Fear in Combat
Gums young fella,
The one I lifted to Bien Hoa was from Vinh Long and had been put down due to a hydraulics problem as I recall.
It was well after dark when we got it back as we had to refuel in Duc Hoa after picking it up.
The one I lifted to Bien Hoa was from Vinh Long and had been put down due to a hydraulics problem as I recall.
It was well after dark when we got it back as we had to refuel in Duc Hoa after picking it up.
Last edited by SASless; 12th Dec 2019 at 11:26.
Not on the air, but as an acting Det Cdr in Macedonia in 1999, I was confronted with a situation with injured allied personnel (injured in a car accident) being taken hostage by armed militia. I stood my ground, but remember trembling with rage so much I had to put my pistol on a table to line up the loaded magazine. The guys with AK 47s and RPGs were a murderous lot but let teo of our guys go, but held an injured Norwegian captain at gun point. The incident didn't end that well; but I remember downing a large number of beers whe the Wg Cdr turned up to debrief us. I remember shaking a lot. Got written up for a MOD, but compared with what our people have done in Iraq and Afghanistan in more recent years, I feel ashamed.
An obituary in the D. Tel. of yesterday's date records the passing at the age of 101of one of the last four surviving Battle of Britain pilots; Fl.Lt. Maurice Mounsdon.
When asked previously about his Battle of Britain experiences, he recalled: "The dogfights were pretty frightening. Everyone was firing at the same time. It was a matter of luck whether or not you survived but, at the end of it all, it was the happiest time of my life, though I lost of lot of good friends".
Fl. Lt. Mounsdon flew Hurricanes during the Battle. He was eventually shot down in flames and became one of Archibald McIndoe's early members of the Guinea Pig Club.
When asked previously about his Battle of Britain experiences, he recalled: "The dogfights were pretty frightening. Everyone was firing at the same time. It was a matter of luck whether or not you survived but, at the end of it all, it was the happiest time of my life, though I lost of lot of good friends".
Fl. Lt. Mounsdon flew Hurricanes during the Battle. He was eventually shot down in flames and became one of Archibald McIndoe's early members of the Guinea Pig Club.
I flew 153 combat missions over North Viet Nam in 1976/1968 as a Navy Fighter Pilot in the F-8 Crusader. I specifically remember not experiencing any fear even when the SAMs and AAA were particularly thick and I thought it rather odd, both now and at the time.
I expected to be afraid, but I wasn't. Of course, I was a youngster only 21 and 22 years old without a wife or kids. The really old guys around 30 years old were of two types. A number of them were literally completely fearless, or at least they talked and flew that way. These men were respected by all of us. Most of the other guys were seriously frightened, at least from time to time, but did an equally fine job anyway. They were also well respected. Then there were one or two who really didn't belong there but they didn't turn in their wings because they had a career to protect. So they found a way to avoid the tougher missions by claiming a malfunction or faking a radio failure prior to launch. These pilots were not well respected........... no surprise there.
Personally, I was having a ball. I have a vivid memory of telling myself that I was living life as if I were playing a part in an exciting movie. That sounds strange now, but it really was fun. That sort of combat flying in the most hostile air environment ever seen before or since is a real test of one's flying skills and demonstrating those skills, it seemed to me, was something quite satisfying. Of course it helped being totally convinced that I would never get shot down. I truly believed that, even after watching one SA-2 fly by close enough to read the Russian lettering and noting the failure of the warhead to detonate or when returning to the carrier with a few holes in my airplane. It was dangerous flying indeed and we lost a quarter of the 100 or so Airwing pilots, either killed or captured. But I knew in my heart, they would never get me.
Having said that, I also remember my knees shaking on quite a few occasions after a night carrier landing. This was particularly concerning when some 18 year old Fly One taxi director was guiding you out of the arresting gear and up to the parking spot on the bow with your port side main gear rolling along less than a foot from the edge of the deck, all in pitch darkness. The only thing you could see were his two illuminated taxi wands. Then, since the seat of the Crusader was forward of the nose gear, they would taxi you out over the bow before signaling a sharp right turn to spot you on the bow. Precision steering (using the rudder pedals) when my knees were clacking together added to the challenge. I don't remember being afraid, but it's obvious my knees were scared s**t-less.
Of course, the anxiety associated with night carrier landings in the F-8 is the same with or without combat. In fact, the Aviation Physiology guys put heart monitors on a few guys and took blood samples from the rest of us to determine when we experienced maximum stress. For the F-8 guys catapult shots produced moderate anxiety, combat flying produced the least anxiety, and landings the most, especially night landings. We could have told them that and saved them the trouble.
In retrospect I should have been frightened but I guess I was too young, too stupid, too uninformed, too full of my own B.S., too confident, too highly trained, too good, and simply too afraid of being afraid. It worked out though and if I could recreate any part of my life it would be those year of carrier operations in the Gulf of Tonkin.
I expected to be afraid, but I wasn't. Of course, I was a youngster only 21 and 22 years old without a wife or kids. The really old guys around 30 years old were of two types. A number of them were literally completely fearless, or at least they talked and flew that way. These men were respected by all of us. Most of the other guys were seriously frightened, at least from time to time, but did an equally fine job anyway. They were also well respected. Then there were one or two who really didn't belong there but they didn't turn in their wings because they had a career to protect. So they found a way to avoid the tougher missions by claiming a malfunction or faking a radio failure prior to launch. These pilots were not well respected........... no surprise there.
Personally, I was having a ball. I have a vivid memory of telling myself that I was living life as if I were playing a part in an exciting movie. That sounds strange now, but it really was fun. That sort of combat flying in the most hostile air environment ever seen before or since is a real test of one's flying skills and demonstrating those skills, it seemed to me, was something quite satisfying. Of course it helped being totally convinced that I would never get shot down. I truly believed that, even after watching one SA-2 fly by close enough to read the Russian lettering and noting the failure of the warhead to detonate or when returning to the carrier with a few holes in my airplane. It was dangerous flying indeed and we lost a quarter of the 100 or so Airwing pilots, either killed or captured. But I knew in my heart, they would never get me.
Having said that, I also remember my knees shaking on quite a few occasions after a night carrier landing. This was particularly concerning when some 18 year old Fly One taxi director was guiding you out of the arresting gear and up to the parking spot on the bow with your port side main gear rolling along less than a foot from the edge of the deck, all in pitch darkness. The only thing you could see were his two illuminated taxi wands. Then, since the seat of the Crusader was forward of the nose gear, they would taxi you out over the bow before signaling a sharp right turn to spot you on the bow. Precision steering (using the rudder pedals) when my knees were clacking together added to the challenge. I don't remember being afraid, but it's obvious my knees were scared s**t-less.
Of course, the anxiety associated with night carrier landings in the F-8 is the same with or without combat. In fact, the Aviation Physiology guys put heart monitors on a few guys and took blood samples from the rest of us to determine when we experienced maximum stress. For the F-8 guys catapult shots produced moderate anxiety, combat flying produced the least anxiety, and landings the most, especially night landings. We could have told them that and saved them the trouble.
In retrospect I should have been frightened but I guess I was too young, too stupid, too uninformed, too full of my own B.S., too confident, too highly trained, too good, and simply too afraid of being afraid. It worked out though and if I could recreate any part of my life it would be those year of carrier operations in the Gulf of Tonkin.
I have only 52 missions under my belt but concur with Gum; the first couple are the worst. Not helped by the fact that I was hit by 20mm HE at 150' over the target on the very first mission. I have extremely vivid memories of rounding Mount Low at 50' to see a firestorm of ground fire and missiles coming my way from the airfield at Stanley. I was scared for about 6 nano-secs before the training kicked in and I found myself flying at 10' AGL and 480 kts. Seemed safer down there, somehow.
The only other time that I really felt scared was in the wardroom bar, in anti-flash, with a half-empty pint, knowing that an Exocet was due in 30secs and there was cock-all that I could do about it. I did feel very angry on occasions though!
The brave guys were the ones who were scared witless and did the job anyway.
Mog
The only other time that I really felt scared was in the wardroom bar, in anti-flash, with a half-empty pint, knowing that an Exocet was due in 30secs and there was cock-all that I could do about it. I did feel very angry on occasions though!
The brave guys were the ones who were scared witless and did the job anyway.
Mog
Mozella
What a superb recall. What an excellent trip down Memory Lane ! I think that the key explanation is the extreme youthfulness of most who tell their story. At aged eighteen, nineteen or twenty, fear plays little part. That is why war is necessarily a young mans game.
What a superb recall. What an excellent trip down Memory Lane ! I think that the key explanation is the extreme youthfulness of most who tell their story. At aged eighteen, nineteen or twenty, fear plays little part. That is why war is necessarily a young mans game.
There is a book called "Terror in the Starboard Seat" by a WWII Mozzie Navigator that is an excellent account that directly relates to our discussion.
I very much recommend the book....it is humorous and reminds us of the dangers of combat flying no matter the War.
I very much recommend the book....it is humorous and reminds us of the dangers of combat flying no matter the War.
SASless
Any additional info please regarding the book you mention ? ISBN number ? Authors name ? Publisher ?
My own rather humble experiences in dodging angry bullets and the odd grenade while serving in No. 40 Commando left me at the time and subsequently with feelings of extreme exhilaration and excitement. Fear, then, wasn't on the agenda. Years later, there were two or three occasions when the words bowel, evacuation and the eye of a needle featured as a description of events.
Any additional info please regarding the book you mention ? ISBN number ? Authors name ? Publisher ?
My own rather humble experiences in dodging angry bullets and the odd grenade while serving in No. 40 Commando left me at the time and subsequently with feelings of extreme exhilaration and excitement. Fear, then, wasn't on the agenda. Years later, there were two or three occasions when the words bowel, evacuation and the eye of a needle featured as a description of events.
SASless
Any additional info please regarding the book you mention ? ISBN number ? Authors name ? Publisher ?
My own rather humble experiences in dodging angry bullets and the odd grenade while serving in No. 40 Commando left me at the time and subsequently with feelings of extreme exhilaration and excitement. Fear, then, wasn't on the agenda. Years later, there were two or three occasions when the words bowel, evacuation and the eye of a needle featured as a description of events.
Any additional info please regarding the book you mention ? ISBN number ? Authors name ? Publisher ?
My own rather humble experiences in dodging angry bullets and the odd grenade while serving in No. 40 Commando left me at the time and subsequently with feelings of extreme exhilaration and excitement. Fear, then, wasn't on the agenda. Years later, there were two or three occasions when the words bowel, evacuation and the eye of a needle featured as a description of events.
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My encounter was a 15 minute battle of wills with a ground based SAM system. I had to get over some high ground and he didn’t want to let me. I had a fabulous young exchange officer next to me who knew his radar stuff. Every time the radar locked a little bit more poop came out. We eventually got through thanks to his brain, NOT my flying
I can also highly recommend “Terror In The Starboard Seat”. All the elements are there, joy, fear, pathos, etc. After the war, Dave McIntosh became a parliamentary press corespondent (and sometime author) in Ottawa. His pilot, after surviving 41 sorties in a Mosquito, died a seemingly stupid death several decades after the war.
Their Squadron Leader was a man named Russ Bannock who just turned 100 in early November. He comes across as a born leader of men, getting excellent mentions in the book. After the war, Russ became the chief test pilot for de Havilland Canada and test flew everything from the Chipmunk up to (I believe) the Caribou. I was utterly privileged to have met Russ two years ago through a mutual friend. We booked a PR session in the B787 simulator and spent a very enjoyable three hours in the box with him - and he’s still pretty good.
After our sim session, I asked Russ if he would be so kind as to autograph my copy of the book, which he most graciously did. I also tucked a photo taken of us that day which safely inside the book.
Wikipedia - Russ Bannock
Their Squadron Leader was a man named Russ Bannock who just turned 100 in early November. He comes across as a born leader of men, getting excellent mentions in the book. After the war, Russ became the chief test pilot for de Havilland Canada and test flew everything from the Chipmunk up to (I believe) the Caribou. I was utterly privileged to have met Russ two years ago through a mutual friend. We booked a PR session in the B787 simulator and spent a very enjoyable three hours in the box with him - and he’s still pretty good.
After our sim session, I asked Russ if he would be so kind as to autograph my copy of the book, which he most graciously did. I also tucked a photo taken of us that day which safely inside the book.
Wikipedia - Russ Bannock
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I have only 52 missions under my belt but concur with Gum; the first couple are the worst. Not helped by the fact that I was hit by 20mm HE at 150' over the target on the very first mission. I have extremely vivid memories of rounding Mount Low at 50' to see a firestorm of ground fire and missiles coming my way from the airfield at Stanley. I was scared for about 6 nano-secs before the training kicked in and I found myself flying at 10' AGL and 480 kts. Seemed safer down there, somehow.
The only other time that I really felt scared was in the wardroom bar, in anti-flash, with a half-empty pint, knowing that an Exocet was due in 30secs and there was cock-all that I could do about it. I did feel very angry on occasions though!
The brave guys were the ones who were scared witless and did the job anyway.
Mog
The only other time that I really felt scared was in the wardroom bar, in anti-flash, with a half-empty pint, knowing that an Exocet was due in 30secs and there was cock-all that I could do about it. I did feel very angry on occasions though!
The brave guys were the ones who were scared witless and did the job anyway.
Mog
Extremely focused! Don't know if adrenalin can help with G tolerance but apart from being very focused on the job in hand, my feelings swung rapidly between extreme anger - when I saw an A4 hit a landing craft and empathy - when the second guy banged out after I hit him and his winger with AIM9Ls.
Mind you, it was all over within seconds and then there was the joy of my first ever night deck landing, under a CB, in hissing rain with 90 secs of gas left in the tank.
Al least they kept the bar open for us!
Mog
