That zone five afterburner you heard earlier this month was Commander Joseph Frank Satrapa, USN (Ret) departing the pattern at age 78. And if you don’t recognize the name, well, strap in tight, turn up the oxygen to 100 percent, and select Guns…
First, you should know that almost nobody called him “Joe.” He was “Hoser” to at least two generations of naval aviators, and the reasons will soon be obvious.
Anyway: Hoser was appointed to the U.S. Naval Academy from California and graduated in 1964. It was a point of perverse pride that he finished 926th among 927.
Not that it mattered. Hoser was uninterested in academics and Military Courtesy. He was massively, completely, interested in flying, particularly flying fighters.
He got his wish.
The thing is: for all his contempt for conventional naval bearing, Hoser was a natural-born, charismatic, by-gawd Leader. Nobody taught him that—he carried it with him like his gravelly Yosemite Sam voice.
Upon receiving his wings of gold, Hoser got what he most wanted: F-8 Crusaders. In the mid 1960s the ‘sader was a cult machine: the navy’s first supersonic aircraft, record-setting speedster (John Glenn flew one coast to coast in barely three hours) and fearsome dogfighter. It was a melding of man and machine. Hoser became an acknowledged master of fighter tactics and gunnery, and showed early talent for imparting his skill to others.
Hoser lived and breathed aerial gunnery. He cadged extra flights whenever possible, developing an uncanny skill at shooting holes in towed banners. On his first F-8 gunnery flight he enthusiastically “hosed” all his 20mm ammunition at the target in one pass. A callsign was born.
In 1967 Hoser deployed to war with a detachment of the VF-111 Sundowners (of honored memory) aboard USS Intrepid. One of his squadronmates, Tony Nargi, downed a North Vietnamese MiG on the next cruise, and the fact that Hoser never scored had absolutely nothing to do with him. It’s just that the MiGs seldom came out to play.
Hoser had the eminently bribable parachute riggers modify his torso harness to accept his personal arsenal: a Colt .357 magnum with 42 rounds of hollow-point ammo, a Smith & Wesson five-shot revolver with 20 rounds of tracer and hardball; a throwing knife; and two hand grenades. (He traded some marines a couple of flight jackets for the latter.) Plus an extra battery for his survival radio. As Hoser explained, "Just because you're on the ground doesn't mean the fight's over. You just change tactics."
Hoser had the eminently bribable parachute riggers modify his torso harness to accept his personal arsenal: a Colt .357 magnum with 42 rounds of hollow-point ammo, a Smith & Wesson five-shot revolver with 20 rounds of tracer and hardball; a throwing knife; and two hand grenades. (He traded some marines a couple of flight jackets for the latter.) Plus an extra battery for his survival radio. As Hoser explained, "Just because you're on the ground doesn't mean the fight's over. You just change tactics."
Then the roof collapsed. Hoser was one of a handful of experienced aviators pulled out of their beloved Crusaders into other aircraft to spread the knowledge. To say that Hoser went reluctantly would understate the situation—he went with the proverbial doorknob in each hand and skid marks on the deck.
However, comma: he got the next best thing. North American’s sleek, super-fast RA-5C Vigilante was Navy Air’s primo reconnaissance aircraft. A “Viggie” looked like it was doing 400 knots sitting in the chocks. The other thing that Viggies shared with Crusaders was an appalling safety record: they seemed to vie with one another for the highest accident rate in carrier aviation.
Flying from USS America in 1972, Hoser became a recce force to be reckoned with. Partnered with Lt(jg) Bob Rinder, as his recon navigator, Hoser recalled, “Seems like the gomers usually shot two or three thousand feet behind us ‘cause we were going at the speed of heat. How fast is that? Well, that’s classified…except it’s really cookin’! I got hit five times over the beach in F-8s—one aircraft was a ‘strike’ that couldn’t be repaired. Only got a single hit in an RA-5C down at Chul Lai.”
That October Hoser and Rinder diverted from a Hanoi recon mission to look at Thanh Hoa Bridge, the most notorious target in Southeast Asia. After the film was developed, there was proof—the “Dragon’s Jaw” was down in the river. The A-7 Corsair IIs of Attack Squadron 82 had done the deed.
At war’s end Hoser was a dead-end lieutenant commander in a navy determined to “rightsize.” He was on the way out when he happened to meet a well-connected Navy Reserve officer named John Lehman. As in, future Secretary of the Navy John Lehman. According to legend, Satrapa called one night and there was that distinctive voice in the Lehman telephone: “SecNav? Hoser. I wanna come back.”
And he did, in a deal that’s been compared to the NFL draft. With a very few other essential but unpromotable talents (including legendary landing signal officer John “Bug” Roach), Hoser returned to the fold, back in fighters where he belonged. He transitioned to F-4 Phantoms but hit his stride with the next-generation F-14 Tomcat.
Hoser’s wealth of skill and knowledge, coupled with his inspirational teaching style, produced results. (“Never forget—you’re here to kill the enemy.”) But it wasn’t just tactics and gunnery—Hoser was a master of deceit. When he humiliated an adversary pilot (with film showing Hoser’s sight on the opponent’s cockpit) he was accused of cheating. To which Hoser famously replied, “Credibility is down. Kill ratio is up!”
While at NAS Oceana, Virginia, Hoser built a single-shot 20mm rifle originally with home-made ammunition that shot 350 yards or more. But later his invention blew up, severing his right thumb and index finger. Now, you cannot fly “fighterjets” without a starboard thumb because it controls buttons and switches on the stick. Not to worry: Hoser convinced a surgeon to remove his starboard big toe and place it on Hoser’s hand. The doc worked his wonders, and viola! Hoser was back—as “Toeser.”
The Hoser Legend continued growing. The stories are legion, and regardless of how outrageous, probably most are true. Here’s a sampling:
Allegedly Hoser went fishing in California with hand grenades, aka “DuPont spinners.” Caught in the act, reputedly Hoser shoved a grenade in the game warden’s hand, pulled the pin, and asked (non-rhetorically) “You gonna fish or what?” More accurately, he used direct-contact “bang sticks” on grouper, successfully.
Another F-8 legend, the late Commander John Nichols, recalled another Hoser shooting tale. During a Fallon, Nevada, gunnery detachment they were billeted in BOQ rooms with adjoining head. Pirate heard something in there pretty dang early and opened the door--and nearly gagged. Hoser had been out bird hunting and used the sink to clean the products of his shotgun excursion.
Another F-8 legend, the late Commander John Nichols, recalled another Hoser shooting tale. During a Fallon, Nevada, gunnery detachment they were billeted in BOQ rooms with adjoining head. Pirate heard something in there pretty dang early and opened the door--and nearly gagged. Hoser had been out bird hunting and used the sink to clean the products of his shotgun excursion.
Then there’s the story of how Hoser grabbed a five-foot water moccasin threatening a friend’s two children.
Upon retiring from the navy, Hoser sought the next best thing and found it in his native California. Flying modified Grumman S-2 antisubmarine planes, he reveled in delivering retardant upon forest fires.
Long before his final retirement, the living legend treated himself to his own tombstone. “Here rests the fighter pilot Hoser. I lived life as I wanted, simple, honest, brave
And
I never landed gear up!”
Joseph “Hoser” Satrapa—a born warrior. His kind has been bred out of the system, never to return.
