Navy pilots recall the final, frenetic days of the air war over Vietnam.

Although now a museum, the USS Midway continues to inspire awe. As visitors stream onto the aircraft carrier’s four-acre flightdeck—located on San Diego’s waterfront—they might be overwhelmed by the immensity of the ship, but once they get their bearings, many gravitate toward a McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II, marked by five MiG silhouettes painted on part of the engine intake.

During the Vietnam War, 197 MiGs were shot down. In June 1965, the Phantom II fighters based on Midway were credited with the first two MiG kills of the conflict. Fifty years ago, in January 1973, the last MiG kill of the long bitter war was also credited to an F-4 launched from Midway’s deck. (Midway itself would lose 44 of its aircraft to enemy action.)

The pace of the air campaign during the final year of the Vietnam War was especially grueling for U.S. Navy Fighter Squadron 161 (VF-161), known as the Chargers. During Operation Linebacker—a bombing campaign conducted in response to North Vietnam’s massive invasion of South Vietnam in spring 1972—the squadron was on the battle line for 205 days. “We went after the North aggressively and flew all kinds of missions—fleet defense, armed reconnaissance, Alpha strikes, and photo recon escorts,” says Jim “Wizzer” Wise, a radar intercept officer (RIO) attached to VF-161. “We did everything the F-4 could do.”

“I think VF-161 was the perfect squadron,” says Pete La Chat, a former Navy lieutenant. “It was a matter of leadership—skipper Deacon Connell was one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met.” La Chat credits Connell for fostering a warrior culture within the squadron, in which VF-161’s fighter crews were highly motivated to bag MiGs. “I was a combat pilot, that’s what I wanted,” says La Chat. “The skipper wanted a MiG probably even worse than I did. His attitude was: ‘A MiG on your six is better than no MiG at all.’”

Dogfighting Machines

When La Chat arrived aboard the USS Midway, operating in the Gulf of Tonkin in late 1971, peace talks were under way. But while the North Vietnamese talked peace in Paris, they were preparing a major thrust south that became known as the Easter Offensive.

Reporting to VF-161’s ready room at 2300 hours his first night aboard Midway, La Chat found squadron members gleefully waiting to introduce the new guy to a squadron tradition. Says La Chat: “After introducing myself to Commander Wayne ‘Deacon’ Connell, the skipper says, ‘Let’s say hello to Pete. Let’s stone the bastard.’ ” With that, La Chat was bombarded with balls of newspaper wrapped in tape. With the welcome aboard ritual complete, “it was quickly down to business, and I was assigned an early morning armed recce [reconnaissance] flight with the skipper,” says La Chat.

“It was a terrific squadron with a Hollywood handsome skipper who truly cared about his men and did his best to bring everybody back,” says La Chat. New pilots joining the squadron were initially paired with an experienced RIO and flew as a senior pilot’s wingman. The old hands would guide the new guys as they gained experience, and in La Chat’s case, his RIO was Lieutenant John “Jack” Ensch—a highly respected “backseater” who regularly took green pilots under his wing.

The number of different tactical missions the pilots of VF-161 flew confirms the versatility of the squadron’s F-4Bs. The fighters had been designed to meet a 1950s U.S. Navy requirement for a high-speed interceptor that could quickly climb, engage, and counter the threat posed by Soviet nuclear-armed bombers. The F-4s reflected the prevailing beliefs of the time—that the “knife fight in a phone booth” style of air combat was passé.

Instead, Navy planners thought future air combat would be fought beyond visual range—with the F-4’s crew of two employing radar-guided AIM-7 Sparrow air-to-air missiles. Consequently, F-4 training doctrine emphasized radar intercepts and Sparrow missile engagements. The era of button-pushing combat had arrived, eliminating the need for dogfighting and a gun…or so it was thought.

However, as F-4 crews quickly learned, Vietnam-era rules of engagement required crews to visually identify a target before attacking. This negated any advantages of the AIM-7. “By the time you could see the other guy, you were usually inside the minimum range of the Sparrow,” says Ensch. Fortunately, McDonnell Aircraft had produced a fighter that proved surprisingly adaptable for a variety of missions, and with the right tactics it became a potent adversary in close-range aerial combat.

“Our skipper was adamant about training to dogfight,” says Wise. The officer tasked with teaching new pilots and RIOs these essential survival skills was Lieutenant Commander Ronald “Mugs” McKeown. Mugs was pure fighter pilot, a self-assured aviator who had flown both MiG-17s and MiG-21s—provided by the Israelis—in simulated dogfights against U.S. aircraft during evaluation flights conducted at Groom Lake, Nevada, in the late 1960s. He instinctively knew how to fly and fight the F-4 to its best advantage when battling these nimble Soviet fighters.

“Mugs was probably the squadron’s premier fighter pilot, with the attitude to go along with it,” says La Chat. “You’d call his house, and his daughters would answer the phone saying: ‘Good evening, this is the home of Mugs McKeown, the greatest fighter pilot in the world.’ ” An outstanding boxer while attending the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, McKeown also delighted in passing out business cards that read: “LCDR Ron Lee McKeown, the world’s greatest fighter pilot, lessons given on request.”

The lessons came fast and furious. In 1970, McKeown had established an air combat maneuvering training program for VF-161 pilot-RIO teams, which gave Phantom II crews the confidence to handle any MiG encounter. “Mugs was the one who really taught us dogfighting,” says La Chat. “Mugs could put me on his six and within about two turns, he was on my six.”

After his workups with Mugs, “I was confident enough to know that I had enough training and experience to go out and beat a MiG,” says La Chat. “No doubt in my mind. We’d go out and just wish they would come.” When asked about the strengths of the F-4, La Chat answers with a single word: “Power.”

“It outpowered almost anything out there, but it had to be fought right, and the proper way to fight was not trying to turn with a MiG,” he says. Instead of slowing down to match the turns of the more agile Soviet fighters, pilots became adept at flying a maneuver called a yo-yo, which used the F-4’s superior speed and thrust to zoom up behind an enemy, converting airspeed to altitude. Once attaining a favorable tactical position, pilots would dive after the MiG to reengage. “You couldn’t get into a turning fight with a MiG,” says La Chat. “Guys died trying.”

It’s Raining MiGs

Putting theory into practice, Mugs and his long-time RIO Jack Ensch would seize an opportunity to give six MiG pilots of the Vietnamese People’s Air Force (VPAF) some flying lessons.

On May 23, 1972, McKeown led a flight of two F-4s on a MiGCAP (combat air patrol) escorting an Alpha strike near the port city of Hai Phong. Each Phantom carried four AIM-7 Sparrow and four AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. McKeown and Ensch, flying as Rock River 100, soon got a report of two bandits approaching fast at low altitude. They turned to engage, but quickly realized the two silver MiG-19s were bait when four camouflaged MiG-17 Frescos materialized behind the -19s to spring the trap. Ensch recalls Mugs’ terse remark: “It’s raining MiGs.”

Two of the MiGs went after McKeown’s wingman—Rock River 112—down low, while McKeown was engaged with the other two MiGs up above them. Mugs flew the Phantom II to its limits and beyond, at one point tumbling out of control to avoid being shot down. Nonetheless, he still managed to twice position himself behind two MiG-17s, firing Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles at each—which, to his frustration, failed to track the wildly maneuvering enemy fighters.

Yet another MiG swept in behind, blazing away with its cannons. Ensch, keeping a lookout aft, immediately called out the threat: “We’ve got one at our four o’clock, closing fast and shooting.” McKeown forced the enemy pilot to overshoot by coming out of afterburner, popping speed brakes, and putting negative Gs on his jet. Once directly astern the MiG-17, Mugs launched another Sidewinder, which severed the MiG’s tail.

Meanwhile, Rock River 112 was trying to shake off a MiG-17 that was dogging their tail. Mugs saw the situation from above and directed them to draw the MiG in the direction that gave Rock River 100 the opportunity to get behind it and shoot off its tail. The remaining MiGs had had enough and broke off.

McKeown and Ensch were both awarded the Navy Cross for their actions that day, and McKeown was later selected to command the U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School—better known as Top Gun.

Dancing with Death

For most U.S. pilots, an encounter with a MiG was a rare occurrence. That didn’t stop La Chat from trying to snag one of his own. He sought to improve his chances by volunteering for high-risk missions that escorted unarmed Vought RF-8 Crusaders on photo-reconnaissance operations. “The North Vietnamese knew immediately after an Alpha strike, there’s going to be an RF-8 and an F-4 coming on a BDA run [bomb damage assessment],” says La Chat. “They’d be waiting for us.”

 La Chat never saw a MiG. What he did encounter were Soviet-supplied SA-2 surface-to-air missiles (SAMs). The missiles were well-camouflaged and typically surrounded by anti-aircraft artillery, making them difficult to attack.

While returning from a reconnaissance escort mission deep into North Vietnam in August 1972, the cockpit’s radar homing and warning system in La Chat’s F-4 activated, indicating the aircraft was being targeted by a SAM site. “The key to evading a SAM is that you had to see them,”says La Chat. “If you saw them, you had a pretty good chance of dodging them. Problem was, there was a low SCUD [scattered cumulus under deck] layer that day, and I couldn’t see the ground.”

“The cockpit [audio] warning went to high warble, and sure enough, up out of the clouds came these two SAMs—one was clearly going high, and one going low,” says La Chat. “I made a turn and sure enough, the high one matched my turn. It was a lead collision intercept. They were shooting at me! Jimmy from the back seat was screaming, ‘Pete, Pete, Pete!’ He didn’t need an ICS [internal communications system]. I could hear him, and I’ll never forget that. The missile is coming at me at Mach 3. I just picked a point where I didn’t think the missile could match my turn and turned inside it. It worked. The missile went by so close that I could see the fins trying to match my turn. It blew up behind us. The lower one went stupid. We survived.”

Some Vietnam-era aircrews dubbed the timing and high-G maneuvers required to dodge the telephone pole-size SAMs as “dancing with death.” To survive the grim dance, crews relied on the eyesight of the Phantom’s backseaters, which often trumped the aircraft’s fancy electronic gear.

After two combat tours flying single-seat Vought F-8 Crusaders, Lieutenant Commander Nigal Miller wasn’t initially thrilled about flying a big two-seat fighter. Assigned to VF-161, it took time for him to get used to having a GIB—guy in back. “I was used to doing everything myself,” he says. Miller’s attitude changed after his RIO spotted a missile streaking their way, one that wasn’t detected by the F-4’s missile-detection equipment. “Nigal, there’s a missile tracking us at 5 o’clock,” Miller remembers him calling out. Heeding the warning, Miller was able to evade the missile. “If I didn’t have my backseater—an extra set of eyeballs—I wouldn’t be talking to you today,” he says.

 

Last MiG Kill

La Chat’s roommate aboard Midway during the Chargers’ 1972 cruise was Lieutenant Vic Kovaleski, a “very laid-back guy and a great stick,” says La Chat. Kovaleski and his RIO Wise—and their wingmen—took off from Midway on January 12, 1973, for what fighter crews considered the tedious mission of barrier combat air patrol (BARCAP), watching for any enemy aircraft attempting to approach the carrier group.

Kovaleski and his wingmen orbited in a racetrack pattern, armed and ready to take on any MiGs that might appear. Earlier in the war, North Vietnamese MiGs had ventured out, but were quickly dispatched by missiles fired from U.S. warships cruising offshore. Having learned a hard lesson, the MiGs generally stayed away, but precautionary BARCAPs were still maintained.

Although peace talks were well under way, reconnaissance flights monitoring enemy activity continued, and on that overcast January day, a U.S. Air Force C-130 operating Ryan reconnaissance drones was flying off the North Vietnamese coast. A lone MiG-17 was dispatched to hunt down the C-130. “We’re loitering at max endurance, boring holes in the sky when we got a vector from Red Crown [a fighter controller’s call-sign] to intercept a bogey at 020 and 38 miles,” says Wise. “The MiG was flying low and the cruiser kept losing contact, but Vic got a glint off his canopy and we went right after him.”

“I got a tally on the bogey at my 11 o’clock, low and about four miles,” says Kovaleski. “As I approached a Sidewinder firing position on the MiG-17, at a six o’clock position about a mile [away], the MiG broke hard port. To avoid overshooting, I pulled the nose vertical, rolled left, and placed myself in a lag pursuit position on the MiG-17.”

After more hard maneuvering, the MiG “lost sight of us and turned back to the right,” says Wise. “We pulled in behind him and shot two Sidewinders. The first knocked a bit off his tail. The second went right up his tailpipe, just exploding the airplane. By the time we did that, we were right over Hai Phong Harbor. We got out of there fast.”

The MiG pilot, Luu Kim Ngo, ejected, but his parachute didn’t deploy.

Kovaleski and Wise were credited with the last MiG kill of the war. The Vietnam War, however, wasn’t quite finished with Kovaleski. Two days later, while escorting an RF-8 from a recon mission in the Thanh Hoa region, Kovaleski and his RIO, Ensign D.H. Plautz, were hit by 85mm anti-aircraft fire. Despite losing the left engine, then the right, and most aircraft systems, and sustaining a massive fuel leak, Kovaleski was able to steer his crippled F-4B offshore for a successful ejection. “My RIO and I were in our rafts for less than 15 minutes before two SAR [search and rescue] helicopters arrived for the rescue,” says Kovaleski. 

Theirs was the last aircraft lost by Midway—and lost over North Vietnam—during the hard-fought conflict. Although the Chargers won numerous awards during their Vietnam combat deployments, it wasn’t without loss. A barrage of SAMs shot down Ensch along with his pilot, Lieutenant Commander Mike Doyle, on August 25, 1972. Doyle would be listed as KIA, while Ensch became a POW. Wise was there to greet Ensch when the last group of POWs arrived at California’s Travis Air Force Base in spring 1973. “When you’re in combat, you form a kinship with your squadronmates,” says Wise. “Lifelong bonds are formed.”

Today, 50 years after the Paris Peace Accords were signed on January 27, 1973, former VF-161 Chargers still maintain a presence aboard Midway. In an effort spearheaded by Ensch, they’ve kept their story alive by helping to sponsor the restoration of a Phantom II once flown by VF-161. One side of the fighter, painted in VF-161 livery, showcases the five MiG kills credited to the squadron—two MiG-19s and three MiG-17s—during its final Vietnam War cruise aboard Midway.

“The Midway Museum is quite a success story,” says Kovaleski. “I doubt that anyone ever envisioned it being such a tourist attraction.”

“Midway brings on a good feeling,” says Nigal Miller. “I go back with pride.”

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Frequent contributor Robert Bernier wrote about a pilot’s 40-year effort to restore an F7U Cutlass to flying condition in the Fall 2022 issue of Air & Space Quarterly.

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This article is from the Spring issue of Air & Space Quarterly, the National Air and Space Museum's signature magazine that explores topics in aviation and space, from the earliest moments of flight to today. Explore the full issue.

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