I was sitting in the rear cockpit and Ahmed in the front. We saw three or four large lightning strikes off our left wing and I could tell Ahmed was getting antsy. Despite my reassurances about our safety, I could hear Ahmed muttering to himself in Farsi. When the next lightning bolt flashed, Ahmed unstrapped from his ejection seat, turned around and kneeled down on the seat facing backwards. He then began to pray. I was dumbfounded, and busy. When Ahmed decided to take his prayer break, he had been flying. Since he was no longer in a position to fly the airplane, I took over and tried to figure out what this crazy bastard was up to. He was praying because he thought he was going to die, regardless of what I told him. I guess the stress brought on by the weather shut down his ability to understand English. Once we cleared the line of thunderstorms, he stopped praying, strapped himself back in, and soon sounded like his old self.
After we landed we had a long discussion about weather, aircraft control and basic safety (not unstrapping in flight). He seemed to understand what I was telling him. Eventually Ahmed washed out of the program. He couldn’t fly in formation so he was sent back to Iran and was never heard from again.
The most important part of the contact training phase was the traffic pattern, which included takeoffs and landings. The traffic pattern consisted of specific points that all planes had to navigate over. Aircraft leaving the pattern had to follow a specific ground track. The same was true for entering the pattern. Everyone operated on the same radio frequency and called when reaching key points in the pattern. By listening, a pilot in the pattern knew where the other aircraft were. The RSU controller had the big picture. The controller issued landing clearances or go-around instructions. The ultimate responsibility for separation from other aircraft lay with the pilot. In the traffic pattern, you always kept your head moving around and your ears open. The RSU controller paid special attention to the solo students. As a controller, I knew the dual aircraft would usually do the right thing but I watched the solos and waited for them to do the wrong thing. The solos could get in trouble in any number of ways. The majority of the solo students did a fantastic job and flew without incident. It was the exceptions that warranted close scrutiny. They occasionally forgot to configure the airplane prior to the final turn, even though “gear check” was a mandatory radio call in the turn.
They would get so focused on traffic spacing, turning at the right time, or listening to the radios that they neglected to lower the gear handle and/or flaps for landing. My response was always the same: “Go Around.” So they went around and set up for another landing. The landing itself was another critical time for the solo student. The T-38 would land in a normal, nose-high attitude. This attitude was established on final approach and held all the way down to the runway while gradually decreasing power. If the student had the airplane too high off the ground, the nose kept coming up while the airspeed decreased, a dangerous situation. When I saw this developing, I would send the student around. The proper response from the student would be to lower the nose by relaxing backpressure on the stick and advancing the power to maximum. This would get the airplane accelerating again and kept it from stalling. On rare occasions, the student would attempt to keep the aircraft from touching the ground by keeping backpressure on the stick while simultaneously pushing the power to maximum. The result of this unhealthy combination was called a saber dance. During a saber dance, the airplane remains nose-high as it walks itself down the runway, swaying left and right. The airplane can’t accelerate because the pilot is holding too much backpressure on the stick. If held too long, the airplane will crash, so it’s very critical to lower the nose by relaxing backpressure
Since the maximum number of planes in the pattern was twelve, there were times when several solo students would be in the pattern together. One of our training bases was Webb AFB, Texas. One fateful day at Webb, the pattern was full, twelve aircraft. Four of these twelve were solos. Two of the solos were Iranian students. The following event demonstrates how high pressure and language barriers can combine to cause big problems. Iranian student #1 was in the final turn, gear and flaps down, all is well. Iranian student #2 was on outside downwind. Student #1 was cleared for a touch and go and he safely landed. On his go around after the landing, a long tongue of flame shot out the tail of number 2 engine. The RSU student observer called out the problem to the controller who turned and verified the fire. The controller, for whatever reason, couldn’t think of the call sign of the distressed airplane. The number of solos in the pattern may have confused the controller, but he did know that the student in the fiery aircraft was an Iranian. Knowing this, the controller said: “Iranian student in the T-38 pattern at Webb, you’re on fire, eject.” At which point, both Iranian students in the pattern at Webb ejected, one from the stricken airplane and one from a perfectly good airplane. Both students parachuted safely to the ground. Both aircraft were total losses.
My off time schedule was a full one. One of the perks of the job was being able to come home every night. My daughter Krista was four when our son Jason was born in December of 1974. Spending as much time with them was my first priority. The realities of an Air Force career cut into the family time, however. Competition among Officers was very keen and we were encouraged to do whatever we could to distinguish ourselves from our contemporaries.
There were university extension courses available at night on the base. Master’s degree programs for both business and counseling were available. I enrolled in the counseling program and obtained my Master’s degree in Counseling and Guidance within two years. I also completed the Air Force Air Command and Staff College course by correspondence. Neither of these made me a better pilot but the Air Force believed it would some day make me a better administrator. My sole desire was to fly but the Air Force had a different plan. I was willing to go along with this theory as long as I could keep flying and it didn’t force me behind a desk.
Chapter 10
The third leg of the student-flying curriculum was formation. This was my personal favorite and I didn’t try to hide my enthusiasm from my students. Some of the students were afraid of formation. It required total concentration and coordination. As tense as it may sound, to do it well, you had to relax. The harder you gripped that stick, the rougher you flew. Formation flying required the student to learn both lead and wing positions. The lead had to plan his maneuvers well in advance. He could no longer think for himself; he had to plan for two, three, or four airplanes. Staying in the assigned area took some planning. This was an easy task for one airplane. But could get a lot more complicated when three more aircraft were added to the formation. When leading a four-ship, it was lead’s responsibility to keep all his airplanes in the area. Situational awareness was a key factor in the leader’s planning.
Lead also did the clearing for his formation ensuring the airspace you were about to enter was safe. Before the flight, the lead briefed the mission. He listed the maneuvers and their sequence and also set a “bingo” fuel. This was a “return to base” fuel. Regardless of what had been accomplished on the ride, when a formation member declared “bingo,” the formation started back. Halfway into the ride, the lead would change, and the maneuvers would be repeated with a new leader. This switch ensured that students got to practice both positions.