tri Railroad-Highway Bridge, the Haiphong Thermal Power Plant, the Haiphong Cement Plant, and the early warning-ground control intercept radar at Kep airfield (a key facility which supported Northeast’s entire air defense); and seven POL storages, at Haiphong, Hanoi, Nguyen Ke, Bac Giang, Do Son, Phuc Yen, and Duong Nham. After close cooperation with and joint planning between the U. S. Seventh Air Force and Commander Seventh Fleet, attacks against the POL system were begun.
They were scheduled for late April, but a delay developed.
The only reason for the delay was uncertainty on Washington’s part that only these eleven targets would be hit, that no collateral damage on other targets such as third country shipping or civilians would occur.
An intensive search was begun for techniques that would minimize these risks.
After two months of consultation and analyses, Secretary McNamara ordered attacks to begin on the seven POL storage facilities on 23 June, including those at Hanoi and Haiphong, plus the Kep airfield radar. He directed that special care be taken to avoid damaging Russian, Red Chinese, or Communist Bloc shipping in Haiphong. Special care was also to be taken to minimize casualties among enemy civilians. He directed that the most experienced pilots should be used, that good weather should be selected in order to promote visual accuracy, and that careful selection of the attack axis should be made.
Navy pilots attacking the Haiphong POL storage area were ordered not to make attacks on any craft in the harbor unless they were first fired on, and "only if the craft is clearly of North Vietnam registry.” In addition, "piers servicing the Haiphong POL storage will not be attacked if a tanker is berthed off the end of the pier.”
At the very last minute, still another delay developed: a news leak. In the United States, newspaper stories appeared which said that North Vietnam’s POL system would be struck very soon and giving essential strike details. This publicity, appearing at almost the same time that the POL strikes were being authorized, caused another week’s postponement.
Finally, on 29 June 1966, more than a year after Rolling Thunder had commenced, the bombing program against POL facilities got underway with strikes on Hanoi and Haiphong. Twenty-eight of the Ranger’s aircraft, including anti-MiG, anti-SAM and anti-flak elements, led by Commander Frederick F. Palmer, Commander Air Wing 14, went against the Haiphong POL complex, the country’s largest, and turned it into three huge fireballs and many columns of smoke which rose to 20,000 feet. "I put the A-4Cs, slowest of the jets in the attack group, in the van,” said Palmer. "Commander A1 'Shoes’ Shaufelberger, Commanding Officer of VA-146 (Blue Diamonds), did a perfect job of navigating to the target area, and the fireball from his bombs provided an interesting obstacle for subsequent attackers during their pull-out. Commander Bob Holt, leading the War Horses of VA-55, peppered and ignited several tanks with his load of 2.75-inch Mighty Mouse rockets. The flak was heavy, initially, in the target area, but flak suppressors—F-4s of VF-142 led by Commander Jim Brown—were so accurate in placing their bombs that it seemed as if a switch had suddenly 'turned off’ the heavy caliber antiaircraft fire. Finally, Fighting 143, led by Commander Walt Spangenberg, positioned their Phantoms between the MiG bases and the attack group. There were no takers.”
Meanwhile, the Constellation's aircraft went against Do Son POL on the tip of the peninsula which forms the southeast arm of Haiphong harbor. On 30 June, Hancock and Constellation aircraft struck Bac Giang POL storage. On 1 July it was Constellation and Hancock against Dong Nham, 13 miles northwest of Haiphong where 7 POL tanks and 4 support buildings were destroyed. The Hancock sent 18 of her airplanes far inland up the valleys to smash the Bac Giang POL storage north of Hanoi a second time.
Back in the office of the Secretary of Defense, there was a tense air of expectancy, a mixture of fear and hope—fear that the bombs might fall on Soviet or Red Chinese merchant ships in Haiphong or, despite all the precautions and restrictions, into the heavily populated civilian areas of the cities—perhaps even the embassies, hospitals, and schools. There was also fear that this "escalation” might trigger some Soviet or Communist reaction. But there was also hope—hope that this new blow might persuade Hanoi to bid for peace. Rear Admiral J. R. Reedy, CTF 77, was under specific orders to send back detailed information on the strikes on an "as occurring” basis and to mark his messages personally for Secretary McNamara, Chairman of the JCS General Wheeler, and Admiral Sharp, CinCPac.
Several key offices in the Pentagon, including the Chairman of the JCS, remained manned that first night awaiting the initial strike results.
Nothing happened. Except for the usual Communist rhetoric, there was no North Vietnam response or reaction—nor was there any collateral damage. The precision and skillful airmanship asked for had been delivered.
On 7 July 1966, the Haiphong petroleum storage area was struck again, with particular emphasis against the pumping machinery as well as the storage tanks. Pilots from the Constellation reported dense black smoke rising to 20,000 feet and secondary explosions. One A-4C from the Hancock was hit, but the pilot ejected safely southeast of Haiphong and was rescued.
On 9 July, the Thanh Hoa storage was hit again, and on 12 July, the Haiphong POL was blasted for the third time.
The Vinh POL storage was hit on 23 July, resulting in a spectacular fire with four large fireballs. During this attack, Commander Wynne F. Foster, Commanding Officer of VA-163, flying an A-4E, took a 57-mm. hit through the starboard side of the cockpit, which almost severed his right arm below the shoulder. Radioing that he was bleeding badly, he managed to steer the crippled Skyhawk with his knees while holding the stump of his shattered arm and restricting the gush of blood. When over water near the USS Reeves (DLG-24), and growing faint, he succeeded in making a left-handed ejection and was rescued by the ship's whaleboat, then evacuated to the Oriskany by helicopter where his arm was amputated.21 (His change of command ceremony, held on the Oriskany in Subic Bay a few days later, was conducted from a stretcher, concluding with the traditional, but left-handed, salute.)
By the end of July, the first effects of the POL strikes were becoming apparent.22 No Soviet tankers arrived at Haiphong in July. They showed up again in August but, then and thereafter, were loaded with drums rather than bulk fuel. Two Soviet tankers, scheduled to unload at Haiphong, unloaded instead in Red China and their cargo was transshipped to North Vietnam by tank car.
After the attacks on the Haiphong POL storage and oil tank barges, the North Vietnamese quickly realized that though their diesel-powered barges, each able to carry 600 metric tons, were fair game, ships of other nations were not. Thereafter it became a contest between the pilots and the barge crews. The latter would nestle their 150-foot craft alongside tankers of other nations anchored in the roadsteads off Haiphong and Hon Gai. When darkness or bad weather came, these barges would dash for the ports which were off limits to U. S. aircraft. Thus it remained for the A-6 crews, with their all-weather attack systems, and the A-4 crews, working under flares at night, to prevent or inhibit the "last mile" of transport for vital petroleum to North Vietnam.
Strikes on 1 and 4 August 1966 destroyed or damaged four, and possibly six, of the ten tank barges owned by North Vietnam.
After the destruction of the storage tanks and the oil in. them, the Soviets nearly doubled their efforts.
Other parts of the POL system attacked by TF 77 aircraft were railroad tank cars and river barges. By Christmas 1966, the long POL campaign had wrecked all the above ground POL storage sites, including the largest facility, in Hanoi. The Haiphong receiving terminal had been reduced to marginal levels, from a capacity of four tanker shiploads to less than one-third of one shipload per month. Most of the oil barges and oil tank cars had been destroyed. Notwithstanding this damage, North Vietnam retained sufficient oil reserves dispersed in drums and buried or hidden in caves to maintain its military and economic activity for up to four months.
The POL campaign had come too late. The 15-month delay, 23 and the 37-day bombing pause following Christmas, 1965, had given the enemy time to disperse his stocks and to shift from transporting oil by rail to moving it in trucks, and even to commence the construction of an underground pipeline system.
As 1966 ended, it was evident that the interdiction campaign was causing Hanoi extreme hardships. The effect of heavier air strikes was reflected in North Vietnam’s public outcries and their insistence that "stop the bombing” was a first prerequisite to any negotiations. The entire population of North Vietnam had been mobilized to support the war effort, and it was estimated that more than 300,000 people were required just to keep the lines of communication open. Admiral Sharp gave this evaluation in his year-end report:
"Despite our interdiction, the enemy has accommodated to our LOC (lines of communications) attacks by ingeniously hiding and dispersing his logistic activity. His recuperative capability along these lines has been remarkable.”
General Westmoreland added his P.S. ". . . there is no lessening of enemy determination,” he said.
Task Force 77 counted up the year’s effort: more than 30,000 attack sorties against North Vietnam and 20,000 against the enemy in South Vietnam. Eighty-nine airmen had been killed, captured, or reported missing, and over 120 aircraft had been lost on combat missions.
1967
As 1967 opened, Admiral Sharp made a fresh attempt to have the character of the air interdiction campaign changed. Since the objective of the U. S. military effort was neither to defeat nor to destroy North Vietnam but to cause North Vietnam to stop supporting, controlling, and directing insurgencies in Southeast Asia, three tasks had to be accomplished: (1) to deny North Vietnam access to the flow of external assistance, primarily from Communist China and Russia, (2) to curtail the flow of men and supplies from North Vietnam into Laos and South Vietnam, and (3) to destroy in depth those resources in North Vietnam that contributed to support of the aggression.
"There were six basic target systems in North Vietnam,” said Admiral Sharp, "electric power, war supporting industry, transportation support facilities, military complexes, petroleum storage, and air defense.”
Admiral Sharp felt that accomplishment of these three tasks was dependent on applying continuous and steadily increasing pressures against these target systems, rather than on individually selected targets on a stop- and-go basis. "The application of steadily increasing pressure had been denied us in 1966,” he said, “because of operational restrictions.”
"I had informed Washington in December that the no-bombing zone placed around Hanoi should be relaxed. I told them that we were just starting to put some real pressure on Hanoi with our air strikes on the Hanoi rail yard and vehicle depot—hitting them where it hurt. Hanoi had complained that these early attacks had killed civilians. They were hoping for a favorable reaction—and they got it. Not only did our government say we regretted that civilians were killed, but we also stopped our pilots from striking targets near Hanoi. So the North Vietnamese were successful once again in getting the bombing pressure removed, and this success encouraged them to continue their aggression. With nearly 400,000 U. S. fighting men in country, it was apparent to Hanoi they couldn’t take over South Vietnam by force—but they could fight a protracted war, terrorize the countryside, make our revolutionary development plan difficult, and kill a lot of people, including Americans. This type of war, I felt, might continue a long time, and my personal feeling, based on a limited sounding of public opinion, including the thoughts of quite a few members of Congress, led me to the conclusion we should end this war successfully as soon as possible.
"It was this background,” he continued, "that caused me to recommend on 18 January 1967 that all targets in each of the six target systems which required approval by higher authority be approved as a package— not doled out a few at a time.24 This would give me maximum flexibility in the timing of strikes, taking into consideration intelligence and weather factors. I asked for authority to hit 15 new targets each month. In this way, I could apply the needed pressure and avoid peaks and depressions. If we were to increase the pressure on Hanoi, a steady program of disruption against the basic target systems was necessary. The six target systems should be considered as a single package, with each system interrelated to the other, and elements of each system should be attacked, rather than one system at a time.”
The recommendations won some success, for in late January and again in late February, strikes were authorized against 16 fixed targets in the northeast quadrant. But the policy of piecemeal approval of targets and tactical restrictions continued.
In mid-April, ten targets were authorized by Washington, a power transformer station, a cement plant. three bridges, a rail repair shop, an ammunition depot, a POL storage area, and two MiG airfields near Hanoi. Certain targets within ten miles of Hanoi were authorized for attack.
On 2 May, ten more targets were added—targets along the highway and railroad transportation systems from Communist China, and enemy aircraft at their home bases.
On 23 May, a ten mile no-bombing circle was placed around Hanoi.
On 5 July 1967, in Saigon, a crucial briefing was given to Secretary McNamara, which determined the future direction of the air interdiction campaign. (Also present at this meeting were Under Secretary of State Katzenbach; the U. S. Ambassador to South Vietnam, Ellsworth Bunker; Admiral Sharp; General Westmoreland, ComUSMACV; General William W. Momyer. Commander Seventh Air Force; Vice Admiral Hyland, Commander Seventh Fleet; and several staff members from State, Defense, and JCS staffs.)
Admiral Sharp led off the briefing with a summary of the Rolling Thunder campaign up to that point and explained the concept of denying North Vietnam access to external aid, cutting down the enemy's movement of war material into South Vietnam, and the need for vigorous, unremitting attacks on the six primary target systems of North Vietnam. Admiral Sharp described the several results which had occurred during the recent months of the air bombing campaign—that the enemy was no longer using his MiGs to challenge our attacks that the effectiveness of his SAMs had diminished, that our new bombs, rockets, and missiles were showing greater effectiveness, that Hanoi's problems were increasing, the evidence being their drawdown on man power, the increase in ship offloading time, the impairment of their transportation system, the pile-up of supplies, and the like. In short, Admiral Sharp said that the trend of the war had changed in our favor, and he recommended that the pace of the bombing be stepped up.25
On 20 July 1967, 16 new targets in the Northeast sector, mostly railroad and highway bridges, were added bringing the approved total to 46. Of the 46, thirty were in the Hanoi-Haiphong area.
In August, several targets in the so-called Chinese buffer zone, some only eight miles from the border, were authorized: the Port Wallut naval base, the Lang Son railroad bridge, and the Na Phuoc railroad yard, were naval targets. However, that same month all targets in the central Hanoi area were again placed off limits, a restriction that continued for two months.
On 30 August, the coal handling resources at Cam Pha and the Hon Gai port facilities were authorized for attack whenever foreign shipping was not present. The Communists quickly took advantage of this rule, and only on rare occasions thereafter was a foreign ship not tied up to the Cam Pha coal piers.
The restrictions placed against North Vietnam's coal loading port of Cam Pha are indicative of Washington's sensitivity to attacks on third country shipping. The TF 77 attack on Cam Pha in April 1966, which resulted in a charge that a Polish ship had been bombed, has been described. This attack put Cam Pha back on the restricted list until August.
Meanwhile, in June 1967, another bombing incident occurred at Cam Pha. The Soviets charged that their merchant vessel Turkestan had been attacked on 2 June, killing one crewman and injuring others. A full scale investigation of the incident revealed that two flights of Seventh Air Force F-105s had attacked Cam Pha on 2 June, but Washington flatly denied that these aircraft had attacked the Turkestan. Indeed, they had not. But about two weeks later, new information arrived in Washington that a third flight of Seventh Air Force fighters, after attacking Bac Giang rail yard 65 miles from Cam Pha, and while en route home, had passed over the harbor, had been fired upon by Cam Pha gun batteries, and had attacked the guns. Apparently the Soviet ship had been struck by this fire. Premier Kosygin later brought a 20-mm. projectile with U. S. Air Force markings from the Turkestan to the United States for his meeting with President Johnson at Glassboro, New Jersey.26
In any case, the coal mines and mining facilities of North Vietnam, which supplied coal to the electric power plants of North Vietnam, were never authorized for attack.
August passed. In September, 17 new targets were added, and in October, eight more, seven in the Haiphong port area, including three shipyards. In November, 14 new targets were added, bringing the approved total to 85. Thus, the tightly supervised and limited bombing campaign was continued.
Combat SAR—the Rescue of Pilots
One of the truly great success stories of TF 77 operations in the Gulf of Tonkin is the development, by Rear Admiral J. R. Reedy and his staff, of a combat Search and Rescue (SAR) capability for rescuing pilots not only from the water, but from the enemy’s territory. There had been, of course, many helicopter rescues of downed pilots from enemy territory during the Korean War, but the system, procedures, hardware, and communications in 1950-53 had never been elaborate.
The overriding reasons for a well developed and aggressive combat SAR capability in Southeast Asia were, of course, to prevent pilots from being captured and to sustain pilot morale. To fly day after day deep into the high threat areas of Vinh, Thanh Hoa, Hanoi, Haiphong, and the Red River Valley, to dodge SAMs and endure history’s heaviest and most accurate barrage of gunfire, often in marginal weather or at night, demanded the highest order of courage, airmanship, devotion to duty, and self-discipline on the part of the aviators. If they were shot down and survived, but could not be rescued, they knew that they faced unnumbered years of prison, isolation, and hunger—even torture or death.
Thus, the pilots looked upon the combat SAR machinery as the best life insurance they could have. If they knew (and they did know) that every possible effort would be made to rescue them, their morale would be strengthened and their fortitude increased.
There were lesser, but still important, reasons for a combat SAR system—to prevent the enemy from exploiting downed pilots either as sources of intelligence or as political hostages; and to protect a costly resource, since a highly trained pilot flying jets costs hundreds of thousands of dollars to replace.
At first, in 1965-66, the SAR system consisted of an Air Force Grumman amphibian aircraft which remained airborne in the Gulf from sunrise to sunset. To this the Navy added an armed two-plane A-1 Skyraider rescue patrol (ResCAP), and a roving SAR destroyer. The Sky- raiders were ideally suited for SAR and helo escort duty. They could fly slowly enough to remain with the rescue helos, and their ordnance lifting capacity enabled them to carry a heavy load of bombs and ammunition for suppressing enemy ground fire. (Later, when the A-is left the Fleet, they were replaced as SAR aircraft by A-4s and A-7s).
In April 1965, Rear Admiral M. F. Weisner established a second SAR station using a UH-2A/B Seasprite helicopter from the Ranger in the destroyer England. The northern station, lacking a helo, had a Tacan-equipped DDG and an accompanying Shotgun destroyer. The southern, or combat, SAR station was east of Vinh with a DD and a DLG, the latter fitted with both Tacan and a helo platform. The UH-2 helo (then nicknamed "Angel”) aboard the DLG had no armor plating, but the pilots and crew wore flak jackets and had a .30 caliber machine gun mounted in the cabin.
The first overland rescue from North Vietnam of a Navy pilot by a Navy helo occurred on 20 September 1965 when an A-4E flown by Lieutenant (j.g.) John R. Harris of VA-72, aboard the Independence, was downed 20 miles east of Hanoi. Harris was recovered by a UH-iB helo which landed aboard the cruiser Galveston (CLG-3).
In November 1965, as a result of a recommendation by Rear Admiral E. P. Aurand to Rear Admiral Reedy, the first SH-3 Sea King helicopter arrived at Yankee Station. The Sea Kings, much larger helos than the Seasprites, were temporarily stripped of their ASW equipment. The reliability of their two engines, and their larger payload and longer range as compared to the Seasprites, made them ideal rescue vehicles and cargo carriers for the destroyers. Because of their size, the Sea Kings were kept aboard the attack carriers or, if one were present, aboard the ASW carrier. These helos were known as "Fetch.”
In December 1965, the UH-2 aboard the DLG was replaced by one with armor plate around the pilot, crewmen, engine, and main transmission. It had self-sealing oil lines and fuel cells, and had a higher power T-58 engine. It was armed with M-60 machine guns and was painted in camouflage colors.
After the Yankee Station carriers moved farther north in the Gulf, two combat SAR stations (North and South) were formally established, in April 1966. Each had a DLG (with Tacan and a combat SAR UH-2) and a "Shotgun” DD. At this time, the UH-2’s nickname changed from "Angel” to "Clementine”—number 1 for North and number 2 for South Combat SAR Station*
In May 1966, specially equipped and armored SH-3S, known as "Big Mothers,” arrived in the Gulf, armed with two M-6o machine guns. Prior to each in-country air strike, one or more Big Mothers would be dispatched to the combat SAR station nearest the assigned targets. In 1966, whenever an actual rescue was in progress, four A-1 Skyraiders always accompanied each UH-2 or SH-3 to give suppressive ground support to a downed pilot and to protect the rescue helicopter.
The destroyers assigned to North and South SAR were provided with a "High Drink” (helicopter inflight refueling) capability—to permit a helicopter to hover over the fantail, lower its hoist to the deck, and retrieve a refueling hose and refuel while remaining airborne. This required that the destroyers be equipped with JP-5 tanks, hoses, and fuel testing equipment. By refueling every two to three hours the SAR helo could remain on station for up to 12 hours and always have enough fuel to make a run in-country for a rescue if necessary In December 1966, the Air Force replaced its HU-16 amphibian with a C-130E, which was capable of longer-ranged communication and greater on-station time.
Prearranged airborne teams of rescue helicopters and armed escorts (A-is initially, A-4s or A-7s) flew near the egress routes of the Alpha strikes. When a pilot was shot down, the strike leader, or wingman, became "on-scene commander" to coordinate and direct the rescue attempt. Aboard either the North or South SAR station, a destroyer squadron commander would serve as SAR Coordinator. The Commodore would have the latest information on enemy aircraft and missile de fenses, the targets being struck, a complete list of all rescue vehicles, and a careful plot of the enemy gut and missile defenses. It was the SAR coordinator's decision, in conjunction with recommendations from the on-scene commander, to either attempt a rescue or not. If a pilot could be seen on the ground, or if he used his rescue radio, the attempt would normally be made.
How well did the system work? From the start of the war until October 1966, 269 naval and Air Force pilots and air crewmen were shot down or forced to abandon their aircraft over North Vietnam. Of these 103 (more than half of them from the Air Force) were recovered, 75 were known to have been killed, 46 were made prisoners, and the fate of the remaining 45 is not known.
The statistics were clear in one particular—if a pilot could get his damaged aircraft over the sea before he "punched out," his chances of rescue were better than 90%. If he bailed out over North Vietnam in 1966, however, his chances were considerably less—and this percentage would drop steadily for the remainder of the war, especially in the "Iron Triangle" of Haiphong, Hanoi, and Thanh Hoa. The North Vietnamese made vigorous efforts to capture every downed pilot, even those close to their shores—and the reward for doing so was high. Junk fishermen were paid $200 per pilot—a fortune for them.
It became evident that speed in rescues was all important, for after 30 minutes a downed pilot's chances of rescue began dropping rapidly. It also became apparent that any SAR effort which lasted for several hours, or which continued the following day, could be converted into an ambush for rescue aircraft and helos. The enemy often spread parachutes to attract attention and get pilots to fly low. The enemy also made use of captured "beeper" radios carried by all pilots to decoy a rescue helo into an ambush.
The effectiveness, speed, teamwork and heroism of the combat SAR system can best be told by recounting three rescues, one on the coast, one deep inside Haiphong the harbor, and one at night. Each is typical of the aggressive determination to bring home every pilot who had any chance of being rescued. These rescues will be from capsuled in the words of the principals, taken from official records:
The Coastline Rescue took place on 20 March 1966. The downed pilot was Lieutenant James S. Greenwood and the rescue helo pilot was Lieutenant Commander David J. McCracken.
Greenwood: "I was flying an F-4B Phantom from VF-92 aboard Enterprise. With another VF-92 F-4B, we launched at 1715 to attack a bridge 40 miles south of Vinh. Approaching the target we encountered heavy antiaircraft fire. Both our planes were hit immediately. My aircraft, voice call Silverkite 202, developed fires in both engines and became uncontrolled, so I ordered my RIO to eject…I soon followed him. As I descended in my parachute through a solid overcast between 500 and 1,000 feet, I could see that my RIO would land only 100 yards from the beach, and I roughly one-half mile out. Just before I hit the water, I noticed one enemy Junk about two miles north of us, and many people gathering near the beach near the point where my RIO was descending. I considered him too close to the beach to even think of an attempt to swim for open water…”
McCracken: "After I lifted off USS Worden (DLG-18), it took me about 15 minutes to reach the general area of the downed pilot. The area had been marked by an orange flare dropped by Crown Bravo [the USAF rescue Grumman Albatross]. The pilot of Crown Bravo told me that his airplane had been hit by heavy AAA fire from the nearby beach and that he couldn't land because of holes in his fuselage. He also told me to hurry because enemy junks were closing in on the downed pilot.
“I flew in toward what I thought was the flare, got too close to some junks near the beach, and they opened fire on me. The smoke I saw wasn’t from the marker flare, however, but from a burning belly tank. So I turned away from the shore, heading east, when AMH2 G. E. McCormack, my second crewman, opened up on a nearby junk which had commenced shooting at us. About the same time, my co-pilot, Ensign R. H. Clark, Jr., spotted the downed pilot. He grabbed a Thompson .45-caliber machine gun and joined McCormack firing at the junk, only 100-150 yards away.”
Clark: "When Mr. McCracken started in to make the pickup, the four A-4s [from the Enterprise] started making strafing attacks on the junk. About half the crew of the junk jumped in the water, while the remainder continued shooting at us. When we reached the downed pilot, he grabbed the horse collar, and before he could get into it, Chief Davis, the first crewman, started hoisting him up. The pickup didn’t take 30 seconds.”
Davis: "Whenever the A-4s made a strafing pass, the junks would stop firing at us, but we kept the junk under fire with the Thompson and the M-6o all the time. [Chief Davis didn’t know it at the time, but several guns, both tracer fire and mortars, were being fired at the helo from the beach.] As we pulled into a hover, the survivor was waving his arms indicating he was not injured, so I lowered the sling to him. He grabbed it in a death grip and nodded his head to bring him up, so I raised him as he hung on.”
McCracken: "Just as Chief Davis grabbed the survivor and lifted him bodily into the helo, a mortar round hit the water behind us, and another one hit forward. The splash of the first round lifted the tail and put us into forward flight. [McCracken didn’t know it but the first round damaged his hoist and tail assembly.] Getting out of there was my intention anyway—but not in so violent a maneuver!”
Later, in a message to McCracken, Vice Admiral John J. Hyland, Commander Seventh Fleet, expressed the feelings of all TF 77 pilots. ". . . the courage, determination, and tenacity of pilots and crew of your helo is again deserving of widest recognition and official commendation.” Only six days earlier, McCracken had received his first Silver Star for heroism for a helo rescue under fire of an Air Force pilot.
The Haiphong Harbor Rescue of Lieutenant Commander Thomas Tucker took place on 31 August 1966. The rescue helo pilot was Commander Robert S. Vermilya, Commanding Officer of HS-6.
Tucker: "I was flying a BDA (Bomb Damage Assessment) mission 31 August 1966 from Oriskany for strikes being conducted in the Haiphong area. About 1450, I was hit by a 37-mm. projectile and I experienced immediate loss of aileron and elevator control. With just my rudder, I managed to head toward the ocean, but within a minute after being hit, the bird became uncontrollable, pitched nose up and then rolled inverted. By the time I was finally able to eject at 1,500 feet, the Crusader was in a steep dive. After getting out, I blacked out for a few seconds, and when I came to, I was about 1,000 feet above the harbor and several guns were firing at me, for I could hear the bullets whistling past.”
Tucker landed in Haiphong’s secondary ship channel, about 150 yards off the beach, three miles from the city itself, and in an area where many junks and sampans were present.
Vermilya: "I was pilot of 'Indian Girl 68’ with Ensign William E. Runyon co-pilot, Chief Tom Grisham and ADR2 Jerry Dunford as crew. We had taken off from Kearsarge two hours earlier, and for this mission, north SAR consisted of Towers and Wiltsie. We heard the Mayday call, and the pilot calling out, 'I’m hit, I’m hit, I’m hit’.
"At the time, we were orbiting near the coast-out point, so I picked up speed and took up a heading for Haiphong. My escorts hadn’t yet shown up, but the on-scene commander (Lieutenant Foster Teague, flying another Oriskany F-8 from VF-m) told me that if I waited any longer, I’d never make it. He said it was either now or never.” Lieutenant Teague, meanwhile, was himself dodging SAMs being fired at his aircraft.
"So I descended to 60 feet altitude and headed up the long channel to Haiphong itself. As I got close to the area, the smoke stacks of several factories in Haiphong were visible.” Vermilya and his crew, being pre-occupied with the search for Tucker, knew they were being fired at, but they did not appreciate the volume or intensity of the enemy’s fire. Tucker, now in his life raft 100 yards from the shoreline, could see splashes from artillery passing above the incoming helo and splashing into the water beyond. Before the helo came into view, in fact, the same guns had been firing at him; he also saw several sampans headed toward him to make the capture.
"The sampans were getting close to the downed pilot,” continued Vermilya, "until Lieutenant Teague made a strafing pass and blew one up and set another on fire—after this, the rest of the boats started going the other way.
"We didn’t see the downed pilot until he lighted off an orange flare—then we could see that a lot of rifle and automatic weapon fire was splashing near him. So I made a sharp turn back, made an emergency hover at 30 feet, dropped the "horse collar” for about ten seconds, and Jerry Dunford winched him aboard.”
Commander Vermilya had spent 20 minutes flying the big helo up the harbor channel through a curtain of fire, but the ten-second hover was the most dangerous part of the mission—every gun in the harbor which could bear was firing at the "Big Mother." But not a single projectile hit the helo.
This is one of the three rescues of naval pilots from Haiphong harbor which occurred during the war. 0n 7 July 1966, Lieutenant Commander William Isenhour of VA-216 aboard Hancock, was rescued from the mouth of the Haiphong River. "This rescue happened during a re-strike of the Haiphong POL site," said Rear Admiral Reedy. "I was in the war room listening on the strike frequency relayed by Middleman. Lieutenant Commander Isenhour headed out to sea, and just before ejecting he told his buddies, 'Keep those goddamn sampans away from me after I get in the water.' He sounded as calm as if he'd said it over morning coffee.”
Almost a year later, Lieutenant (j.g.) J. W. Cain of VA-192 was forced to eject from his A-4 Skyhawk. He landed in the water near Haiphong harbor and was immediately taken under small arms fire. Said Commander Billy Phillips, Cain's air group commander. "The one aspect of the rescue that impressed me was the effectiveness of the F-8S whose repeated strafing attacks subdued fire from the beach against Lieutenant (j.g.) Cain. Commander Bill Conklin, Commanding Officer of NT-194, was the on-scene commander, and he mustered twelve F-8S at the scene. Four of these made close-interval attacks until they ran out of ammo, then Bill called in four more. This process continued until 10 of the F-85 had been utilized and the helo escorted by two A-is from VA-52 had rescued Lieutenant (j.g.) Cain."
After 20 minutes, Cain was rescued by a helo flown by Lieutenant S. T. Milliken and Lieutenant (j.g.) T. E. Pettis, who received intense mortar and AAA fire including two SAMs.
The night rescue of Lieutenant Commander John W. Holtzclaw and his RIO Lieutenant Commander John A. Burns, both of VF-33, take place on 19 June 1968 The rescue helo pilot was Lieutenant Clyde E. Lasser of HC-7.
Ten minutes after midnight on 19 June 1968, an F-4B from the USS America (CVA-66) was destroyed by a SAM missile. Its two crewmen, Lieutenant Commander Holtzclaw and Lieutenant Commander Burns, were able to eject from the tumbling wreckage, but they were down 20 miles inland, south of Hanoi, and in a densely inhabited area. Their parachutes fell into a rice paddy area between two villages. During the next 45 minutes Holtzclaw and Burns slowly made their way across the rice paddies to a small densely foliaged karst hill nearby. The hill was flanked on three sides by rice paddies and on the fourth by a mountain range.
The rescue attempt started from southern SAR station when a UH-2A Seasprite helicopter lifted off the deck of the USS Preble (DLG-15) and headed through the dark, moonless night. Its crew consisted of pilot Lieutenant Clyde E. Lassen, co-pilot Lieutenant (j.g.) Clarence L. Cook, and crewmen AE2 Bruce B. Dallas and ADJ3 Donald West.
"For the first hour," said Holtzclaw, "we heard no airplanes overhead. We made our way up the hill to an extremely dense section of jungle, where we first heard the sound of airplanes. We used our walkie-talkies and were told "Clementine Two" was on the way to get us. Lieutenant Commander Burns and I tried to find a clear area on the hillside for pick-up but couldn't find one."
As the Seasprite neared the rescue area, two "balls of flame," possibly SAMs, streaked past the helicopter. A minute later, Lieutenant (j.g.) Cook sighted the flaming wreckage of the F-4 and located the general position of the survivors who were now about three miles from the crashed aircraft. Difficult terrain, a dark, overcast night, and heavy enemy small arms and automatic weapons fire were factors making the rescue of the F-4 crew extremely difficult.
Lieutenant Lassen made his first landing in a rice paddy below the hill and 600 feet from the downed pilots.
As the helo touched down, the waiting enemy opened up with small arms and automatic weapons fire. Lassen immediately lifted off and orbited the area.
Meanwhile other aircraft had arrived from TF 77 and began dropping flares.
"The survivors were between two large trees about 150 feet apart," said Lieutenant Lassen, "and other fairly tall trees were also in the area, but I decided that by the light of the flares, I'd try to pick them up from the hillside."
As Lieutenant Lassen approached, in a 50-foot high hover between the trees, Petty Officer Dallas began lowering the rescue sling.
Suddenly the flares burned out, leaving the area in pitch darkness and Lieutenant Lassen with no visual ground reference.
"Dallas yelled that we were going to hit a tree," Lieutenant Lassen said. "I added power and was just starting a climb when I hit it. The jolt was terrific. The helo pitched nose down and went into a tight starboard turn. I regained control and waved off. I then told the rescue aircraft orbiting overhead that we had struck a tree and that I was experiencing fairly heavy vibration. We requested more flares and were told that no more were available but that some were on the way. Also, I told the survivors that they would have to get down off that hill and into the clearing."
In the rear of the helicopter, the crewman, Dallas, was also having his troubles in recovering the hoist.
"I started retracting the hoist as fast as possible,” he said, "and in the process the helo hit a tree on the right side. I was leaning out of the open door at the time, and I was hit on the face as the tree went by. As soon as the limb hit me, I yelled 'get up! get up!’—and we were out of there and climbing. Nothing but Mr. Lassen’s skill and experience saved us from crashing.”
The helicopter developed a fairly heavy vibration immediately after the collision which damaged the horizontal stabilizer, the tail rotor, the antenna, and the door.
Shaken but undeterred by the narrow escape, Lieutenant Lassen made pass after pass over the area while Cook and Dallas fired at the gun flashes below.
In the darkness of the tangled, vine-covered hillside, Holtzclaw and Burns, the latter hampered by a sprained left ankle and an injured knee as a result of the ejection, were stumbling downhill toward the rice paddy area below. As they reached the flat area, Lieutenant Lassen made his second approach for the pick-up. As the UH-2 touched down, he spotted the survivors struggling across the rice paddies but still too far away. Enemy fire was also steadily increasing. He took off again, circled the area and headed in for his third landing. Another SAM went by, narrowly missing the UH-2, but the pilot continued to drop lower until finally he held the helo in a hover with the wheels just touching the soft ground.
"While we were on the edge of the clearing,” said Burns, "we both could hear the North Vietnamese search party noisily crashing through the jungle a short distance away.”
For three minutes the helicopter hung there with its floodlight on as Holtzclaw and Burns frantically stumbled and fell their way across the paddy with its crisscrossing dikes. The UH-2 was under fire from two sides at first, and then from a third, as the enemy closed in on the area vacated a minute before by the men being rescued. Returning the fire, the helicopter crew silenced at least one position and managed to keep the enemy down until the exhausted, mud-spattered survivors clambered aboard.
Lieutenant Lassen immediately lifted off and headed the badly damaged and vibrating helicopter for the sea. The helicopter had been overland for 56 minutes and under fire for 45 minutes while pressing the rescue attempt. Even yet, they were not out of danger, for as Lieutenant Lassen neared the coast, the Seasprite once again ran into heavy flak and automatic fire, and during subsequent evasive maneuvers, the damaged door was torn off.
Finally over the water, the success of the rescue now depended on how much fuel remained. With every available radio in TF 77 listening and all hands praying, the Seasprite finally landed aboard the Jouett (DLG-29) with only five minutes of fuel remaining.
For his intrepidity and conspicuous gallantry, Lieutenant Lassen was later awarded the Medal of Honor by President Johnson.
The Effects of the Weather
One of the key factors in the bombing interdiction effort against North Vietnam was the monsoon weather, which often precluded full-scale attacks on fixed targets and greatly reduced armed reconnaissance.
The heavy, often torrential rain, low clouds, and poor visibility, served to hide the enemy’s missiles and guns, and to provide early concealment for the launching and inflight trajectory of the missiles. This forced our aircraft below the cloud layers and down into the effective range of radar controlled guns and small arms. When these weather handicaps were added to the cover of night when the only aircraft which could find a target without the use of flares, fly low enough to hit it, and maneuver to avoid the mountain tops, missiles, and flak, was the A-6 Intruder, it can be understood why bombing aircraft usually could locate their targets over North Vietnam less than one-third of the time.
But more important, under cover of clouds and darkness the enemy could repair his roads and bridge fill in the bomb craters, repair the rail lines, and construct the pontoon bridges and bypasses to keep his supply pipelines into South Vietnam filled.
When the southwest monsoon blew, from late April until mid-October, North Vietnam's weather could be expected to be reasonably good, with June, July, and August providing the best visibility and the clearest skies. During the remainder of the year, as the monsoon winds reversed and blew from the northeast; the weather over North Vietnam could be expected to be both poor and unpredictable. The 60-day periods of March-April and September-October were especially uncertain, as the cold fronts and low pressure centers associated with the transition from southwest to northeast monsoons occurred. By November, the northeast monsoon would usually be well developed, and the onshore flow of moist air could be expected to produce extremely poor weather until the following spring.
If the air interdiction campaign was to be effective therefore, a concerted, all-out effort had to be made during the few months of good weather.
In effect, the monsoon weather forced Task Force 77 to be alert for, and ready to react to, unseasonal and unpredicted breaks in the weather. For example, on 13 to 23 January 1967, there was a four-day period of relatively clear weather over North Vietnam. It was a golden opportunity for coordinated three-carrier strikes and in three days eight hundred sorties were flown into the North. Then the monsoon closed in again and except for a short break on 27 January, coordinated attacks could not be undertaken again until 4 February when, once again, the weather broke briefly. Then it reclosed until the second week of March, when one thousand Rolling Thunder sorties were flown. On 1 March 1967, in fact, Task Force 77 was instructed not to fly over North Vietnam in marginal weather. Loss of aircraft in February and March, in both 1965 and 1966, had been high and the poor monsoon weather had certainly been a factor.
In addition to the unpredictable weather, there were typhoons to worry about. In 1967, for example, it was Typhoon Billie in July, tropical storms Fran and Kate in August, and typhoons Emma and Gilda in November. These storms caused the loss of several days' strike effort because of the necessity for ships to take evasive action.
In summary, the uncertainty, unpredictability, and caprice of the Vietnamese weather was a factor heavily favoring the enemy. "The nature of the weather in Vietnam was also a vital factor in the interdiction campaign that was never fully appreciated by Washington,” said Vice Admiral David C. Richardson, CTF 77 in 1966-67. "With the centralized control of the war from afar," he said, "Washington could not keep in touch with the ever-changing weather which often required on-the-scene changes in target and weapon assignments.
Mining of North Vietnamese Waters
It was never fully appreciated in Washington that about 50% of the enemy's cargo moved on the internal waterways.
During 1966, as the road and rail systems of North Vietnam were attacked by TF 77, the enemy made increasing use of barges and sampans (waterborne logistic craft27) to transport men and supplies southward. This trend had first been noted early in 1966, and recommendations had been made to close the river mouths to the barges by mining. Finally, on 23 February 1967, the mining from the air of selected areas of North Vietnam—not Haiphong, of course—was authorized by higher authority. The use of air-delivered mines in selected river areas was determined to be an effective method of reducing North Vietnamese coastal traffic.
The first use of mines commenced on 26 February when seven A-6As from the carrier Enterprise, led by Commander A. H. Bark, Commanding Officer of VA-35, planted two fields in the mouths of the Song Ca and South Giang rivers. The mines were dropped from a very low altitude, and although some flak was noted in the vicinity of Vinh, no SAMs were fired.
In March, three new minefields were sown in the mouths of the Song Ma, Kien Giang, and Cua Sot rivers, this time by A-6s from the carrier Kitty Hawk. In view of the need to make very precise drops, the aircraft had to make straight-in, low-level passes. This necessitated nighttime runs using a radar-significant target. Though moonlight was a help when it was available, most missions were flown in bad weather. It was a demanding and dangerous assignment.
By mid-April, all the minefields authorized, five in number had been planted. North Vietnam's three main deep water ports of Haiphong, Hon Gai, and Cam Pha, however, were not authorized.
A careful watch was made to see what effect the mining campaign had.
The first indication came in April, in the Song Giang, when several boats conducting minesweeping operations were photographed. Soon it became apparent that little, if any, traffic was entering or leaving the river mouths. Three sunken boats were noted in the Song Giang on 23 May.
The traffic across the river mouths slowly dried up. And just as the enemy had abandoned truck and rail traffic on the exposed coastal highway, so now did he stop moving war supplies by coastal barges. The enemy simply accepted his losses and the fact that in this area he was beaten. He moved inland, using more trucks, mainly at night, over the unpaved roads hidden under the heavy canopy of the jungle.
The Forrestal Fire
On 29 July, TF 77 suffered its second and most serious accident—a severe fire on board the Forrestal (CVA-59). This carrier from the Atlantic Fleet had arrived at Yankee Station only five days earlier, and was preparing to launch her second strike of the day, when a Zuni rocket was inadvertently fired from a parked F-4B on the after starboard quarter of the flight deck. The rocket warhead struck the fuel tank of a nearby A-4 Skyhawk being readied for flight and, within seconds, the after half of the flight deck was a holocaust of flames. Firefighters charged selflessly into the inferno to be met by the blast of exploding bombs, which killed several men and further spread the fire. The flight deck fire was under control in about an hour, but it took another twelve and one-half hours to extinguish all below-deck fires. The tragedy cost 134 lives and hospitalized 60. It caused the loss of 21 aircraft, and damage to 41 others, and put the great carrier, the first of her class, back in the shipyard for nearly seven months of repairs.
The Effort to Isolate Haiphong
The key to forcing Hanoi to stop supporting and directing the aggression in South Vietnam, as Admiral Sharp had often noted, was to deny North Vietnam access to external military and economic assistance. This assistance came largely by sea, primarily into the main port of Haiphong, through which it was estimated that 85% of the country’s imports passed, although some came into the ports of Cam Pha and Hon Gai. The remainder came by rail and road from Red China or by rail from Soviet Russia through China.
The quick and easy way to snuff out the war would have been to blockade Haiphong—or to use the term of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis, to "quarantine” it. But this recommendation was repeatedly rejected because of the risk of damage to third-country shipping.
But, if closing Haiphong harbor from seaward by mining or blockading was forbidden, could not the port city be isolated by bombing? To do this would require the destruction of the major bridges, the mining of the transshipment points near the city, and the cutting of the rail lines between Hanoi and Haiphong. Obviously, this was a much more difficult, costly, less efficient alternative than either blockading, quarantining, or mining the port—but it was all that was left, so an intensive effort would be made.
The effort got underway on 30 August 1967, as a result of a visit to Washington by Admiral Sharp which included discussions with key members of Congress.
The Haiphong highway bridge, south-southeast of the city, was the initial isolation target. The Oriskany’s air wing, led by Commander Burton H. Shepherd, dropped it into the river.
This strike was a prime example of the discipline and the expertise which strike groups had gained in conducting multiple "Alfa” strikes.
Approaching Haiphong with 24 planes, the strike group evaded a covey of SAMs and maintained their flight integrity. Nearing Haiphong proper, intense 37-mm., 57-mm., and 85-mm. fire was encountered, but the strike group pressed on. Execution was such that every bomb detonated within a period of 10 to 12 seconds. When the smoke cleared, three of the four bridge spans had disappeared. As the strike group retired, it strafed barge traffic in the nearby canals and rivers.
In a matter of weeks, all the main bridges around the two cities were made unserviceable for varying lengths of time. For example, TF 77 hit Haiphong's for major bridges in September. The North Vietnamese made intense efforts to repair them and by the next month they were in service again. Then TF 77 hit all four of them again.
The dredges necessary to keep Haiphong isolated were another prime target, for the harbor was subject to heavy silting from the entire Red River Valley, and constant dredging was necessary. In addition, Haiphong's tides—nine, and occasionally 12, feet—also silted the harbor. By mid-summer 1966, in fact, the depth of the dredged channel through the outer bank was only 14 feet, six feet below normal. This force deeper-draft ships to anchor in the outer channel and discharge their cargo into lighters, which then because prime targets. (Later, Soviet and Bloc shipping companies were asked to send only ships with drafts of 22 feet or less to Haiphong.) The pilots from the Bon Homme Richard got the first dredge on 6 July 1967. Heavily bombed, the camouflaged vessel rolled over on her side, caught fire, and sank. To save its largest suction dredge, Hanoi ordered her towed to Red China.
The enemy responded to the isolation effort in several ways. Increasingly, shipments were made into Sihanoukville, Cambodia, whence by truck, barge, and sampan war supplies were surreptitiously moved into the sanctuaries along the border with South Vietnam.
The Soviets increased their deliveries. During the first six months of 1967, almost 400,000 tons were delivered into Haiphong, despite the delays in unloading. This was a 38% increase over the corresponding period in 1966.
The enemy also responded by building numerous bypasses. Truck and supply boat activity increased. Boats were moored near foreign ships in order to lessen the chance of their being attacked. The number of boats on the waterways from Haiphong to Hanoi doubled in the last half of September, and tripled by the middle of October. Large open storage areas near the Haiphong docks and throughout the city multiplied as the full weight of the campaign became evident.
It was during this period that Haiphong ran out of missiles and low on AAA ammunition. On the fifth successive day of striking targets in the Haiphong area, for example, Navy pilots were amazed to arrive off Haiphong without being greeted by the usual SAM and intense AAA. The electronic signals were there and spoof aircrews, but no SAMs rose from the sites and only sporadic 37-mm. antiaircraft fire was observed, and then only at relatively low level. One flak suppression section circled over Haiphong for 15 minutes looking for an active AAA site and finally dropped their flak suppression weapons on the primary target. This phenomenon lasted for two days, when heavy rain and clouds from the tail end of a typhoon terminated all "Alfa" strike activity over North Vietnam for the next three days.
When the weather cleared and strike groups again returned to Haiphong, the enemy's defenses had been restored and there were many SAMs and heavy AA fire. As always North Vietnam had resourcefully used the respite to replenish depleted stocks.
The almost continuous attacks on Haiphong began to have other effects. On 25 August, for example, an evacuation order was issued. All civilians except those vital to the defense of Hanoi and Haiphong and to the subsistence of those who defended it were ordered to leave. Women, children, and the elderly assembled, with their suitcases, at collection points where buses, trucks, and pedicabs picked them up. Workshops, offices, and institutions near military targets were moved out of the two city areas.
It was also in August that there began to appear unconfirmed reports that Hanoi was considering an agreement to negotiate as a device to stop the bombing and relieve pressure on its forces.
The American journalist, David Schoenbrun, made a trip to Hanoi in August and was given a lengthy interview with the Premier, a handshake by Ho Chi Minh, and a tour of the countryside. During these discussions, Schoenbrun was told that peace talks could begin rapidly once the bombing raids had stopped. The Premier was pessimistic about an early end to the war, described the peace offers as "false,” and stated that he distrusted both secret negotiations and the U. S. government. Schoenbrun described Ho Chi Minh as a feeble old man with stooped shoulders. However, he was also impressed with the steadfast determination, organization, and morale of the North Vietnamese. To him, they seemed determined to achieve victory on their terms.
The First Walleye Attacks. In March 1967, a new Navy weapon called Walleye—a TV-guided air-to-surface glide bomb—was introduced into combat. This weapon represented a long stride forward in the accurate delivery of air-dropped ordnance, since Walleye could be locked on to its target by the pilot prior to drop, and after release, its TV eye would continue to direct the bomb toward the pre-selected aiming point without further help from the pilot, who could then devote his full attention to avoiding missiles and gunfire.
The first Walleye attacks were conducted under the supervision of Rear Admiral Thomas J. Walker, Commander Carrier Division Three, who was charged with their combat introduction. Rear Admiral Walker carefully selected six targets. Attack Squadron 212, commanded by Commander Homer Smith aboard the Bon Homme Richard, made the first attacks.
The first launch went against a large military barracks complex at Sam Son on 11 March 1967. Commander Smith launched the weapon, and he and the accompanying pilots watched the TV bomb fly straight and true into a window of the barracks, exploding within— exactly like the brochure said it would.
The second attack went against the Phu Dien Chau highway bridge, and the third and fourth against other parts of the Sam Son barracks complex. The next day three more Walleyes were dropped against the Thanh Hoa bridge. Again, all were direct hits but damage to the bridge was assessed as minor.
"For the first time in the history of naval warfare,” said Rear Admiral Walker, "a combat commander could launch one aircraft carrying one weapon with a high degree of confidence that significant damage could be inflicted on a selected target.”
It was the beginning of a new era in aerial warfare and the first use of what soon became known as "smart bombs.”
The Interdiction Effort Peak—1967. During the better weather months of May through October 1967, the interdiction campaign reached its peak of intensity— with the Iron Triangle receiving the maximum attention. An unprecedented barrage of major "Alfa” strikes was directed against this region. With a sufficient supply of Walleye weapons now available, several major strikes were directed against the Ngoc Kuyet railroad siding, a nearby bridge, and a bypass between Hanoi and Haiphong. One of the most important attacks went against the Hanoi Thermal Power Plant, which early in May was released as a target, for Walleye only. This indicated the high degree of confidence that Washington had gained in the new "smart bomb” for the reason that collateral damage in downtown Hanoi could be avoided.
"Bonnie Dick” was called out of Subic Bay with orders to hit the Hanoi Thermal Power Plant with Walleye as soon as possible. The weather cleared, and on 19 May 1967 the first attack was made. Once again, Commander Homer Smith led the strike, with Lieutenant Mike Cater as his only wingman. Six F-8Es from VF-24 were flak suppressors. Air Wing 11 aboard the Kitty Hawk was scheduled to strike the Van Dien Truck Park located five miles southwest of the city simultaneously. The two air wings rendezvoused at sea and went "feet dry” (i.e., overland) well to the south. Some MiG-17 fighters were observed attempting to intercept the flight southwest of the city and Lieutenant Phil Wood of VF-24 shot one down at this time. The Walleye attack group maintained integrity and dropped down to a lower altitude to dash the last ten miles, over flat country, to the city. The MiGs were outdistanced at this time but the flight encountered a severe barrage of SAMs and AAA. The two Walleye A-4s pitched up to roll-in from west to east over the lake and delivered their weapon directly on target in the thermal power plant. Gunfire and SAMs continued to lace the sky as evidenced by Japanese news film taken from within the city and later shown on U. S. television. During this attack, two F-8S were shot down—one en route to target and the second during the attack.
The remainder of the flight retired at low level back toward the mountains to the southwest. At this point, the MiG-i7s joined in earnest, attempting to get to the two A-4s. A major dog fight erupted just southwest of the city between the remaining F-8s and ten MiG aircraft. The fight ranged from treetop level up to 4,000 feet. Commander Paul Speer, Commanding Officer of VF-211, bagged a MiG-17 in a turning encounter behind the A-4s, followed a few seconds later by Lieutenant (j.g.) Joe Shea, his wingman, who bagged a second MiG-17. The fight continued moving southwest and Lieutenant Bob Lee of VF-24 got another one. With the A-4s safely over the mountains the engagement broke off and thus ended the Navy’s largest jet air battle so far. Four MIGs were accounted for in this brief, furious encounter.
As TF 77’s efforts intensified between May and October, the enemy’s AAA fire was especially heavy. July, in fact, was a record month, with 233 SAMs being launched at TF 77 aircraft and, while 19 planes were lost, most of them were lost to antiaircraft fire.
The search for SAMs continued. On 19 July, the Constellation's Reconnaissance Squadron 12 brought home pictures of a SAM site in a most unusual plan inside a soccer stadium between Haiphong and Hanoi. During the day several attacks on the SAM missile battery, the missiles, the vans, transporters, and the stadium itself were made. Commander Robin McGlobe Commanding Officer, VF-142, and Commander Robert Dunn, Commanding Officer, VA-146, led the first attack They damaged three missiles on their launcher and watched orange smoke rise out of the stadium. Last in the day, Commander Gene Tissot, Commander Carrier Wing 14, led a second strike that totally demolished the installation.
On 21 July 1967, a fierce seven-minute engagement occurred as the airplanes from the "Bonnie Dick’s Carrier Wing 21 approached for an attack on the petroleum storage area at Ta Xa. Eight MiG-17s attacked the F-8E/C fighter cover provided by VF-211 and VF-24 and the Shrike-armed "Iron Hand" A-4s of VA-76 and VA-211 One MiG was destroyed by a Sidewinder fired by Commander Marion H. Isaacks; a second was downed by the 20-mm. fire of Lieutenant Commander Robert L. Kirkwood; a third was destroyed by an air-to-ground Zuni rocket and 20-mm. guns fired by Lieutenant Commander Ray Hubbard, Jr.; and a "probable" fourth was damaged by another Sidewinder launched by Lieutenant (j.g.) Philip W. Dempewolf which hit but never exploded. Two other MiGs were damaged. Commander Isaacks and Lieutenant Commander Kirkwood's F-4 were damaged, but both got home safely.
During the Phy Ly railroad yard attack on 16 July an F-8E from the Oriskany (Lieutenant Commander Demetrio A. Verich of VF-162) was hit by a SAM after dodging two others. Verich "punched out" and reached the ground safely in a karst area, a steep hillside covered with brush, tangled trees, and vines.28 It was only an hour before dark, however, and too late for an effort to be started. So Verich laid low, covered himself with branches and sweated out the long night, hearing voices of a nearby searching party. He was 30 miles south of Hanoi and about 50 miles from the coast. Early the next day a Big Mother helo flown by Lieutenant R. Sparks and Lieutenant (j.g.) Robin Springer, with crewmen ADJ1 Masengale and AE3 Ray, made the extremely hazardous trip. The SH-3 spent two hours and 23 minutes over North Vietnam under continuous attack before snatching Verich from the clutches of the nearby North Vietnamese searching party. Sparks won the Navy Cross for his heroic rescue.
Such rescues deep within North Vietnam and close to villages and cities were becoming increasingly difficult and risky. Not far from the incident just described, two A-4Es from the Oriskany's VA-164 were shot down on 18 July. Lieutenant (j.g.) Larrie J. Duthie was saved by a U.S. Air Force "Jolly Green Giant" helicopter in another hazardous rescue. But the attempt to rescue the second pilot, was not successful. In this instance, the Big Mother SAR helo from the Hornet (CVs-12) was hit by ground fire as it approached the scene, killing one crewman. A second Clementine helo, flown from the Worden (DLG-18), was also hit by the heavy automatic weapons fire, which damaged the main rotor, cut six inches off one blade of the tail rotor, and hit in the fuselage. Later in the day, in a third attempt, an SH-3 helicopter was shot down and four crewmen were killed. In addition, during the intensive SAR effort, still another A-4E (Lieutenant Barry T. Wood, VA-164) from the Oriskany was struck by antiaircraft fire over the scene. Low on fuel, Wood managed to reach the ocean, where he ejected and was rescued by a boat from the Richard B. Anderson (DP-786).
Obviously the-North Vietnamese were rushing antiaircraft guns into any rescue area, perhaps even allowing downed pilots to remain free while they set up flak traps. In many cases they used captured radios to send false messages.
The furious pace continued. In August 1967, 16 naval aircraft were shot down, six of them by SAMs. This was the highest loss to missiles in a single month. Two hundred and forty-nine SAMs were counted by the pilots, exceeding the previous high reached in July. During the single day of 21 August, 80 missiles were fired by the enemy, a record for the war.
Despite several days of bad weather early in August, TF-77 struck harder than ever before. For one thing, as we noted earlier, Washington had relaxed target restrictions along the Chinese border, and certain targets as close as eight miles to Red China, a minute's flying time, could be attacked. The Port Wallut naval base, the Lang Son railroad bridges, and the Na Phuco railroad yard, were now cleared for attack by aircraft from TF 77.
An example of one day's heavy work occurred on 21 August 1967, the day the 80 missiles were fired. The Constellation, Intrepid, and Oriskany were at Yankee Station, and the weather over North Vietnam was excellent.
Air Wing Ten on the Intrepid sent two major "Alfa" strikes against Port Wallut, 23 aircraft on the first attack, 21 three hours later on the second. A third Alfa strike by the Intrepid’s aircraft also struck the Van Dien army supply depot. Pilots saw at least seven secondary explosions and watched balls of black smoke rising to 1,000 feet. Eight buildings and warehouses were destroyed, seven others were damaged, the marine railway was lightly damaged, and one span of the bridge was knocked down. Fourteen SAMs were fired, but no aircraft were hit.
The Constellation’s Air Wing 14, meanwhile, was attacking two major targets, the Due Noi railroad yard and Kep airfield. Both antiaircraft and SAMs were very heavy, and three A-6s of VA-196 were lost. At Kep airfield, one revetted Colt (transport aircraft) was destroyed, another damaged, the runway was cratered, and heavy damage was inflicted on three barracks. The pilots from the Constellation counted 51 SAMs fired at their aircraft.
Commander Bryan W. Compton, Commanding Officer of VA-163 aboard the Oriskany, led an attack on the Hanoi thermal power plant, the same one that had been battered on 19 and 21 May. With typical determination, the enemy had made repairs, and recently smoke was seen issuing from the generator plant. In anticipation of further attacks, the enemy had brought in several additional 85 -mm. and 57-mm. guns to protect it.
Once again, Walleye weapons were used. On this occasion, five Walleyes were fired and five bullseyes resulted, three striking the generator hall and two the boiler house. Dense black and white smoke from the entire complex rose high in the air. Thirty SAMs were fired at the strike aircraft. The 85-mm., 57-mm., and small arms flak was the heaviest seen to date, but no planes were lost. Two were badly damaged. One, flown by Lieutenant Commander Dean A. Cramer, returned with 53 holes in it, while the second, flown by Lieutenant Commander James B. Busey, landed aboard with 127 holes, a fire in the starboard wing, the end of the starboard horizontal stabilizer gone, and all of the starboard elevator shot off.
In addition to hitting targets in North Vietnam, TF 77 pilots got a rare opportunity late in July and early in August to hit something besides interdiction targets: PT boats of the North Vietnamese Navy. On 28 July, Lieutenant Commander J. O. Harmon and Lieutenant (j.g.) R. L. Lindsay of VA-152 set fire to one PT boat near Haiphong. On 1 August, pilots from the Oriskany left a second one smouldering. And on 4 August, two A-4E pilots from attack squadron-164 on board the Oriskany (Lieutenant Russell H. Decker and Lieutenant David Hodges) sighted another P4 hidden against a small island. Attacking with Zuni rockets and 20mm cannon, they set her on fire. Lieutenant Decker called for help when he was out of ordnance and low on fuel. Two A-i rescue combat air patrol pilots from the USS Oriskany's VA-152, Lieutenant Commander J. O. Harmon and Lieutenant (j.g.) Ashton Langlinais, were vectored in to complete the kill. They fired Zuni rockets and 20-mm. cannon and, before they departed, the enemy boat had sunk.29
As the weather began to turn sour in October 1967, the A-6 Intruders once again came into their own as they had done during the 1966 northeast monsoon season, for at night and in bad weather they were the only aircraft in the American inventory able to find, strike, and destroy point targets in the heavily defended northeast quadrant. The Intruders became the scourge of the Iron Triangle.
On 27 October, six A-6s executed individual night time attacks on the Hanoi ferry slips, each successive aircraft encountering increasing opposition.
On the night of 30 October 1967, a single A-6A Intruder launched from the deck of Constellation successfully completed one of the most difficult single-plane strikes in the history of air warfare. Once again, the purpose of the strike was to drop eighteen 500-pound bombs on the all-important Hanoi railroad ferry slip, and to keep it inoperative. The A-6 mission was flown by Lieutenant Commander Charles B. Hunter with Lieutenant Lyle F. Bull, bombardier navigator, from VA-196. This mission will be described in some detail since it is typical of the capability of the A-6 and of the courage, tenacity, and airmanship of the A-6 Intruder crews.
By late 1967, Hanoi had become the most heavily defended city against air attack in the history of warfare It was defended by fifteen "hot" or occupied SAM sites at least 560 known anti-aircraft guns of various calibers and some MiG-17s or 21S at nearby airfields. The mission called for making a low-level, instrument approach across the rugged karst mountains surrounding the Red River Valley. It would then be necessary to drop a string of eighteen 500-pound bombs along an impact line of 2,800 feet. By using maximum concealment and by flying at low level, it was hoped that the plane could remain below the effective SAM envelope. However, this approach would require Lieutenant Commander Hunter to maintain a constant bombing course and altitude for several seconds during a highly vulnerable period of the attack.
The mission was routine until Hunter was about 18 miles from Hanoi, still navigating by radar between and over the karsts. At this point, his instruments and earphones indicated that the enemy's missile search radar had detected his presence. He immediately descended to hide himself below the radar horizon. Shortly thereafter Lieutenant Bull acquired the "IP" (initial point—a recognizable location) on his radar and immediately commenced to make his bombing solution of the aircraft's computer and bombing equipment. While he was doing so, Hunter's instruments and earphones indicated that a second SAM battery was preparing to fire at him, so he descended once again. To those who have not flown a plane, it is difficult to describe the courage and skill required to fly a heavily loaded aircraft at 460 knots, on instruments, at night, above unfamiliar terrain, while maintaining a very low altitude.
It was now time to turn to the bombing heading As he did so, Hunter caught sight of the first of 16 SAM that would be fired at him. "When I first saw it, it was dead ahead and above me," he said, "and it appeared that it would pass overhead. However, just as it got overhead, I could see it turn directly downward and head for us. To me, the rocket exhaust looked like a doughnut." At this point, he might have jettisoned his bombs, aborted the mission, and headed for home. Instead, with 9,000 pounds of bombs under his wings he executed a high "G" barrel-roll to port from a very low altitude—an exceedingly dangerous maneuver. The SAM exploded within 200 feet, shaking the aircraft violently. Hunter's roll took him to 2,000 feet, inverted but he continued rolling and leveled out again, flying low within a few degrees of the desired inbound heading. By keeping on course to target while making the violent maneuver, he was able to maintain Lieutenant Bull's accurate work on the computer so that the radar cursors could continue tracking the target and making the bombing solution.
The actual bombing run on the Hanoi ferry slip now began. "At this time," said Hunter, "the AAA fire was so heavy that it lit up the countryside and I could see details on the ground pretty well." As the sky lit up with flak, Bull spotted two SAMs approaching at 2 o'clock (to the right of his nose) and Hunter saw three more SAMs between 10 and 11 o'clock (to the left of his nose). At least five missiles were now airborne and aimed at the Intruder.
There was no chance to avoid them, if the attack was to be pressed. So, for the last seven miles, the aircraft was flown at deck level on the radar altimeter in the hope that during the on-the-deck approach the SAMs would be unable to guide on the fast-moving Intruder. As each successive SAM exploded directly overhead, approximately 400 feet above the canopy, it filled the cockpit with an orange glow and made the aircraft shudder. "During the run-in to target a continuous barrage of flak lit the sky around the aircraft as if it were daylight," said Hunter. Numerous searchlights also illuminated the aircraft for the benefit of small arms and automatic weapons sites.
Despite all the flak, SAMs, and searchlights, the A-6 bored in and released its bombs whereupon Hunter made a seven-"G" turn to starboard. During this turn, four additional SAM explosions were experienced aft and above the aircraft. In the amply flak-lit sky, it was easy to see the intended target clearly visible next to the Red River and to watch the string of bombs fall on the assigned target. Hunter rolled out, heading southeast at various altitudes, some of them high, and commenced heavy jinking to cope with a cockpit indication that a MiG-21 was not on his tail. Sporadic flak was encountered until the coast was reached.
It was missions like this, night after night over Haiphong, and Hanoi, which caused Vice Admiral William F. Bringle, Commander Seventh Fleet, to say, “The low-level night missions flown by the A-6 over Hanoi and Haiphong were the most demanding missions we have ever asked our aircrews to fly. Fortunately, there is an abundance of talent, courage, and aggressive leadership in these A-6 squadrons."
Attacks on Shipyards and Railroads. While the A-6s continued their nocturnal, single-plane raids, and the attempt to isolate Haiphong by multi-plane day attack was maintained, a new target system was struck: shipyards and barge-building yards. On 12 October 1967, the Oriskany’s pilots, led by Commander Elbert Lighter (Executive Officer, VA-163), conducted an Alfa strike on the Haiphong Shipyard, with excellent results. A power boat and five barges (one of which was in the graving dock) were sunk, and all support buildings within the yard were destroyed. A few minutes later, pilots from the Intrepid attacked the boat yard at Lach Tray and heavily damaged it. One A-4C sustained four 6-inch holes in its wing, but the pilot was able to return safely to the "Fighting I.” The third yard, Haiphong West, was rendered completely unserviceable by the Intrepid. All support buildings, the fabrication shops, and the two marine railways were destroyed, and seven shipways were heavily damaged.
In November 1967, other shipyards were struck. On 7 November, the Constellation's Air Wing 14 scored numerous direct hits on the Ninh Ngoai boat works and the An Ninh Noi boat yard. Three A-6s from the "Connie” made visual runs on the Yen Cuong boat repair yard, dropping fifty-four 500-pound bombs. Five vessels were destroyed, the building ways interdicted, and four barges under construction heavily damaged. Simultaneously, the Intrepid's pilots attacked the Uong Bi barge yard and reported that their bombs produced several large fireballs. On 13 November, the Intrepid's air wing attacked the Phui Nighai Thuong boat yard and the Uong Bi barge yard, while on the 16th, airplanes from the Coral Sea (CVA-43) attacked Haiphong shipyard number two. Photography showed excellent results—severe damage to one graving dock, the slipway destroyed, ten support buildings demolished, and six others damaged. Flak was heavy, and the Coral Sea pilots counted 8 SAMs during the attack. On 17 November 1967, the aircraft of Intrepid's Air Wing 10 heavily damaged the Hanoi barge yard. The strike consisted of 26 aircraft, led by Commander Richard A. Wigent, Commanding Officer of VA-34. "There were many SAMs in the air,” he said, "the most I’ve ever seen.” One of them demolished a Skyhawk; the pilot ejected from his burning aircraft and was immediately captured.
No attempt was made by the North Vietnamese to repair these damaged shipyards. Instead, the enemy took advantage of the sanctuaries of Haiphong and Hanoi. Photographs taken in January 1968 revealed four new barge construction sites in Haiphong, two along the streets and plazas, and two in heavily inhabited areas where attacks were forbidden. Thus, the Communists maintained their double standard, putting military targets in known sanctuaries, pulling every propaganda stop to call for a bombing cease-fire, and at the same time waging an unceasing campaign of assassination and terror against the civilian populace of the South. All this was suffered to pass with little criticism from the world community.
In December 1967, whenever the monsoon weather abated, the northeast quadrant was struck and the cordon around Haiphong was kept taut. The major rail lines of the Iron Triangle received particular attention. The Oriskany's pilots caught a 40-car train southeast of Phy Ly on 14 December and destroyed eight cars and damaged eight more. Pilots from the Ranger (CVA-61) located and struck a 30-car train south of Hanoi and wrecked the engine and several cars.
The Ranger had arrived on station on 3 December, bringing two new aircraft, the A-7A Corsair II, flown by Attack Squadron 147, and the EKA-3B Tacos. The A-7A Corsair, a single place, light attack jet aircraft, featured advanced radar, navigation and weapons systems, and could carry a 15,000-pound bomb load. The EKA-3B Tacos was a much-modified model of the A-3 Skywarrior, rebuilt especially for the electronic warfare environment of North Vietnam.
As the year closed and the holidays approached, the aerial mining of the coastal and inland waterways was intensified, for previous experience had shown that the Communists would make a maximum effort to move supplies during the holiday standdowns.
In 1966, in fact, the Joint Chiefs of Staff had taken a position of strong opposition to any cessation of military operations during the Christmas and Tet holiday seasons. But, if a cease-fire had to be made, the Joint Chiefs said, it should be limited to a maximum of 48 hours in order to minimize the military advantages given the enemy. In every previous case of a Tet or other holiday standdown, the enemy had conducted major resupply operations and had replenished his forces, all of which cost the United States greater casualties. For example, between 8 and 12 February 1966 aerial reconnaissance revealed significant logistic movement of material by water, truck, and rail transport—between 22,300 and 25,100 tons of supplies were moved from the north into the area below 19 degrees North Latitude.
Prior to the 24-hour Christmas and 36-hour New Year standdowns in 1967, there were many indications that the enemy planned once more to take full advantage of these periods. Later events proved that he conducted a massive and well organized resupply of the forces. Almost 1,300 trucks were noted in the Panhandle by pilots and photo-interpreters during Christmas and about 1,800 during the slightly longer New Year standdown down. This compared with a daily average of only 170 for the other days between 22 December 1967 and in January 1968. Pilots of the Kitty Hawk flying over the coastal highway during the Christmas standdown counted 560 trucks bumper to bumper over a seven-mile section of road. During the New Year's standdown more than 1,000 trucks were counted moving south Pilots reported that the coastal road looked "like the New Jersey turnpike."
By October 1967, some 200,000 tons of goods imported by sea had piled up and were stacked in mountainous piles in open storage areas near the Haiphong docks. There was some uncertainty whether the enemy considered these stockpiles "safe" by our own self-imposed restrictions forbidding attack on them, or whether they were jammed up because the supplies could not be moved south. In any event, authority was never granted to attack these huge stockpiles or the Haiphong docks and warehouses.
On the positive side, early in November intelligence indicated that the frequent night and day air alerts were slowing work on the Haiphong docks as workers took shelter. Absenteeism among stevedores increased because of the dangers of coming to work. It was also reported that dock workers suffered from hunger and weariness. Ship unloading times increased from 13 days to 42 days. A shortage of trucks and lighters slowed down the unloading of ships and the clearing of cargo from the port. The mere presence of U. S. aircraft in the area reduced effective dredging of the approaches to Haiphong, and foreign merchant ships were unable to take advantage of their full load capacity.
The key rail line running south from Hanoi and Haiphong to Thanh Hoa was kept cut in several places along its 100-mile length. These frequent cuts of often provided opportunities for attacks on trains trail trapped between cuts-58 cars were destroyed in the Ninh Binh railroad siding in November. Also, with bridges along the key rail line down, the enemy was forced to offload at every crossing, ferry the cars and supplies across (usually at night), and reload them on the other side. Aircraft from the Coral Sea and the Intrepid caught another train at a river crossing in November and destroyed 25 rail cars.
Although Secretary McNamara in late August 1967 had testified voluminously before Senator Stennis' Preparedness Committee against expanding the bombing, the first public expression of doubt that the bombing wasn't accomplishing what was expected reached the pilots in combat on 10 October 1967 when the Secretary voiced disappointment.
“I do not think [the bombing) has in any significant way affected their war making capability," he said. “…the North Vietnamese still retain the capability to support activities in South Vietnam and Laos at present or increased combat levels and force structure.
"All of the evidence is so far that we have not been able to destroy a sufficient quantity [of war material in North Vietnam] to limit the activity in the South below the present level, and I do not know we can in the future."
To the pilots who were risking their lives daily under the restrictive targeting system and flight rules imposed by Secretary McNamara, who were not allowed to destroy the supplies where they could be seen, it was a disheartening judgment.
Despite the bad weather, the missiles, the MIGs, and the flak, and despite all the bombing restrictions, the 1967 accomplishments of Task Force 77 were impressive. Thirty SAM been sites and 187 AAA/AW gun batteries had destroyed. Nine hundred fifty-five bridges were destroyed and 1,586 others were damaged. Seven hundred thirty-four motor vehicles, 410 locomotives and rail cars, and 3,185 watercraft had been destroyed.
During the year, eleven carriers had participated in operations as part of Task Force 77—the Bon Homme Richard, Constellation, Coral Sea, Enterprise, Forrestal, Hancock, Intrepid, Kitty Hawk, Oriskany, Ranger, and Ticonderoga. Many thousands of attack sorties had been flown over North Vietnam. Fourteen MIG aircraft had been destroyed in the air, 32 others on the ground. One hundred thirty-three aircraft had been lost in combat. This was a 9% increase over losses in 1966. Approximately one-third of the crews of aircraft shot down by the North Vietnamese had been recovered by the courageous and resourceful rescue units.
Admiral Roy Johnson, CinCPacFlt, made a cogent judgment. "There can be no doubt," he said, "that the effort of TF 77 in the North had saved many American lives in the land campaigns in the South."
Five hundred thousand civilians in North Vietnam were engaged in air defense or repair activities on the lines of communication. This diversion of manpower from other pursuits, particularly agriculture, had raised the cost and difficulty of the war for Hanoi.
As 1967 closed, and the northeast monsoon intensified, it was apparent that the war in Southeast Asia had become very much a war of determination, Communist determination to conduct and support aggression in the South versus the determination of the Free World to halt that aggression through the application of controlled air power.
1968
The final three months of effort before the 31 March bombing halt was drastically curtailed owing to the northeast monsoon. During January, February, and March, the weather was even worse than predicted. In the Iron Triangle, there was an average of only three days per month during which visual strikes could be accomplished. The weather in February 1968, in fact, was the poorest experienced during any month since the beginning of air interdiction, with only three per cent of the days having flying weather. In March, it was 6%.
Thus, the A-6 Intruder, with its all-weather tactical bombing system, bore the brunt of the bombing, averaging a dozen sorties per day, hitting four airfields, four power plants, and two new targets, the Hanoi radio station and the Hanoi port facility.
The campaign against lines of communication around Haiphong forced the North Vietnamese to adopt extraordinary efforts to maintain a flow of material over existing lines. Distribution problems for Hanoi were further aggravated by the arrival of a near-record number of foreign ships in Haiphong: over 40 in January, and a similar number in March. The port of Hon Gai was pressed into service by the Communists as a discharge point in an effort to reduce the pressure of Haiphong. Normally this port served only the nearby coal mining area and did not contribute significantly to the flow of imports into the country.
Expansion of the road networks continued as North Vietnam sought to gain flexibility by adding bypasses and constructing new segments of road. Of particular significance was the route being built to connect Red China with the Haiphong region, a development which would make it possible to add 1,000 metric tons of supplies to the quantity entering North Vietnam each day. Repair efforts elsewhere in the country were vigorously pursued. The Paul Doumer bridge, located immediately north of Hanoi, was the object of numerous air attacks by the U. S. Air Force and suffered heavy damage. Along with repairs to that bridge, several bridge bypasses and ferry landings were built near the bridge, a testimony to the importance of the route to the enemy, who used it to move material coming from both Communist China and Haiphong.
1968 Standdowns
There were two brief standdown periods in January— New Year’s and Tet. As they had always done before, the North Vietnamese took full advantage of the ceasefire to move a great amount of supplies as far south as possible. In Route Package II alone, 378 trucks were seen and photographed, 337 of them moving south, and it was estimated that 9,000 tons of war materials had been moved in these vehicles. Reconnaissance sorties flown during the 36-hour New Year’s standdown located a total of 800 trucks, 130 boats, and 159 railroad cars, 90% of which were headed south. Air strikes against these targets during the 24 hours immediately following New Year’s accounted for 24 trucks destroyed and 13 damaged, 28 boats destroyed and 47 damaged, and 41 railroad cars destroyed and 47 damaged.
It was during these attacks that F-8 pilots from the Oriskany bagged two locomotives with their heat-seeking Sidewinder missiles. Commander Charles A. L. Swanson, Commanding Officer of VF-162, got one on 2 January, when he got a lock-on and a direct hit in the firebox, which resulted in a tremendous explosion. Later the stalled 45-car train was badly damaged. On 6 January, Lieutenant Commander John S. Heilman of VF-162 got the second engine kill. His Sidewinder locked on and hit the locomotive boiler aft of the stack, with the boiler erupting in a geyser of steam and water.
The second January cease-fire, for Tet, was also scheduled for 36 hours (1800 on 29 January to 0600 on 31 January). But on the first day of the cease-fire, 29 January, the North Vietnamese launched their powerful Tet offensive against selected military installations and provincial capitals throughout South Vietnam. The most spectacular of these took place in and around Saigon, where the enemy attacked the President’s Palace, the U. S. Embassy, and Tan Son Nhut Air Base, but were unsuccessful in their attempts to capture or destroy any of these. The main purpose of the attacks was psychological rather than political, to show that the Communists still had effective combat capabilities, that South Vietnam had not been made secure by the presence of more than a half million Americans, and that the bombing effort against North Vietnam was a failure.
As a result of this Communist offensive, the Tet cease-fire was cancelled and all forces resumed intensified operations. Moreover, U. S. forces were permitted to use armed reconnaissance aircraft south of Vinh which forced the North Vietnamese to use fewer and smaller truck convoys. Aircraft of Task Force 77 saw only 30 trucks in the Tet period, less than one-third of those sighted during the New Year's standdown period.
The Thanh Hoa Railroad and Highway Bridge. On 28 January, during a break in the northeast monsoon several major Alfa strikes were directed against North Vietnam. One of the targets was the seemingly indestructible Thanh Hoa railroad and highway bridge. For three years, U. S. Navy, Air Force, and Marine aircraft attacked this steel bridge which carries both highway 1A and the main east coast rail line. In 1965, 277 some had struck it; 135 in 1966; 204 in 1967. More than 1,250 tons of all types of heavy ordnance had been dropped on this bridge, and eight aircraft had been lost in the nearly 700 attack sorties, but the rugged, heavily trussed stone bridge, built into an outcropping of solid rock, while often damaged, was still intact and is still in use.
"The enemy had long since built several bypass around the Thanh Hoa bridge," said Rear Admiral David C. Richardson, the Commander of Task Force 77, "and it had lost a great deal of its importance of the interdiction effort."
"For this reason, I placed the bridge off-limits and would only occasionally approve attacks on it. To all pilots of TF 77, the psychological importance of the bridge far exceeded its tactical importance. Every air wing out in WestPac wanted the honor of knocked it down and it gave the pilots a real boost to occasionally go after it."
In November, on the last strike of their 1966 deployment aboard the Constellation, CVW-15 received approval from Rear Admiral Richardson for a final time at the Thanh Hoa bridge before returning home. Hope ran high and the first post-strike reports of smoke, vapor, and dust obscuring the target kept open the possibility that this symbol of the North Vietnam transportation network was at last destroyed. In fact, the carrier's skipper, Captain Bill Houser, rushed the optimistic pilot reports to Rear Admiral Richardson. (We got it, we got it!" he exclaimed. Unfortunately, subsequent photography confirmed the fact that this narrow horizontal steel birdcage had once again withstood Yankee attack.
Five more strikes by the Navy and Air Force went against the heavily defended bridge in January 1968. Carrier Air Wing 15, including attack squadrons VA-153 and VA-155, this time aboard the Coral Sea, made attacks on 28 January. Direct hits were achieved on the span with 2,000-pound bombs, two holes were punched in the bridge decking, the truss structure at the eastern end of the bridge was damaged, and the western approach was closed. But, once again, the bridge did not go down, and by 8 February it was again in service.
Captain W. B. Muncie reported one theory for the seeming indestructibility of the bridge that the earth was composed of two giant elliptical hemispheres, spring hinged somewhere beneath the South Atlantic Ocean and clamped firmly shut on the other side by the Thanh Hoa bridge. This theory had it that if the Thanh Hoa bridge were ever destroyed, the world would snap open, flipping man and beast hither and yon, and upsetting the gravitational balance of the universe.
It was the one target in North Vietnam that nobody could destroy.
TF 77 Provides Relief to Khe Sanh
During January 1968, TF 77 flew 811 attack sorties in support of the U. S. Marines at Khe Sanh, striking at enemy troop concentrations, artillery and rocket positions, and storage areas. On 31 January, TF 77 was requested to provide 1000 sorties per day to help the embattled Marines in Operation Niagara. In February, almost 1,500 attack sorties were flown in support of the Marine base. Another 1,600 attack sorties were flown in March, attacking weapon sites, troop concentrations, rocket positions, base camps, tanks, and trucks. In many instances, TF 77 pilots dropped ordnance on enemy trenches within 100 meters of the defending Marines.
In February 1968, with Washington calling for increased bombing pressure against Hanoi to coerce the North Vietnamese to the conference table, and in the face of the monsoon season's worst weather, the burden fell gain on the A-6 Intruders. The Kitty Hawk's VA-75, commanded by Commander Jerrold Zacharias, led the way. On 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 13, 14, 16, and 18 February, attacked a variety of targets in the Iron Triangle: airfields, power plants, the Hanoi-Haiphong bridge, barge construction facilities, the Hanoi radio communication facility, and railroad yards.
The A-6 mission flown on 24 February against the Hanoi port facility deserves mention. This was a newly authorized target on the southeast corner of the city, lying along the Red River and immediately south of Gia Lam airfield. Three aircraft were launched, with Commander Zacharias and his B/N, Lieutenant Commander M. R. Hall leading the way.
"There was no moon,” said Commander Zacharias, "and we used our terrain avoidance radar to fly at 400 to 500 feet above the peaks. When I knew we were clear of the mountains, I descended to the deck so the SAM radars couldn’t pick us up. With no moonlight, I was strictly 'on the gauges’ although I could just discern some ground texture at this altitude. After about a minute in the flat lands, we saw a SAM launch at twelve o’clock. The bottom of the overcast was 1,000 feet and the light from the SAM booster rocket reflected off the bottom of the overcast and from every rice paddy between the missile and the aircraft, providing a very nice horizon. The missile was about 10 miles away and had been fired directly toward us. I descended somewhat, but overshot a little and Mike called level at 40 feet. That was too low and so I went back up a way. A few seconds later we saw the second SAM headed our way—it was off our nose to the right, so I made a slight course change to the right to place the missile on the left side of the aircraft where I could see it at all times. About five seconds later, I saw the missile make a course change to compensate for our alteration of heading and it resumed its course toward us. I waited until I thought it was the right time and then changed both our course and altitude. The first missile exploded under us, right where we had been, and buffeted the aircraft quite a bit. On our inbound run they fired no more missiles, perhaps because they were afraid one would land in the city. At about six miles, every gun in town opened up and they were really awake by now. Mike picked up the target. As we got near it, I popped up and delivered 24 bombs. Although Hanoi was completely blacked out by the time we got there, there was enough light from all the flak so that I could see the river banks and determine that we were on our target. At bomb release I broke down and left and crossed the downtown part of Hanoi at 530 knots just to wake up the heavy sleepers. We then altered course frequently to avoid the many flak sites which were really hosing the sky. I could see it all going up and could pick the holes where it looked the lightest to go between.”
After 60 days on the line, the Kitty Hawk welcomed the arrival of the Enterprise at Yankee Station. On board was VA-35, commanded by Commander Glenn E. Koll- man. It would be their task to carry on the outstanding efforts of VA-75.
"During this period,” Rear Admiral John P. Weinel, commented, "the effort of the A-6 Intruders of VA-35 was magnificent.”
Conclusions
On the night of 31 March 1968, President Johnson made his dramatic announcement of a bombing halt north of Latitude 20 degrees North latitude, and revealed his decision not to run again for the Presidency:
"Tonight I have ordered our aircraft and our naval vessels to make no attacks on North Vietnam, except in the area north of the demilitarized zone where the continuing enemy buildup directly threatens Allied forward positions and where the movements of their troops and supplies are clearly related to that threat.”
Seven months later, the President would order cessation of all attacks on North Vietnam.
The pullback from the war in Southeast Asia had begun.
The 37-month effort had cost Task Force 77 over 300 airplanes destroyed in combat over North Vietnam, 1,000 others damaged, 83 pilots and crewmen killed, 200 captured and missing. What had it accomplished?
The damage to the enemy had certainly been heavy. His transportation system, roads, rail lines, and bridges, had been wrecked. His above-ground fuel system had been destroyed. His war-making industry had been levelled. His other main industries had been severely damaged. All major electric power generating plants had been severely damaged. His airfields and his air force had been rendered ineffective. His military complexes had been devastated. In those 37 months, the enemy had not won a major ground battle. He had certainly not succeeded in subjugating South Vietnam by force.
On the other hand, we had not forced him to halt his aggression. We had forced him to the peace table, but we had not forced him to make peace.
Looking back on the campaign involving Task Force 77, several political, psychological, military, and technical insights into the experiences of the aerial bombing campaign deserve discussion.
Political
The air bombing campaign against North Vietnam was undertaken on three assumptions: that a vigorous, non-restrictive war against North Vietnam might involve the U. S. directly with Russia, or Red China, or both, and so must be avoided; that a restrained and gradually escalating bombing effort would convince Hanoi that its goals in South Vietnam could not be achieved; and that American military involvement would be of relatively short duration and modest cost. With the benefit of hindsight, these assumptions now appear to have been questionable.
As a result of the third assumption, there were, at home, no restrictions on wages and prices, no increased taxes, no rationing, and no censorship. The ordinary citizen was not greatly affected, nor was he involved in the war in a personal sense. True, anyone could see it on TV and read about it in his newspaper, but the war was half a world away.
Similarly, despite repeated recommendations by military leaders that this be done, there was no call-up or reserves until 26 January 1968, following the seizure of USS Pueblo (AGER-2) by the North Koreans. This shielded from the war's impact, there was no unifying action to bring the individual and the nation together in a common cause.
Psychological
There was also a major psychological miscalculation—that American determination and patience would exceed that of North Vietnam. President Johnson had said in his Baltimore speech in April 1965, will not grow tired." The early purpose of Rolling Thunder, as stated by Washington, "was to drive home to the North Vietnamese leaders that our staying power was superior to their own." Evidently, the "signal never reached Hanoi, whose leaders proved to be on our wave length.
It was a major miscalculation—that we would outlast them. Indeed, the North Vietnamese assumed just the opposite—that they would outlast us. Hanoi believed its own morale, tenacity, and patience would be stronger than that of the United States. From the beginning, they publicly stated their opinion that enormous costs and casualties would eventually persuade the United States to negotiate on their terms.
Military
There were five major military lessons of the air war in South Vietnam.
First, there was a major miscalculation concerning the air bombing effort—that interdiction could succeed in snuffing out the war. Indeed, interdiction might have succeeded—had the restrictions and ground rules been different, had the recommendations for prompt and vigorous military action been accepted, and had the military pressure on Hanoi been steady rather than spasmodic. In fact, the interdiction campaign almost succeeded despite the rules. If Haiphong had been mined and closed, if military leaders had been given the flexibility needed to fight the war successfully, and if the full weight of American effort assembled in the Western Pacific had been applied properly, early, forcefully, and steadily, interdiction might have prevented "the enemy's use of an area or route."
A subtle distinction must be made here. As the war intensified in 1965, interdiction was not, per se, the objective of the bombing effort. The purpose of interdiction in the spring of 1965 was political, not military—to make the enemy stop the war and march to the peace table. Hence, the gradual release of targets and carefully detailed military control of the war from Washington, a procedure which was never relaxed.
When, after a year, the war was getting bigger and more expensive, and the enemy had not given a single hint of either stopping the war or making a peace, the air war became one of dual purposes—to choke off the aggression in South Vietnam and also to persuade Hanoi to seek peace.
In this context, given the constraints, delays, and restrictions imposed, it was a false assumption that interdiction could succeed.
The second military lesson of the air war concerned the closure of Haiphong. In the opinion of most naval and military experts, the single military action which would have hurt North Vietnam most would have been the closing of Haiphong. The vast majority (at least 85 per cent) of the enemy's military strength—missiles, ammunition, trucks, fuel, and so on—came into Haiphong by sea. Hanoi and Haiphong were off limits in the early part of the war, so no mining was done then. Later, when the repeated proposals by the military to mine. Haiphong were finally considered, studies were conducted which "proved” that mining was either impossible, infeasible, or would be ineffective. Two other reasons were given for not mining that port. First, that it would escalate the war and risk confrontation either with Russia or Red China or both; second, even if closing Haiphong with mines was accomplished, North Vietnam would be able to sustain itself by increased rail shipments from Russia and China, or even by flying the war materials into North Vietnam’s air fields. (See pages 206-209, Confirm or Deny. "McNamara made it unmistakably clear,” says Goulding, "that he believed the expanded bombing, with the mining of Haiphong, would endanger seriously the security of the nation.”)
The third military lesson of the air interdiction campaign was that we should make use of what we have learned from previous wars. We learned in the Korean War that true air interdiction—the denial of areas and use of transportation systems—cannot be achieved against a determined enemy until night and all-weather bombing can be done with as much accuracy, sustained pressure, and efficiency as by daylight. And after Korea we concluded that never again would we give sanctuaries to an enemy; never again would we fight on the enemy’s terms; never again would we handcuff ourselves.
The fourth, and perhaps the most curious military lesson of the interdiction campaign was one which did not surface until 1970. For five years in the Gulf of Tonkin (1965-1970) and for three years in the Sea of Japan (1950-1953), aircraft carriers had been employed as floating airfields—tied to a geographic station, less than a 100 miles from the enemy’s coast, sending aircraft against targets deep in the enemy’s land. This type of employment had become so habitual and predominant that, in the minds of many, it was assumed to be the primary purpose of attack carriers: sea based tactical air augmenting (in the minds of some, competing with) land based tactical air. Attack carriers can indeed be so employed—as Korea and Vietnam amply proved. This employment notwithstanding, the main mission for attack aircraft carriers is to assist in carrying out the Navy’s prime mission, control of the seas. Supporting the land battle is strictly a secondary and collateral task.
The employment of carriers in the style of the Sea of Japan and the Gulf of Tonkin made no use of a prime advantage of carriers—their mobility—but this should not become a practice elsewhere.
Admiral Roy L. Johnson, CinCPacFlt, stated, "Had we faced a serious air threat or submarine threat in the Gulf of Tonkin, we might have gotten in serious trouble by operating near a fixed point. . . . Task Force 77 could have achieved the same approximate effort against North Vietnam by not operating in the Gulf of Tonkin, but by roaming up and down the coast.”
The fifth, and most important, military lesson of the war in Southeast Asia was that it is not possible to conclude a conflict successfully if those who direct it are convinced it cannot or should not be done.
Two of the many other important military lessons of the war have to do with the policy of "gradualism” and targeting.
The policy of gradualism found its birth in a series of Pentagon papers in March 1964. The JCS, in a 2 March memorandum to Secretary McNamara, presented two ways of terminating the conflict in Southeast Asia without involving the United States with Red China. The first would be small scale, cross-the-border operations by South Vietnamese forces against the Ho Chi Minh trail. The second way would be pressure against North Vietnam itself, especially air operations. These could be sudden or heavy air attacks to demonstrate U. S. determination to halt Hanoi’s aggression, or they could be gradual attacks, at first by the South Vietnamese Air Force, on an accelerating line of severity. Secretary McNamara, in mid-March, recommended to the President a gradual campaign of overt naval and military pressure against Hanoi. The President approved this recommendation 17 March 1964, but called for prior approval by the United States’ allies.
From the vantage point of hindsight, the policy of applying military pressure in small doses proved to be a mistake. It turned out to be more expensive in lives, weapons, treasure, and time than had the traditional system of choosing a political goal, adopting a strategy, and then granting authority and responsibility to the military to reach that goal.
The close control of targets, including tactical details, was excessive. Because of the unpredictability of the weather and the need for flexibility to meet rapidly changing tactical conditions, the interdiction effort was severely hampered by the remote control system of targeting that developed. Recommendations by commanders in the field were not followed. In addition, the centralized control of the war from afar, which in the early months of the war specified the kind, size, and number of bombs to be dropped, and the number and type of aircraft to carry them, gave the leaders on the scene difficult and unwieldy problems.
Technical
One of the major technical accomplishments of TF 77 was the development of a tremendous capability to operate attack carriers around the clock, despite weather or darkness. For days and weeks on end, the carriers at Yankee Station operated without pause in a sustained manner which was unknown and, indeed unattainable, in either Korea or World War II. The replenishment process, of bringing ammunition, fuel, and supplies the Fleet, was perfected, allowing the carriers to around the clock without interruption.
The 1965-1968 war in Southeast Asia saw two major areas of warfare rise to prominence—electronic warfare and missile warfare. In every area—land, sea, and air—electronic countermeasures began to play a prominent role, and especially so in the air. Planes had to have electronic devices to warn of an approaching missile and devices to divert or "spoof" it. To attack the missile sites, other electronic devices were needed to point the location (or at least the direction) on the ground whence the missile radar signals came. Special weapons were developed to seek out and destroy enemy missile and radar sites by homing in on their radiations. The Shrike and Standard ARM were such weapons. Electronics were also the heart of another weapon, the Walleye, the flying TV bomb.
The simple and effective SAMs gave the enemy's defense a giant step forward, and forced pilots either to go low and face a deadly barrage of gunfire, or to go high and bomb with far less accuracy.
In terms of new airplanes, there was never a period in the history of naval aviation when so many new aircraft, weapons, and ideas came to fruition. Propeller aircraft, unable to survive in the high threat areas of North Vietnam, disappeared from naval air's attack inventory. To take the place of the venerable A-1 Spads came the highly effective new attack bomber, the A-7 Corsair II. The A-6 Intruder, perhaps the best tactical military airplane ever developed, also came. And behind these two attack aircraft were several others—the RA-7C multi-sensor reconnaissance airplane, and the first built from-the-ground-up ECM aircraft, the EA-6A (flown only by the Marines, but used on many occasions to support naval air missions in the north). Finally, there were the E-2A Hawkeye early warning aircraft and its cargo variant, the C-2 Greyhound.
In the field of weapons, the parade of progress was equally impressive: Walleye, Sparrow, Sidewinder Snakeye, Shrike, Standard ARM, Focus, Rockeye, cluster bomblet ordnance, and the land-mine.
In the field of aerial tactics, the development of night visual bombing attacks on pin-point targets (bridges trucks, check points) was another important accomplishment.
Civilian Control of the Military
If ever there was an American war where civilian control over the military was exercised during actual combat operations, the war in Southeast Asia certainly was it. Civilian control was complete, unquestioned ubiquitous, and detailed, not merely at the higher levels of strategy and political decisions, but also—very importantly—at the lower levels of operations and tactics. This analysis of Task Force 77 operations has given only a few of the many details and numerous examples of the extensive nature of this control.
It is also evident that, at every level, the military was conscientiously obedient, subservient, and responsive to this civilian control. The record shows clearly that naval pilots obeyed the orders to bomb none other than authorized targets. Not once did a responsible commander exceed his authority or disobey his orders. Not once did any naval airman succumb to the temptation of dropping a string of bombs on a loaded merchant ship, or fire into the hugh stockpile of oil drums and war materials stacked on the Haiphong piers.
In this war, civilian control was complete and total.
Summary
What would have happened to Southeast Asia if the United States had not intervened? Where would we be today if we had abandoned Indochina in 1965? What if the bombing effort had not been undertaken?
There can be little doubt that South Vietnam would now be lost, and in short order, Laos, Cambodia, and perhaps Thailand would have fallen. The Communist domination of the whole of Southeast Asia, including Indonesia, Malaysia, and Burma, would by now be far advanced or would already have taken place. Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines would have come under new and powerful influences.
But the firm stand of the United States in South Vietnam in the period 1965 to 1968 succeeded in preserving South Vietnam. It held the Communists at bay in Laos. It strengthened Thailand, and it bought time in Cambodia. When these facts are combined with the defeat of a Communist coup in Indonesia and the internal turmoil in Red China, it is a fair conclusion that U.S. involvement in Vietnam delayed indefinitely the Communist march across Asia and the Western Pacific. So, while there was no military victory, neither was there defeat. And while air interdiction did not strangle the war, it did force the opening of discussions for a political settlement, discussions which still continue.
Vice Admiral Ralph W. Cousins, Commander Task Force 77 during the height of the interdiction effort, summed up in his farewell speech perhaps the major lesson of the war:
“In these years," he told the Fleet on his departure, “we have seen Task Force 77 take the war to the enemy—into the very heart of North Vietnam— ‘downtown’ Hanoi and Haiphong, as the pilots say—into an area where by general consensus the flak and the surface-to-air missiles presented our aircrewmen with the most hostile environment in the history of warfare. In late 1967, in a single day, as many as 80 SAMs were fired at our air wings over Haiphong. We lost aircraft and aircrewmen—and several hundred of the finest men in the world are now in prison in Hanoi.
"But in all that time, the morale of our aircrewmen never wavered. There was never any doubt in anyone’s mind but that we could continue to dish it out—and take it—as long as necessary.
"If there were ever a force—a fleet that came to stay—this is it.
"The fact is that we hit North Vietnam so hard during the fall of 1967—and during the first few months of 1968 with A-6s—that Hanoi decided they had better go to the conference at Paris and see what relief—and concessions—they could win by negotiation.
"I am certain that the United States has never fought a war in which our young men have been as courageous—as competent—as they have in this one.”
*This essay was requested and written before the author was returned to the Board of Control of the Naval Institute.
1. In July 1950 the Maddox was among the ships screening the carriers which made the first naval air strike in the Korean War.
2. It is an interesting but futile exercise to speculate what the American public reaction might have been if one of these torpedoes had hit. Would another Pearl Harbor reaction have resulted?
3. Actually, a few A-ls had been launched, but they were circling over the carriers. The majority of the strike aircraft were still in the process of getting ready to take off.
4. On 7 August, Secretary McNamara issued a press release which explained why the President’s announcement was made before the actual attack began. He said that he recommended that the President’s talk be given at 11:40 P.M. Washington time (approximately 45 minutes prior to take-off). "By that time, (about 1315 Tonkin Gulf time), he said, "U. S. naval aircraft had been in the air on their way to the targets about one hour.” He further explained that the North Vietnamese, by means of long range radar, "had then received indications of the attack. The time remaining (from announcement to attack) before the aircraft arrived over their targets would not permit the North Vietnamese to move their boats to sea or to alert their forces.” Unfortunately, Mr. McNamara’s explanation was in error.
5. CVW-5 had also been the first air wing to see action in the Korean War.
6. One A-4E from the Coral Sea, piloted by Lieutenant E. G. Hiebert of VA-155, diverted to Da Nang because of hung ordnance. Making a wheels-up landing, some of the hung ordnance fell off and started burning. Lieutenant Hiebert managed to clear the burning aircraft safely and uninjured, but the main runway was closed for a few hours because of the damage.
7. It is believed that this name was chosen since it lay off northern South Vietnam, and because of an earlier joint operation with the Air Force known as Operation Yankee Team which, as early as 1964, had conducted reconnaissance flights over Communist infiltration routes into South Vietnam.
8. Late in 1964 and early in 1965, the Ranger spent 117 days out of 125 underway, with one stretch of 70 days continuously at sea. In 1965, the Coral Sea spent eight of ten and one-half months at Yankee Station.
9. This name was originated by Captain A. B. Grimes, U. S. Navy, then on duty in Reconnaissance Center, Pentagon.
10. A revealing article in the Hanoi Newspaper, Nham San, appeared on 24 July 1966 describing how the SAM batteries moved: "With our sand roads and narrow bridges," the article said, "our heavy [missile] equipment must be handled with utmost care. A loose radio tube or an open wire is enough to make our missiles inaccurate . . . our engineering troops have stayed up many nights on end to build bridges across rivers for the missile sites to move. The local people have helped by collecting bamboo and straw that they spread out on the roads in order to ease the transportation of the equipment and not disturb the machinery."
11. In his book, Confirm or Deny (Harper & Rowe, 1970), Phil G. Goulding states on page 178 that the 37-day bombing pause was initiated by Secretary McNamara.
12. The record number of combat missions for the war in Southeast Asia was 306, flown by Commander Samuel R. Chessman, XO and later CO of VA-195. On one of the early Alfa strikes in the Iron Triangle, Commander Chessman ripped the slats off his A-4 in a negative "G” maneuver to avoid one of 20 SAMS fired at CVW-19 that day.
The second highest was 304, flown by Commander Charles E. Hathaway. Commander Hathaway was shot down on his 281st combat mission but managed to reach the safety of the Gulf of Tonkin before ejecting.
13. The A-6 strike discussed on these pages brought many a chuckle on the stateside Intruder community. The 20 April Radio Hanoi newscast carried a tirade against "U.S. Escalation" claiming that the U.S. Air Force was now sending 8-52 strikes into the north. As "proof" of this, the North Vietnamese cited the "strato-fortress" attack against the Uong Bi thermal power plant on 18 April, a raid that was, in fact, executed by these two A-6 Intruders.
14. April also saw a change in location of Yankee Station. It was moved deeper into the Gulf of Tonkin, thereby providing shorter runs to targets in North Vietnam.
15. Commander Thomas was later killed on Black Friday, 13 August 1965, during the SAM hunt described on page 76.
16. Commander Leue became Commanding Officer of VA-153 in July 1966 aboard the Constellation. Flying the relatively short range and short endurance A-4Cs, Commander Leue's squadron as a routine practice took on additional fuel the air at night in order to be able to spend more time in high fuel consumption, low altitude, operations hunting trucks under flares.
17. "Fast as a bastard.”
18. Rear Admiral Richardson credits the development of this plan to his Operations Officer, Captain Robert F. Hunt.
19. Early in 1966, photography of Thanh Hoa and its nearby railroad yard showed that both spur and through tracks were built through the city, along streets and under the shelter of trees, to take advantage of the sanctuary provided by being in an inhabited town area.
20. As a matter of fact, in 1965 both CinCPac and CinCPacFlt had repeatedly recommended an anti-POL campaign.
21. Commander Foster later received a prosthetic arm and, after a 14 administrative battle, was continued on active duty.
22. The North Vietnamese Navy also reacted to the POL attacks near Haiphong. On the afternoon of July 1st, three P-6 type PT boats ventured out to attack the Coontz (DLG-9) and Rogers (DD-876) at North SAR station, some 55 miles southeast of Haiphong. The PTs were sighted at 1630 by two F-4s from the Constellation (flown by Lieutenant Commander Sven Nelson and Lieutenant Fred Miller, Lieutenant (j.g.) Gerry Goerlitz and Lieutenant (j.g.) Bob Robinson). They were picked up by the Coontz’ radar five minutes later. By 1637 they were taken under attack by two A-6s from the Constellation flown by Lieutenant Commander Nels Gillette. Pilots from VA-153, VA-155, VF-151, and VF-161 also attacked. One boat sank and, at the ridiculous range of 12 miles, the remaining two launched their torpedoes and headed for home. Thirteen minutes later, planes from the Hancock and Constellation sank them both. The Coontz, Rogers, and King (DLG-10) picked up the first North Vietnamese Navy prisoners of the war, nineteen in all, including one of the commanding officers.
23. A review of the American press reports of the early months of the war reveals a great amount of speculation about American hesitation to go after the North Vietnam POL system. "It is my personal opinion,” said Vice Admiral Edwin B. Hooper, "that this discussion by the press contributed to the prolonged warning the North Vietnamese received during which they dispersed and protected their POL supplies.”
24. At the beginning of 1967, there were 104 important military targets in the northeast, but only 20 of these had been hit in 1966. By October 1967, 242 fixed targets in North Vietnam had been designated, but only 159 of these had been authorized and attacked.
25. On pages 174-177 of Confirm or Deny, Mr. Phil G. Goulding reveals that long before this July 1967 briefing—in fact, as early as September 1966—Secretary McNamara expressed the belief that the air bombing of North Vietnam could not stop the flow of men and material or break their will. In the spring and summer of 1967 (just prior to the briefing described above) Goulding says that Secretary McNamara had decided to recommend deescalation and restricting the bombing to the southern part of North Vietnam. It should be noted, however, that the bombing cutback did not come until 31 March 1968, eight months later.
26. For further details, see Goulding's Confirm or Deny, pp. 139-150.
27. Reference in reports and dispatches by the acronym WBLC, while the pilots began to speak of them as "Wiblicks."
28. This was Lieutenant Commander Verich's second time to be shot down. A year earlier flying from the Oriskany he had also been bagged by the enemy.
29. A year earlier, a sharp-eyed photo interpreter aboard the Constellation had spotted several cleverly concealed patrol boats while reviewing reconnaissance films. The torpedo craft were moored alongside the "karst” islands between Hon Gai and Cam Pha, hidden under camouflage netting.
On 7 July 1966, two strike groups were launched in search of these boats. Commander David E. Leue, CO of VA-153, and leader of the A-4 attack element, discovered four of the hidden boats. Despite heavy AAA fire, Commander Leue scored a direct bomb hit on one of the boats and proceeded to vector the other element of attack aircraft into the area. Two of the boats were sunk and two others damaged. These losses effectively took the stomach out of the North Vietnamese for attempting any more sneak raids on the U. S. Navy in the Gulf of Tonkin.
