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

Now it's finally starting to look like something!   And we're so close to finishing that the next post will be the final.

In the meantime, there's something I'd like you to notice. It's the "Fighting Eagle" emblem on the air intake cover just below the WSO's seat.

It's pretty cool that the logo is even there at all as it was actually designed in 1943.   See, the 334th's unit lineage traces back to the 4th Fighter Group of WW2 and one of Walt Disney's artists created the emblem as part of the studio's "war effort."  That's not so remarkable - Disney did a fair number of logos/mascots for military units fighting overseas.  What IS remarkable is the fact that it persisted for so long.  Well, at least in a fashion.

Below are images of the original sketch and the period-correct versions. I mean no offense to the guy(s) who painted the later renderings but it's pretty clear something got lost in translation.  One of the 334th guys joked about their version as, "The Puking Pigeon."

Yeah, I laughed too.

I'm not here to criticize a guy's copying skills.  Instead, this is a great opportunity to see how stuff can change over time.  Kind of like how history gets reported, interpreted and passed on.

There's a whole generation of people who's sole experience with the Vietnam War is through other people's interpretations.  Of course, this is going to happen as people don't live forever.  Last year, four WW2 fighter pilots I know took their "final flight," leaving their memories behind in the scattered minds of those who knew them.  The originals are simply gone.

I know a guy who lost his leg "over there" and I asked him how realistic the popular movies on Vietnam really were. He got a big kick out of my question - "You're going to learn about what I went through from a movie?!"

The more I learn about Vietnam, the more I realize that the broad strokes painted for me by others are no more accurate than looking at a single still-frame image from a film.  My buddy is right.  For most, however, that's all they'll get - an entertaining moment about a conflict that spanned nearly 30 years!  


You've probably figured out that I think History needs to be a greater portion of our school's curriculum than it is now.


Anyway... back to the Eagle.

So far, the hand-off of history from Disney to me has taken 70 years.  Now's a good time to have another look at the pencil sketch - can you believe how far it's come?!   And now that we're embedded into the internet cosmos, the Eagle will likely fly another 70 years.  (That'll be the year 2082 in case you're not quick with math.)

For the time being, however, the Vietnam War remains "new" to me - the equipment, the experiences...everything.  I'm especially grateful for experiences like this one as now that I know more, I realize how little I knew then. Though there's an element of The Obvious in that statement, it's important because I don't want my sole history lesson to come from Hollywood.

When I first started this F-4, and knew I had to render the Eagle, I noticed immediately the distance between its WW2 purity and cruder 1972 form - and of course, made all the ironic conclusions that you probably have, too.

But I have to state this. I no longer look at the Eagle and see a logo.  Nor do I see the changes in time and tide.  Instead, I see squadron commander Colonel Crawford Shockley and the people he lovingly calls, "His boys."

Come back for the final post, ok?  It's an image of The Vietnam War you need to read.

Disney image source:  fourthfightergroup.com.  Photographs courtesy Crawford Shockley, Chuck Coffman.

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

Here she is, as she was about 2 nights ago but be warned - THERE ARE TWO MAJOR FLAWS in this rendition!  They will be corrected, but since they're going away, I'll leave it to you to find them.

Anyway...

Every airplane I do comes to the table with its own party of people, experiences, history... I never know what to expect other than that each will be unique.  This F-4 is especially so in that it's not just one man weighing in but many.

It's like this - all the other airplanes here are short stories.  But this one is a collection.

When I wrote the prior post about the 334th's mission of "flying chaff," it touched off a chain of reactions among The Fighting Eagles (as they're called) that was remarkable.  Though all were of good cheer, I got the impression that the Chaff missions were loathed.  And if you keep reading, you'll learn why.

Dean Failor, a Weapon System Officer (WSO) on a 334th F-4, just emailed me a recollection of such a Chaff mission. It's remarkable on many levels, especially considering he was essentially riding in a violent roller coaster in the dark.

Hold on...

Chaff Mission

This is a story of a night, three ship chaff mission laying a corridor for B-52s during Linebacker I in 1972.  Three SA-2s were shot at us and all three should have hit us.  The mission had an eerie feeling about it from the very beginning of the briefing.  Problems included target location, aircraft problems, altitude of mission execution, and differing opinions on tactics. 

The target was in the vicinity of Vinh, North Vietnam.  Vinh was a heavily defended transshipment point on the coast about half way between the DMZ and Hanoi to the north.  The main threat was SA-2 surface to air missiles (SAMS).  SAMs were always a threat, but the enemy had been employing tactics such as dummy radars and multiple sites firing at one aircraft.  I figured the chance of outmaneuvering one missile was 90%, two missiles 50% and three 10%.  That is if we saw them.  If you were maneuvering against missiles from one site, they could launch one at you from another site and you might not see it.  As you maneuvered against one missile, your energy or what we called smash would be bled off.  This would make it very hard to maneuver against other missiles.  The idea was that most missiles were defeated by out turning them.  If you were lucky it would stall out and tumble.  I never saw one do this, but that was the theory.  All of the ones I saw miss, seemed to explode above one’s altitude.  I figured our jammers were doing that.

The aircraft assigned to us was one that had a bad jamming pod the night before.  Maintenance couldn’t duplicate the malfunction so we were to fly it again.  It was loaded on our left side, which would be the left side of the formation where we were to fly.  We requested to be put on the right side of the formation away from the threat, but did not get permission.  In addition, it was decided to make a hard, 45 degree bank turn to the east when past the target area to egress quickly over the water.  Discussions included making several 15 degree bank check turns instead of the 45 degree bank turn, the theory was that the jamming would stay more effective and that we could better check below us for missile launches.  In a hard right turn, it was impossible to see below to the left where the threat would be from.  The decision was made to make the faster, 45 degree bank turn.  Better to get out of the threat area as fast as possible.

 Start up, taxi and take-off was uneventful.  As a crew, neither of us said anything extra except what was needed to get aircraft airborne.  This was a bit unusual.  We were good friends and both of us had over 300 missions by this point in time.  I wasn’t even asking to fly the aircraft like I usually did.  After the pre-strike tanker rendezvous and refueling we proceeded to the east to below the DMZ and then turned north on our heading to Vinh.  Cockpit lighting was adjusted and tape put over bright lights that would detract night vision.  The Radar Warning Receiver (RHAW) was turned on and adjusted to compensate for jamming noise from jammer.  The AC concentrated on keeping the three lights and dim strip lights in sight to maintain the pod formation.  I concentrated on threats and navigation.  The wild ride into bad guy country was about to begin.  I figured they had about 4 minutes to kill us.  They knew where we were heading and that we were on the leading edge of our chaff spewing out the back.

We were now at approximately 30,000 feet at 310 IAS (Indicated Airspeed) and about Mach 1.1.    Our chaff dispenser was turned on spewing the chaff out behind us.  As soon as we turned north our warning receivers started to talk to us.  Strobes and noise were the order of the day.  Early warning radars picked us up and then the closer in radars started their steady and chirping sounds and finally the rattlesnake tones of launches.  There was so much noise in the headset I actually turned the volume down so I could hear radio transmissions from wingmen.  I knew that if a missile was launched I would get the Azimuth Sector (AS) light on bright and steady with a loud, piercing tone.  We called this the Awe Shit light.  If that came on, a missile was being aimed at you, or it could also be from a dummy radar site to make you maneuver against a phantom missile and cause you to not fly the required altitude and flight path.  In addition, in maneuvering one might bleed off enough energy and airspeed to make one vulnerable to actual missiles being sent one’s way. 

At 30,000 feet and 310 IAS, the aircraft was on the edge of a stall.  Any abrupt maneuvers could well put us out of control.  The B-52s were behind us, this altitude was good for them. The AS light had been on several times, but no missiles yet. We started our 45 degree bank turn.  I knew this was the most dangerous part of the mission, this was our most vulnerable time.  If they were going to launch, it was now.  I was in the back seat and had a feeling a missile was to be launched, but my Aircraft Commander (AC) wouldn't roll out of the turn. He was trying to stay in pod formation with lead. I could understand his reasoning.  If we strayed out any further, our aircraft would appear as one on outside of formation.  (Remember the possible bad jamming pod on the left?) 

We had just started our turn to the right.  I knew we had to roll out to check below.  Hair stood out on the back of my neck, and a silent voice was telling me to do something or die.  I told the AC to roll out again, but he wouldn't/couldn’t. I had never done this before and never did again, but I grabbed the stick and rolled out.  The first of three missiles was on the way.  I saw it over the left intake at 10 o'clock, made the SAM call to the rest of the flight to roll out and gave the aircraft back to the AC.  He went to negative Gs and went to full afterburner to pick up enough speed to maneuver.  

The first missile was tracking us.  The reddish orange glow of the boost phase that had lit up the world below the undercast was gone and now the missile was a silver-white death dot coming at us at Mach 2 plus.  The silver color was the tracking phase rocket motor. No matter what we did it stayed on the same spot on the canopy.  If it didn’t track us we would ignore it and let it fly close by through our flight.  The AC pushed the nose over and the missile would follow us, if we pulled up it would follow us up.  That meant it was tracking us. We barrel rolled around it and it just missed us and blew up about 300 feet above us. I don't know how it missed. The second missile from the same site was on us now.  Low on airspeed and altitude, I asked the AC what he was going to do and he said “I don't have a F...ing clue.” Gave me a lot of confidence!!??, but I didn't have any ideas either. We were "out of airspeed and ideas" as they say. He unloaded even more and then tried another roll around missile. Must have worked since I saw the missile up close and it too just missed us. Probably the jamming helped, couldn't read our altitude correctly maybe.  It also blew up over and behind us.  One second earlier and the night would not have ended well.  I swear I saw the rivets on the missile as it passed by.

I put my head down in the radar scope to work the radar tilt and gain to pick up the rest of the flight so we could get back into formation. I found them and told pilot to come right and climb, flight was to right of us 45 degrees and high. By this time we were heading basically east. Just as we were getting back in position a third SAM blew up just behind and above flight. It illuminated all three aircraft. It evidently came from another SA-2 site at our six. We never saw it coming.

Luckily, none of us were hit.  Thanks to superb flying by my AC and what I believed was a helping hand from God, we all made it home safely that night.    Praise the Lord and give me some more airspeed and altitude! 

Thank you, Dean.

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

Ok.  You can look but don't expect to see much.  This thing is a long way from reality.   But, it's moving in the right direction.   The exhaust area was giving me fits a couple nights ago until I remembered seeing heat distress on a sharp photo of an F-100, then mimicked the effect with a light pass of purple.

If you ever see the final piece - even close-up - you won't see the purple. At least that's my hope!  I am working to make sure what we perceive is actually seared metal.  In art, "perception is reality." I have a William S. Phillips piece hanging in my #2 studio that I use for inspiration.  Far away, it looks like a silver B-29.  Up close?  It's a blue B-29.  He's definitely one of the best aviation artists ever and true master of the trickery of color.

This is a good segue to bring up one of the main tasks of the 334th, laying "Chaff."  And for that, we should brush up on the knowledge of Radar.

Radar works by sending radio waves out from a device, waiting for the waves to hit an object and then collecting the returning waves at the source.  It's actually a 19th Century discovery, but it took until the 1930s for the idea to really manifest itself for military purposes.   The Brits used radar rather well to determine where the German bombers were going to attack during the Blitz of 1940-41.  From then on, just about every combatant in WW2 used radar in some fashion or another for the obvious reasons of detection.

But, every good trick demands an even better counter.  One of those counters was a thing called, "Chaff."

Chaff is a device that, when dispersed in the air, mimics the substance of an aircraft.  When the enemy radar detects the Chaff, the signals that come back are essentially gibberish.  The results are critical - a jumbled radar scope can nullify radar-guided weapons like guns or missiles and it can also keep the enemy in-the-dark about the actual target.

For Chaff to work, a number of factors have to be right.  But most importantly, the stuff has to be in the air long enough to mess things up for the radar readers.  So, it has to be light enough to "float."  Put it up too soon and it goes away.  And don't even think about being 'too late' because by then, someone might be dead.

I thought you might like to see what the WW2 variety looked like - see below.  And for extra authenticity, it's held by WW2 fighter pilot, too.

Anyway, this is what Chaff looked like back then - metal impregnated paper strips.  And when TONS of it were dumped into the air, the little pieces looked like big bombers.  Or, at the very least, a massive blob of "unknown."

25 years later over Vietnam,  Chaff was still an important trick.  In fact, it was really important because of the advent of radar-guided missiles called SAMs.  Like the airplanes, radar and the requisite counter-measures had evolved.

The CO of the 334th, Col. Crawford "Shock" Shockley described, "The chaff we had was almost invisible - almost like hair.  You couldn't see it with the eye, but it showed up on (the North Vietnamese) radar.   And our job was to be ahead of the rest and lay it down before the rest of the strike arrived."

Now think about that for a second.  I'll repeat what he said, "...and our job was to be ahead of the rest..."

*click*  It became clear.  The 334th were the first ones in.  Now, being the first on the battlefield can actually be a benefit as the 'element of surprise' is in your favor.  But once that's lost - which is instantaneous - the war is on.

"(The North Vietnamese military) would see this band of chaff (on their radar screens) and then they'd put all their effort at the head of it because now, they knew where we were!"

Don't think for a second that Chaff missions were without high value.  In air-combat, time is divided into quantum slices.   The quick tick of a clock can contain victory, defeat and an outcome that could be returning home safely, in a body bag or POW camp.

The Chaff mission was a hell of a responsibility.

And they're also a brilliant illustration of how situations are dependent upon human performance, i.e. competence.    To those of us fortunate enough to have avoided mortal combat, the analogy can be brought into our work and personal life easily.   But I can't help but thinking that the 334th TFS learned the crucial lesson of "doing one's work well for the sake of others" better than most.

Hmmm.  I think I'll look into that.  Stay tuned.  Especially because the 334th's technical expertise was to be relied upon when they were tasked with using a radical evolution of the iron bomb.

In the meantime, the photo below is all I could find of the modern Chaff.  Just think - inside that little tube is a whole bomber formation.  Or not.

And go ahead and try to find the purple in the F-4.  It's there.  Really.

Note:  The 334th were certainly not the only unit in SE Asia tasked with dispensing Chaff over the battlefield.  However, they are the only one that earned the nickname, "Chaff Masters."

Postscript:  More than a few 334th alumni have, after reading this post, expressed their feelings about the Chaff mission.  If they can be summed up in one statement, it is this:  "I've spent the last 40 years trying to put chaff completely out of my vocabulary and memory."  I think I understand why, too.

Profile 68: BEGINNING "xxx" as flown by the 334th TFS

Here it is - my newest project - an F-4E Phantom as flown by the 334th TFS.

This sketch - done with a fantastic ballpoint pen swiped from a Hyatt  -  surprised me with its ease.  Some people call the Phantom "ugly."  But to me, it's beautiful.  Hulking, big and angular, she seems crafted - not by an engineer - but by a sculptor with a wicked vision.  There is no mistaking it for anything other than what it is - a war machine.

The pressure is always on to do well.  But this project brings a new dimension to the work in that it will not represent a specific pilot but an entire squadron. And not just a Squadron but a specific TDY (military jargon for "temporary duty").  In other words, a time and a place and the team itself.

Introducing The Eagles from Ubon, Thailand, 1972.  Their 'temporary duty' is no mere corporate rotation but the assembly for an astonishing aerial campaign called "Operation Linebacker."  Though many fascinating aspects of the story that will come out later, the one you need to know now is - this is what finally put a stop to The Vietnam War.

I'm really amped for this project as I expect to learn much about such a critical time of American history.  So much so that last Sunday, while the sermon was on "Walking in the Spirit" I evidently interpreted it as "Flying in the Phantoms" as indicated by the photo (below) of my sermon notes!

No offense to my pastor but the way I see it - if God didn't value history, His book would have been a whole lot skinnier.

Anyway -  time to imagine blue skies, white clouds, green below...and a red-hot enemy.  We're going North!

Photo:  ©1972 Chuck Coffman, 334th TFS

Profile 67: FINAL - "50" F4F-4 Wildcat as flown by Joe Foss, VMF-121

DONE!  I presented it to the Commissioner last Wednesday and...they like it!

At almost 30" long, this Wildcat is impressive on size alone and because of its size, was a real stretch for me.  For my work, it's quite detailed.  At the risk of sounding like the geek I am, I'm rather proud of the paint chips on the tailwheel shroud.

Anyway, presenting a finished piece is an interesting moment.  In this case, we were standing around the conference table, arms behind backs (it always happens, people put their arms behind their backs and lean into the artwork), lots of "hmmm's"  and "huh's" - then one of the guys breaks the silence and says, "You know, Joe Foss is definitely a candidate for The Most Interesting Man In the World*."

Really?!

Let's roll the facts on the man:

  - Born at a farmstead with no electricity.
  - Father dies; Joe drops out of school to run the family farm
  - Saves $60, learns to fly, becomes Marine Corps aviator
  - Refused combat duty because of his "old age"
  - Learns fighters (F4Fs) on his own
  - Ditches airplane in ocean, swims with sharks until rescued by Missionaries

  - Shoots down 26 Japanese airplanes in aerial combat*

  - Receives Medal of Honor for service between October '42 and January '43

  - Starts his own businesses after the war (some worked, some didn't)

  - Starts the South Dakota Air National Guard
  - Becomes a Brigadier General
  - Wins two terms as Governor of South Dakota
  - Loses a House seat race to George McGovern
  - Turns down $750K for rights to make a movie about him
    (and that's 1950s money, too!)
  - Becomes Commissioner of the American Football League
  - Hosts the TV show, American Sportsman
  - Gets arsenic poisoning and becomes paralyzed
  - Fights his way out of paralysis
  - Becomes a born-again Christian
  - Does PR for KLM Airlines
  - Becomes President of the National Rifle Association
  - Makes the cover of TIME Magazine
  - Has an airport, high school and national foundation named for him...

    ...just "google" the guy.

"Joe Foss" is not just a name.  It's an adjective, noun and verb.

However, he did share his 'formula' for success when I got to sit down with him in 2002.  "I don't think about yesterdays. You want to do something, then you just go and do it."

It's really brilliant advice - devilish though because so few people want to see life so simply, so positively.  To Joe, "success" was not complicated or mysterious.  It was simply the result of continuous forward desire.

Ok. Now's a good time to show you a little artifact of Joe's wartime service - a page from the VMF-121's "War Diary" showing the day's activity for November 7, 1942.

Go ahead and read it - and notice the lack of info such as aircraft number, serial (BuNo) number.  This is somewhat unusual in that aviators tend to keep detailed records on airplanes.  It just goes to show that combat at Guadalcanal was chaotic.

Close your eyes - imagine a searing hot day, gluey humidity and the slap-crunch of leather shoes on coral gravel; the whine of an air raid siren - pilots leap up onto their Wildcats, engines belch to life...

On that November day, Joe experienced his 'Most Interesting' combat mission.  After shooting down 3 Japanese aircraft, his last victory - a two-seat Japanese biplane  - returned the favor; the enemy's rear gunner shot Joe down, too.

Forced to ditch his F4F in the ocean, Joe almost didn't make it out of the cockpit.  With a foot caught under the seat, Joe sank into the deep with the plummeting plane until - at about 30 foot depth - he wrenched himself free and shot to the surface.

Waterlogged, exhausted, Joe was now alone in the heaving sea.  Sharks circled, hours passed, darkness arrived... then, a boat paddled by natives and a Missionary (really, I'm not making this up) approached, hauled him aboard... two days later, he's back in combat!

When I was a little kid - 3 or 4 - my father had this paperback book, "Greatest Fighter Missions" by a man named Edward Sims.   Before the words made any sense, I'd pour over the book's little combat diagrams.  They're really fantastic works of art as well as graphical stories.  Whoever did them was a master!

Anyway, I still have the book, and the diagram of Joe Foss's November 7, 1942 mission has remained in-memory all this time.  Now you can remember it too - see below.  Cool huh?!

And see the little profile drawing of the Wildcat in the lower left hand corner?  I distinctly remember trying to duplicate it, using crayons on the thick grayish paper my mom would give me.  It just occurred to me -  I started drawing Joe's Wildcat forty years ago!

You know, I'm glad I kept at it.

If I've learned anything from Joe Foss it's that circumstances are irrelevant. The man went from dirt-farm to Pacific Island to General to paralytic to...you get the point.  In "the combat of life" success is not about what's happened or even what's going on currently.  All things pass.

Success is about what you do next.

"I don't think about yesterdays. You want to do something, then you just go and do it." 

And that's how you become Most Interesting Man in the World.

*********

POSTSCRIPT:  An old SDANG pilot buddy of Joe's just emailed me.  I thought you'd like to read what he wrote:

John:  Liked your drawing of the F4F...I flew this plane a number of times. A stable plane but a crude cockpit.  Upon takeoff with right hand on the stick and left hand on the throttle, I was forced to put the stick in my left hand and reach down to the floor with my right hand to hand crank up the wheels. When I looked up I had pushed the stick forward with nose headed for the ground. I bet the autos on the highway thought I was buzzing them.  Upon landing I unlatched the catch and let gravity pull down the wheels.  There was an inch of armor plate both behind the seat and under the seat. How Joe  Foss ever shot down 26 Jap planes I'll never know.The Japenese Zero was much more manueverable because they had no armor plating and weighed less.  But Joe was a crack shot, having hunted pheasants in South Dakota,he knew how to lead the target.  After the war I flew P-51 Mustangs with Joe putting on many air shows for local celebrations.  When I reminesce, how lucky can one get?  I got to fly the F4F, the F4U, and the P-51 Mustang .........Semper Fi from an old (92 years) Marine fighter pilot from the carrier Wasp.  

Claude Hone, VMF 216, SDANG

* From the ad campaign for Dos Equis beer.

**The truth is, much of the aerial combat in the Pacific Theatre was one-sided.  After 1943, the quality of the Japanese aviator grew progressively poorer by the day.  And of course,  Japanese airplanes were comparatively easier to shoot down on account of prevailing aeronautical design philosophies of the Japanese military. . But Joe, in 1942, fought the best the Japanese had - and they were every bit as good as the American pilots.   F4F vs A6M (Japanese Navy fighter commonly called a Zero) was a match made by Mars himself.  Joe's 26 victories came the hard way. 


Sources:  Artwork, me.  VMF-121 War Diary courtesy of the U.S. Marine Corps History Division,  Guadalcanal F4F photo ©unknown, Diagram: Greatest Fighter Missions by Edward M. Sims published by Ballantine Books, New York, 1962.  Please holler if you know other proper attributes.

Profile 67 - UPDATE "5?" as flown by Joe Foss, VMF-121

So.  It looks like all I have to do is add the rudder, tweak some shadows and add final markings.  I'm still on the fence of what aircraft number to use - 50?  53?  84?

I remember in 2001 (or 2000?) trying to impress Joe that I knew the number of the plane he flew at Guadalcanal and his sardonic reply, "That's my airplane, huh?"   I had no idea at the time that in reality, Joe scrambled to whatever airplane was in operating condition.  And the paperwork of who flew-what was of little consequence when Japanese bombers were readying to unleash their fury.

Joe never "had an airplane" and he didn't care, either.  I could have put down any number and he'd have been fine with it.  But facts are facts, right?

Anyway,  the question brings up the whole idea of "numbers" in war - especially war against the Japanese in WW2.  The numbers are appalling.   In fact, they're unbelievable (irony intended).

When one thinks of war's "numbers" - the most natural counting is of deaths.  People are weird this way - battles, wars, conflicts gain a perverse appeal with the increase in body counts.   Anyway, here's what I learned about the body count between the Japanese and The United States:

Japan:  2.2 million soldiers dead or approximately 4% of the country's population in 1940

United States:  420,000 soldiers dead or approximately .33% of the country's population in 1940.

Carve up those stats however you'd like.  Personally, I'm fascinated with the indication that a Japanese solider was 12x more likely to die.  But the fact remains:  The Japanese slaughtered their young men in the pursuit of gain.

A few years ago, Morrie Magnuson explained, "War is always about the leaders.  It's not about the soldiers.  Soldiers do what they're told."    To the American way of thinking, a 12:1 death ratio is clear proof of the Japanese leader's insanity.

Today, in 21st Century, there's a reluctance to make disparaging remarks about another nation's culture or belief system.  But the truth is, the leaders that drove Japan into WW2 were nuts.  Of course, there may be those that attempt to explain their behavior by describing "The Bushido Code of the Samurai," but it doesn't change the reality

So.  What does this mean to the drawing above?  I'll get to that.  But have a look at the photograph below.  It's a Japanese flag taken from a dead Japanese soldier discovered by an American Marine pilot circa Spring, 1944.

In case you're not brushed-up on your Japanese, here's what it states.  Kinda.


“Brave man from Manshuu (Manchuria)

Honorable Hourjiro Saito (name) From all the people at the shop!

In recognition of being a part of the battle at the Haruha River with the Manchurian Independent Defense Unit”

In other words, this was just a guy who carried some stuff from his buddies into combat.  In fact, I know so - I have the soldier's wallet, too.  And based on what's in there, I can pretty-much state, the "Jap" was just a poor guy like the rest of us, doing what he was ordered to do and paying the ultimate price.

Ok.  Back to Joe Foss. I'm trying to figure out which number to choose for his airplane and got lost in the rabbit-trail of "numbers" of war.  

Which to choose.  50?  53?  84?  2.2 million?

In the next and final post, we're going to look at a day in the life of Joe Foss and what he went through to defeat the enemy.  He'll narrowly escape death, but take the life of at least 3, maybe 5, with him.  a 1:5 ratio over one day's work.

Profile 67 - UPDATE "5?" as flown by Joe Foss

Here you go - it's about 50% done and the obvious parts need to be masked in... but I'm on schedule!  Two more posts after this one and this might be the most accurate rendering of Joe's F4F.  At least it will crack the top 100.  I think.

A question I often get is this - "What do you use for references?"

And that's a good question; the answer is simple.  "Whatever I can get my hands on."

Right now, within a 12' radius, there are no fewer than 100 different drawings of F4F Wildcats circa 1942.  And those are just books.  There are also other people involved - smarter, sharper and unafraid to either share knowledge and/or correct my errors. 

But you know what?  None of them - books or bookworms - quite agree!  So in the end, I have to sort the facts and make a call.  Kind of like an eeny-meeny-miny-mo game.   

BUT!  

A couple years ago, I was prowling around a trio of derelict SBD Dauntless dive bombers.  Two of them happened to have been painted in the 1942 Navy scheme.  My buddy - a man who shall remain nameless for reasons that will be obvious in about two seconds - handed me his pocket knife and said, "Cut a piece of that fabric off.  You might need it some day."

And well-I'll-be-damned.  He was right.

Look below - those are actual pieces of control-surface fabric from the the two SBDs.  Strip away the mold, the aging, the fading...add some hot sun, cold rain, coral dust, oil, grime...and you've got the livery of an F4F-4 Wildcat circa Fall, 1942, Guadalcanal.  

It's kind of like my buddy Steve and his recipe for making wild duck edible - add this, do that... by the time it gets to the table, it's been altered so much, it's "Duck" by DNA only.  

In my pointless pursuit of perfection, my rendering will soon get into the mix of options.  Will mine be "the most accurate color rendering of all"?  Well, it's probably the only available profile illustration that was based on actual 1942 color* chips.  

But like Steve's duck, you'll need to take that with a grain of salt - and whatever else he throws in to make it palatable.  

See you next week!




*Technically, the color is called "non-specular blue-gray."

Profile 67: BEGINNING - "5?" as flown by Joe Foss

Here it is - the starting sketch of Joe Foss's F4F-4 Wildcat circa Fall of 1942, on Guadalcanal.

This particular commission is a especially weighty - not just because it represents one of America's heroes but also because it's going to be displayed in a very public place.  Suffice it to state, the pressure is on.  But it takes pressure to make a diamond, right?

I'm working hard to make this project worth your time.  If only half the pieces I'm hoping for fall together, there'll be some fresh data, real inspiration and a blow-mind surprise.  Or two.

Regular readers know my Drill - I start with a sketch, then try to tell the story behind it via progressive updates to the art.   As my target-date for finishing is June 22, check back every Saturday throughout June for progress shots and back-story.

In the meantime, I'll set the stage for the Guadalcanal story - in 6 months between August of 1942 and February of 1943, over 35,000 soldiers would die, 50-some ships would sink and 1,300+ airplanes would never fly again.

Guadalcanal was a bloody mess.

And somewhere in there, an "old man" from South Dakota would use a handful of hard-worn Wildcats to defeat a fierce enemy,  help turn the tables in the Pacific War and come home to the Congressional Medal of Honor.

When it comes to seat-of-the-pants history, it doesn't get better than this...

Image: 1943 King Features Syndicate via darwinscans.blogspot.com

Profile 66: FINAL - LGM-30G as flown by the 91st SMW

And there it is - an LGM-30G.  Or, as I'd heard them called before, "Minuteman III missiles."

For the time being, it's the most accurate illustration of such a device available to the public.  But you should also know this - it's the only illustration of such a device, too.

Typically, I list the name of the veteran who flew/crewed/used whatever 'thing' in the headline.  But for the next four or five minutes, I'd like to keep his name anonymous.  Why?  Because, in his own words, he represented an 'anonymous' service.

"I'm proud of being a Missileer," he said.  "And no one knows what we do.  You need to tell our story."

I have to admit - I knew so little about them, I thought "Missileer" was one of those slang names used to describe people.  Sort of like "gear head," "foodie" or "Army brat."  However, I now know the truth of the matter - Missileers are the last human human link before nuclear Armageddon.

There's nothing slang or casual about Missileer.

I've learned much about this fascinating and sobering group of men and women.  But for me, one of the most striking moments occurred when my patron slid a DVD of the seminal TV movie, "The Day After" across my conference table.  "Watch this. There's a part you need to watch," he said.

The screenshot below is of that scene.  Evidently, the missile launch sequence was filmed at an Air Force training facility.  Here, Missileers learn the elaborate and deliberate process of launching a nuclear ICBM.  Notice the dymo-taped word, "Gently" above the ominous 'launch key.'

Hold that thought, I need to take a rabbit trail for a moment.

In my interviews, I ask a lot of questions and there's a system to them.  But this time, they went by the wayside.  The sheer nature of what was at-hand tempted me to lose discipline and cut to the chase of what I was really thinking -   "So.  Could you really have done it?!"

In other words, did he really have the gall to push the button and launch World War Three?!

"Absolutely," he said without a moment's hesitation.

"You robot!" I thought, surprised at my own repulsion at his apparent reflex.

Now, don't get me wrong.  This wasn't the first time I'd had contact with world destruction.  When I interviewed Morris Jeppson  - the Bomb Electronics Officer on the Enola Gay - I was and remain gung-ho on the decision to level Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  But here?  Today!?  I thought this missile-guy might have been nuts.

He knew what I was thinking, too.  "Look.  You have to know something about those missiles," he said, leaning forward over the table.  "The nukes aren't the deterrent for nuclear war.  And...they never were."

I wasn't expecting that.

"We are the deterrent." He pointed to his chest with his thumb.  "It's not the missile.  It's the training, the focus and the ability of the people to actually do the undoable that's the deterrent.  As long as we're ready, as long as we're able..."

 I finished his sentence.  "...you won't." 

"Correct.  At least in dealing with rational people, anyway."

"Like the Soviets!?"

"Yeah.  I think we all considered our Soviet counterparts of equal mind."  He rested back in the chair.  "We wouldn't do it because we were totally prepared to do it. See?  That's why you're doing this missile.  I want my grandkids to know."

Grandkids!  What a word to come up when discussing the destruction of most of the human race!  And this is a good time to look up again at that screen shot.  Here's why the word "Gently" is so significant.

During training, the Missileers go through the drill of actually launching the nukes.  All the drama, all the checks, all the pressure is brought to bear on these men and women to ensure that when the time comes, they can assuredly counter a nuclear assault.

There are no big-red Launch Buttons.  Instead, the launch is executed by inserting and turning a Launch Key.  During this training, the tension is so great, keys have been ripped-off in the socket!  Hence, the reminder - "Turn the key, gently."  But only in the Training Facilities because in the real, operational missile sites, it doesn't matter if you break the key off because...there won't be anyone around afterwards to care.

The term "Missileer"?  Chances are good you were like me and hadn't given them any regard before this project.  But now, they'll never be forgotten.

Note to the politicians of the world:  Gently, indeed.  There are grandkids to think about.

This illustration and posting courtesy of Bob Groman (91st SMW).

To people interested in having prints of this missile, click here.

To people who are still wondering what missiles actually do, the illustration below should leave no doubt.  Image ©National Park Service

Final Flight - Don S. Bryan

That's Don Bryan, devoted husband, lovable crank, brilliant philosopher and WW2 ace.  And that's a little girl in a crowd at a 352nd Fighter Group reunion a few years ago.

I'll let you in on the back story.

We were at a Georgia airport where the Veterans had gathered to see P-51 Mustangs decorated in their signature blue-nosed markings.  Like many of these events, a crowd of "groupies" showed up, hoping for autographs and handshakes...and Don loved to play along.

Now... there were two things about Don that I had noticed.  One, for all the back slapping, joke telling and roaring stories, that he could attract, he was smart - whip smart.  How I learned that is another story but for now, imagine an Old Western movie where the bad guy draws on a distracted sheriff only to have his gun suddenly shot away by the sheriff's lightning-like reflex; "Son. You'd better know who you're trying to shoot before you shoot."  That sheriff would be Don.

The other thing about Don was that he defined the phrase "straight shooter."  Though cat-clever, he had no guile. If he said it, he meant it.  I got the impression that to him, anything less than "the way it is" was somehow not completely true and therefore, a lie.

Bah...I could write forever on Don Bryan.  For now, I'll just state this - he's awesome.

Anyway, back to the picture.   Don had made his way around the Ramp, shaking hands, laughing loudly and eventually came upon the little girl.  In "Grumpy Grandpa" character,  he put his hands on his hips, narrowed his eyes and roared, "And who are YOU?!"

Don had been carrying that video camera and as he pretended to start recording, (and put a little good-natured fright into the kid)  the girl got on her toes and growled, "I'm Abbie. And I'm going to be an Astronaut.  Who are YOU!?"

"You're...'  He stammered, voice crackling with incredulity. "You're what!?"

She admonished with a slap of disgust, "I'm going to Mars and you know who I am!" See, she'd met Don the night before at the Reunion hotel.  Was even tickled.  And Don, in his gregarious glad-handing, momentarily forgot that kids have even less tolerance to BS than he did himself.

She simply stopped the man cold.

"Yes.  Yes you did, Abbie." The character came off.  "Here.  You film me."  He gave her the camera.  "I want to be filmed by an Astronaut."

That's about when I took the picture.

It's really just a cute story that probably has little worth to anyone outside of me and my wife because the little girl is my daughter.

But I have to say this - over the years, Don remembered, "His little astronaut" at Christmas, in emails, letters...encouraging her to rise to her dreams and achieve her goal.  He let me know in no uncertain terms.  "John, she's in a world where she can be an astronaut!  And if she can, she must."

Don's encouragement hasn't been lost on Abbie.   Hanging in her room, there's a box-shaped spaceship that, a couple grades ago, she made for a school project.  It looks about what you'd expect a home-made spaceship made from a cardboard box would look like except it has a blue top and is named "Little One...IV"

Don was one of the first WW2 pilots I interviewed,  My ancient art of his P-51 is below - "Little One III" - and named for his wife, Francis.

Don died today.

But he will live forever.  And quite possibly, ride into space, too.

Blue Skies, Don...

And for those of you who are wondering why he's a hero...

Profile 66: Update - LGM-30G as flown by the 91st SMW

Here's the latest update.  It's about 40% finished.  Unfortunately though,  I'm probably going to do it all over.

Why?  Well, it may have been obvious to you all-along, but to me the question came a little late -   “How do you draw something that was never seen?!”

Think about it.  This missile is not like doing a proper winged warbird.  Nose art, paint schemes, mission markings?  They're utterly useless.   And it's not like the Missileers would ever get any particular pride out of a sharks-mouth or curvy pinup painted on the nose.

Instead, I'm sitting here trying to figure out Fungicide and Cork.  Yes.  Fungicide and Cork.


Let me explain.

Have a look at what I've managed so far.  But I'm a little confused about it.  See, a significant part of it was covered with cork - the same stuff that shoots out of champagne bottles.  How's that for irony?  But the similarity between missile and merlot doesn't stop there.  Both slumber silently in the cool dark until the hour of need, protected by cork against evil elements that work towards their demise.

To the wine, the evil element is Air.  Cork preserves the wine because it resists rot, doesn't shrink and prevents premature oxidation by keeping air out.

Air doesn't like missiles, either.   Accelerating through the atmosphere to 15,000+ mph, the pressure of high-velocity and heat generated from friction are extreme.  But the cork provides a physical barrier absorbing the brunt of such forces by slowly and predictably sacrificing itself along the way.   If you want a new word, the mechanical term for this mechanical self-destruction/preservation is called "Ablation."

However.  Standing vigilant in its concrete cellar for days, months (hopefully forever) the cork itself is subject to its own battle.  A battle against - of all things - fungus. 

Imagine this scenario; a fungus attacks a certain part of the nose and begins to eat it away.  Suddenly, launch-time happens, the missile goes...but somewhere around 200,000 feet, that portion of the ablative covering fails prematurely.  The result could be…well… terrible.

We can't let a mere fungus stand in the way of a nuclear exchange, can we?

(ha ha ha - more irony).

So, in order to protect the cork, a fungicide was added, resulting in a (as yet) mysterious green hue.  In other words, our nation's "second strike capability" may well have been teetering upon CORK FUNGUS! 

Right now, I'm being driven two notches below insanity trying to figure out what the green color was, how much cork covered 'what' and do it all in a fashion that doesn't demand sneaking into a top-secret facility with a digital camera.

Hmmm.  

I believe I need to open a bottle of wine as an ablative to keep myself from going crazy waiting for my sources to figure out what needs to be known.  Maybe I'm already crazy because I couldn't help but see what a Minuteman III would look like in "proper" livery!

he he.  I hope it makes you chuckle because the next update leaves no room for comedy.  Or mistakes.

Profile 66: Beginning - LGM-30G - 91st SMW

Well...

You can see for yourself that my latest project is not an airplane.  It's a missile.  Specifically, an LGM-30G ICBM nuclear delivery device.   Or more commonly, "The Minuteman III."

With an altitude of 700 miles, an 8,000 mile range and top speed of 15,500 mph, this bird is the "air craft" to end all aircraft.  And potentially, all human life.

It's a far, far cry from the shark-like lines of a P-51 Mustang or muscular hulk of a B-24...but when presented with the job, I simply had to say, "Yes!" on historical gravity alone.

But make no mistake -  this Godzilla-sized bullet may well be the best use of taxpayer dollars since the U.S. bought Alaska from Russia.

Progress is going to move fast and definitely check back often.  I've just begun my interview process, but all signs promise a fascinating perspective on our post-WW2 world.  And I can guarantee that you will learn something new.

Duck and cover, things are about to get COLD!

Profile 65: FINAL - "Billings Belle" as flown by Earl Depner

Here she is - the Billings Belle, as flown by squadron commander Major Earl Depner of the 354th Fighter Group!  As near as can be figured out, this P-51B had its first combat mission in late December 1943 and was destroyed in a non-operational accident* on May 1, 1944.  From assembly line to scrap heap, Billings Belle was alive barely nine months.

Here's a picture of Earl in front of his Belle taken some time in March or April of 1944.

Yesterday, however, I finally got around to asking Earl his birthday and he replied, "Eleven, twelve, seventeen." Or put a little more commonly, November 12th, 1917.  I'll save you the math.  Earl is 94 years old.  Ninety. Four.  Years.  Old. When he was my current age, I hadn't even been born yet!  And furthermore,  the man has lived my entire lifetime BEYOND my current years.

In other words, Earl Depner is far more experienced at life than I am.   And, now you know why I ask the seemingly crass question of, "If you die today and I become the last person you talk to, what do you want me to know?"

Old guys know stuff.

Now, before I write what Earl told me, you should know that his response was nearly an hour-long discussion, during which topics of Natural Law, individual freedom & responsibility and the spiritual aspects of wealth were examined.   This was not superficial water-cooler talk...and it never is with any "Old Guy."   However, in Earl's case it struck me how utterly important the topic was for me and how damned rare it was that anyone of my age was having the discussion at all!

How often have you discussed life with someone twice your age?

Give me a second for a rabbit trail - Earl described being a boy of fifteen and how he would hike to streams and fish for trout.  The freedom he and his friends experienced was total.  His parents didn't think to worry about meth, porn, SAT scores.  But most telling was that his parents didn't restrict the boy's life in the wild, among his buddies.  There was a trust that part of figuring life was figuring life and somehow, it'd all work out.

I've heard similar stories from Old Guys a thousand times if not a million. I'm still a little struck by remembering how Bob Goebel told me how he hitchhiked from Indiana to Texas (hitchhiking is supposed to be dangerous if not deadly!)  Life truly was different back then... just like life is ALWAYS different back then.

But things are 'different now' too, right?

Yeah, yeah.  It's easy to be nostalgic.  And, the point of this isn't to rile up some old hankerin' for better days long past.   The point is this - the lessons of our past are lost if we don't inquire of them.

So anyway, you want to know what Earl told me?  He said, "John, live life like you're going to change the world."

"Well Earl?  Have you?"

"Yes."

And indeed he has.  At least mine.  That's him signing my artwork - you have no idea how cool that is - and Billings Belle gets reborn.

Happy Easter!

*The pilot at the time, Lt. Richard Hughes, was killed.

**Many thanks go to the historians behind the 354th Fighter Group, Syd Edwards, Matt Jolley of Warbird Radio, Father Don Brownstein, George Depner, Dave Nordlund and of course, Earl Depner.

Profile 65 - "Billings Belle" as flown by Earl Depner

It's "The Story" that draws me to a particular airplane.  Some stories are obvious - like that of Leo Thorsness' F-105 or the B-24, "Flak Shack."  They represent the heroic clashes of aerial sabers.   Some are historic - Hank Snow's "Snowballs" and Dick Cole's "Doolittle Raider"  B-25 come to mind.

And some are the result of a subtle but continual tap to the consciousness over years and years...until one day, it seems like the entire span of time was a set up for one purpose - draw the airplane.

Behold, "Billings Belle."  Right now, it's a crude pencil sketch.  But shortly, she will become immortalized.  As long as there is electrical power fueling the data pool, the Belle's face, body and story will live as a testimony to her master.

When I was a kid, my dad made model airplanes. 1/72 scale, in fact.  Though it obviously inspired my work today, his hobby was also torturous at times.  See, the glass shelves that held the finished works were located in my bedroom.  And out of my reach.  And cloaked in a veil of dread should I ever, "bust one."  All I could do was stare until those rare occasions when he'd take one down and I would get to look.  But not touch.

Well, one particular airplane that always had my eye was a dark brown one with a white nose, white stripes on the wings and tail and the strange word, "OLE" on the cowl.  It was this little model that introduced me to the glorious cult of the P-51 Mustang and also imprinted how the machine should look.

Well, forty years later, I'm finally getting around to doing a properly attired P-51.

Get ready to meet Major Earl Depner, CO of the 356th Fighter Squadron of the 354th Fighter Group - the very first American fighter group to receive the P-51 for combat.

The timing is perfect.

*This is the box that contained the P-51 that tempted my little fingers.  What I'd give to have it today...