Chapter 6
THE GREAT HUNT FOR RADARS
Introduction
NATO wanted Montenegro to remain “neutral.” Yugoslav forces normally did not use Montenegrin territory for their operations, and our ROEs reflected that Serbian discretion by normally precluding attacks in that territory. Early in the conflict however, the Serbs positioned a long-range acquisition radar on a narrow peninsula on the Montenegrin coast. From that position the radar provided the Serbians important intelligence as it tracked all NATO aircraft flying through the southern Adriatic and Albanian airspace. Serbia’s action forced NATO to make an exception to its normal ROEs and directed that the radar be eliminated. Our experiences while we hunted for that single radar on the coast of Montenegro were typical of both our frustrations and our successes during the Hog’s participation in Allied Force.
We could not determine whether the Serbs kept the same radar, or even the same type of radar, at that strategic coastal location. At different times it appeared to be a Flat Face (Soviet-built) radar, and at other times it exhibited the characteristics of a Giraffe (Swedish-made) radar. It was clear, however, that the CAOC wanted to remove that Serb capability (no matter what kind or how many radars) to track NATO strike packages and KEZ- bound aircraft.
The Serbs weren’t stupid enough to operate their radar continuously and expose it to a classic NATO interdiction attack. Rather, they emitted unpredictably—just long enough to get the information they needed—and then relocated their equipment to a different residential or wooded area near the Montenegrin coast. Therefore, the aircraft that got the opportunity to kill the radar was simply the aircraft that happened to be in the area at the time the radar was detected.
The CAOC, we believed, had decided that our A-10s at Gioia del Colle were the preferred weapon system to kill the radar. We would be able spend more time in the target area, had the best chance of finding the radar, and had a wide range of weaponry with which we could engage it. The radar’s location in Montenegro made identifying the target essential and minimizing collateral damage even more critical. The CAOC’s choice of the Hog’s low-tech binoculars reflected the earlier success that Coke, our operations officer, and others had during Desert Storm knocking out Flat Face radars while they hunted for Scuds in Iraq.
The good news was that we were the privileged few to be allowed to go after this elusive and high-priority prey. The bad news was that it was both elusive and high priority. It was the focus of the CAOC’s attention, and that meant we would fly many frustrating sorties without finding it. Some of our pilots started daydreaming about being the lucky one to see the radar in his binos, move it to his gunsight, and hammer down on the trigger.
Fighter pilots are naturally aggressive and generally avoid looking for the definitive answer to an ambiguous rule that would remove all ambiguity—and their flexibility. Thus, most fighter pilots worth their salt have done something in the course of their careers that they would rather not have to explain to their commanders. These natural tendencies, coupled with our pilots’ desire to succeed in the difficult hunt for the Flat Face and Giraffe radars, almost resulted in a tactical victory and a strategic disaster.
I began my tour as squadron supervisor at 1800 on the evening of 4 May and would be on duty until 0600 the next morning. The poor weather over Serbia precluded the launch of our normal interdiction strike packages. The CAOC planners, however, had checked with their weather forecasters and believed that the cloud layers over the Adriatic Sea and the Montenegrin coast would be scattered enough for our crews to draw a bead on the Flat Face radar.
Capt Edward D. “Sped” Sommers was a highly qualified weapons-school instructor, generously sent from Nellis to participate in a strategic planning cell headed by Col Daniel “Doc” Zoerb. He also helped our unit representatives at the CAOC explain the finer points of A-10 employment to the CAOC leadership. Sped called from the CAOC to ask if our two CSAR (ground- and airborne-alert) two-ships could be retasked from covering strike packages to a radar-hunting mission. “Yes,” I replied. Although in my enthusiasm I may have said something more colorful.
I gathered the four pilots together and told them of their new tasking. Capt Stu Stuewe, who was the highest qualified of the four pilots and had been scheduled as Sandy 1 that night, volunteered to lead the mission.
The weather was the biggest unknown. The forecast for the ceiling on the Adriatic changed several times during the night, but the one I believed that we all had settled on was broken at 4,000 feet. “Broken” denotes at least five-eighths cloud cover—unless the clouds are very thin, it is practically impossible to find and attack a target from above. To attack the Flat Face in that weather meant having to descend through and attack from below the 4,000-foot broken cloud deck. Doing so would directly conflict with our altitude ROE. General Short’s exact words on ROEs were seared into my brain, and his voice was still ringing in my ears from my trip to Tirana three days before. Never in my life had my understanding of my superiors’ direction been so lucid. Our current ROEs limited our altitude to no lower than 5,000 feet to identify a target and to no lower than 8,000 feet during our attacks.
The following is an example of what Clausewitz meant by “fog and friction.” Worried about the weather, Sped, Stu, and I had all independently checked it several times during the two hours from the start of mission planning to the pilots stepping to their aircraft. It was several days later before I was able to piece together each of our differing perceptions of the weather and the ROEs that applied to that night’s hunt for the Flat Face radar. I was convinced that the definitive forecast was for a 4,000-foot broken ceiling, which would require the CAOC’s approval to deviate below the ROE-established minimums. I told Sped, “Confirm for me that we have been cleared to go below the weather.” On the other hand, Sped, who was getting his weather information at the CAOC, was convinced that the ceiling was forecasted for 8,500 feet and saw no conflict staying within the current ROE and operating “below the weather to either identify or attack the radar.” Stu, the flight lead, had received several projected ceilings during the planning process from our Gioia del Colle forecaster and stepped with the conviction that the forecasted ceiling was at 2,000 feet. So when I told him, “Go below the weather,” he believed that meant he was cleared to operate below 2,000 feet.
There is one recollection on which Stu and I differ. I had required Stu to brief the flight’s attack plan to me in detail since I was clearing my guys to descend to low altitude at night, over water, and in potentially cloudy weather. Their plan called for a first pass using Mavericks and, if unsuccessful, a second pass at 2,000 feet for a level CBU attack that Sped and Stu had worked out over the phone. I approved the plan, with an additional restriction of maintaining at least 2,000 feet above the water since three of the pilots in the flight had not yet completed training at night below that altitude. If they encountered weather at 2,000 feet or below, they were to abort the mission and return home. Stu did not recall my 2,000-foot restriction and therefore interpreted my clearance to “go below the weather” as clearance to descend to any tactically safe altitude. I’ll leave the details of the mission to the stories in the chapter, but the unsuccessful attacks on this night occurred below 2,000 feet.
When the four intrepid aviators returned from their unsuccessful sortie, they identified the weather as the reason for their lack of success. They did not mention altitudes—there was no reason to mention them since they had adhered to the altitude ROE as they understood it. “Flat Face fever” hit the squadron. All of the pilots eagerly listened to tales about that night’s mission and hoped they might have a shot at the radar. A couple of days later, each of the same four pilots found himself leading an element when Stu spotted the infamous radar from medium
