Eyes in the sky over North Vietnam: RA-5C Vigilante

Flight Journal, Aug 2002 by Powell, Robert

On the bow catapult of a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier in the Gulf of Tonkin, the yellow-shirted director sweeps one hand low and forward; the other hand-at shoulder height-opens from a fist to splayed fingers. The below-thewaist signal is for the catapult crew: "Take tension." The high signal is to me, the pilot: "Release brakes." I drop my heels to the floor but leave my toes on the rudders. My left hand pushes the throttles to the detent for full military power. While the J-79 engines spool up, I look over to the catapult officer, the "shooter." He is waving his hand-with two fingers up-over his head. I look back in the cockpit at the engine gauges: rpm, temperatures, pressure-all good. The intercom to the back seat is "hot," so I say, "Looks good. You ready?" The shooter is flicking his hand open and shut. Time for afterburner. I hear "All ready in back" from the reconnaissance attack navigator (RAN). I push the throttles past the detent as far forward as they can go and brace them there with my fingertips. To reach all the way to the catapult grip would pull my shoulder off the seatback-not a good thing if I have to eject. I quickly check one tiny gauge with two needles for the afterburner nozzle positions. They both swing around symmetrically. Too much time in burner will damage the seawatercooled blast deflectors that are only a few feet behind the exhausts.

I report the gauge readings to "Bull" Davis, my RAN for today's mission, and throw an exaggerated salute to the catapult officer. I drop my right hand to the stick, brace my elbow on my thigh, settle my helmet solidly against the headrest and check that my back is straight. My breathing becomes shallower. I wait while the Vigilante quivers and roars with 36,000 pounds of thrust boiling the air behind me.

The catapult officer looks back and forth in a final check, leans far forward and touches a hand to the deck. At the edge of my vision, I can see the sailor at the control console drop his hands from over his head and press a large green button.

The catapult fires. The weight on my chest forces me to grunt. I strain my neck as I try to pull my head off the rest; if I succeed, I will eject. Seventy thousand pounds of airplane is accelerating to 170mph. As the "Vigi" clears the deck, 3,000 pounds of hydraulic pressure in the nose gear extend the Oleo strut hard enough to vibrate the nose and make the instrument panel a blur (barely noticed in the daytime, this could create moments of confused terror at night). I can now lean forward, reach with my left hand to raise the landing-gear lever and pull the throttles back from afterburner to military power. I keep low, turn starboard away from the carrier, accelerate, then climb and look around for my F-4 Phantom escort.

The rendezvous is at 15,000 feet over the aircraft carrier. The F-4 has Sidewinder missiles on pylons below its wings, a huge fuel tank hung on its belly and Sparrow missiles partially buried in its fuselage. Although the two jets have the same engines, GE J-79-10s, my RA-SC Vigilante can outrun our fighter escort because it doesn't carry any external stores and is "clean" aerodynamically. Also, it carries twice as much fuel.

The J-79 engine, however, runs dirty. A black smoke trail streams out behind, which makes the aircraft easy to spot and helps enemy ground gunners track and shoot at it. The solution is to fly in combat using afterburner, which provides a clear exhaust. I will stay in minimum afterburner while "over the beach," but unless the Phantom crew has paid attention during the briefing and can anticipate turns and stay inside, they will be left behind-even with full afterburner.

As I slide alongside the F-4, the pilot taps his helmet and points to give me the lead. I tell Bull, and he calls a radio change to Strike frequency. I tap my ear and hold up five fingers. The Phantom RIO acknowledges.

THE RAN

When the Vigilante was new and called the "A-3J," (later, the "A-SA"), the men in the back were simply called bombardier navigators (BN), but when the plane's mission changed to reconnaissance with the RA-SC, they became known as reconnaissance attack navigators (RANs). The A remained even after the attack role was abandoned. The RAN is the heart of the reconnaissance mission. His job is to run the ASB-12 inertial navigation system that integrates radar and television for updating the navigation and target detection (the television scanner lens is in the small glass blister on the bottom of a Vigi's nose). All I have in the front cockpit is a steering bar and distance readout. The most frequent command from the back seat is "Follow steering."

Additionally, the RAN mans the controls for a suite of sophisticated cameras. No matter how much an RA-SC maneuvers during a photo run, the RAN has to monitor film use, exposure settings and, most important, image motion compensation (IMC). The optical viewfinder has an opening in the belly, and, through a series of lenses, it gives the RAN a look at the ground that is superimposed with moving lines of light. The RAN's job is to adjust the lines to match speed over the surface. Home photographers who have jiggled their cameras are familiar with what happens if you don't compensate for motion. Add the controls for an infrared mapping unit, side-looking-- radar, various electronic countermeasures, plus normal crew coordination, and a RAN has enough duties to keep him busier than a bartender at last call.