The Tet Offensive began at the end of January 1968. It was really something. During the night we had an attack that hit the flare locker. The base was all lit up by the flares and there was firing everywhere. I really don’t know what happened, but someone said that they saw three hundred bodies in a pile on a corner in town. Another person said that an Air Force pilot was receiving machine gun fire as he taxied in from landing. For security purposes, we immediately lost all the waitresses in the mess hall and people who were working in the PX were no longer allowed in the gate. It really put a damper on all activities for about a month. Even our mamasans weren’t allowed in and that meant we had to make our own beds.
About three days later they brought in artillery and put them outside the fence across from our huts. It was one loud bang after another all night long. If we landed after midnight, we were forced to go to Thailand and de-brief then return to Da Nang after daylight. The reason was that they didn’t want to lose any more aircraft. We had two planes that were hit and burned in the initial attack. We brought in two more planes from the Philippines, and I supposed we could keep doing that. It took about a month before we got our waitresses back in the mess hall and club. And, best of all, our mamasans came back to the huts.
Soon it was February 18th which was my real glory day. On the night of the 17th, I was in the back of our hut with a couple of guys when someone came in and said, “Guess who has Phuc Yen tomorrow?” This was a Rolling Thunder target and one that you would have to be lucky to get in and out. Anyway, I had it and it really sent a cold chill up my spine. I went outside to think about my next mission. I thought about how I was going to get to my target and get back home. I didn’t have any answers, so I went to bed and still didn’t have any answers. I lay in bed for a long time before I went to sleep.
The next day I went to the briefing room where all the charts were, and I found that Phuc Yen was completely surrounded by anti-aircraft guns. Within four miles of the field, there were about 4000 guns of a size that could easily knock me down. Phuc Yen was a master MiG base, and they really protected it. MiGs were Russian planes the North Vietnamese used to combat American fighters and bombers during the Vietnam War. The base was about 20 miles northwest of Hanoi and I was sure that I wouldn’t be received too well up there. There was a 3000-foot mountain that ran from the north into Hanoi, so I decided to use that as my avenue of approach. I spent most of the day planning this target even though I could plan everything in an hour or less. There just wasn’t a good way to get to this target.
I decided to go up the western part of Vietnam and cut over to the mountain and come in that way. There was navigational gear located on a mountain in Laos and that would help me to know where I was all the time. I planned the route to cross North Vietnam in the middle of the country, go over to the border with Laos, go up to the northern part of the country, turn east to the mountain then go south into the target. A great plan if there wasn’t someone waiting there for me.
I spent the rest of the time that day just thinking about the mission and how it would be to become a POW. Everyone said something to me about Phuc Yen and some even asked how I was going in. They might be the ones who had to go there the next time, so I told them.
I went to a four o’clock briefing and I was told where all the guns were and where SAMS (surface-to-air missiles) might be. This information really made me feel good even though I already knew it. A pilot in an anti-radar plane was going to be 60 miles west of the target, but that would be no help to me. His plane was meant to jam the radar to keep the SAMS from being effective. After all this was covered, there was nothing to do but eat supper and kill the rest of the evening. I had a target time of about ten-thirty, so I would take off about 8:30.
I was relieved when the time finally came to take off. I climbed out and away from Da Nang and proceeded up the China Sea to the point where I had to turn in to cross North Vietnam. It was a nice night but there was a milky mist in the sky, and I really couldn’t see too much, but I did see the sea and shore. When I turned and crossed the beach, my B/N Jack said, “I think that I’m going to wet my pants.” I commented that he had better wait for we had almost three hours to go. We went on and I don’t know whether Jack’s pants were wet or not. Upon reaching the western border, I turned to the north. I tuned in to the navigational aid, and it was working great, so I figured that was good. After flying about one hundred miles to the north, I turned to the east. Everything was going well, and it looked like everyone must be asleep in North Vietnam.
There was a large town on my left as I turned to the east and it appeared to be sleeping too. I went east until I came to the mountain range and then I turned south to the target. I was flying at 4000 feet, and I wasn’t very far south when all hell broke loose. I saw one SAM launch and I watched it go past me to the rear and explode. A second one went under me and exploded off my left wing. I turned the plane back on course and the next SAM was coming right at me. I thought that it might be a good idea to keep an eye on it, so I banked to the right. I continued to keep it in sight, and it got brighter as it came at me. Finally, it passed right under me by about 10 or 20 feet. It sounded like a freight train and was close enough that it rocked the airplane before continuing out to my right and exploding.
“My name is not on the Wall!”
I continued to the target with two more SAMS fired at me, going behind the plane and exploding. I turned the plane back on course to the target and dropped bombs from the plane. I turned the plane back the same way I had come in and proceeded out to go home. I didn’t have enough fuel to make it home, so I had been briefed that an Air Force tanker was on station. I didn’t want to go to Thailand and land, I wanted to go home this time. I tuned in the radio frequency that I had been briefed on but first heard someone say “The MiGs are launching” from an airport that was about forty miles northeast of Hanoi. I continued north and turned to the west, but I had the throttles pushed as far forward as they would go. This was a calamity that I hadn’t planned on. I figured that I was about fifty miles away from the MiGs so my only chance was to go as fast as I could. As I approached the large town, I saw tracer fire above the town. I didn’t realize that they were shooting at me, and I had no plans to go anywhere near that town. I don’t know where the MiGs went or whether there were even any MiGs, but I forgot about them and throttled back. You were only allowed full throttle for thirty minutes and I had long since passed that time. I called the tanker and guided into him by his radio. He was over western North Vietnam and Laos, so I got in position and took on the fuel. Then I unhooked and returned to Da Nang. I pushed the throttles up a little and returned home shortly after midnight. We reported the plane as being up and ready for the next flight. I went to debriefing and told them about the flight and then went to my hut and went to bed.
I was really feeling high and couldn’t go to sleep. When I finally did fall asleep, it seemed as if I had just gone to sleep but it was 7:30 when someone from the maintenance department woke me up and said that I had upped the plane, but it had eight holes in it. I didn’t argue with him and signed the yellow sheet which contained the information about the eight holes.
“My name is not on the Wall!”
I walked around like a zombie for the next few days. I felt great because I was still alive, and I asked the flight surgeon to give me a down slip which he did. I just walked around for three days then I went back to the regular routine.
