Second, all pilots were to have an equal chance to gain combat experience, and no pilot was expected to spend more than one year in theater or 100 combat missions over North Vietnam. The constant injection into the F-4, F-100, and F-105 units of bomber and tanker pilots who were not experienced fighter pilots, but who were given a quickie checkout in fighter jets and sent to war, at least hurt and at times crippled the war effort. Often these people wound up in charge by virtue of their rank and tried to lead when they didn’t know what they were doing. Some proved out, but most just muddled around until they finished their 100 missions or were shot down.15

This policy was obviously wrong on several counts, starting with the assumption that all pilots were of equal ability when it came to fighting. It further encouraged unusual tensions and risk avoidance, as pilots tried to stay alive for their 100 missions or their year rather than concentrate on the job of defeating the enemy. (Pilots with 90 missions would really get edgy.) Thus, it removed the primary incentive of a pilot for doing his combat duties to the best of his abilities, the goal of winning.

At Korat, one of the pilots was shot down after about 88 missions. He survived, came back to the base, and wanted to finish his tour flying with the Wild Weasels.

The job of the Wild Weasels was to locate and destroy SAM sites; and it was the job of the number one and three pilots in a Weasel flight of four aircraft to do that. The number two and four pilots were not Weasels; and they flew ordinary F-105Ds with bombs. Their job was to stick close and look out for MiGs while the other two were teasing the sites. If the one and three cornered a SAM site, two and four would drop regular bombs or CBUs on it.

This pilot figured that flying with the Weasels would be a soft touch, since the one and three often left their wingmen on the ridge in comparative safety, while they ventured out on the Red River valley floor to find the SAMs. They could maneuver a lot more aggressively if they didn’t have to take care of a wingman.

As luck would have it, though, on his first mission with the Weasels, this pilot had sixteen SA-2 missiles shot at him. They all missed, but when he returned to base he couldn’t even get drunk. His hands shook so much, he couldn’t hold a glass.

To his credit, he finished his 100 missions, but he became a dip bomber and was never again effective.

A dip bomber was a pilot who went in at 15,000 feet, rolled in over the target, and at 14,000 feet dropped his bombs so they were sure to hit somewhere on the surface of the earth. He then immediately started a climb until he could rejoin the rest of the flight, who’d gone down to much lower altitudes to try to hit the target, even though it meant getting shot at. There were a number of dip bombers at Korat. Some, like this one, evoked sympathy; some were the object of scorn.