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Major Trinh Tranh Chau
South Vietnamese Air Force
Northrop Grumman
Inside Stories: Vietnamese F-5 Pilot
A 522nd FS Northrop F-5A prepares to roll in on a Việt Cộng position with Mk.82 bombs.
PHOTOS WARREN E THOMPSON • MAJ CHAU PERSONAL COLLECTION
• CHRIS CLIFFORD • NORTHROP AIRCRAFT CORPORATION
This coming April 30 signifies the 45th anniversary of the Fall of Saigon in Vietnam. With this in mind, the author took the opportunity to meet former South Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF) pilot Maj Trinh Tranh Chau and hear his account.
Boyhood dreams
A former operations officer with the VNAF’s 542nd Fighter Squadron (FS) at Bien Hoa Air Base, 16 miles (25km) from Saigon, Maj Chau had a distinguished flying career. In fact, he even gained notoriety in the pages of Northrop’s 1974 F-5 marketing brochure after notching up 2,000 hours on the type.
Having daydreamed about flying since boyhood, his ambition became reality in 1963. Beginning at Lackland Air Force Base (AFB) in Texas for language school, the young lieutenant was soon sent to Randolph AFB to fly the North American T-28 Trojan during his initial pilot training. Chau recalls: “When I was young, it was a dream of mine to become a pilot after reading a book written by a Vietnamese Air Force commander. We needed to be ready to defend our country – and of course the girls would come after you.” Returning to South Vietnam, Chau and the other graduating pilots continued flying the Trojan for a brief period.
With Operation Farm Gate (the USAF’s endeavour to provide air cover for the South Vietnamese ground forces) winding down in 1963, the VNAF took charge of its airspace while supporting operations to quell the Viêt Công. To give the air force a tactical advantage, the Trojan was soon phased out in favour of the formidably armed Douglas A-1 Skyraider. Chau continues: “I was stationed at Bien Hoa where we had two squadrons of Skyraiders and served with the 514th FS for two years. Most of the time, we were used to support the [army’s] Third and Fourth Corps’ area of operations and had American advisors on base to make sure we did things right.
“Our mission was mainly providing close air support [CAS] to the ground operation. We [normally] orbited the area while watching the helicopters come and drop off the troops. I liked the Skyraider for what it could carry on the pylons, plenty of napalm, rockets and bombs. We often flew in pairs, or in fours during these big operations. While the ground fire really didn’t bother us since the A-1 had armour plating we did lose our wing commander [who was] killed after being brought down. I flew many missions, but my aircraft was never really hit while flying in southern Vietnam. I [did fly one mission over the DMZ [Demilitarised Zone] to bomb a target near Đông Hó‚i in 1965.”
The VNAF Air Force Commander and Chief, Nguyễn Cao Kỳ, in the cockpit of an F-5B. Despite his lofty position, Kỳ often flew combat missions alongside his pilots and crews, including one with Maj Chau.
Taming the Tiger
Realising the VNAF was unable to maintain its small fleet of Martin B-57 Canberras, due in part to a lack of personnel discipline, the US formulated a plan to introduce Northrop’s F-5 in its place. In October 1965, the first F-5As arrived at Bien Hoa and were hurried into combat just hours later.
This superb little fighter made a huge impact with its easy maintenance, relaxed handling and excellent manoeuvrability. With the arrival of the new jet, VNAF bosses soon appeared to cast an eye over it. The VNAF Air Force Commander and Chief, Nguyê˜n Cao Kỳ, often did his best to maintain the morale and resolve of his pilots with numerous visits to air bases. Despite his position, Kỳ always led from the cockpit and often flew combat missions alongside his dedicated pilots and crews. Chau reminisces: “ Nguyê˜n Cao Kỳ did come to Bien Hoa quite often where I spoke to him on more than one occasion. I flew with him as part of my formation during a mission while flying the F-5. Kỳ was very good to all his pilots. We looked up to him as a leader.”
The emergence of the supersonic jet necessitated retraining at Williams AFB, Arizona, for select South Vietnamese pilots including Chau, to familiarise them with this new flight regime. It was there he found the aircraft’s speed and acceleration intoxicating. Completing their conversion, the pilots were expedited home as the conflict in Vietnam gained momentum. Almost immediately on his return, Chau began flying dedicated CAS missions – a task he continued over the next several years. He remembers: “We did fly operations in direct support of the US ground forces near Cambodia, and of course Khe Sanh. I pulled a TDY [temporary duty assignment] at Da Nang to support the defence of Khe Sanh – I was amazed at all the bomb craters [in the vicinity]. How could any enemy troops still be alive down there? These missions were some of the most interesting I flew.” Following the orderly withdrawal of the USAF from Vietnamese skies in the wake of the Paris Peace Accords, the VNAF was soon tasked with intercepting MiGs venturing down from the north. The talent of the defending pilots was not wasted with many, including Chau, being sent back to the US for five months of dedicated air combat training.
South Vietnamese Air Force F-5A 65-10546, of the 522nd FS, sits in a revetment at Da Nang AFB in January 1969. Maj Chau flew from the same base while undertaking support missions during the defence of Khe Sanh in the early 1970s.
A trio of F-5s undertaking a strike mission loaded with napalm on September 23, 1968
”It wasn’t bad”
The war intensified in 1974, with North Vietnam determined to overthrow the south once and for all. However, its plans were thwarted for a time due to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) and VNAF’s fierce resistance. Chau continued to fly CAS missions at a frantic pace and with notable distinction. As the battle continued, the arrival of modern technology in the conflict area meant new missile threats began to appear, resulting in a change of tactics. Given the F-5’s lack of adequate countermeasures, pilots were forced to bomb targets from higher altitudes, which adversely affected accuracy.
Maj Chau muses: “Until 1974 the AA [anti-aircraft] fire wasn’t normally that heavy, but we started to encounter the new shoulder-mounted SA-7 Grail guided missile. Although, when I saw any missiles heading towards me, there was often time to manoeuvre away from them.
“ Flying the F-5 in combat wasn’t too bad. On your typical cloudy day, we couldn’t see the ground, but the radar-controlled enemy guns could and did frequently home in on us. It was like being a boxer in the ring, trying to avoid the punches – I can still often see the tracer coming up at me. Despite them firing at us, we had orders to take out the ground targets – you couldn’t just turn away thinking ‘forget it’.”
“We did lose men and aircraft on these missions. It was sad – but that is war. If I was ever shot down, I would have preferred to ‘ride’ it down otherwise the NVA [North Vietnamese Army] would shoot and kill me while coming down by parachute.”
In early 1974, South Vietnamese budgetary restrictions cut deep into VNAF flight operations and pilot training – as did a delicate fuel supply situation – meaning fewer sorties were flown. The lack of spare parts and trained maintainers started stretching its capabilities beyond its limits. At the same time, numerous ARVN outposts were being overrun by the NVA in blatant violation of the peace talks; city after city started falling to enemy guns. Desperate actions were called for when it was realised that Bien Hoa would soon be in the crosshairs, as Chau recalls: “We had to try and figure out how and when we should leave. Where should we head to – Thailand or the Philippines?”
Two VNAF F-5s returning from a mission. At the time, the type was the most advanced fighter ever operated by this air arm.
.jpg)
South Vietnam AF Northrop F-5B 65-13074, of the 602nd FS, taxies out at Bien Hoa AB for a training sortie in 1968.
Cutting class
Despite the ongoing war, Maj Chau was shipped to a mandatory staff officer training course in Saigon during mid-April 1975. While staying with family close to Tan Son Nhut AB, the situation grew dire over the remaining days of the month and, on April 29, the pilot was forced to flee the communist invasion. The NVA did not waste any time in trying to storm the base, unleashing a rocket attack early in the morning.
Chau recalls: “On April 28 I was at my father-in-law’s house and we heard the sound of what we thought was thunder. After checking to see that the sky was clear, it dawned on me that it was explosions nearby. I later heard that captured [Cessna] A-37 jets had hit the airfield. My father-in-law then told me to get back to the base right away. I drove to the main gate and showed my ID card, but the guard refused me permission to enter and said the base was closed. So, I went back to my car and sat listening to the radio and heard that our troops had retreated from Bien Hoa.
“The main gate was finally opened at 0300hrs just as the enemy started to attack the area once again with rockets. Tan Son Nhut suffered heavily. I was attending the Staff Officer School, so technically I was not allowed to fly anything – I wasn’t even allowed near the jets. The explosions got closer and closer while we were taking cover in one of the tactical fighter squadron buildings. I began to feel in my gut that it was time to leave.”
Photographed on January 15, 1969, these F-5s have just completed a bombing mission against enemy ground positions. As Major Chau describes: “Flying the F-5 in combat wasn’t bad.”
What do we do?
With the enemy advancing rapidly, Chau and the other pilots gathered together to await orders. He remembers: “I rushed into the survival equipment room, where all the parachutes, pistols and flying accessories were stored. I stood by awaiting orders from the wing commander. Unbelievably, he walked away from us to attend a staff meeting. When he came back, he ordered us to seek shelter in the TACC [Tactical Air Command Center] building. This was safer as it was essentially a concrete bunker. At the time quite a few F-5s were up in the air attacking the approaching NVA.”
As the rocket strikes intensified, the tension and uncertainty grew considerably – the situation did not look good. The VNAF major quietly contemplated his next course of action.
He remembers: “From the bunker I could see and hear F-5s taking off. I sat down and asked myself ‘how come we’re still here?’. Suddenly, a flustered pilot appeared with a pickup truck. I asked the guy, ‘What do you need?’ and he replied, ‘I need a pilot to fly a mission.’ I asked him if I could join him, but he answered ‘no’. The mission was considered ‘special’ and since I was not on the flying roster I wasn’t allowed to fly. At that very moment I knew these men were abandoning us while the base was under attack. The main reason I knew something was up was that on a normal day, if you were on duty and standing by in reserve, and for some reason a pilot did not show up, you automatically went as a replacement.”
Maj Chau (back row, far left) was one of the initial cadre of South Vietnamese pilots sent to Williams AFB, Arizona, to convert to the F-5.
South Vietnamese flag patch worn by crews.
Point proven
Chau continues: “I knew it was time to get the hell out of here. I then screamed out, ‘Hey those guys are leaving us!’ as I pointed to the departing F-5s. I jumped on the back of a passing motor scooter and raced out to the flight line. The base was heavily under attack now.”
Arriving at the parked aircraft, some had already been damaged in the ensuing ambush. He recalls: “I looked at all the parked fighters and some had already been hit by shrapnel. I told the guy driving, we will live together or die together, and we started looking for a flyable jet. A few minutes later, I found one and checked the Air Force Form 781A form [maintenance log]. It showed that the jet had a bad radio, but a decent fuel load. It would do.
"The crew chief suddenly showed up. He’d been my very best friend since high school. He told me, ‘Chau don’t worry, I will stay behind, you… you go… leave.’ At the time I had 200,000 Vietnamese đông in cash, so I gave it to him yelling, ‘You can keep the scooter too!’ I shouted to the other pilot, ‘Hey son, I found a good jet.’ In the ensuing chaos a security guard appeared and came up to us with his finger on the trigger of his rifle.
"He asked, ‘Sir can I fly with you?’ I thought carefully as if I say no, I would probably be shot. Luckily another scooter arrived with a pilot on it. I shouted out, ‘Hey lieutenant take this sergeant with you – find [a jet] and get airborne. Head for Thailand.’ So, my other comrade returned and we prepared to leave, but we had no flight suits or helmets. We removed the seat cushion for the F-5, with the life raft in it. The other guy jumped in the ejection seat and I sat right down on top of him – he was my cushion. We didn’t need a helmet because we were not going to eject from the jet. The crew chief started up the APU and got air into the engines.”
A former operations officer with the VNAF’s 542nd FS at Bien Hoa AB, Maj Chau had a distinguished combat career.
.jpg)
This Northrop F-5 shows the variety of ordnance it could carry. The aircraft is currently on display at the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum in Hanoi.
This Northrop F-5 shows the variety of ordnance it could carry. The aircraft is currently on display at the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum in Hanoi.
.jpg)
Two VNAF F-5As line up for take-off for a napalm strike against Việt Cộng positioned just to the north of Saigon on September 13, 1968.
Freedom flight
Maj Chau recalled arriving at his destination – the nearest runway in Thailand: “We took off and headed for Utapao Air Base since I didn’t have enough fuel to reach Clark’s runway. As we approached the air base, I flew over the runway with the wheels down, landing lights on and started to rock my wings since our radio didn’t work. Luckily, I got down safely and parked our jet. Looking across the airfield, I saw a single-seat F-5 pull into the parking spot next to us. It had three guys in the cockpit. All I could think was how in the hell did they do that. Imagine racing down the runway like in a dragster, and trying to pull back on the control stick, and having someone’s boot in the way. Years later at Randolph AFB, I showed my wife the normal tight fit inside an F-5 cockpit in the simulator building and said, ‘imagine that with three pilots’. This was the only time in history an F-5 fighter flew with three people in the ejection seat.
“After getting out of ‘our’ jet, the Thai military police arrived and they told us that we were going to be taken away, and then sent back to Vietnam. Fortunately, some USAF men came over and prevented that from happening. I spoke to other pilots when I joined them and they told me that a two-seat F-5B had left, just like us, with two men in each seat. The jet had crashed into the sea with four high-ranking officers. That was a sad story.”
At Utapao, the South Vietnamese pilots were gathered at the NCO club and, two days later, were flown to Andersen AFB, Guam. Chau was then transferred to Hickam AFB in Hawaii and then to Florida, where he was reunited with family. They had luckily escaped South Vietnam while in the custody of the Defense Attaché Office, which had been charged with the removal of nonessential personnel in March.
In 2015, Chau and his wife returned to Vietnam for the first time since 1975. Many things had changed. However, one thing did catch the intrepid pilot’s eye – an ex-VNAF F-5 sitting outside Independence Palace in Saigon – his former mount.
.jpg)
Northrop F-5A 65-10515 between missions at Bien Hoa AB in August 1968, having been delivered to the air arm in April 1967. Note the BLU-27 napalm containers on the outer pylons.
Maj Chau was featured in Northrop’s product manual in 1974, having logged 2,000 hours in the F-5. He is seen here with Bill Shuck from the manufacturer on October 15, 1974.
Source: https://www.key.aero/article/freedom-fighter
South Vietnamese Air Force
Northrop Grumman
Inside Stories: Vietnamese F-5 Pilot
Rolf Stibbe relays the story of former South Vietnamese Air Force aviator Major Trinh Tranh Chau, who reminisces about flying the Northrop F-5 – and his hair-raising escape from approaching communist forces
A 522nd FS Northrop F-5A prepares to roll in on a Việt Cộng position with Mk.82 bombs.
PHOTOS WARREN E THOMPSON • MAJ CHAU PERSONAL COLLECTION
• CHRIS CLIFFORD • NORTHROP AIRCRAFT CORPORATION
This coming April 30 signifies the 45th anniversary of the Fall of Saigon in Vietnam. With this in mind, the author took the opportunity to meet former South Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF) pilot Maj Trinh Tranh Chau and hear his account.
Boyhood dreams
A former operations officer with the VNAF’s 542nd Fighter Squadron (FS) at Bien Hoa Air Base, 16 miles (25km) from Saigon, Maj Chau had a distinguished flying career. In fact, he even gained notoriety in the pages of Northrop’s 1974 F-5 marketing brochure after notching up 2,000 hours on the type.
Having daydreamed about flying since boyhood, his ambition became reality in 1963. Beginning at Lackland Air Force Base (AFB) in Texas for language school, the young lieutenant was soon sent to Randolph AFB to fly the North American T-28 Trojan during his initial pilot training. Chau recalls: “When I was young, it was a dream of mine to become a pilot after reading a book written by a Vietnamese Air Force commander. We needed to be ready to defend our country – and of course the girls would come after you.” Returning to South Vietnam, Chau and the other graduating pilots continued flying the Trojan for a brief period.
With Operation Farm Gate (the USAF’s endeavour to provide air cover for the South Vietnamese ground forces) winding down in 1963, the VNAF took charge of its airspace while supporting operations to quell the Viêt Công. To give the air force a tactical advantage, the Trojan was soon phased out in favour of the formidably armed Douglas A-1 Skyraider. Chau continues: “I was stationed at Bien Hoa where we had two squadrons of Skyraiders and served with the 514th FS for two years. Most of the time, we were used to support the [army’s] Third and Fourth Corps’ area of operations and had American advisors on base to make sure we did things right.
“Our mission was mainly providing close air support [CAS] to the ground operation. We [normally] orbited the area while watching the helicopters come and drop off the troops. I liked the Skyraider for what it could carry on the pylons, plenty of napalm, rockets and bombs. We often flew in pairs, or in fours during these big operations. While the ground fire really didn’t bother us since the A-1 had armour plating we did lose our wing commander [who was] killed after being brought down. I flew many missions, but my aircraft was never really hit while flying in southern Vietnam. I [did fly one mission over the DMZ [Demilitarised Zone] to bomb a target near Đông Hó‚i in 1965.”
The VNAF Air Force Commander and Chief, Nguyễn Cao Kỳ, in the cockpit of an F-5B. Despite his lofty position, Kỳ often flew combat missions alongside his pilots and crews, including one with Maj Chau.
Taming the Tiger
Realising the VNAF was unable to maintain its small fleet of Martin B-57 Canberras, due in part to a lack of personnel discipline, the US formulated a plan to introduce Northrop’s F-5 in its place. In October 1965, the first F-5As arrived at Bien Hoa and were hurried into combat just hours later.
This superb little fighter made a huge impact with its easy maintenance, relaxed handling and excellent manoeuvrability. With the arrival of the new jet, VNAF bosses soon appeared to cast an eye over it. The VNAF Air Force Commander and Chief, Nguyê˜n Cao Kỳ, often did his best to maintain the morale and resolve of his pilots with numerous visits to air bases. Despite his position, Kỳ always led from the cockpit and often flew combat missions alongside his dedicated pilots and crews. Chau reminisces: “ Nguyê˜n Cao Kỳ did come to Bien Hoa quite often where I spoke to him on more than one occasion. I flew with him as part of my formation during a mission while flying the F-5. Kỳ was very good to all his pilots. We looked up to him as a leader.”
The emergence of the supersonic jet necessitated retraining at Williams AFB, Arizona, for select South Vietnamese pilots including Chau, to familiarise them with this new flight regime. It was there he found the aircraft’s speed and acceleration intoxicating. Completing their conversion, the pilots were expedited home as the conflict in Vietnam gained momentum. Almost immediately on his return, Chau began flying dedicated CAS missions – a task he continued over the next several years. He remembers: “We did fly operations in direct support of the US ground forces near Cambodia, and of course Khe Sanh. I pulled a TDY [temporary duty assignment] at Da Nang to support the defence of Khe Sanh – I was amazed at all the bomb craters [in the vicinity]. How could any enemy troops still be alive down there? These missions were some of the most interesting I flew.” Following the orderly withdrawal of the USAF from Vietnamese skies in the wake of the Paris Peace Accords, the VNAF was soon tasked with intercepting MiGs venturing down from the north. The talent of the defending pilots was not wasted with many, including Chau, being sent back to the US for five months of dedicated air combat training.
South Vietnamese Air Force F-5A 65-10546, of the 522nd FS, sits in a revetment at Da Nang AFB in January 1969. Maj Chau flew from the same base while undertaking support missions during the defence of Khe Sanh in the early 1970s.
A trio of F-5s undertaking a strike mission loaded with napalm on September 23, 1968
”It wasn’t bad”
The war intensified in 1974, with North Vietnam determined to overthrow the south once and for all. However, its plans were thwarted for a time due to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) and VNAF’s fierce resistance. Chau continued to fly CAS missions at a frantic pace and with notable distinction. As the battle continued, the arrival of modern technology in the conflict area meant new missile threats began to appear, resulting in a change of tactics. Given the F-5’s lack of adequate countermeasures, pilots were forced to bomb targets from higher altitudes, which adversely affected accuracy.
Maj Chau muses: “Until 1974 the AA [anti-aircraft] fire wasn’t normally that heavy, but we started to encounter the new shoulder-mounted SA-7 Grail guided missile. Although, when I saw any missiles heading towards me, there was often time to manoeuvre away from them.
“ Flying the F-5 in combat wasn’t too bad. On your typical cloudy day, we couldn’t see the ground, but the radar-controlled enemy guns could and did frequently home in on us. It was like being a boxer in the ring, trying to avoid the punches – I can still often see the tracer coming up at me. Despite them firing at us, we had orders to take out the ground targets – you couldn’t just turn away thinking ‘forget it’.”
“We did lose men and aircraft on these missions. It was sad – but that is war. If I was ever shot down, I would have preferred to ‘ride’ it down otherwise the NVA [North Vietnamese Army] would shoot and kill me while coming down by parachute.”
In early 1974, South Vietnamese budgetary restrictions cut deep into VNAF flight operations and pilot training – as did a delicate fuel supply situation – meaning fewer sorties were flown. The lack of spare parts and trained maintainers started stretching its capabilities beyond its limits. At the same time, numerous ARVN outposts were being overrun by the NVA in blatant violation of the peace talks; city after city started falling to enemy guns. Desperate actions were called for when it was realised that Bien Hoa would soon be in the crosshairs, as Chau recalls: “We had to try and figure out how and when we should leave. Where should we head to – Thailand or the Philippines?”
Two VNAF F-5s returning from a mission. At the time, the type was the most advanced fighter ever operated by this air arm.
South Vietnam AF Northrop F-5B 65-13074, of the 602nd FS, taxies out at Bien Hoa AB for a training sortie in 1968.
Cutting class
Despite the ongoing war, Maj Chau was shipped to a mandatory staff officer training course in Saigon during mid-April 1975. While staying with family close to Tan Son Nhut AB, the situation grew dire over the remaining days of the month and, on April 29, the pilot was forced to flee the communist invasion. The NVA did not waste any time in trying to storm the base, unleashing a rocket attack early in the morning.
Chau recalls: “On April 28 I was at my father-in-law’s house and we heard the sound of what we thought was thunder. After checking to see that the sky was clear, it dawned on me that it was explosions nearby. I later heard that captured [Cessna] A-37 jets had hit the airfield. My father-in-law then told me to get back to the base right away. I drove to the main gate and showed my ID card, but the guard refused me permission to enter and said the base was closed. So, I went back to my car and sat listening to the radio and heard that our troops had retreated from Bien Hoa.
“The main gate was finally opened at 0300hrs just as the enemy started to attack the area once again with rockets. Tan Son Nhut suffered heavily. I was attending the Staff Officer School, so technically I was not allowed to fly anything – I wasn’t even allowed near the jets. The explosions got closer and closer while we were taking cover in one of the tactical fighter squadron buildings. I began to feel in my gut that it was time to leave.”
Photographed on January 15, 1969, these F-5s have just completed a bombing mission against enemy ground positions. As Major Chau describes: “Flying the F-5 in combat wasn’t bad.”
What do we do?
With the enemy advancing rapidly, Chau and the other pilots gathered together to await orders. He remembers: “I rushed into the survival equipment room, where all the parachutes, pistols and flying accessories were stored. I stood by awaiting orders from the wing commander. Unbelievably, he walked away from us to attend a staff meeting. When he came back, he ordered us to seek shelter in the TACC [Tactical Air Command Center] building. This was safer as it was essentially a concrete bunker. At the time quite a few F-5s were up in the air attacking the approaching NVA.”
As the rocket strikes intensified, the tension and uncertainty grew considerably – the situation did not look good. The VNAF major quietly contemplated his next course of action.
He remembers: “From the bunker I could see and hear F-5s taking off. I sat down and asked myself ‘how come we’re still here?’. Suddenly, a flustered pilot appeared with a pickup truck. I asked the guy, ‘What do you need?’ and he replied, ‘I need a pilot to fly a mission.’ I asked him if I could join him, but he answered ‘no’. The mission was considered ‘special’ and since I was not on the flying roster I wasn’t allowed to fly. At that very moment I knew these men were abandoning us while the base was under attack. The main reason I knew something was up was that on a normal day, if you were on duty and standing by in reserve, and for some reason a pilot did not show up, you automatically went as a replacement.”
Maj Chau (back row, far left) was one of the initial cadre of South Vietnamese pilots sent to Williams AFB, Arizona, to convert to the F-5.
South Vietnamese flag patch worn by crews.
Point proven
Chau continues: “I knew it was time to get the hell out of here. I then screamed out, ‘Hey those guys are leaving us!’ as I pointed to the departing F-5s. I jumped on the back of a passing motor scooter and raced out to the flight line. The base was heavily under attack now.”
Arriving at the parked aircraft, some had already been damaged in the ensuing ambush. He recalls: “I looked at all the parked fighters and some had already been hit by shrapnel. I told the guy driving, we will live together or die together, and we started looking for a flyable jet. A few minutes later, I found one and checked the Air Force Form 781A form [maintenance log]. It showed that the jet had a bad radio, but a decent fuel load. It would do.
"The crew chief suddenly showed up. He’d been my very best friend since high school. He told me, ‘Chau don’t worry, I will stay behind, you… you go… leave.’ At the time I had 200,000 Vietnamese đông in cash, so I gave it to him yelling, ‘You can keep the scooter too!’ I shouted to the other pilot, ‘Hey son, I found a good jet.’ In the ensuing chaos a security guard appeared and came up to us with his finger on the trigger of his rifle.
"He asked, ‘Sir can I fly with you?’ I thought carefully as if I say no, I would probably be shot. Luckily another scooter arrived with a pilot on it. I shouted out, ‘Hey lieutenant take this sergeant with you – find [a jet] and get airborne. Head for Thailand.’ So, my other comrade returned and we prepared to leave, but we had no flight suits or helmets. We removed the seat cushion for the F-5, with the life raft in it. The other guy jumped in the ejection seat and I sat right down on top of him – he was my cushion. We didn’t need a helmet because we were not going to eject from the jet. The crew chief started up the APU and got air into the engines.”
A former operations officer with the VNAF’s 542nd FS at Bien Hoa AB, Maj Chau had a distinguished combat career.
This Northrop F-5 shows the variety of ordnance it could carry. The aircraft is currently on display at the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum in Hanoi.
This Northrop F-5 shows the variety of ordnance it could carry. The aircraft is currently on display at the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum in Hanoi.
Two VNAF F-5As line up for take-off for a napalm strike against Việt Cộng positioned just to the north of Saigon on September 13, 1968.
Freedom flight
Maj Chau recalled arriving at his destination – the nearest runway in Thailand: “We took off and headed for Utapao Air Base since I didn’t have enough fuel to reach Clark’s runway. As we approached the air base, I flew over the runway with the wheels down, landing lights on and started to rock my wings since our radio didn’t work. Luckily, I got down safely and parked our jet. Looking across the airfield, I saw a single-seat F-5 pull into the parking spot next to us. It had three guys in the cockpit. All I could think was how in the hell did they do that. Imagine racing down the runway like in a dragster, and trying to pull back on the control stick, and having someone’s boot in the way. Years later at Randolph AFB, I showed my wife the normal tight fit inside an F-5 cockpit in the simulator building and said, ‘imagine that with three pilots’. This was the only time in history an F-5 fighter flew with three people in the ejection seat.
“After getting out of ‘our’ jet, the Thai military police arrived and they told us that we were going to be taken away, and then sent back to Vietnam. Fortunately, some USAF men came over and prevented that from happening. I spoke to other pilots when I joined them and they told me that a two-seat F-5B had left, just like us, with two men in each seat. The jet had crashed into the sea with four high-ranking officers. That was a sad story.”
At Utapao, the South Vietnamese pilots were gathered at the NCO club and, two days later, were flown to Andersen AFB, Guam. Chau was then transferred to Hickam AFB in Hawaii and then to Florida, where he was reunited with family. They had luckily escaped South Vietnam while in the custody of the Defense Attaché Office, which had been charged with the removal of nonessential personnel in March.
In 2015, Chau and his wife returned to Vietnam for the first time since 1975. Many things had changed. However, one thing did catch the intrepid pilot’s eye – an ex-VNAF F-5 sitting outside Independence Palace in Saigon – his former mount.
Northrop F-5A 65-10515 between missions at Bien Hoa AB in August 1968, having been delivered to the air arm in April 1967. Note the BLU-27 napalm containers on the outer pylons.
Maj Chau was featured in Northrop’s product manual in 1974, having logged 2,000 hours in the F-5. He is seen here with Bill Shuck from the manufacturer on October 15, 1974.
Source: https://www.key.aero/article/freedom-fighter
