“The three of us took off reasonably close together,” Martin continued. “I remember a strange incident just as we were crossing the border into East Germany. We were not yet at our cruising altitude, still climbing to 35,000 feet. The night was pitch black. We had no lights on anywhere. Major Anderson said to the copilot, ‘Did you see that? The plane going to the west.’ There was a plane heading west as we were going east, pretty close to our altitude. His lights were out just like ours. I flew with my radar on for the entire mission. That was my primary means of navigation. I believe one of the things the Intelligence people were trying to do at the time, other than taking radar scope photography of assigned targets, was to find out what the Russians would do in the way of identifying and stopping us. I think it was important to find out if they would launch night fighters and what radars they would turn on to locate us. It was a coordinated effort to find out everything they had and could do. It was a dark night, and we didn’t see any reaction other than the one airplane that passed us early in the flight. The same was true for the other crews; they encountered no hostile reaction from the Russians. Upon landing, we were met at the airplane by Intelligence personnel, who took the radar film and every scrap of paper we had in our bags.”
In addition to the aircrew members already mentioned, Major Jessie B. Sutton, the squadron senior navigator, participated in this daring overflight of the Soviet Union, as did Lieutenants Robert S. Hedstrom, Wilbur V. Stephens and Kenneth G. Yerk. Sergeants Marvin N. Highsmith and Mercer E. Garrison were the other two gunners. On April 17, 1956, on General Order 22, the Department of the Air Force awarded each crew member the Distinguished Flying Cross for extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight. Like the RAF missions flown in 1952 and 1954, the three RB-45Cs from the 19th TRS did have an aerial refueling just prior to entry into Soviet-controlled airspace. Anderson’s aircraft, flying the longer southern route, had to recover at Fürstenfeldbruck Air Base near Munich and return to Sculthorpe the following day. Anderson’s flight was the last time such mass reconnaissance flights were flown into the western USSR. Frank Martin’s last flight in the RB-45 was on June 28, 1957. “It was a cool airplane. I liked the B-45,” Frank told me when I interviewed him on his chicken farm on the eastern shore of Maryland. Before returning to the United States in May 1958, Frank transitioned into the new RB-66, which replaced the RB-45 in the TAC inventory. All B-45 aircraft versions were replaced by B/RB-66s, and those not flown back to the United States were parceled out to American air bases in Europe to be used for firefighting practice, a fate that saddened many an airman who had flown the B/RB-45. Frank was reassigned to the Strategic Air Command, flying as a radar navigator on the B-52 bomber in the early days of the Vietnam War. He and his wife retired to the Delmarva Peninsula in Maryland, near Salisbury—to raise chickens, of course.
Colonel Mixson, commander, 55th SRW, Forbes Air Force Base, Kansas, presenting Captain Wolfgang Samuel with his first Air Medal, January 1964. The 55th SRW in 1964 was flying the RB-47H/K, the ERB-47H, and several modified B-47E bombers, Tell Two, which monitored Russian missile launches.
Colonel Marion C. “Hack” Mixson continued to serve for many years in the secret world of strategic reconnaissance, commanding an RB-45C squadron, then converting to the newer RB-47. In 1955, Mixson transferred to a super-secret reconnaissance program run by the CIA, piloting Kelly Johnson’s high-flying U-2. Mixson was involved in nearly every aspect of that program, from getting the U-2 operational, to hiring the aircrews, to flying them out of various locations in Germany, Japan, Thailand, and Pakistan. After five years of being constantly on the move with the U-2 program, he assumed command of SAC’s 55th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing, in which he had once served as a young major flying converted C-47 and B-17 aircraft. The 55th still operated out of Forbes Air Force Base in Kansas, as the unit did when it deactivated in 1949, but by this time it flew highly capable RB-47H electronic reconnaissance jets. I served under Colonel Mixson when assigned to the 343rd SRS, his former squadron, when he was the 55th Wing commander, and he pinned on my first Air Medal after a successful overseas deployment. Colonel Mixson retired from the air force while commanding officer of the 100th SRW, a U-2 wing, at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base near Tucson, Arizona. He settled in Tampa, Florida, not too far from MacDill Air Force Base, where I interviewed him. As for so many of his generation, Mixson went from the little 45-horsepower Aeronca via the B-24, RB-45, and RB-47 to the U-2 spy plane. “I loved every minute of it,” Mixson said to me, “and every airplane I ever flew.” His favorite airplane though, his wife confided to me, was the RB-45C.
THE INCREDIBLE RF-86F SABRE JET (1952–1955)
The Dayton Daily News reported a mysterious explosion one afternoon in the spring of 1950. A young project engineer outside Dayton was recording F-86 dive tests. He read the article and remembered recording a dive at that time. The next day the same thing happened. The sonic boom was unknown at the time. The F-86 was not believed to have exceeded the speed of sound, but the Mach meter always hung up at 96%. We reported this phenomenon to higher authorities, and all hell broke loose. Everyone tried to schedule an F-86 flight to “boom” Wright Field. General [Benjamin Wiley] Chidlaw called me, “Another boom and you are fired.” Just then another loud one occurred, and the good general said, “Oh—!” and hung up.
—Bob Shaefer, in Kenneth Chilstrom and Penn Leary, Test Flying at Old Wright Field
Aerial reconnaissance during the Korean War years really came into its own. Although RB-29 and RB-50 aircraft continued to fly the Sea of Japan, they were slow, and very vulnerable to the Russian’s latest jet fighter, the MiG-15. The RF-80, although a jet aircraft, was no match for the MiG-15, but the United States had an ace up its sleeve, the F-86 Sabre Jet, which soon would make its mark over the Yalu River and produce a slew of American fighter aces. It turned out, with a few modifications, that the F-86 made one heck of a good reconnaissance aircraft. Demands for intelligence increased after Communist China entered the war in November 1950, resulting in the activation of the 67th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing on February 25, 1951, under the command of veteran World War II reconnaissance pilot Colonel Karl L. “Pop” Polifka. Polifka, who flew 145 combat reconnaissance missions in World War II, and who was the holder of the Distinguished Service Cross, was shot down by ground fire on July 1, 1951, flying one of his RF-51s. Pop did not survive. The 67th was stood up with three squadrons—the 12th, 15th, and the 45th. The 12th TRS flew all the night missions in RB-26 aircraft, and the 45th flew daytime missions in RF-51 and RF-80 aircraft. Only the 15th TRS was equipped from the start with the RF-80. The appearance of the MiG-15 jet fighter made unarmed RF-80 flights near the Yalu River extremely hazardous. So, in early 1951, the commander of the 15th TRS pushed for the installation of reconnaissance cameras in the F-86. In spite of some initial opposition at FEAF headquarters, Far East Command personnel installed cameras in six F-86A fighters at Tachikawa Air Base. They had cameras installed but retained four of their six 50-caliber machine guns. There was no wing modification, so they could carry only the usual two 120-gallon drop tanks. These six depot-modified aircraft were officially referred to as Ashtray aircraft, but the pilots came up with a more colorful name, Honey Bucket. Honey Buckets were a beginning.
Air Force Chief of Staff General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, on a visit in December 1951, found the Ashtray/Honey Bucket project interesting, and soon after his visit North American Aviation came up with six modification kits for the F-86 aircraft, relieving some but not all of the shortcomings of the Honey Bucket camera installation. The RF-86 Ashtray/Honey Bucket aircraft and the RF-80 continued to share missions near MiG Alley along the Yalu River, and the highly classified overflights of Communist Chinese and Russian airfields. In early 1953, the 15th TRS finally received four brand-new RF-86 aircraft, which would be referred to as RF-86F-30s, featuring a hardened wing that allowed the installation of four drop tanks, two 120-gallon tanks, and two 200-gallon tanks, extending the ra
nge of the aircraft significantly. It also lengthened the wings by six inches and extended the wing root by three inches. The -30s still carried the same camera suite as the Ashtray aircraft. The final modification, called Haymaker, was made at Tachikawa Air Base in 1953, replacing the camera suite and resulting in the removal of all the guns. The Haymaker represented a new aircraft type, and under the terms of the Korean armistice of July 1953, it could not be stationed in-country. So the RF-86Fs were moved to Komaki Air Base, Japan.
“Captain LaVerne Griffin, our operations officer, had me develop operational data on the new aircraft to determine the best drop tank configuration, speed, and altitude for flying maximum-range reconnaissance missions in the new ‘hard-wing’ RF-86Fs. At the time I was serving as assistant operations officer and A-flight commander. Our squadron commander was a major, while the rest of us were first and second lieutenants. The basic F-86 flight handbook was useless for our purposes. We knew that maximum thrust was obtained in the RF-86 at 690 degrees centigrade at full military power on takeoff. However, we wanted maximum speed at the highest possible altitude. From then on we estimated temperatures at altitudes above 40,000 feet, and placed a number of ‘rats and mice,’ small pieces of titanium, in the tail pipes to ensure achieving a 690 degree centigrade EGT, exhaust gas temperature, at full military power at 40,000 feet. Our technical representative assured us that maintaining full military power would not have a negative effect on engine performance on any given flight—but it would drastically reduce engine life. That was the answer we wanted to hear. We then planned our missions for maximum thrust throughout the entire flight envelope,” recalls Colonel Samuel T. Dickens, then a young captain, at the 2001 Early Cold War Overflights Symposium. “We wanted maximum speed and maximum altitude to avoid interception by Soviet and Chinese MiGs.
The “Wild Bunch” 15th TRS pilots in front of their tents at Komaki Air Base, Japan, March 1954.
“In the early overflights we retained the 120-gallon drop tanks throughout the mission, as they did not significantly affect the performance of the RF-86F. Later on, as the top-secret overflight missions continued, the tanks were jettisoned when empty and the aircraft was flown clean up to 50,000 feet, at times even a bit higher. Though a placard limited flying the aircraft to Mach 0.90, we found that at full military power above 40,000 feet the aircraft reached and maintained Mach 0.92 with ease. Since fuel was of such consequence to us, we had the aircraft towed out to the flight line and started the engine at the end of the runway. The mounting of twin 40-inch focal length cameras in the aircraft, with all six 50-caliber guns removed, required aircraft modifications to fit the camera magazines, resulted in a bulge on either side of the aircraft. Heavy lead panels were also added as ballast to provide the proper center of gravity.
“Late on March 21, 1954, less than three weeks after deploying to Komaki, we flew our six RF-86Fs to Osan, South Korea, where immediately they were moved into hangars to keep them from the roving eyes of United Nations inspectors. The next morning, we started engines at the end of the runway and prepared to take off. Six RF-86Fs. The pilots of the first 15th TRS top-secret overflight mission, after the signing of the armistice, were Major George H. Saylor, our squadron commander; Captain LaVerne H. Griffin, the operations officer; and First Lieutenants Bill Bissett and Larry Garrison. My wingman, Lieutenant Peter Garrison, and I flew the two spare aircraft. We flew easterly from Osan for about seventy miles, then turned onto a northerly heading at about 25,000 feet. The primary four aircraft dropped their 200-gallon outboard tanks cleanly. No need for a spare, so Pete Garrison and I turned around and flew back to Komaki.
April 3, 1954, RF-86F overflights of Vladivostok by Samuel Dickens, returning to Misawa Air Base.
“The overflight of the Vladivostok area was successful. Upon seeing the photographs of the various airfields, General Otto P. Weyland, commander of the Far East Air Forces, immediately called the four pilots to Tokyo and personally pinned Distinguished Flying Crosses on their chests, saying, ‘The paperwork will follow.’ This successful overflight whetted the appetite of the Intelligence community, right up the chain of command to the Pentagon and the White House. New orders arrived, and on April 2, 1954, we were to do it all over again—same route, same target, Vladivostok, but without any spare aircraft. Off we went to Osan and went through the same routine as before, hiding our aircraft in hangars. The next day, April 3, I was flying as wingman for LaVerne Griffin, our operations officer, and Larry Garrison flew wing for Major George H. Saylor, our squadron commander. We climbed up to 42,000 feet after dropping our 200-gallon drop tanks. We maintained radio silence and had no visual contact with land. It was a beautiful day and visibility was outstanding. We were flying at full military power, maintaining our 690-degree tail pipe temperature and pushing Mach 0.92. At last we picked up landfall and realized we had to make a slight adjustment of our heading to the left to come over the first of our several targets, from Vladivostok north. Our cameras were working perfectly, taking photographs of TU-4 bombers on various airfields. It’s easy to remember that day, not only for the thrill of taking photographs over Vladivostok on a beautiful day but also because our new aircraft with the new engines performed perfectly. It was always a joy to fly the Sabre.”
Captain Larry Garrison, Larry retired from the air force in 1987 in the rank of major general, recalls that mission flying over Vladivostok. “We flew all four aircraft over the targets; however, we split up as we approached the target area and rejoined Griffin and Dickens on the way out. The CO, commanding officer, and I cut short our flight over Vladivostok due to contrails, but we did get good photos. Grif got the best pictures, though. Just prior to flying this mission, Captain Griffin, our operations officer, took me aside. Said he, ‘I have two things to tell you Larry. One—keep your eyes open for MiGs because if they come after us they will likely go for Blue 4 first.’ Since I was Blue 4, I listened closely to what he had to say. ‘Two—for Ch––t sake, don’t let the CO get lost!’” Continued Sam Dickens, “When it was clear that we did not have intercepting MiGs on our tails, Grif led all four of us into a descent into Misawa, rocking his wings.
“This was my only top-secret overflight mission, and soon thereafter I headed home to Shaw Air Force Base in South Carolina. No RF-86s were ever lost to enemy action. Our photography revealed not only the extensive bomber buildup around Vladivostok but also the deployment of MiG-17 fighters east of the Urals. Years later I learned that the FEAF commander was authorized to task missions north of the Yalu River to gain photographic intelligence in China during the Korean War years. Following the truce, however, authority for such missions was withdrawn and reverted back to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, with final approval by President Eisenhower.
“The top-secret overflight missions continued after my departure from Komaki for another year by the 15th TRS. During this period, at least one mission was flown over the Soviet-held Kurile Islands, photographing submarine pens. Another was a deep penetration to Khabarovsk on the Amur River. Numerous missions were flown over the Peoples Republic of China, PRC, and North Korea. Missions were staged out of South Korea; others were staged from Japan, including Okinawa. With the end of the Cold War and the declassification of these top-secret overflights, RF-86 pilots gathered in September 1999 in Arlington, Virginia. For the first time some twenty-five pilots told their stories of overflying the PRC, the Soviet Union, and North Korea from 1952 to 1955. Historians at the National Reconnaissance Office retrieved some of the 15th TRS overflight imagery from the Defense Intelligence Agency, had them declassified and posted on bulletin boards for all to see. Since such overflights were never discussed, pilots in the same squadron did not know what other missions had been flown.
Soviet TU-4s, copies of B-29s, parked on hardstands at Spassk-Dalniy East Airfield north of Vladivostok; below, a closer look at some of the aircraft.
Lieutenant George Best being readied for takeoff by his crew chief at Komaki Air Base, Japan, March 1955. Note the fi
lm magazine bulge the crew chief is leaning on—an identifying feature of the RF-86F-30.
“One of the RF-86 pilots told us of a bar encounter that took place in Japan in 1955, a conversation he had with an F-84 pilot also based at Komaki. The fighter bomber’s mission was also top secret, because in the event of war his squadron had been assigned the mission of dropping tactical nuclear weapons on targets in the Vladivostok area. Confided the F-84 pilot, ‘I know what you guys do because my target folder contains a photograph of my target with the words “15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron” at the top of the print.’ The RF-86 pilot supposedly smiled and said nothing. It was nice to hear that his product had been put to good use.” Samuel T. Dickens retired as a colonel and was a participant in the February 2001 Early Cold War Overflights Symposium sponsored by the National Reconnaissance Office and the Defense Intelligence Agency.
Major General Mele Vojvodich Jr. flew in the same squadron as Sam Dickens, although a bit earlier than Sam. “In 1950–1951 I was assigned to fly F-84s while assigned to the Strategic Air Command. I tried my best to get into the Korean War action. I kept volunteering for fighter quotas, but none came open. The first one that did was a reconnaissance quota, so I said to myself, ‘I don’t know anything about reconnaissance, but I think I’ll volunteer. At least I’ll get to the war.’ I ended up in a very short course at Shaw Air Force Base learning how to take pictures. I finally reached Korea in July 1952. The first thing I did when I arrived at Kimpo Air Base outside Seoul was to go over to the 4th Fighter Wing, even though I was assigned to the 67th TRW. I introduced myself to Colonel Harrison Thyng, the wing commander, and told him I wanted to fly fighters. He asked, ‘Why?’ I said, ‘I want to shoot down MiGs.’ He said, ‘Man, you are just the kind of guy we are looking for. I’ll work it.’ The transfer did not work out because Colonel Russell A. Berg, 67th Wing commander, blocked it. Robbie Riesner had just pulled a similar stunt. Went through Shaw, volunteered to fly fighters after arriving in South Korea, and ended up an ace. Berg was determined that was not going to happen again. So, I ended up in the 15th TRS, which turned out great.
Silent Warriors, Incredible Courage Page 9
