February 2010

November, 2009

Very sad news that George Proudfoot, a squadron pilot during 1968-69, passed away on November 25 from prostate cancer.  See his obituary in the Raleigh News-Observor, with messages from his friends and relatives.  The obituary and tributes from his fellow aviators are here.  Joe Garzik, Frank Hunsaker and Bob Schmitt attended his memorial on December 12, 2009.  I read from "Catch-22":

"He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt, and his only mission each time he went up was to come down alive."

September 2009

Pilot Joe Garzik wanted to drive Route 66; his original plans to go with Patsy did not work out, so RIO Bob Schmitt met Joe in Chicago on September 12 and the next morning they launched down the Outer Drive to Michigan Avenue, turning right onto Adams Street and starting the 2,200+ mile drive west to Los Angeles/Santa Monica, ending on September 24. Surprisingly, less than 100 miles of the journey were on an Interstate - all the rest was the "old road".  Definitely a good adventure and the song says it all:

If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, the highway that's the best.
Get your kicks on Route 66!

August, 2009

US Naval Academy Museum

Thanks to many years of effort by Phantom pilot Dave Gould (Chu Lai, 1967-68), the re-opening of the USNA museum on August 29, 2009 included a model of VMFA-314, Vietnam era Phantom F-4B.

Great work and excellent results Dave! How do I get a copy?

Squadron "Stuff"

The DVD

For the 2007 reunion, VMFA-314 pilot Bob Fraser created a terrific DVD from his Super 8 movies taken in 1968 from the cockpit of the F4B, with ground shots to further the story.  Send me an email if you would like more information about this DVD.  Bob has told a detailed and engrossing story of this time. Copies are available as of December, 2009 for $7 plus postage.

The Patches

Squadron patches are still available for $7.50 each. A sample appears at the top of this page, created for the reunion from the versions used in 1968-69.  If you want a patch, send me an email as above.

The Books

In late 2007, we heard from two '80s vintage squadron members, Mike Wanamaker and Lee De Haven, who are writing a history of VMFA-314 during the 1965-1970 era.  Several squadron members have contributed photos and stories to this work. The first draft was put on the VMFA-314 wiki in January, 2008. An excellent project!

We already have three squadron authors: Frank Petersen ("Into the Tiger's Jaw: America's First Black Marine Aviator") , John Trotti ("Phantom Over Vietnam") and Joe Garzik ("City Hall"). Can any other squadron match this high "literacy level"?

The squadron cruise book for 1968-69, "The Black Knights Continue the Fight" has been scanned and will soon be available online at medium resolution.  A high-resolution, 200 dpi scan is available on a data DVD for $3, including postage.  Add the 1969 cruise book on the same DVD for $2 more, or $5 total.  Email me.

The Sounds

Several tape recordings by Bob Schmitt, George Proudfoot and Frank Hunsaker have been converted to CD.  These include in-cockpit mission "chatter", a "Hello America" report on a Phantom crash landing, and several "O" Club floor shows.  Single CDs are $3 and all recordings in a set will be $10 when editing is completed, postage included. Inquire about further details.

The Phantom is Phifty!

"The YF4H-1 prototype made its maiden flight on May 27, 1958, taking off from Lambert-St. Louis Municipal Airport with McDonnell test pilot Robert C. Little at the controls".

Below are two factory photos from US Military Aviation Discussion Group (Mark Nankivil) and check the factory (now Boeing) website:

Phantom - Original Single Seat Mockup May 1954

Phantom - 2 Seat Mockup Dec 1955

The Phantom II is long out of service with the Marine Corps.  Or is it?  Here are two 2007 photos from Major Byron D. "Shrek" Sullivan:

VMFA-314 Hornet with two Japan Air Self-Defense Force Phantoms

VMFA-314 Hornet over Iwo Jima

October 16, 2007

GOOD-BYE PHANTOM

(author unknown)

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 intercepter 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 Summa 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 de facto 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, 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.

Photo courtesy of (Sgt) Ken Anderson, USMC, VMFA-314

The VMFA-314 Black Knights of Chu Lai, 1967-1970, had a Great  Reunion!

January 13, 2007

First report of the Reunion!  It was great!  If only "sunny" San Diego had lived up to its tourist posters, it would have been perfect.  We did see a little sun, but the temperature never got much above 60.  Nevertheless, we had more guys - with spouses and friends - than expected, with nearly 90 folks at the banquet and about the same number at the other venues and functions.  We'll have a combined action report with photos someday, but at this point it's another "mission accomplished" for the Black Knights!

Send questions or comments about this website to Bob Schmitt (and check a report on one of my flights: "Marine Phantoms in Vietnam" It's a long way from then to now!)