NIGHT FLIGHT TO IRAQ
ERNIE (TURK) TAVARES
Jan. 16, 1991; 1900 Hr.:
"We're going!"
That simple announcement from "Moondog," our radar navigator,
triggered a flurry of activity. We were going to war with
Iraq.
Jamming last-minute gear into our helmet bags and survival kits, we
jumped on a crew bus and headed for the mission briefing. As one of
the designated lead B-52G crews, we had been on alert at Diego
Garcia since deploying to the Indian Ocean island in August 1990.
Twenty bombers were cocked and ready, loaded with the first
mission's 36 UK-1000 time-delay weapons.
The bus trip was quiet, but there were lots of nervous glances
exchanged. None of us had flown a combat mission before, and Gen.
Chuck Horner had told us a few weeks earlier that the loss rate for
a low-level B-52 strike was expected to be more than 30%. I kept
looking at a picture of my six-week-old daughter, acutely aware
that I hadn't seen her yet.
Crews filed into the operations building for our "Mass Brief"--a
last-minute update of the latest intelligence on five airfield
targets that would be hit simultaneously. For weeks, we'd been
studying our target, an Iraqi dispersal airfield. Much later, we
learned that Iraq's 45th Mechanized Infantry Div. was located
there.
The plan hadn't changed--crank up 20 Buffs and launch 19. Thirteen
aircraft were designated "primaries," and six were airborne spares
that would return to the island after everybody completed airborne
systems checks. At the flightline, crews quickly finished their
preflights and started engines. Soon, 19 bombers, plus 12 KC-135
and seven KC-10 tankers started the "elephant walk," sequencing for
takeoff. Hundreds of troops lined the taxiways, waving as we slowly
rolled toward the runway.
Our B-52 was at its maximum takeoff weight of 488,000 lb., so
takeoff was squirrelly. Tinker, our pilot, and Larry, his copilot,
did one hell of a job, using every bit of runway and lifting off in
the overrun. Impressively, all 38 aircraft were off in about 40
min.--with no aborts.
The fleet fanned out to designated tanker tracks, setting up for
the first of three inflight refuelings that night. During the 6-hr.
outbound flight to Saudi Arabia we refueled twice, taking on
100,000 lb. of JP-4. Our first hook-up occurred close to a bank of
thunderstorms, adding another element of unnecessary
excitement.
As we approached Riyadh, our pilots started a descent to stay under
Iraq's early-warning radar net. The five bomber cells split,
picking up individual ingress routes. Three cells consisted of
three aircraft; the other two were two-ships. Because No. 3 in our
cell couldn't get his radar warning gear to work properly, Tinker
ordered him to wait for us south of Riyadh. We'd pick him up on our
return.
By the time we crossed Tapline Road near the Saudi/Iraqi border, we
were on our planned conditions--300 ft. and 360 kt. The intercom
was dead silent, while Chappie, our electronic warfare officer,
listened for the telltale rasp of radars searching for targets--our
bombers. Gunner Bob, the tail gunner, also was listening intently,
fingers poised by the chaff and flare controls.
The gunner's radar and our terrain avoidance/mapping and Doppler
navigation radars were turned off, keeping radio frequency
emissions to a bare minimum. Both pilots were wearing night-vision
goggles--augmented by a forward-looking infrared (Flir) system and
radar altimeter--to enable flying an aggressive low-altitude
profile through the darkness. We were all amazed to hear the number
of aircraft checking in with AWACS.
At the pre-IP (Initial Point), our formation split into individual
flight tracks, setting us up for the planned multi-axis attack. Now
the real work began. For a successful strike, we had to compress
aircraft spacing as much as possible. We were dropping time-delay
weapons, requiring 20-sec. spacing between B-52s crossing over the
target. That meant that, after a 3,000-mi., 6-hr. flight, I had to
ensure we crossed our target within ± 5 sec.
Timing was complicated by two restrictions--the B-52's bomb door
maximum airspeed of 390 KIAS, and the 370-KIAS minimum-release
airspeed for UK-1000 bombs. My plan was to hit the IP 4 sec. late,
accelerate to 390 KIAS and cross the target as fast as
possible--but on time to avoid running into the other
bombers.
About 5 min. from the IP, Larry saw AAA (anti-aircraft artillery)
arcing up from the northeast horizon. We knew F-117 stealth
fighters had hit Baghdad, and the AAA response was spreading like
ripples on a pond. Larry kept narrating as the AAA got closer, and
Tinker nudged the bomber lower until we were 150 ft. above the
desert. When Larry yelled "Jink," I knew we were taking fire. We
hit the IP 4 sec. late, and I called for a turn and acceleration to
the target.
Tinker, in the midst of evasive jinking, asked for an airspeed
check. I said, "barber pole," meaning he could push the eight
throttles up enough to match the Buff's max indicated airspeed.
With Tinker's hands full of big airplane, Larry watched for AAA and
IR-guided missiles coming up at us, while adjusting the throttles
to keep us on my timeline.
After flying 4 hr. without the radar, Moondog lit it up to scan our
target, and, for the only time during the entire gulf war, got
excited. The radar, GPS and inertial systems laid the crosshairs
squarely over the target's center. Moondog started yelling, "I'm on
it! I'm on it!" Chappie and Gunner Bob kept calling "Clear,"
meaning there were no threat radars or fighters tracking us.
At about 20 sec.-to-go, I called "Track," and Tinker aligned the
Buff to our inbound release track. We only had a ± 5-deg.
tolerance. At 10 sec., I called "Committed," the signal to pop-up
to our 300-ft. release altitude and maintain wings-level over the
target. As I started counting the seconds to release, Larry called,
"Heavy AAA over my window," but evasive maneuvering was no longer
an option. At 2 sec.-to-go, Larry called "Hitting the tail,"
followed by my "Release" call. The jet rocked side-to-side as
1,200-lb. bombs cycled off the racks.
I counted up to the "Stop Release Time"--which prevented bombs from
spilling out of the target area--then called "EAR," clearing
Moondog to hit the Emergency Arm Release and dump any remaining
weapons on the target. Checking that the release lights were out, I
called "racks clear," and Tinker dived back to 150 ft. We were
getting out of Dodge.
After what seemed like hours, the AAA fire died down, and we were
able to stop evasive maneuvering. Our next tasks were to rejoin six
other bombers coming off-target, get through the "de-louse
corridor" to make sure an unfriendly aircraft hadn't tagged along,
and cross the Saudi border to safety.
At Tapline Road, Tinker started a slow climb. We were still wound
up emotionally, but the cockpit was quiet. Larry, whose dad was a
Vietnam-era Green Beret and Medal of Honor recipient, broke the
adrenaline spell and put our mission in perspective.
"You know what this means? Twenty-five-cent beers at the VFW!" With
that thought, we settled in for a 6-hr. flight home.
Tavaras is a CV-22 program manager at Patuxent River, Md.