Fighter Drags

Before the introduction of the KC-135 there was the propeller-driven KC-97 (an adaptation of the Boeing B-50) that refueled bombers.  Strategic Air Command (SAC) needed the KC-135 to fulfill the needs of its bomber force.  The KC-97 was limited at best in taking care of B-52 and B-47s; it could not accommodate B-58s at all.  The KC-135 was compatible with the B-52 fleet, and it could easily take care of the aging B-47 fleet as well as the supersonic B-58 fleet.  The KC-97 could not do that. 

KC-97 with B-47

SAC bombers all air refueled by means of a rigid “flying boom” that was controlled by a boom operator.  The Boomer literally could fly the air refueling nozzle to the air refueling receptacle of any of the bomber aircraft and engage the air refueling contact necessary to pass fuel from tanker to bomber.  The Boomer also could trigger a disconnect between tanker and bomber if necessary.  Triggering a disconnect was almost always the result of the bomber flying into an unsafe position behind the tanker.

But fighters needed air refueling also in order to be quickly deployed to forward operating bases in Europe and the Western Pacific.  The term "fighter drag" appeared in air refueling lexicon about the time the Boeing KC-135 became widely used to get fighter aircraft across oceans to either Europe or to the Western Pacific.  Before the KC-135 became available, fighters crossed the oceans by relying

KB-50J

on the fuel supplied by propeller-driven tankers, mainly KB-50s.  The propeller-driven aircraft could not transfer much fuel to the fighters, and they could not fly at the cruise speeds the fighters needed to fly at.  The solution to those problems was for the fighters to hop from one formation of KB-50s to the next at intervals close enough to be reasonably sure that the fighters could safely land someplace if they missed an air refueling.  The air refueling was conducted with the fighter just above stall speed and the KB-50 flying at its max airspeed and in a descent.  It was a dicey way of getting across the Atlantic Ocean, but it worked pretty well.  The introduction of the KC-135 jet powered tanker changed the way fighters conducted aerial refueling.

My first fighter drag involved moving a squadron of F-104s from George AFB, California to Morón Air Base, Spain.  It took place in January, 1964.  The tanker force of six or seven KC-135s staged out of Altus AFB, Oklahoma.  The plan was for each KC-135 to depart Altus at fifteen minute intervals, starting at about 1900 local time.  Each tanker flew out to about Tucumcari, New Mexico, and

effected a rendezvous with a flight of four F-104s and a spare.  Then it was a dash across the USA toward Fredericton, New Brunswick, where the fighters would be handed off to another set of KC-135s for the trip across the Atlantic Ocean to Morón.  It would be a challenging flight for the F-104 pilots:  ten hours sitting in the cockpit of the F-104 in an anti-exposure suit that had to be worn over normal flight clothing.  The anti-exposure suit, aka “poopie suit,” was to give the pilot some survival time in case he had to eject over the frigid Atlantic Ocean.  It was so much of a challenge that Tactical Air Command (TAC) had conducted a test mission of ten hours duration over the western USA as part of the planning phase for the mission.

We departed Altus close to 2000 local time.  Soon after level off we were in radio contact with our receivers.  The rendezvous went as planned.  Coming head-on we were closing at somewhere around 800 knots. At 21 nautical miles separation, we started our turn to the receiver heading; we rolled out two miles or so ahead of our flight of five F-104s.  “Push it up” came the call from the fighter flight leader; we accelerated to air refueling speed for the F-104 (a bit over 500 knots true airspeed).  We would cruise with the F-104s at that speed all the way to the rendezvous point over New Brunswick where the tankers that would take four of our F-104s across the Atlantic waited.  Somewhere prior to the rendezvous with the second flight of tankers, the fighter flight lead would decide who would be making the trip across the Atlantic.

As soon as the receivers joined with us they each took on fuel to top off their tanks and verify that their air refueling systems were in working order.  All of the F-104s took fuel as planned.  I made a log entry for the completion of the first A/R and noted the instrument readings.  The Doppler ground speed was off the scale at over 700 knots, and the Doppler drift angle was almost zero.  In short, we had a jet stream blowing on our tail that was in excess of 200 knots.  It would take us about two hours and forty minutes to travel the 1900 nautical miles, or so, to Fredericton New Brunswick.  Surprisingly, we experienced little to no clear air turbulence enroute.

Over the next two and a half hours, we listened to the HF radio traffic for updates from TAC headquarters.  TAC was trying to be on top of this operation as much as it could.  We refueled the F-104s a couple of more times; F-104s are notoriously short on range and the objective was to keep them near full tanks so that their range would be about as great as physically possible.  As we neared Ohio, the fighter flight lead made his decision as to who would drop out of the formation and land.  The rest topped off one more time not long before we came within UHF radio range of the tankers who would be taking the flight of four across the Atlantic to Morón.

The eastern horizon was brightening just as we started the rendezvous with the hand-off tankers.  The pilot handed the UHF off to me and I set us up for a Point-Parallel Rendezvous.  The count down from seventy nautical miles down to tanker turn range went quickly, and we were less than two miles behind and below the hand-off tankers when the fighter flight lead told his new tankers to “push it

F-104C flight of four

up,” i.e., accelerate to air refueling speed.  We watched the F-104 flight of four climb the 2000 feet to the altitude of the tankers that would escort them the rest of the way to Spain; we started a descending right turn and headed for our landing at Westover AFB, Massachusetts.  Next day we were briefed on the outcome of that operation we had been a part of.  The F-104s made it to Morón in record time, but it was still a ten hour flight.  The ground crews had to help the pilots out of their cockpits; sitting in one position in a cramped F-104 cockpit for some ten hours turns out to be an ordeal.  We then returned to our home base of Ellsworth AFB, South Dakota.

Going West

The next fighter drag came just four months later.  We were tasked to take four F-105Fs to Guam.  This was not going to be as elaborate as that deployment to  Morón, but it involved two tankers because the F-105F had a higher fuel consumption  rate that those F-104s.  Of course, the Thuds were larger and could fly a lot farther than the -104s without needing refueling.

Our staging base for the operation was March AFB, California.  We arrived Sunday afternoon; the operation would commence the next morning, as soon as we were assured that the F-105s were ready to depart George AFB.  We were to rendezvous at Santa Barbara VORTAC and take the Thuds on the first leg of the trip to Hickam AFB, Hawaii.  We took off and climbed to air refueling altitude; we were approaching Santa Barbara VORTAC when we got our first call from the Thuds; they were airborne and on their way.

Using the same Point-Parallel tactic we used with the F-104s, we headed toward the Thuds; since we both where using distance information from Santa Barbara VORTAC, determining the proper turn range was pretty easy.  In addition, the lead Thud pilot gave us some coaching to expedite the join-up.  By the time we got back to Santa Barbara VORTAC we were joined up.  We were lead tanker and the accompanying tanker was echeloned off to our right a mile or so.  The Thuds pulled up behind us for their first A/R; we needed to make sure all systems were “GO” before we committed for Hickam.  The first Thud pulled up behind the boom nozzle; “I’ve never done this before,” he announced.  He quickly added that this was his first time behind a KC-135, but he had lots of KB-50 experience.  Refueling from us surely would be easier than from a KB-50.  It was.  The boomer plugged him; the Contact Made light came on and we started pumping.  About ten thousand pounds of fuel later he told us he was full and disconnected.  Thuds took a lot more fuel than F-104s did.  The next Thud jock pulled up behind us and quickly took his on-load also.  Piece of cake.  The other tanker had a similar experience.  Hickam, here we come.

The Thuds hung off our wing tips in a loose formation.  Thuds had an autopilot, and that made keeping in formation easier.  They also had a fancier navigation system than the F-104s, so I made it a practice of giving everybody a positional update, whenever I took a celestial position.  Things were going well.  The Thud pilots were especially happy that they could fly off our wings rather than having to hop between KB-50 formations and go through all the ordeal of descending, flying just above stall speed, and then climbing back to cruise altitude.

Enroute formation on a clear day

Our planned route of flight had us flying from Santa Barbara VORTAC to Hilo ADF and then to Hickam.  As we neared Hilo, Honolulu Air Traffic Control started vectoring us for Hickam. The Thuds were out ahead of us, having taken their final air refueling; the objective was to get them on the ground ASAP.  We flew up the chain of islands from Hawaii (The Big Island), to just west of Maui, past Lanai and Kahoolawe, up the west side of Molokai, and into the traffic pattern for a straight-in to Honolulu International.  You pass over the entrance to Pearl Harbor just before you reach the runway threshold for landing at PHNL.  We landed, taxied in and parked; the four F-105Fs were already parked and their two-man crews had gone to mission debrief with the aircraft ferry function that oversaw fighter moves like this.  Turned out that the birds were consuming more fuel than the single seat –D model Thuds, but that made sense because the fuselage of the F-105F was about five feet longer than the F-105D and the tail fin and rudder were taller and larger in area.  In addition, the F-105F was nearly 2000 pounds heavier than the F-105D.  That could be a concern on the next day’s flight from Hickam to Anderson AFB, Guam.  On top of that, the headwinds had been stronger than expected, and the air temperature at cruise altitude had been higher than expected; those factors also resulted in the Thuds consuming more fuel than expected.  The outlook for the next day’s trip to Guam was no more promising.

The pilot decided we need to load more fuel for the trip to Guam, but that was problematic for us because we were getting close to max gross weight for the weather conditions we were facing.  The pilot requested a fuel load that was expected to get us to Guam with no problem, but it would be a long takeoff roll.

After a quick trip into Waikiki Beach to check out what Fort De Russey had to offer, and go look at the (then premier) Royal Hawaiian Hotel, we headed back to Hickam for a fairly early launch.  Next morning we did a joint brief with the Thud crews and ironed out a few details of the mission.  The weather was less accommodating than expected, again, in that air temperatures were still high, and the winds at altitude were even worse than they had been the day before.  We had a major from the fighter ferry group riding along with us as an observer.  It was his first time on a KC-135; he sat in the jump seat between the pilots.

Procedure was planned for both tankers to launch, followed immediately by the four Thuds.  Standard noise abatement procedure for just about all departing aircraft was to initiate a right turn immediately after gear up so as to avoid flying over Waikiki Beach, which was on the runway heading, if you held the runway heading long enough.  It was usually doable, but on that particular day, a combination of air temperature, wind direction, high gross weight, and aircraft under performance caused problems.

We took the runway and the pilot brought up the throttles to takeoff power.  The water injection kicked in just as it should have, and we started our takeoff roll.  The fighter jock observer was used to 5000 foot takeoff rolls; when we rolled past the 5000 foot runway marker and nowhere near rotate speed, he took notice.  As each runway marker went by and we were still accelerating to takeoff speed, the fighter jock observer became more and more concerned.  The end of the runway was looming and we still hadn’t rotated.  The fighter jock observer was trying to get out of the jump seat.  Finally, we had rotation speed as the 1000 foot marker went past.  The KC-135 lumbered off the runway and reluctantly began to climb.  We were supposed to begin a right climbing turn before we reached Sand Island Coast Guard Station; that wasn’t going to happen; we were still trying to accelerate.  We thundered over Sand Island with the water injected engines screaming and spewing black smoke.  I got out of my seat to watch the terrain go by beneath us.  Finally the pilot had enough airspeed to begin a right turn; way beyond where we should have started turning.  I looked out the copilot side window as we passed over Fort De Russey; people were looking up at us as we roared overhead, very low.

After we completed the departure right turn, the pilot called the command post at Hickam to tell them what happened.  They already knew.

We climbed out, headed for Wake Island, about 2000 nautical miles to the west.  The Thuds climbed out behind us and were flying wing formation with us before we leveled off.  After we leveled off and reached a cruise speed of 500 knots true airspeed, the Thuds came in for their first air refueling; all air refueling systems worked and we were on our way.  Johnston Atoll, a little over 700 nautical miles to the southwest of Hickam, was the first abort base for the Thuds after we got too far west of Hickam for a safe return there; then Midway was enroute abort base for a short time as we neared longitude 180.  After that, there was no abort base until Wake Island was within range of the Thuds.

About an hour and a half after departing Hickam we were abeam Johnston Island.  Wake Island lay three hours ahead of us.  Out ahead a huge patch of towering cumulus appeared on the horizon; most appeared to top out above thirty thousand feet.  As we got closer I studied the mass of clouds with radar, trying to find a way around it.  No such luck.  We were cruising at around flight level 270, i.e., well below those the tops of those cumulus.  Only one thing to do: pick our way through the mess.  Fortunately, the clouds had not yet blown up to the point of lowering visibility at our flight level.  There was lots of clear space between the cumulus clouds.  For what seemed like an hour, but probably no longer than twenty or thirty minutes, we turned one way and then another avoiding flying our six aircraft formation into one of those things.  And then we were out of that patch of sky and the way ahead was clear again.  The Thuds took on fuel.  It was still a couple more hours to Wake and then three hours to Guam.  Our fuel state was beginning to look pretty iffy.  The headwinds were still stronger than expected, the cruise altitude air temperature was still higher than expected, and the F-105Fs were still using more fuel than expected.  We also were going to have to refuel the Thuds twice more to get them to Guam. 

Approaching Wake Island, we topped off the Thuds again; the handwriting was on the wall:  someone was going to have to land at Wake to refuel.  The pilot, along with the pilot of the other KC-135, had a radio discussion with the Thud flight leaders.  The Thud flight leaders pleaded with us not to force them to land at Wake.  To do so meant a substantial risk that they would be stuck on Wake for at least a week.  First, the Thuds couldn't reach Guam from Wake without an air refueling, and if any of the Thuds experienced maintenance problems on Wake, help would take days to get there – and there was still the need for an air refueling to get to Guam.  The debate concluded and the pilot decided we would take the Thuds an hour past Wake and top them off at that point.  We would them give them a heading for Guam (which was still two hours away at that point) and they would proceed to land at Anderson AFB.  Both tankers would return to Wake and take on enough fuel to fly to Anderson and continue the mission.

So off we went an hour past Wake – and an hour closer to Guam – gave the Thuds ample margins of fuel for the two hour flight, and turned back for Wake.  Oceanic Control was duly informed of the change of flight plans and we headed back to Wake.  A long enroute descent later we touched down at Wake Island.  First (and only) time I landed on a coral atoll.  


Wake Island is more than one island. The main part of the atoll is crescent shaped, with the runway on the southern-most part of the crescent.  The rest is space for a few buildings, aircraft parking space, some loran radio antennas, some comm radio antennas, and other stuff needed to operate a really remote airport.  We deplaned and got a ride to base ops while the ground crew set about pumping sufficient fuel to get us to Guam with necessary reserves.  The pilot’s first act was to contact the SAC command post at Hickam and inform them of the deviation from plan.  He talked to one of the NCOs; when he passed the news about our deviation he said he could hear the NCO yell to the officer controller that “the fighters are on Guam and the tankers went to Wake.”

We filed a new flight plan to Anderson AFB, Guam, and went back out to the aircraft to wait for completion of the refueling.  What a flat windy place Wake Island is.  I took my camera and took one shot facing east and another facing west.  That’s it.

We boarded the aircraft, cranked engines, and got under way again.  It was a bit under three hours to Guam.  The sun was nearly set when we taxied in and parked.  The Thud jocks were waiting for us with beer and a lot of gratitude.  Things had worked out fairly well, in spite of circumstances.  Tomorrow called for taking the Thuds about half way to Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, giving them full tanks and returning to Guam.  Mission accomplished.

Well, not quite.  Those Thud jocks had been talking to their wing commander about the wonders of the KC-135 and what it could do, including the episode where they were not forced to land at Wake and rot for a week or more.  Further, a plan was hatched to have at least one KC-135 fly to Kadena and provide air refueling training for the whole wing.  SAC was okay with all that.  SAC was at the time developing a forward operating capability at Kadena in order to support B-52s, RC-135s, and KC-135s.  There would also be A-12s and SR-71s but nobody knew that in the spring of 1964.  In any case, one of the two tanker crews was going to get to spend a few days at Kadena providing an awesome experience for every fighter jock who could get on the schedule.

Next morning, as planned, the two KC-135s departed Anderson AFB, followed by four F-105Fs, for the last part of the ferry mission.  About half way along the route, near a coral atoll then named Parece Vela, the four Thuds took on some fuel and departed the tankers for their final destination.  The other tanker crew departed the formation, and we proceeded on to Kadena behind the four Thuds.  When we arrived in the traffic pattern at Kadena the four Thuds were still in the traffic pattern showing off their new toys.  We landed and met with members of the local SAC staff about what was going to happen next.  Basically, no one had any plans for what to do next.  So we checked in with the fighter squadrons to see what they had in mind.

The one overriding objective of a KC-135 being on Okinawa was to provide as many fighter pilots as possible refueling practice with a tanker that could escort them for long distances and provide multiple air refuelings.  The fighter jocks provided us with some charts of the KB-50 “anchors.”  Okay, that was a start, but KB-50s on their best day could not fly at even half the speed of a KC-135 – and the KC-135 flew and refueled at much higher altitudes.  Those puny “anchors” were not going to cut it.  We were making things up as we went along.  In the end, we took off and flew out to a TACAN fix and let the fighters just come up and join with us.  It worked out pretty well.  It was almost the tactics we would be using a year or two later when the war in Southeast Asia started heating up.  Most of the fighters that came to practice on us were F-105Ds because the 18^th Tactical Fighter wing was equipped three squadrons of them.  Along with the Thuds was the 15^th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, equipped with RF-101s.  They would be doing temporary duty in Thailand at places like Takhli and Korat.

The first day we flew two sorties; both sorties saw lots of activity.  At one time we had 26 aircraft waiting to take some fuel or just tagging along with the gaggle.  And there were the show-offs.  One Thud jock took his departure after refueling by executing barrel roll around us.  Another rolled inverted and flew along for several seconds before executing a Split-S away from the gaggle.  One Thud jock tested us:  he wanted to know if we could afford some extra fuel, say, a ten thousand pound onload.  The pilot offered him twenty thousand pounds.  His tanks couldn’t hold twenty thousand pounds.  We also discovered a problem refueling RF-101s.  They had their air refueling receptacle on their dorsal center line about half way between the canopy and the vertical tail.  They had to fly up to some semblance of a contact position and wait for the boomer to plug them.  Not only that, the A/R receptacle was a small target and plugging it was a challenge because the RF-101 pilots had no good reference point to fly off of and were constantly moving around.  Another RF-101 jock pulled into pre-contact position and told the boomer that he had never done an air refueling before and wanted to know what he needed to do.  The suggestion from our end was to try some likely switches and see what happened.  A running commentary from the boomer hinted that the RF-101 jock was trying every switch in the cockpit:  “speed brakes open; they’re close; running lights on; they’re off; A/R receptacle just popped up...”  After the boomer told him the A/R receptacle was open the RF-101 jock reported he had a blue light on his panel.  The boomer told him he was in business and come on in.

We tried to get two sorties a day in for the next couple of days, but stormy weather lead to several cancelled sorties.  As the weekend approached, we made our plans for return to Ellworth.  On a Saturday morning in April we departed Kadena, direct to Hickam; it was an eight and a quarter hour flight.  When we landed at Hickam it would be Friday evening because we had re-crossed the International Date Line and dropped a day.  It was dark when we touched down at Hickam.  The next evening we departed Hickam for Ellsworth.  It had been a busy week.

We didn’t know it then, but our week taking four F-105Fs to Kadena portended what would be a regular occurrence two years hence.  All the tactics published in the SAC Tactical Doctrine that dealt with air refueling fighters was pretty much out the window, at least in a combat environment that was the case.  A combat environment meant lots of adaptation to the demands of the mission and getting the job done.  Innovation counted in so many ways as tactics were developed.  In a combat environment GCI radar sites usually got tanker and fighter formations joined.  The term “anchor” took on a new meaning for everyone involved in air refueling combat loaded fighters.  Large effort missions required all the tankers to have all receivers (fighters) to be in visual contact and heading the same direction at a specified point in space.  Getting the job done and done well was primary.