On the Coast

When I was a lad, we went to Maine every summer. Sometimes just for the day. Mom and Dad would get us out of bed early, very early and we would be on the road not long after sunrise.

In those days, on the state highways, there were picnic areas along the way, sometimes only a single picnic table beside a place to pull over and park. Being New England, the scenery was always special. Even if it was "just" trees. With the sun coming up, burning off the early morning mist, it was always spectacular.

Mom always brought along our favorite cereal and, as a special treat, some fruit to be chopped up and put into the cereal. Not bananas, we often had bananas at home, I remember peaches. Fresh peaches in our cereal as the sun rose on a beautiful New England day.

From where we lived, not far from the Connecticut River, it was about a three and a half hour drive from our house until we crossed the Piscataqua River which separates New Hampshire from Maine. It was always in that area that I or one of my brothers would proclaim that he could "smell the ocean." Though I know now that what we smelled was the interface between the land and sea, the romance of smelling the ocean is in my bones. I will always think of it that way.

We would spend the day on the beach, Wells, Ogunquit, York, sometimes we'd even venture as far north as Old Orchard Beach. My Dad didn't care for that latter place, "too many French-Canadians" he'd mutter. Odd coming from a man who's grandfather was born in Québec. But the Québécois who frequented that area tended to be quite rude and pushy. I'm not saying that they're all like that, just enough to ruin the reputation of the others. And yes, I know what they say about the ugly American abroad. I've seen that more than I care to relate. (I also know that starting a sentence with "and" is a no-no. Sue me, I care not.)

A day on the beach. In those days there was always a clam shack on the other side of the sea wall, somewhere close by where we kids could get ice cream or, if we were feeling really grown up, a clam roll. When I was young I preferred hot dogs, I think it was in my early teens that I discovered a taste for fried clams. Eating them in a hot dog roll, on a sandy beach, paradise!

When the day would start to wind down, we'd pile into the car (after divesting ourselves of as much sand as we could, though Dad would always manage to clean out another bucket load from the car when we got home) and head for a restaurant. That was always the finish to the there and back again in a day trips to Maine. It was always special. Though I distinctly remember Mom and Dad telling us kids that we wouldn't like lobster. It was grown up food. Even back then it was expensive!

After we ate, we'd get back in the car. Before setting off though, my brothers and I had to change into our pajamas. We were supposed to sleep in the car on the way home and once at home all Mom and Dad had to do was carry us off to bed. We were already ready. (So to speak.)

At least once a summer we would do an overnight in Maine. We'd still leave at the crack of dawn, we'd still eat breakfast beside the road on the way there and we'd still be in our pajamas for the drive home. But on those occasions we got to spend TWO days at the beach and we got to go to a restaurant TWICE! Pretty heady stuff for a young boy from Vermont.

Since those early days I have always loved being near the water. When I was a teenager Dad had a buddy at work with a cabin on a lake, we'd rent it for a week. It even had two boats we could use! While I loved the lakes we visited as a kid, I always loved the sea even more.

Somewhere along the way I forgot all that I guess. I always had a love of airplanes too, which is no doubt what drew me to the Air Force. If I'd had better contacts at the recruiting office, who knows, I could have wound up maintaining the F-4 in the Navy. But it was not to be. The Air Force got me, the Navy didn't even try. The Army tried hard but they blew it. The Marines asked but I knew I didn't have what it takes to be a Marine. I'm just too damned lazy, truth be told.

But the sea has always fascinated me. When I retired from the Air Force I was determined to live in New England, provided I could find a job. Which I did and wonder of wonders the job was on the coast, in Little Rhody. Now I get to be near salt water all the time and I love it. I imagined myself, someday, living in a house on the water. Like one of these...

They are beautiful and the view from them is breath taking. The cost is also breath taking, as is the weather when a Nor'easter or a hurricane comes to town. Where I live now doesn't have a water view. But a five minute drive puts me on Bristol Harbor, or Colt State Park where the water views are free. It would be nice to live on the water, but as I ain't rich yet, my current domicile is good for me. (Hey, I have a koi pond, so we're kind of on the water!)

Last Thursday I went to one of my favorite restaurants, right on the beach. A place which will be closing at the end of this year, so there won't be many more opportunities to eat there. So I brought the fancy camera and got there early (I was meeting friends for dinner). These pictures were taken that day. That day was beautiful, the food was superb and the company was sublime.

This summer is gone, the summers of my youth are long gone, but as long as I can "smell the ocean" and hear the breakers hissing over the beach I am content. I have so many memories I can go through and think back to days long gone. What's more, I can make new memories every day.

Here. On the coast.

Looking out to sea.

The Newport Cliff Walk is over there.

People sharing the sand with the gulls.

A brisk breeze from the water.

Sunset of another glorious New England day.

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

The Atlantic Beach Club

Odds and Ends

Fine wines for a great cause

My secondary mission this past weekend was to attend a wine tasting in my old home town. The primary mission was, of course, to see Madame Mère de le Vieux Sergent, that is, my Mom.

Now my Mom once asked me "Why don't I have a nickname on your blog like everyone else?" I answered, rather lamely, that I didn't really know, seemed like "Mom" was a pretty good title. But now I realize that my mother should have a clever moniker here on the blog.

Having thought long and hard on that topic, whilst motoring back from The Granite State on Sunday last, it struck me that as Napoléon's mother was referred to as Madame Mère de l'Empereur, roughly "Mrs. The Emperor's Mom," so, I thought, why not Madame Mère de le Vieux Sergent, roughly "Mrs. The Old Sarge's Mom" for my Mom? We'll go with the short version, Madame Mère. As did Napoléon. Pun intended.

So there you go. I hope one of Madame Mère's friends will pass that along to her. Of course, I'll tell her myself next time I talk to her. POCIR.

Now about that wine tasting.

Saturday dawned cloudy and somewhat gloomy, but by the time we went into the hills to get to Eugene and Vicki's domicile, the venue for the wine tasting, the weather had turned glorious and we now had a gorgeous late summer / early fall day. The sun was shining and there was nary a cloud in the sky. A bit breezy mind you, but not bad at all.

We sampled ten different wines, about half were domestic and were quite good. We had one (maybe two?) wines from New Zealand and three from Italy. All were quite tasty, some more than others. I liked all ten (you in the back, quit giggling!) some more than others. But those two wines depicted in the opening photo were both quite good, for more than one reason.

Chateau La Paws, our leader Jim (he is a distributor of fine adult beverages, a good man to know!) told us, donates part of the cost of each bottle they sell to local animal shelters. Bear in mind, the chardonnay was probably about the 6th or 7th wine we had sampled, my wits were not gone, they just weren't quite as sharp as they could have been. That's why I'll give you a link to their website so that you might examine it at your leisure.

There were about fifteen people there and we all had brought something to nosh upon. All of those offerings were quite tasty, all in all it was a rather refined and relaxing afternoon. Good food, good beverages and great people to hang out with. I sorely needed that!

Now there are a couple of other things I wanted to share today.

The first concerns my moniker, The Old AF Sarge. Now a colleague of mine from the place of gainful employment mentioned to me the other day that every time he sees the phrase "The Old AF Sarge" he always reads it as "The Old Fart Sarge." I assured him that I was not offended as that moniker fits me very well.

I really am getting to be an old fart.

The other thing I wanted to mention was the National Football League. That organization is beginning to bug me nearly as much as politics. Watching the games last year was so painful that I quit altogether. Admittedly I did watch the playoffs...

Yeah, playoffs.

I tried to watch the games last weekend, but the officiating and the announcers seem to get worse every year. People tell me, "Just mute the sound!" No. I like hearing the signals on the field and the crowd noise. So I guess I just have to stomach the putrid announcing and the often pi$$ poor officiating. Yup, throw a flag, that'll make the game more interesting. Bah!

I tried watching a game Sunday, the announcers were jabbering about some effing nonsense when they realized that they had actually missed a penalty call on the field. I mean they completely missed it. Thanks fellas. Effing nitwits.

The guys on Sunday night football are tolerable. Fortunately the a$$ clown that works with them is only present before the game and at half time. I find other things to do when he's talking. If you don't know who I mean, don't ask. Guy was good when he stuck to his area of expertise, which is sports. When he colors outside the lines, he is just another progressive windbag.

So yeah, not wasting a lot of time watching the NFL this year. I am watching more college football, though not a lot. I blame credit Buck. He always preferred the NCAA version of the sport. Egads, next thing you know I'll start watching hockey!

I used to watch it way back in the late 60s, early 70s. Then it became a boxing match on skates. For a long time I'd only watch Olympic hockey. Now there's a game of skill and finesse. Don't see a lot of fights in Olympic hockey. I think.

One last thing, I had a dream the other day which involved me having to choose one, and only one, football game which I could watch. That would be one game every year. The only game. What did I choose?

Army - Navy. That's a no brainer for me.

Oh well, so it goes. I have an aircraft post in the mill, not sure when it will see the light of day, perhaps soon. Think delta winged.

The Old Man and the Sea

No, this isn't me trying to be Earnest Hemingway- far from it.  My writing is far too pedestrian to be even remotely considered worthy of being mentioned in the same paragraph with Papa Hemingway's work.  It's a great title though and I had to borrow it- which is more of an homage vice a larcenous act.

Source

I'm using the title to write about my first ever trip off the coast of California to go Deep-Sea Fishing.  The picture at the top was taken just before dawn, from the stern of our day's livery- a 60' by 20' Sport Fisher, the Chubasco II.

To be perfectly honest, I've never read The Old Man and the Sea, although I should at some point since it's considered one of his most famous works. Published in 1951 as his last major work of fiction published in his lifetime (thanks wiki!), it earned him both the Pulitzer and the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Hemingway once offered up five writing tips for authors.

1. To get started, write one true sentence.

Ok, here goes.  I'm a lousy fisherman.

No, seriously, I suck at it.  I was a complete and total clusterfluck out there on the water.

Hemingway's story centers on Santiago, an aging fisherman who struggles with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream.  I'm a little past middle-age, although the trip aged me considerably, and there was no catching of marlin off SoCal as it's the wrong part of the world. There was however, a whole bunch of struggling on my part.  I struggled with my gear, I struggled with the crew, and I struggled with my own decision to pay good money for the trip.  More on that later.

As you can see in the following pictures, it wasn't an unsuccessful day- we filled the deck Yellowfin Tuna, and several of us (15 in all) reeled in some Dorado (aka Mahi Mahi- my favorite fish by the way), Skipjack (another tuna variety), and Yellowtail (Hamachi).

Fatty Tuna (and some Dorado)

However, just because we caught a lot of fish, that doesn't mean I did well.  To be perfectly fair, it was my first time out there.  All my past experience with fishing until then was lake fishing, mainly with a spincaster.  Learninghowtofish.com describes that rod/reel combination with the following:

This is the preferred set-up for the inexperienced angler. Spincasting outfits are excellent in teaching the beginning angler and children the mechanics of casting. The spin cast reel is mounted above the rod with the reel spool enclosed with a nose cone cover, this prevents line snarling and backlash’s that are associated with bait casting reels.

Inexperienced is an understatement.  The crew was very knowledgeable, but their instructions on using the gear, given at 0530- well before I had enough coffee inside of me, was far too fast for me to take in, and almost cursory in nature.  I was the only novice, and so the guy barely explained what I needed to do to keep myself from looking like an idiot out on the deck.  The primary rule was to keep my thumb on the reel as I casted out, but that was the only rule I consistently forgot.  Nearly every cast I made until the early afternoon when I finally got the hang of it resulted in a bird's nest of line around the reel.

Captain Ernie loading up the bait bucket.

2.  Always stop for the day when you know what will happen next.

Well, I can't really stop writing since I want to finish this up for Tuesday's post, but as far as that goes for fishing, it's good advice.  We were using live bait-  minnow and anchovy, but keeping it alive as I baited the hook was another struggle for me.  I didn't have trouble grabbing the fish out of the bait troughs in the picture above, but it squirmed around so much that I either held it so tight that it was barely alive by the time it went in the water, or I barely hooked it so it possibly wriggled off the hook after the cast.

I did stop however, after wasting about two dozen bait fish, knowing that the next would have the same result.  You might remember what the definition of insanity is.  I gladly asked for help, letting the crew show me how to properly bait the fish, but I was really just letting them do it for me.  It wasn't just my grip, but I was also holding it far too long before getting it in the water.  The fish were lifeless and uninteresting to the many schools of tuna we found both with sonar and from bites on the trolling rods hanging off the back of the boat.  I just wasn't fast enough to bait the hook, cast out, untangle my bird's nest, and get the bait in front of the school to catch very many.

3.  Never think about the story when you're not working.

I took all these pictures with no intention of writing about the trip- that came from Sarge's suggestion.  I figured I'd just post a few to Facebook to show my more outdoorsy relatives that I do have some skills.  I also didn't have time to think about the post out there on the water.  That's partially because the fish were running really well, and there wasn't much time to do anything but fish. The El Niño that we're hoping drenches SoCal this winter is pushing the warm water current close to the coast so that the warm water fish are really easy to catch.  If we weren't fishing, all of the crew, and most of the guests- were busy prepping the gear for the next school.  Others were landing fish so fast that the decks were bloody, the crew was yelling at us to keep our lines from crossing, then yelling at us to grab another pole and keep fishing.

While I never missed one of the opportunities to fish, I wasn't exactly helpful to the crew- tying hooks, untangling lines, re-stowing the rods, etc. during the down times.  As it was, I was often too busy doing something else.

4.  Don't describe an emotion- make it.

I was really excited to go on the trip.  As I said, I had never been, and I really like tuna, usually raw, on top of rice with a bit of wasabi and soy sauce.  So getting a chance to fill my freezer with some of it interested me greatly.

  

The excitement I first had waned shortly after we got a mile or two off the coast and into deeper open waters down off Mexico.  The Chubasco II had a galley and the cook was serving up Breakfast Burritos.  It was really good and I was glad to have something in my stomach since I knew I could get a touch of motion sickness.

The first time I flew in the S-3 Viking I got sick, but never again until after my shore and disassociated sea tour and I had been out of the cockpit for 5 years.  Once again, I was fine on that first flight after I lost my lunch.  I figured it would be the same aboard the fishing boat- hurl and get back to fishing.

And I did, for the most part.  I fed the fish over the side, but just an appetizer.  I felt sick, but couldn't lose the whole burrito, and so the sickness remained, and made me miserable.  The seas were very choppy, and hitting the boat at an angle that just seemed to make it worse for me.  I was a bit embarrassed, as my friend who organized the trip made it a point to let everyone know that I was in the Navy.  However, I was an Airedale, not a boat driver, and fishing boats move around a whole lot more than Aircraft Carriers do.

Hemingway's tip was to avoid describing an emotion- make it.  Hmm, I made myself a little embarrassed by my lack of fishing skill, I made myself frustrated that I couldn't get over the sea-sickness, and I made myself wish I was dead.

However, about an hour later I chummed the waters once again and fell good enough to get back on my sea-legs.  The burrito tasted a whole lot better going down than it did coming up though.

Once that was done, I felt really good, good enough to eat some pita chips to absorb whatever bile or gastric juices were left gurgling around in my now-emaciated stomach.

Bad idea.  I then finally realized that it's best to have absolutely nothing in my stomach.  The 7-Up and pita chip acid chowder that followed was my final contribution to King Neptune.

At one point, I got a little ticked off at the Captain.  He yelled at me to stop pulling on the rod as he said they'd rather use the gaff to pull it onto the boat and reduce the chance of the rod snapping.  Later, he laughed at me when I asked him to gaff it-  "Really Tom?  Really?"  Not realizing that the fish was a relatively small tuna.  I couldn't win for losing.

I wound up catching my limit- 5 Yellowfin Tuna.  I only caught one fish using a rod that I had baited myself though.  My best luck was when I was "on duty" watching the trolling rods hooked to the back of the boat, when one caught.  I pulled in one of the larger tuna for the day that time.  I'm not really sure this counts, but at one point one of the crew baited my hook, cast out for me, and when it hooked moments later, he used the gaff to pull it onto the deck.  My contribution?  I reeled it in until he could gaff it.  Old man and the sea indeed.

The day was pretty much over by then and we headed back to Mission Bay in San Diego.  The crew spent the hour transit filleting and bagging up the fish.  After we docked, we divided up the bags among us.  15 tired and sunburned fisherman had done well..  

5.  Be brief

So I will.

All in all, it was a good day.  I'm glad I did it, but I'm never going back.  I would rather meet a boat at the dock around 1730 and offer to buy a few bags off some other lucky fellow.  It would be cheaper, easier and I'm not sure the fun was worth the price of admission.  Visiting San Diego?  Let me know and I'll give you a referral.

Oh yeah, I had Sashimi for dinner and it was delicious.  

Maybe it was worth it after all.

The .22

So, There I was….* Last Tuesday morning, reading Tuna’s post wondering what it was that the Russians almost ruined whilst simultaneously looking at hideous aircraft pron.  But, hey, when you’re so ground bound that you’re forced to jealously read other folks’ account of just taking off and flying around West Virginia for the fun of it, or reading about the pre-solo flight training of a soon to be pilot, then who am I  to criticize an aircraft based on looks alone.

In any case, Tuna commented that one of the aircraft looked like it had been “designed in a vineyard, or at least after a few glasses of vino.”  Having tipped a few glasses of vino in my day, I quickly saw the resemblance and since he said it was a French plane, the possibility that his statement is totally accurate I’d say is high. 

Hard to get a feel for size, but the glass area between the nose and the intake is the cockpit, so large enough to seat a person.
Source

So, I read through the rest of the post and made one of my usual pithy comments, then scrolled back through to the French Leduc .22.  Something bugged me about it and I couldn’t figure out what it was.  I studied the picture, but it was still eluding me.  Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V the name into Google and off we go. (USAF Birthday last week, had to do it)

The Leduc .22. Look at how the cockpit is arranged.  Here is a better picture of it.  Source

Anyhow, there’s the usual Wikipedia article, which following Suldog’s guidance, I read for background and links to other good sources.  Not a lot of info in the 4 sentences provided and the only web link is to a web page in French.  One of the bits of information mentioned that it was a ramjet. Knowing that the USAF is still perfecting Ramjet technology, this piqued my interest and I dug a little deeper. 

Cutting and pasting the French Web Page into Google Translate, (not wishing to impose on Sarge’s French translation skills on his day off), gave me some key pieces of information. 

The two portals on the front are where the pilot sits.  Not sure how (if?) he'd have gotten out in an emergency.
Source

Evidently Rene' Leduc had begun to build a prototype in the 30s and had actually gotten it to fly, albeit after the war.  (Surprisingly, This article says he was able to keep the Germans in the dark about his work on ramjets. )

The Leduc .10
Source

Because a ramjet provides no thrust unless air is moving through it, the .10 required  a lift and dropoff to fly.  The.22 was fitted with a conventional jet engine as well as the ramjet, so could actually take off on its own power.
Source

All 4 prototypes (6 aircraft) flew successfully, although during testing the second and third were destroyed in accidents and the pilots severely injured.  The final prototype,the one on Tuna’s page, flew first on Dec 26, 1956.  It flew 34 times before they attempted lighting the ramjet.  The ramjet successfully lit, but failed to achieve the speed of sound. Subsequent flights experienced the same problem, and the program, which was intended to produce a  supersonic fighter, was eventually cancelled.

Source

At that point, I knew what it was about the picture that bugged me.  It didn't have Whitcomb’s area rule pinch.  Richard Whitcomb, in 1952, had been working at the Langley Research Center and published a paper outlining how to overcome the drag that built up along the fuselage of an aircraft as it approached the speed of sound.  It involved reducing the size of the fuselage in the area where the wing is attached.  Since most jet engines at the time were comparatively low powered, they could not easily get through the sound barrier.

By “pinching” the fuselage, there isn't an abrupt increase in the total surface area of the aircraft being pushed through the sky. The buildup of drag as the supersonic shockwave made its way down the aircraft was reduced.  And reduction in drag is almost always a good thing in the flying world.

Clearly, Leduc’s would-be supersonic fighter would have benefited from a pinch in the waste.  As I pondered that, I remembered that both the T-38 and the F-4 had that feature.

You can see the area rule adjustment right where the US Air Force is on the side
(USAF Photo)

You can also see it here starting at the intake and becoming very pronounced at the bump between the green and brown paint.
(USAF Photo)

 However, I didn’t remember it on the F-15. Had they done away with it? The Pratt and Whitney engines were certainly powerful enough.  Yet, the F-4 was the epitome of the saying, “with enough power, even a brick will fly”.  If McDonnell Douglas engineers had decided it was worth it for the F-4, I didn’t believe they would forsake it on the Eagle.

So, I’m reading about Area Rule, and come upon a forum that had a thread about it and why modern fighters didn’t have the pinch.  Most of the commenters said it was because of “so much thrust”.  One of the commenters however said that one of the reasons the 747 was so efficient was that the designers had taken Area Rule into account, and rather than pinch the fuselage which would reduce interior seating space, they had built the now famous 747 bump.  

Wikipedia

This picture shows that the bump ends almost exactly where the wings begin.

Which got me to thinking about the F-15.

(NASA.Gov Photo)

As I’m looking at pictures of the F-15, I thought I had figured out how the engineers had done it with this picture.

And knew I did with this one.

Loaded for bear!
(Commons.wikimedia)

Clever those McD Engineers. Building the canopy, engine bays, wing roots and nacelles to not only have outstanding visibility, hold the engines, and provide lift all while reducing drag.

For those of you that would like to see the Leduc .22 in flight, I present this.  Hopefully you are fluent in Spanish.

*SJC

I Have Returned!

I have returned from a lovely weekend in New Hampshire and Vermont with my Mom.

Juvat is up tomorrow and has something wondrous and cool (as always) for your entertainment.

As for me?

I am exhausted from the long drive up and the long drive back.

This convalescing thing isn't for sissies.

Blogging Might Be Light

"Damn Sarge, took off for the weekend. Left me here all by myself!" (Source)

I'm traveling back in time over the weekend. Back to the days of no Internet. It'll be just me and my trusty cell phone.

I may attempt a post from it. Odds are, probably not. I will be checking the comments so play nice.

Virgil, Juvat said he bought another bottle of Barbancourt. I think that GM3 Jackson in that opening photo may be using it to clean that 5-inch mount. Maybe not. Hard to tell.

You never know with those Gunners Mates! (Said job The Naviguesser aspired to if he could just skip the whole NROTC/college thing. I guess the Gator Navy really appealed to him during his enlisted cruise. I pointed out that being enlisted was a lot of fun. Which was one reason why they don't pay us as much as the officers.)

Oh yeah Tuna, I think we received a new shipment of snark. Check the loading dock.

Tuna: We have a loading dock?

Me: Yeah, it's over there by the main conference room.

Tuna: We have a conference room?

And so it goes.

Have a great weekend, I'll be back on the web of world wideness Sunday afternoon. Or thereabouts.

Ciao!

The Friday Flyby - September 2015

(Source)

And today is...

(Source)

That's right, the 68th birthday of my old outfit, the United States Air Force. While I have some issues with the current leadership of the Air Force, the vast majority of those currently wearing the blue suit make me damn proud to have been an airman. Those men and women get it done, sometimes in spite of the higher ups!

So this month's Flyby is dedicated to the men and women of the United States Air Force via their official representatives, the United States Air Force Thunderbirds!

Now while the Air Force itself is older than I, by six years, I am actually older than the Thunderbirds, by 17 days. For what it's worth, the "official" name of the Thunderbirds is the USAF Air Demonstration Squadron. They began life in the southwest at Luke AFB, the nickname of The Thunderbirds was influenced by the native folklore and culture in Arizona. (Though truth be told, the legend of the thunder bird was prevalent in many tribes including those around the Great Lakes, the Great Plains and in the Pacific Northwest.)

The first time I saw these magnificent pilots they were flying the Hun, the F-100 Super Sabre. A most magnificent bird. I've seen the Birds in the T-38 and the F-16 as well. Oddly enough, I never saw them when they were flying the F-4, the aircraft I am often associated with, having worked on that bird for 7 odd years. (Odd as in roughly, not odd as in strange. Though come to think of it, both definitions fit. More or less.)

So what have the mighty Thunderbirds flown in their 62 years of existence? Picture time!

The Thunderbirds flew the F-86 Thunderjet/Thunderstreak from their inception in 1953 until June of 1956. (Source)

The Thunderbirds flying the F-84 Thunderstreak, note the swept wings of this later variant of the F-84. (Source)

The F-100 Super Sabre (the Hun) was used from 1956 to 1968, with the exception of 1964 (see below). (Source)

The Thunderbirds flew the F-105 Thunderchief, the mighty Thud, for only six shows in 1963. (Finding a Thud in Thunderbird colors is hard! Source)

The Thunderbirds' switch to the F-105 lasted only six shows. They switched back to the Hun after a catastrophic structural failure of the No. 2 aircraft during a pitch-up maneuver that resulted in the death of Capt Gene Devlin at Hamilton Air Force Base. (See here for the full story and a fine tribute to Captain Devlin.)

The Thunderbirds and the mighty F-4E Phantom II. This was their ride from 1969 to 1973. (Source)

The Thunderbirds flying the T-38 Talon. This trainer aircraft was chosen due to the oil "crisis" of 1973. Only six shows were flown that year in the Phantom. The Talons were used from 1974 to 1983. (Source)

The Thunderbirds now fly the beautiful, highly maneuverable and deadly F-16 Fighting Falcon. Known more appropriately as the Viper, she's every bit as deadly as her namesake! (Source)

The Thunderbirds have their own website here and their own YouTube channel here. I highly recommend both.

Now what's a post about a flight demonstration team without a video (or two)?

A pretty lame one I'd argue!