Talking Proud: Service & Sacrifice
Electric Goons of Naked Fanny
“The mere thought of flying a tail dragger is intimidating
to outright terrifying to pilots who haven’t flown them.”
A Goonie Pilot
The translation of this report’s title is EC-47s at Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai Air Force Base (RTAFB), Thailand, during the US-Indochina War. These aircraft conducted Airborne Radio Direction Finding (ARDF) missions over the Republic of Vietnam (RVN), Laos, and Cambodia during that war, staging from NKP Thailand.
The C-47 was built by Douglas and nicknamed the Dakota or Skytrain. It is a military transport aircraft developed from the Douglas DC-3 airliner. The C-47 was fitted with a cargo door in the aft port area big enough to admit a jeep, and the cargo hold received a strengthened floor. The C-47’s maiden flight was on December 23, 1941, shortly after the American entry into WWII. Douglas offered a conversion in the late 1940s to improve takeoff and single-engine performance, and to increase air speed.
For the Indochina war, the C-47 continued her transport duties but took on additional missions, such as electronic reconnaissance and gunship. The electronic reconnaissance aircraft came in three styles: the EC-47N, EC-47P, and EC-47Q. I will address these in more detail later.
Their mission was twofold:
- Collect communications intelligence (COMINT) by intercepting enemy communications
- Locate those communications transmitters through ARDF.
Enemy communications transmitters were thought to be close to a tactical commander and his forces. The thought was if you locate the transmitter, you’ve located the enemy unit.
For the most part, the EC-47s targeted low-powered high-frequency communications, which the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong (VC) communist tactical units routinely used.
The Crews
The aircrews for these ARDF missions were from two organizations.
The 460th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing (TRW) at Tan Son Nhut Air Base (AB), Republic of Vietnam (RVN) provided the EC-47 aircraft, pilots, navigators, and aircraft maintenance. It did this through three Tactical Electronic Warfare Squadrons (TEWS):
- 360th TEWS, Tan Son Nhut Air Base (AB), Republic of Vietnam (RVN)
- 361st TEWS, Nha Trang AB, RVN, Phu Cat AB, RVN, NKP RTAFB, Thailand, and Ubon RTAFB
- 362nd TEWS, Pleiku AB, RVN, Phan Rang AB, RVN, and Da Nang AB, RVN, and Ubon RTAFB, Thailand
EC-47 units moved with the flow of the war, the pace of the Vietnamization program, and the US departure from the RVN. The EC-47s began work from Tan Son Nhut AB, RVN and terminated operations at Ubon RTAFB, Thailand.
The 6994th Security Squadron (SS) at Tan Son Nhut AB, RVN, and its detachments in the RVN and Thailand, provided the Communications Intelligence (COMINT) intercept and ARDF operators, analysts, and equipment maintenance. It had detachments located at the same bases as the aircraft. I served with Detachment 3, 6994th SS at NKP which explains why I titled this story the way I did. Nakhon Phanom was affectionately known as “Naked Fanny.”
The pilots, navigators, and flight engineers belonged to the TEWS. The pilots and the navigators were commissioned officers. The 6994th crews were always enlisted, oftentimes first or second-term airmen.
The 6994th SS crews held security clearances known as “TS/SCI,” or Top Secret Sensitive Compartmented Intelligence. In most cases, the navigator held a similar set of clearances as he had to work so closely with the enlisted crew. He sat in the back end with the enlisted crew, able to see all their classified working aids. The Airborne Missions Supervisor (AMS) led the COMINT effort and usually carried the mission bag with the classified data in it, along with the crypto key settings for secure communications.
Most often, the pilot and co-pilot held only “Secret” clearances, which was awkward for the pilots. Decisions were made at higher levels that the pilots did not have the “need to know.” The 6994th crews worked very hard to sanitize the mission and inform the pilots of what was happening. I have seen some memoirs from operators who opined that there was very little to nothing that was classified TS/SCI, and they could not understand what all the fuss was about.
Everyone on the crew was mission essential. The AMS was in charge of acquiring a target and conducting the ARDF Line-Of-Bearing (LOB) process. This would often mean that the AMS, maintaining the respect required between enlisted and officers, would ask the navigator to do what the AMS needed done to get a good target lock-on, which would give a good target fix. In almost all instances, the pilots and navigators did their best to comply with the AMS’s requests.
Most often, the pilots and co-pilots were first and second lieutenants, sometimes captains. They were young and had been trained in jets to earn their wings. I imagined most of them wanted fighters, then maybe bombers, then maybe transports. My guess is that very few of them asked to fly the old Electric Goon, an aircraft usually older than they were. I’m sure they would take some razzing in the Club from their colleagues flying the other kinds of aircraft. That said, I noticed an air about our pilots. Professional, but usually carefree.
I was most impressed by these young pilots. They might not have liked their predicament flying these old tubs, and they might have fooled around a lot, but they took their jobs seriously. Most impressive to me was that they knew their aircraft inside and out.
I was in two in-flight emergency situations over Laos, and in each instance, my pilots brought us home single-engine; in one instance, one engine had caught fire, and they had to extinguish it. There was never hesitation, never any sign of panic; there was always sharp judgment and decisiveness. And, there was always a whole bunch of know-how regarding what to do. I’m very proud to have served with them. They have my everlasting respect.
The navigators, especially later in the war, were often majors and lieutenant colonels, frequently the highest-ranking officer aboard. But if a first lieutenant were the aircraft commander, the rank played no role. The men of the TEWS and 6994th were a bunch of characters to be sure, but during a mission, it was business and teamwork.
The navigator was usually one busy guy. First, he had to guide the pilots to the mission areas and then coordinate with the AMS and pilots once in the mission areas. He also had to take the X position’s ARDF data and plot it on a map, which in many instances could be an arduous process, lots of math and calculations involved.
The EC-47 Aircraft
EC-47s flew over all of Indochina from bases in the RVN and Thailand during the US war there. They were unarmed and not escorted. They flew alone within a large target box area, which I will address later. The pilots would usually check in with the Airborne Battlefield Command and Control Center (ABCCC) C-130 and report when they crossed into enemy territory, in USAF vernacular, “crossing the fence,” when they departed enemy territory, and “Ops Normals” every 30-60 minutes or so, or report emergencies during flight.
The EC-47, like all C-47s, was a “tail dragger.” Being a tail dragger meant that she rested on two wheels forward and one wheel aft. During the takeoff roll, the rear wheel was the first to come off the ground, while the forward two wheels remained on the runway. The pilot had to employ his rudder and a lot of eye-hand-foot coordination to keep her straight down the runway, after which, at about 80-90 knots, she would slowly lift off. He landed the same way. First touch down with the front two wheels, then slowly let down the rear wheel. One pilot has said:
“The mere thought of flying a tail dragger is intimidating to outright terrifying to pilots who haven’t flown them.”
Handling a tail dragger loaded up with electronic equipment and crew took a little force of character, let’s say. Even taxiing this beast in the winds could be a challenge.
One pilot remarked:
“The airframe of the C-47 protests being taxied with sounds like the inside of an old clipper ship during a storm. Once the aircraft is moving on a long straight path, the best way to keep from wandering is to engage the tail wheel lock. This is especially important during strong crosswinds. Failure to lock the wheel will result in the aircraft turning into the wind.”
He also commented this way about take-offs:
“For takeoff, the aircraft is lined up with the center of the runway, tail wheel locked, main wheels’ brakes locked, and manifold pressure brought up to 25 in. If nothing shakes off the wings, the brakes are unlocked, and pressure is brought up to 45 1/2 in. at 2,500 rpm.
“Forward pressure must be applied on the control column to keep the aircraft level and prevent it from trying to get into the air before it’s ready to fly. At 97 mph, you can reduce the forward pressure, and the aircraft will become airborne. Manifold pressure is 39 1/2 in. at 2,300 rpm for climbing. Once this is set, the cowl flaps are closed.”
That said, he added that once proficient, a matter of five or so hours, and especially with a bunch of combat flights under his belt, the tail dragging pilot would walk around with his chest out with pride and many who would go on to the more modern tricycle landing gears would get misty eyed thinking back to the days when they flew that old “Goonie Buggy.”
The aircraft flew slowly, at about 100-120 knots. She usually flew at about 10,000 ft. but would have to vary her altitudes depending on the weather. She might get down to 5-8,000 ft. or up to as high as 12,000 ft. for a limited period of time. She was not pressurized. Some of our younger airmen, used to flying the friendly skies of United back home, could not believe they were being put in an unpressurized aircraft!
The EC-47 cockpit was cramped. There was a hatch just behind the pilots intended for their use to bail out. It was small, and it was arguable whether the pilots could have escaped from it. Most pilots with whom I flew felt they could not use it. They either said they would try to run to the back and bail out the side door or attempt to land the aircraft and take the consequences.
One pilot has written:
“Flying the Douglas C-47 Skytrain is not for the faint of heart. The tail dragger sits high on its main landing gear. This makes getting from the entrance door into the cockpit like climbing a flight of stairs.
“Just starting the big radials of the C-47 can be an adventure. Standard procedure is to hold the starter and then counting until twelve propeller blades have revolved before you. Turn on the magnetos and you should be rewarded with clouds of black smoke as each of 14 engine cylinders comes alive.”
The weather was a big issue throughout Indochina. Massive storms could pop up out of nowhere, and the pilots had to be very careful to anticipate the weather and not get caught up in it. Missions in the early days, when anti-aircraft artillery was not yet so prolific and accurate, might fly as low as 5,000 ft.
The EC-47 required visual flight rules, VFR. Navigation equipment was minimal. Avoiding thunderstorms, which could pop up at any moment in Indochina, was a constant requirement for the flight crew. Usually, they were able to avoid them, but quite often had to fly through cloud cover and even climb up to 11,000-12,000 ft. to get above the weather, or descend to get below it. The flight through clouds was usually uneventful, but on occasion, it could bounce the aircraft around to cause a few white knuckles.
The pilots had a thorough checklist with engines running and positioned just before turning onto the runway. They would often find problems that would require them to go back to the parking ramp and receive attention, while the crews hid under the shade of the wings, waiting. I recall the magnetos being a big issue during engine run-ups. The magneto is an electrical generator that uses permanent magnets to produce pulses of high voltage alternating current. This high voltage enables a spark to jump between the poles of a spark plug in the engine; in short, it produces an ignition spark.
This photo shows what most pilots would say are the “brains of the aircraft,” what’s known as the “Throttle Quadrant.” During the takeoff roll, the pilots concentrated on three sets of controls: the prop pitch controls (left), the power throttles (middle), and the mixture controls (right), affecting the richness of the fuel being employed at any moment. At the very far left is the trim wheel (nose up and nose down). There were other controls in and around this area.
As we would roll down the runway, the pilot not executing the takeoff would sound off speeds and at a certain speed, call out “rotate,” at which time the pilot would execute takeoff. I believe he would rotate at about 85-90 knots, and I think they landed at about 70-75 knots, not far from stall. In any event, all the while during the takeoff roll, the rest of the crew would watch out the windows looking for anything abnormal, such as excessive smoke or a fire. If any crewmember felt the takeoff was going to be unsafe, he could sound off through the intercom, “Abort, abort, abort.” It would then be up to the aircraft commander whether to abort or take off, which he might have to do because the aircraft was committed and was running out of runway.
For example, I read one Goonie pilot saying that he was enjoying a nice takeoff roll, he had reached 85-90 knots, and was about to lift the nose when all of a sudden the right engine backfired and momentarily lost power, losing power for about one second, then seeming to return to takeoff power. The pilot said so many thoughts raced through his mind so rapidly, each highlighting an option and a possible consequence, but he had no time to verbalize any of them. His bottom line was that he could not trust his right engine, which complicated multiple options he was considering, so he radioed the tower, “Abort, abort, abort.” He was fortunate to have a long runway and pulled her to a stop, “climbing on the brakes,” as he said.
The aircraft, even with its heavy load of electronic equipment, could fly single-engine. My own experience was to observe this happening twice, both times over Laos. As I recall, one was an engine that was shaking, rattling, and rolling; the other was a blown spark plug that caused a small engine fire. In both cases, the engines had to be feathered, and the propeller stopped. It was eerie looking out at an engine whose propeller was not turning. In both cases, the crew was very professional. In both cases, the aircraft commander gave us the choice of bailing out. He ordered us to suit up, which meant get that survival vest on, the parachute harness on, and then pass the chest chutes forward to be attached to the harness. In both cases, a bailout was not necessary, and the pilots babied their Goonie back home with perfect landings, to which we all applauded. No one wanted to bail out in Laos.
One of these instances did have a light moment. This was a night flight over eastern southern Laos out of Ubon RTAFB. This was the one where we blew a spark plug. The pilot radioed Ubon Tower that he had an IFE, “In Flight Emergency,” and explained the problem. He said he was heading back to Ubon and was about 100 miles out.
Ubon was, in the main, an F-4 Phantom fighter base, and the tower immediately started putting the F-4s coming in for landings into holding patterns. Once our Goonie pilot recognized what was happening, he called the Tower and told them he was an EC-47 and it would take over an hour to get back to Ubon. He recommended the Tower start landing his F-4s before they all ran out of fuel! I think the Tower guy was not used to handling such slow movers. We all got a chuckle out of that, even though each of us had a nervous stomach of some sort.
