Flying the F-4 Phantom in Combat

Everyone who has been to war has stories they retain for the remainder of their lives.  Some are told; others are just ‘filed away’ in a forgotten part of our mind, maybe to be awakened by a reminder.  Some are tragic; some funny; some ironic.  A friend sent me an e-mail last week with a website called “The Virtual Wall” where more than 58 thousand names of Vietnam casualties are cataloged.  I looked up a couple of names I recall and they reminded me of some “war stories” from long ago.

One name was Captain Tom Amos.  On Saturday, April 1, 1972, the phone rang at an early hour in the upstairs dayroom of the ‘Few Q,’ the modulux dorm that housed the 35th Tactical Fighter Squadron Panthers.  Nearly all the Panthers were sound asleep, hung over from a ‘wild and crazy’ party on Friday night.  The fellow who wasn’t hung over was Tom Amos who had just arrived at Kunsan AB, South Korea the day before.

Tom answered the phone and a voice on the other end said, ‘This is the command post.  Wake everyone in your building and have them report to squadron operations in 30 minutes.  This is a silent recall.’

So Tom Amos walks through the building, opening doors (we never locked anything) and informing everyone within earshot of the message.  Now picture this scenario: it’s April Fool’s Day about 5 in the morning; you’re hung over; a stranger just opened your door and said something about a silent recall.  Would you buy this or conclude it was a prank from the neighboring squadron, roll over and go back to sleep?

When no one showed for the recall, the Director of Operations Colonel Tyler G. Goodman stormed into the Few Q and the recall wasn’t silent anymore.  My squadron mates told me (I was off-station in Seoul that weekend and sober as a judge) that his greeting was both loud and traumatic.

The gist of the silent recall was that two days prior, the North Vietnamese had launched their largest ground invasion yet, and the 35th was executing Operation Commando Fly to augment Air Force fighter units in Southeast Asia.  No one I knew of had ever heard of Commando Fly before that morning.

Two weeks or so later, I’m at DaNang Airbase temporarily assigned to the 421st Black Widows along with Tom Amos as fill-ins to replace combat losses.  After a week of hard flying, I’m DNIF (duty not to include flying) for a couple of days and assigned as night duty hog, running the Ops desk at the squadron.  One of my jobs is to check the sign out log which was our method in combat of filing a flight plan.  I notice that Larry “Howdy Doody” Trimble and Mase Burham didn’t sign out when they went to fly.

When Trimble and Burnham return from their mission to sign in, I inform them of their infraction and the penalty – one case of beer for the squadron bar.  This was not a major financial setback since beer cost 10 cents a can in the war zone.  Major whining ensues.  Then Trimble’s light bulb goes off: “Hey Joe, is there any rule that we can’t drink the beer we just bought?”

My cogent reply: “No, but you’ve got two strikes against you.  First, its 7:30 in the morning and second, no way you two are going to down a case of beer.”

Trimble thinks this over for a moment and comes back: “Well, we’re coming off duty so we can start drinking, and three can drink more beer than two.  When’s your shift over?”  “In 30 minutes,” I reply.  “Great says Howdy; Mase and I will get a head start and you can join us when your relief shows up.”

A half hour later, I’m sitting on a bar stool joining my friends for a Budweiser breakfast.  We started strong but gave up after consuming about half the case.  Yawns were followed by heavy slumber.

I realize that these war stories might damage my reputation with my tee-totaling friends.  I would offer in defense that it was a long time ago; I was young; it was war; yada, yada, yada.

Within a week, all three of these fellows were dead.  Larry Trimble’s jet was hit by a SAM over Dong Hoi, North Vietnam.  His backseater was able to eject, survive, captured, and repatriation a year later, but Larry was not so fortunate.  Tom Amos and Mason Burnham were killed during a night bombing mission over Laos.  Their bombs hit the target, followed immediately by a fireball at 12 o’clock.  Our maps for this area were very inaccurate, especially the heights of the surrounding mountains.  Also, it was very easy to become disoriented during night dive-bombing.  It could happen to anyone.

I never had the opportunity to fly with any of these fellows in the short three weeks I knew them.  They were each considered to be excellent aviators.  So there you have a couple of stories from long ago, containing humor, irony and tragedy.  So goes war.

In the military section of the Treasures of Madison County Museum is a group photograph around an F-4D Phantom II. The picture was taken in May 1972 at DaNang Air Base, South Vietnam. About twenty members of the 35th Tactical Fighter Squadron “Panthers” are included in the photo including yours truly. In the cockpit of the jet is the squadron commander, Lt. Col. Lyle L. Beckers.

Lyle recently died at the age of 81 in Gainesville, Georgia from the effects of Alzheimer’s. Four decades ago, we knew him by his moniker “Sky King” as a fearless fighter pilot leader. Where did that name come from? Some of you might recall the children’s television adventure Sky King from the 1950s.

I served under a variety of fighter squadron commanders in Korea, Vietnam, England, and Germany as well as a couple stateside. Some were better than others, but as a whole, they were fine leaders and taught me a great deal. Lyle Beckers stands out though. He was a highly experienced fighter pilot in both the F-100 Super Sabre as well as the F-4 Phantom. He was also a graduate of the Fighter Weapons School, literally graduate school for “jet jockeys.”

I arrived at Kunsan Air Base, South Korea in mid-March 1972 for my first duty assignment out of flight training. I spent the next couple of weeks in-processing, and before I knew which way was up, my squadron was sent south to the war in Southeast Asia. What prompted this sudden change of course was the North Vietnamese had launched their Easter Offensive on March 29 with 200 thousand invading troops. The only way to halt this invasion was with air power. We were the first outside unit to respond; many more would follow.

Initially, our people and jets were split between two bases, DaNang in South Vietnam and Ubon in Thailand. We filled in to replace combat losses but before long, the squadron was reunited at DaNang under our own flag. The two lieutenant colonels in the 35th were the commander, Lyle Beckers, and operations officer Bill Mickelson. They were both experienced fighter pilots with previous combat tours and complimented each other well. Beckers was the leader while Mickelson was the ‘people person.’

Lyle Beckers led the toughest missions. In mid-May, Operation Linebacker began and we regularly flew high risk missions into the industrial heartland of North Vietnam. I can never recall a Linebacker mission where Beckers was not the flight lead of our first 4-ship. He led from the front. Frequently, I was on his wing in another jet, usually the number four aircraft. His decision making was precise and flawless.

Do you recall a couple of years ago when some official in the Obama Administration said that the United States was leading the coalition against Libya “from behind?” Lyle Beckers wouldn’t understand that; it wouldn’t compute. A leader is in front and never asks his troops to do anything he isn’t willing to do himself. That was Lyle Beckers’ style of leadership and we all looked up to him.

Most of our missions into North Vietnam were air-to-air missions meaning we were there to protect the strike flights from MiG attacks. On May 23rd, Beckers was leading our squadron when the flight was jumped by MiGs. He used an AIM-7 Sparrow missile to shoot down a MiG-19. The number 3 aircraft shot down a MiG-21 with the 20mm canon. Number 2 registered a probable kill with an AIM-9 Sidewinder missile. Altogether, a very successful mission.

Three months later in September, Beckers registered his second MiG kill, this time against a MiG-21 using an AIM-9 and the gun. MiG kills in the Vietnam War were infrequent and hard to come by. Only a handful of pilots registered more than one kill. Lyle Beckers was one of the few who did.

Colonel Beckers was an imposing fellow, probably taller than 6’1”, and he was possessed with all-American looks. It pains me to think of a strong leader felled by Alzheimer’s, but he is well now and at peace. Let us pray: “Father of all, we pray to you for Lyle, and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest. Let light perpetual shine upon them. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.”

Read “The Tale of Gator 3” about an F-4 mission lead by Colonel Beckers.