Uncovering the Truth: A New Rebuttal to the Baron 52 Mystery

For years, the fate of the Baron 52 crew—an EC-47Q electronic warfare aircraft shot down over southern Laos on February 4-5, 1973—has haunted those of us seeking answers about America’s missing servicemen. Four of the eight crew members vanished in the early morning hours of February 5, 1973, just a week after the Paris Peace Accords promised an end to the Vietnam War’s chaos. Officially, the story ends with a fiery crash and no survivors, cemented by a 1993 excavation and Robert J. Destatte’s 1996 analysis for the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency. Destatte claimed a PAVN radio intercept from February 5, mentioning “four pirates” held by Group 210, referred to Lao irregulars, not our airmen. Case closed, right?

Not so fast.

Today, I’m excited to share with you a fresh rebuttal that challenges Destatte’s conclusions head-on. With the help of some sharp minds and newly pieced-together evidence, we’re peeling back layers of this mystery to argue that those “four pirates” were likely survivors from Baron 52—our guys, captured and spirited away. Here’s the scoop.

The Intercept: A Clue Destatte Misread

On February 5, 1973, just 5.5 hours after Baron 52 went down, a RC-135 Combat Apple aircraft picked up a PAVN transmission: “Presently Group 210 has four pirates, they are going to the control of Mr. Van.” A rushed initial translation called them “four pilots” held by Group 217, but the later, more reliable retranslation from the audio recording of the radio transmission pinned it to Group 210. Destatte latched onto “pirates,” claiming it meant Lao bandits (“phi”) along Route 8, dismissing any link to Americans. He even leaned on the shaky Group 217 version to fit his theory, ignoring its “pilots” reference—odd, since Lao irregulars don’t fly planes. But WAIT! Just a few short years prior to these 1996 DeStatte memorandums, during the Senate Select hearings on POW/MIAs, DeStatte testified under oath it was ARVN “friend of a friend” helicopter crews downed somewhere south of the DMZ. Guess that was still too close to Baron 52’s crash site just over the border in southern Laos! 

Here’s where it gets interesting. My research identifies “Mr. Van” as Lt. Col. Luong Khanh Van, a political officer with the 377th Air Defense Division under the 471st Regional Command. CIA docs show the 210th AAA Regiment, part of the 377th, was in southern Laos near the crash site—not Vinh, as Destatte assumed. As a political officer, Van handled high-value prisoners for intelligence interrogation. Four Lao bandits wouldn’t rate that; four crew members from an electronic warfare plane? That’s a goldmine. The intercept’s urgency—“requesting orders” or “difficulties moving”—screams strategic captives, not local riffraff.

Survivors in the Wreckage

Destatte’s case rests on the 1993 dig finding bits of bone, dog tags, and parachute parts, insisting all eight crew died in the crash. But Ralph Wetterhahn, a retired USAF colonel and crash investigator, begs to differ. His 2016 analysis paints a vivid picture: Baron 52 took radar-directed AAA fire (57mm or 85mm), descended controllably, and hit the ground at a shallow angle—not a death plunge. The fuselage flipped upside down but held together, with survivable G-forces for the five “back-end” crew (Morse operators and navigator). The cargo door was gone, the tail detached—escape routes wide open.

Wetterhahn pegs the back-enders’ survival odds as “Very High,” with a “Medium” chance they got out before the fire consumed the wreck. Dog tags and open lap belts found later? Could’ve slipped off as they scrambled free. Only one tooth and scant bone fragments (couldn’t be determined if it was human bone) remained after 19 years of scavenging—not proof everyone died. Four survivors match the intercept’s “four” perfectly, captured within hours.

Why Baron 52 Fits—and Lao Bandits Don’t

Destatte’s Route 8 theory—tied to Lao mop-up operations—falls apart when you map it against Baron 52’s crash near Saravan, under the 377th’s turf. Group 210 was there, not Vinh, and “Mr. Van”’s role points to the Ho Chi Minh Trail, not some border post. PAVN rushed American POWs to interrogation hubs; Lao irregulars didn’t get that treatment. Linguistically, “pilots” or “pirates” (often “giac” for US airmen) fits Baron 52’s crew better than “phi” for bandits, especially given the plane’s intel value.

What’s Next?

This rebuttal—built on my digging into “Mr. Van” and Group 210, plus Wetterhahn’s crash expertise—flips Destatte’s story on its head. It’s not definitive proof, but it’s a hell of a lot more plausible than Lao irregulars stumbling into a high-stakes radio call. It demands we ask: what happened to those four after February 5? Were they marched down the Trail, interrogated, lost to history?

I’ve posted the full rebuttal—dive in, tear it apart, share your thoughts. This isn’t just about Baron 52; it’s about every name still unaccounted for. Let’s keep pushing the truth forward, together. Read the rebuttal at the link below, source information will be provided in future posts. 

Link to the rebuttal report:

What do you think—could our guys have made it out? Leave us a voicemail at the link to the right and give me your thoughts!

Stay curious,

John Bear

For more of the backstory on Baron 52 you can watch the podcast and visit this story from our friends at The War Horse.

Fifty-two years after a U.S. spy plane was shot down over Laos, a family still fights for answers