To me, with two experienced pilots in the aircraft that is a very logical conclusion, and as I said, not unheard of for aircrew to have strong preferences about that switch position (especially in an in-flight emergency) despite squadron protocols. If they had waited and executed a single commanded, automatically sequenced dual ejection, given what was envisioned to secure a safe flight path, it might have still taken too long to get the pilot out safely anyway.
They probably figured that in the worst case, the backseat would go early and as long as the aircraft was still flying and not falling or tumbling, with zero-zero seats there would be time for some last attempts to save the bird and/or people potentially in the flight path before the pilot punched out.
IME no one ever plans to die or to be a hero, they just step up and do what they're trained to, plus a little bit more in most cases. It's the story we end up telling afterwards to describe that day that tends to create legends out of folks whose accounting of the events usually include phases phrases like "never been more scared in my life" and "it all happened so quick I didn't have time to think, I just acted".
With only the current facts at hand, I believe your LT was a genuine hero who never planned to die and the CDR who survived was simply following their plan. However, it's tough to sound brave or noble and talk about your great plan when you're the one who made it home and the other guy didn't. I have a number of colleagues and friends who are/were test pilots. Those who made it out of a failed flight when other aircrew was either permanently injured or killed have a tough time with what I would call survivor's guilt. Everyone handles it differently and rank doesn't help a bit in dealing with it or determining how it will affect someone.
Please let me know how the FOIA request turns out.
I can't remember what the glide ratio is for either the A-4E or TA-4J, searched for it, never found it, but found some amazing stories to read.
Hours after starting this reply, I continue... wife attack!
I've also set aside any negative feelings towards the CDR. That was probably the hardest speech he had endured in his life. I'll bet he is haunted by the fact that the recovery of the fallen bird was near Grade Island, just at the mouth of the bay. I have no doubt there was justified fear of an unmanned A-4 reaching the overpopulated Olonogapo City, or as you indicated the base or her ships at bay, and the LT may have nosed down last minute before attempting to eject. In fact, a few negative G's could explain inability to eject.
If they had a do-over, knowing the outcome of what they did, I'll bet they would have just hung a left and punched out with the programmed sequence, sending the bird into the 8000+ ft China Sea trench. They probably thought a relight would be easily accomplished. As a fix-it-man, that would be my call.
To lighten it up (maybe), the lava flow straight north of Olonagpo (the white thing) was where I lived up to 1985. I was in hog heaven, there. A beautiful view of the mountains across the rice patties, and about a 1/2 mile ride to get my dirt bike on the intertwining and never ending caribou trials in the mountains. The ride was about 1/4 mile of gravel road, cross a crick (sic), then another 1/4 mile or so across a dried (unirrigated) rice patty that was used as a road to retrieve mango's. Hop, hop, hop, hop across the dried mud dividers. That was Mangajon, Castelleajos, named for the abundance of mango trees. I hit the trails most days before working night shift.
AW (after wife) I moved about halfway between Subic and Olongapo. I still ventured on the old trails, and many others, but I often hit a trial that at that time started at National Highway, alongside the bay. Now would start right by the last "o" in Barreo Baretto.
It's funny that I would end up at a sort of a fence, before the 800 ft drop down to the copper mine, which appeared lifeless. That would be about 1600 ft, then the mine about 800ft I believe this would be the bottom right of the following image. I would be at a half tank of gas and had to go back at this point. Had we google earth in the 80's, I would have known there was a town about 2 miles away with gas, food and likely beer.
The trial is mostly gone now, from disuse. It was probably active until the town sprouted up, many years before I rode it. I was once a truck road, but there were huge boulders on much of it, making it inaccessible to even a large truck with 4WD, or even a 6x6 (common there). Being in my 20's, I was dumb enough and perfectly happy to run this trial along. I met some interesting people on the trial. A band of Negritos with bolos, blow darts and fat hand rolled cigarettes (I guess it was tobacco). I was checking my gas, felt like I was being watched, looked up and there they were, with poopie eating grins. Without hesitation, I gave them my cigarettes and they were happy. We had absolutely no common language, not even Tagalog/Filipino. They did not seem interested in Jonny-soup once they had some good US smokes. I used to stop by a fellows nipa hut almost back to the highway, a few miles out. He owned a bolo, one pot, one plate and one spoon. I was dehydrated when we met and he watered me. I took pics of him and his family and later returned some prints. Stopped by every ride thereafter with candy for the kids or something small to me but huge to them to improve their life... a towel, a few plates, etc. It was fun!