Flight Surgeon (FS) – the term elicited two responses from many jocks: Don’t see him unless you have to do it, and do not volunteer any information on your health.
My first experience with a FS surgeon occurred in graduate school. In 1967, I received notice that I was to report to Griffiss AFB in Rome, New York, for a physical to determine if I could enter flight training. Sadly, my vision changed while I was in grad school, and I couldn’t pass the vision portion of the exam.
I always had issues with the color blindness portion that required one to look at a circle filled with colored dots and read the number. But this was not what did me in, I simply no longer had 20/20 vision and could not even qualify for navigator training. The FS terminated my flight career then. It probably didn’t help that I told him about some past health issues I had experienced in college. No, I didn’t say I had been unconscious, but I did volunteer more than he needed to know. All these things ended my career flying in the bud.
Still, I never gave up on flying, and luckily, by 1971, the Air Force needed more and more men to enter flight training, and I could qualify for navigator training.
At Mather AFB in November 1971, I had yet another flight physical. I admit I was still somewhat naive about my relationship with the FS. I was a captain who had been non-rated for four years. My experience with Air Force medical care was minimal. I had been to the base clinic for a cold or two, but that was about it. While standing in line, a knowledgeable “brown bar” (2nd lt) told me not to volunteer anything to the FS, not to lie about my health, and not to say anything that wasn’t pertinent to the present exam. Thus began my relationship with the FS: a sort of love-hate co-dependency.
Every year, I had to take a flight physical while on flight status. I viewed this event with some trepidation. First, I was built like a fireplug and always had to watch my weight. Even more so — the Air Force kept changing how it determined if one was too heavy. First, they used a sliding scale that increased as one got older, so it was OK to be a bit heavier. Then they instituted a new program that said you had to be the same weight your whole career – what you weighed at 18. Not realistic for us folks with a low metabolism.
So, I had to ensure I was below the maximum weight before my annual physical or be assigned to the dreaded “Fat Boy” program, which was the kiss of death for promotion. Interestingly, this applied mainly to lower-ranking folks, as there were often photos of full colonels and generals who looked very big. But I digress.
For the years, I was on flying status; I had no problems and was always within the standards set for my height. It was when I broke my leg in 1987, my time on flight status ended. The FS grounded me permanently. I could no longer pass the annual PT tests; I retired in 1989.
While it might seem that I had a negative view of the FS, this was not the case. I always got excellent medical treatment from them, and they went out of their way to experience what we flyers did in the air.
One of the best examples was Dr. John Pendergrass flying in the F-4 Phantom II in combat during the Vietnam War. Pendergrass’ time in the backseat, or “Pit,” as we called it, occurred in 1971. Then, he flew 54 combat missions out of Da Nang in the Pit over Vietnam. This was something he did not have to do. He states in his well-written account of that time, Racing Back to Vietnam: A Journey in War and Peace, he could have added his name to a C-130 crew manifest and had a much safer way to fulfill flying time requirements. ( See his obituary below, he passed away in November 2023.)
He did it in The Phantom out of a sense of duty and a personal and professional need to experience some of the most high-adrenaline, demanding types of flight of the Vietnam War. Most GIBs went to Nav School and underwent an eight-month upgrade to the Phantom’s back seat; Pendergrass gained his skills flying on the job. He learned that the back seat of the F-4 was a place of G-suits, Martin Baker ejection seats, INS, radar, RHAW gear, memorized emergency procedures, and many circuit breakers. It was where one needed to be a contortionist while tightly strapped to a rocket, hoping it would never fire. It was a place where the man in the rear cockpit was valued, and every flight in combat was never routine. Pendergrass noted that this influenced him, which became the great adventure of his life, as it was with those of us who were lucky enough to experience it. Pendergrass was typical of the FS who served and tried to find out what made us jocks tick.
He was typical of FS I often saw who were not the enemy determined to ground us but allies to keep us in the air.
I will forever be grateful for their excellent care and help.
Dr. John L. Pendergrass, 78, who died on Wednesday, November 08, 2023.
Interment will be held at a later date in Arlington National Cemetery.
John was born and raised in Clarksdale, MS. He received his Bachelor of Science degree from Delta State College, where he was a charter member of Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity. In 1969, John received the Doctor of Medicine degree from the University of Mississippi and went on to complete an internship at Baylor University Medical Center.
John served as a United States Air Force flight surgeon during the Vietnam War caring for sick and wounded servicemen. He flew 54 combat missions in an F-4 Phantom while stationed at DaNang Air Base, Republic of Vietnam and was a life member of the Red River Valley Fighter Pilots Association.
After completing a residency in ophthalmology at Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas, TX, John practiced ophthalmology at the Green Eye Institute for 44 years.
He was active in community and medical affairs, serving as vice-president of the Mississippi State Board of Medical Liscensure, president of the South Mississippi Medical Society, president of the Louisiana – Mississippi Ophthalmological Society, president of the Mississippi Eye Ear Nose and Throat Association, and president of the board of directors of the Hattiesburg Family Y. He also funded and endowment that provides free textbooks for military veterans who attend the University of Southern Mississippi.
An active endurance athlete for most of his life, John competed in numerous road races, marathons, and triathlons. He founded the Hattiesburg Track Club in the late 1970s. John was the first person to compete in six Ironman triathlons on six continents in his sixties, a journey he described in his book, “Against the Odds.” This book, along with his award winning memoir, “Racing Back to Vietnam,” was published by Random House.
John is survived by his wife and family.
An American Family 
Thanks for the referral to Pendergrass’s book. I picked up the “last copy” from Amazon apparently.
I’ve heard from a certain flyer I know that it is the impression of many that FS appear to look for reasons to ground aircrews, so the advice you were given wayback continues!
Here’s to a Happy, Healthy New Year!
I don’t remember all my flight surgeons but one guy I remember well was a Mercury space program flight surgeon his head was definitely screwed on right. But all the rest, I used the same code as testifying in court – only answer the question and no more
Before flight school I was told do not self medicate and tell flight surgeons nothing—they are out to ground every flier and destroy their career. I only answered questions asked and volunteered nothing every annual physical. However I too encountered many exceptional flight surgeons over my career. Two stories: 1. My flight surgeon at my last flying base ended up as the chief flight surgeon while I was doing my staff tour. He put arthritis in my records and I was concerned. He said don’t worry it won’t affect your flight pay and some day after retirement you will thank me. I thank him. 2. After retirement my PCM was a retired Navy flight surgeon. After about 2 years of seeing him once a year he said ‘You know you are now retired and you COULD come see me more often’. My answer Old habits hard to break but I loved this doctor—He GOT me.
I can’t remember i\his name, but coming home from TDY I was scheduled to fly the back seat with a Flight Surgeon in the 336th. I quickly alerted the scheduler about the mistake and it turned out he had been sent to pilot, astronaut training and RTU and was actually a nose gunner. Good guy too.