Suwon, South Korea
CNN
—
It took more than 40 years, but the dream of “Top Gun” has finally come true.
For an hour and 40 minutes, in the back seat of a South Korean Air Force F-4 Phantom, I became “Goose” from the classic 1980s film. So Worth the wait.
As a child, I loved newspapers and writing, so journalism was a natural choice for me as a career.
But I also had a love for all things military, especially military aviation, and nowhere is that more evident than the story of U.S. Navy aviators at the Battle of Midway in World War II, when the U.S. sank four Japanese aircraft carriers and turned the tide of the war against Japan.
After graduating with a journalism degree in 1981, I figured I could still try my hand at being a military pilot. So I went to see a Navy recruiter and took a physical exam. Part of the test was a color-blindness test. There were dots of lights scattered around a dark room, and I had to tell them which were red and which were green.
I failed miserably and was automatically disqualified as a modern pilot.
His dream of going civilian and becoming a pilot was thus dashed, but a few months ago, the South Korean Air Force announced that it would be taking CNN representatives on a farewell flight aboard an F-4 Phantom aircraft.
If there was ever a plane that could fulfill my fighter jet dreams, it would have to be the Phantom.
This plane first flew in 1958, the year before I was born, and it was on the news almost every night as the workhorse of the U.S. Air Force during the Vietnam War, truly making it the military aircraft of my youth. It flew with the U.S. Navy Blue Angels and the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds flight demonstration teams at the Cleveland National Air Show in my hometown in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
In 1969, U.S. ally South Korea bought McDonnell Douglas jets to bolster its air power in preparation for a possible invasion from North Korea.
Supersonic F-4 fighter jets can reach the DMZ in less than five minutes from their base in Suwon, just south of the capital, Seoul, a major boost for South Korea’s military given that the planes are capable of air-to-air combat and can carry twice as many bombs as World War II-era B-17 bombers.
The fact that the F-4 is still in service more than 60 years after its first flight speaks to the jet’s durability.
The U.S. military last flew the F-4 in 1996. Outside of South Korea, only Greece, Turkey and Iran still operate Phantoms.
But getting into the F-4 wasn’t as simple as taking the 90-minute trip from Seoul to Daegu on South Korea’s KTX bullet train.
No, I have to demonstrate several physical capabilities: being able to withstand low air pressure, being able to handle an aircraft ejection, avoiding dizziness in the simulator, and most importantly, being able to withstand 6G (six times gravity) exerted on my body in the centrifuge simulator.
It was warned that just under half of those tested at 6G forces would fail.
The tests are scheduled to take place at a South Korean air force medical facility south of Seoul in the weeks leading up to the F-4’s flight.
After fitting into my flight suit and boots, I headed into the 6G simulator, where I was being tested along with other reporters as candidates for the trip.
We were quickly taught breathing techniques and how to tense our bodies to keep blood from draining from our brains.
I didn’t know this before the test, but the flight surgeons didn’t think I was “fit” – I was a little overweight, had bad posture and was 65, my colleagues told me.
But I was born in Ohio, the home of the Wright Brothers, the home of my license plate that reads “Birthplace of Aviation,” and the birthplace of astronauts Neil Armstrong and John Glenn, who flew on the Space Shuttle at age 77.
With that pedigree, I knew I could succeed.
You have two chances to survive 6G, so stay calm and try not to pass out within 20 seconds.
I got in the simulator, gave it the thumbs up, and…oh my goodness.
As I hit 6G, everything went dark. I could see nothing but a pink dot on a black background. I took a deep breath and screamed from my throat. I later watched the video of my test and realized that it looked like I was undergoing an exorcism.
But I didn’t pass out, and that was enough.
My Phantom flight was the second of two legged celebratory flights organized by the South Korean Air Force to mark the retirement of the aircraft, which ceased operations on June 7.
During each leg, four F-4s would fly in formation, three of which would carry journalists in the back seat, and one F-15 would carry a cameraman to document the event.
As our military bus pulled into Daegu Air Base on a sunny Thursday afternoon and the morning flight to the Daegu Nuclear Power Plant roared down the runway, I smiled with excitement.
This was real, and I was ready.
On my morning flight, I greeted some American journalists who had disembarked from the F-4 I was piloting in the afternoon.
“how was it?”
“That was fine for me,” she said, but not for the two other Korean journalists on the jet, both of whom were nauseous; one of them vomited twice.
After lunch and a flight briefing with the pilot, we geared up and headed to the plane for our afternoon flight.
Once we got back to the runway, everything went as fast as the F-4 itself. We were all set up in no time. I think I high-fived the pilot. “We need speed, we need speed.” Then I climbed the ladder to the cockpit, buckled in my harness and seatbelt, and the pilot started the General Electric J79 turbojet engines.
Then I got to do some real backseat work. I turned on the radar. It could only be done from the backseat. Yes, I’m Goose.
We closed our canopies, taxied to the runway, and roared off into the blue Korean sky.
History and Future at 4,000 Feet
As we reached cruising altitude, our formation got closer together, with the large fighter-bombers almost wingtip to wingtip.
The pilot adjusted the throttle to keep pace with the aircraft while keeping it close, providing a smooth but slightly choppy ride.Now I understand why my Korean colleagues were getting sick to their stomachs.
After 10 to 15 minutes, I looked down, back, and to the right. Fittingly fitting into our formation was the future of South Korean military aviation, a domestically built KF-21 fighter. It was a prototype, one of six still flying. A second KF-21 appeared on the left side of the formation.
Korea Aerospace Industries, the manufacturer of the KF-21, is building six prototypes that will undergo test flights until 2026, after which mass production and deployment will begin. A total of 120 aircraft are scheduled to be delivered to the South Korean Air Force by 2030, and the aircraft is also expected to be available for export.
After 15 to 20 minutes of flying in formation, the KF-21s made a tight turn with their wings nearly perpendicular to the ground and returned to base.
The Phantom continued to fly.
As much as I marveled at the KF-21, I also marveled at the jet I was flying in. I formed images in my mind of knobs, buttons and levers on three sides of my body.
This analog wonder spoke to me, my time, my generation.
The KF-21 is a digital marvel and offers a different type of flying.
One South Korean Phantom pilot told me he has no plans to switch to the KF-21; he will fly the equivalent of a Boeing 737. Others might switch to less advanced fighters in the South Korean fleet or become drone pilots. One, rather gloomily, said he would likely have a desk job; no one they knew would fly the KF-21.
As we flew over the Yellow Sea and headed north up the west coast of the Korean Peninsula, I looked at the analog clock on the instrument panel in front of me.
“Damn, I’m ten minutes late,” I thought, checking my rating on the Casio on my wrist.
Somehow appropriate, but still disappointing: this adventure was coming to an end sooner than I expected.
Soon the pilot banked the Phantom to the right, instructions came over the radio, and we began our approach to Suwon Air Base.
An analog instrument on the lower left of the instrument panel indicated that flaps were deployed as the pilot slowed the Phantom, then the tricycle landing gear was lowered.
With a nearly vertical view of Suwon, we banked the plane sharply left for final approach.
Within seconds, the wheels touched the concrete, and it was smoother than an airliner. Amazingly, there was no shaking or vibration as the 30,000-pound military plane hit the runway.
As the ground staff inspected the four planes before taxiing to the hangar, the pilot asked my opinion.
“Let’s run to get to the front of the line again,” I said, and, remembering Ohio, I sprinted between the posts to get back to the front of the line for one more ride on the roller coaster at Cedar Point Amusement Park.
In my wallet is a laminated paper card, an “Aerospace Physiology Training Certificate,” authorizing me to fly South Korean fighter jets until June 30, 2025. That’s the proof I passed the 6G test.
No, don’t think about it, it wouldn’t be the same.
For an hour and 40 minutes I was “the goose.” For an hour and 40 minutes I lived a 40-year dream.
