By Walt Fink

My involvement with the Regulus program started in 1963 when I was assigned a tour of duty with Utility Squadron One (VU-1) at NAS Barbers Point, Hawaii. VU-I had taken over "Reg" operations on 1 September 1960 from Guided Missile Group One and conducted operations from ALF Bonham. Regulus I was a Chance Vought product and, as such, shared some of the eccentricities of that firm’s designs. In the case of the Regulus, its built-in uniqueness was the lack of a horizontal tail, which, if things went wrong, gave it the flying characteristics of a greased manhole cover. This isn’t to suggest the Reg was an unsuccessful piece of machinery, but when things went wrong, the results were often spectacular. As used by VU-1, Regulus I came in two types, one, the TM (formerly the Tactical Missile), was now a target missile and was painted all dark-blue and occasionally with high-visibility markings. The TM was a one-shot affair. It could not be recovered once launched, and thus its first flight was its last. TMs were either shot down by gunfire or missiles from ships or aircraft, or were dumped at sea if they survived that long. The FTM (Fleet Training Missile) was painted all-red, and among its features was an extendable tricycle landing gear upon which the bird was recovered after a tracking or training exercise.

VU-l used two types of airborne drone control aircraft during my tour, the F-A (F8U-lD) and the DT-33B (TV-2D). The Crusader was the primary aircraft used for launch, escort and control of Regulus, while the T-bird was utilized to take control of the FTMs in the final phases of flight and guide them to final approach to the runway for recovery at Bonham.

Once established on final, the ground controller took command of the missile and controlled its glidepath to touchdown. There were, as I recall, two ground controllers. The azimuth controller was stationed on the upwind-extended centerline and controlled the missile right or left relative to the centerline. The azimuth station was located on a trailer out behind some well-fortified sand dunes where, should the missile land long, fail to engage the arresting gear or make a beeline for the operator, he was protected. Remember, the operators were staring through a set of cross-hair lenses, right down the throat of the missile as it made its landing. As most can figure out, the place not to be is in front of a landing jet aeromachine. . . let alone a pilotless one.

On the day of a scheduled Reg shoot, the technicians and VU-1 personnel would assemble at Bonham and set up Benzine Control, the launch facility. The Reg was prepared on the launch pad, wings spread and locked, engine run-up and link/control checks performed, JATO slippers and boosters mounted. Missile countdown was initiate at two hours prior to launch. At T-minus-30, VU-l’s drone control aircraft would launch from Barbers Point and head toward Bonham A minimum of two chase aircraft and, when needed, a third made up the launch group. The third aircraft was a "shooter" with loaded 20mm cannon to be used in the event of an uncontrolled missile. If a shooter wasn’t available, one of the two DF-8As could be armed Prior to launch, the lead F8, or "pickup" aircraft, established communications with Benzine Control while descending over Bonhan In the meantime, the launch group checked their equipment in turn by taking command of the live missile on the launch pad.

Once the missile was launched, had leveled off at cruise and speed and was steady on the firing track toward the exercise ship the group leader ensured the ship’s gunners had radar and visual contact the missile. The downrange track paralleled the ship offset to the firing side. When he ship’s gunners had contact and were confirmed to be tracking the Reg, the Crusaders broke toward the non-firing side of the ship and paralleled the missile’s If the ship failed to down the Reg, the F8s picked it up down the firing track after cease-fire and turned it back toward the ship to repeat the process. When the firing was to be conducted by aircraft, the launch group broke away and left the Regulus clear for the firing After a missile, the aircraft would then return to Barbers Point. In the case of an FTM, the launch-and-control aircraft would to Bonham for recovery.

Recovery of an FTM was accomplished by the launch group aircraft craft returning the missile to an extended approach pattern, in some instances, turning airborne control over to the DT-33B. The advantage of the T-bird was its two-seat configuration that allowed in the back seat to control the aircraft while the pilot in the seat could give his undivided attention to flying the Regulas’ seat configuration provided an extra measure of safety as the aircraft flew fairly close formation on the missile. While controllers actually landed the Reg, the chase aircraft flew close wing on it and operations that close to the ground demand extra attention. Each Reg program pilot in our squadron was shown a short film taken of a TV-2D flying with an FTM on final approach in which he aircraft impacted the ground, flipped inverted and collided with he missile, all in an instant. The scene was etched indelibly in our memories.

If a wave off was required, the ground controller went to 100 percent auto throttle, pulled the Reg’s nose up and flew it around the pattern for another try. At least one wave off I heard about in our squadron resulted in a spectacular crash. The ground operator’s bank knob was link-connected to the Reg’s controls so that it would bank in the direction the knob was moved. Since the controller was looking directly down the missile’s intake, moving the knob left actually made the Reg bank right. On this particular wave off, as the missile passed over the azimuth control station, the operator attempted to send it out to sea for another approach. Except that he was now looking at the tail of the bird, and when he went to what he thought was gentle left bank, the Reg took off to the right. Further panicky twisting of knob-left only steepened the right bank, bringing the missile around the tower as the startled controllers looked on with open mouths. The Reg impacted into the cliffs east of Bonham with thunderous roar and great orange fireball, to the mild astonishment of a sugar cane farmer in an adjacent field.

The next most important piece of flying machinery to the Regulus program came in the form of VU-l’s three F9F Panthers; I believe they were not only the last flyable Panthers in the fleet, but in the entire world as well. These three birds, BuNos 126268, 126275 and 26279, were converted from standard F9F-5Ps to F9F-5KDs with the addition of a complete Regulus control and autopilot installation, thus making them essentially piloted drones. We flew them with pilots aboard; as the autopilots were unpredictable and not good enough guarantee the survival of the drone in the event of a malfunction. Then the common service designators were applied in 1962, our anthers were redesignated DF-9Es, though that was technically correct. Our F9s had their Reg control gear removed and, since the "D" prefix was applied to aircraft, which could control a drone, they were actually QF-9Es (F9F-5K). But it’s a small point when you have the only three aircraft in the world of that type right in your own hangar, and you are the O&R, NATOPS and fleet coordinator for that type.

The F9s were training platforms — used to train drone control pilots before they worked on the Regulus missions, for ground controller training and occasionally "other" controller training. The F9s had pretty much the same characteristics of the Regulus except that they ere 100 knots slower. I have a really soft spot in my heart for the F9s, as they served us so well with what little was available. Regulus was scheduled for phase out, so spares for the missile as well as the Panthers were virtually non-existent. Our squadron personnel frequently had to manufacture parts locally to keep the program, the F9s and the Regs flying. The biggest problem was electronics.

The F9’s autopilot, nicknamed "Goldie," was an unpredictable device. When the drone or Delta pilot received the command, "Engage Goldie," he had better have his seat-belt and shoulder harness tight and locked, for Goldie could do remarkable things with the aircraft that often far exceeded the ability of the pilot’s eye to follow.

The first time I gave Goldie the airplane, absolutely nothing unusual happened. The same was true the next few times until I began to feel downright comfortable with her and figured all the horror stories I’d been told were so much bilge water. Ah, but Goldie was a fickle woman indeed, and during a routine flight she let me have it right squarely in the seat pan by trying to do 90-degree jinks in all directions at once when I went to "engage." At least that’s what it felt like.

The F9F was a stable and solid aircraft. One of our little fleet had her plane captain climb in to do some routine cleaning between flights and his bellbottoms caught on the emergency gear extension T-handle. As it was pulled out, the nitrogen bottle performed as advertised and "blew the gear" while sitting right there in the chocks. It was now necessary to pull the plane into the hangar, put it up on jacks and cycle the gear many times to purge the lines of nitrogen.

During the last "up" cycle, the hydraulic jenny ran out of gas and died. The maintenance crew let the gear freefall back down into place, removed the jacks and left for chow. Unfortunately, with no hydraulic pressure, the gear wasn’t locked down. After sitting there awhile, the Panther’s gear folded and the entire air station knew by the resounding CLANG! That VU-1 had a situation on its hands.

We jacked the plane up, locked the gear in place and found the only damage to be a busted tip tank …. together with a little more dihedral in the right wing than in the left. We scheduled a test flight to check for rigging problems but found it actually flew better than its sisters. Though it sat a little cockeyed on the ramp, in the air she was a real jewel.

Training a drone control pilot was, from the F9F drone pilot’s point of view, a real experience. If you successfully managed to get Goldie on-line and operating, you then turned control of your aircraft over to the controller and hung on. One of my experiences with an F8U pilot on an impromptu drone fam started in level flight and from there went through just about every other attitude known. I transmitted the usual, "I have zero pitch, zero bank, 100 percent and niner selected." He confirmed his settings likewise, and then turned on his carrier wave. The auto throttle in the F9 came smartly back against the stop with a THWACK and he passed me like I was backing up. Apparently, as the pilot who looks at the landing gear indicator, see "up, up, and up," and calls the tower with, "three down and locked, he’d overlooked the auto throttle control which was in idle. We got that problem resolved after some gyrations, then tried a gentle climb

He next selected the "climb" function, but instead of just blipping the INC/DEC (increase/decrease) switch, held it in the INC position; I pulled a few g’s and shot straight up. The Crusader followed in hot but lagging pursuit with the poor F8 guy trying to handle stick and throttle with one hand, banging on full DEC position of the sight switch with the other and all the while trying to keep me in sight. The F9 next pitched down, and all I could see over my right should was the business-end of the Crusader in a mad climb. We passed each other in vertical semi-scissors a couple more times before we got things sorted out.

As I said, it could be a real experience; some of the guys let the ground controller bring them in for landings in the F9, but I never got to that stage. From the Crusader pilots’ viewpoint, however, flying the Regulus was far more. . . er, interesting than flying the F9Fs. Whereas the F9 would behave like a normal air machine, the Regulus could (and would, and did on many occasions) seemingly defy the laws of aerodynamics when something went awry. If a flameout occurred in flight, the missile might tumble, spin, snap roll or just gently glide into the ocean. You never knew. But by far, the hairiest portion of the flight was the Regulus pickup at Bonham. I have seen he Reg make flick turns off the launch pad or have a booster separate prematurely, or dive into the sea. One of ours roared off the launcher, folded its wings and took the deep six; apparently a technician had missed something on his preflight checklist.

Timing was critical, if the pickup pilot transmitted "Fire" too early, the missile would be way out in front of him—but this situation was preferred to overrunning the Reg or transmitting "Fire" too late. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, to look over your shoulder at a missile being launched up your tail. More sobering, while all this happening you were going like hell at 150 feet AGL and not look-where you were headed.

Lt Arland Nankivil, on his second Reg pickup of the day (his first flamed out and deep-sixed after a few minutes of flight) overran the pickup point, or called "Fire" too late, or whatever. Murphy always his say-so in these affairs. Only one booster fired (naturally, the opposite Nan’s F8U), and the Regulus came after him. The ground personnel swore the two collided inverted, both wrapped in tight, right, high-g barrel rolls at 150 feet. But when the spray cleared, Nan is F8 was seen unscathed in a max-performance climb — he still doesn't know how the Reg missed him.

Nan set a record that day, incidentally, by losing three Regs, His third went stupid off the pad and impacted into the ocean a mile or ff Bonham. The Lord looks after drunks, little babies and drone control pilots.

Reg operations, scheduled for termination in June 1966, took on different appearance, as we got closer to that date. All missiles, TMs FTMs alike, were launched on one-way flights. Some of the best FTMs, many with several recoveries to their credit, were sadly launched their destruction. (Editor’s note. The last of 1,129 Regulus I program was from Bonham 6 June 1966, an incredible achievement for the total 514 missiles of all types built.)

Our CO, CDR Pete Brady, decided to scrap the Panthers. It was a most unpopular move with the F9F pilots but so not with the squadron’s electricians. We were, however, able to talk Pete into a real piping-over-the-side ceremony, with the entire squadron and two of the F9Fs sister having machines in attendance while the Panthers passed in review. One of the F9s ended up in the Ontario Air Museum and one became a static display aircraft at Barbers Point, painted in some semblance of Blue Angels markings. I unfortunately lost track of the third. Sadly for many of us, the year 1966 brought with it the end of one of NavAir’s more colorful programs and the demise of the F9F Panther after nearly 20 years service.