MiG-21s were the only fighters the Communists had that could intercept at the B-52s’ altitude, and they were there, slashing in, trying to find and shoot down Buffs. American F-4s hunted the MiGs in the darkness. As the bombs plummeted down, smashing industrial and storage areas like the fist of God, B-52s were hit by SAMs and shot up by fighters. On fire, high in the night sky amid the stars, some bombers flamed fiercely as they broke up and fell. B-52 crews announced in laconic, weary voices that their planes had been fatally hit. The crewmen rode their ejection seats into the cold, thin air to fall over seven miles to earth, where they faced possible death and, if they survived that, certain captivity.
What a tableau it was in the clear night sky above the monsoon clouds. A million stars flung against the universe, fire trails of missiles rising and missiles descending and the occasional small gleam of flame against the stars as a B-52 was hit and began to burn. All while the trip-hammer flashes of exploding bombs strobed the clouds below. The men who saw it and lived carried that vivid scene of war aloft with them the rest of their days.
Despite the best efforts of the North Vietnamese, the B-52s came night after night.
In twelve nights the Buffs flew 729 sorties and dropped 15,237 tons of bombs, literally smashing the heart out of North Vietnam’s war capacity. Ten Buffs were shot down in North Vietnam, five crashed in Thailand or Laos, and others were damaged. Twelve tactical aircraft also were lost. Forty-three US airmen were killed in action and forty-nine parachuted into captivity. The United States claimed six MiG-21s destroyed in the campaign, including two by B-52 tail gunners. Oddly, the North Vietnamese said that three MiG-21s were destroyed by the big bombers’ quad .50-caliber tail guns. Hanoi claimed eighty-one Yankee aircraft shot down, including thirty-four Buffs and four F-111 Aardvarks.
American critics of the Vietnam War were outraged over the tightening of the military screw. Critics abroad were incensed. Even the prime minister of Australia, an American ally whose soldiers had fought for years in South Vietnam, squawked loudly, which soured US-Australian relations until that prime minister departed in 1975.
Regardless of the spin they would put on it a generation later for Vietnamese consumption, after twelve nights of relentless bombing, the Communists had reached their limit. The diplomats returned to the bargaining table in Paris and a ceasefire was set for January 27, 1973. A political accord was quickly reached, written, and signed. The Americans promised to get their troops out of South Vietnam within sixty days. This time President Thieu went along, persuaded by letters from Richard Nixon pledging American support if the North Vietnamese proved perfidious.
But Thieu should have known better. Almost every American who lived through those years knew the United States would not send troops back to Vietnam unless the Communists exploded a nuclear weapon on Los Angeles, and maybe not even then. In February 1973 the North Vietnamese released the American POWs, and the Chinese released their lone American, the Navy’s Robert J. Flynn, now a lieutenant commander.
With the troops home, in America the Watergate scandal became the national focus. President Nixon resigned on August 9, 1974. Vice President Gerald Ford took over the presidency.
In December of that year, ignoring all their promises and guarantees to the contrary, the North Vietnamese again invaded the south. Then they paused and waited to see what the Americans would do.
President Ford asked Congress to approve a $722 million aid package for South Vietnam, which the Nixon administration had promised; Congress by a wide margin flatly refused. Senator Jacob K. Javits echoed the mood of the nation when he said, “Large sums for evacuation, but not one nickel for military aid.” Congress gave the Communists a green light.7
The Communists had won the battle for American public opinion, or more accurately, the Kennedy-Johnson arguments for a conventional war in Vietnam had become obsolete. The world no longer looked the same as it did in the early years of the Kennedy administration when the Soviet Union and China seemed likely candidates for nuclear war with the United States and its allies.
The NVA military machine resumed its march southward. President Thieu resigned on April 21, 1975, blaming the fall of his nation on the treacherous Americans. Two days later President Ford made a speech at Tulane University in which he said that the Vietnam War was over “as far as America is concerned.”8
Despite Congress’s refusal of military aid, the Americans did mount the largest helicopter rescue operation in history and evacuated almost all US citizens and military personnel remaining in Saigon, along with tens of thousands of South Vietnamese civilians—about fifty thousand people altogether, mostly by C-141 Starlifters and C-130 Hercules. Saigon fell on April 30, 1975. Laos and Cambodia soon followed.9
The Communists renamed Saigon Ho Chi Minh City and consolidated the country under their rule, which had been their goal since the Japanese left in the closing days of World War II. Everywhere they went, the victorious Communists took bloody revenge on their enemies.
One might argue, as many did at the time, that the strife in Vietnam was really nothing more than a nasty civil war. Had the Soviets and Communist Chinese not fed arms and ammo to the Hanoi regime as a means to bolster the red flag at home and abroad—and, of course, to embarrass and bleed the Americans—perhaps the Kennedy and Johnson administrations would have left South Vietnam to its fate. It was almost as if the great global political struggle between the titans had to be violently acted out in that fetid, mosquito-infested backwater that only the people born there cared about. And over the Dragon’s Jaw.
Fifty-eight thousand Americans lost their lives in Southeast Asia during that war. Their deaths in a cause the nation ultimately abandoned still rankles. Veterans of that conflict came home to a nation that blamed them for the whole mess, for causing it, for joining the military or being drafted and obeying orders, and for all the angst and guilt felt by those who evaded or defied the draft. All in all, Vietnam was a low point in America’s vision of itself, a realization that sacrifice, valor, and good intentions are not enough to cure the ills of the world.
What grew from the ashes of that great tragedy was a new geopolitical order that eased the global tensions of the Cold War and, ultimately, in the 1990s, caused the collapse of Communism and breakup of the old Soviet Union as well as the transformation of China into something resembling a free-market autocracy. Vietnam, like China, remained a nominal Communist dictatorship but allowed capitalism and foreign trade to flourish, which gradually improved its citizens’ economic lot manyfold.
After Vietnam the American military continued to develop smart weapons. By the end of America’s involvement in Vietnam, twenty-seven thousand PGMs (precision-guided munitions) had been released in Southeast Asia, which was two-tenths of one percent of the 3.5 million bombs expended, but the PGMs recorded an average miss distance of twenty-three feet. More than half the smart bombs were scored as direct hits—ten times the figure for conventional ordnance. They had a bull’s-eye CEP.
As a natural outgrowth of its space endeavors, America developed the global positioning system (GPS) based on satellites. Weapons designers married GPS sensors to guided missiles and free-falling bombs, and the result was ordnance with phenomenal accuracy without the necessity for daytime, clear-air delivery, thereby revolutionizing war in the air. No longer would tactical or strategic aircraft need to expend tens or hundreds of tons of conventional ordnance to destroy one target. One warhead would be enough, day or night, in any weather. And it could be launched from well outside the envelope of defending weapons; indeed, from hundreds of miles away.
The world saw the result in the 1991 Gulf War, Operation Desert Storm, which freed Kuwait, and the 2003 Iraq war that buried the Saddam Hussein regime.
Still, weapons that create military victory are not enough. Henry Kissinger spoke the truth: unless they lead to a political settlement that will endure, military victories are essentially meaningless. Perhaps that is the ultimate lesson of Vietnam.
&n
bsp; The dream of airpower prophets since the horrors of World War I was that aviation would somehow save lives by reducing the necessity of mass armies of foot soldiers fighting, bleeding, and dying to bring wars to a successful conclusion. World War I ended in an armistice, and the political infrastructure that resulted soon fractured. With the help of air power, World War II solved the problem of European fascism and Japanese militarism once and for all. In the last half of the twentieth century, nuclear weapons prevented the final military battle between Communism and the great democracies. How the struggle between fundamental Islam and the secular worlds of East and West will play out remains to be seen. Only one thing is certain: there will be future wars. As military thinker Ralph Peters once said, “War may be what man does best.”
After their victory, the Vietnamese Communists began rebuilding the Dragon’s Jaw Bridge at Thanh Hoa. The AAA guns and SAMs were eventually removed. Additional spans were added downstream in subsequent years, the latest constructed by a Japanese firm.
Today those structures carry commerce north and south across the muddy Song Ma… and the skies above them contain only the eternal clouds and mist.
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The interior of the first Dragon’s Jaw bridge at Thanh Hoa. This elegant structure designed and built by the French, was completed in 1904, and in 1945 was destroyed by the Viet Minh, the Vietnamese resistance. The second bridge, completed by the North Vietnamese in 1964, was designed to carry more traffic and was of much stronger construction. (Author’s collection)
The Dragon’s Jaw in 1968, the second bridge at Thanh Hoa. Notice the bridge has a central pillar and is of steel truss construction. (Author’s collection)
USS Ranger (CVA-61) preparing to launch a sleek RA-5C Vigilante and an EKA-3B Skywarrior tanker during 1965 operations. (Tailhook Association)
A longstanding member of “The Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club” was USS Oriskany (CVA-34), which logged eight Vietnam deployments between 1965 and 1973. Her air wing commander, James B. Stockdale, was shot down on an aborted bridge strike in 1965. (National Museum of Naval Aviation)
An F-105D of the Thailand-based 355th Tactical Fighter Wing with full loadout of 750-pound M117 general purpose bombs, often employed against Thanh Hoa Bridge.
Probably more F-105 Thunderchiefs flew against the bridge than any other American aircraft. This cockpit view shows the “Thud’s” instrument panel with radar warning receiver mounted upper right. (National Museum of the Air Force)
Thunderchiefs from Takhli, Thailand, headed “up north” in 1966, refueling from a KC-135 tanker. F-105s flew all the initial attacks against Thanh Hoa Bridge in 1965. (National Museum of the Air Force)
Colonel Robinson Risner after his return from more than seven years of captivity in North Vietnam. He led the first two missions against Thanh Hoa Bridge and was shot down five months later. (Richard P. Hallion)
The Navy’s first MiG kills were scored on a USS Midway (CVA-41) strike against the bridge in June 1965. Left to right: Lt. J. E. D. Batson, VF-21 executive officer Cdr. Lou Page, RIOs Lt. Cdr. R. B. Doremus, and Lt. J. C. Smith. (Tailhook Association)
North Vietnam’s first generation of fighter pilots learned to fly the Korean War vintage MiG-15, here with underwing drop tanks to extend the range. (Istvan Toperczer)
On April 4 1965, North Vietnamese MiG-17s shot down two USAF F-105 Thunderchiefs. One of the victors was Lt. Tran Hanh, here receiving accolades of his comrades in a staged propaganda photo. (Istvan Toperczer)
The first North Vietnamese pilots to engage American aircraft were Tran Hanh and Pham Ngoc Lan, who encountered US Navy F-8 Crusaders on April 3, 1965.
A pilot’s view of the bridge showing the geographic features on each bank and the surrounding terrain that allowed Vietnamese gunners clear shots at US aircraft.
The Dragon’s Jaw under heavy attack, demonstrating why accurate bombing was difficult for trailing pilots after the initial hits obscured the target in smoke. Note the flak bursts in the air.
The Thanh Hoa Bridge on April 26, 1967, is very much intact. Photo taken by an RA-5C Vigilante from RVAH-13 aboard USS Kitty Hawk, CVA-63.
Lt. Cdr. Sam Sayers in the cockpit of an A-6 Intruder, about 1967. Sam flew 11 missions against the bridge, which the authors believe was the most by any airman. Shot down once near Vinh and fished from the sea by an Air Force rescue amphibian, Sayers was a highly competent professional aviator and a graduate of the Navy’s Test Pilot school, retiring eventually as a captain after thirty years of service. (Courtesy Mary Sayers)
The US repeatedly flew reconnaissance flights over the bridge, monitoring damage and repairs. Here Navy crewmen load cameras into an RA-5C Vigilante for another sortie. (National Museum of Naval Aviation)
The most effective American all-weather attack aircraft was Grumman’s Intruder, often flying solo sorties against the bridge. These A-6As of Attack Squadron 196 flew from USS Constellation (CVA-64) in 1968. (National Museum of Naval Aviation)
This reconnaissance photo was taken by an RA-5C Vigilante on January 19, 1968, just before the massive Air Force and Navy assaults of late January, which, like all the others at that stage of the war, failed to drop the bridge. Note the wealth of detail derived from study of the photo, especially using magnifying lenses. Note also the extensive work the North Vietnamese have done to get truck and rail traffic around the bomb craters and across the damaged bridge. Clearly visible in the upper left is a pontoon bridge for truck traffic.
This photo, taken on the same flight as the photo above, shows the southern approaches to the bridge. Railcars are clearly labeled sitting on spur lines. The presence of all these railcars was one reason the heavy attacks of late January 1968 were approved and flown. Also of note are the myriad of bomb craters after two and a half years of aerial assault. Fifty years later, far better imagery is provided by satellites.
Carrier Air Wing 15 flew from USS Coral Sea (CVA-41) for most of the Vietnam War. Here an Alpha strike smothers the eastern span in a pre-1969 mission.
North Vietnamese militia survey the remains of an F-105 shot down in May 1968. More Thunderchiefs were downed attacking the bridge than any other aircraft.
An SA-2 Guideline two-stage surface-to-air missile on its launcher. The radar-guided SAM posed a serious threat to American aircraft over North Vietnam but scored few kills against planes attacking Thanh Hoa Bridge. (Istvan Toperczer)
Vietnamese soldiers examine an engine from the Lockheed C-130 Hercules that was downed while dropping mines in the Ma River on May 30, 1966. (Troy Haworth)
Probably the smallest-caliber defensive weapon deployed around Thanh Hoa was the Russian-built 12.7mm (.50 caliber) “Dishika,” here posed with female crew for propaganda purposes. (Istvan Toperczer)
The single-barrel 14.5mm ZPU-1 had a low hit probability against jet aircraft, so it was usually deployed in multiples. (Istvan Toperczer)
North Vietnam’s 37mm antiaircraft gun was the Soviet-designed S61, dating from 1939. One of the eight crew members stands by with a five-round clip for a fast reload. (Istvan Toperczer)
North Vietnam’s premier Ho Chi Minh visiting a 57mm antiaircraft site, accompanied by a media chorus. (Istvan Toperczer)
The Pave Knife laser-designating pod that US Air Force F-4 Phantoms used to guide precision weapons onto the bridge in 1972. (National Museum of the Air Force)
In this Pima Air and Space Museum exhibit, a Paveway laser guidance unit is screwed onto a dummy Mark 84 2,000-pound bomb positioned on a loading cart, ready to go under an airplane.
This photo, taken in August 1972, is literally a snapshot of the campaign, after the crippling Air Force strike in May but before the Navy toppled the bridge in October. Many of the bomb craters on both approaches probably are residuals from US efforts to suppress nearby antiaircraft guns.
Reconnaissance flights kept
track of the bridge’s status after the Air Force strike that displaced the western span in May 1972. This shot was snapped by a USS Hancock (CVA-19) RF-8G Crusader on September 8. Note the water-filled bomb craters on both sides of the river. (USN)
The ultimate dragon slayers: pilots of Attack Squadron 82, whose combination of “dumb” and “smart” bombs did the deed in October 1972. Left to right: Lt(jg) Jim Brister and Lt(jg) Marvin Baldwin, squadron Cdr. Don Sumner, and operations officer Lt. Cdr. Leighton “Snuffy” Smith. (Admiral Leighton Smith)
Intended to replace the Douglas A-4, Vought’s A-7 Corsair II did not quite succeed in displacing the Skyhawk during the war, but provided excellent bombing accuracy and greater performance. This A-7C belonged to Attack Squadron 82, which dropped the Thanh Hoa Bridge.
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