As the CRUSADER careened into the deck edge catwalk and started to roll over the side of the ship a little voice advised me to jettison the aircraft cockpit canopy. "Better blow your lid now. Don't get trapped in the cockpit by water pressure as you sink. Forget about an underwater ejection through the canopy unless you want to end up three feet tall and shredded. The canopy exploded away from the F 8. Now I could enjoy a more unfettered leisurely exit one way or another once things settled down a bit on my impending voyage to the bottom of the sea. In short, I was trying to figure it all out, to improvise at least as rapidly as the situation was deteriorating.

My interest in expeditious preparation for underwater survival was sharpened by my acute awareness that during the past few months two roommates, another squadron mate and a fourth air group pal had not been able to extricate themselves in similar aquacades.

My F8 lurched over the side and rolled inverted. I looked "up" and saw the tumult of the ship's wake approaching pretty rapidly. As the CRUSADER dove toward the water the same little voice that had clued me about getting rid of the canopy was now whispering a tip not to be in a rush to eject under water because the natural terminus of my projected trajectory was in the midst of HANCOCK's 4 mighty churning propellers. So, as the F8 plunged into the water and the sea boiled into the cockpit and engulfed me I reached down to my right and yanked the "ditching handle". This released me with my parachute from the ejection seat-I waited 30 feet under water for ten tons of Crusader to come down on top of me.

It's pretty obvious that I made it so I won't burden you gentle readers with all of the ensuing gory details. Suffice it to say that my problems weren't over yet.

Anyway, the upshot of this little fandango was that the old aviator's maxim that goes, "Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing" was amended to incorporate the words "or swim".

Aside from the above records I went on to capture several other dubious distinctions. Notable among these was an incident at Atsugi, Japan US Naval Air Facility. After extensive study and assiduous preparation I was able to garner laurels as the first and only Naval Aviator in history to retain his wings and flying status subsequent to execution of a very precise and deliberate 4 point slow roll on take off. What made this performance really special was that the base commander was gaping out of his office window in stupefied disbelief as this $2 million CRUSADER snapped into an inverted attitude and disappeared below tree level off the end of the duty runway.

My justification? Pretty obvious to any thoughtful person: having completed testing the undersea capabilities of the CRUSADER, it was obviously necessary for the VF 154 safety officer (me) to thoroughly explore the extremes of the CRUSADER'S high-speed low-level acrobatic performance envelope. Also of course, there was the obvious salutary effect on squadron morale of doing so in this auspicious setting. Any rational objective observer would certainly stipulate to the fact that this type of maneuver had substantial pertinent precedent. After all, Atsugi had been the main base for the Kamikaze. Furthermore-although some may posit that this was an unintended consequence- I believe that the direct result of my Atsugi aeronautical endeavor was that I was substantially better prepared for my record-shattering return engagement with the HANCOCK's barricade 3 months later. Recently I was amazed to discover documentary proof of the validity of this hypothesis, it is in a film produced by the manufacturer of the F 8 entitled:

"F8U ACCIDENTS"

As I sat watching this dire depiction of devastation, disaster and death the following message flashed on the screen:

“BARRICADE LANDING AS IT SHOULD BE DONE”