As expected, about two weeks later, a task force arrived from Wright Field to run the preliminary phases of the FEI tests. Although the FEI would be towed in operational use and in the latter phases of the test, there was so much instrumentation in the first phases that the FEI had to be installed in a PQ-14 target drone. The bright-red PQ-14, adapted from the Culver Cadet, a prewar sport airplane, was a low-wing monoplane with a wingspan of thirty feet and a length of nineteen feet six inches, powered by a Franklin O-300 engine. It had a top speed of about 120 mph. The remainder of the task force comprised a Beech CQ-3 radio-control mother ship, a modified C-45 that would control the PQ-14, and a B-17 that carried the recording instruments and the observers from the armament lab.
In accordance with the test program, the first firing missions would be accomplished by two F-84s with only two of the six .50-caliber machine guns loaded. Two additional F-84s, with all six guns loaded, would fly as safety planes to shoot down the PQ-14 if it was damaged or malfunctioned and headed toward the shore. The firing would be done over the Gulf ranges and away from the shore, the standard practice for aerial gunnery at Eglin. On the first mission Thomas "Hoot" Gibson and I would do the firing, with Don Dessert and Joe Young flying the safety fighters.
Just before the first mission we were briefed in detail by the project officer from the armament lab. He explained again the function of the FEI and its importance to future aerial gunnery training. It would permit immediate and accurate scoring by eliminating the tedious counting of various colored bullet holes in the target, which I remembered so well from my days at fighter gunnery instructor's school, and would identify what hits were made on each pass, which would be a great boon to the gunnery instructors.
To minimize the possibility of hitting the PQ-14, we were instructed to fire at a range of at least 750 yards (almost half a mile) at an angle-off of no less than 60 degrees. We were also to fire short bursts to be sure that only a minimum number of bullets would be recorded on each pass. I asked if we were supposed to aim directly at the target and was told that we should, since the objective was to get the bullets as close as possible to the target.
At the conclusion of the briefing the fighter pilots remained in the operations room until the Wright Field aircraft had taken off, then we went out to the armament area where the F-84s were standing loaded and ready. As soon as we were notified that the target aircraft was in position and the equipment was functioning, we took off. I was leading with Hoot on my wing, and Don led the safety planes with Joe on his wing. I quickly spotted the red PQ-14 at 5,000 feet flying parallel to the shore with the CQ-3 and the B-17 about a mile behind.
After asking for and receiving permission to begin firing, I made my first pass, using a high-side approach from about 1,000 feet above the target and ahead of it to ensure a high angle off. I had misjudged my position slightly and could not lead the target enough to fire. Hoot, who was following my pattern, had the same problem and did not fire. I started the second pass not quite so far ahead and was able to fire a short but evidently accurate burst. The PQ-14 emitted a large plume of smoke and, nosing over, dived into the Gulf. After enduring some raucous remarks including, "That was the shortest test on record, Deadeye," "Whose side are you on, Lope?" and a brief rendition of ''Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" from the other pilots, I led the flight back to Eglin, gloating quietly to myself over my latest victory. I eschewed a victory roll because the PQ-14 was small and unarmed, but I did indulge in a victory bank. After landing, we taxied to the armament area, where the ammunition was unloaded. Then we taxied back to the flight line, where the crew chief immediately stenciled a silhouette of a PQ-14 on my fuselage just below the cockpit. I never did find out how he had prepared the stencil so quickly. Later, back in operations, the chief armorer reported that I had fired a total of only seven rounds. The CQ-3 and B-17 did not even land at Eglin but went directly back to Wright Field. We never heard from any of them or of the FEI again, which seemed rather strange, although Rode later learned that all the bullets had hit the target so no data were recorded by the FEI.
The next morning someone had expanded on the "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" theme by writing the following new verse to the song on the blackboard:
No one took credit for the verse, for obvious reasons.
I was sorry that the major effort of aerial testing of the FEI had gone for naught but was not surprised at hitting the target. I had always been good at aerial gunnery, and over the last few years I had gotten a great deal of practice firing from long range and high angle off during the P-38 gun-sight test. Although the F-84 at that time was equipped with a fixed gun-sight instead of the radar-ranging, lead-computing A-1 sight, the practice in smooth, accurate tracking paid off.
It is likely that the armament lab was on the right track with the acoustic system. In May 1986, the 75th Fighter Squadron held its reunion in Alexandria, Louisiana, home of England Air Force Base, where the squadron was then based. Part of the 23rd Tactical Fighter Wing, it was equipped with the Republic A-10 Thunderbolt II, a twin-jet, armored, ground-attack fighter armed with antitank missiles and a 30mm GAU-8/A Avenger gun with seven rotating barrels capable of firing 4,200 rounds a minute. The squadron put on a firing demonstration that was quite impressive, with A-10s popping up from behind hills, firing from long range at a target, and then disappearing behind other hills. As soon as each pass was completed, range control announced the number of hits the pilot had scored. I didn't think much of it at the time, but much later I found out that the target had an acoustic scoring device that instantly recorded and displayed in the control tower the number of rounds that had passed through the target.
I add with pride that the 23rd "Flying Tiger" Tactical Fighter Wing performed well in the Gulf War (Desert Storm). It was good to see those shark mouths on the noses of aircraft in action again, although I'm sure that all of us old-timers would agree that nothing looks as good as a shark mouth on the nose of a P-40.
Eglin Field, especially back in the late forties, was in a sparsely populated area, perfect for its mission but without much in the way of entertainment except for the magnificent beaches. But one does not live by sand alone, so the base personnel had to search out their own entertainment. Of course, the base theater was popular, since it ran all the latest films, and the price of admission was only fifteen cents. There was a little theater group that produced two or three plays a year. We also attended and enjoyed the weekend dances at the officer's club, which often featured name bands. The major event, however, was the annual Mardi Gras, including a big parade with prizes for the best floats and a fancy-dress ball at the club with awards for the best costumes.
I never have been one to enjoy playing dress up, but I did want to attend the ball. I would have settled for a false mustache as a costume, but Glyn came up with a much better idea — better for her, that is. She decided we would go as the Tin Man and Dorothy. All she had to do was braid her hair and wear a pinafore dress and hair ribbons. I was to be encased in cardboard boxes, funnels, and foil. I resisted as much as possible and even offered to switch roles, but she said that my hair was too short to braid. Although I had to agree, I held out until I came home from work a few days before the event and found the back porch covered with cardboard boxes, rubber gloves, and old shoes, all painted silver. I capitulated. I even joined in by making a wooden axe and painting it silver.