Roger Ball!
He was the second of two children and born on 25 January 1940 in Shandon Baptist Hospital in Columbia South Carolina. He, in every way, gave the appearance of a normal, healthy, well-developed kid of average height, slender but not skinny. History would show that he was anything but normal.
His name was John Monroe Smith, and “Roger Ball!” is his story—a tale that should be told. It intertwines the true, firsthand accounts and experiences of a fighter pilot with the significant developments in the fighter community and historical events in which Captain John Monroe Smith, USN, call sign “Hawk” was a part. Finally, it speaks to the men who laid their careers and sometimes their very lives on the line for their shipmates and their country.
Hawk was a legend in the fighter community. During his thirty-year career, he forged a reputation as a skilled and lethal aviator in the air-to-air combat arena, a natural tactician, and consummate leader. To many, he was one of the most essential pathfinders in the modernization of the naval air war arts.
He was just a man, but his story, his life adventure, is a high-fidelity history of personal achievements for naval tactical aviation, devotion to a cause, and service to his nation. It was a time during and shortly after the Vietnam conflict that America became ideologically divided. The military was disillusioned with the intrusion of nonwarriors in the White House over the conduct of the war, and tactical aviation of all the services was struggling to catch up to the realities of the war’s hard lessons. It was a time when the Navy needed leaders and tenacious thinkers to set things right again. It was Hawk’s time!
A New Sheriff in Town
At the end of the Tailhook Convention dinner in September 1977, at a time set aside for honoring the Commander in Chief, military heroes, fallen warriors, and POWs, a toast was offered, “To Rear Admiral Fellowes,” One officer raised his glass, “the greatest contributor to the ranks of Naval Reserve Aviation in recruiting history.” “Here! Here!” was heard throughout the dining area.
It was an accurate but highly uncomplimentary statement, and it took a moment to register. It suggested that Fellowes was responsible for driving people out of the active-duty Navy and into the Naval Reserve… and he was!
In the autumn of 1977, Rear Admiral Fellowes came to FIGHTERTOWN USA and relieved Rear Admiral Tissot as Commander of Fighter Wing. As the chief of staff at AIRPAC, Rear Admiral Fellowes held an administrative position under a three-star admiral, Vice Admiral Coogan. In that capacity he was influential but largely toothless. Now, as the Fighter Wing commander, he had real power and real ability to disrupt the daily routine.
Fellowes was not well known for his fondness of many things, but very early during his tour as the chief of staff and later, as the Wing Commander, it was clear that he had cultivated a strong dislike for TOPGUN. According to those who knew him, “The admiral thought NFWS was staffed by a bunch of rabblerousing upstarts and out-of-control junior officers, led by a cavalier cowboy.”
Almost immediately after Rear Admiral Fellowes’s arrival it was clear a new sheriff was in town and although the entire fighter community would suffer the consequences of his reign, TOPGUN was to be the first notch on his pistol grip.
Section Taxiing
Rear Admiral Fellowes immediately issued new policies, procedures, and standing orders. Embedded in a Personal For message to all Miramar squadron skippers were several new standard operating rules for flight operations around the field. One of those rules forbade section or formation taxiing. Section taxiing had been a proven and accepted practice since Miramar had been commissioned, but for reasons known only to Fellowes and some of his staff, it was now verboten.
TOPGUN was at El Centro conducting their annual air-to-air gunnery detachment when the Personal For message was released. The administration department had arranged for a duty driver to deliver all message traffic to the detachment each day, but the Personal For message was not released to the duty messenger, consequently Hawk was unaware of the new rules.
NFWS returned to Miramar from a highly successful gun det. After landing, Hawk taxied his section back to the TOPGUN line. In an incredible streak of bad luck, Admiral Fellowes just happened to be peering out the window when the F-5s taxied past—in section.
Hawk had just dropped off his flight gear when he was alerted to a phone call from Captain Huisman, the admiral’s chief of staff. The discussion was short and terse—he was ordered to report immediately to Captain Huisman.
Hawk hustled over to FITWING spaces, all the time wondering what had caused such an unusual order. Hawk walked into Captain Huisman’s office and noticed that Huisman was bright red from the collar up. Huisman, without the customary greeting offered a commanding officer, immediately handed Hawk a copy of the recent Personal For and barked, “Can’t you follow orders, mister?”
Section taxiing in front of the admiral’s window
By the tenor and volume of the invective and the presence of a Judge Advocate General (JAG) in the office, Hawk realized there was high mass to the question, but he did not know the nature of the charge.
“Yes sir!”
“Then explain to me why you didn’t?”
Hawk knew that the answer to that riddle had to be buried in the Personal For he had just been handed. He skimmed it rapidly looking for clues. Part way through his eye caught something unusual, “… section taxi is prohibited at NAS Miramar.” Well, that’s brand new. We do this all the time; in fact, we section taxied back to the hangar a few …
A General Quarters klaxon sounded in Hawk’s mind. That’s why I’m here!
About the time Hawk finished reading the prohibition on section taxiing, Captain Huisman knocked lightly on the admiral’s door, opened it, and motioned for Hawk to enter.
Hawk had just cleared the hatch when Admiral Fellowes released his first salvo, “Lieutenant Commander Smith, my Personal For specifically forbade aircraft from taxiing in formation aboard Miramar. Don’t you follow direct orders?”
Yep. That’s it. That’s what I did. Whew … what a relief! “Yes sir. Everyone I’m aware of!”
The admiral spoke for some time and Hawk listened carefully. When the admiral was ready for a response, Hawk calmly explained, “Admiral, our entire squadron was at El Centro when your Personal For was released, and though we made arrangements to receive message traffic daily,
We never received this. Surely sir, I would never disobey a direct order. Specifically, Admiral, I would never section taxi aircraft in front of the admiral’s window if I knew it was unauthorized.”
Narrowly avoiding a JAG investigation
The admiral cerebrated this logic for a moment, but he obviously wasn’t in the mood for cogent explanations.
The admiral turned to his chief of staff, “Captain Huisman, contact the communications center. Verify that Navy Fighter Weapons School received a copy of my P-4.”
“Yes sir!”
It took only a moment, but it seemed like an hour before Captain Huisman reentered the office and said, “Sir, a copy was not released to them!”
The admiral pivoted toward Hawk. Hawk half expected an apology or even a “good day.” Instead, he got, “You are dismissed, Lieutenant Commander Smith.”
“Aye, aye sir!” Hawk stepped to the rear, executed an about face, and left the office.
In this very first official meeting between the new Fighter Wing Commander and Lieutenant Commander John Monroe Smith, Hawk had narrowly avoided a JAG investigation. Although he was found blameless, this meeting set the tone of the relationship. In the months that followed that relationship continued to deteriorate. Not surprisingly, however, Hawk had plenty of company.
Low Morale
The squadron skippers at Miramar attended regularly scheduled conferences to discuss an array of issues: maintenance problems; parts support; training schedules; lessons learned; mishaps; and a host of other topics. The main concern of the COs in the fall of 1977 was the new admiral. Tension in the squadrons could be touched. Morale was low and each skipper could point to retention statistics to prove it. To be fair, many of the Navy’s best and brightest people were leaving for more promising futures, not just because morale was low. The admiral’s new policies certainly exacerbated the exodus, however.
Commander Ira Hipper, CO of VF-211, recounted some of the horror stories passed to him from his junior officers. One of his pilots was so fed up with the rules and the backhanded enforcement measures they entered the airfield traffic pattern at 250 knots—seventy-five knots below the maximum airspeed.
Complaints against the new fighter wing commander
Skipper Hipper was just one of many Commanding officers air who aired a list of complaints against the new fighter wing commander. It would seem that almost all of the skippers had some form of Negative experience with Rear Admiral Fellows but what was worse was the whole attitude and policies coming from fighter wing or infecting the morale of the junior officers to the point that nearly all the commands were now understand understaffed and lacking pilots.
Hawk had made his point at the CO’s conference, and it seemed to end any further discussion of such matters. The issue of morale and retention, however, was a growing problem at Miramar. Hawk tried his best to insulate his JOs from the admiral’s collateral damage, but he was not entirely successful. Hawk argued that they should do exactly what was prescribed and required—nothing more—nothing less, and certainly do nothing to draw attention to themselves.
Loss of the Stars
There was high admiration within the CO ranks for Hawk’s resilience and espirit-de-corps. Hawk, the youngest and most junior of all the COs, had been hit harder and more often than anyone in the meeting. There was general agreement that the admiral had it in for Hawk and for TOPGUN, but Hawk, reverently but resolutely, had always held his ground. He explained they needed to set the example in all things and to remain professional, stick to the rules, and avoid inflaming the admiral’s disfavor … any further.
TOPGUN had positions for a dozen aircrew. By the late fall they were down to seven pilots. Each of the officers leaving naval service identified Fighter Wing as a primary factor in their decision to separate. The loss of any more of his staff officers would put even more pressure and more work on those pilots and RIOs who had vowed to stay.
In the end Hawk decided to do something he hoped would retain a few more people. He called Bull Dog to ask for his guidance. Bull Dog suggested a letter which detailed the prevailing conditions at Miramar and the concerns of those personnel leaving naval service. Hawk responded with a letter to the Bureau of Naval Personnel and attached the resignation letters of several pilots leaving the Navy; Hawk addressed low pay, long deployments, reduced flight time, and the impact of Fighter Wing policies. Hawk wrote with conviction, objectiveness, and sincerity. He knew, absolutely, that Admiral Fellowes would eventually discover what Hawk had done, but Hawk was far more driven to do what he could to help keep the fighter community strong than he was furthering his own career. The way things were going, he wasn’t likely to have a career much longer anyway.
Fighter Symposium
It was mid-fall and time for one of the biggest events of the year in the fighter community—the annual TOPGUN sponsored Fighter Symposium. The fighter symposium gathered the Navy and Marine commanding officers and representatives of fighter squadrons from both coasts in a forum to discuss aircraft; weapons systems; doctrine; tactics; maintenance problems; future threats; and world events. It had become so successful that the Air Force fighter and aggressor squadrons also sent representatives.
As his TOPGUN predecessors had done before him, Hawk released a message announcing the symposium. Shortly after Hawk released the announcement, he received yet another call from the chief of staff ’s office, “Stand by for the chief of staff.”
Hawk thought, now what?
Hawk was, at this point, conditioned to anticipate a high-volume blast from the other end of the phone and he was not disappointed this time, “Monroe, by whose authority do you release a message about a Fighter Symposium? The admiral is in charge of the fighter squadrons. He releases messages announcing fighter symposiums, not you!
Now get over here!”
Hawk waited patiently outside the admiral’s office for a time then was ushered in. The admiral formed a series of rhetorical questions and pointed statements which, not surprisingly, sounded very much like Huisman’s.
It was Hawk’s turn to speak, “Well sir, this symposium happened last year and in fact for several years before that. TOPGUN has always developed and hosted the symposium, and the CO of the school has always released the message.”
A resounding success
The historical anecdote was of little value in the grand scheme of the argument and of little interest to the admiral. At the end of the discussion Hawk agreed to recall the message and never do anything stupid in his life again.
Lieutenant Commander Jim “Baskets” Baskerville, the XO of TOPGUN, was directed to assist Fighter Wing staff in rewriting the message for Admiral Fellowes’s release. There were two consequences of that directive. First, after all the editing, little in content had changed—but now it was late. This was, not surprisingly, an embarrassment to Hawk and the entire fighter community, but the second consequence was utterly devastating—to Hawk personally and to TOPGUN professionally. After several days of working with the Fighter Wing staff, Baskets, Hawk’s right-hand man, reached his frustration threshold and submitted his resignation papers on the spot.
Despite all the fallout, the five-day Fighter Symposium was a resounding success. The topics were well presented, the speakers were excellent, and the participation was extraordinary. VX-4, USAF Fighter Weapons Schools, and all Navy and Marine fighter squadron skippers, not deployed, attended. Rear Admiral John S. Disher, the Fighter Wing commander at NAS Oceana, was the senior officer present and one of dozens of fighter leaders who attended the symposium. He happily made the trek from Oceana to Miramar and sat attentively through every presentation during the conference.
The one person glaringly absent, however, was Rear Admiral Fellowes. After all the ridicule and chest beating, Rear Admiral Fellowes never made an appearance. He wasn’t there for introductions, the traditional kick-off comments, attended none of the presentations, and was nowhere to be seen during the closing events. He simply never showed.
The Fighter Spirit
Christmas was fast approaching but the TOPGUN team was in anything but a festive mood.
When his star instructor, Lieutenant Richard “Turtle” Redditt, told Hawk he was leaving, Hawk was crushed.
That was followed a short time later by the resignation of his Executive Officer, LCDR Commander Jim “Baskets” Baskerville, the XO of TOPGUN over an unnecessary confrontation with the fighter wing Chief of Staff.
These were burdens his alone to bear. But all fighter skippers shared the embarrassment the admiral had brought to the Navy fighter community by a series of flight restrictions, ridiculous policy decisions, and humiliating actions which caused the entire west coast fighter community to resemble the buffoon in the front office—RADM Fellowes.
The environment at FIGHTERTOWN USA was definitely souring. The admiral’s staff seemed to make it their mission to punish everyone for the smallest infraction. Report chits and course rule violations were handed out like Mardi-Gras trinkets and the general welfare and morale of the personnel assigned to Miramar seemed to be in a death spiral. Aircrew were leaving the Navy for
positions offering more money, more fun, and an opportunity to regain a small sliver of self-respect.
In the past, the Navy could never compete with the big companies over income and family stability, but no company offered more camaraderie, more opportunity for accomplishment, or more fun. Now, it was no longer fun.
Orders to Black Lions
The command selection board met in the fall. Hawk was more than midway through his command tour at TOPGUN and was now in a group being considered for command of a fleet outfit—a fighter squadron. He knew the competition would be stiff. There were many superb naval officers in his year group and only a handful of fighter commands available.
A short time after CNO approved the results, they were released in an all Navy bulletin. Hawk had been selected for another command, an F-14 squadron based at Miramar. According to the slate, he would be taking the XO position of VF-213 Black Lions at Miramar in May 1978. This was that one bright ray of light that trumped all the turmoil and humiliation he had been subjected to for the last several months.
Hawk was jubilant and the news couldn’t have come at a better time. Now he knew both where he was going and when, but time was short. He had only a few months left and much to accomplish.
The two objectives within TOPGUN’s primary mission which required their most immediate and undivided attention was overhauling fighter tactics and extending training to fleet squadrons. This was a full-time endeavor and a spectacular challenge in itself. Now, however, Hawk was faced with a new and unexpected complication. He found himself embroiled in a continuous rearguard action defending his command, his people, and himself against Fighter Wing’s assaults.
This was a sideshow, an annoying distraction which sucked up resources and time and weighed heavily on Hawk’s people. It was the mission, always the mission, that held highest priority, and Hawk was resolute in focusing on that alone—if he could.
Photo credit: U.S. Navy
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