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F4 phantom cockpit video8/14/2023 Other types in the same era still needed assistance from surface-based radar units."ĭesign work on the F-4 began way back in 1953, and a drastic revision to the navy's original concept required the plane to have broad capabilities. The Encyclopedia of World Air Power describes the Phantom II as "the first aircraft which could detect, intercept, and destroy any target which came within radar range. That boom-boom and straight-line stuff is okay, but the F-4 really is good at everything. The F-4 can deliver 16,000 pounds of destruction, after which it can turn around and beat a path back home at almost 1600 mph. Any yo-yos get cross-eyed and we send over an F-4 to rearrange their furniture. McDonnell Douglas's description of its creation is innocuous: "The two-seat, twin-jet, all-weather, supersonic F-4 Phantom is a versatile multiple-mission air-superiority fighter, fighter bomber, advanced interceptor, ground support, tactical strike, and reconnaissance aircraft." Sounds okay, we need some of those. It is one of the most potent airplanes ever built, and this qualifies its pilots for instant admission to the Navy Home for the Brave and Giddy. The job of the fighter pilots, after all, and their source of greatest joy, is simply to go out and light the wick on the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom. Now, that's not a bad investment in light of the planes' cost, but when you consider that all fighter pilots should be regarded by all the rest of us (except maybe race drivers) as solidly entrenched in mental-defective status, the investment seems a little less sound. The navy PR office in Washington says that by the time a pilot is fully qualified in something like an F-4, about $1 million will have been spent on his training. "VF," in the navy's infinite wisdom, stands for "Fighter Squadron," and "171" designates one unit assigned to Oceana Naval Air Station, in this case the squadron consisting of three dozen officers and 50 enlisted men training 40 or so officers and 150 enlistees for duty as replacements with the Atlantic Fleet. The clean-cut, mild-mannered young Scott Campbell is a flight instructor in VF-171 (for which he says the main requirement is that, "well, you can't be a dirt bag"). Norfolk understands the mentality of the navy's jet jockeys, so it would probably understand racers, too. There is not much question that fighter planes and fighter pilots are much like race cars and race drivers. Not long after Muammar Kaddafi's Libyan flyboys have gotten uppity and been permanently de-blipped from Middle Eastern radar screens by a couple of our flying swabbies, the marquee on the Ramada Inn reads, "Navy 2, Libya 0." Norfolk is a big navy town, headquarters for the Atlantic Fleet. The marquee at the Norfolk, Virginia, Ramada Inn has set the tone for my visit. I am supposed to take a ride in this young man's airplane. Instinct no longer says this youthful package must surely contain a youth. And around Campbell's trim waist is a belt clasping a buckle that says, "Scott Campbell, Fighter Pilot." But at second glance, are the eyes something other than mild? The real hints are in the lieutenant's bars, the razorlike trouser creases, the spit-shined shoes, the gold-trimmed white saucer cap, and the olive-drab flight jacket with a half-dozen colorful unit patches arranged to best advantage. Scott Campbell isn't constituted to put up with the malarkey of the feather-merchant syndrome, yet no strong hint of his decisiveness is held in his young face, smooth cheeks, and mild eyes. There is some trouble at the gate, but Scott Campbell comes barreling out of the hangar, verbally slashes the red tape, and whisks us across the compound, through the door beneath the "Fighter Country" sign and into the privileged sanctum of U.S.
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