Over and Out at El Toro

Even for those at El Toro Marine Corps Air Station who’ve never flown the mighty jets--never strapped on an oxygen mask and felt the flattening, G-force pull of a $28-million, supersonic plane--it still hurt to watch the last of the F/A-18 Hornet fighters take off Wednesday for good.

“There’s something about these birds,” said Lance Cpl. Joe Domann, a 23-year-old Marine who has never sat in the cockpit of one of the fighter jets but is in charge of making sure they are safe to fly. “It’s their power or something, their speed. They make my heart pound like you read about.”

The Kansas native gave the nod to launch his final batch of jets from El Toro on Wednesday, sending 17 of the combat planes blasting toward the Santa Ana Mountains for the last time, destined, like their pilots, for a new home 80 miles south.

Next summer’s scheduled base closure has transferred the squadron to Miramar, the naval air station made famous by Tom Cruise in the movie “Top Gun,” where what several Marines have dubbed “the takeoff of an era” will begin.

“It’s bittersweet, leaving here,” said Lt. Col. Mike Codding, a pilot who has been stationed at El Toro for four years. “This place is a part of me now. Flying out today is like looking in the rearview mirror and leaving history behind. We won’t be back. It’s over and out.”

Such sentiments did little to warm the hearts of many who live near the base, though. Weighing in on the ever-boiling debate over El Toro’s future and a county proposal to turn the property into a commercial airport, several residents of Leisure World in Laguna Hills applauded the jets’ departure Wednesday.

“Good riddance!” said Virginia Olney, 70, her face to the sky. She clapped as another plane screamed overhead. “For the first time since I’ve lived here, that god-awful racket actually sounds good to me. It means they’re getting the heck out of here.”

Victor Hedman, a retired farmer and 12-year Leisure World resident, lifted his yellow golf cap and scratched his smooth head.

“I can see how seeing these last flights out could be sad to some,” he said. “But we’re still here, you know? We’ve got to look out for ourselves. The military’s gone, but what’s going to take its place? More jets and more noise? I just can’t take it.”

The planes’ Orange County exit was thunderous for eight hours, with each jet ripping through the clouds above El Toro in timed crescendos that grew into explosions, blasts that brought fingers to ears before ending lightning quick.

But for such a historic event it was also unceremonious, with few handshakes or speeches, waving spectators or teary-eyed relatives. Instead, it was the hum of the F/A-18s and the overcast sky that the squadron members tried to focus on, saying they wanted to look forward, not back, not ever.

Six pilots headed Wednesday to an aircraft carrier some 200 miles at sea; the remaining 11 to El Centro, where they will begin three weeks of training exercises. The primary mission of the plane is to attack and destroy enemy targets.

“I hate that we’re losing a base,” said Lt. Don Breen, a flight instructor and F/A-18 pilot. “Once you boot a base, you never get it back. It’s made things sort of depressing around here. I think we’re all ready to move on.”

With the squadron gone, there will be only a handful of helicopters fluttering around El Toro, a cessation Lt. Brian Hennessy suspects will be missed by many, regardless of what any angry neighbor says now.

“It’s time for us to leave and things will pipe down around here, yes,” Hennessy said. “But when it does and it’s over and we’re out, we’ll be missed. I’m sure of it. That sound everybody’s complaining about? The one that’s so annoying? That’s America.”