The MiG that flew itself to the West

On the 4th of July 1989, a strange incident would occur in Europe. Over the course of an hour, various air forces would be put on high alert as a Soviet MIG-23 flew across central Europe. What wasn’t known, until after the aircraft had been intercepted and visually identified, was that this MiG-23 was on a pilotless sortie of its own volition.

BACKGROUND

At the end of the 1980s, the Soviet Union was nowhere near as powerful as it once was. Many, it seemed, were anticipating the fall of the iron curtain while much of the early 1980s rhetoric about nuclear war was wearing thin. Nevertheless, both East and West maintained a level of cold-war alertness.

It was July 4th - when many American airmen stationed in Europe were celebrating their holiday. Across the wall in Poland, Colonel Nikolai Skuridin was preparing his MiG-23M for a flight from Bagicz Airbase. His aircraft had been loaded up with full fuel tanks, and 200 rounds of canon ammunition.

Skruidin pushed his aircraft into afterburner, with wings extended into take-off sweep angle. Just after taking off, and with the gear up, at 500 feet, the afterburner suddenly cut out. The colonel looked in his mirrors and saw that the aircraft was trailing smoke. It then began to descend. It seemed like the single engine MiG had suffered an engine failure. Without much altitude, the colonel decided his best option was to eject while he still had a chance.

After ejecting, his MiG - rather than crash into the ground - began to pitch back up and settle into a slow climbing cruise of 170 knots. This was likely due to the pilot and heavy ejection seat being removed, shifting the centre of gravity back slightly. The aircraft continued southwest, slowly climbing until it reached an altitude of 35000 feet. The aircraft first crossed into East German airspace, and then crossed into west Germany.

Meanwhile at Soesterberg airbase in the Netherlands, Captains JD Martin and Bill “Turf” Murphy of the 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron USAF were celebrating their July 4th. The base - largely staffed by Americans - was not expecting much activity during the day. In fact, most Americans on the base had set up games and rides at the infield between the runway and squadron hangers.

JD and Turf were suddenly scrambled to their aircraft. It was not until their engines were running that they received orders from NIGHTCLUB - the callsign for the Dutch Wing Operations Center - that they had an Alpha scramble, or intercept on their hands. Taking off fifteen seconds apart, the two departed the airbase - with those at the infield thinking this was part of an air display for July 4th.

The F-15s were vectored to intercept the target, but this proved more difficult than it should have been. Turf recalls that unintentional jamming was occurring, as four different ground controllers believed they were controlling the F-15s, and none of them were talking to each other. First, they were told the MiG was bearing 060 for 100 miles, at what was called the ‘Beak’, a border area between east and west Germany. They sped up to supersonic speeds at 35000 feet. Then a second ground controller told them the aircraft was bearing 130 degrees. Turning in that direction, their radar picked up a contact at just 17nm. Rapidly slowing down and circling around to trail the aircraft at 2nm.

With relentless jamming, Turf recalls that JD had finally had enough, told all other GCIs to ‘shut up’, and that the pair would only talk to the Dutch ground controller from now on. Upon closer inspection, JD reported that the aircraft was a Flogger. Turf recalls that the ground controllers repeatedly asked for revivification of the target a dozen times, seemingly not believing that a Soviet interceptor would be sent into western airspace. Then, with Turf trailing a mile behind, with a seeker locked on the aircraft, JD moved up alongside the MIG. Those on the ground said to instruct the pilot to land at an airbase that was practically below them.

JD then saw that the aircraft had no canopy, no ejection seat, and no pilot. Turf recalls that those on the ground did not believe them, with JD repeating what he saw 20 times before they finally went quiet.

By this time the aircraft was in Dutch airspace, looking like it was heading towards England. In the UK, a RAF Phantom from 56 Squadron was sent to the coast to intercept just in case. Meanwhile, Turf recalled that the aircraft appeared to be at its service ceiling for its thrust setting, only slightly climbing as its fuel was slowly consumed.

As the aircraft came over the North Sea, the green light would be given to shoot it down. However, this did not happen. As JD and Turf followed the aircraft - now at 39500 feet - they saw a puff of smoke from its engine, followed by a trail of vapour. It had run out of fuel and was now banking to its left ever so slightly as it began a slow descent. Still over land, this complicated things.

While there is not a lot of information, public statements suggest that communications between the West and the Soviets was delayed. The Soviets were slow to reveal whether the aircraft was carrying any nuclear or chemical ordnances that would contaminate a crash site, as the aircraft was now flying over a densely populated region of Europe. The French Air Force were also put on alert.

Those on the ground said that it would be up to the pilots to decide on whether they shoot the aircraft down, or let it crash; it would be whatever they believed would result in less damage on the ground. With a decent amount of time, the two began discussing the situation, concluding that the aircraft - which was now over Belgium - may hit the city of Lille on the French border. It may have been better to shoot it down, they thought, because it may cause it to fall short of the city. However, any mistake could result in hundreds of pieces of metal falling across a populated area.

Looking at their speed, altitude - which was now 15000 feet - and the vertical velocity indicator, they realised that the aircraft was going to fall slightly short of the city, into farmland. With bad radio reception, Turf decided to stay at 6000 feet to relay to JD, who flew down to watch the crash. He recalls that all the way until it hit the ground, the Flogger remained in perfect wheels up landing attitude. It struck a field, went across a small empty road, and into another property, hitting a house. With no fuel, there was no real explosion, but still much debris. The pair flew around on the scene for the next 15 minutes, until they reached bingo fuel at 10:45.

It was soon revealed that the only fatality was 19-year-old Wim Delaere, an informatics student who had just finished his uni exams. He was sleeping alone in the house that was hit, after celebrating the end of exams. His parents and brother had not been home.

Over the following day, the Belgian government protested that the Soviet Union had not notified anyone about the stray aircraft, and over the hour or so long ordeal, communications with the Soviet Union were unacceptably slow.

With news of the crash becoming wide-spread the following day, Colonel Skurigin publicly apologised for what had happened, saying “If I could have foreseen such tragic consequences to this pilotless flight, I would have stayed in the plane to the end.”