That Time I Bagged an F-16
I’ve written quite a bit about the challenges when flying the F-14A Tomcat against the F-16 Viper. It’s a very formidable Fighter, highly maneuverable, light weight, nearly 1 to 1 thrust ratio, fast roll rate, 9+ G capable, etc., etc. In contrast, the F-14A is much larger, heavier, .75 to 1 thrust ratio at best, slower roll rage, 7 G capable, etc., etc. It’s similar to two boxers, one with longer reach, more muscles, and better footwork; you know how it’s normally going to end. You’ve also heard me quote the Red Baron about the importance of “the man in the box”, vice the box itself. That will always be true but in reality, some boxes are REALLY good and can make even a mediocre pilot fairly formidable. At any rate, enough excuse making.
As one gets better in the air-to-air arena over time, you learn your own personal limitations but also discover a few of your own techniques that seem to work for you. The more time you spend on it, your BFM (Basic Fighter Maneuvers) get better and better and your skills improve, just like any endeavor (mental or physical or both). Wikipedia, for what it’s worth, has a pretty good section describing BFM in great detail and defines them as:
“The tactical movements performed by fighter aircraft during air combat maneuvering (ACM, also called dogfighting), to gain a positional advantage over the opponent. BFM combines the fundamentals of aerodynamic flight and the geometry of pursuit, with the physics of managing the aircraft's energy-to-mass ratio, called its specific energy.”
OK, pretty good start. The advanced stuff comes with practice and experience and instruction by the highly qualified bogey drivers at the Aggressor squadrons and for the purposes of this #TomcatTail we’re talking about the VF-126 Bandits at Miramar, CA.
When you’re between cruises and deployments, Fighter Squadrons have time for Unit Level Training (ULT) that doesn’t require the rest of the air wing to support. This is great since the squadrons are pretty scattered (Tomcats/E-2s at Miramar, S-3s at North Island, Hornets in Lemoore, A-6/EA-6 at Whidbey Island). This is also the time you take on some new Nuggets and focus on the basic A/A and A/G skills. One way we did this as a community was an annual flight line wide contest known as “Fighter Derby”. While the specific rules escape me (it WAS 30 years ago, please), it’s essentially hosted/run by the Bandits and all squadrons field 3 or 4 sections to compete against the rest of the squadrons on the base.
As you may imagine, something like this got HIGHLY competitive. As such, so was Bombing Derby that measured your A/G skills with precise times on target, etc. There were a number of other flight line contests and awards to be won at Miramar that all factored into the annual competition to win either the coveted “Battle E” for excellence or the even MORE coveted “Mutha” trophy for the most shit hot, coolest squadron on the flight line. The Mutha story would take a book, so I’ll leave it to another time, but that was THE trophy to win.
Our squadron, the VF-24 Renegades, began to prepare for the contest by focusing strictly on ACM for a couple weeks. We assigned crews to their specific sections (two planes are a section, four planes are a division). Just my luck, I got paired up with our only former Bogey Driver from VF-126, “Space”. Space was one of those rare salty dudes that just seemed older than he should be and spent a long time as a Lieutenant, eventually got selected for Lieutenant Commander, but likely wasn’t going much beyond that. That’s not a dig by any means, he just managed to stay in the cockpit his entire career and didn’t get those “checks in the block” that put one on track for higher ranks.
He was a WIZARD with the Tomcat because, as you’ve heard me say often, them damn Bogey Drivers were just SO good at ACM in any platform they flew. He had F-16N Viper time, A-4M Skyhawk time, and F-5E Tiger II time. He could transform the often lumbering F-14A Tomcat into quite the nimble minx (mostly) and would routinely beat up anyone in the squadron. He knew when to control energy to keep the fight going, when to transition into a vertical looping fight or a slow flat-scissors fight, and when to sell the farm (knots) and take a lethal shot. All in all, that’s a GREAT guy to go into Fighter Derby with!!
The day comes for VF-24 to throw their sections at the Bandits and it’s (naturally) beautiful weather. As I recall the scenario, we’d meet in the Restricted Area 2301 West to the west of MCAS Yuma. That’s a huge training range with a TACTS range inside of it (tracked your aircraft) as well as a great target complex called “Cactus West”. A little Fighter lore; years ago the VF-2 Bounty Hunters (callsign “Bullet”) lost a jet out there due to a departure and flat spin. It impacted in a mountain pass in the Barry Goldwater Range and to this day, the site is called “Bullet Pass.” (aircraftarchaeology.com/f14goldwater.h…)
Space and I launch out of Miramar, as ready as we’ll ever be (me at least). After our transit to R-2301 we check in with Range Control and check in with the Bogeys. They were already on-site as they’re doing one engagement per section (you get one run) so they can cycle through 2 or 3 sections pretty easily before they have to RTB to Miramar. Today, a Viper and a Dog (A-4) are on the menu. Or is it going to be Tom Kitty for lunch? We’ll see.
The basics here are that you start with a 30-mile set to give both sections time to acclimate and maneuver as needed to provide the most advantageous merge. The overall score is determined by time-to-kill and if you lose anyone. Key to note is that this is a training evolution. The Bogeys are going to give you a HARD problem, but not an IMPOSSIBLE problem. They will fight you hard but they will not just spank the shit out of you. You’re being judged on how you engage, how you react to perceived bogey mistakes, if you make any mistakes, etc. Again, I will be a hard fight but you can both survive. The question is can you kill them faster than everyone else?
So the set up is ready and we call “Fights On”. Space is on the left (lead) and I’m on the right in 1 mile combat spread, stepped down about a thousand feet (don’t be co-altitude, too easy on the bogies). As we march in, we get radar on the Bogies. At this point we can see two, about a mile apart but don’t know which one is which, Viper or Dog. What you DON’T want to do here is let them “bracket” your section (where both pass outboard me and Space….kiss of death) and you don’t want to meet off center so either Space or I go down their middle; also not good. Best scenario is you bracket THEM, and Space on the left turns right to attack my guy with angles and me on the right, turn left to engage HIS guy with angles. Classic “switch”. Break the hands/pens out, take a minute and think that through…..I’ll wait.
Once you’re within 10 or 15 seconds of a merge, you’re not allowed to try and cross over someone’s nose to change the pass from left-to-left to right-to-right because you could screw it up and collide nose on. Not good (but frankly not painful as you’d never know it happened). As luck would have it, we face the Kobayashi Maru; we’re getting bracketed and can’t maneuver to change it. Wonderful. And I get the Viper……down my right side. Nuts.
As I’m merging with the Viper I take a peak at the Dog passing down Space’s left…..oooh, he’s going nose high right. Towards me but nose up. I have several options, mostly bad, but one that I think might work. Space follows him nose up near vertical to get separation, the Viper turns across my tail and starts pulling for Space, and I elect to roll right and pull OUT of the fight and away from the Dog. Strange, but it works out. You’ll see.
So I’m pulling for my life to get back in the fight, the Dog is struggling to catch up since I got such separation, and the Viper is chasing Space up hill and left. After a 180° I then pitch it pure nose low (straight down) and roll my lift vector to where I THINK Space and the Viper are going to be in about 20 seconds and pull….HARD. The lift vector is an imaginary plane coming out the top of my jet and it’s where you’re pulling to in space. Did I say I was pulling HARD?
After a few seconds, the gray-out starts to impact my vision. When you’re pulling that many G's and you’re body is fighting 7 times the force of gravity in sometimes awkward positions in the cockpit, it’s not hard to let the G get in front of you. You’re doing your “HOOK” maneuver, straining your stomach to keep blood in your head and your G-suit is full inflated, but sometimes it’s not enough. If you’re sitting there looking straight ahead, imagine your peripheral vision going gray at the far left and right and then slowly getting more gray toward the middle, and eventually it takes a circle shape where 80 or 90% of your view is now gray. That’s gray out. The harder you pull the smaller that circle gets. If you ease off, the circle gets bigger. You’re conscious, you talking to your RIO (in this case “Watts”) and you’re flying your jet, you just can’t see all that good.
The timing wasn’t quite right to ease the pull yet; that’s the instinctual part of ACM. You just KNOW how fast you’re turn rating across the sky and you just KNOW when you’ll be nose on the bogie based on where he was and what he’s was doing 30 seconds ago. You just KNOW. I can’t really explain it past that.
I keep the pull on and I’m mostly grayed out for a few more seconds. And then it’s time. Relax the pull and Voila!, I’m in a nose up position looking at beautiful blue sky. And wonder of wonders there’s a Viper in my windscreen and his left rear quarter is showing me some leg. He’s closing in on a shot on Space but my Sidewinder seeker head is already staring to growl. Quick finger fire to get the ‘Winder to lock and “Fox 2 the Viper in a left turn…….kill Viper.”
The Dog is still a bit behind me and not nose on and Space keeps his hard turn in and gets nose on the Dog pretty quick. I come hard left now to get the Dog to chase and he does. A few seconds later Space bags the Dog with a ‘Winder at about a mile. “Knock it off” and head home for a quick debrief and probably beers at the O’Club. That tended to be the default at Miramar.
We didn’t win Fighter Derby that year but our flight did reinforce a few key lessons:
1. I’d rather be lucky than good.
2. Even a blind squirrel finds a Viper once in a while.
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