Bochenko was a pilot with the Soviet Air Defense Forces based in Chuguyevka, Primorsky Krai. This was located northeast of Vladivostok in western USSR. He not only told us how he stole the jet but why he did it.
Like many in Russia at the time, Bochenko hated his communist overlords. Instead of being the worker’s paradise it was purported to be, the USSR was a paradise for the party leadership only. Doctors, engineers, pilots and other skilled professionals were treated like unskilled laborers. Low wages, poor housing, and few amenities were the normal way of life for the vast majority of the population. Galling to him, more than anything else, was the lack of freedom. He and his family lived in an apartment house on base. The building was prefabricated somewhere else and shipped to his base in two pieces. They slapped the two pieces together on a muddy plain. The two pieces of the prefab building didn’t quite fit together leaving many gaps at the joints. The construction crew filled in these gaps with mud and newspapers.
He dreamed of escape for a long time but the state’s control of information prevented him from acting. Pilots were not allowed to have maps. The government didn’t want them to know their exact location fearing just what Bochenko had in mind.
Soviet planes flew using an entirely different philosophy than their American counterparts. Radar ground controllers were in charge of Russian fighters. Once cleared for takeoff, pilots were told when to turn, climb, descend, accelerate, and decelerate. In formation flying, the lead aircraft followed the ground controller’s instructions and the wingmen stayed in position, following lead.
Bochenko wanted out but he had to know exactly where he was and where he should go. There were no maps on base but there was a library in a nearby town. He found the maps he needed in that small library. He learned the exact location of his air base and also where he had to go to safely escape.
He started planning immediately. He decided he was going to Japan and he had to ensure that no one followed him. Japan was the only real option he had. It was the nearest non-communist country but he had to make it across the Sea of Japan to get there.
Several factors had to line up for this to work. It had to be done when the weather was good. He needed to navigate visually and be able to see the airport when he got there. He reasoned that he had to be the last plane in a formation flight: #3 in a 3 ship, or #4 in a 4 ship. He needed to have enough fuel to make his destination plus a little extra for insurance. The closest airport with a runway that would accommodate his aircraft was Japan’s Hakodate Airport.
At the time of his defection, the MIG-25 was the most advanced Soviet fighter and he knew if he brought such a prize to the West, he could use his defection to bargain for his asylum.
September 6, 1976, was the day all his requirements were met. The weather was good enough to see the point of land in Russia he would use as his departure point. Once he hit that point, all he had to do was hold his heading across the Sea of Japan and wait for land to come into view. He was scheduled to be #3 in a 3-ship formation. He coaxed his support crew into giving him some extra fuel. Now all he had to do was wait for the right time to execute his escape maneuver. The right time turned out to be an echelon turn. An echelon turn has number two and number three behind the lead. Bochenko could see lead and number two but they couldn’t see him. As lead and two went into a left turn Bochenko rolled right, dropped his altitude down to the deck, and lit his afterburners. In short order he was down at 100 feet going in excess of Mach 1.5. He hit his spot on the coast, took up his heading, and waited for land to appear.
He felt confident that no one was following him. He throttled back because his fuel was disappearing rapidly due to use of the afterburners. His defection would be meaningless if he had to ditch at sea. He saw Japan in the distance but he stayed low until he was within a few miles of Hokodate airport. He lined up on initial at 2,000 feet but he was doing 400 knots. He had to slow down if he wanted to land. He didn’t have enough fuel left to go around and try for a second approach. He slowed as best he could; configured the airplane with gear and flaps and started his final turn. He was still high and fast but he had to make this approach work. He slammed the aircraft down on the runway and stomped on the brakes. The twin drag chutes automatically deployed, but he was still too fast. He ran off the end of the runway and his airplane settled into the mud, but it was undamaged.
This was the first time western experts were able to get a close look at the MIG-25 and it revealed many secrets and surprises. One of the surprises was how crudely manufactured the aircraft was. All U.S. aircraft wings, for example, were flush riveted, giving the wing a continuous, smooth surface. The MIG’s wings had rivets sticking up all across them. The U.S. was making Maseratis; the Russians were building flying tanks.
The Japanese initially only allowed the U.S. to do a cursory examination of the MIG. This included ground testing the radar and the engines. Later, the Japanese relented and invited the Americans to examine the plane extensively; and it was dismantled for this purpose. When the Americans had finished their analysis of the airplane, the Japanese loaded it into 30 crates and placed them aboard a Russian cargo ship. The crates arrived back in Russia in November 1976.
As for Bochenko, President Ford granted him asylum and a trust fund was set up for him, giving him a very comfortable living in his later years. U.S. intelligence personnel interrogated him for five months and employed him as a consultant for several years thereafter. In 1980, the U.S. Congress enacted S2961, authorizing citizenship for Bochenko. President Carter signed it into law in October 1980.
Bochenko married a music teacher from North Dakota and had two children but later divorced. He never divorced his Russian wife he left behind but he did visit Moscow in 1995 on a business trip. It is not known if he saw his wife and son.
Chapter 12
There were fifteen pilots in our U-2 squadron. We all rotated to two or three overseas locations so the chances of meeting all the pilots while I was at Beale between rotations were remote. As pilots returned to Beale from overseas, I made a point of getting to know the ones new to me. One such returnee was Terry Reitman. I had heard accounts of U-2 bailouts from other squadron pilots. Terry had ejected and lived to tell about it. Once I got to know Terry, he filled in the details of his brush with death.
He launched from Alconbury Air Base, UK, in May 1975. Terry’s mission was photo recon of the East and West German border. He was well above 70,000 feet when, without warning, the aircraft’s control column pitched violently forward. Terry disconnected the autopilot and tried to pull the column back, but it wouldn’t budge. The airplane pitched forward and started spinning out of control. Terry was able to transmit a “Mayday” message prior to ejection.
The ejection system had a high mode and a low mode. If you ejected at high altitude, like Terry did, the pilot and the seat (as one unit) were separated from the airplane. A drogue chute deployed stabilizing the pilot and his seat as they fell. A built-in altimeter in the seat assembly sent out a signal at 15,000 feet, activating a “butt snapper” separating the pilot from the seat. Once clear of the seat, the pilot’s main chute deployed. Terry was hanging from the chute descending and hoping that the prevailing winds would keep him in the west. The East Germans were on full alert having seen his plane on their radar prior to the ejection. Capturing a U-2 pilot in East German airspace would be a huge propaganda victory for the communists. The East Germans launched everything they had including fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters. Meanwhile, the USAF Search and Rescue team had been alerted along with the West Germans. Everyone was looking for Terry. The crippled aircraft had broken apart due to the high “G” forces but all the parts fell in West Germany. Terry landed in the West, in a heavily wooded area about 100 miles northeast of Bonn. He was uninjured.