My First Flight in an F–4 Phantom, by Lt. Col. John Norvell, USAF (Ret

22. “The Quiet Old Depository,” Charleston Mercury, 18 September 1861, 2: 1. 23. See “Eighth Weekly Report of the Soldiers’ Relief Association of Charleston,” Charleston Mercury, 18 September 1861, 2: 2, and “Soldiers’ Relief Association,” Charleston Daily Courier, 9

October 1861, 4: 1. 24. “Quartermaster’s Department,” Charleston Mercury, 16

September 1861, 2: 2. 25. Letter from S.L. Glover to Gov. Francis Pickens, 8 October 1861, www.mqamericana.com, accessed June 2017. 26. “To Rev. J. Bachman,” Charleston Daily Courier, 29 April 1862, 4: 4, citing the Daily South Carolinian. 27. Cauthen, Journals of the South Carolina Executive Councils, 231. 28. “To the Soldiers’ Aid Societies of South Carolina,” Charleston

Daily Courier, 30 September 1861, 1: 2. 29. See “Obituary,” Charleston Mercury, 5 June 1862, 2: 3; and

“General Order No. 22,” Charleston Daily Courier, 7 June 1862, 3: 1. Jones had been chairman of the South Carolina Ordnance

Board in early 1861. He next commanded the 14th South Carolina until his resignation on 26 March 1862. On 14 April 1862, he was appointed auditor of accounts and vouchers of disbursing officers in state service. See Cauthen, Journals of the South Carolina

Executive Councils, 130, 148. 30. Cauthen, Journals of the South Carolina Executive Councils, 192.

The “Quarter Master stores of all bulky or heavy articles” had been ordered to be removed to Columbia “for safe keeping” on 22

February 1862. See also, 98. 31. Ibid., 231. 32. On 17 July 1861, the Charleston Daily Courier (2: 2) reported

Hatch’s accounts had been “audited and examined before Colonel

Wilmot G. DeSaussure, Executive Secretary for finances,” and were found to have been kept “skilfully, faithfully, and accurately.”

Two days later, the Mercury reported the amounts paid out by the State Quartermaster Department amounted to $574,040, with “satisfactory vouchers, balancing exactly.” See Charleston

Mercury, 19 July 1861, 1: 2. Extant records in the State Archives for the period when Hatch was QMG consist mainly of lists of monetary requisitions for February, March, April, and May 1861. 33. Report of the Chief of the Department of the Military of South

Carolina to His Excellency, Governor Pickens (Columbia, SC:

Charles P. Pelham, State Printer, 1862), 46, Appendix F. 34. Cauthen, Journals of the South Carolina Executive Councils, 242. 35. Vouchers, QM Dept. Records, S.C. State Archives. 36. “Quarterly Return of Clothing received and issued at Columbia,

S.C.,” 30 September 1862 and 31 December 1862, RCG, State

Archives. 37. “An Act to Repeal the Law Authorizing Commutation for Soldiers’

Clothing to be Furnished by the Secretary of War in Kind,” 8

October 1862, Statutes, II, 69. 38. Cauthen, Journals of the South Carolina Executive Councils, 279. 39. “Clothing,” Charleston Daily Courier, 28 October 1862, 1: 1. 40. Quarterly Return of Clothing received and issued at Columbia,

S.C.,” 31 December 1862, RCG, State Archives. 41. William A. Gibson, Confederate Papers Relating to Citizens or

Business Firms, compiled 1874–1899, documenting the period 1861–1865, National Archives publication M346, Record Group 109, National Archives, Washington, DC.

My First Flight in an F–4 Phantom

Lt. Col. John Norvell, USAF (Ret.)

In fall 1972, I arrived at Luke AFB to upgrade to the backseat of the F–4. I had come to this point late in life, 28 and a captain, having been a ground pounder (non-rated or non-flying officer) for first 4 years of my career, then going to Navigator training. I had always wanted to fly jets when I was a kid so when I was selected to fly the F–4, after nav school, it was a dream come true.

The F–4 Phantom II was the primary Air Force fighter of the Vietnam War. It had entered the inventory in 1960, so in 1972 it was relatively new. It was not a small fighter, it had two big GE J–79 engines that could blast it off the deck and the bird could weigh in at nearly 60,000 pounds when fully loaded with fuel at take-off. When the afterburners were cooking, the thrust was its biggest advantage, it could push you out there away from an enemy or help you engage him in combat.

Training began at Luke with ground school. There I learned the aircraft systems, practiced emergency procedures, and spent about a month in training before I even got to fly “Big Ugly,” as we affectionately called the bird. As a WSO (Weapons Systems Officer) you don’t fly in an F–4 — you wear it. The cockpit was very small and so tight I could hardly move. I had on a G suit to handle increased G forces, an oxygen mask, and was tightly strapped to a rocket ejection seat.

Which brings me finally back my first flight.

For weeks we had practiced in the simulator to make all of the checklist procedures second nature. On 22 September 1972 the weeks of preparation and classes came together in that first flight. I remember it as if it was yesterday. We went through the preflight, started the engines, I completed aligning the INS and turned on the radar, and the Aircraft Commander (AC), who was an instructor pilot, made his call: “F–4D–010, requesting permission to taxi.”

Our F–4 taxied out of its parking space and slowly moved into position. While Hollywood has accustomed Americans to think that there is a lot of banter between aircrew members, in actuality there is usually strict radio discipline. In the back seat I finished my checklists as the AC got permission to take off. I wasn’t excited or even nervous—actually I really didn’t know what to expect— just did what I was trained to do.

Now on the runway, the AC pushed the throttles which had been idling in what was called “Military Power,” past the detent into afterburner, and released the brakes. The Phantom jumped off the runway. There is no other way to describe it. It was like being shot out of a cannon strapped to the shell. In the back, I called off 100 knots as we passed that speed and began to rapidly lift off.

All by the book.

Once in the training area, the AC put the big bird through its paces, I practiced with the radar, and we accomplished our training objectives. Then the AC told me, “You’ve got The Stick.” And I shook the stick, saying, “I’ve got ‘The Stick.’” Here I was a kid from a rural small town with my hands on the stick of a top-level Air Force fighter. Its hard to put into words my feelings of that moment, now fortyfive years later. It was mixture of pride, awe, excitement, and an extreme adrenaline rush that lasted well into the night (as my wife can still attest).

Over my years in the Phantom I would have “The Stick” on almost every mission. I would fly combat missions in South East Asia, see sights of amazing beauty in the air, and do things in the air that most folks can not dream of. And I would be changed in many ways.

Yet that first time will always be the most special.

You Can Go Home Again

In 2016, I spent a great day at the Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio. It was amazing to see all those aircraft— every version of Air Force One from President Franklin Roosevelt’s plane to the 707 aircraft that took the body of John F. Kennedy from Dallas back to Washington; a B–1 bomber, the XB–70 bomber, various versions of every type of fighter, pursuit, interceptor, and bomber ever made. Yet it was an unexpected moment that really resonated with me.

I was eager to get to the F–4 and was not disappointed. In the SEA Vietnam War zone, Col. Robin Olds’ F–4 appeared in an area that suggested Udorn Royal Thai Air Force Base, where I had flown combat missions as a Weapons Systems Officer. I turned the corner to find an F–4 crew cockpit on display with a ladder so that you could go up and climb in and sit in the crew positions. Now I have not flown in an F–4 since 1978, when I left to teach at the Air Force Academy, but I was compelled to sit in the cockpit. Compelled is exactly the right word. I had to do this. I can’t explain it; it was an emotionally charged moment that drew me into a place that I had spent probably more than 1,000 hours of my life in war and peace.

The problem of course was that while I was still 28 in my mind, my body was 72.

So I mounted the steps and climbed down into the seat. My first reaction was that I didn’t remember it being so far down in the plane. But after gingerly lowering myself into position, I settled into a place of great familiarity to me. I truly felt that I had come home.

So hard to explain, but it meant so much to me to be there. It gave me a new appreciation for the men of World War II who flew the big bombers and how they must have felt when they entered a B–17 or B–29 years later after the war. Yes it was a very special moment.

I suspect that many folks have the same moment. There is a time or place in their lives that is special in a way that they cannot begin to share with others. When they think about or revisit the place, they are taken back. Back to a time when their lives were touched in a way no one can ever know.

Being in that cockpit again was such a moment.