We were one day out of Japan aboard the Kitty Hawk in November of 1966. There was an excitement in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. It was the first cruise on an aircraft carrier for many of us. Many had never been to the land of the rising sun and were anxiously awaiting their first liberty in a foreign country.
But even bigger than that, today was the one-day we were within range of the Bears, the biggest Russian bombers in the cold-war arsenal. The more seasoned sailors, the old salts, knew that our nuclear-armed foes would be paying us a visit from the Soviet Union. It was a game played by U.S. and Soviet forces, a strange, dangerous game that was played by each carrier group as they entered Japanese waters. It was like two predators eyeing each other’s strength and weaknesses, probing and prodding each other, preparing for what some thought was an inevitable contest for domination in a nuclear world. The captain and the air boss knew they were coming and they were prepared. Two McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantoms were sitting on catapults with pilots and radar intercept officers at the ready. The deck crews were standing by with huffers (a tractor with a small jet engine used to start jet aircraft) ready to start the F-4s. Flight deck officers were eager to get that ready salute from the pilots so they could signal the cat operator to press the button that would launch the 41000 pound aircraft from zero to over 180 miles per hour in two seconds or less. I don’t know if it was the Kitty Hawk’s radar or one of the picket destroyers that picked up the Bear bomber first, but in the blink of an eye, flight deck activity went from leaning against machines to cranking them up. The cockpit canopies closed, the huffer spun up, forcing high-speed air down the throat of the Phantoms, spinning those turbines up to start speed. The Kitty Hawk turned into the wind, the cat officer gave a turn-to signal, the catapult tech bounced on the cat wire to the plane, the pilots switched on the afterburners, saluted, the cat operator pressed the button and two birds were slingshot into the clear blue skies, fire shooting out the back of the twin engines. It was a beautiful sight to see, more practiced than a dance rehearsal and definitely more serious.
(This picture below shows the game in play. The F-4 isn’t from the Kitty Hawk, but it shows the game was played every time the two players were within range of each other.)
The F-4’s job was to intercept the Bear, jockey around the bomber and keep him as far away from the ship as possible. It was a game of chicken between a hawk and a vulture. The Phantoms kept trying to nudge the Bear away from the ship, but that day the Russian pilot was more skilled at the game. The giant Bear lined up on our flight deck about four miles out, opened up the bomb bay doors and flew stem to stern over the ship at about 600 feet off the deck, snapping pictures of friendly sailors sending up a smart single digit salute. Had it been a real life situation, the super-sonic Phantom would have easily shot down the lumbering Bear, our own surface to air missile batteries would have stopped the big target in the sky; but this was a game of chess and the Russians were chess masters.
(This picture below is a good representation of what we saw, except we were looking up into open bomb bay doors. The bear is recognized by its counter-rotating turboprops.)
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
But even bigger than that, today was the one-day we were within range of the Bears, the biggest Russian bombers in the cold-war arsenal. The more seasoned sailors, the old salts, knew that our nuclear-armed foes would be paying us a visit from the Soviet Union. It was a game played by U.S. and Soviet forces, a strange, dangerous game that was played by each carrier group as they entered Japanese waters. It was like two predators eyeing each other’s strength and weaknesses, probing and prodding each other, preparing for what some thought was an inevitable contest for domination in a nuclear world. The captain and the air boss knew they were coming and they were prepared. Two McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantoms were sitting on catapults with pilots and radar intercept officers at the ready. The deck crews were standing by with huffers (a tractor with a small jet engine used to start jet aircraft) ready to start the F-4s. Flight deck officers were eager to get that ready salute from the pilots so they could signal the cat operator to press the button that would launch the 41000 pound aircraft from zero to over 180 miles per hour in two seconds or less. I don’t know if it was the Kitty Hawk’s radar or one of the picket destroyers that picked up the Bear bomber first, but in the blink of an eye, flight deck activity went from leaning against machines to cranking them up. The cockpit canopies closed, the huffer spun up, forcing high-speed air down the throat of the Phantoms, spinning those turbines up to start speed. The Kitty Hawk turned into the wind, the cat officer gave a turn-to signal, the catapult tech bounced on the cat wire to the plane, the pilots switched on the afterburners, saluted, the cat operator pressed the button and two birds were slingshot into the clear blue skies, fire shooting out the back of the twin engines. It was a beautiful sight to see, more practiced than a dance rehearsal and definitely more serious.
(This picture below shows the game in play. The F-4 isn’t from the Kitty Hawk, but it shows the game was played every time the two players were within range of each other.)
The F-4’s job was to intercept the Bear, jockey around the bomber and keep him as far away from the ship as possible. It was a game of chicken between a hawk and a vulture. The Phantoms kept trying to nudge the Bear away from the ship, but that day the Russian pilot was more skilled at the game. The giant Bear lined up on our flight deck about four miles out, opened up the bomb bay doors and flew stem to stern over the ship at about 600 feet off the deck, snapping pictures of friendly sailors sending up a smart single digit salute. Had it been a real life situation, the super-sonic Phantom would have easily shot down the lumbering Bear, our own surface to air missile batteries would have stopped the big target in the sky; but this was a game of chess and the Russians were chess masters.
(This picture below is a good representation of what we saw, except we were looking up into open bomb bay doors. The bear is recognized by its counter-rotating turboprops.)
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
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