This book is a sequel to the author's first book about the F-4 and its pilots during the Vietnam War. It adds ten additional stories. These stories show the commitment to duty of the brave men who flew the F-4 and the pain that duty cost them. As the ground war struggled for success in Vietnam, it became intensely clear that the skies had to be owned by the Allies for victory to have a chance. It was the F-4 and its pilots that made that possible. The author, a Phantom pilot himself, details intense stories of undaunted and valiant American pilots with their legendary fierce Phantom. These are personal stories of intrepid courage and self-sacrifice to get the mission done--whatever the cost. Fierce and unflinching battles to save friendlies and destroy a ruthless enemy are all recorded over forty years later. These are true tales of war at five hundred knots. Warriors at 500 Knots: Duty and Pain By Robert F. Kirk AuthorHouse Copyright © 2017 Dr. Robert F. Kirk All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5246-5940-0 Contents Foreword, xi, Preface, xiii, Chapter 1 Another Hard Day, 1, Chapter 2 Dangerous Direction Into Hell!, 11, Chapter 3 Practice Makes Perfect!, 23, Chapter 4 A Close Shave With the VC!, 39, Chapter 5 It Promised to be a Normal Day (Part One), 47, Chapter 6 It Promised to be a Normal Day (Part Two), 87, Chapter 7 Starry, Starry Night, 117, Chapter 8 The Tears of War, 137, Chapter 9 "Big Eyes" and Dear John, 147, Chapter 10 The Last Mission and the Freedom Bird, 157, Epilogue, 173, CHAPTER 1 Another Hard Day It had been a hard day for Lieutenant Jim Williams. Lieutenant Williams was a pilot backseater in the F-4. He had already completed 220 combat missions in the F-4 and was on his tenth month of a twelve-month tour of duty. He had seen a lot of things and been through a lot while being stationed at Da Nang Air Base, Republic of Vietnam. He had flown up into the highly defended North Vietnam several times as well as having flown about half of his missions in the jungles of Laos. He had flown day missions, night missions, both in all kinds of weather from severe clear, to dark, rainy, danger filled thunderstorm days and nights during the monsoon season. He was just about spent! He was counting the days left on his tour and was silently nervous, and perhaps a little superstitious about finishing it. He felt like he might be able to complete his tour but he was sure that he couldn't fly one more mission after his rotation date arrived. He thought to himself, I will get my tour over with, but I wont volunteer for another tour or even one more combat mission. The war had changed Jim. When it all started he felt strong, confident that the war had real meaning and was worthy of all of the effort being expended on it. Now, he felt less strong, less confident and had doubts about the wisdom of the war. He was emotionally and physically tired and really needed to get this war behind him. Today, Jim's assigned mission was to serve a twenty-four hour duty sitting in the F-4 alert shack. Several F-4 crews would sit in these alert shacks and wait to be called to fly one of several critical missions. The most critical of these was when friendly, isolated troops were under attack by hostile forces. These were called Troops in Contact. The Viet Cong or the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) regulars would pick nighttime hours or times when the weather was bad with low clouds or stormy conditions, to launch their raids against the friendly forces. They knew that the dark of night or horrible weather conditions made it difficult or even impossible for air assets to be called in to aid the friendly forces under attack. Those aircrews in the alert shacks were anxiously waiting it out during times like this. If the weather was good they were thankful because the chances of going out were much less than if the weather was bad. Unfortunately, for this duty assignment the weather was not forecast to be good. Yet, Williams and the other alert crewmembers received their briefings from the Intelligence and the Weather sections, grabbed their flight gear, climbed into a crew van and headed out to the alert shack. The alert shacks at Da Nang were crude by any comparison. They were really just small, mobile trailers that had been set up close to the flight line. There was nothing in them except some steel and wooden chairs, a couple of small tables and two rows of double-stacked bunk beds that fit along the walls. There was just enough room between the rows of bunk beds to walk through the trailer. There were no windows and the color inside and out was a pale, light beige. Nothing stood out about the trailers except two things. One was the feeling of starkness and depression as one worked through the narrow aisles toward a bed. The other was a sense of unbelief as one viewed the trailer from the outside. Each side was lined with rows of sand bags that were stacked five to six feet high. These