In the "Wild Weasel" configuration, an F-4 goes transonic...
Engines: Two 17,900-pound thrust afterburning General Electric J79-GE-17 turbojets
Weight: Empty 29,535 lbs., Max Takeoff 61,651 lbs.
Wing Span: 38ft. 5in.
Length: 63ft. 0in.
Height: 16ft. 6in.
Performance:
Maximum Speed: 1,485 mph (Mach 2.25) at 40,000 ft.
Ceiling: 62,250 ft.
Range: 1,100 miles
Armament:
One 20-mm M61A1 rotary cannon;
Four AIM-7 Sparrow missiles or 3,020 pounds of weapons under fuselage;
Up to 12,980 pounds of various weapons on underwing pylons.
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I wrote the following piece in early 1970. It was well after Tet, but still during the thick of the hostilities. I was on a TDY repairing GCA vans to be returned to service in the field. A friend that crew chiefed this particular Phantom was having an unusal electrical problem and asked for some assistance. I kiddingly told him that I'd get him the equipment he needed and help him with the repair if he could get me a seat on the check ride. I never expected it to happen. When it did, it left an impression on me that hasn't faded the least bit in over 25 years. I wanted to share it with ya'll as it's going to disappear from our servers.
Enjoy!
-Toonces
I could feel the pressure forcing the ridges of my spine into the flimsy cushions that lined the ejection seat. The confining nature of the area assigned to the cockpit's backseater was made even more restrictive by the binding presence of the lapbelt and shoulder harness assembly. The cold smooth surface of the oxygen mask conforming to the curves of my face would have been suffocating except for the cool breeze of gas delivered through the hose that served as my in-flight umbilical cord. I struggled against the pressure and the webbing of the harness to catch a glimpse beyond the edge of the front seat that blocked my view ahead. The sihlouetted outline of the mountains, with the sun beginning to set behind them, made a spectacular backdrop for the vast expanse of jungle, town, and airbase that lay beyond the sea. The coastline rushed towards us at more than 600 knots. It was like watching a slow-motion movie run at full-speed. It was an instant transition from the olivedrab of the seatback to the splendor of this frantic landscape moving closer at near Mach speed. The roar and the shake that comes with sitting on top of five-digit horsepower was almost overwhelming...and always the nagging question, "Will this monster hold together? A thought best left on the ground...and then, a subtle change that occurs in a flash as you realize that the control surfaces are changing pitch and the stick is being pulled back. The horizon disappears, and there is an enormous, bellowing, howl that erupts as the afterburners ignite. This is a prelude to the renewed pressure that leaves only the eyeballs in a mobile state. It's as though God has given you a good swift kick in the ass. There is nothing but blue beyond the canopy, and yet the feeling of speed is ever present. Looking upward, the blue begins to darken rapidly as the altimeter reveals that in an unimaginably short time you've climbed from a few hundred feet above the ocean to over fifty thousand and well into the thin air. A slow forever roll brings the Earth back into view and provides the gateway for a sweeping descent. The pressure ebbs away and the ever present blare of the engines seems almost quiet without the contribution of the burners. A few minutes later and we're locked in the glideslope. The bump of a solid, but perfect touchdown is quickly followed by the thump and pull of the drag chute...
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