From the early days of military flying, squadron crew chiefs and pilots were authorized to have their names painted on the fuselages of assigned aircraft in the interest of esprit de corps. Commanders recognized that loyalty and attachment to the unit of which one was a member could be enhanced by this practice. In the case of crew chiefs, or those individuals that were primarily responsible for the maintenance, repair, cleanliness, and airworthy condition of aircraft, this had the additional benefit of instilling pride in the work habits and sense of partial ownership that these sergeants displayed.
“Grease monkeys”, mechanics, crew chiefs, and maintenance technicians, were terms used to describe these dedicated folks. They were an integral part of a team. Cohesive unit camaraderie was essential to wartime, as well as peace time flying organizations. Nose art, the practice of painted figures, unique names and terms identified with bomber and fighter squadrons in our wartime activities was part of this esprit de corps.
If ever I needed a reminder of the this spirit and pride in aircraft identification, it was emphasized emphatically to me as a member of the 69th Fighter Bomber Squadron in Korea in 1955. With more pilots than aircraft assigned to our unit, my seniority in the squadron had not yet allowed me to have my name affixed to the left side cockpit rail on an F-86F. The more senior pilots had their names on the eighteen or so operational aircraft assigned to the 69th FBS, as did the crew chiefs.
At about the half way point in my year long tour at K-55 in Korea I had participated in a four ship formation flight on a gunnery and bombing proficiency mission. These missions were routine and our method of maintaining combat ready proficiency in our police action involvement in South Korea following the termination of the war. On this mission each aircraft had 100 rounds of .50 caliber ammunition loaded on two of the six guns and four 25 pound practice bombs. The ammo was expended on a cloth target on a controlled gunnery range near the coastline available for our purpose. Flying a box type pattern, each aircraft would have six to eight passes to fire on the target in short bursts from the guns within the nose cone of the jet fighter aircraft. After completion of the gunnery phase of the mission the box type pattern continued with a skip bomb approach that simulated the dropping of napalm bombs. The target was a ten foot high cloth target that was suspended on wooden poles set thirty feet apart. The approach to the target was made in a level flight attitude with a 50 foot minimum altitude at a speed of 300 knots (345 miles per hour). Credit for a successful run would be when the bomb was released to either hit the target on the fly or to hit the terrain short and skip into the target. A range control officer, located in a central control tower, would score the run and affirm a hit or miss. The marksmanship scores were based on a percentage of hits. A minimum percentage score, or in the case of high angle bombing or rocketry a circular footage error, was established for each type of ordnance delivery for each pilot to maintain a combat ready status.
My skip bombing score on this day was four for four, or 100 percent. I had proved my capability to accrue good scores in all gunnery and bombing phases during my stateside training and within this squadron. This flying activity was both challenging and pleasantly engaging. After expending the gun ammunition at a 15 by 15 foot strafing target, we departed the range and headed back to home base. After parking the Sabre Jets in their tarmac spots, we gathered in the squadron ready room for a quick debriefing of the mission. It was there that the crew chief of the aircraft I had just flown sought me out.
Fully aware of military protocol, the sergeant got me aside and asked, “What did you do to my aircraft?” Taken aback by the question I replied that I did not know what he was talking about. At that point the sergeant asked if I would accompany him to the aircraft. He proceeded to direct me to the right wing and the under hung 200 gallon fuel tank. It was the usual practice configuration to carry a fuel tank on each outboard wing station, with the practice ordnance hung on the inboard station. For gunnery and bombing practice missions the fuel tanks were normally empty. We kneeled down and looked at the underside of the right side fuel tank and observed an approximate four inch crease, or indentation, running the length of the five foot long, thin aluminum outer skin.
The crew chief had, prior to the aircraft’s last flight, conscientiously performed a preflight and knew that the skin damage to the tank was accomplished in some manner on the mission that I had just completed. Immediately I was fully aware of the cause of the dented fuel tank and the responsibility was completely mine.
With a profound apology to the crew chief, I proceeded to relay to him how the damage had occurred. In my over eagerness and aggressiveness to place the bomb on target, I had simply gotten too low and had scraped the tank over the post supporting the suspended cloth. With the bomb rack on the left wing, I had offset the flight path to the right of target center to better align the bomb path towards the middle, as was the routine procedure. I had accomplished my goal and had hit the target but at the expense of showing my stupidity in flying too low, and allowing my hot fighter pilot instincts to get the better of good judgment and safe flight procedures. The incident was an eye opener for me and that gave me an improved respect for mission accomplishment, but not at the expense of sound flight methods.
All gunnery and bombing practice ranges have an assigned range safety officer, whose responsibilities entail that proper and safe procedures are followed in addition to scoring and recording the scores of the practicing pilots. In this case I should have been kicked off the range and out of the bombing pattern due to my negligence in flying well below the 50 foot minimum altitude on the skip bombing pass. The range officer said nothing, and I felt nothing at the time to tell me I had done anything amiss. But the total responsibility had been mine for this lapse of judgment, and I accepted the same.
The squadron had numerous, expendable fuel tanks stacked in a nearby storage area and a replacement 200 gallon tank was installed. Nothing further came of the incident, but it was one that made a safer aviator of one young Lieutenant. Under different conditions, and with a less lenient Squadron Operations Officer, that hot pilot could have suffered severe consequences.
Wings Over Cumberland 