“We used to joke about the psychiatric term for a passionate love affair with inanimate flying objects—we flew F-100’s—and we marveled at the thought that the taxpayers actually paid us to do this “work.”  We were not draftees, but college graduates there [Vietnam] by choice, opting for the cramped confines of a jet fighter cockpit over the comfort of corporate America.  In all my life I’ve not been so passionate about any other work. If that sounds like an exaggeration, then you’ve never danced the wild blue with a supersonic angel.”[1]

That “swept-winged seraph just seemed more responsive at night.  The cramped cockpit was cozier, with the warm red glow of the instrument panel, the smell of burnt hydraulic fluid and the muffled whine of spinning turbine blades deep in her belly.  When they slipped the surly bonds, man and machine were one, dancing in and out of the dark with devastating effect.”[2]

“There it was again—that boot in the butt as the afterburner kicked in on take-off roll—and another chapter of life in the fast lane began. Four Super Sabres took off on Runway 21 in five second intervals, pointed inland. They turned right after take-off, fanned out across the rice paddies of that beautiful valley by the sea and began the climbing join-up on the lead plane. The sun was just coming up. It felt great to be alive and airborne.”[3]

North American F-100D Super Sabre with tail markings of my squadron, the 309th Tactical Fighter Squadron,
31st Tactical Fighter Wing, Tuy Hoa Air Base, Vietnam. Profile artwork owned by Joe Vincent, friend,
former fighter pilot and Vietnam veteran.

Take a walk-around of one of the only F-100's still flying, an 'F' model owned by "Cutter" Cutshall.
 

Read the back cover and endorsements and Preface
of JD’s next book.

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