‘When we would RTB, we would invariably get ‘tapped’ by the Brits flying Hawker Hunters and English Electric Lightnings… in the traffic pattern,’ Tip Clark, former F-100 Super Sabre pilot
One of my favorite deployments—9/20/1969
Tip Clark
In recent talks between Tip Clark and Win Reither, the two reminisced about “the good old days,” and the question arose: which were their favorite TDYs over all those years? Among many favorites, one rather “stood out” to both of them: Gütersloh, Germany.
The year was 1969, and they were stationed at Torrejon Air Base, Spain—just outside of Madrid. They were assigned to the 613th Tactical Fighter Squadron, one of three Hun squadrons assigned to the 401st Tactical Fighter Wing. An interesting side note: the 401st was formed from three squadrons—the 613th from Alex AFB, Louisiana; the 307th from Homestead AFB, Florida; and the 353rd from Myrtle Beach AFB, South Carolina. The experience level across those three squadrons was remarkable. When Tip arrived at Torrejon and the 613th, he had just finished a one-year tour in Vietnam and, with about 500 hours in the F-100, was the low man on the totem pole in the squadron—until the first new lieutenant in many years arrived (Ron Chadwick, fresh out of pilot training). Then Chadwick held that distinction.
Back to the story: orders came down for the squadron to deploy six aircraft to Gütersloh, Germany, for an exercise. Gütersloh was a British Air Base. At the time, the details of the deployment were classified, so the account here sticks to just the fun stuff. The squadron was flying mostly two-ship flights to simulated targets around the local area. When returning to base, they would invariably get “tapped” by the Brits flying Hawker Hunters and English Electric Lightnings in the traffic pattern. The Brits would then show up at the O-Club with photos of the Americans in compromising positions. That got old fast, and Ops Officer Roger Billett had had enough. He ordered the maintenance crews to “clean the birds,” including the centerline pylon. The next day, the dynamic shifted entirely. Several “fur balls” broke out right over the runway, and the 613th pilots were able to hold their heads high at the bar from then on.
Another highlight was the little end-of-mission air shows over the base. One day, Dick Hardy was leading a two-ship, and just after the pitch-out, he and Win Reither rejoined on final approach and proceeded to execute a two-ship Immelmann over the field.
On a sadder note, during that TDY, Tip’s father passed away, and he needed to get back to Torrejon to catch a flight to the States for the funeral. The squadron didn’t blink an eye. Jerry Wetterling was sent to Gütersloh in a B model to pick Tip up and get him back to Spain in time. When Wetterling arrived, he simply asked whether Tip wanted the front or back seat for the ride back. They stuffed the hang-up bag in the travel pod, climbed in, and cranked the aircraft up. Wetterling had already filed the flight plan, and the base had been briefed on the situation. They taxied out, copied their clearance, and were cleared for takeoff. Tip requested a flyby, and the tower approved it. By all accounts, it was one of his best low-altitude rolls ever.
Chasing the Elusive British Lightning Win Reither
A fighter pilot walks into a bar. In this case, it was a bunch of them—a rowdy band of pilots, some American, some French, and some Brits. It was 1969, and seven F-100 pilots from the 613th TFS based at Torrejon had been sent to RAF Gütersloh in Northern Germany. The group included Bob Konopka, Tip Clark, Roger Billett, Dick Hardy, Dick Rung, Ron Chadwick, and Ron “Nape” Miller.
The RAF pilots were already stationed at the base, having been there since 1965. When the 613th arrived, two British Electric Mach 2 Lightning interceptors—the equivalent of the F-22 in 1969—were on alert, and two RAF Hunter Ground Attack Aircraft Squadrons were based there as part of the Quick Reaction Alert in defense of Berlin and northwest Germany. The Lightning had a service ceiling of 65,000 feet and had zoomed to 87,000 feet, making it the hottest jet around. While the British, German, and French F-100 pilots were all excellent, the Lightning pilots were at the “top of the pyramid.”
The French F-100 pilots arrived shortly after the Americans. In the early 1960s, one hundred US F-100Ds had been supplied to France and assigned to two French bases. Before American involvement in Vietnam, French Super Sabres had already flown many combat missions from bases within France against targets in Algeria.
The French presence at the base raised questions for U.S. pilots. In early 1966, French President Charles De Gaulle announced that France would withdraw from NATO’s integrated military structure, and the United States was informed it must remove its military forces from France by April 1, 1967. In retrospect, it appears the 613th TFS was tasked by the USAF—not NATO—to provide Close Air Support as part of a Joint Chiefs of Staff interest in keeping France in the Alliance.
A great camaraderie quickly developed among the French F-100 and British Lightning and Hunter pilots, with evenings spent drinking in the O-Club’s cellar and dining with British Army officers in the Officers’ Mess. The tower of the Officers’ Mess contained a room known as Göring’s Room. Legend has it that Hermann Göring used this room to relive his wartime exploits with a new generation of flyers. His expression of this was “If I should lie, may the beam above my head crack.” In response, a junior officer arranged for the beam to be sawn through and, by a system of pulleys, made to appear to crack on cue. An article in Flight magazine in 1946 recounts the same story with “an elderly station commander” in the Göring role. From interviews with Luftwaffe personnel of the period, it appears Göring visited the station before and during the war, and a photograph of the Reichmarschall while at Gütersloh was displayed in the Officers’ Mess.
The mission assigned to the group was to fly close air support and interdiction against simulated Soviet armor, alongside French and RAF pilots. Tip Clark and Win Reither, determined to be more competitive with the hotshot Lightning pilots at the top of the pyramid, convinced their maintenance team to remove the external tanks and all wing pylons—including the Nuclear Type 7 pylon—to improve thrust-to-weight performance and, not insignificantly, their social standing at the RAF Club after each day’s flying.
Reither recalls spotting Lightnings at over 40,000 feet and carefully selecting afterburner while pushing the nose down to avoid compressor stalls, feet knocked off the rudder pedals in the effort to gain any advantage. Most of the time, it worked, and time was on their side against the Lightning’s 20-minute endurance. It all added up to the most fun flying Reither could recall, even half a century later.
The pilots spent a fair amount of time flying and a fair amount of time drinking, having quickly discovered there was not much oversight of their activities. They were young, heady with the power of their aircraft, and believed themselves invincible. (Note: Roger Billett, Dick Rung, and Bob Konopka are RIP.)
Ron Chadwick
Memory being what it is, a few things still stand out from that deployment to Gütersloh. Word got out that some of the ground troops might appreciate a flyby, so the pilots obliged by buzzing a tank with a few crew members standing on the turret. The pass was perhaps a little low and a little fast—make that a lot fast—and the after-action report was that the crew was blown clean off the tank.
The Hawker Hunter pilots were a tight-knit outfit, as most fighter units are, and everyone was eager to put their best foot forward. On one particular flight, Win Reither was flight lead with Chadwick on his wing. They flew a very tight initial, and just before the break, two Hunters pulled up—one on each side—for a few seconds, then broke away. After landing and dropping off their gear, the two pilots walked into the debrief room to find an 8×10 glossy of Reither and Chadwick, taken just before the break. That’s what you call real service.
Almost everyone in the 613th remembered Dick “That’s Dog Shit, Ethel” Hardy, but almost all of them remembered his wife. She was, by all accounts, a great lady. Hardy had been an ATC instructor before checking out in the Hun, but he erased any trace of that background when he flew what had to be the most “shit hot” 7G closed pattern in the history of Hundom.
Chadwick was the “kid” of the 613th TFS—the first new lieutenant to arrive in over four and a half years. The 401st TFW had the highest average Hun time in the Air Force, over 1,700 hours, and instead of being sent directly to Vietnam out of F-100 training, Chadwick was assigned to Torrejon AB, Spain—a stroke of luck he had no way of appreciating at the time. He flew with some of the best the Air Force had to offer, doing his best to keep the light on the star and say “four.” That was over fifty years ago, and in Chadwick’s words, he never met a finer or more talented group of men in his life. He was only at Torrejon for twenty-two months, but those men became lifelong friends—and what they taught him, without a doubt, brought him home from Vietnam.
This article originally appeared on the Super Sabre Society website and features stories written by former F-100 pilots Tip Clark, Win Reither, and Ron Chadwick.
Photo by U.S. Air Force and Crown Copyright and Mike Freer – Touchdown-aviation via Wikipedia
