Editor’s Comments:
One of the comments in the "Shared Memories" section attached to Jeff’s obituary first caught my attention: "I heard Jeff's voice come up on the Guard emergency frequency stating that his lead pilot in the front seat of his OV-10 Bronco had taken a round to the head." The same incident was alluded to in the text of the obituary. Barely three months later, Georgie Johnson shared the letter below, which is a first-hand account from Bill Waters, the naval officer who actually called for air support. I asked and received Georgie’s permission to share its contents with his Lee classmates.
Before Bill’s letter, I had never heard of the Black Ponies, much less an OV-10 Bronco, so I began researching to become better informed. As it turns out, this incident is well documented on the Internet, and I have cited two of my sources, one of which is Wikipedia, the other is an article from the National Naval Air Museum where the actual aircraft Jeff was flying on that fateful day is on display.
I am proud to share this account of Jeff’s heroism with his classmates. I wish he were still with us to receive this tribute, which he richly deserves, in person. No less a hero throughout all of this is Georgie. As I told her, " . . . it dawned on me that you were no less a hero for supporting him throughout his career—an unsung hero, perhaps, but a hero nevertheless."
"I was the guy calling for air support!"
Georgie,
This is Bill Waters checking in as a fellow Classmate of Jeff's. I've been meaning to send you this note for quite some time upon learning of Jeff's passing in August but when I read the article in the current Shipmate magazine synopsizing Jeff's career, I need hesitate no further in writing you and your family. First, my wife, Mary, and I extend our sincerest condolences to you over the loss of your beloved Jeff. He was in the 33rd Company while I was in the 7th Company which made us geographically "worlds" apart while living in Bancroft Hall but we did manage to have several classes together tackling some mystifying academic subject throughout our four years at USNA. Jeff was a great guy; I really enjoyed his humor, always smiling, and always positive.
I had often wondered to myself over this past half century if Jeff had ever shared with you any of the details of his flying days with VAL-4 in Vietnam. When I read the Shipmate story about the Black Ponies encounter on 25 May 1969 [sic] where Jeff was the co-pilot in a two-plane OV-10 firefight with the enemy on the ground, I knew I must write you to give, as the great Paul Harvey was fond of saying, "the rest of the story" of that specific day. The Shipmate article said that Jeff's plane and the other plane provided air support for ambushed "US soldiers." In fact, those "US Soldiers" were actually two US Navy River Patrol Boats (PBRs) on the Cai Long River south of Rach Gia, South Vietnam, that fateful day which had been ambushed by the Viet Cong and I was on one of those boats and I was the guy calling for air support to help suppress the enemy's attack on our boats. For the record, the actual day of this firefight when LT Peter Russell was killed was 23 May 1969.
It was a beautiful day weather-wise on the river when the bad guys started shooting at us as we returned their fire with our own boat's weapons; while the enemy's aim was right on in bearing, fortunately their shots went predominantly high with most of their rounds going over our heads but they were pretty well entrenched in the thick tree line & underbrush along the river bank and we weren't able to dislodge them. That's when Jeff and the Black Ponies showed up to save the day for us. Rach Gia is on the west side of Vietnam, opening out on the Gulf of Thailand and at the entrance to the Cai Long River where we were patrolling and which runs a long way into the Cau Mau peninsula, a veritable Viet Cong stronghold/safe-haven; the whole place was literally infested with bad guys.
After several on-target strafing runs using machine guns and rockets by both planes, the enemy's fire on my boats had virtually dissipated. On that pivotal last strafing run with Jeff's plane, I was silently cheering them on when I suddenly realized that Jeff's plane was continuing to strafe but was also in a progressively steady shallow dive towards the tree line. I first thought that Jeff's plane had drawn a good bead on some of the bad guys and was really delivering effective ordnance on target but they just kept coming and coming in that shallow relentless dive. It was then that I thought to myself but recall uttering aloud the words "…Oh my gosh, he (referring to Jeff's plane) has target fixation, pull up, pull up." As you probably know, target fixation occurs when the pilot sort'a becomes mesmerized by his target and forgets about the situational awareness around him in the cockpit like flying the airplane. I honestly thought they were going to fly straight into the ground; I started rehearsing in my mind just how I and my PBR-mates were going to attempt a rescue of a downed plane in the jungle surrounded by bad guys. Of course, all this took place in a matter of seconds but it seemed like time simply stood still while all this played out in extreme slow motion.
It was just as Jeff's plane was literally at tree top level and still in a dive attitude that I witnessed an extreme aerobatic maneuver pulling instantly out of the dive and virtually straight up into the air. Almost simultaneously, I heard a new voice come over the tactical radio that I was monitoring which was one as calm, cool, & collected as ever heard. That voice just said 9 simple words which I'll never forget "this is the back seat, I have the aircraft." It was Jeff's voice, of course, which I recognized immediately from our Academy days. Jeff broke off contact with us and the enemy and headed straight back to his home airfield where sadly LT Russell had died from a single enemy round through the plane's windshield.
I just happened to see Jeff a month or so later that summer of 1969 when I was in Binh Thuy, near Can Tho along the Bassac River, which was both a major PBR base and Black Ponies airfield. That was the last time I was ever to see Jeff. He recounted his harrowing experience of saving himself and the aircraft. He allayed my concerns about target fixation by telling me that the copilot's primary job in such a firefight that he and LT Russell found themselves was to prevent that very thing, target fixation, by keeping his (Jeff's) hand lightly on the control stick during strafing runs. He said that the instant he felt the stick go loose in his hand he instinctively knew something was wrong and yanked back on the stick to pull the aircraft out of its dive. He recounted the experience in the same calm manner and tone as the voice I heard come over the radio the day it happened. What a terrific pilot and hero! You would have been so proud of his skill and courage that day as I know you are of his entire Naval service. I know he flew other missions for other beleaguered PBR sailors but this was a special mission since I was the direct benefactor of his professional airmanship.
There were undoubtedly numerous other occasions where USNA '67 classmates supported one another in combat but most likely unknowingly as to just who that classmate was at the time. For me, the occasion was very real, very scary, but very reassuring to know almost immediately it was your husband, Jeff Johnson, USNA Class of 1967, who helped out a fellow classmate in need of some timely air support. Thank you, Jeff. Fair winds and following seas, forever.
Just wanted you to know. I realize this will be a sad, first Christmas & holiday season for you and your family without Jeff but we will remember you all in our thoughts and prayers.
In love,
Bill Waters
New Smyrna Beach, FL
* * * * *
Wright Edward "Butch" Noble was well known throughout the Corps of Cadets for his athletic ability and for his wonderful sense of humor, and his memory is firmly established among all who knew him, on both counts. Butch was an outstanding high school athlete whose dream it was to go to West Point and to play on its football team. Despite the lack of a ready appointment and his small stature, Butch attained both goals.
During Beast Barracks, Butch weighed less than 150 lbs., but Coach Tipton already wanted him for his 150-lb. football squad. Butch was determined to play with the varsity, however, and nothing short of that would do. In spite of the fact that he was the smallest man on the squad, he fought for and won a starting position in the defensive backfield. His remarkable athletic ability and his tremendous enthusiasm for the game made him a standout player in his last two season. Nor did he limit himself to football. In his first-class year, Butch learned the fine points of the game of rugby and helped that team to register a winning season.
Butch had a weakness for clowning. Whether he was on top of the world or feeling its entire weight on his shoulders, he never disappointed those sho looked to him for the assurance that no setback was so great that it couldn't be dissolved by humor, and Butch's humor was rich for its spontaneity. When he was turned out in Ordnance Engineering the final semester of his first-class year, he was concerned--but he was amused, too: as a turn-out, he was excused from making the trip to Aberdeen Proving Ground. He hadn't wanted to make the trip in the first place. It was typical of him to be able to see the bright side. He had that kind of a personality.
Butch loved his country and was willing to make sacrifices for it. He was prouder of his commission than the degree he received with it. He anxiously awaited Ranger training and the tour in Vietnam that would follow.
His death came as a severe blow to his family and to his host of friends in his own Class and the rest of the Corps. The country and the Army lost one of its most promising young officers.