Mike[_7_]
September 9th 06, 02:07 AM
Navy Times September 11, 2006
More than a wingman: Top Gun founder was a pioneer
By Robert F. Dorr
When retired Capt. Frank W. Ault died Aug. 20 in Arlington, Va., the
Navy lost a pioneer who changed the way we operate in air and space.
The nation lost a hero.
Today, it's easy to forget how much Ault contributed to the Cold War,
the Vietnam War and our world of today.
He helped put the first atomic bombers on carriers in the 1950s, when
many anticipated a nuclear war with the Soviet Union.
When the Navy (and Air Force) performed poorly in air combat over North
Vietnam, his study of air combat, the Ault Report, led to hundreds of
changes, including creation of the Navy's fighter weapons school,
Topgun - which became two words when Hollywood gave us the 1986 Tom
Cruise blockbuster "Top Gun."
Ault achieved so much in atomic weapons, aviation and space that it
would be easy, too, to forget that he was a gregarious figure of wit
and charm who fished and hunted, played the piano and organ, and was a
captivating storyteller.
"He could have made his living as a master of ceremonies," said his
longtime friend, retired Rear Adm. Edward "Whitey" Feightner, in an
interview.
A 1942 Naval Academy graduate, Ault survived the sinking of the cruiser
Astoria during the Battle of Savo Island in the South Pacific in 1942.
He served on a second cruiser during the invasion of North Africa later
that year.
Ault became an aviator in 1945. He was one of the first officers at the
nuclear weapons school in Albuquerque, N.M. He was a bomber pilot with
Composite Squadron 5, the Navy's first atomic bomb delivery squadron.
As an author on naval topics, I met Ault many years later to ask about
one of those bombers, the corpulent AJ Savage, which had two propeller
engines hanging on the wings and a jet engine in the tail - "two
turning and one burning," as sailors said. But I regret that I never
got to talk to this articulate leader at length about the AJ.
He helped shape the Navy's plans to launch a bigger bomber, the P2V
Neptune, from carriers on one-way nuclear missions to Soviet targets.
Before the U.S. launched its first satellite or astronaut, Ault
directed Navy space research and authored the service's first space
program in 1957. Among space duties in the 1950s, he was the first
program manager of the Navy's navigation satellite program, a
predecessor of the Global Positioning System that has altered our
world.
A biography circulated by fellow aviators - while Ault's death
remains shamefully ignored by the mainstream media - touches on his
subsequent experiences.
"Frank never got far from the cockpit," wrote retired Capt. Bill
Knutson. "He served in five [attack] squadrons." He commanded a
squadron, an air group, a transport ship, and the aircraft carrier
Coral Sea during Vietnam from 1966 to 1967.
In the two years that followed, Ault scoured the combat zone conducting
the air weapons study that became the Ault Report of 1968. He learned
that Americans were losing dogfights because they hadn't learned to
use air-to-air missiles properly. He made recommendations that changed
how fighters engage each other. As he wrote in a document: "The
report diagnosed fighter systems performance in Vietnam and is credited
with raising our air combat kill ratio in Vietnam from 2.5 to 1 to over
12.5 to 1."
Ault retired in March 1971, without the flag rank he deserved. He is
second in four generations of airmen: His father was a World War I Army
pilot. His son Jon and grandson Jonathan were both naval aviators.
On Aug. 28, Feightner gave me a tour of Ault's Arlington office.
There, Ault worked for the American Retirees Association. He fought the
Uniformed Services Former Spouses' Protection Act. He co-wrote the
book "Divorce and the Military."
But there was so much more in the office - a signed portrait of
Charlton Heston highlighting the actor's presidency of, and Ault's
support for, the National Rifle Association; a portrait of John Wayne,
whom Ault knew and admired; "master angler" certificates from
overseas fishing jaunts; photos taken during a pheasant hunt.
Frank Ault changed air combat forever, but he had time for more. He had
time for life.
More than a wingman: Top Gun founder was a pioneer
By Robert F. Dorr
When retired Capt. Frank W. Ault died Aug. 20 in Arlington, Va., the
Navy lost a pioneer who changed the way we operate in air and space.
The nation lost a hero.
Today, it's easy to forget how much Ault contributed to the Cold War,
the Vietnam War and our world of today.
He helped put the first atomic bombers on carriers in the 1950s, when
many anticipated a nuclear war with the Soviet Union.
When the Navy (and Air Force) performed poorly in air combat over North
Vietnam, his study of air combat, the Ault Report, led to hundreds of
changes, including creation of the Navy's fighter weapons school,
Topgun - which became two words when Hollywood gave us the 1986 Tom
Cruise blockbuster "Top Gun."
Ault achieved so much in atomic weapons, aviation and space that it
would be easy, too, to forget that he was a gregarious figure of wit
and charm who fished and hunted, played the piano and organ, and was a
captivating storyteller.
"He could have made his living as a master of ceremonies," said his
longtime friend, retired Rear Adm. Edward "Whitey" Feightner, in an
interview.
A 1942 Naval Academy graduate, Ault survived the sinking of the cruiser
Astoria during the Battle of Savo Island in the South Pacific in 1942.
He served on a second cruiser during the invasion of North Africa later
that year.
Ault became an aviator in 1945. He was one of the first officers at the
nuclear weapons school in Albuquerque, N.M. He was a bomber pilot with
Composite Squadron 5, the Navy's first atomic bomb delivery squadron.
As an author on naval topics, I met Ault many years later to ask about
one of those bombers, the corpulent AJ Savage, which had two propeller
engines hanging on the wings and a jet engine in the tail - "two
turning and one burning," as sailors said. But I regret that I never
got to talk to this articulate leader at length about the AJ.
He helped shape the Navy's plans to launch a bigger bomber, the P2V
Neptune, from carriers on one-way nuclear missions to Soviet targets.
Before the U.S. launched its first satellite or astronaut, Ault
directed Navy space research and authored the service's first space
program in 1957. Among space duties in the 1950s, he was the first
program manager of the Navy's navigation satellite program, a
predecessor of the Global Positioning System that has altered our
world.
A biography circulated by fellow aviators - while Ault's death
remains shamefully ignored by the mainstream media - touches on his
subsequent experiences.
"Frank never got far from the cockpit," wrote retired Capt. Bill
Knutson. "He served in five [attack] squadrons." He commanded a
squadron, an air group, a transport ship, and the aircraft carrier
Coral Sea during Vietnam from 1966 to 1967.
In the two years that followed, Ault scoured the combat zone conducting
the air weapons study that became the Ault Report of 1968. He learned
that Americans were losing dogfights because they hadn't learned to
use air-to-air missiles properly. He made recommendations that changed
how fighters engage each other. As he wrote in a document: "The
report diagnosed fighter systems performance in Vietnam and is credited
with raising our air combat kill ratio in Vietnam from 2.5 to 1 to over
12.5 to 1."
Ault retired in March 1971, without the flag rank he deserved. He is
second in four generations of airmen: His father was a World War I Army
pilot. His son Jon and grandson Jonathan were both naval aviators.
On Aug. 28, Feightner gave me a tour of Ault's Arlington office.
There, Ault worked for the American Retirees Association. He fought the
Uniformed Services Former Spouses' Protection Act. He co-wrote the
book "Divorce and the Military."
But there was so much more in the office - a signed portrait of
Charlton Heston highlighting the actor's presidency of, and Ault's
support for, the National Rifle Association; a portrait of John Wayne,
whom Ault knew and admired; "master angler" certificates from
overseas fishing jaunts; photos taken during a pheasant hunt.
Frank Ault changed air combat forever, but he had time for more. He had
time for life.