Standard Arm Finds a Bar Lock

The Hunter

One day in December 1971 I was working at my additional duty as a "fragger" at Fort Apache, i.e., the 388^th  TFW headquarters building.  The secure telephone started its distinctive tinkling sound around 0900 and I walked over to answer it.  The voice on the other end of the line said, "This is general Slay.  I want (some place name I have long forgotten)."  After I took a bit more information I hung up and went over to the Intel shop to find out what that place was that Brigadier General Alton Slay, 7^th Air Force Director of Operations, was so interested in.  The young intel lieutenant I talked to pulled out the TMCAT, aka Tom Cat.  The location turned out to be a Bar Lock site in North Vietnam.  After a bit of discussion I walked over to the mission planning room and found JD Cutter and three other Wild Weasel aircrew getting ready for a sortie.  I told them that Brigadier General Slay has authorized a strike on the Bar Lock site.  However, they were at that time getting some similar, but not the same, information from a young Intel officer who also came into the room about the same time I did.  Since I was otherwise busy, I left them to sort out what they were going to do next and went back to the Frag Shop.

JD Cutter was a pilot I had first met in the 28th Air Refueling Squadron when he was a new arrival copilot.  He wanted to fly fighters in the worst way, but SAC kept a tight rein on air crew and on pilots especially.  The Palace Cobra program allowed him to achieve his dream of being a fighter pilot.  This is his story.

JD:  Our flight was planning a mission that had a scheduled takeoff about three hours away when a lieutenant from ‘Intel’ interrupted us.  We had just been cleared by 7^th Air Force in Saigon to hit GCI…Y – E – S!!!  About damn time!!!  We went about identifying active GCI in a generally broad area of our target and where we were going to do some trolling.  When we finished doing that, the lieutenant from Intel was back with an update.  We could only hit certain types of GCI.  Okay!  It was still good!  We went back to updates to see what we couldn’t hit before we had our general brief, then went into Weasel ops for our flight briefing.  As we broke up to head to the aircraft, that same lieutenant was there to tell us exactly which GCI sites we could hit. YGBSM! (You Gotta Be Shit'n Me!  A famous Wild Weasel expression that was created at the start of the SAM Hunter/Killer program and suitable for all occasions.  Reportedly, it was first uttered by an electronic warfare officer upon first hearing of what they were going to be doing.)

We took off and headed for our pre-strike tanker.  We covered the first TOT and headed for the Gorilla’s Head north of the Fishes Mouth and Barthelmy Pass.  I was headed generally in an East-Northeasterly direction when a Bar Lock started looking at us.  We got excited because it was one on our “hit list” and was a relatively new Russian surveillance radar.  The radar site was about 10 degrees off to the right of our nose and my Bear wanted me to turn right to put it on the nose.  I nixed the idea because I didn’t want to alert the GCI controller to any evil intentions we might have.  I believe initial contact was in the 60+ NM range with a largely fluctuating range meter.

We continued on our present heading driving the GCI site to maybe 20 degrees right of our nose at approximately 50 NM…range meter was still fluctuating, but starting to settle down some.  My Bear was encouraging me to shoot (“SHOOT!  SHOOT! SHOOT!”), but I didn’t like the range.  We went through the same drill all the way down through 40 NM and approaching 30 NM, the range meter was pretty steady.  I had a green missile ready light and was ready to shoot the AGM-78 Standard Arm missile.   A quick double check of my weapons switches and confirmed with the Bear we had a valid GCI site, and I mashed down on the “pickle button”.  The AGM dropped off the right inboard pylon and seconds later came out from under the nose trailing a plume of white smoke and began a climb.

We had estimated a one minute time-of-flight for missile impact, so when we lost the missile BDA (Bomb Damage Assessment) tone after less than 30 seconds, we were disappointed.  After maybe five seconds we reacquired the BDA tone and were reassured.  Just after a minute the BDA tone quit and the Barlock went off the air!!!  YES!  Meanwhile we had begun a gentle turn away from the site.  All was very quiet after missile impact. 

 During debrief we filled out all the necessary paperwork and signal data to go off to Kelly AFB, San Antonio, TX for analysis.  About two months later we received word through our intelligence folks that they had received a Comfy Coat message confirming a kill of the Barlock.  The message further stated that there had been an indigenous team monitoring the site when our missile came in over their heads and blew up the radar.  The indigenous team had been watching the site for a couple days collecting data.  After the explosion they walked into the site and collected equipment, etc for analysis.  They also counted four KIA – all Russians – no North Vietnamese.  “Shit Hot!”  

We got bagged a short time after that so there was never any additional info on the kill.

The Hunted

The story of my shoot down actually began on 16 Feb 72 when we got the “frag” order late in the afternoon.  I was on the schedule to lead a 2-ship Ironhand or “Wild Weasel” mission departing Korat RTAB in support of an RF-4C, call sign “Falcon 21” and four strike F-4Ds from Udorn RTAB.  We would accomplish join up with the F-4s on a Cherry tanker over northeastern Thailand and take on a full load of fuel…roughly 4,000 to 5,000#s (750 gal) each.  We would then proceed across Laos to northern South Vietnam, turn north crossing the DMZ into North Vietnam (Route Pack I) where the F-4Ds would drop 500# Mk-82 GP (general-purpose) bombs and CBU-48 cluster bombs on a SA-2 site that was responsible for shooting down an F-4E Fast FAC the day before.  The RF-4C would lead the strike flight using LORAN navigation and would follow-up with a photo recce run over the destroyed site.  

Riiiight!  At least that was the plan.

First, just a little more background.  The 17 WWS had ‘lost’ a couple IPs (Instructor Pilots) due to rotations and a shootdown, and I knew Rich Freienmuth was a good choice as a replacement IP.  I talked to the Operations Officer about it and suggested I give Rich a no-notice evaluation and IP check the next day by swapping positions in the formation, with Rich leading.  Paperwork for the evaluation could wait.  I had talked to Rich about this and he was all for it.  We worked the schedule change through our schedulers and had the info passed on to the Wing Command Post.  

There was a call time set up to co-ordinate with the strike flight lead utilizing a secure phone in the COMMAND POST.  That turned into a “goat rope”, with me finally taking over the phone conversation from Rich when the F-4 flight lead told us he didn’t need our support.  I finally informed him that we would be in the target area to provide Ironhand support if and when needed, and that we would follow-up the after action report that the “heroes” from Udorn wouldn’t coordinate with us and that ‘they could win the war all by themselves’.  That changed his attitude, but the phone call didn’t end on a friendly note.

While in the COMMAND POST I noticed that the next days sortie schedule was up on the board, and that our flight line-up had not been changed.  I called it to the attention of the NCO on duty and he said he’d take care of it.  I also noticed that our flight, call sign “Junior 1 and Junior 2” was at the top of the schedule board, which required a rolling/sliding ladder to get to it for any changes…I thought, “no big deal!”

Take-off time was scheduled around 0800 local with me as #2 with Ken Fraser as my “Bear” and Rich Freienmuth and Rich McCubbins leading.  We met in combat ops to finish up our mission planning and make one more call to Udorn and the flight lead to iron out any last minute changes.  While in the COMMAND POST I noticed our flight line-up on the board had not been changed but that an arrow had been placed to “reflect” the swap in flight lead.  I thought at the time that a quick look at the board by anyone and they probably wouldn’t pick up on the change.

We finished our flight planning and the mass wing flight briefing…weather, enemy AAA and SAM activity, Rules of Engagement, Escape and Evasion, and anything else, but nothing unusual came up.  We briefed our flight and how we’d handle things with “Falcon 76” (5-ship) pertaining to the formation on the KC-135 tanker, enroute across Laos to the target area and our weasel formation to protect them and cover one another.  As we departed PE (Personal Equipment) where I got my survival vest, helmet, weapon (.38 caliber Combat Special) that went in a shoulder holster as part of the vest, water bottles and parachute…I’d leave my wallet and any valuables in an individual lockable container. 

About that time the COMMAND POST hotline phone started ringing.  I answered it and was told our flight was on a weather hold.  We (including the “spare” crew) wandered over to the squadron with all our gear anticipating a short wait.  The squadron was dead quiet due to the early hour so we lay around the lounge and grabbed 30 winks.  As the activity increased we decided we should get some breakfast at the O’Club.  I alerted the COMMAND POST as to our intentions, and borrowed the squadron jeep.  I remember dutifully to call the COMMAND POST when we got to the club and when we departed.  I also remember paying for at least one of the guy’s breakfast because he didn’t have any money…left his wallet at PE.  I carried a plastic tobacco pouch with me that had my USAF ID card, Geneva Convention Card, International Shot Record, a blank check and some US and Thai money just in the event of diversions or emergencies.  It had already come in handy a couple times.

As we walked back into the squadron the COMMAND POST hotline phone started ringing.  I grabbed it and the voice on the other end said: “Junior, launch ASAP”.  We grabbed our gear and headed out to the jets (which we hadn’t been to yet).  I grabbed one last pee and headed out to my Thud thinking I wish I’d gone out and dropped my gear off earlier.  I hooked up my parachute, checked the aircraft forms, and told my “bear” to get strapped in, that I would pre-flight the ordnance and the jet.  I accomplished a quick pre-flight and was strapped in by the time my “Bear” was ready.  I got the battery switch on and checked the lights; etc…gave a signal to the crew chief standing in front of the revetment to pass on to the flight lead’s crew chief that we were ready.  I acknowledged check-in right after that and we went to ground control for start.  We got through the ‘Before Taxi’ checks and taxied out without any delays, through “last chance” and arming…visual signal between aircraft to tower frequency approaching RWY 08.  We were cleared “On and Hold RWY 08”, then cleared for takeoff as we finished lining up on the active,.  We got the canopies closed and ran the throttle up to MIL.  As the engine came up to 104% RPM I made one last check of “Speed brakes – In, Flaps - Takeoff setting, Ejection seat pins- Removed, Canopy - Down and Locked with a visual check of “Hooks Over Rollers”, Engine instruments looked good and in the Green; thumbs up to #1 that I was good to go.  I heard his engine sound change as he selected burner and released brakes.  I had started my countdown to brake release…usually 15 or 20 second spacing for single-ship takeoffs.  As the 15 to 20 seconds approached, I selected A/B, held the brakes to a count of three and released brakes…got an instantaneous bump with the burner light...engine instruments in the ‘green’ with EPR in the bug, EGT was good, selected water injection with a subsequent green light and slight rise in EGT.  Yes!  We’re on our way…good line speed check at the 2000-foot marker – somewhere in the 100-knot area.  Takeoff speed was around 185 knots with takeoff distance 8000 feet plus, gear up with a positive rate of climb and engine instruments looking good, flaps up at 240 knots minimum…leave the burner in until around 450 to 500 knots to expedite join-up.

I had a technique to expedite join-up by leaving the burner in with a very slow rate of climb.  As I got to my 450 to 500 knots I’d climb at a rate that would hold that speed; then as the lead aircraft got just about directly overhead, I’d pull the nose up to keep lead in that same spot using the “Mark one eyeball,” MIL power while keeping an eye on airspeed because I knew lead was at 350 knots; and pop up in “Route Formation” (2 to 4 ship widths), then into close formation.  I loved it!

We joined with Cherry tanker, but held off topping off the tanks.  Once we were in a rendezvous with Falcon 76 we’d top off so Falcon could get on the boom right off…but nothing from Falcon.  I finally asked Rich about checking with GCI on Falcon…tanker said they’d check for us.  We finally found out from GCI that Falcon 76 was still on the ground at Udorn with a maintenance problem.  We were on Cherry tanker for an hour before we heard Falcon was airborne.  Fifteen minutes later we’re still wondering where they were.  Another check with GCI and we discover they’re on a Peach tanker 50 miles north of us.  We topped off again and headed for Peach tanker and Falcon.  I distinctly remember going straight over to “Invert Control” (GCI at Nakhon Phanom) and requesting heading and distance to Peach tanker and Falcon 76.  Invert came back with “Do you want Peach tanker or Falcon 76???”  Lead asked if they weren’t “Holding Hands” (in formation together)?  Invert said Falcon 76 was across the “Fence” (Mekong River) inbound!  YGBSM!!!

My eyeballs went out to around one o’clock and I spotted a black smoke trail that I figured should be Falcon 76.  Lead was in a right turn and I was able to get his eyes on Falcon.  We were in MIL power, descending slowly while accelerating to 500 knots chasing Falcon 76 across Laos.  We finally closed on Falcon heading southeasterly as they approached the now abandoned Khe Sanh MCAF.  I could see we were really ‘eating’ Falcon, and when I couldn’t stand it any more, I asked Falcon what their speed was…300 knots… we were doing 450 knots; that’s over 200 knots True Airspeed overtake.  Talk about “Eating them like a grape!”  I know what Rich is doing and my power is in idle already with the “boards” (speed brakes) coming out in stages to maintain my position on #1 as we come up on either side of Falcon flight…a 5-ship in “V” route formation.  I felt like a bird slowing down with its wings flapping and its head back, while standing on its tail.  It was almost comical, but I was pissed at the same time… stupid mistake, and in front of Phantom pukes.  Most of it occurred behind them so it wasn’t as bad since they couldn’t see us very well.  Thuds/Weasels had a lot of pride!

We pressed on like this for maybe a minute, and when I couldn’t stand it any more I said “Falcon 76, Junior, ‘Push It Up! We don’t fly this slow in a threat environment!’”  We did NOT fly this slow in a SAM threat area.  Dumb!  So they pushed it up to 350 knots…YGBSM!  We made a slow turn to the left, circumnavigating Khe Sanh.  As we rolled out northbound…I was on the left looking across the flight, and could see what appeared to be a SAM cloud that couldn’t have been very old.  It didn’t appear to have hit anything because of its color…light tan/yellow.  I checked my radio to see if I had Guard channel (243.0 UHF) receiver selected…I did.  Nobody had heard any SAM calls…so what happened?  The SAM cloud was just hanging there and was mostly intact with only light winds.  The F-4s had spread to a loose route but as we crossed over the DMZ northbound, I called for Falcon 76 to “Push It Up”, I don’t fly this slow up here!  Rich and I spread out into our weasel formation to protect the strike flight as we got to 400 knots…minimum speed for us up here.  I liked at least 450 knots…permits instant maneuvering and ‘G’ available.

Falcon 77 had briefed to release their ordnance from the RF-4C LORAN coordinates, and then make a hard turn to the east, egressing RP-1 “feet wet” over the Gulf of Tonkin.  Flight Lead, Junior 01, would come back around and we’d weasel our way westbound across North Vietnam to Laos.  I watched Falcon go into a slight descent, but didn’t see any bombs come off their aircraft, and then suddenly they started a climbing left turn to the west.  Rich had already turned east and was going to buttonhook back around, but about halfway through the Phantoms left turn, a Fansong radar came up with me in its cross-hairs. I had a “3-ringer” at 11:30 on my APR-36 scope; an E/F band light and blinking launch light on my APR-37; an “AS” (Azimuth-Sector) light, that we called the “Aw Shit” light, which meant we were in the crosshairs of his “track-while scan” Fansong radar; an E/F light and launch light on the ALR-42 receiver; and a screaming receiver from the AGM-45 Shrike Missile warhead/antennae I had selected.  I was outboard into burner (on the throttle) before I even had time to absorb the lights and what was going on. 

On the ground there’s a 3-5 second delay before the burner lights, but airborne there’s a 5-7 second delay in the sequencing of the speed brake petals, engine nozzles and hot streak ignition of the fuel as it’s pumped into the AB section.

I push the nose over to negative G since the missile is coming up under the left side of the aircraft nose as I anticipate the burner light.  I can’t see the missile but start a hard break down and to the right.  Unfortunately, as I start the roll/break turn I see the detonation flash of the missile in front of the right wing.  I feel this tremendous concussion as the explosion tries to tear off my head.  I can’t see anything but feel like the control stick has gone limp in my right hand…as if I can pull the stick out and throw it away.  I have the sensation of being able to see through the right side of the cockpit over the right console to the outside.  I am aware of losing consciousness and try to say “Get Out Ken!”  I don’t think my mouth was still connected to my brain, so nothing came out.  My brain feels like a switchboard operator pulling all the plugs out of an old time switchboard.  I reach down with both hands, pull up the ejection seat handles and squeeze both triggers.  I never heard or felt Ken’s canopy or ejection seat fire, or my canopy or ejection seat fire.  Note: If Ken initiates ejection, only his canopy and seat go.  If I initiate ejection the ejection is sequenced with his canopy and seat going, followed by my canopy and seat going.  This prevents the seats/canopies from colliding.  Fortunately for the both of us everything worked automatically after I squeezed the triggers.  Ken doesn’t think he ever pulled the handles or squeezed the triggers.  I’m unconscious when I leave the aircraft and estimate my speed at over 500 knots indicated airspeed.  That’s definitely over 550 knots true airspeed, and it rips me a new one.  I’m sure I flail badly since I dislocate both my shoulders…can’t raise my arms above shoulder level for a week.  I have shrapnel wounds to the right side of my face and scalp, and powder burns down to my upper chest.  I have five broken teeth to start that I know of.

POW

I regain consciousness roughly 2 - 4 hours later in the bottom of a fishing boat on what I think is a river out of the coastal fishing village of Dong Hoi, North Vietnam.  There’s “almost a medic” working on the right side of my face and scalp…“almost a doctor” is in a white smock at my feet.  It’s like coming out of a deep sleep.  “Almost a doc” sees me coming around and says something to me in Vietnamese, which I don’t understand.  He then asks me if I speak French.  Something like “Parlez vous Francais?”  I shake my head no and he responds with “Je sui le doctor!”  I nod my understanding!  “Almost a medic” is picking shrapnel out of my face and scalp, then applying a couple bandages when “almost a doctor says “Novocain!”, but with a French accent.   I open my eyes as “almost a medic” plunges what seemed like a gigantic syringe into my check bone.  That’s the first pain I remember feeling…

The fishing boat, which is more like a large row boat, seems to meander around, stopping (hiding) under trees occasionally.  I don’t hear any aircraft, but the “V” are obviously playing it safe.  I’m in and out of consciousness, but am aware of the boat eventually sliding ashore.  I can hear this rumbling like sound but have no idea what it is.  One of the “V” motions for me to get up from on my back in the bottom of the boat, but I’m unable to without help.  The guard sees my dilemma and jerks me to an upright position, forces me over and ties my elbows behind my back, which in turn forces me further forward at the hips.  The noise I’d heard previously intensifies before I realize it’s a 500 - 1,000 peasant workforce on the riverbank and dike system.  I walk down this narrow board held up by crossed bamboo poles to the shore.  The crowd is getting noisier and threatening, but I’m in a state of shock and not totally into it.  The crowd throws what I believe is rocks so I keep my head down with my face protected as much as possible.  There’s a guard in front of and another behind me, and eventually the guard in front of me gets hit with a rock/dirt clod… he threatens the crowd by brandishing his rifle in the air.  The threat doesn’t seem to have any effect on them.

We press on to the very steep embankment of the dike and the guards push and pull me to the top.  I really have no recollection of that part of the “event” other than just that.  We are now standing on top of the dike at the lowered tailgate of this large military truck where the truck bed is above my eye level. The guard motions me to get in!  YGBSM!  I make a very weak and futile attempt to raise my leg up to the stirrup and the guard sees the futility of it.  One guard grabs my leg out from under me and puts it in the stirrup while the other one catches my back and they literally throw me up and into the bed of the truck.  They tie me to the back of the cab and somewhere after that I untie myself.  They find me like that asleep/unconscious and they get physical with me.  I remember getting hit with a rifle across the chest/arm, but not much else.  I was pretty much out of it and numb.  Is that the same thing???  Probably ‘shock’.

It’s after dark now and I’m conscious of walking down a trail with what seem to be thousands of fireflies…turns out to be flashlights.  There are two other POWs that I eventually identify as my ‘Bear’, Ken Fraser and an F-4D WSO named Ed Hawley out of Udorn RTAB.  I don’t know where or what has happened to Ed’s pilot…discover later that he’s KIA, but don’t know the circumstances.  We are separated and taken to underground concrete bunkers.  I have no idea how I’ve gotten here or what has happened in the interim.

I climbed down through a hole in the corner of a bunker and am ordered to stand in front of a small desk with two Vietnamese in uniform without rank.  I have no idea if they are officers or NCOs.  I was asked in separate questions my name, rank and serial number, and then they got into specifics about type aircraft, base, wing, mission, etc.  I kept giving them name, rank and serial number until I got bored and realized the idiocy of the whole thing…and just shut up.  I forgot all about Date Of Birth.  I may really sound brave but I was scared shitless.  I estimated that I had been unconscious for up to 4 - 6 hours and had no idea what had happened to me between being tied to the back of the truck cab and walking down the trail in the dark.

After a few minutes the interrogator gets pissed at my silence and says:  “You are in very serious trouble for violating the airspace of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam!”  I couldn’t believe it.  I remember it very clearly to this day.  My eyes rolled up into my head in disbelief.  His reaction was to be instantly really pissed…gave me a really hard stare and ordered me to stand against the back wall of the bunker.  I felt that I was in really deep shit now, but I’m half numb and in shock.  While I was standing against the back wall (maybe 8 ft away) there wondering what was next…what are they going to do to me now.  I suddenly realize I really have to take a whiz!!!  So how am I going to tell this guy I just pissed off that I ‘gotta’ take a whiz?  I could see his anger as he jabbered with the other guy, so do I say: “I need to go to the bathroom.”  Or “I gotta take a leak.” or I need to pee.”  I didn’t have a clue and didn’t want to piss him off any more than I already had.  He was really ranting and raving there for a minute.  Later on I realized I had beaten him at his own game and that he had really lost face when he got so upset and pissed.  Believe me when I say that I had no intention of pissing him off and that I had no clue as to what I was doing.  I was just taking one step at a time and not trying to be a smart-ass.  I was really terrified, but tried to put up a ‘do-nothing, say-nothing’ front.  I could honestly see them taking me out and shooting me because the guy was so pissed off.  But, I still gotta piss.  After what seemed like an eternity he pointed at the corner where we’d come in and said something I didn’t understand.  I stepped over to the corner and a guard stepped up on dirt piled in the corner and climbed up through the opening.  Another guard followed, both with bolt-action rifles, and not ‘AK’s.  I got maybe 10 steps away and start peeing.  I looked around and neither guard was watching me…not that I could get away.  They just don’t appear to want to watch me while I’m peeing.  I feel like I peed forever before we go back into the bunker.  Eventually the guy I thought was in charge gets tired of this and needs to press on so we leave via the truck.  I remember very little after that.

As it turns out Ed Hawley had first seen me and my Bear on stretchers with a blanket over us in what we think was the fishing village of Dong Hoi.  Ed was looking for his pilot and didn’t recognize us.  Ed was burned about the wrists, neck and face from sitting in a pool of burning jet fuel in the RCP (Rear Cockpit) while trying to eject.  The Phantom was in a violent flat spin and Ed was having a hard time getting to the lower ejection ring.  He doesn’t have any idea how he ejected, but thinks his pilot initiated ejection right before the jet hit the ground.  Ed doesn’t believe his pilot ever got out because of the close proximity to the ground.  Ed remembers having a good chute and a couple swings before hitting the ground.  Neither Ken nor I have any recollection of the event where Ed saw us on the stretchers.

I have no recollection of what happened after this until we crossed what I think was the Vinh or Thanh Hoa Bridge.  I had no idea how we got across other than I believe we walked, but now we’re riding in a jeep…with a driver, NCO/Officer, 2 guards and 3 POWs…all in one small jeep.  We were sitting on some of our survival gear/parachutes and the two guards were hanging on the outside/rear of the jeep in a standing position.  The two guards rode that way for the remaining 200 or so miles to Hanoi.  During this delay and transfer, I remember being very thirsty and having to pee again.  Then Ken, who’s totally out of it, says “water, water!”  That’s all Ken said on our journey to Hanoi.  I pee and the guard gives us some water and a “cereal bar” which the three of us share.  I really don’t remember anything more except being in severe pain all 400 miles to Hanoi.  We were sitting on the metal bed of the jeep with our legs out in front of us.  I had Ken’s legs draped over mine at a 90-degree angle and they were heavy.  I remember Ken was in some kind of a body cast with his left arm sticking out to the front as if pointing.  As it turns out he had a fractured left elbow from hitting the canopy rail after I punched him out.  He had no recollection of anything including our mission and the first week of solitary.  He told me that one day he found himself wandering around his cell and momentarily wondered where he was.  I told him later that I wished I’d been there to tell him.

After our roughly 1600 arrival at the Hanoi Hilton, we were separated and put into individual cells in New Guy Village where we spent the next month.  To my knowledge I was never in Heartbreak, but next to it.  During this time I was initially interrogated on a regular basis, but not daily; received a minimal amount of medical attention and constantly but subtly threatened.  I had no contact with any outside guards or other POWs other than the interrogators and “Smiley” who I believe was one of the higher ups at the Hilton.  The guards put my food on the floor just inside my cell door, but behind a curtain.  I never saw them during this time because of the curtain and a hood…and always handcuffed.  I was unable to eat except for some sugar, warm sweet milk and the inside of what I called French bread.  This was due to my broken teeth and cut up mouth, but I just wasn’t hungry and had no desire to eat.  The body just shuts down.  I believe a Chinese officer that spoke no English interrogated me one time.  While in solitary I virtually had no sleep, but catnapped.  I had injuries to my head, face, tailbone, five broken teeth, both shoulders dislocated and sore hips, mostly from the shootdown, ejection and capture.  I had extensive bruising from head to toe and was very stiff and sore.  I did empty Ken and Ed’s buckets and washed their clothing a couple times a week when I was taken to the wash area.

After a month the three of us were transferred with hoods over our head and handcuffed in the front, to the Zoo in southwest Hanoi.  Whenever a POW was moved around in the prison system they were always hooded and cuffed, especially if you were outside the prison camp.  That’s the way all POW’s were moved.  Whenever you were interrogated or quizzed, you had to have on long clothing…no bare arms or legs.

Epilogue

James Dickenson Cutter was repatriated in March of 1973, having spent a little over thirteen months as a prisoner of war in Hanoi.  After medical treatment he went back on flying status and completed his Air Force career flying fighters.  He flew his final mission last September, 2015.

Anti-Interventionism

What do you do when some foreign power wages war against you in an unorthodox manner?  Here I am thinking of Ho Chi Minh and his attempt over a quarter century to conquer all of Southeast Asia.  Yes, he did try to do that, but for all the blood and destruction he managed only Vietnam and Laos.  He was stopped at the Mekong River.

What do you do when some group of imports, that are the residue of some past imperial days, are busily waging war against your culture, your history, and your values?

I am betting that the Goths, Visigoths, Huns, and all the rest never bothered to declare war on Imperial Rome; they simply showed up and went to work with what became, I guess, creative destruction.

Sure as Hell, ISIS (or ISIL or whatever they now call themselves) don't fit into a pattern that might be deemed a formal declaration of War; they simply show up, start lopping off heads, and impose their macabre form of justice.

Operation Chrome Dome

In 1960, Strategic Air Command began an operation called Chrome Dome; it was a plan that kept a number of nuclear-armed B-52s on airborne alert.  The logic for the plan was that it would discourage the Soviet Union from even contemplating, let alone carrying out, a surprise nuclear attack against the United States and its allies.  About a year later, in 1961, another operation to supplement Chrome Dome was begun:  operation Hard Head.  Operation Hard Head called for a nuclear-armed B-52 to orbit in the vicinity of Thule Air Force Base, Greenland, so as to keep a visual watch on the Thule BMEWS site, which was located some six nautical miles east-northeast of Thule AFB.  If the Thule BMEWS site were to be attacked, the B-52 crew would make a report to SAC Headquarters by any electronic means available.

Operation Chrome Dome itself involved several B-52s flying sorties about 24 hours in duration along two routes.  The Northern Route ran up the eastern coast of North America, through the Nares Strait between Ellesmere Island and Greenland, up to about 85º north latitude and then southwestward to Barter Island, Alaska.  The B-52s took air refuelings just off the eastern United States in the vicinity of Cape Cod and
again over eastern Alaska in the vicinity of Fort Yukon.  From there the B-52s flew a route along the western coast of North America and returned to their departure bases.  Another route, the Southern Route, departed the eastern United States on a route that took the B-52s to the northwestern corner of the Iberian Peninsula, where they received air refueling, and then on into the Mediterranean Sea to the Adriatic Sea; the return route took the B-52s over the southern coast of Spain for a second air refueling, and then a return to their departure bases.

Air Refueling

The air refuelings were conducted by KC-135s temporarily deployed to Eielson AFB, Alaska, about 26 miles southeast of Fairbanks, Alaska.  There were also KC-135s deployed to Torrejon Air Base and to Moron Air Base, both located in Spain.  Early on, the first air refueling on the Northern Route was conducted by KC-135s deployed to Griffiss AFB, New York, but that practice was abandoned and the air refueling was simply conducted by permanently assigned KC-135s in the northeastern United States.

I supported Operation Chrome Dome from both Eielson AFB and from Torrejon AB.  I also deployed once to Griffiss AFB in January 1962.  The deployment to Torrejon was a pleasure trip; the deployment to Eielson was, in the summer months, tolerable duty; however, winter flying from Eielson was a test of men and equipment.  During the winter months the air temperature routinely hovered around -25º F.  Everything was cold soaked and it was hard to warm the aircraft up after they had sat idle for more than a few hours.  Hydraulic leaks were common as seals hardened and cracked.  Windows, especially cockpit windows often broke as the intense cold caused the aluminum window frames to contract and overstress the window panes.

The routine for deployed tanker crews was to conduct several air refuelings on the Cold Coffee route, which ran from Fort Yukon straight south to a point abeam Big Delta, Alaska.  The B-52s would receive an onload of about 100,000 pounds of fuel in about 20 minutes.  The bombers would then proceed along their planned route to their home base, after some six or seven hours more of flying time.  The tankers cleared the Cold Coffee air refueling track to the right and made an immediate descent and landing at Eielson AFB.  If the pace of operations warranted, the tanker crews could make one or two more air refueling sorties on the Cold Coffee Route before calling it a day.

There was also at least one Hard Head sortie, which meant that the tanker crew would fly to the vicinity of Thule Air Base, Greenland and refuel a B-52 assigned to keep watch on the Thule BMEWS radar site.  It was a boring job.  If for any reason the B-52 was unable to take on sufficient fuel or had other problems that warranted aborting the sortie, the tanker crew was required to perform the Thule Monitor mission until relieved by the next B-52 coming from the United States.  I flew exactly two Hard Head sorties on my two deployments to Eielson; the first, done in daylight, went as planned.  The second, done in the February darkness of mid-winter was not quite as smooth but we got the fuel offloaded and didn't have to fly the Thule Monitor mission.  Those who did fly Thule Monitor told me that it was one of the most boring things they have ever done.

The Hard Head Route

The Hard Head route was flown twice daily:  the first takeoff was at 0800 Alaska time and the second one departed twelve hours later at 2000 local time.  The sortie lasted about 8½ hours.  The outbound route involved flying out to Fort Yukon VORTAC and then direct to Thule TACAN; it was pretty much a great circle line of flight from Eielson to Thule.  Once in the vicinity of Thule the bomber and tanker made a point-parallel rendezvous and the tanker offloaded about 85,000 pounds of fuel to the bomber.  The tanker return route to Eielson was slightly offset from the outbound route and flown at an altitude of 41,000 feet in order to extend the tanker range to maximum.

The route was pretty easy navigation in the summer months.  That far north, we had to use grid navigation techniques to steer, since the route of flight took us almost over the North Magnetic Pole; thus the magnetic compass was unreliable.  The route was over the Canadian Arctic islands, which are pretty rugged, and most of the islands stood out well against the various inlets and straits that are part of the Arctic Ocean.

Navigation was mainly by ground mapping radar with only a 45 minute over water leg between Herschel Island on the Canadian coast and Banks Island, which was a radar checkpoint.  Then it was just a matter of fixing off of the islands all the way to Thule.  Not only that, but it was daylight all day long that far north so even if the radar failed you could still visually identify the islands passing below.  There was lots of open water and everything appeared as it was depicted on the navigation charts.  That was in the summer.  Winter time was a different story.  The next time I flew that route was the following February and the islands mostly disappeared in the frozen expanse that the Arctic Ocean became in mid-winter.  It took some careful radar scope reading and maybe a bit of imagination to pick the shape of the islands out amid all the sea ice of the now frozen inlets and straits.  It was also dark for all but a couple of hours of twilight at Eielson; further north on the Hard Head route the only light at any hour came from stars and aurora borealis.

The Real Deal

My first Hard Head sortie came on August 15, 1962; we were the 2000 launch.  All Chrome Dome and Hard Head sorties were heavy weight takeoffs; the objective was to give the receivers as much fuel as they needed to complete their missions.  That meant a takeoff roll of around 10,000 feet on a runway with a total length of 14,400 feet and a sluggish rate of climb until the KC-135 accelerated to best climb speed.  That was no time to have a problem with the engines.

My flight records show 8½ hours of flying time – all in daylight.  Since it was daylight I had my 35mm camera along and took several shots of the terrain that we flew over.  I wish I had shot more pictures, especially of the Humboldt Glacier which begins some 140 nautical miles north of Thule.  Several large icebergs were visible in the waters of Nares Strait.  It was an impressive sight looking out of the copilot's side window; on radar, I estimated the face of the glacier to be some 70 nautical miles wide.  Digging out my slides from over 50 years ago I find that I have some shots of the Canadian Islands on our outbound leg and some more shots of the Canadian part of the Brooks Mountain Range on our return to Eielson.

Melville Island

Melville Island south coast on a summer day

After passing over the northern edge of Banks Island the next checkpoint was Melville Island.  Banks Island is a roughly rectangular land mass about 200 by 100 nautical miles.  There aren't many prominent terrain features to fix off of.  Melville Island is just the opposite with deeply cut fjords and a rugged coastline.  And then there was two curious features on the northern end of the Sabine Peninsula that looked for all the world like impact craters.  I discovered decades later that they are, in fact, naturally occurring salt domes that had collapsed.

Bathurst Island

Lots of open water with some sea ice in the straits

Bathurst Island and its adjoining smaller islands, all separated by narrow straits, are every bit as rugged as Melville Island and just as deeply cut with fjords.  Some low clouds hung over part of the island as we passed by.

Ellesmere Island

After passing over the extreme northwestern tip of Devon Island our route of flight took us over the southern end of Ellesmere Island and our last radar checkpoint before making our rendezvous and air refueling with the B-52 out there somewhere keeping watch over the Thule BMEWS radar.  We were already in UHF radio contact the receiver while still over

The Nares Strait

Ellesmere Island and completed our rendezvous some 60 nautical miles west of Thule Air Base.  Then it was a twenty minute flight up the Nares Strait offloading fuel to the receiver.  Having completed the key part of our mission, the B-52 went on its way and we began a climbing left turn the took us on our return route to Eielson AFB.

RTB (Return to Base)

The flight back was pretty much the same scenery we had seen on the way out, just oriented 180º from the view we had of it two or three hours earlier.  All during our sortie the Distant Early Warning (DEW Line) radar sites had been silently monitoring our progress.  The DEW Line sites were in communication with US command centers via land lines, and Headquarters SAC was one of the command centers on the communications network.  The system was known as Green Pine.  The radars at Cape Parry and Tuktoyaktuk were the closest sites to our route of flight.  As we passed Banks Island we were back over open water and the nondescript Canadian coastline had few discernible features to fix off of so the pilot called the Cape Parry site and requested a position.  After a few minutes Cape Parry came back with a set of coordinates and a time they were taken.  The position from Cape Parry agreed pretty much with where I calculated our position to be.

The Brooks Mountain Range

Closing in on the Canadian coastline, we could see the eastern end of the Brooks Mountain Range where it extended into Canada.  They were white with snow and the coastline was a jumble of ice floes stacked up for a few miles out to sea.  It is about 0400 in Fairbanks when the picture was taken; the sun is low on the horizon and east is to the left.  Winter soon would be back to that part of the world.  On the south side of the Brooks range it was still summer with all the mosquitoes and

The Yukon River

muskeg.  The Yukon River became visible and we were given clearance to begin our descent into Eielson.  It was 0430 on August 16 and the sun was shining brightly above the mountains to the southeast of Eielson.  I was sitting in the jump seat between the two pilots, watching the world go by as we descended.  I happened to be looking out the pilot's windscreen when something struck the windscreen with a loud THUMP.  I glanced at the pilot's altimeter and saw that we were passing through 25,000 feet.  The spot on the windscreen was a smear of blood and feathers and about the size of a golf ball.  I still wonder what kind of bird flies at 25,000 feet over northern Alaska.

Just past midsummer, the air temperature around Eielson was well above freezing, although the nights required a light jacket.  Looking down on terrain as we descended to final approach altitude, the small fishing villages stood out on the banks of the Tanana River and you could see
that preparations for winter were in full swing as the local tribes worked to gather fish to feed their dogs over winter.

Ashcan 01

On this day in 1971 the Wild Weasel squadron at Korat lost one of their aircraft to North Vietnamese SA-2 missiles.  One man survived.  One did not.  His remains never have been recovered.

I had arrived at Korat only a little over two months before Ashcan 01 was shot down near Mu Gia Pass.  I had completed my theater orientation and had pretty well gotten used to the routine of supporting B-52 strikes against the Ho Chi Minh Trail and trolling for radar signals up and down The Trail.  It was a time of relative quiet in the war in Southeast Asia (it never was just about Vietnam).  Things were about to change, however.

The war I came to know was almost exclusively in the part of Laos known as Steel Tiger.  It was the part of the so-called Ho Chi Minh Trail that fed war materiel to the North Vietnamese divisions prowling around southern Laos and South Vietnam.  The 42nd TEWS, to which I was assigned, flew the EB-66E and EB-66C.  Mainly, we provided jamming against the SA-2 SAMs and radar directed anti-aircraft guns the North Vietnamese used to protect their Ho Chi Minh Trail supply line.  Some of those radar directed guns could reach above the altitudes the EB-66s flew at.  Tchépone, also known as Muang Xépôn, was a kind of materiel depot in the middle of nowhere and it was one of those heavily defended spot on The Trail.

The passes leading from North Vietnam into Laos were just as important as any way point in Laos.  Mu Gia, Ban Karai, and Ban Raving passes all were major roadways along the route into South Vietnam and southern Laos.  The passes were defended not just by anti-aircraft guns; SAMs also covered those critical passes.  There were other passes that led from North Vietnam into Laos: Nape and Barthelemy passes, but they were conduits that the North Vietnamese used to conduct another aspect of their war in northern Laos.

As the winter of 1971 approached the North Vietnamese began asserting themselves around the passes.  A few EB-66s supporting strikes around the passes were fired on by SAMs.  There was sufficient warning of missile launches and all aircraft evaded the SAMs by performing "SAM breaks" down and away from the direction of the attacking missile site.  At the same time, the Wild Weasel crews engaged the SAMs because they had to transmit in order to guide their missiles; that made them vulnerable to counter-attack by the missiles the Wild Weasels carried. We flew as a coordinated support package with the F-105G Wild Weasels, also based at Korat.  Our job was to jam SAM and gun radars; the Wild Weasels were there to provide some muscle to the package.  They were armed with one AGM-78 Standard ARM (Anti-Radiation Missile) and two AGM-45 Shrikes.  The Standard ARM was a more sophisticated version of the Shrike.  We were supposed to remain outside the 20 nautical mile "kill ring" that the SA-2s were deemed to have.  The Wild Weasels, however, could and did fly right down the throats of any SAM crews they had to defend against.

What follows is an account of events by Wild Weasel pilot extraordinaire, JD Cutter.  I had known JD when he was a copilot on a KC-135 six or so years earlier.  Somewhere along the line since those early days, he had slipped loose from SAC via a program called Palace Cobra and had gotten a fighter slot.  Our paths crossed again when I got to Korat.  JD had already been there for several months.  JD's recollections follow:

 I think Marty Noel was my wingman and we stirred up a hornets' nest at Mu Gia Pass.  After the first BUF (B-52) drop at Ban Raving we made a pass north through Route Pack I and exited NVN north of Mu Gia Pass.  There were nibbles of Fan Song (missile fire control radar) but they didn't stay on the air long.  Eventually I wound up with, as best I can recall, three Fan Songs tracking me sequentially.  They went off the air (stopped transmitting) just as I was about to fire a Shrike.

We exited to the north of Mu Gia for a Cherry or Peach tanker and passed words to Cricket or Hillsboro (Airborne Battlefield Command Control Center, aka, ABCCC) about the nibbles of Fan Song.  After getting a top off from a tanker, we came back to the DMZ and trolled northbound to see if we could get any activity before the BUF drop at Mu Gia.  Nothing.  All was quiet.  The BUFs were dropping in 'Alpha' box (Mu Gia Pass) so our run was in-trail from the west, eastbound,  over the mountains.  I was in the lead, Marty was maybe 5 miles behind me, and the BUFs were offset about 5 miles to the south on a parallel track.  Just past their time on target (TOT) the first Fan Song came up with a SAM in the air almost immediately.  The BUFs went ballistic and went into a SAM break down and to the right (south).  Somewhere in the melee I fired two Shrikes and dodged two SAMs.  There was a low overcast and I saw the SAMs come through the clouds tracking me.  My SAM break was more of a high 'G' turn because of the short range to the site rather than a classic SAM break that let me avoid the SAMs.  I remember the SAMs going by which let me get my head back outside quickly...good thing.

Somewhere in the melee Marty jettisoned everything.  We were now headed west and RTBd (Returned To Base).

As we walked into Ft Apache (wing headquarters at Korat), we met the two crews of Ashcan flight (Ashcan 01:  Maj Bob Belli/Lt Col Scott McIntire and Ashcan 02:  Capt Jimmie Boyd/EWO unknown) who were heading out to their jets.  We stood there in front of the latrine and told them what happened, frequency, PRF, location, and as much other information as we knew.  Their tactics supporting the BUF strike consisted of flying through Mu Gia pass from the north (Belli) and from the south (Boyd).  Belli got zapped by SAMs right off...end of story, except for the SAR (rescue effort).  Belli was extracted the next morning.  Scotty was killed.  Belli had a broken arm and leg, along with numerous other injuries. He reported the SAM had rendered him unconscious, and when he regained consciousness he was in the surface based clouds, and punched out immediately. His chute reportedly never did fully deploy but finished deploying from the bag as he was going through the top of the jungle canopy. He was lying on the ground, badly injured, partly in his parachute harness; the harness had burst open as he fell through the trees. When the PJs got to him he needed assistance to get to and get on the penetrator.

My recollections:

That morning I happened to be working one of the first shifts in my additional duty at what was known as the Frag Shop.  The wing command post, which was just a door and a wall away, rang our hotline to inform us that Ashcan 01 had been shot down and SAR was under way.  Things evolved quickly with reports from the SAR effort around Mu Gia Pass.  Ashcan 02 reported "Winchester" (all ordinance expended) and was going to RTB.  The two EB-66s on station were reporting multiple SAM launches at the rescue force.  They needed additional air refueling support to remain on station so we in the Frag Shop worked out a tanker rotation and passed it along to Blue Chip (7th Air Force Command Center at Ton Son Nhut Air Base, Vietnam).  One of the EB-66s landed at NKP (Nakhon Phanom Air Base, Thailand) to refuel and return to the SAR.  The weather wasn't good that day and low clouds and high winds were hampering the rescue effort.  Finally, it was reported that one of the OV-10 Pave Nail FACs had gotten a position on Belli.  Belli was the only downed crew member they had radio contact with.  Belli reported that he was pretty badly injured and partly out of his parachute harness.  He could not move and would need a PJ to get him out his predicament.  Belli reported hearing noises of what he assumed to be North Vietnamese soldiers.  Finally, late in the afternoon, it was decided to continue the SAR at first light the next morning.  The SAR forces "put the survivor to bed" and "sanitized" the immediate area around him with area denial munitions.

I was back in the Frag Shop the next morning.  Word came in that Belli had been rescued and that McIntire had been spotted hanging in his parachute harness in a tall tree.  The word we had was from the flight surgeon who was on the Jolly Green that pulled Belli out.  After the PJs got Belli into the chopper, they spotted Scotty close by hanging limp in a tree.  The flight surgeon, looking at McIntire through binoculars, said, "In my professional opinion that man is dead."  The Jolly Green left in really bad weather conditions.  Later in the day, two of the Jolly Greens from NKP did a low pass over our runway at Korat and landed.  From what I was told, Belli was on board.  He would eventually be transferred from Korat to a better equipped hospital.

When they tried to recover the remains the next day or so, Scotty was gone.  From the report I recall reading, the entire tree that McIntire had been hanging in had been cut down.

A Day That Will Live in Infamy

Like the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington Cemetery, the Memorial to the Battleship Arizona is one of those places you should visit if you can. Many years ago I saw it the first time when I was passing through Hickam AFB on my way to duty in the Western Pacific. Back then the US Navy ran the whole show. There was a pilot boat that could take a small number of visitors out to the Memorial. Even though all of us were active military the sailors who took us out stressed that this was a tomb and a solemn place. Reverence was in order.

Nowadays the shore facility is run by the National Park Service and is a quite elaborate pavilion with memorabilia from the USS Arizona, along with several displays and dioramas depicting the scenes of that day, now sixty-eight years ago. Just before you are taken out to the Memorial, now on a much larger boat than I rode out on the first time I saw it, you are shown a fifteen minute video explanation of the events that lead up to the attack on Pearl Harbor and other military bases on Oahu.  Then you are taken out to the Memorial.

While the National Park Service runs the on-shore part of the Memorial, the US Navy still owns Pearl Harbor, and it is a Navy operated boat that shuttles visitors to and from the Memorial.  They still stress that this is a tomb and a solemn place, but the reverence is not what it once was, especially among the numerous Japanese visitors to the site.  The sailors who run the boat shuttle do what they can to maintain decorum, and the tone among visitors is generally subdued and reverent.

The Memorial spans the USS Arizona at about where the bridge once was.  There are the remains of the 16" gun turrets at or just above the water line on either side of the Memorial.  Looking down into the water on just about any day, you can see globs of bunker oil from the ship still slowly oozing to the surface.  It is feared that some day, when the ship has decayed enough, whatever fuel remains inside the ship will spill into Pearl Harbor. 

At the far end of the Memorial is a shrine, literally, to the men who died on the Arizona.  Their names are carved on white marble slabs that line the far end of the chapel.  A low marble railing separates visitors from the slabs themselves, unlike the Vietnam Memorial where visitors can walk up and touch the slabs.  In the tradition of Hawaii, there are many leis left as a kind of personal offering to those who are entombed there.  If you look carefully at the names on those slabs you can get a glimpse of the scope of the tragedy some families endured that day.  Back then it was Navy custom to allow family members to serve on the same ship simultaneously, so you see a list of brothers, and sometimes, fathers and sons, who went down with the USS Arizona.

There is even a tradition, if you will, that the survivors of the Arizona's death that day can be buried with their ship mates when their days are done.  Their cremated remains are lowered into the hulk.

In recent years another ship that played a large part in the Pacific War now sits at anchor in Pearl Harbor.  It is the USS Missouri.  When you look out from the on shore pavilion it is almost as if the Mighty Mo is standing sentry over the Memorial.  The Missouri is operated as a museum by a private foundation.  Lots of retired US Navy and retired military people from other services volunteer to work there and support the visitor traffic that pass through that ship.  Access to it is from Ford Island, and that is US Navy property.  There still are sensitive things going on around there, so the Navy is sensitive about people shooting pictures of anything and everything in the area.  Still, it's hard to miss something like an attack boat that is headed out to sea.

In 2004 we took our daughter and her family with us on a winter visit to Hawaii.  We made sure that visiting the Arizona Memorial was on the list of things to do.  The two granddaughters were not yet teenagers, but they took in everything about the Memorial.  Looking at the dioramas and models, the youngest granddaughter, especially, had lots of questions.  We went through the pavilion, saw the fifteen minute video, went out to the Memorial, and returned to shore.  As we were walking off the boat youngest granddaughter told me that she didn't like those nasty Japanese.  I told her that all those events took place a long time ago and that things were different now.  Then I took her over to where we could see the Memorial and the Mighty Mo together.  I told her that in another day or so we were going to take a trip out that big gray ship out there and she was going to see where Imperial Japan surrendered, ending World War II.

Social Security

At least once a week I get an e-mail with claims about the Social Security System.  Almost invariably the claims are so far from reality as to be ludicrous.  But people believe the claims because they don't know any better.  With that thought in mind, here are some pertinent facts about "Social Security."

Social Security is, and always has been, a wealth transfer system.  It takes wealth from the working young and transfers it to old farts like you and me.  There is no investment aspect to Social Security; whatever taxes are taken in from FICA are immediately paid out to all the old farts (and some not so old farts).

The Social Security Trust Fund is an accounting gimmick.  It is a myth.  The Social Security Trust Fund was created to justify increasing the FICA tax rate to, allegedly, fund expected future shortfalls in Social Security funding.  That's a crock.  The federal government did a simple trick:  The Treasury issued a special issue of bonds to the Social Security Administration to account for the extra FICA revenues not used by the Social Security Administration and added the excess tax collected to the general fund.  That, of course, was spent.  That special issue of Treasury bonds is nothing but IOUs.

Contrary to common belief, Social Security is not just the Old Age benefit that is usually referred to.  There are four components to Social Security:  (1) The Old Age Benefit; (2) The Disability Benefit; (3) The Survivors Benefit; (4) Medicare.  The FICA taxes collected go out as payments to all four of those components.  The main problem is that over time the federal government, SPECIFICALLY, THE US CONGRESS, has gotten more and more generous (but then that's what happens when you're spending other peoples' money).  Worse than that, the number of recipients of the Disability Benefit has ballooned as lawyers have gotten into the business of suing on behalf of people who don't really qualify for the benefit.  The simple definition for the Disability Benefit used to be that the disabled person was unable to do ANY USEFUL WORK.  Lawyers and judges have corrupted that and driven the system deeper into insolvency.

The FICA tax rate has not always been 15%; it used to be much lower.  It has crept up over the decades as THE US CONGRESS has gotten more and more generous with other peoples' money.  In addition to that, since Social Security payments are based employment, the employers pony up another 15% payment into FICA.  If you happen to be self employed you get to pay BOTH sides of FICA.

Comments about Social Security payment not being benefits are totally false; the claim is being made by people who knows nothing factual about the Social Security System.  Social Security payments are technically indemnification because they were originally intended to be part of an insurance scheme.  Ever wonder what the acronym FICA stands for?  It stands for Federal Insurance Contributions Act.  Note that second word:  Insurance.  The system was designed from the start to be indemnification for the risk of growing too old to work.  The other components came later to cover the risks of becoming permanently disabled and dying during one's working years.  The justification for Medicare is a lot more murky, but politicians being what they are, in 1965 (when Lyndon Johnson was president and Democrats ruled Congress) the US CONGRESS came up with the justification that most medical care goes to those who are old and not very capable of working.

Note that indemnifications are not supposed to be taxed.  Indemnifications restore one to an economic position before a loss occurred.  Therefore they are not taxed.  Note that you don't pay tax on any insurance payments made to you after you suffer a loss., whether the indemnification is from an auto policy, a homeonwers policy, a life insurance policy, or any other kind of private insurance.  The Old Age Benefit of Social Security used to be that way.  Politicians, Democrats in particular but some Republicans also, decided in the 1980s that the Old Age Benefit should be taxed.  That action may have started the notion that Old Age Benefits are earned income.  They are not.

Finally, the Social Security System, in case you missed it before, is a pay-as-you-go system.  The FICA revenues collected go right back out again as benefit payments of Social Security recipients (except for whatever excess goes to the Treasury general fund).  If this were a private plan, THE US CONGRESS would demand that it be FULLY FUNDED.  The term FULLY FUNDED means that there must be sufficient funds available at all times to be able to pay the present value of all legitimate claims on the system.  Not so the Social Security System.  The justification for the initial setup was that, first, the federal government can use its taxing power to cover any shortfalls, and, second, there were a lot more workers than beneficiaries of the Social Security System.  That is no longer the case.  The UNFUNDED part of Social Security grows larger every day.

Once, during the ten years or so that I taught the subject of Social Security at University of Nebraska, Lincoln, one of the former chief actuaries of the Social Security Administration came on campus and gave an hour long discussion on the Social Security System.  He focused on how it originated and how it was set up.  A lot of actuaries from the insurance companies in/around Lincoln Nebraska were in attendance.  The revelations made in that hour stunned those actuaries.  When they walked out of the hall I heard several actuaries talking among themselves.  They kept saying, "It's pay-as-you-go!"  They were stunned because to them a pay-as-you-go system was not only not acceptable under government rules, it was unthinkable from an actuarial point of view.

That is what THE US CONGRESS has bestowed on us.