RAMBLINGS OF AN OLD VECTOR VENDER
By: Col Lawson P. Wynne
In the early years of air surveillance we were completely dependent upon the British for information and direction. Radar was a secret word and few were entrusted with its management. The few who were, had insufficient equipment to really make a difference and were faced with those crusty old pilots who had built the Air Corps and insisted that they would “fly” by the seat of their pants.
New technology always brings out the dreamers and the “Not invented here” crowd. One ready to save the situation through the immediate application of the great break- through and the other clinging to the tired and proven solution. I remember, in May of 1942, listening to a Lt Colonel tell us how radar was going to win World War II only to have those beautiful dreams dashed by another colonel who saw radar as a toy that was siphoning resources from the war effort. To this latter soul the ground observer corps was all that was required, and the “failure” of radar to prevent Pearl Harbor was his living proof.
At the outbreak of World War II we did not have enough ground radars for a general defense so the limited number of “270” radars we had were deployed in point defense at carefully selected targets. These were augmented by a ground observer corps that was employed primarily along the costal area and served to fill in the low altitude coverage which the 270’s could not supply. For those who are unfamiliar with the naked eye and upon spotting an aircraft they would use their binoculars to attempt to identify it. They would then report the sighting as so many miles in such a direction. This information was received at a ground observer filter center where it was plotted and then reported to the Air Defense Control Center where it was combined with radar information on a large horizontal plotting board. Time lags of 5 to 7 minutes were common and reporting errors often caused great delays in determining when a raid was actually under way.
The weapons controller practiced his skill by dead reckoning fighters to the vicinity of the incoming raid. To aid in the tracking of the fighters there was a system of direction finding stations that reported the azimuth of transmissions given out by the lead aircraft. The system was controlled by a clock in the fighter so that the pilot was free to concentrate on flying. The clock was divided into sections which were color and on queue from the controller was told to push “contactor in.” This activated an automatic transmission from the aircraft which would continue at specific intervals permitting the direction finders to provide positional information on the fighters.
The controller, and his individual plotting board, would then plot a course that would permit the fighters to intercept the track of the incoming raid. The skill of the controller, the accuracy of the plotters, the timelessness of the combined track data, and the accuracies of winds aloft data combined to give the system something less than 100% effectiveness.
These functions were carried out at the Air Defense Control Center (AN/TTQ-1) and the controller’s principal aid was a small plastic manual computer (E6B) to aid in dead reckoning. This system remained in effect until the development of more sophisticated ground radars: the first of which was the SCR-527. The SCR-527 consisted of two bed spring-like antenna, one for transmitting and one for receiving, separated by about 200 feet. The big innovation, as far as the controllers were concerned, in the SCR-527, was the Planned Position Indicator (PPI). This was our first radar scope that presented the controller with a 360 degree sweep of the air space. This would, for the first time, permit the direction of intercepts from the radar site without the delays and inaccuracies of the plotting boards.
Direct control of fighters from the SCR-527 was not easy. The pips were elongated sausages about 2 miles in depth and 5 degrees in width. The antenna had some loping and returns frequently faded from the scopes. The SCR-527 was, however, mobile and well suited to a war of movement. The SCR-527 was quickly assigned to history with the emergence of the AN/CPS-1 or Microwave Early Warning (MEW) radar.
The CPS-1 was our first radar that would permit precise control of aircraft. The set was designed by MIT and produced by General Electric. Its antenna looked much like a bulldozer blade with a half blade on the back of the full blade. The full blade sent out a low beam that could detect a bomber at 200 miles. Fighters could be tracked to 120 miles and the antenna beam width of .9 degrees gave excellent resolution. The high angle antenna, half a dower blade, gave coverage to about 90 miles and up to 40,000 feet. The set was a controllers dream.
The CPS-1 was produced in its mobile form and the first units went to Europe where they were assigned, I believe, to the 9th and 19th TAC.I don’t know where all the units were assigned, but we carried unit number 5 into Kyushu, Japan in 1945. There was also a CPS-1 just north of Tokyo.
During World War II several special purpose radars were developed to round out the air surveillance system. The TPS-1 and TPS-3 were small one-operator early warning sets and the CPS-4 was the companion height finder for the CPS-1. When we went into Japan we carried TPS-1s, TPS-3s, and a CPS-4.
World War II was the development vehicle for controlling. Prior to that time, aerial combat was see and be seen. In World War II we progressed from dead reckoning daylight intercepts to precise control of night interceptions. This was great progress, but the controller was not yet recognized as an essential member of the fighting team. Nothing exemplifies this more than the Army Air Force records that list “Snuffy” Smith as our first Night Fighter Ace, but gives no mention of the controller who directed the intercepts.
I entered the Army Air Force Controllers School in the latter part of World War II. The school was located at Hammer Field, Fresno, California. After several weeks of study and practicing dead reckoning intercepts, my class was shipped to a desert location where we were able to work with an SCR-527 and the hottest thing out, the Microwave Early Warning radar (AN/CPS-1). It was really exciting, but the heat took enough out of us to keep things in perspective.
We were controlling BT-13’s out of Tulare Lake Airfield. We were all eager to develop our talents so competition for a scope time was immense. We were there only one week and each man spent about two hours on the scope actually controlling aircraft. I believe I actually ran nine interceptions in daylight and one at night. We were returned to Hammer Field in 1945 where we were given orientation visits to see the P-70, P61, P-38N and the P-59. Only the P-59 was not a night fighter, but it was our first jet fighter. There was nothing but speculation and jokes that evening about the plane with no propeller, but it would be many years before any of us would see an operational jet.
I shipped out of school to a job at Abilene, Texas and found myself back in the dead reckoning business. With D/F stations at Baird, Stamford, Abilene, and Sweetwater it was my job to help jug (P-47) pilots find their way home. This sounds simple, but many of the pilots were from Turkey and Brazil. It was a real trick to get a Turk headed back to base when he was having trouble with navigation. I remember one in particular who called in asking for help. He was convinced he had insufficient petrol to return to base. He was actually only 40 miles out, but he did not want to fly the course I gave him. As his fuel got lower he got more excited, but he did not take a heading to base. Several transmissions between ground and plane took place and with each transmission he became more excited. Finally when only about 10 miles out he chattered wildly and then bailed out. The plane crashed 8 miles out. We were all in a learning situation and the language barrier was obviously the culprit.
After a couple of months of giving vectors to confused pilots I was shipped to Salt Lake City replacement Depot, then to Vancouver for overseas transport. President Truman had made the decision and the “A” bomb had been dropped, so my ship sailed directly to Japan. Landing in Yokohama I was sent to the Fifth Fighter Command at Fukuoka, Japan. The war was over, people were going home and there was a great need for support personnel. No one seemed to know what a controller was. I was assigned as a supply officer. I was, of course, angry and went to the club to ease my sorrow.
There a Lt. Col. Baird was helping me cry in my beer be cause he was concerned about the lack of incoming trained personnel. When he discovered I was a trained controller assigned to supply he exploded. Needless to say, I was reassigned to the 35th Fighter Control Squadron Separate. It became the 610th AC&W Squadron a short time later.
It was about an hour’s drive to the 35th Squadron. There I found a mobile CPS-1 sitting on an abandoned Japanese air strip surrounded by mountains. You couldn’t track an aircraft 30 miles. No one really cared for the war was over. The skilled personnel were only awaiting their turn to head for home.
In less than two weeks I found myself as the Senior Controller, the only controller, and Chief of Operations. There were, however, no operations going on. Oh, we did maintain a symbol of being an operational unit, but our major contribution was the operation of a D/F station to give pilots a steer to base.
The one redeeming feature of this period was the P-61 squadron based at Fukuoka (Itazuke). They liked to fly so I would put in many hours of scope time running practice intercepts. No one else seemed interested in doing such so I could do as much as I liked. The war time operational procedures had carried over into the occupation forces and call signs had to be changed every 90 days. The P-61 boys were very inventive in selecting their call sign and higher headquarters cooperated in every way they could. Some of those call signs were Daddy, Sex Hand, Bubbles, Maiden Hand, etc. Our call sign was CAMEL CONTROL when I arrived and I did not want to change it. I wanted the pilots to be able to remember Camel Control as a help mate. When the first change came down I told my controllers to continue to use the call sign Camel Control. I was called on the carpet at Fifth Fighter Command and given a lecture on discipline and security. I stood my ground explaining the fact that while our mission may be air defense our work was primarily navigational aid, we needed to have a name that pilots could remember; for in an emergency in a fighter there was little time to consult communication charts.
The Fifth Fighter Command Commander heard my plea and agreed with it. From that time until my departure in 1948 our call sign was never changed.
By this time the Russians were proving to be less than cooperative and we were told to get operational. We had the CPS-1, a CPS-4 and a couple of TPS-1B’s. We put the CPS-1 and CPS-4 on Shagona Shima, an island at the entrance to Fukuoka Bay, and the TPS-1B’s were deployed to Nagasaki and Kagoshima. We also had a D/F net with stations a Shagona Shima, Suburiyama and Moji. All point-to point communications were by single channel FM gear except for one HF net.
As we were deploying to the new sites I was yelling for trained controllers. I was told there would be none, for none were being trained in the States. There was, however, an excess of P-51 pilots so they shipped me a dozen. I have never seen a more disgruntled lot. They wanted no part of a ground-pounder’s job, much less a job that they knew nothing about, located many miles from the fun and frolic.
As I held my first meeting with these men, I could sense a willingness to give it a try from several of the men. These were not new recruits; many had been in Europe and were shifted to the Pacific as the ETO wound down. One, Lt. Coleman, had been shot down on his first mission over Europe and obviously loved being a P-51 pilot. Nevertheless, he was a good student and learned quickly.
I set up a training course and in a short time, with the help of the flying organizations at Ashiya and Itazuke, had a reasonably proficient group of controllers.
However, they were traveling to Ashiya to get their flying time and this was interfering with their training and work. They wanted a plane assigned to us. We would fly it from Gonnoshu, an old Japanese field next to our base. They were told we couldn’t have one because we had no crash crew or fire equipment. They went out and scrounged an ambulance, tied a bit two-wheel CO2 tank on the back of the ambulance and reported they could comply with the regulations. At this point Camel Control had its Air Force, an AT-6. We also had two L-5ís, but they were to support our men at our out-lying stations. They were also flown by two Tech Sergeants.
For a short time things went well. The pilots were getting their time, Wing Headquarters (Fifth Fighter Command had become a Composite Wing) was happy and my students had a new lease on life. Then it happened. Ben Ruhl (now deceased) went up for a flight, as he came in to land he forgot to lower the gear. The plane skidded to a halt, Benny got out just as help arrived and the horn in the T-6 was still sounding to tell Benny he had not yet lowered the gear. That wiped out our Air Force as Wing was not about to put another plane in the hands of a bunch of wild men. We had to settle for a few tears in our beer and the joy that Benny had not been hurt (although some wanted to hang Benny on the CPS-4).
There were few navigational aids in the Far East. The old Adcock Range’s that ran along the airways and a radio beacon at a few airfields was about it. This meant we had a big task in the field of aid to semi-lost aircraft (the pilots would seldom admit they were lost).
My controllers were perfect for the job. Skilled pilots, they were quick to recognize just how much could be done with radar to help in air traffic management as well as improve the safety of flight. They established let-down procedures for Ashiya and Itazuke and became so proficient at it that we felt comfortable with an 800 foot ceiling at Ashiya and were doing let-downs to 1,000 feet at Itazuke which was surrounded by mountains. We preferred to hand off to GCA but we could actually do a faster job than GCA if several planes were involved. One might question the implementation of unapproved procedures with locally trained controllers, but in the hundreds of let-downs performed we never had an accident.
The controllers became salesman and the local pilots became believers. This trust was graphically illustrated when the P-51 group flew a practice air raid against Okinawa. They needed belly tanks for the flight and they needed to use those tanks until they made their pass at Okie and were heading home. For some reason they dropped their tanks before going into Okie, then they ran into weather coming back. When we picked them up over Kagoshima they were spread out and low on fuel. To complicate matters Itazuke had a 1200 foot ceiling which meant GCA approaches and there was just not enough fuel to get them all through such a procedure.
The controller on duty suggested to the flight commander that Camel Control give them a shortened let-down. This would consist of spacing each pair of aircraft about three miles apart vectoring each pair to a point over Fukuoka Bay at 5,000 feet, then the aircraft would do a rapid descent to 1,000 feet rolling out on a heading of 120 degrees. If he did not see the runway in three minutes he was to pull up to 5,000 feet to try again. The flight commander agreed and the controller immediately began establishing the conga line of P- 51’s.
That first flight must have had a belly full of butterflies as he was told to start his descent. However, the controller had selected his decent point perfectly and as the first two aircraft rolled out on 120 degrees they reported “runway in sight.” The rest was routine and all P-51ís landed safely though two ran out of fuel before they reached the parking ramp.
Camel Control received a lot of thanks and good publicity for this controller’s outstanding work, but we couldn’t even get a letter of commendation for the officer even though he had obviously saved several aircraft.
Another event that demonstrated clearly the Air Corps lack of appreciation of the skill and contribution of the controller occurred in mid-1947. A c-46 had flown from Tokyo to Kimpo, Koreas with a load of passengers. If you made that flight and the weather were bad you were to make no more than two attempts to land. This would leave enough fuel to return to Itazuke. The pilot of this C-46 made several attempts to land at Kimpo before heading back.
As he passed over Pusan he called Camel Control to report he didn’t think he would make it back. The controller reassured the pilot that Camel Control had him on radar and would have rescue escort him in. This was a little optimistic since the weather was awful and ceilings were at 500-1000í. The controller alerted his rescue (B-17 and PBY) at Ashiya. He also alerted me and I went up to see how things were going.
When I arrived in the Operations room the pilot was just reporting one engine dead and beginning his descent to the sea. The B-17 and PBY were scrambled. The PBY pilot immediately returned to base because of ceilings and visibility. The B-17 began taking vectors from the controller. By now the C-46 was at 2,000 feet and had no power. The controller informs him that DUMBO was on the way and wished them good luck. At 500 feet the controller was still tracking the C-46. Transmissions ceased and all eyes turned to the blip of the B-17.
The ditching was about 80 miles from the radar site and the weather had created a ducting of the RF energy so that we could actually track the B-17 at 500í feet. The B- 17 reported visibility near zero and ceiling about 500feet. The pilot was vectored over the ditching site several times, but saw nothing. It was now getting dark and the visibility zero so the B-17 headed home.
Our only hope was to find a Navy vessel near the site. I asked Ken Murray, our communicator, how to get the Navy. He said we could go in on their HF net. I asked if he could tune into their frequency. He said “yes”, but he couldn’t transmit without authorization. I ordered Ken to enter the Navy HF net. Ken pounded out my first message. There was a quick Navy response for the station to stay clear of the Navy net. Ken said “I told you” and I ordered him to transmit again and open with “emergency, emergency.” This time our message got through. The USS Pullman was just coming out of Sasebo harbor and would respond.
Because of the bending of the radar energy along the ocean, we could actually track the destroyer, though the skipper did not believe us. After several transmissions (all of this in Morse code) he agreed to follow the vectors given him by the controller. Several hours had passed and the controller had been figuring the drift of the survivors and vectoring the destroyer. It was 2300 hrs; the controller had been on duty since 0600, when the destroyer radioed “life raft in sight”.
Not one person was lost in the ditching and all were returned to Sasebo where the Navy issued commendations to the men of the Pullman and many press releases with pictures of the rescued personnel. The personnel were then flown to Itazuke where more praise was given the Navy.
The contributions of Camel Control and its duty controller were never mentioned. However, in the midst of the revelry at Wing Headquarters, the C-46 crew asked to be taken to Camel Control where they expressed their heartfelt thanks to our duty controller.
Camel Control did a great deal to sell to the Air Force the importance of radar in Air Traffic Management. Some of the events were fun even when they grew from a real problem. One day there was a C-47 coming back from Korea through some of the worst thunderstorms we had seen in some time. Our controller was monitoring the progress of this blip for the pilot was hitting some of the roughest storms. Off the tip of Tsushima the pilot called in giving his estimate for the Fukuoka range. The controller asked the pilot if he would like to be vectored around some of the more severe weather. There was a silence, so after awhile the controller repeated his message. This time after a short pause, the pilot said “can you really do that?” The controller assured him he could get him out of the worst of it. The pilot said okay and the first vector given was a 90 degree turn to the left. The pilot wasn’t too certain he wanted to go away from land so the controller informed him they would be back on course in a few minutes; he was just taking him around a big one. The pilot continued to take the controller’s vectors and, as time went by, became almost jolly. We later learned it was an Air Force general.
The incident many of our controllers like to tell dealt with Northwest Airlines. They came in 1946 to re-establish their route to Kimpo. They were flying a DC-3 from Tokyo to Kimpo. One night they were coming back from Kimpo in weather. The pilot called in giving his ETA for Fukuoka. Our controller had been tracking the flight for sometime and knew his trace, speed and altitude. When the Northwest pilot gave his ETA for Fukuoka the controller went back with a correction of his ETA of some 30 minutes. The Northwest pilot came back with a very strong repeat of his original ETA. The pilot flew out his original ETA and, of course, was not over Fukuoka. In a less positive voice he asked the controller “what that ETA was?” The controller gave it to him and it turned out to be correct. Some days later this same pilot was flying back from Korea again at night, in weather. He called Camel Control to ask, “Have you got me on the Ouija board tonight?” The controller gave him vectors all the way to Fukuoka. Some time later the pilot came out to see the Ouija board in action.
By this time Camel Control was functioning very well and its reputation was spreading rapidly. I was called to Fifth Air Force Headquarters to aid in the preparation of some Air Defense Regulations. Following this I was invited to speak at a meeting at FEAF (Far Eastern Air Forces) Headquarters on controllers. It was my first time to make a speech where several general officers would be present and many full colonels. This was quite a challenge for a poor controller who had just made Captain. But I warmed to the task and wrote a scathing attack on the failure of the system to provide the operating units a flow of trained controllers. When my wife listened to the first practice run she was shocked and had many suggestions on how to tone down my “Charge of the Light Brigade.”
After rewriting my presentation several times in order to get my wife’s approval, I proceeded to Tokyo where I presented the epistle. As a result of the presentation FEAF decided to open a controller’s school at Johnson Field.
I was quite happy to return to Kyushu and Camel Control where I could relax in the real world of “hands on” operations, but not for long.
I was ordered to China to teach in the Chinese National War College. I was to give a series of lectures on the use of radar in modern warfare. I proceed to Nanking and began my work. I had an excellent interpreter assigned to me, a young Chinese Captain, who was a great help in getting me off on the right foot. However, it was obviously a losing cause, because the Nationalist were rapidly losing the war. Not long after my arrival I was told, along with several others, to get out of China. I caught a C-47 to Shanghai and after a couple of days wait, got a ride in a plush B-17 back to Tokyo.
The B-17 was being used to ferry State Department personnel so I was essentially excess baggage. I spent much of the trip talking with the pilot, who was a Major. As we approached Japan, I told the pilot he had better check in with Camel Control for identity as many of the flight plans out of China were not getting through. He scoffed at the thought that our surveillance system was good enough to really track and identify aircraft transiting the coastal area. I was so proud and certain of our capabilities that I told him “you won’t get within 50 miles of Fukuoka without fighters on your wing.”
The major felt the Captain was bragging and stated so. I guess I was, but I was treated with much greater respect when at 60 miles out two P-51s sat on the right wing of our B-17.
It was good to be back at “Camel Control” and I looked forward to being at home for the rest of my tour. However, it was not to be as I was ordered to Johnson Field to help write the curricula for the controller’s school.
While I was at Johnson Field, the Commanding General of FEAF (Lt. Gen. Whitehead) decided to visit Camel Control. He was so impressed by his visit he ordered the commander to put the officer responsible for the operation in for the Commendation Medal. The commander, not wanting to slight anyone put the radar officer, the communications officer and me in for a medal. I knew nothing of this at the time because I was at Johnson Field. When I returned to Camel Control I got the news. The communications Officer had a medal, the radar officer had a medal, but mine was bouncing around. Yep, the senior controllers never came through. When the unit closed, one of the officers sent me the correspondence which I treasure properly more than I would have the medal. After 16 endorsements Major General White, (Lt. Gen. Whitehead was gone), disapproved the medal. The irony of it all is that Major General White had approved it as Commander of Fifth Air Force.
I departed Japan in mid-1948, assigned to drill recruits at Lackland AFB. I had been there about six months when I go a call from Col Hobart Yeager, Director of C&E for the newly formed Continental Air Command. Col. Yeager was the Director of C & E, FEAF when I had made that controller speech and apparently remembered my name. He said I would be transferred to the 531st AC&W Group being formed at McChord Field.
Packing my gags again I was soon at work as S-3 for the 531st Group. Yep, a Captain was given the job of a Lt. Col. In a group that had only a few months to get ready to deploy to Alaska.
The equipment was arriving, CPS-5’s, but there was a real shortage of trained personnel. Again I found myself in the training business and with little to do the job. We scrounged some material and space and started a school for the incoming personnel. There was little training material, so much had to be crated by a very limited staff.
The Air Defense System was, at this time, being put together. Radar production was underway and site selection teams were being formed and this time the need for controllers was not being over-looked. I received a call from Lt. Col Tommy Powers who said he wanted me to help in the Controllers School at Tyndall Field. He said he would pick me up the next day. He picked me up the next day in a B-26 and flew me to Tyndall. I rented an apartment and caught a plane back to McChord to get my family.
The Controllers School had a “V” Beam (CPS-6 radar and two small concrete block buildings. We were expected to teach two hours of academics a day and two hours on the scopes. In the meantime, we had to prepare our material as there were no textbooks or prepared material (sound familiar). To say I enjoyed it would be an understatement. Working with skilled controllers like Brooks, McIsacc, and Raisor on “V Beam” radar was a pleasure I had not know before.
It was about this time that SAC was running jamming missions (primarily Chaff) against the radars at Eglin AFB. We read some of the reports and felt that the lack of skills at Eglin might be giving SAC some bad information. We asked to be permitted to run intercepts on the SAC bombers using our P-51ís. They gave us the okay because SAC felt their jamming would be effective enough to prevent the intercepts.
Mac, Brooks and I controlling three intercepts each, had little trouble placing each of our flights in an attack position. When our initial report went in, we were told we were never a part of the test. We were in no position to argue. The test continued but without our participation.
As we taught we also looked for ways to improve air defense systems. One major improvement that could be achieved with little expenditures of effort was to reduce the time lag in the reporting system. Early warning radars were reporting to plotters at larger radars (Direction Centers) who then reported the data to the Air Defense Control Centers. This reporting time was further increased by the need to have the scope operator at the radar report to a plotter who plotted in range and azimuth. Then the teller would report the plot in the air defense grid. Why not put the grid right on the scopes and eliminate the tellers?
About this time I was sent to the Kellogg Company in New Jersey to serve as an advisor on a computer they were developing for intercept work. It was a two-week TDY and I was working for the newly formed Air Defense Command at Mitchell Field on Long Island. I had spent about two days the company when I realized that the problems we had been discussing involved only the X and Y coordinates. When I asked about relative heights I was informed it was not a part of the problem they were working on.
When I returned to Mitchell Field and was asked to go over to a Navy research facility. When I arrived I discovered they were working on airborne search radars and wanted to discuss the problems that might occur if interceptions were to be directed from the airborne platform. One day of that was more than enough.
When I returned to Mitchell Field I was introduced to an Operations Analyst who was seeking ways to reduce the time lag between detection and reporting to command authorities. I told him about our Tyndall idea to put the Air Defense Grid on the scopes. He liked the idea and so I closed out my TDY, returning to Tyndall. I had not been home long before I was returned to Mitchell Field on TDY. There I was told to do everything I could to reduce the reporting time lag. An on-going contract with AIL was expanded so that they could build, install or operate anything I asked. Now this was no big deal for my TDY was only for 30 days.
We selected the radar at Manchester, New Hampshire and installed a video mapper. We then produced a negative of the Air Defense grid and installed it in the mapper. The grid came up clear on the scope but our lines were so wide on our negative that they would actually hide some return. AIL then made us a new negative with much smaller lines. While far from perfect, it did permit reporting direct to the ADCC with the Direction Center receiving the same information by monitoring the line.
There were several problems to wok out such as grid coordination with adjacent sites and the cost and production rate of video mappers so the brass wanted a full scale test before proceeding. This was going to take several months so I escaped back to Tyndall.
It was at this time that the move of Air Defense Command to Colorado Springs was engineered. In the resultant move of many units and people the direct reporting ideas died a natural death.
About a month later I got a call from Col. Hobart Yeager. He wanted me on the C & E Staff of Air Defense Command. As I was packing to leave I got a call from Col. Haskel E. Neal. The command was moving to Colorado Springs and I should report there in December rather than to Mitchell Field.
Reporting to Colorado Springs I found myself moving desks into offices and yelling at telephone men. By late January we were beginning to act like a Headquarters Staff and I was assigned as Chief of Plans and Programs in the Directorate of C & E.
Our initial energies were poured into the finalization of the selection of our radar sites, the creation of an operational Central Air Defense Force at Kansas City, and the acquisition of sufficient radars to fill the air space about these United States. We recognized the need for coverage over Canada and planning was well along for a joint Canadian-U.S. Air Defense system.
I was one of three officers selected to escort a group of Canadian Officers, two Air Commodores and several Wing Commanders on a tour of U.S. agencies developing items for our Air Defense System. This was a three week effort and included briefings at MIT, Hughes, Headquarters USAF, Boeing, Northrop, General Electric, Philco and Research and Development Command. Our objective was to sell them on the direction we were going thus easing the problems of settling on a joint system. We had a jolly good time and the contacts I made served me well in later years. Ye, we considered the tour a great success as we closed the effort at “Mama Leoneís” in New York City with one of the Air Commodores leading the entire restaurant in singing.
As we worked to secure a reasonable degree of radar cover, the need for gap filler radars was obvious. Then the arguments began - should they be manned or unmanned ñ could there be such a thing as a reliable unmanned radar - how many did we need? What were the priorities for coverage? In the meantime, our radar down time was so great that there were continuous areas of lost coverage. No one seemed to know why. We blamed it on the Training Command, poorly designed equipment, and insufficient support form Air Material Command. The arguments were an exercise in frustration so we let a contract with Western Electric/Bell Labs to look our system over and tell us how to get our system going. The group was known as CADS (Continental Air Defense Survey).
They placed control of the CADS under Col. Ken Bergquist, Plans and Requirement Directorate with Col. Tom Holley in charge. After a few months of this no one was happy, neither the contract personnel nor our Headquarters Staff. Control was changed to the Communication and Electronic Directorate and placed under my direction as Chief of the C & E Plans and Programs Division.
The work went on for a year and our radar in commission rates improved steadily. Their findings hit all of us. We needed to drop some of our routine maintenance because we were over maintaining. We needed to emphasize more hands on experience in training. The test equipment we were so short of had been delivered to Air Material Command some time ago and was still sitting in the freight cars which the Air Force was paying demurrage on. We needed new stock bins for our supplies at the radar sites so that supply personnel could find a part when we needed it. Not only did they discover the deficiencies the contract provided for them to correct them.
When I took over staff management of the project we held a mee5ting at Bell Labs where I insisted that each item they looked at be recorded and, thereafter, a monthly report of progress rendered. There was a real yell of being tied up in paper work when they were hired as an independent agency to find and fix problems. I held firm in my position that I could not manage that which I did not know about. After much argument they consented to the reports. It turned out to be the management tool that had been missing. Even the CADS workers agreed as the project progressed that it was a good move. So good that they freely admitted upon the closing of the project that without it they would have been “hard put” to write a final report on what they had done.
As a small point in the history of events affecting air defense, our management of this project was instrumental in the founding of the MITER Corporation. Hap Halligan was the Director of the CADS Project. As the project neared the end we discussed the need for an organization that could respond quickly to our study needs. MIT had done most of our work and when that work began to include other areas and hardware Lincoln Labs was created. When we did this we left a void. We felt there was a reasonable amount of work in our area for a new “Think Tank,” Needless to say; Hap was the first President of MITER, and Col. Tom Holley an early employee.
As the Air Defense system began show signs of life, automation was barking at the door. MIT’s Dr. Van Vorhee, Dr. George Valley and Dr. Jay Forrester, a computer whiz, began touting a centralized Air Defense System run by a large computer. At this point in time, we were still looking a small analog computers run intercepts from radar sites. We were aware of the “Whirl Wind” effort at MIT to build a large digital computer but it was constructed of vacuum tubes and it seldom worked more than 20 minutes at a time.
Off I went to spend some time at MIT. I talked with Dr. Valley and Dr. Jay Forrester. They felt the recent development of the transistor meant reliable digital computers had arrived. They painted a beautiful picture of a large centralized air defense. Many of us were not convinced that the digital computer was ready or the centralization, which fell back to manual when in trouble, was the way to go.
There was another system under study at the University of Michigan (WRRC) Willow Run Research Center that relied more on analog computer technology and was far less centralized. In fact, as long as one station remained there was a capability. If the digital computer moved along in development fast enough, the WRRC system could make use of the digital technology.
The fight was on-Michigan vs. MIT. For the next several months I beat a path between Detroit and Boston with frequent stops at Washington. Our command was split. You could get the Michigan system before the MIT system, but the MIT system offered greater capabilities for expansion and acceptance of new weapon systems. We were essentially going in two directions and we needed to make a decision so that we could finalize a program.
This problem was also complicated by the introduction of our first Air Force Air Defense missile the BOMARC. We were also trying to work out problems with our first single seat interceptor the F-86D while the F-94C and the F-89ís were replacing some of the abortions we had hurriedly built to fill a void of all weather interceptors. You can imagine how desperate we were when we joined tow P-51’s into a single aircraft to form an all weather interceptor; I believe it was called an F-82.
One of the officers at our headquarters was a real believer in the F-86D and went to Eglin AFB to fly the first live firing. He was to fire at a radar reflector towed by a B-17. He did an excellent job of proving the F-86D capabilities; he shot down the B-17.
With the boiling nature of the weapons systems and the surveillance systems problems we were having great difficulty making a decision between the MIT and the Michigan systems.
Eventually the Air Force put together a special group to make the decision. Generals Doolittle, Putt and Partridge were the key members of the group. They came down on the side of MIT and we were off on a mad run to build the SAGE system.
As one last thing to put the problem at rest, I wrote a paper that attacked the centralized system concept and the lack of proven technology to implement the SAGE system. I concluded the paper by forecasting that if SAGE were implemented we w0uld be forced to buy the Michigan system for a back up. Col. Neal, though we both knew the ball was over, once again presented our position to the Deputy for Operations and the Commander ADC (Lt. Gen. Ben Childlaw). We then began to push the R & D phase of SAGE with all our might.
While we were busy with these battles a group of scientist had been pushing the idea of a Distant Early Warning Line. This would consist of a few manned stations placed north of the Artic Circle with many unattended stations in between the manned stations. The system would extend from Alaska to the United Kingdom. We had been pushing to extend our land-based coverage with airborne platforms (AEW&C). They proposed to use the airborne platforms and ships to extend the DEW line in the Pacific. George Valley and Oppenheimer were a part of this group of scientists and George had just received an excellent write-up in Newsweek. Oppenheimer has a well known physicist with ready access to the White House. At the time, the Air Force felt the extension to the contiguous cover was more important than a questionable EW capability. George sensed a negative response so Oppenheimer carried it to the White House. The battle was over, the DEW line was in.
At this point, the major battles over the configuration of our Air Surveillance system were essentially over. Changes would be made but the basic system was set.
I departed for Staff and Command School following which I was assigned as Chief of the Electronics Division, Director of C & E, Alaskan Air Command. I arrived in Alaska happy to escape the perturbations to the air defense fight. As I walked down the hall of the headquarters building to report to the Director of C & E a voice called “Wynne, what are you doing here?” I turned to face Brig. Gen. “Lefty” Parker who had been the commander of the Fifth Fighter Command in Japan when I was in Charge of Camel Control.
I informed the General I was to be the Chief of Electronics in C & E. He said, “The Heck you are. I’M in need of a Director of Combat Operations and you are it.”
Now the Director of Combat Operations slot was for a rated full Colonel. Me, I’m a ground-pounding Major. When I pointed this out to General Parker his response was “are you afraid of the job?” I served as the Director of Combat Operations for two years. During that time we secured approval for and built a new Combat Operations Center and helped develop a plan for and justify to Washington a Tropo Scatter system of communications for Alaska.
Two events stand out in my memory about my tour. One was the shoot down of a Navy P-2V by the Russians and the second was having our two Air Divisions declare a red and yellow alert.
Shortly after taking the job, I noted the tracking of Russian aircraft was quite significant. I asked what was done with the data, nothing was done with it. I set my controllers to work studying the Russian traffic. Before long they could tell when the Russians were practicing gunnery, routine flying, or standing down. They also noted that each time the Navy patrol plane went along the International Date Line, two MIG’s would come up. Further, it looked like they would head for the plane when he occasionally slipped over the line just a fraction.
I took this information to Kodiak and discussed it with the Navy. We agreed that they would monitor a specific frequency when they were making that run.
Several times after that we were able to alert the P2V’s when they slipped over the line. Then one day we saw the MIG’s come up as the P2V flew along the line. The P2V slipped to the Russian side. We called no answer. We called and called as the MIG’s approached the P2V. Needless to say, they shot him down and he crash-landed on Gamble Island. The Navy decorated those people but not even a note of thanks to the controller who tried to warn them and then sent a rescue team to save them.
The second event-having our divisions go on red and yellow alert was more personal. It was a very normal day when we noted a large number of aircraft departed the Russian airbase. They quickly disappeared from our radar. About 30 minutes later we picked up a high speed unknown headed south over the Brooks Range. Almost at the same time we picked up a high speed unknown coming up the chain toward Anchorage.
Both our Air Divisions went on yellow alert. I called the General. No one knew where he was. I called the Deputy Chief of Staff Operations; no one knew where he was. The tracks were approaching rapidly and we were supposed to notify Air Defense of our alert. I was pretty sure the plane from the north was a cold weather test bird and I thought the southern track was one of our fighters. I tell my controller to open a line to ADC but tell them to just sit on it; don’t tell them we are on alert until those tracks are only five minutes out. One Air Division went Red. I tell my controller to continue to sit on it. Finally the Commanding General comes in. I tell him what the situation is; I gave him my assessment of it and then explained the actions I had taken. He sits down at my desk, throws his feet up, looks over the plotting board and says in a low voice, “Wynne, you damn well better be right.” As we all know, I was.
Completing my tour I headed for the Pentagon and a position in the Radar Branch of AFOCC (now Command and Control). My duties included responsibility for DEW line implementation, the Frequency Diversity Radar Program and Modification to existing radars.
I had been on the job two days when I was told the general had to give Congress our estimate of the cost of the Aleutian DEW line extension the next day. I asked Bob Rushforth, the man I was replacing, where I could find it. He said “I don’t have one.” Right then I knew we were in trouble. I asked Bob how they usually developed such a figure. He said they got them from the field. I asked what I should do and he said “give them a figure.” With Bob’s help I began. First we listed the cost of all the equipment. Then we called construction and they said they had no figure for building there so we took figures for Fairbanks. We added it all up and both Bob and I felt the figures were low. Bob suggested we add 20 percent. I agreed. By now it was after 2:00 AM and I am supposed to brief the General at 9:00Am. We took one more look at the figure and knew it was still low. We had been at work since 9:00Am and we are bushed. I decide to err on the high side so I told Bob I was going to double the figure to 91 million. Bob was too tired to object so the next day the General gave to Congress a carefully derived figure of 91 million bucks.
I’ll save you the trouble of looking it up, the cost was 90 million.
Now some may think there was little knowledge used in developing the figure, but I had seen the original estimate of the main DEW line at 123 million. I saw Western Electric’s early estimate at 250 million. I knew that the current estimate of the main DEW line was 500 million and we were cutting things to keep it that low. So I had applied this proven formula to the DEW line extension.
My work on the Frequency Diversity Radar program was to approve deployment plans and push to develop five new radars in 24 months. We came close. Four were ready on schedule, only the Westinghouse FPS-27 fell behind.
We did waste 19 million on the FPS-26, 600 MC radar designed with pulse-to- pulse frequency agility and 10 megawatts of peak power. Since it was in the TV band, it was our plan to have TV channel allocations where we deployed it. If the FCC said no then we would operate it on a frequency changing mode so as not to interfere with TV. I personally briefed Mr. Ford of the FCC and he gave his nod of approval. Nineteen million later as we installed this beauty at Houma, Louisiana the FCC said “no dice.” I suppose it still sits there on hundreds of pilings. It was my last effort in the field of Air Defense.
From Headquarters USAF I received command of the 1962 AACS Group on Okinawa, from there, after a year with the USAF IG and a promotion to full Colonel, I was assigned to the JCS as Chief of Future Communications Systems, then to Langley as Deputy Commander TAC Communications Area, thence to Turkey as Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff C & E and finally a return to the JCS as Chief of Electronics, J-6.
Of my work in the United States Air Force nothing was more satisfying than the field of operations. May all those non-rated souls who would call themselves weapons controllers carry the career objective I listed on my student form at AASS – “To be the first non-rated Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force?” I didn’t make it, but some day-----
(Signed) Lawson P. Wynne Colonel, USAF (Ret.) AFTER THOUGHTS
In early1948 CAMEL CONTROL picked up a target traveling at a ground speed of 490 MPH. When thee report went in to higher headquarters they, for a short span of time, thought we were joking. After about an hour when the track had been established as real, people got excited.
5th Air Force sent a plane to pick up the entire crew that had been on duty and reported the track. They took the crew to 5th Air ìForce Headquarters at Nagoya where the people in intelligence interrogated them for hours.
Some days later a fast target was traced by one of the northern radar sites. They were able to get a fighter close enough to recognize the plane as a Russian twin engine jet. We were informed later that it was an IL-28, one of the USSR first operational light bombers. The 610th was the first US radar to track it.
One of our missions was to help pilots who became lost or were in an emergency situation. We probably helped an average of three or four pilots each month thus saving three or four planes a month. This was considered routine operations for the 610th and regardless of the difficulties involved no one was given any medals for their efforts. A couple years later Air Defense Command was giving medals to any controller who saves an aircraft. Anyone with an interest can find the number of aircraft saves in the 610th unit history at the Air Force Library, Maxwell AFB..