I got this in e-mail from a Buddy:
"Continue at pilot’s discretion"….
(Courtesy of Roy "Snake" McDermid)
This story is probably more suitable to the annals of "Grandpa Pettibone" than a Navy combat squadron’s hallowed archives but it may be of interest. From a 1967 cruise on the USS Bonne Homme Richard, Viet Nam, the Tonkin Gulf, Yankee station.
As a newly commissioned LTjg. this was my first cruise on the USS Bon Homme Richard with VF-51. The Skipper (CDR. Bill Parish) and I were returning to the "Bonnie Dick" in our F-8 Echos. Low on fuel due to our mission we were to be number one and two in the recovery cycle of the CAG-5 strike force. We descended in wing formation for a Case I recovery. As we entered a cloud layer at about six-thousand feet the ship steamed into a fog bank and changed the recovery to Case III, broadcasting the weather as 200 foot overcast and one-half mile visibility. Things were about to get interesting.
I stayed glued to the Skipper’s wing as we continued our descent through clouds and thick fog. The plan was for us to stay in section until 2 miles from the ship then I would go around to make my own approach. I suddenly saw green water and the wake of the ship off the port side of the Skipper’s airplane. We dropped gear and raised the wing. A quick glance at my altimeter indicated 200 feet (or so). We slid through the lowest wisps of fog for another minute or two then the Skipper "kissed me off". I pulled up, cleaned up and climbed to 1,200 feet on CCA vectors.
A minute or two passed, I waited to hear the "Batterup 101, Gator ball" and fuel state call from the Skipper, followed by the LSO’s instructions. Nothing….then, "I’ve got a ball!", followed by more silence, punctuated only by the soft whoosh of the flapper valve in my oxygen mask and the muted whine of the engine. A nagging thought began to scratch the back of my brain, "that’s not right".
CCA gave me a downwind turn and descent to 600 feet. I dropped the gear again, raised the wing, checked hook down and concentrated on flying the airplane. A turn to the Fox Corpen and CCA’s transmission, "approaching glidepath, begin descent" call increased my awareness and concentration dramatically. At 200 feet I’m still in thick fog. Thinking, "if the Skipper can do this I can!" I continue to descend, looking for water and the wake of the ship. CCA tells me, "you’re below glide path, continue at pilot’s discretion".
I’ve got green water and the wake! Things start happening quite rapidly about this time. I note the radar altimeter is somewhere below 100 feet, AOA is good and the wake is strong off the right side of my canopy (a little jingle in the survival part of my head went unnoticed) and I’m in a continuous slight left bank. For whatever reason the ship had decided to make a hard turn to port during my approach. Trying to stay below the fog, I take another quick glance at the RA…. 50 feet, (or so). About the time I decide this is ALL WRONG! REALLY STUPID! And way beyond where I want to be, the carrier shows up.
A gray, steel wall suddenly looms very large in the oval, center windshield of my Crusader. A microsecond of reflection tells me this is the side of the ship. I can’t see the bow or the fantail or the flight deck. Jamming the throttle to max, I think burner would be a good idea but the Gator has a bad reputation for nozzles opening but no afterburner light off. I’m doing, maybe, 130 knots. This is not a good idea. I pull the nose up to max climb, trying to maintain 3:00 on the AOA. Two seconds later I see the flight deck from the port side, I’m pretty much aimed at the 0-2 level, midway on the island. I see the deck crews running helter skelter. One purple shirt in particular gets my attention. He’s running for the island, arms and legs pumping. Several feet before he reaches the island he dove head first through an open hatchway. The Air Boss and his crew and the Captain and the bridge crew are all face down on their deck’s waiting for the impact. The LSO’s are in their net, scrambling for the safe locker
I pull left, maybe I can clear the island! I can immediately see that’s not going to work, I’ll hit way short of the forward part of the island about bridge level. I roll level and pull. Looking up I see the top of the island and there is no way I’m getting over it, it looks like a peak of the Himalayas from ground level. There is no choice left but to go right. There is a narrow opening between the aft end of the island and "Tilly", the tall yellow crane used to remove wrecked airplanes from the flight deck. I aim for that. Now operating in a purely survival mode I roll into a ninety degree bank to the right. The "plat" video that I see later shows a two-second shot of the white belly of a Crusader, streaking from right to left, wingtip dragging the flight deck.
My last thought was that I’m was going to tear my hook into the revolving radar net directly in front of me, two levels above the flight deck. It continues it’s swing allowing me safe passage. In a ninety degree bank, barely off the water, back in the clag, undemolished, I keyed the mike, "Holy Shit!". Not too erudite, but all I could manage at the moment, just savoring the fact that I and many shipmates were still alive.
CCA’s response was, "Rocket 99, bingo Da Nang!". All aircraft that were supposed to recover aboard went to the Air Force base at Da Nang, South VN. I plugged into an A-4 tanker with 400 pounds of fuel remaining and we proceeded to Da Nang with two other A-4’s gasping for fuel. But, that’s another story.
Roy McDermid
CDR. USNR-Ret.
"Continue at pilot’s discretion"….
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