F-8 pilot Escorting Soviet Bombers
The relationship between the United States and the Soviet Union was tense during the Cold War years, and their military forces had many encounters in international airspace. Former F-8 Crusader pilot Dave Johnson describes intercepting Soviet bombers and other adventures in 1966-68.
I got my Wings of Gold as a Navy pilot in 1965 and joined my first squadron, VF-13, later that year. We deployed with the rest of Air Wing 8 aboard the USS Shangri-La (CVA-38) for 7½ months of ops in the North Atlantic and Mediterranean, typical for East Coast carriers at the time. As was also typical, we saw Soviet Bears when we were in the Atlantic and some Egyptian Badgers in the Med. Our standard response was to launch two fighters and one photo, or one of each. [Editor’s note: the fighters were F-8s and the photo was an RF-8.] The photo would close and take pix, one fighter would hang back in firing position, the other would close also. The close fighter’s job was to fly under the bomber if the bomb bay doors opened.
One day in the Atlantic, “Bear inbound!” was called, so we launched the duty fighters and the photo, plus a Tink tanker. [Ed.: A-4 Skyhawk with refueling package.] Bear came by, but as the photo was getting his pix, he reduced power alongside the Bear and his throttle disconnected. This left him insufficient power to maintain altitude. He radioed the boat, and boat says, “Return overhead, eject.” The Bear was obviously listening in, ‘cuz he turned away and disappeared over the horizon.
F-8 pilot Escorting Soviet Bombers and… a Tupolev Airliner
The photo pilot punches out overhead, drifts down, hits the water at about 2 miles at 5 o’clock of the boat. That RF-8 wasn’t done flying, though: it kept circling and descending. I was watching from the LSO platform and we thought it was going to hit the guy at one time. It finally hit the water, maybe half a mile from the guy who is now floating. Helo finally dares go fetch him. As soon as the helo calls inbound with him aboard, the Bear magically reappears. That’s when I took this pic. The Bear made another pass, then went home.
Here’s a Badger with one of our birds alongside. The only thing interesting about this one was the tailgunner waves to our guy to come closer. F-8 moves in, and the gunner holds up a Playboy centerfold.
One night I got one of those scrambles for what was thought to be a Bear or Badger. We were at a lower level of alert and I was in the rack. I jumped into my flight gear, pulled on my Wellingtons instead of the flight boots, ran up, and got shot off along with the alert bird from our sister squadron. Of course, we always called our sister squadron Brand X. Popping in and out of clouds, finally closed for a visual — a Tupolev airliner! So, we head back to the boat.
Instrument glitch at an inopportune time
Back when taxiing up to the cat, I had noticed that my turn and bank indicator didn’t indicate anything. It should’ve been a down gripe, but I ignored it as this seemed to be a pressing situation. And anyway it’s “just a backup instrument.” Off the cat, the VGI (my primary attitude indicator) starts bumping up and down 10 degrees or so. Oops, I might need that backup thing. But the VGI kept working, doing its glitch from time to time. I’m starting my radar-controlled approach, inbound dirty at 1,200 feet, and the warning light on radar altimeter flashes on. I had set it to go off at 600 feet.
I look over to see the needle heading down for zero. That goofed-up VGI flashed into my mind; my eyes got real big. I yanked back on the stick and cobbed the throttle all the way into burner. The burner lit just as the needle hit 0. Remember, the J57 burner was a hard light, makes a big bang and a big kick. I thought I may have impacted the water. Still flying though, altitude going up, so I unpuckered, called the ship for an altitude reading (was close enough they could do that on their approach radar). I was well above 1,200. No water contact, just another instrument glitch at an inopportune time. I completed my approach and trapped.
Inter-squadron rivalry
Anyway, I got back to the ready room, which by now was filling with gawkers. The skipper was there. He berated me for going with the bad turn and bank indicator, then noticed my boots and really got mad—”What if you had to eject?! Without those steel toes you might have lost some toes… Blah, blah, blah.”
I said, “Yessir, but I got to the cat before the Brand X guy did.” Instant cooldown. Apparently inter-squadron rivalry is more important than rules.
