My pilot and I looked at each other, impressed by the urgency of the mission but still not sure why this was any different from other photo reconnaissance missions into North Viet Nam. We'd been up there before and nobody seemed concerned enough to provide armed escorts. Our unarmed RF-4C missions were usually single ship, unescorted and at low level. All we knew was that we were to proceed to a set of coordinates, get the pictures and high-tail it back to Saigon. Pretty routine.

We drew up our flight charts, double-checked target area threats and communications procedures for the fighter rendezvous and airborne tracking radar ships. "Looks like we will be close enough for enemy fighters to be a nuisance. Guess that's why we've got escorts. Sure hope the weather cooperates," I commented to my young pilot.

Bill was an excellent pilot. I had every confidence in him, even though I'd more than eight times as much flight experience. Every now and then you just know when you've got a real natural up in the front seat. And as my nose would be stuck into the radar and primary concentration on finding the exact target, it was reassuring to know I was in good hands.

At 0845, on the dot, we roared off into the wild blue from our Saigon base, headed northeast to first join up with a tanker southwest of Danang. Then we stayed on top of the clouds to rendezvous with our escort F-4's before reaching the DMZ. They joined up on us in close formation south of the target area. That's the way it was supposed to work. Before reaching the DMZ we began our gradual letdown. Low clouds in the target area demanded that we fly below them. Otherwise our pictures would be just white stuff.

"Stay with us," Bill advised the escort lead ship. "We'll be letting down on radar to get under this stuff."

The plan was to drop down to 1000 feet above the ground, see if that put us in the clear and proceed on to the target. We weren't supposed to go lower than that without seeing the terrain. The escorts depended upon us to guide them through the clouds and to keep 'em from slamming into the mountains south of the target.

"No way," responded the very concerned F-4 pilot. "We'll fly high cover while you boys drop down under to get the target pictures. We're not going down into that soup. There's rocks in those clouds you know. Just give us a shout of enemy fighters threaten. But that's not likely down there in the weeds."

"Chicken," Bill responded. But he said in only on interphone for my benefit and didn't broadcast his comment on the radio. "Well those guys are no help. Who needs 'em?"

"Coming up on 2000 feet AGL ( above ground level )", I cautioned. "Hold her steady at 480 knots until we start the photo run."

At 1000 feet AGL we were still in the soup, flying down into a wide valley north of the DMZ and headed to the target near Bat Lake. Bat Lake was not its real name. That we couldn't pronounce anyway. It just looked like a bat on the charts and on radar.

"Fifty miles out, Bill. Six minutes to cameras ON. See the ground yet? "

"Nope," he responded. "Are we clear of those hills? If so, let's go on down to 600 feet and if that's not clear we'll have to scrub."

"Yeah, we're pretty much clear. Just hold this course and we'll be all right."

At about 600 feet AGL we broke into the clear. We were below a thick overcast and headed straight for the target. I looked off to the side and confirmed our position as we passed a river bend and a small hill.

"Goose her, Bill., "I advised. "540 knots from here to clear of the target. After cameras OFF take a heading of one-five-zero. Cameras on in ten seconds."

I reached down to my right side panel and flicked the switches to turn on the panoramic and vertical cameras. The infrared strip camera had been running for the last three minutes to help the photo interpreters reviewing our film follow our run on into the target.

"Cameras OFF, heading one-five-zero," I repeated.

Bill didn't hesitate and we roared into a tight right turn while climbing back up into the clouds. He held the throttles forward to keep up our speed until we cleared the major threat area.

"You know," Bill commented. "Those F-4 jocks are probably already back on the ground and sipping a tall one."

We popped up into the clear at 18,000 feet. The brilliant sun glistened on the white cloud tops. I pulled my sunshade visor down. There wasn't any sign of the escort ships as we flew back toward the DMZ and into South Viet Nam.

"Yep. Those fellows will stick with you through thick and thin, " I said. " Except when it gets thick they thin out. Our ETA to home plate ( our Saigon base ) is 12:15."

We landed with minimum fuel and got the film to the photo interpreters as planned. Just a routine mission.