As Captain Bob Pardo and his squad of F-4 Phantom fighter-bombers barreled toward a North Vietnamese steel mill, he knew something was wrong.
Just meters away, his wingman Captain Earl Aman's plane was pouring fuel after taking the brunt of the blast from about 1,000 guns protecting the target.
With only 2,000 pounds of fuel remaining, it was impossible for Cheetah 4, the stricken aircraft, to leave enemy territory.
Pardo couldn't bring himself to expose his wingman to certain capture or death when he fell on rice cakes with nowhere to hide.
So he attempted what became known as “Pardo's Push,” the most famous maneuver in U.S. Air Force history that will live on in military history long after the decorated aviator's death at age 89 last Tuesday.
Pardo almost skipped the March 10, 1967 bombing because it was his birthday, but he didn't look at the date and got dressed.
Bob Pardo (left) and his weapons officer Steve Wayne (right) in Vietnam, where they carried their wingman to safety after his plane was damaged on March 10, 1967
Pardo had the crippled plane's pilot lower the tailhook and balance it on the front of his own jet, flying it 88 miles to safety
The Thai Nguyen steelworks, just 53 miles north of Hanoi, was one of the most important targets in North Vietnam and was full of air defense installations.
Aman and his weapons officer, Lieutenant Bob Houghton, suffered early hits about 40 miles away but continued until the force was cut down on the approach.
Cheetah 2, Pardo's plane, lost too much fuel to return to its base in Thailand without refueling in mid-air, but Cheetah 4's tank was riddled with shells.
“I'll try to give you a push.” ”Fly this thing as smoothly as you've never flown before,” Pardo radioed to Aman.
The planes climbed to an altitude of 30,000 feet and Pardo tried to push his wounded wingman from behind and then fly underneath and give him a piggyback ride – both failed.
However, since the jets were equipped with tailhooks for landing on aircraft carriers, Pardo decided to try something even more radical.
He had Aman lower the hook and stop the engine. Pardo positioned his jet so that the tailhook rested on his canopy so he could fly Cheetah 4 to safety.
But the hook only stayed in place for a few seconds before it slipped and cracks began to appear in the hood.
Instead, he maneuvered the hook into a mental space beneath the windshield, and the two planes began hobbling the 88 miles to friend-controlled Laos.
After about 10 minutes, Pardo's engine caught fire and he had to shut it off, but their altitude dropped too quickly.
“We're not going to make it into the jungle,” he said, restarting the engine in a fit of desperation – much to the alarm of his weapons officer, Lt Steve Wayne.
“Maybe you should turn this thing off, it’s 1,000 degrees,” he said. The engine should only run at a maximum of 600F.
Despite the risk of an even worse fire or explosion from a jet, they continued to fly for another eight minutes until they crossed the border and Aman and Houghton bailed out.
Pardo continued for a few more minutes until his engine quit and he and Wayne got out too.
Steve Wayne, Earl Aman, Bob Houghton and Pardo reunited in 1996, nearly 40 years after the daring rescue in the sky
Pardo died Dec. 5, more than 56 years after saving his wingman in Vietnam
The four airmen escaped the Viet Cong who were hunting them and were rescued two hours later. Pardo was the last to be picked up, 45 minutes after his comrades.
After a few glasses of whiskey in the rescue helicopter and a full glass when he saw the flight doctor and was told he had broken his back on landing, he returned to base to a hero's welcome and celebrated until Midnight.
Everyone assumed Pardo and Wayne would get medals for saving their wingman, but they didn't count on the grumpy top guys.
Lt. Gen. William Wallace “Spike” Momyer, commander of the 7th Air Force in Vietnam, was unfazed by the risks Pardo took and by sacrificing his multimillion-dollar jet in a rescue.
He ordered a court-martial, but Pardo was saved by his commander-in-chief, Colonel Robin Olds, who flew to Saigon and negotiated a deal with Momyer.
No one would be court-martialed, but neither would they be recognized in any way for their heroism and ingenuity.
Instead, it has been unofficially immortalized among generations of aviators, including with a famous 1986 painting by aviation artist Steve Ferguson that hangs in many Air Force offices.
Pardo received additional medals in Vietnam, including the Air Medal, a Purple Heart and two Distinguished Flying Crosses.
The maneuver was immortalized in this famous 1986 painting by aviation artist Steve Ferguson, which hangs in many Air Force offices
Pardo's move became known as “Pardo's Push,” the most famous maneuver in U.S. Air Force history that will live on in military history
Pardo (left) and Wayne (right) flew the famous bombing raid on the Thai Nguyen steel mill, just 53 miles north of Hanoi
Everyone assumed that Pardo and Wayne would get medals for saving their wingman, but instead they were almost court-martialed for sacrificing the plane
He remained in the Air Force until 1974, retiring as a lieutenant colonel and becoming a company pilot and Aman flying for FedEx.
It wasn't until 1989 that Pardo and Wayne were awarded Silver Stars after an aide to U.S. Senator John Tower heard about it and his boss nominated them for the Air Force Cross.
A few years later, Aman and Houghton also received Silver Stars.
But Pardo said he never cared about winning a medal, he just did it to save his wingman and didn't even think about leaving him behind.
John Pardo's Silver Star quote
Major John R. Pardo distinguished himself for valor in connection with military operations against an opposing force over North Vietnam on March 10, 1967.
On that day, Major Pardo was flying as the lead element pilot returning from a 1,000-mile flight that sustained heavy flak damage.
He noticed that his wingman's aircraft was in trouble and was advised that the aircraft was extremely low on fuel. When Major Pardo realized that the wingman's plane would not make it out of North Vietnam, he conducted maneuvers to literally push the plane over the border.
The attempt was successful and enabled the crew to avoid being taken prisoner of war. Through his bravery and devotion to duty, Major Pardo has brought great honor to himself and the United States Air Force.
“A lot of people have asked me, 'How did I have the courage to make that decision knowing the windshield could break at any time?'” he told the San Antonio Express-News.
“My dad taught me that when your friend needs help, you help.” I couldn't have come home and told him I didn't even try anything.
“It doesn’t give me any extra privileges, but it does make me feel better about who I am.”
When Pardo attempted the maneuver, he had no idea that it wasn't the first time someone had done it – because it too was suppressed by the Luftwaffe.
Captain Robinson Risner, a top fighter pilot in the Korean War, used his plane to blow down the exhaust pipe of his comrade Lt Joe Logan's wrecked F-86 in 1952.
They managed to fly 60 miles into open water where Logan was able to eject, but he became entangled in his parachute and drowned.
Pardo wasn't even interested in joining the Air Force when Risner made his own push – he had a year to enroll at the University of Houston.
Flying was the last thing on his mind since he worked three jobs and made “a pretty good living playing pool” in the pool room of his dorm.
But he dropped out after a year and was busy digging pipeline trenches for his father, a foreman at a gas company, when he learned that the Air Force was accepting student pilots straight out of high school.
Pardo was a natural in the cockpit and received his wings on May 15, 1955.
The Airmen stayed in touch after the war and rallied behind Aman after learning he had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease.
Pardo and his friends raised $60,000 by selling T-shirts printed with Ferguson's painting of his aviation achievement.
Proceeds funded a computer and speech synthesizer, a motorized wheelchair and a portable ventilator to improve Aman's quality of life.
Then an Air Force Academy classmate of Aman's, who was then vice chairman of General Motors, donated a GMC van with an elevator and a special electrical system that would transport Aman's ventilator and medical equipment.
Aman finally died on October 15, 1998.
Pardo (right) with Lt. Col. Matthew Gaetke, 310th Fighter Wing commander, at Luke Air Force Base, Arizona, in 2017
Lt. Gen. William Wallace “Spike” Momyer (pictured), commander of the 7th Air Force in Vietnam, was unfazed by the risks Pardo took and by sacrificing his multimillion-dollar jet in a rescue
Pardo married Kathryn on March 7, 1992 in Bergstrom and has five children, ten grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren.
His family moved to College Station, Texas after he retired from business aviation in 2002, where he died on December 5.
“Everyone who met Bob always had the opportunity to have a good time and laugh, unless there was a John Wayne movie on,” his obituary said.
“In his spare time he was a keen golfer and spent many hours at Golds Gym, but the most important people in his life were his wife Kathryn, his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He often combined his love for his grandchildren with golfing or flying.”