HOME | ABOUT | ADMAN | SDO LOG | BY-LAWS | MEMBER LOGIN | CONTACT US

THE NAVY CROSS

ROGERS, GERALD WINSTON

Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Navy
Attack Squadron 165 (VA-165), U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61)
Date of Action: March 30, 1968

Citation:
The Navy Cross is presented to Gerald Winston Rogers, Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism on 30 March 1968 as a pilot in Attack Squadron ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE (VA-165), embarked in U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61). Lieutenant Commander Rogers was the Pilot of a daring, single-airplane, night attack against the heavily defended and vital Hanoi port facility in North Vietnam. Although his aircraft developed difficulty with the inertial navigation system, Lieutenant Commander Rogers pressed on to the target at an extremely low altitude and high speed in instrument flight conditions. He successfully evaded four surface-to-air missiles, intense radar-directed 57 and 85 millimeter antiaircraft fire, and constant tracking and barrage automatic-weapons fire to drop a devastating string of bombs on target. During retirement from the target area, he encountered heavy automatic-weapons fire necessitating further evasive maneuvers. Due to his low fuel state following these maneuvers, he had to rendezvous with the tanker and refuel in order to complete his recovery. Lieutenant Commander Rogers' heroic actions, professional airmanship, and fearless devotion to duty in the face of grave personal danger were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

PATE, JAMES WILSON, JR.

Lieutenant, U.S. Navy
Attack Squadron 165 (VA-165), U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61)
Date of Action: March 24, 1968

Citation:
The Navy Cross is presented to James Wilson Pate, Jr., Lieutenant, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism on 24 March 1968 as a pilot in Attack Squadron ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE (VA-165), embarked in U.S.S. Ranger (CV-61). Lieutenant Pate served as the Pilot of the first U. S. Navy A-6A night all-weather attack against the strategic and heavily defended Kinh No railroad yard, located on the vital northeast railroad of North Vietnam. Although encountering extremely intense enemy antiaircraft defenses, a barrage of four surface-to-air missiles, and a near miss that momentarily forced his aircraft into uncontrolled flight, Lieutenant Pate continued to press his attack and succeeded in dropping all weapons on target. During egress, Lieutenant Pate encountered a line of thunderstorms and heavy enemy defenses necessitating an aerial refueling in mid air to safely out-maneuver these obstacles and complete his return to his ship. His heroic actions, professional airmanship, and fearless devotion to duty in the face of grave personal risk were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

MCEWEN, ROBERT M.

Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Navy
Attack Squadron 165 (VA-165), U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61)
Date of Action: March 30, 1968

Citation:
The Navy Cross is presented to Robert M. McEwen, Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism on 30 March 1968 as a Naval Flight Officer in Attack Squadron ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE (FA-165), embarked in U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61). Lieutenant Commander McEwen was the Bombardier/Navigator on a daring, single-airplane, night attack against the heavily defended and vital Hanoi port facility in North Vietnam. Although his aircraft developed difficulty with the inertial navigation system, Lieutenant Commander McEwen continued to navigate the aircraft to the target at an extremely low altitude and high speed over rough terrain in instrument flight conditions. While the pilot successfully evaded four surface-to-air missiles, intense radar-directed 57 and 85 millimeter antiaircraft fire, and constant tracking and barrage automatic-weapons fire, Lieutenant Commander McEwen calmly and professionally provided accurate navigation and attack parameters to the pilot, resulting in a devastating string of bombs dropped precisely on target. During retirement from the target area, he assisted his pilot in further evasive maneuvers to avoid heavy concentrations of automatic-weapons fire. Due to a low fuel state, the pilot had to rendezvous and refuel prior to completing recovery. Lieutenant Commander McEwen's heroic actions, professionalism, and fearless devotion to duty in the face of grave personal danger were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

MCDANIEL, EUGENE BAKER (POW)

Captain, U.S. Navy
Prisoner of War (North Vietnam)
Date of Action: June 14 - 29, 1969

Citation:
The Navy Cross is presented to Eugene Baker McDaniel, Captain, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism as a Prisoner of War (POW) in North Vietnam from 14 June to 29 June 1969. Due to an unsuccessful escape attempt by two of his fellow prisoners, his captors launched a vicious round of torture to single out the senior POW's who were to blame for the breakout. During these torture sessions a confession led to exposing him as the communications link between the senior ranking officer of the main prison camp and the adjacent annex detachment. He accepted the responsibility for the escape and fabricated a story of his own planned escape. After interrogation, the enemy severely tortured him in their attempt to obtain information about the organization and policies of the American POW's in the camp. Under the most adverse of conditions, he heroically resisted these cruelties and never divulged the information demanded by the North Vietnamese. His exemplary courage, maximum resistance, and aggressiveness in the face of the enemy reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Naval Service and the United States Armed Forces.
Born: at Craven County, North Carolina
Home Town: Kinston, North Carolina

KRUEGER, ROGER W.

Lieutenant, U.S. Navy
Attack Squadron 165 (VA-165), U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61)
Date of Action: March 24, 1968

Citation:
The Navy Cross is presented to Roger W. Krueger, Lieutenant, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism on 24 March 1968 as a Naval Flight Officer in Attack Squadron ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE (VA-165), embarked in U.S.S. Ranger (CVA-61). Lieutenant Krueger served as the bombardier/navigator for the first U. S. Navy A-6A night, all-weather attack against the heavily defended and strategic Kinh No railroad yard, located on the vital northeast railroad of North Vietnam. Although encountering extremely intense enemy antiaircraft defenses, a barrage of four surface-to-air missiles, and a near miss that forced the aircraft into momentarily uncontrolled flight and degraded his weapon system, Lieutenant Krueger continued to operate the attack system and to provide the necessary navigational and attack parameters to accomplish a successful weapons release on this vital target. During egress, the flight encountered a line of thunderstorms and heavy enemy defenses necessitating an aerial refueling in order to safely outmaneuver these obstacles and complete the return to ship. Lieutenant Krueger's heroic actions, professionalism, and fearless devotion to duty in the face of grave personal danger were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

There have been 128 recipients of the Navy Cross from the Vietnam conflict. These two stories are reprinted from "The Lighter Side" document;

Westerman / Westin Saga

One afternoon CDR Ron Hays, CO VA-85, and myself in Buckeye 1, and LT Bill Westerman and LTJG Brian Westin in Buckeye 2 were scheduled for road recce in Route Package 2 in North Vietnam, armed with MK-82s. Just prior to manning aircraft, a report came into the ship that a bunch of barges were massed up near the mouth of the Vinh River.

The staff (CTF-77), being short of TacAir experience, went ballistic and changed our flight's target to these massed barges, and our ordnance load to NAPALM, of all things. In those days a NAPALM drop had to be executed at a very low altitude and airspeed in order to ensure detonation. We screamed bloody murder about our ordnance change (the target was great!), but to no avail and so we launched on the one and only NAPALM mission (as far as 1 know) north of Route Package 1 in North Vietnam.

The launch and join up were normal with only one small problem with Buckeye 2. Brian's radio system evidently had a short somewhere in the circuit and every time he pressed the ICS button he transmitted on the UHF. This was considered a minor annoyance so we pressed on to the target.

The briefed target tactic was that once the run was commenced, Westy would assume a loose trail position and make his own independent run. We were then to rendezvous over the water and proceed back to marshal. We got the target area, which was only 2 or 3 miles inland, and the barges were there, as briefed, ready for the slaughter. We made our run (all ordnance on target, of course) and pulled off left to head out to the rendezvous area. At this point we heard Brian ask "Are you hit"? Ron and I looked at each other, thinking he was asking us if we were hit and he was telling us something we didn't know.

Just as we started to reply, Brian made his MAYDAY call stating that the pilot was hit and HE WAS FLYING THE AIRPLANE out to feet wet. Brian was flying from the right seat! Of course the flying was a little erratic, but effective, and we made a join up with them in a loose formation at about 7,000 feet over the water.

A single rifle bullet, about the size of a 30-30, had entered the aircraft through the lower left aft portion of the canopy and gone through Westy's shoulder. It probably would have been a clean wound, but the bullet shattered against Westy's Koch parachute fastener and ripped his whole left chest open. Westy was able to fly the airplane to feet wet but Westy's left arm and hand were completely immobi­lized, so he told Brian to take over the stick while Westy used his right hand to manipulate the throttles. Brian was a very busy boy at this point trying to fly, communicate, and take care of Westy. At this point, Westy was experiencing cycles of tunnel vision. His vision would blur and narrow down to a constricted tunnel and then expand back to normal. Finally, Brian remembered he had a miniature of the Flight Surgeon's brandy in his nav bag. He broke this open and fed it to Westy who revived enough at this point to realize he had better do something quick. He told Brian to eject. But Brian chose to wait until Westy ejected. Westy then jettisoned the canopy and ejected. By the time Brian got himself ready for ejection, the airplane had gone on about 5 or 6 miles.

Meanwhile, back in Buckeye 1, I switched to guard and broadcast a MAYDAY with our loca­tion which was about 10 miles east of Tiger Island. Red Crown answered immediately and got the SAR helo on the way. We were still flying a loose formation and saw the canopy separate from Buckeye 2. We saw one ejection, lost the parachute, but finally picked up a raft and circled it. Since Ron and I had only seen one ejection we assumed that Westy had gone in with the airplane. What really happened was we saw Westy's ejection, lost him, and then picked up Brian in his raft thinking the whole time that it was the same person!

At this point, the SAR SPAD flight arrived on the scene. The SARCAP was VA-115 (ARABS) from CAG 13 on Kitty Hawk. They were the last SPAD squadron to deploy to North Vietnam, prior to their transition to A-6A. The flight leader was LCDR Cliff Johns who relieved us as SAR Commander. He located Brian in his raft and vectored the helo in for pickup. We watched Brian's rescue. The helo pilot then came on the air to say he had successfully rescued Brian, and that Brian said the pilot had ejected before him. This was the first indication we had that Westy was still alive.

Naturally an intensive search by all the aircraft in the area was set up to find Westy. After about 5 minutes. Cliff Johns saw a tracer cross his nose, dropped down and there was Westy. What happened was that Westy, after he got in the water and out of his chute, was unable to locate his raft. (It was lost in the ejection). Westy had tucked his dead arm under the lap belt to keep it from flailing and thinks this action may have inadvertently jettisoned his raft). In the meantime, he's watching all these planes and helos flying all over the Tonkin Gulf, but none are anywhere near him. Getting desperate, Westy somehow managed to get his pencil flare out and get it armed with one round. He vowed to shoot down the first plane that came in range. When Cliff set out to find Westy, he happened to fly right over Westy who aimed his pencil flare directly at Cliff and that was the tracer Cliff saw.

The helo was vectored in over Westy posthaste and the sling was dropped for pickup. Westy had been bleeding profusely and was in the middle of a pool of blood. Due to his wound Westy was unable to get into the sling. The helo did not have a swimmer on board, and Brian, who by this time had stripped off his torso harness and was wearing only his "G" suit and flight suit ordered the sling operator to lower him into the water. Brian then got Westy into the sling and Westy was brought on board the helo successfully. When they tried to lower the sling to pick up Brian the winch jammed and could not be operated. Westy was in desperate need of medical attention, so Brian waved the helo off and the helo called in the backup helo and went back to Red Crown, leaving Brian in the bloody water. He used his "G" suit as a flotation device by unzipping it and manually blowing it up. Sharks had been sighted in the area and Brian floated in that bloody pool of water for an eternity (in reality about fifteen minutes) until the backup helo picked him up and returned him to Kitty Hawk.

Westy had a lengthy and painful recovery, but went on to retire as a Captain, logging over 1,000 carrier landings and commanding an LPH. Brian went on to a career in EA'6Bs and was awarded a Navy Cross for his heroic actions in this incident.

HANOI TONIGHT...

On the night of 30 October 1967, a lone A-6 Intruder jet aircraft was launched from a Seventh Fleet carrier in the Gulf of Tonkin. Its target was in Hanoi—the most heavily defended city in the world, and perhaps in the history of air warfare. For this single-plane strike, the pilot. Lieutenant Commander Charles Hunter, U. S. Navy, and the bombardier-navigator. Lieutenant Lyle Bull, U.S. Navy, were awarded the Navy Cross for "extra-ordinary heroism" and performance "above and beyond the call of duty.” This is their story. (Written by LCDR William Graves, PAO COMSEVENFLT, in the July 1969 U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings).

The previous afternoon was like many others. The two had coffee in the stateroom Bull shared with an­other bombardier-navigator from their unit - Attack Squadron 196. Bull had just finished the planning for a routine night hop in which they would be going after trucks in North Vietnam. Finding and hitting moving targets in complete darkness was no trick for the crew or the highly sophisticated electronic black boxes in the A-6 Intruder. "Piece of cake," they called it. They discussed the mission thoroughly, but Bull did the actual planning. The pilot looked over his navigator's work very carefully, but, as was usually the case, made no changes.

The final weather briefing was scheduled for 1800. There was time to relax—it was only 1630—until a phone call from the squadron duty officer changed their plans. "Better get down to IOIC, Lyle”, said the duty officer, "you're going to Hanoi tonight.”

In IOIC (Integrated Operational Intelligence Center), Lieutenant Junior grade Pete Barrick, U. S. Navy, the squadron air intelligence officer, was ready for them. Charts were spread out on a long table. While Barrick left to get the target folder, Hunter and Bull glanced at the air defense charts of the Hanoi area, noting fresh red markings which indicated new surface-to-air missile (SAM) sites. In addition, hundreds of black dots showed anti-aircraft gun positions, and in the vicinity of their target—the Hanoi railroad ferry slip—it was almost solid. Hunter said one approach looked as bad as another.

This was to be a single-plane strike. The success of the mission depended entirely upon one A-6 and its crew. Barrick, Hunter, and Bull studied the target carefully. The photography of the area was good. Exact measurements were made to provide precise inputs for the computers in the aircraft. The Hanoi air defenses were evaluated. Hunter's initial impression was right, there was no best way to get in or out. It was going to be rough because Hanoi was loaded.

Leaving IOIC, the two of them went up to the forward wardroom for a quick dinner. The meal was served cafeteria style. There was a short waiting line made up mostly of their squadron mates. "Stand back, you guys, here come Charlie and Lyle. They go first. This may be their last meal," said one of the young officers. The two aviators laughed self-consciously and moved to the head of the line. There was more joking, but pervading it all was the uncomfortable feeling that perhaps the well-intended humor was getting too close to the truth.

The whole squadron knew Hanoi for what it was—a closely-knit web of anti-aircraft guns and SAM sites. There were at least 560 known anti-aircraft guns of various calibers in the area Hunter and Bull were to fly over. Thirty MIG aircraft were based within a few seconds' flying time from their target. They knew full well that the flight should be opposed by 15 "hot" SAM sites—sites that had been firing with devastating accuracy in previous days. During intelligence briefings, they were told that the North Vietnamese were transferring additional defense fire-power to protect their capital city.

Hunter and Bull did not discuss the fact that they might not make it back. After all, six other crews from their squadron had gone through the heart of Hanoi three nights before. They took missiles and flak, but they all came home without a scratch. But that strike was different. It was one of the first strikes to hit in the area of the railroad ferry slip, and it obviously took the North Vietnamese defenders by surprise. The planes shot through with ten-minute separations, but each successive aircraft encountered steadily increasing defensive fire. Six SAMs were fired at the last plane.

Commander Robert Blackwood, U. S. Navy, the squadron's executive officer, returned from the raid con­vinced that the luxury of surprise would not be available to any more multiplane strikes going into Hanoi - but a single plane might make it. He discussed the alternatives available with the task force commander, as well as the odds of success and survival. They both knew that shore-based as well as carrier-based aircraft had taken a terrible "hosing down" in the Hanoi area. The Admiral was convinced that there was no single best way of accomplishing this mission, but he also believed in making frequent variations in tactics. If they were to achieve surprise, the strike would have to go in low and at night. Could the A-6 do it? Hunter and Bull would be the first to know.

The launch, when it came, was much the same as the many that had preceded it. The catapult hurled the 27-ton aircraft down the deck with the always-impressive acceleration force that, in a space of 230 feet, pro­pelled the aircraft to an air speed of 150 knots. The A-6 was airborne from its home, the attack carrier USS Constellation (CVA-64).

The lone Intruder swept over the beach at the coast-in point they called the "armpit” an inlet north of Thanh Hoa and south of Nam Dinh. The planned approach to the target used the rocky hills to the southwest of Hanoi in order to take advantage of the radar "masking" which they provided. Absolute minimum altitude would be the only way the A-6 would be able to stay below the lethal envelope of a radar-guided SAM. The jet, moving at 350 knots, was now at an altitude of 500 feet.

As the jet flew to within 18 miles of the target, a signal flashed in the cockpit, indicating that a SAM radar was locked on the A-6. Immediately Hunter snapped, "Take me down." With precision accuracy, Bull guided the pilot by search radar down to 300 feet, with the jagged hills rising on either side. At the lower altitude, their instruments indicated they had lost the SAM lock-on. In the radar scope, Bull could see only the ridges of the hills on both sides above them and the reflection of the valley floor below.

Four miles straight ahead was the initial point (IP), a small island in the Red River. The IP would be the final navigational aid en route to the target. From this spot, distance and bearing had been precisely measured to the railroad ferry slip. Both the pilot and navigator had to work as one if the mission was to be a success.

With his eves fixed on the radar scope, Bull placed the crossed hairs on the IP in his radar screen. At the proper instant, Hunter was ready to turn on the final inbound-leg to the target. And again the warning flashed that another SAM radar had locked onto the A-6. Hunter eased the aircraft down to less than 200 feet, and he moved the stick to the left as the A-6 passed just short of the island in the Red River. The target was now ten miles ahead. The SAM warning signal did not break off with the drop in altitude. As the Intruder flew at near tree-top level, Hunter and Bull could see a missile lift off from its pad. The SAM was locked-on and guiding perfectly toward the cockpit of the Intruder.

Hunter waited until the last second, and then he yanked back on the stick, pulling the aircraft into a steep climb. With the nose of the A-6 pointed almost straight up, the SAM exploded underneath it. The laden bomber shook violently, but continued into a modified barrel-roll, topping out at 2,500 feet. At the peak of the high-G roll, the A-6 was on its back. Bull raised his head and could see the ground beneath him lit up by flak. The Intruder rolled out close to the target heading. Bull fixed his attention on the radar scope, noting that the radar cursors had stayed on the target through the roll. "I'm stepping the system into attack,” he told Hunter.

Something caught his eye and he looked up, "I have two missiles at two o'clock, Charlie”, Bull announced. “And I have three missiles at ten o'clock," was Hunter's cool reply. Evasion was virtually impossible with five missiles guiding in on the A-6 from two different directions. Hunter quickly maneuvered the plane, dropping the A-6 to 50 feet. The terrain, illuminated by flak, appeared to be level with the wing tips. Bull could clearly see trucks and people on the road below. They were now only seconds from the target. The five missiles guided perfectly in azimuth, but could not reach down to the A-6. Bull sensed that the missiles exploded above the canopy, but he didn't look up. His attention was momentarily fixed on the ground where multiple rows of anti-aircraft guns were firing at the aircraft. He watched the muzzle blasts as the jet shot past each row. They were like mileage markers along the road to the ferry slip. Then came the searchlights, scanning the sky as if celebrating the opening of a giant new supermarket. Some illuminated the Intruder mo­mentarily, but could not stay with the speeding aircraft.

Now they were on the target. On signal, Hunter eased back on the stick and the bomber moved up to 200 feet. The next 3.5 seconds would be critical to the accuracy of the bomb drop. Hunter must hold the wings level and the course steady, so that Bull and the computers could do the job they had come so far to accomplish. The weapons, eighteen 500-pound bombs fell toward the ferry slip. Feeling the loss of nearly 10,000 pounds of dead weight, Hunter pulled the A-6 into a hard, right turn. The aircraft was turned into an outbound, southeast heading and Hunter, giving the Communist gunners a run for their money, began maneuvering the aircraft up and down, back and forth. Again the SAM warning was given—four more missiles were locked on the Intruder. They followed, but could not track the Intruder through its evasive maneuvers and they exploded above and behind. They passed over another flak site without incident, and then they were safely on their way back to the USS Constellation. For the first time Charlie Hunter and Lyle Bull had time to realize what they had been through.

Only a limited number of military airmen have challenged the main battery of guns in the Hanoi area of North Vietnam. Fewer yet can claim membership in the elite group who have successfully flown unescorted, at night, over North Vietnam's capital city. For those of the latter group, certainly, any subsequent, new experience promised to be anticlimactic.

HOME | ABOUT | JOIN | ARCHIVES | CONTACT US