Phantoms Phorever…

For those who have ever had the pleasure of flying in, or even watching a Mickey D’s F-4 of any model in action, I give you following…

In their own words…


They’re coming one after the other now. Each day seems to bring another heartache – articles in professional journals, invitations for “the last of” events, calls for yet another “Old Guy Reunion”, order forms for coffee table books. I’m beginning to realize that there’s no putting off the fact that one of the most revolutionary, capable, and elegant airplanes ever to dominate the skies has gone away.

I refer, of course, to the F-4J Phantom II. Over the last several years the grand old boy has taken his leave. With the F-4J goes the notion of variable Intakes, radar intercept officers, and 2.0 indicated Mach number on the airspeed gauge. And with the F-4 also goes a big part of what made my life noteworthy, dare I say, the stuff of novels.

The Phantom had an amazing run: thirty-plus years, the Vietnam war, dozens of brushfires and contingencies. Few airplanes in the history of aviation have adapted as well to the tactical landscape over their years in the inventory. The F-4 was designed by McDonnell Aircraft Company as an interceptor aircraft round the radar missile system, a long-range air superiority fighter that pushed out the boundaries of fleet defense. The early portion of my flying career was about launching on the Alert 5 and escorting Soviet bombers and transports. Those were the days of the 1+45 cycle, the days when the Phantom was the fuel critical jet in the air wing. The thought of dropping bombs was anathema to us then.

But the threat changed as the Viet Nam War dragged on and other mission requirements meant the Steely eyed fighter pilots had to load Mk-82’s on the wings and prove they were capable of beating up the dirt almost as good as any fully trained attack puke. Suddenly the Phantom, with its two-man crew and newly received upgraded radar was the platform of choice for air superiority in high threat areas.

But now the F-4’s time is over. Emotions stir in the face of this reality. Thousands of hours of my adult life were spent strapped into the front seat of the “Big Ugly Fighter.” It was there that challenges were met, friendships were forged, and the nation’s will was carried out. From that lofty perch I looked up at the heavens and down on hostile lands. I didn’t always realize it then – youth, of course, is lost on the young – but each sortie was a gift.

So, too, was the time spent in the company of greats. I think back on chain-laden plane captains who loved the airplanes as much as we did, those like Sam, who kept the aviators going with their enthusiasm in the face of long days that promised nothing but more hard work. I remember the maintenance master chiefs who taught me not just how the Phantom works but how to be an officer and a man. And for their caring they asked for nothing in return. In their countenances I saw my responsibilities.

Anyone familiar with Naval Aviation has a defacto doctorate in pilot personality types. Any RIO with 1,000 hours or more in the airplane possesses a similar degree. And as I flip through the pages of my weathered logbooks and read the names – Smith, Crenshaw, Southgate, Driscoll, Ensch, Roy, Bouck and hundreds more – I think of their skill, skill that boggles the mind even now, and the teamwork between cockpits that made flying the F-4 so rewarding. I know few things as surely as I know that U.S. Navy carrier-based pilots are the best in the world.

And what of the down times between sorties? In my mind’s eye I conjure up a gathering in the eight-man stateroom where problems are broached, dissected, and solved. This is where I learned about trust. This is where I realized I could survive the trial that was life at sea – hell, life period.

Now I close my eyes and hear the clack, clack, clack of the shuttle as it moves aft for the next launch. The exhaust from the powerful and reliable J-79 engines fills my nostrils until we drop the canopies and bring our jet to life. Air roars through the ECS. Systems power up. Soon we’re parked behind the cat, waiting our turn. I roger the weight board – 56,000 pounds, buddy, 56,000 pounds. Grasp that, if you can. The jet blast deflector comes down and we taxi into place, deftly splitting the cat track with the twin nose tires.

And then – even after decades of doing the same thing – the adrenaline starts to flow as we go through the deck dance unique to the Phantom: The nose strut extends, giving the fighter the look of a beast ready to leap into the air by itself; the director moves you into the holdback. Wings spread. Flaps lower. Our hands go up as the ordies arm the missiles, bombs.

There’s the signal from the catapult officer. I put the throttles to military power and wipe out the controls – stick forward, aft, left, and right; rudder left and right.

“You ready, C-ball?” I ask.

I run the fingers of my right hand across the top of the lower ejection handle (for orientation purposes) and hear from the back, “Ready Queenie, I’m right behind you.”

I salute. We both put our heads back slightly. (forget once and you get your bell rung by the head rest). A couple of potatoes later we’re off. Airborne.

And for the next hours we stand ready to bring this machine, this manifestation of American know-how, to bear however it might be required. Or maybe today isn’t our day to save the world, so we accommodate one of the small boy’s requests for a fly-by or break the sound barrier — just because we can (and we’re far enough above our fuel ladder to get away with it).

We’re flying a Phantom. And we’re getting paid to do it.

Alas, I speak of days gone by. What remains of what once gave my working life purpose is now only found in front of main gates, aviation museums, and VFW halls around the country. In the blink of an eye I have become the white haired guy with the ill-fitting ball cap and the weathered flight jacket who bores young ensigns (and anyone else who happens to make eye contact) with his tales of derring-do. “VF, dang it!” I rail. “Those were real fighter squadrons.” And they were. Fighting Falcons, Jolly Rogers, Swordsmen, Pukin‘ Dogs, Tomcatters, Grim Reapers, Diamondbacks – mascots of an adventure. At the center of it all was the airplane itself, and when an airplane has so much heart, personality, and character it ceases to be inanimate to those who climb into it on a regular basis.

So it’s goodbye, dear friend. Forgive my depression. I’ve heard the promises of a brighter future, but my time in the arena was with you. I watch you launch into the sunset and wonder how it all could have passed so quickly. It doesn’t seem like that long ago when we were together, inextricably linked, one defining the other. Ours was a world of unlimited possibilities and missions accomplished. Ours was a world of victory.

So goodbye, Big Fighter, blessed protector of the American way and our hides. We who knew you well will miss your class, your swagger, your raw power. Even in the face of technological advances, you bowed to no other. Thanks for the memories. They are indeed the stuff of novels.

AND the stuff of legend. The last aces in the US Military were made flying Phantoms!
And a personal remembrance from a friend of his last Phantom flight…

“Moe” and I flew the absolute last squadron/station F4 out of Oceana. Both Moe and I were stationed at Pt. Mugu at the time. We were tasked with flying a USMC F4N from El Torro back to Cherry Point.

There was an F4 that had been used by some school at Oceana for a number of years, even after they were totally gone from the tarmac. The Dallas reserves took about a month or so to get it flyable and had one of there crews do the test hop. Moe and I were tasked to drive up to Oceana from Cherry Point and fly that F4 back to Mugu. It was one of the newer F4S models with all of the goodies etc, etc, and Mugu wanted it for flight test. Moe was in Targets Directorate at Mugu, and I was the Ops Boss for flight test.

So, being the Sierra Hotel true Mach 2 fighter crew that we were, we had to depart Oceana in the appropriate manner. Now remember, this was after the edict had been sent down from on high about NO HIGH PERFORMANCE ANYTHING etc, etc.

Yeah, right!!! Moe and I “visited” the tower for a little conversation etc, etc. Once we cranked up and departed the VF101 line, there were a couple of Turkeys in the hold short area and we were given takeoff clearance before them.

Asking for an immediate right turn after take off along with an immediate down wind and a 180 call without gear and flaps (full blowers of course), we were cleared and also cleared for an “unrestricted” climb to 20K after the departure end of the runway.

I think I remember seeing about 550 crossing the approach end at about 100 feet and then when we passed the tower it was max g’s into the vertical with a “couple” of victory rolls thrown in for good measure. Ya should have heard the hooting and hollering from those Turkey drivers, and the rest of the folks on the radio as well!!!

Still brings tears to these “old” RIO eyes!! I hope we did all of “us old” F4 guys proud. Oh yes, no flight violation either since ATC and Oceana Tower cleared us for the right down wind pass and “unrestricted” climb!!!!!

Wish we could do it again! Not sure the gut would take it though! We can still dream can’t we!!!

While these events may be 20+ years in the past, to the men who flew them, it’s as if it was yesterday… On a historical note- The Turkeys referred to in the last letter were F-14A Tomcats, they too are gone from the inventory as of last year.
While the US no longer flys F-4s, they are still in service around the world. In Japan, it is considered a highly prestigious posting to be allowed to fly the Phantom, and it’s about a 3 year waiting list. Once a JMSDF pilot qualifies and does a tour in Phantoms, I have been told regardless of what else they fly the rest of their careers, the Phantom II patch always stays on their flight suits in tribute.


Phantoms Phorever… — 19 Comments

  1. I was working on a cattle ranch,located on the flight path between McDill and Avon Park bombing range in central Fl.The F4s used to fly over ,three or four spread out and really honkin it toward the range,many times they were real low and scared the hell out of the green broke horses we were ridin,the range cows too.However we never tired of seeing them,great sense of pride to see those American fighters up there,just made you feel good about your country.They were an awesome looking plane.

  2. Now why didn’t I fly? Never knew what I was missing, thanks for the post – reminds me what being young was really like when holding so much power and passion in check.

  3. I remember the first time I went to sea aboard USS Independence CV62 in the spring of 1974 as a young snot nosed blueshirt of 19. Air Wing 7 started to recover for carquals and I got my first taste of chockling an F-4 from VF-33. The other Phantom squadron was VF-102 Diamondbacks(now VFA-102) I made two cruises aboard Indy and one on USS Ranger CV61 with VF-21 and VF-154 in Air Wing 2. Then came the Tomcats.
    The Phantom was so brutally loud in burner, straining against the holdback. It was the loudest noise I have ever heard. I loved it!
    GM Cassel AMH1(AW) Retired

  4. ADM- That they did… Living proof a brick can fly 🙂

    Diller- You were under an “oil burner” or low level route! I know where you are talking about. The requirement was 500 feet and max 500 kts.

    Earl- We all made different decisions for different reasons 🙂

    GW- Yep, they were “fun” First trap I got was in the back of a 102 F-4B on Sara in 1971. 172kts across the round down, and 450 feet to a “sudden” stop… 🙂

    Crucis- Only till you went around the horn into Burner stage 1 🙂

  5. Thanks for reminding me of some names and places from the good old days.

    AT, A-6’s, P-3’s and A-3’s, 72-93

  6. I first saw the F4 at a Blue Angels show as a kid. It will always be the archetypal jet fighter to me.

    Thank you for your service.

  7. i am jealous with all this flying talk….. I always wanted to learn, but never had the money for it….. But i did get to ride in a friends Cessna a few times, and he let me take the controls a few times, (the planes control’s that is)… LOL

  8. Cpd, I was aircrew in the Air Force, but not a pilot. That came later. It was something I was always going to do. One day, I realized that I wasn’t getting any younger. I started lessons the following weekend.

  9. Jeffro- Thank you Sir.

    CPD- It was a job… A little different from yours, but just a job.

    Crucis- You did it right!

  10. Thanks for the great article.

    I had the privilege of working as an Aircrew Life Support specialist in an F-4E squadron for a couple of years…many decades ago.

    One of the greatest memories I’ll ever have was getting an incentive flight while in Germany for exercises.

    Pilot, who shall be nameless to protect his reputation, was crazy enough to turn over the controls for a few minutes. Didn’t crash so I guess I didn’t waste all of the simulator time the pilots snuck me into.

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