USN F-14 shoots down USAF RF-4C

http://www.fighterpilotuniversity.com/index.cfm/2008/9/11/USN-Downs-USAF

On an early fall afternoon in September, 1987, Vodka 51, an RF-4C, departed Aviano Air Base in Italy bound, for the Mediterranean. Their job that day was to find the US aircraft carrier USS Saratoga. Of course, part of Exercise Display Determination, a joint USAF, USN and NATO exercise, taking place in the Med, was for Navy assets to defend the carrier and stop detection of its location. The search for the carrier and the defense of it, as always, were to occur within the exercise ROE.

Vodka 51 was flying a special RF-4 TEREC that day. TEREC, Tactical Electronic Reconnaissance, was the AN/ALQ-125, which enabled detection of electronic beeps and squeaks that could emanate from various sources, one being an aircraft carrier group. That’s how Vodka 51 planned to find the Saratoga.

USAF RF-4C Phantom II
Photo by Gunter Gronstein

After the flight across Northern Italy and into the Mediterranean, the first order of business for Vodka 51 was to hit a tanker for airborne refueling. Join up and hook up with the tanker was routine and uneventful. While taking gas the RF-4 crew noticed a Navy F-14 had joined on the tanker’s wing. Thinking nothing of it Vodka 51 concentrated on the task and hand and, once topped off, disconnected and left the tanker track to start their search. As they turned away, Vodka noticed the Tomcat did not stay with the tanker but appeared to follow them.

Vodka 51 got their TEREC equipment up and running then started their flight search pattern to hunt for the Saratoga. As it seems to happen on occasion, the cosmic stuff decides not to work and, on this day, the TEREC gear failed to operate. However, the RF-4 guys did notice the TACAN channel that was in use on the Saratoga three days prior was up and transmitting. That would allow them to make the briefed intercept of the Saratoga. As the Vodka 51 started down to the intercept altitude they lost sight of the Tomcat. Fifteen minutes after departing the tanker. a massive explosion engulfed the RF-4. Both the pilot and the WSO were able to eject. Although ejection parameters were not ideal, 550Kts, 5500 feet and negative 2.5 G’s, it was better than not getting out at all. All the egress equipment worked as briefed and, once they regained consciousness, they both found themselves under parachute canopies that settled them down to the warm waters of the Mediterranean. Their time in the water was relatively short, 45 minutes. A Navy rescue helicopter picked them up and brought them to the carrier. Vodka 51 had finally found the Saratoga.

Once they had been medically checked over and given dry clothes Vodka 51 met with the carrier CO. He asked them if they knew what had happened. When they said they thought they might have had a mid-air with the F-14 that had been following them, the CO said, “No, that F-14 was one of ours and he shot you down.” The WSO’s response was, "I thought we were on the same side sir!" To which the Admiral answered, "Normally we are."

USN F-14B Tomcat
Photo by Mark Wheless

After departing the tanker, the F-14 had indeed followed Vodka 51. The Tomcat was being flown by a young, Navy LTJG, tactical call sign "Smoke," a player in the exercise, whose task it was to defend the carrier. Apparently, this was going to be quite an atta-boy, quickly eliminating an adversary so early in the exercise It was his luck that day to see the RF-4 come on station and to be able to follow him into the exercise area after refueling. It was also his luck, or misfortune, that day to be flying with live ordinance for Fleet defense when he was re-tasked from that role to participate in the exercise. The F-14 HUD video recorded his call to the carrier asking, within exercise rules, to engage the RF-4. He was given clearance, within exercise rules, to shoot and destroy Vodka 51. On the video you can plainly hear the Navy fighter pilot call up his left missile. You can hear him say everything is good, announce he’s firing the missile and a release cue is displayed. However, the left missile had a motor malfunction and didn't fire. You can hear the pilot is somewhat confused when no missile departed the rail. Next you hear on the HUD video as the Tomcat pilot called up his right missile and announce everything is good. This time when the release cue is displayed you also see the F-14 is inside the Break X signal, that he's 2500 feet behind the RF-4 and the Air Force jet’s Zweibrucken AB, Germany tail flash, ZR, can plainly be seen. Then a live AIM-9 flashes into the HUD field of view and makes its way to the RF-4 where it impacts in front of the tail section resulting in a huge explosion. While all this is going on, you can hear the RIO’s profanity filled screams asking his pilot what has he done. Then starting a rescue effort the RIO transmits, “MAYDAY, MAYDAY MAYDAY, WE'VE JUST SHOT DOWN THE F-4 AT 060/05 FROM MOTHER, NO CHUTES, NO CHUTES, NO CHUTES.”

A few interesting side notes.

• One of the ROE’s of the exercise was that no participating aircraft were allowed to carry live missiles.

• The Navy LTJG, when asked later by the accident investigation board, said, yes, indeed, he intended to shoot a live missile. He was not court-martialed but put on non-flying duties and never flew again.

• This very same LTJG’s father was an active Navy Vice Admiral who, when flying combat missions in Vietnam, accidentally shot down his wingman.

• The pilot of Vodka 51 has ever since been known as Squidbait. He’s had numerous back surgeries as a result of the Martin-Baker ejection; the most recent, earlier this year, 2008.

• The accident board determined that Vodka 51 was very lucky to have almost full fuel tanks. Had those fuel tanks been mostly empty, filled with fuel vapors, the explosion would have been much more massive, ripping the RF-4 apart and almost certainly killing the crew.

"The Navy LTJG, when asked later by the accident investigation board, said, yes, indeed, he intended to shoot a live missile. He was not court-martialed but put on non-flying duties and never flew again."

Really? So he intended to shoot down the F-4, this was not an accident but intentional and nothing came of it. wtf?

Put another way: Yes, your honor I intended to shoot that lady in the head at point blank. And the judge says: well in that case, you're free to go.

I have to be missing something here.

Maybe this had something to do with it?

• This very same LTJG’s father was an active Navy Vice Admiral

Here's some worthless trivia; I was honored to have my name on RF-4C 565 in the photo above during my tour at Zweibrucken in the seventies and actually flew in the same exercise against the Saratoga albeit ten years earlier. 33 years later, "565" and I are comfortably retired in the same town in AZ.

Nah, that's good stuff!

I have heard that as well Mike. A friend of mine FCFed the F-4's for BAE at DM before they were sent elsewhere (Holloman/Tyndall?) to be converted to QF's. What a great job. I believe he was an ex F-117 driver as well. Initials are B.K.

I'm confused....

Wow... so the Navy LTJG got off almost scott free because daddy was in a pretty high position of power? That's kind of messed up. Especially considering the F-4 crew are still suffering from medical problems associated with their ejection event.

Very interesting story though, I certainly never knew of this before now.

Wow! What is it about the Saratoga and live-fire accidents?

I never knew about this incident, but, going through Sea Sparrow Fire Controlman "C" school, I was made well aware of the accidental Sea Sparrow firing that crippled a Turkish destroyer back in the 90's - TCG Muavenet.

This is a story that I have personal interest in, and it is quite refreshing to read its details from someone else’s point of view. I am not a pilot, but I was a young Aviation Electrician’s mate with the F-14 squadron involved in this incident.
I was twenty-two years old, and I was on top of the world, fixing state of the art fighter jets aboard the USS Saratoga. Far from the kid I was three years prior, shoveling cold patch into potholes for the borough. As a troubleshooter for VF-74, I was often tasked with doing quick repairs between flights. On this particular day, I did a repair on aircraft number 101, a beautiful new plane that still had the original factory paint. The F-14 was not a fly-by-wire plane which links the cockpit controls to the hydraulic systems electrically. This plane linked the cockpit controls to the hydraulic systems mechanically. The turtleback section ran along the plane’s spine and was predominantly occupied with the mechanical linkage that connected cockpit controls to the control surface actuators. The repair that I performed was in the turtleback section just aft of the cockpit bulkhead. Any debris or tools left behind during maintenance in this area could have serious and catastrophic effects on the controllability of the airplane. After the repair, I accompanied the plane and its crew to the catapult for a routinely uneventful launch.
With all the planes launched, I retreated to the AE shop for quick rest break before having to receive the birds from the previous sorties. I no sooner sat my ass down when Master Chief shouted over the bitch box “One-O-One is in the water”. The thought of a new plane crashing due to a mechanical failure did not even enter into my mind, let alone the possibility of being shot down. In my mind, there were only two possible reasons for this catastrophe: pilot error or maintenance error. I immediately rechecked to see that all my tools were in their proper place. My stomach was in a knot with the thought that I may be directly responsible for the loss of a plane and its crew. A trail of black smoke against the brilliant blue sky a few points abaft the ship’s starboard beam came into view, as I climbed onto flight deck’s port side by the waist catapults. Although still very concerned for the wellbeing of the crew, I felt somewhat relieved by the image in the sky. I was fairly certain that any mistake that I may have made in my repairs to the plane could not have caused a plane to break up in such fiery fashion. I headed starboard across the deck. There were orange flames of burning fuel on the sea’s surface eight or so miles away with a column of black smoke reaching thousands of feet skyward. A crowd was gathering as I stopped at the scupper to stare in awe at the distant wreckage. Behind me, a helicopter was readying for the rescue. The voice of a shipmate called to me. “Mac,” he said, “Master Chief just called back to say that he was mistaken, it seems that 101 did not crash, but actually shot down another plane, possibly an Italian fighter jet.” Feeling much relieved, I figured I would just let the situation unfold and present the truth without rumored speculation. I proceeded forward to prepare for the next round of recoveries and launches as Air boss ordered “All non-essential personnel off the flight deck, helmets on, goggles down, float coats on, and sleeves rolled down” in preparation for the resumption of flight operations. I found myself atop another plane doing a preflight inspection as the rescue helicopter was returning. “Please God,” I said lowly, “no bodies.” The helicopter landed, the door opened, and the rescued crew of two was helped onto the deck. They walked toward the island as my cheer blended with the cheers of my surrounding shipmates. The smug looks upon the faces of these two men and the obvious removal of national insignia from their olive drab flight suits indicated to me that these were not the faces of an Italian crew.
With the flight deck in full operation, I anxiously awaited the return of 101. The plane trapped, and I could see the tell tale markings of soot from AIM-9 on the starboard side of the aircraft. My skipper, with cupped hands around his mouth, called to me from the starboard catwalk outside of maintenance control, “What’s it look like, Mac?” “It doesn’t look good, Skip,” I hollered back, shaking my head as I made my way toward him. Acquiring a more conversation permitting distance, I continued, “You’re missing a missile.” After an uncharacteristically explosive rant and string of obscenities, Skipper stormed off below deck.
Part of my duties as a troubleshooter was to follow the crews to the office of our squadron’s maintenance control and debrief them about the performance of the plane’s avionics during their flight. My experiences with this particular young pilot were not very positive, and I did not share the same admiration for him as I did for most every officer in my squadron. In fact, I can not even remember his name. He parked the plane and shut her down as two personnel from ship’s security approached. The plane captain lowered the ladder and flipped open the steps to enable the crew to deplane. The men from security moved closely alongside the crew as they exited the plane. I could not help asking the pilot as he was being escorted away, “Sir… how did she fly today?” He just shot back a snidely glare as the two men directed him and his RIO toward the island, no doubt to stand in front of the ship’s captain. That was the last I ever saw of Mister what’s-his-name.
Fast forward a month or so, and a recovered piece of the wrecked United States Air Force RF-4C sat on the deck of the ship. It was an external fuel tank with some rather large openings torn into it. Someone had placed a sticker next to the larger of the holes; it was a sticker of our squadron’s emblem. As I stood looking at the tank along with two other electricians, another shipmate approached us. As this shipmate grew closer, my two comrades turned away swiftly, and uneasily moved on. Looking up, I snapped to attention, saluted and said sharply, “Good evening, Admiral Boorda.” “As you were, young man,” he responded with a smile. The two of us had a rather candid conversation as everyone else around us kept their distance. Taps played over the 1MC as the sun set and we continued on conversing. I do not remember all the details of the conversation that followed, but I do remember somewhat defending the pilot’s actions that brought down the F-4, citing perhaps a breakdown in communication contributed to the incident. The admiral shot back with a rather colorful remark concerning the character of the pilot. The pilot’s father was also an admiral and Mr. Boorda was much more familiar with this man than I was. I laughingly agreed with his opinion of the man saying, “Yea… I’m not a big fan”. He laughed back, “Well, young man, you won’t have to worry about dealing with him anymore, for that SOB will never fly again.”

Interesting read from the AE perspective. Thanks for posting such a long memoir. Admiral Boorda was a tragic figure and admirable one too(no pun intended). E-1 to CNO... I preferred him greatly to the CNO we had after Boorda who was a Tom Turkey guy.

This, along with the American flag kill mark, just floor me.

In my line of work in the 'blue' service, fratricide is taken very seriously and gravely. During upgrade training, a frat event results in the guilty pilot getting an enormous amount of criticism; he busts the ride, has to go stand tall in front of the DO, has to stand up in front of the squadron and explain himself, and write a "dear mom, your son is dead" letter to the parents/spouse of the guy they 'killed' and even actually send it. During continuation training, a simulated kill on a friendly results in the guilty crew buying a keg of beer for the bar, and standing in front of the whole squadron and giving their mea culpa.

If that had happened to my squadron, I sure as hell wouldn't have been zapping the wreckage...that's nothing to be proud of in ANY way, and if it was meant as a joke it was way the hell misplaced intent. Not even a remotely funny statement.

Huge career ending deal in the Army too. A peer of mine was relieved as a Company Commander over it and sent home from Afghanistan in the middle of his tour. He didn't squeeze the trigger, but his plan was bad enough that it was contributing to the frat incident.

Making light of the incident that brought that aircraft down is a direct reflection of the command climate of that unit.

Hahahahaha!!!

Mac, much thanks for the writeup!!!

The pilot involved went through T-38 PIT when I was an IP,... probably around '94. I wish I could remember his name. He sat down one day and told the story, and showed the F-14 video. IIRC, the father of the Tomcat pilot was also involved in a frat incident during his Navy days.
The RF-4C pilot was injured in the ejection, and I believe he said his RSO was really banged up bad.

I remember this incident quite well. It's nice to finally get the different perspectives from the people that were actually involved. I was a Machinist' Mate on the USS Virginia (CGN-38) in the Saratoga battle group at that time. We heard about the incident when it happened and we were the 1st ship on scene gathering the pieces of the aircraft out of the water. There is a great shot in our cruise book of the crew pulling a fuel tank (possibly the one MAC mentioned) out of the water. A lot of fuel had to be dumped over the side before we were allowed to bring it on board. I knew the pilot intended to shoot down the F4, but all these years I thought it was a freak break down of communications that caused the accident. I thought the F4 was intruding where he wasn't supposed to be during our Naval exercise. I had no idea he was actually PART of it. Just goes to show that even in peacetime, the military is a dangerous job.