Profile 74: "Francie" as flown by Lt. Harold Snow

To my regular readers:  I'm still here.

54 days ago, I took on a weighty project of writing and publishing the bio of Hank Snow.  It was a surprise, really - I never expected to do it, even though I've done a number of the man's combat aircraft.

Circumstances being what they've been, I've had to move quickly and focus on a lot of artwork, a lot of writing, a lot of research...and somewhere in there, I had Thanksgiving and now, Christmas.

Suffice it to state, Hank's book is coming along nicely, it should be done shortly and I've done a bunch of artwork for it too.  It'll be first published for Apple iPad, then Amazon Kindle and the Barnes & Noble Nook.  I might do a traditional printing but only for PR gifts as it seems the best way to tell Hank's story is through the digital platform.  This is all well and good provided the power doesn't go out.  (Joke).

I hope it's all worth everyone's time - gawd knows a whole lot of people have invested so much into this story and it's up to me to tell it right.

Anyway, have a look at Francie!

Would you believe this is the SECOND time I've done this aircraft?  The first was nearly ten years ago and looking back, it was highly inaccurate.  Even this one has a dubious note or two - namely the serial number - but all in all, this one is the best.

Now, have a look at the photo below.  It may look like a frame from a gun camera still but it's not.  The photo is actually from a Recon P-51 called an F-6 and it shows the results of an attack by a flight of 528th Mustangs (of which Hank was one).

What you're seeing is in all likelihood the aftermath of the destruction of a Japanese locomotive atop a bridge that spanned a series of rice paddies.   The importance of Japanese rail lines in China can't be overstated.  Considering the expanse of China itself, getting items from Point A to Point B was always a primary issue for any kind of movement.  So, it made sense that one of the sought-out targets was a train.

I asked Hank about this a few years ago and he explained to me that the Japanese held China from the center of a rail line to 25' out either side.  After that, it was wild country controlled by Communist rebels, National military and a bewildering number of feudal-type war lords that controlled chunks of turf.

The 528th's daily record for train "kills" was 18.   In talking with other squadron members, 9, 11 and 14 were also hit on other days.  Can you imagine the benefit of eliminating 40 or so vital supply lines to the enemy?!

We're talkin' that the Dragon Flys (the 528th's mascot) reduced hundreds, if not more, train cars of supplies and troops from the Japanese!  I can't prove it but the raw impact of the 528th on the Japanese Army's ability to make war had to be strong.

Anyway, there's so much more to come, I can't come close to even hinting.  So, bear with me, and gear up to learn about a fantastic military career.

Profile 73: "870" as flown by Hank Snow, 173rd Airborne

Behold the Cessna 0-1 "Bird Dog."  I've skipped the pencil-to-print progress shots because I've simply had no time.  This particular opportunity popped up on the radar and I had to move. 

It's a long story...

But, on looks alone, the O-1 is a sweet little airplane,  even with the military paint scheme. Paint it yellow and she'd look so pretty on a grass airstrip.  And then there's that aw-shucks nickname; it's easy to visualize a cute little puppy painted on the cowling as nose art. 

Don't be fooled.  This is a bad ass warbird. And "870" was flown by a bad ass warrior.  And today, he's nearing the age of 90. 

You know, I've written this blog post at least ten times.  And deleted same.  In one attempt, I describe the role of the Forward Air Controler (FAC) in Vietnam, another the changing mode of technology...and none have satisfied until I this morning when I sat down with my friend Rick (LEO, Navy) and he reminded me, "History is about people.  Not stuff."

Thank you Rick, for the wake-up call.   I'll restart.

I first met Hank ten years ago at a reunion of a WW2 fighter squadron.  These guys were the rough and tumble type that you'd imagine - back-slapping, loud hollers, scotch-fueled braggadocio - basically, the kind of buddies any man would you'd love to hang with.  And, I was at the bar with Earl Ashworth, Bill Creech, "Doc" Perrit.  Why me?!  I could do something they couldn't - I could fly a PENCIL.

I was so outclassed.  But, Creech was buying and no one had kicked me out of the conversation...

...and (I don't know how, but)  the stories wound up to a challenge, "Who's the greatest fighter pilot that ever lived?"

Bullshit came to bullshit, bravado topped bravado.   But a few moments later, the conversation quieted when Earl pointed over at Hank (talking to the girls, one happened to be my wife) and Earl - in his 80 year old fashion said, "Hank.  Hank's the greatest fighter pilot.  No doubt."

Bill and Doc looked over, paused a moment and in resignation or affirmation - I don't know -  raised their glasses.   

Bill?  Doc?  These guys alone were giants.  One had hacked his way out of a Burmese jungle, the other built his own airplane in his garage.  Yet, they tipped their drinks toward the big-chinned guy who looked like Bob Parr in the movie, "The Incredibles."

Right then, I wanted to know, "Who the hell is Hank Snow?!"

Tomorrow, I take-off to get what will likely be my last interview with the man.

I'll leave you with this; Hank flew P-51s in WW2, F-51s in Korea, F-86s in Korea, O-1 Bird Dogs in Vietnam, F-105s in Vietnam... 3 wars, 666 missions.  I'll write it again for effect - 3 wars, 666 missions. 

Look. I know there's some Bird Dog pilots who are waiting for a great story about Hank and the 0-1 but you're going to have to wait.  This story is just too huge for a blog post.

In the meantime, that's Hank on the right, Air Force Liaison Offer for the 173rd Airborne, Vietnam.

I hope to be done by Christmas.

Final Flight: George McGovern, 455th BG

Today, the world lost "One of the Good Ones."

George McGovern - U.S. politician, social servant and WW2 bomber pilot has died.

Undoubtedly, prominent people around the world will weigh in.  George had a giant life - war hero, statesman, international figure, candidate for "the world's most powerful office,"... and, according to my mom, was "a gawd-damned Democrat!"

That's how I learned he was a man of significance.  Mom didn't swear unless it was really important.

This is awkward because I feel compelled to write something but also realize that my experiences with George are insignificant in comparison...

So, I'll tell this story.

George and I were at a Ruby Tuesday having lunch.  I announced that "I'm buying," and he picked up the colorful drink menu, and flashed the wry smile of a gambler who realized he'd found a rube.  "You having anything?"  I reply, "No" because it's like, two in the afternoon.

The server arrived - young, sparkling with pins and buttons; knowing the appetizer of the day but having no clue who she's waiting on. George picked up the menu and pointed to this beautifully photographed blue concoction.  Only judging by the photo, it wasn't so much a drink as it was an event.
Chances are good you're familiar with the offering - thirty years ago, you'd get to keep the glass and the little umbrella.  And the drink's name ends with a ™ symbol.

"That." he says, pointing to the picture.  He lowered his head, peeked over the top of his glasses and asked/stated  "You're having something?"  He grins - and suddenly, it dawns on me that George McGovern is giving me...well, I hate to say this, but...he's giving me shit!  "Loosen up," he says and leans back into the vinyl booth.

I got the joke;  I then saw myself as I'd been, rigid, professional, uptight,  my notebook out, my pen at ready...George wasn't out for an interview.  He was out for lunch.

"I'll have a glass of wine."

"Good."  And then he picked up the lunch menu and pointed at the picture of what he wanted. "I'll have that." The server took her notes, glanced at me and I nodded, "Fine.  Me too."

So, I thought - Ok, if that's the way he wants it, I'll play ball.   I broke the conversational bread by announcing, "My mom is flipping in her grave right now that I'm having lunch with you."

It didn't phase him.  "Yes.  I've heard that one before.  But you want to know something?  Times change."  And, he removed his cell phone from his suit coat pocket.  Fumbling with the keypad, focusing his glasses, he squinted, scrunched his nose and finally presented the device to me.

There, illuminated in blue and white was a telephone number.  "That's Bob Dole's number.  Shall we call him?"

"WHAT?!"

The server presented our drinks - mine a foul smelling house wine and George's, a beautiful blueish sculpture that maked me realize I missed out.  "You're kidding me!"  I exclaim, gulping a mouthful of my awful red swill.  He sips his blue whatever™.

"Bob is one of my best friends.  Can you imagine that?"  He smiled. Warmly.  "He and I work with Food for Peace.  We agree that kids need a good meal."  He took another sip and raised his glass as if to toast.

It was at that moment, right then and there, I became a McGovernite.  Not necessarily in belief but out of sheer respect for a Warrior who - quoting William Wallace's dad in the movie, Braveheart could "use (his) mind first (before resorting to the sword)."

George McGovern and Bob Dole.  Buddies.  And because they could agree that something could be bigger and more important than both of them.

Damn.  Wouldn't such single-mindedness between differing minds be nice right now?

Lunch was long.  He recalled WW2 bombing missions, the 1972 presidential election, the unfortunate power of advertising agencies - it was so cool to be talking to someone that was so there at such pivotal times in American history.

Anyway, mom - wherever you are in the eternal ether,  George McGovern may have been a damned Democrat.  But "Gawd" damned?

No.  I think God blessed him just fine.

Blue skies, George...

Original post here.

Profile 72: FINISHED - LGM-25C Titan II missile

It's..."The Titan II."

Having just re-watched the bizarrely hilarious movie, "Raising Arizona," Tex Cobb's character of the Apocalyptic Motorcycle Rider came to mind.

If missiles were people, The Titan II would be him; the biggest, dirtiest, meanest rider of the Cold War.

Ok - think about the Titan II this way; it delivered a 9 megaton nuke that generated a fireball of approximately 3/4 of a mile WIDE.

And, if you need to get your head around that, go outside your front door, imagine 3 blocks east, west, north, south and know that the fireball would be a little bigger than that.  We're talking metal-melting heat alone. (The radiation and blast effects are mere icing on the cake, but they reach-out an additional 10 miles).

Make you nervous?

Forget about it. The Titan II's days are gone.  The 308th Strategic Missile Wing (SMW) at Little Rock AFB, Arkansas gave the Titan II its last salute on August 18, 1987.  But while it lasted, the Titan II reigned as Dark Lord.

Here are some interesting talking points about the Titan II:

• The Titan II's propellant - a cocktail of dinitrogen tetroxide and hydrazine - ignited by itself when mixed.  No need for a fuse, a spark or a match.   This process is called "hypergolic."

• Once the "keys were turned" and the launch sequence started, the Titan II took another 55-ish seconds to launch.

• From key-turn to impact, a Titan II completed its mission in just over 30 minutes.

• The 9-megaton warhead in the Titan II was the largest carried by an American ICBM.

• The Titan II was likely the most deadly ICBM never used - at least 55 people died in accidents centered around the missile's complicated fuel delivery system.  One accident on Sept. 20, 1980 resulted in the nuke warhead being blown clear out of the silo!

• The Titan II wasn't completely warlike.  It was also used to launch the Gemini spaceflights (with a different payload, of course).

The bullet points are interesting trivia, but focusing on them misses the point that these missiles were wholly inert without human Genesis and management.  And for me, the human-side of these missiles reigns as paramount.

This past week, I had coffee with a Missileer.*  I shared my observation that one word was mentioned/written/spoken more often than I'd noticed in service people of other eras and other branches of military service.  The word?  "Professionalism."

"We had it drilled into us," another wrote.  And another made it clear that the mass of responsibility was worn as part of the uniform.  And yet another Missileer has stated that he knows many now-obsolete national secrets but he will hold onto them out of sheer respect to the profession.

Though the nuances of sentiment may differ, they all seem to agree on that word, professionalism.

And it's a mysterious word, too.  In discussion, the things that exactly define what professionalism means become deeply personal and hard to qualify.  Unfortunately, I'm no help.   But I did manage to write this quote from a Crew Commander that I think helps sum-up how Missileers valued their work:

"I was surrounded by people that did not want to fail."  

Have a look at the graphic I did showing Titan II's guarding the Arkansas state capitol building.  Maybe you picked up on the macabre irony of how our government is founded on the principle of "checks and balances."

It was an accident - my original intent was simply to provide an entertaining way to show the size of the beast against a relatively common landmark - this one paying homage to the fact that Titan II's made their home in Arkansas.

But looking on it, I wonder if the Arkansas state government - heck, our federal system, too! - is run by people who "do not want to fail."

I wonder...

Of course, having one's finger on the key to nuclear armageddon does raise the stakes a bit beyond politics as usual.

Hmmm.  Maybe our politicians should spend some time as Missileers...?

Next up:  The Titan I.

*Missileers are also tending to be more reluctant than any other vets to go on-record.

NOTE:  It's finished, but not.  The Missileer that sponsored this one has graciously pointed out a number of errors and given me the blessing to take a few days off to get my head re-centered.  From this tiny illustration, you probably won't know the difference.  But this Titan II will hang on Missleer walls and I want to make sure it's as good as I can make it.

Profile 71: FINISHED - LGM-30F Minuteman II missile

The missile above is the LGM-30F, "Minuteman II" ICBM.

And it is...amazing. No. Not just amazing. It's OMG!

What?  Not getting the vibe? Hearing crickets chirp in the background?

I get it.  No one cares.

But have another look. Please?  Have another peek at the poor Minuteman II ICBM.  Imagine the big guy, setting in the cold silo, waiting in the black for his tragic, suicidal run to Russia...

Still don't care? I get that, too.  Hell, I'll be blunt - until recently, the only missiles I thought about at all where the $15 ones that my kids launched and subsequently lost.

But since I did this missile's younger brother, the sleeker, slightly-taller LGM-30G "Minuteman III," I've come to see the ICBM as an amazingly ironic device - able to keep peace via a deafening roar.

Here.  Recognize what we're dealing with...

     Fact:  The LGM-30F had a range of 7,000 miles.
               That's the distance between Los Angeles and Hong Kong.
   
    Fact:  The LGM-30F flew at 15,000 miles per hour.
              That's Los Angeles to New York in less than 15 minutes.
   
    Fact:  The LGM-30F hit supersonic speed BEFORE it cleared the silo!
               That's 0-750mph in about 80 feet.

     Fact:   At it's maximum, 450 LGM-30Fs were "on alert."
                And those are just Minuteman IIs.  There were others, too.

     And  - Fact:  The LGM-30F was accurate on an Olympic level.
                Check the map below.

Ok.  Have another look.   This time, unpack all the facts above and replace them with the one supreme piece of knowledge...

         Fact:  The LGM-30F was designed, built, maintained and operated
                   by people.  And not "ordinary" people.  These people don't
                   can't make mistakes.

Stick with me - I've got at least 5 more missiles to do.  We're going to learn more about the missiles themselves but most importantly, we're going to learn about "those people" in charge with the care and feeding of these ironic birds: The Missileers.

Next up - the GIGANTIC Titan II!

PROFILES 71-77: BEGINNING - The Missileer Project

To regular readers - I have a little explaining to do.

You've noticed that this isn't an "airplane." It's a missile. And not the kind that people launch at Cub Scout meetings - this is the kind that turns modern man back into a caveman. At least that's what some people think. No one knows actually because they've never been used.*

This is - in the common vernacular - "A nuke."

Gawd-forbid, right?

Anyway - formally, their names are Atlas, Titan, Minuteman, Peacekeeper, Trident...and I'm going to draw them as part of a "crowd-funded" project that I'm calling, "The Missileers - the Warriors that Didn't."

There will be at least 7, maybe 9 depending upon and I'll be posting their progress here; sharing stories of the Missileers, their Missiles and documenting this incredible aspect of human history.

Hopefully, I'll be done in 6-9 weeks. In the meantime, I hope this is as interesting to you as it is to me! And - if you want a Nuke to hang on your wall, click on the RocketHub logo at the top left of this blog and show your support. Who knows? The more people that put "The End of the World As We Know It" on the wall, more ridiculous the idea will become.

In the meantime, I'm half-way into the Minuteman II (above), finished with the Minuteman III (below) and eyeing the Titan II next.

3...2...1.... DUCK AND COVER!

*Yet.

Profile 70: BEGINNING - B-52G of the 77th BS (sort of)

It's begun, (gulp)...

If you've never seen one take off and fly, it's an awesome sight.

Gangly, huge and wickedly lined, the thing smokes its way across the sky;  a defiant, angry pterodactyl soaring for a fight.  Last week, such an experience happened to me and I caught myself holding my breath as if not to attract her awful attention.  I would have been tempted to look away had it not been so awesome. 

There is no doubt; the B-52 is a war bird of the darkest order.

And the one I'll be doing is one of a dark time, too - Cambodia, 1973.

This project will be delicate as it exposes the difficulty of learning history through sound-bites and movies alone. Controversy abounds, duty prevails and somehow, the most unimaginable evil of the 20th Century will still rise out of a land that felt the whole of the B-52's fury.

This is war.

(gulp)

Photo:  U.S. Air Force, Tech. Sgt. Robert J. Horstman

Profile 68: FINAL - F-4E Phantom as flown by the 334th TFS

Done!

I'm surprised, too as I never really wanted to jump into the Vietnam era on account of this particular airplane;  the F-4 was too complex, too big to really look good on paper and too ubiquitous - by avoiding the era, I'd avoid the problem!

But, I was certainly wrong.  Instead, the Fighting Eagle's Phantom is truly Sierra Hotel, even if I spent almost as much time figuring out the ECM pod as I did the rest of the airplane!

Anyway, 'you wanna' hear a war story?  It's a quick one...

(inhale)

A little boy comes home to his mom after a day of school.  Mom's waiting and notices - as moms do - that something's not quite right with her son.  Puffy eyes, a furrowed brow - all the signs of a kid who's had a terrible day.  So, she asks and the tears begin.

You can imagine the scene - mom drops to her knee, takes her kid into her arms and asks, "What's wrong, honey?"

"Dad's at war!"  The boy exclaims.  "In Vietnam!"

The mom consoles her son with a hug.  "Yes.  Yes he is.  But he'll be ok...."

"But he's dropping bombs on kids like me!  My teacher told me!"

***

Uh...yeah.

I really wrestled with this post as two things are weighing in the balance.  The first is the legacy of the 334th Tactical Fighter Squadron.  The second is the legacy of the era.

Let me explain.

The story above comes from the wife of Colonel Crawford Shockley.  He's the pilot mentioned in the artwork.  She's the mom who had to love the venom out of the school teacher's bite.  Not just for her boy, but for her husband as well.  It's a sad story; I've told it to a number of people over the past couple days including a High School teacher and the reaction has been a universal sneer of disgust at the teacher.

"How could she do that to a little kid!"

This moment became all-the-more important when I asked "Shock" if I could have a look at his Silver Star certificate.  He replied "yes" but also used the word, "reluctantly."

Over the years, I've picked up on the natural humility of highly noted warriors.  I "get" the idea that they're sensitive to misrepresentation, especially the embarrassment of misapplied heroics.  And, true to form, Shock let me know that his deed was not heroic but merely following through on what he believed to be the right course of action.*

However, I felt the need to poke a little more and got the most unexpected statement.  "Well, we weren't exactly welcomed home, you know."

Ah yes.  "Vietnam."  It's not just about the airplane but the era.

Welcome to 1972.

That was 40 years ago.

Thank gawd times have changed.

Right?

Think about this.  Regardless of our beliefs, I think all of humanity can agree that "Ignorance" has killed and harmed more people than any other force.  But Ignorance also has an antidote that is shockingly easy to apply - Knowledge.

I think back on those times and wonder how on earth such a prejudice could be applied to people who by obligation (draft or enlistment) answered a civic expectation?!

Of course you agree - hindsight is 20:20.  But do you care on betting that such a wave of silliness won't  taint the waters again?  Ha.

Would you mind having another look at my F-4?  Only this time, don't just stop at the glance.  And don't just settle on the unsettling demonstration photo.   Do your brain a favor and check out a few books on the start of the Vietnam situation.  I suggest this one (click here).

Knowledge is expensive - it requires time and energy but it's a fine bulwark against the forces of group-think and ignorant emotion.

Originally, I planned this post as an honorarium to Col. Shockley for being awarded the Silver Star.  The story is rich in personal risk, teamwork (salute to WSO "Poobah") and individual accountability - these are the virtues that create the wealth and security that (most of us) desire.

Instead, I dedicate it to Lilly Shockley - mother of boys, wife of a fighter pilot and unfortunately, the Front Line in a culture war.  Lilly, I am sooo sorry you had to bear that awful moment.

So, let's leave Lilly on a better note - the photo below is Shock's homecoming. It truly is good to be home, isn't it?

There's a silver lining to this story in that we live in a nation where dip-stick teachers can spout their swill ad lib.  Think about this - what if you - you - were so afraid of your government that you didn't dare breathe otherwise?

In that spirit, I look at the Fighting Eagles of the 334th and consider this F-4E Phantom to be among my proudest moments.

P.S.  - Crawford Shockley's Silver Star cert is below.  I hope you read it.  It's the military recognition of a Dad looking out for "his other boys."

P.S.S. - To that teacher of 1972 - wherever you are, I hope you went back to school.  To learn.


*Shock did get his WSO's (the guy in the back seat) blessing before committing to sticking around the hot zone for the downed airmen.  In every conversation I've had with Shock, he's mentioned Larry "Poobah" Henry and remains grateful for his trust and excellent skill.