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Writer's pictureBob Ford

How a K-State watering hole in Aggieville saved a downed airman's life

Roger Locher was a farm boy from Sabetha, Kansas.

 

He joined the Air Force in 1969 and became a decorated navigator/weapons specialist officer. Roger was a “backseater” in the most sophisticated fighter of the day, the F4-D. Having achieved acclaim in the ranks after re-upping for his third tour in Vietnam, ending that tour with 407 career missions, Locher became one of the most prolific MIG killers of the war.

 



Captain Patty Schnieder was an Intelligence Officer working alongside Locher at Udorn Air Force Base in Thailand. Schnieder and Locher had an on again, off again relationship but, “there was something there,” Kevin Drewelow, the Director of the Combat Air Museum in Topeka says with a wry grin.

 

On May 10, 1972, Locher and his pilot Major Roger Lodge, part of the 555th, “Triple Nickel” squadron, took off with three other F4s as part of Operation Linebacker. U.S. political and military leadership had decided carpet bombing North Vietnam mostly around Hanoi, Haiphong and assorted military targets would slow the Viet Cong from getting war materials to their troops in the South and force the enemy back to the stalled peace talks in Paris.


B-52s unloaded an unprecedented 20,000 tons of ordnance during the action, killing at least 1,500 civilians.


Operation Linebacker would end up being the last and largest bombing campaign of the war.


The bombers needed support. F4s and other fighters would accompany them on every sortie but through the six months Operation, 134 allied aircraft were lost, MIGs seemed to be everywhere.

 

On May 10th, Lodge and Locher were in a dog fight. They had downed one MIG-19 that day when wham, “it felt like you were sitting at a stop sign and someone rear ended you,” Locher would later say. They had been hit by a missile, chunks of the plane were blown away, quickly losing control, as fire engulfed parts of the cockpit. Now inverted and falling, Lodge immediately ordered Locher to eject; he did, as the fire consumed the backseaters cabin. Lodge, however, didn’t get out, going down with his plane in a fireball.

 

In the chaos of air combat, other U.S. pilots on the scene saw the fighter jet go down but did not see Locher eject. MIG pilots did; they set up to strafe Locher as he parachuted to earth. Then for some reason backed off, maybe seeing him as a valuable prize to capture and interrogate once on the ground.

 

Locher landed knowing he was on his own, only 65 miles from Hanoi deep in enemy territory. He could not use his radio because the transmission would no doubt be intercepted by the Viet Cong. The captain would have to rely on his survival training.

 

You are given two code words at the start of each mission, one to identify yourself that you are fine and the other identifying yourself if you were compromised, captured with a gun to your head.

 

The Viet Cong had become adept at luring rescue helicopters into kill zones, the chopper pilot thinking they were about to air lift a downed airman to safety, but instead...

 

Moving at night, evading farmers, children and soldiers, Locher needed to get to a high clearing, then dare to make radio contact with a passing friendly plane, in the hopes of being heard.

 

The jungle terrain was impossible. He could only make a mile a day. After weeks with nothing edible from the jungle because it was too early in the growing season, Locher's health and stamina started to fade.

 

He was close to his objective and knew he had to take the risk and attempt radio contact with the next plane he heard; it was an F4. Making connections, the pilot was skeptical, code names expired. Is this a trap for the rescuers or is it truly the MIA comrade known by all? Several pilots and crewmen had served at Ft. Riley, close to Manhattan, Kansas, as the F4 pilot and Locher did. The pilot had a thought, and blurted out, “What’s Kite’s?” Locher paused, then got it, “It's a bar in Aggieville where I drink beer!” “That’s it. He’s our boy, let’s go get him!”


Back at Udorn, word spread quickly. A rescue mission with a Jolly Green “heavy lift” helicopter was needed for the extraction. Four Star Air Force General John Vogt, “put the Vietnam War on hold for a day,” Kevin proudly proclaimed. Utilizing 119 different aircrafts for the mission, which if successful would be the deepest rescue ever made in North Vietnam.

 

They got him. He had been in the jungle for 23 days and lost 40 pounds. Roger would later state, “The training of escape and evading techniques saved my life.” Once aboard, the base became jubilant, throngs came out to greet the helicopter and Locher. When Roger exited the chopper, Voyt was there to greet him but so was Patty. She shoved the general aside, hugged her Roger then climbed in the back of the ambulance for a ride to the hospital not listening to the doctors and general asking her to get out. She would have none of it!

 

They have been married for 50-plus years and still live just outside Sabetha. Stories and exhibits like this are all over the Combat Air Museum in Topeka.

 

If you enjoy crawling around vintage military aircraft and hearing tales about air wars, fighter jets and the dedicated people behind them, this museum is for you. The devoted people preserving this important part of American history are veterans who are following their call.

 

After a day with aircraft, drive to Manhattan, have a beer at Kite’s. I did. Roger's story is on the wall, salute him, and the other brave men and women who served in the defense of our country. Cheers!

 

You can find more of Bob’s work including his Bob Ford’s History, Mystery and Lore podcast, on his website, bobfordshistory.com, Also check out his YouTube videos under Bob Ford’s History. All podcasts are also available on most streaming services. To comment or suggest other topics, contact Bob at robertmford@aol.com.

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