The Last Manned Fighter

"The MiGs will shoot as soon as they detect you. You and your wingman, Lt. Mitty, must fight your way in, destroy the target, and return to base." The briefer's name was Don Williams. He was intense, focused.

I confess, I was apprehensive. I was sitting at a table beside the F-22 cockpit concept demonstrator in a medium-sized room tucked away in the innards of a huge hangar at Lockheed-Martin's Marietta, Georgia, facility. In just a few minutes Williams intended to put me into the demonstrator, where I must fight or die. My palms were sweaty, my mouth dry.

I told Williams that my winged chariot, a Cessna 182, lacks computers, radars, lasers, afterburners, and other accoutrements. "I'm not too good with buttons," I added. His confidence in me was unshaken.

The demonstrator is a non-motion simulator of the type of high-tech, state-of-the-art, magic computer goodies that will debut in the F-22 when the stealth fighter becomes operational, an event currently scheduled for the year 2004. The pilots who will fly this fighter are currently slashing their way through the tenth grade while battling zits and braces.

As I climbed into the cockpit, Williams said, "You might want to keep an eye on the Gs." The F-22 has vectored thrust, a salesman's term for giant nozzles behind the afterburners that tilt the exhaust of the two Pratt & Whitney F119-PW-100 engines when the pilot pulls enthusiastically on the stick; the plane is capable of at least nine Gs.

Alas, nine Gs exceeds my personal limits.

"Not to worry," Williams assured me. "Today you are wearing a full-body G-suit that will keep you conscious at nine-plus Gs while the airplane pumps oxygen into your lungs."

Then the lights in the room went out. In seconds I was ripping along at 30,000 feet at full military power (100 percent rpm without afterburners) at Mach 1.22. The visibility was good as I looked through the heads-up display (HUD), and the sunlit sky was empty. I like it like that. I maneuvered the fighter with subtle, gentle pressure on the control stick, which is mounted on the right console. The stick can move only about an eighth of an inch, yet it is exquisitely sensitive to hand pressure. It is also festooned with buttons. The throttles, on the left console, are similarly decorated.

In combat the pilot will not need to remove his hands from the stick and throttles. Still, turbulence and Gs are going to make caressing that stick an art form. The airplane, of course, is fly-by-wire.

While I marveled at the smooth, precise control possible with the limited motion stick, I also was trying to adjust to the eye-popping airspeed. The astounding details were presented on the HUD. The two massive Pratt & Whitney engines allow this airplane to "supercruise"; that is, to cruise at supersonic speeds without using the burners. Although the engines' power rating is classified, the Air Force says that they will be in the 35,000-pound range. Lighting the burners on these beasts will punch this speed demon somewhere beyond Mach 2. Aerial combat at these speeds would be impossible without computer assistance: a human could not react quickly enough to stay in the fight.

The tactical situation was presented on three computer screens, called multifunction displays (MFDs) arranged across the center of the instrument panel. A fourth MFD sits between the pilot's knees, and today it shows me the weapons remaining on the airplane, their status, and assorted engine functions. These displays can be selected from a wide menu or moved between MFDs by pushing buttons arranged around the face of each screen.

Williams told me that when first designed, the MFDs had "touch screen" options — much like ordering a sandwich at Arby's — but in turbulence the test pilots liked real, mechanical buttons better.

Com frequencies are presented on a little computer screen above the left MFD, called an up-front display (UFD). Another UFD on the right presents the back-up attitude instrument, a television picture of a gyro. The primary attitude reference is displayed upon the HUD.

Now comes the best part: The F-22 has a mouse. Yep. This airplane is best described as a flying computer, one with more than four million lines of software code. The mouse, or cursor control, is located on the right throttle; by tweaking it with his forefinger and punching the other buttons on stick and throttle, the pilot can select various displays on the MFDs, designate targets, select weapons — basically operate all the systems that he needs in flight without having to reach around the cockpit.

So there I was, twiddling the mouse, caressing the limited-motion stick, supercruising through the ozone at warp seven, when four unknown targets appeared on my tactical situation MFD. I designated them with a push of a button on the throttles, and voilá, the computer gave me the bad news: MiG-29s, at 30,000 feet.

Uh-oh.

They were at my twelve o'clock, more than 100 miles away, but we were closing at 1,323 knots. Precisely.

The good news was that while I knew that they were there, they hadn't yet detected me. The F-22 is a stealth fighter, with a tiny radar cross-section. Exactly how tiny is classified.

Just for kicks, I pushed a button on the bottom of the joy stick that turned my stealthy steed into a conventional fighter, with a conventional radar cross-section. In seconds the MiGs were blasting at me with missiles, warning tones were sounding, lights were flashing; I was having a genuinely bad day. I pushed the button again to reassume my sneaky, stealthy self.

Well, now I knew. They really were bad guys.

I selected a radar-guided AIM-120C advanced medium-range air-to-air missile (AMRAAM) and waited as the range closed.

A squint through the HUD showed nothing — the bad guys were still 50 miles away.

Now! The HUD shows them in range.

I centered the target dot in the missile steering error circle on the HUD and savagely pushed the red button on the control stick. A missile popped out of the internal weapons bay and roared away in a gout of fire and smoke. The computer instantly shifted to the next villain. I fired again, and so on, until four missiles were on their way into the hazy blue nothingness.

A few seconds passed, then the MiGs started exploding.

Four missiles, four kills. All right! Who says that the lions always win?

The next mission that I flew required me to thread my way around enemy radar sites, staying just far enough away from them to remain undetected, then deliver two 1,000-pound GBU-32 Joint Direct Attack Munitions (JDAMs) on a preselected target. These weapons are a generation beyond laser-guided munitions. Screwed to the tail end of a conventional 1,000-pound green bomb are an inertial navigation system (INS) unit, a small computer, and a set of guidance fins that steer the free-fall weapon to a GPS-designated bullseye. The JDAM prototype has a 13-meter circular error probable, but the Air Force is working to bring that CEP down to three meters, which should be good enough for government work.

Supercruising at 30,000 feet, I followed computer-generated steering commands, kept my electronic eyes peeled for bad guys, and dropped the two bombs when the computer said that I was within the weapons' energy envelope. I assume that the bombs hit the target; I didn't wait around to see. Believe me, dropping bombs wasn't this easy in Vietnam. Oh, and I shot down a couple more MiGs on the way out of bad guy country.

1st Lt. Walt Mitty was my wingman on the last mission, a fighter sweep complicated by the fact that there were friendlies in the area. Mitty and I used tricky radar emitting procedures and shared computer info via a pencil-thin data link, so the enemy never knew how many of us he faced.

When I got in range, I started squirting missiles, but I was too slow. Things happen almighty fast in supersonic air battles.

The last MiG closed at a horrific speed and whanged away at me with his missiles. My computer pumped out chaff and flares as the enemy missiles streaked toward me.

The situation looked bleak. My life flashed before my eyes.

I slammed the airplane over to 90 degrees angle of bank and laid on nine Gs to pull that target dot into the missile steering circle on the HUD.

The full-body G-suit squeezed me like a boa constrictor while the oxygen system tried to turn me into a balloon.

I triggered the last AMRAAM.

Wham! It left in a blaze of fire and smoke. A second later I saw the explosion. A down-the-throat missile shot from a nine-G pull — you don't see those every day.

Ten missiles, 10 MiGs. Suck on that, Ivan.

After an uneventful ILS approach to minimums and a greaser on one of those 2-mile-long Air Force runways, I opened the canopy and shut 'er down. I was drenched with sweat. Mitty saluted me from his cockpit.

The general was there to greet us. He looked a lot like Don Williams.

"Congratulations, Lt. Coonts. The president was on the telephone just moments ago. You and Mitty have saved the world as we know it from the forces of evil. After a ticker-tape parade in New York, you'll be awarded the Medal of Honor before a joint session of Congress. And some producer called from Hollywood — he wants to make a movie of your life."

I wondered who they would cast to play me.

"It was nothing, sir," I said modestly. "All in a day's work."

"Lt. Coonts, this is the least that we can do for the world's greatest ace."

Seriously, I left the Lockheed-Martin complex that afternoon mulling several things. During the brief someone remarked that the least stealthy aspect of the F-22 was the pilot's helmet. After flying the demonstrator, I wondered why the pilot was in the airplane.

There was nothing that I did in the cockpit that a computer could not do better. In fact, the airplane cannot be flown without its computers; when the computers lock up, the pilot's only option is ejection. This is heresy, I know, but why not keep the pilot on the ground?

The F-22 may be our last manned fighter. Bouncing discrete data-linked signals off satellites doesn't seem an impossible technical challenge.

After childhoods filled with video games and Spiderman comics, tomorrow's fighter pilots will strap themselves into padded chairs in front of control consoles located deep inside Cheyenne Mountain. There they will play the ultimate video game with F-36 drones.

If a screen goes blank, we'll launch another one while our aerial warrior telephones for a pizza.

Stephen Coonts, AOPA 1056593, is the author of six best-selling novels. His latest book, War in the Air, is a collection of true flying stories; it was published in December.

Flying Computers, Civilian Style

Strap on an F-16 at the local mall

BY LANE E. WALLACE

Although the F-22 simulator is undoubtedly one of the best computer rides in town, it is also something that, in reality, few of us are ever going to get the chance to try. But thanks to advances in computer technology and some creative computer whiz-kids, a number of other options are becoming available for the general public.

In the past couple of years, a number of virtual reality entertainment companies have designed surprisingly good "flight experience" simulators that are being operated in shopping malls and stand-alone centers around the United States. Some, like the "Virtual Fighter" designed by VREC founder Greg Gustin, are patterned closely after real fighter aircraft. The Virtual Fighter, operational now in Burbank, California, has performance and behavior that approximates a hybrid of the F-16 and F/A-18 aircraft.

Other simulators, such as the X-21 Hornet "aircraft" operated by Magic Edge in Mountain View, California, are simply hypothetical high-performance fighters of the future. The cockpits do not replicate an actual aircraft, but the ride is still impressive.

For approximately $20, a customer at Magic Edge gets not just a ride, but an experience. The stand-alone center is set up to resemble an aircraft carrier, with squadron commanders and briefers in olive-drab Nomex flight suits. This is Top Gun for anyone who doesn't have the stomach, desire, or money to do actual dogfighting in a T-34 or T-6. The full-motion simulators are interactively linked in groups of eight, so you can fly with a wingman or against other participants in your group.

The cockpits have opaque canopies that close, so it is easier to get lost in the virtual world of the screen in front of you. The textured graphics presented on that screen are surprisingly good, allowing you to fly through canyons and hunt down a variety of air and land targets. The motion also is sufficient to make you feel a distinctive and uncomfortable "thud" when you crash.

The Virtual Fighter, by comparison, has an open cockpit, with the graphics presented on three large screens in front of the simulator. But the motion in VREC's newest model is sufficient to inflict up to two Gs on the pilot, and the graphics offer a variety of scenarios from carrier takeoffs and landings to blowing away the U.S. Capitol and the Washington Monument in downtown Washington, D.C.

As opposed to the fantasy military experience presented by Magic Edge or operations like Fightertown in Irvine, California, VREC concentrates on providing pure flight time. There are no briefers in flight suits and no aircraft carrier decorations. But VREC is in the process of outfitting its Burbank location with eight simulators that will be capable of interactive dogfighting.

Not all of the virtual reality simulations are dogfighting scenarios, either. A company called Virtual World Entertainment has a number of entertainment centers in malls across America, patterned in theme and decoration after a fictional "Virtual Geographic League" that is dedicated to exploring other dimensions of the universe. Following in the footsteps of such legendary members as Amelia Earhart (she disappeared, they explain, because she jumped to a different dimension), you can step into your own virtual reality space pod and travel to Mars, where you must pilot a hovercraft in a race through the planet's canals.

At the moment, there may be only a limited number of these virtual reality simulations across the country, but it appears that the industry is about to boom. Some of the simulators are fixed base, some are full motion, and they vary in terms of how much they are modeled after real airplanes. Most, for example, do not incorporate rudder pedals (although a jet fighter has arguably less need for rudder input than does a small airplane). The graphics also differ somewhat, but high-quality textured graphics are becoming the standard.

Some operations incorporate a whole theme experience, while others concentrate on just the simulator flight itself. Magic Edge and Virtual World Entertainment also offer computer printouts of your flight log, including the number of times you got shot down, crashed, or took out an opponent. Prices vary, although they generally seem to boil down to about a dollar a minute for actual simulator time.

So, okay, they're not F-22s. But after shooting down a few bogies at Mach 1, taking out Congress, evading enemy missiles, and generally rock 'n rolling in an X-21 Hornet or a Virtual Fighter for a while, one is inclined to forgive them that point.

For more information, call Virtual Reality Entertainment Centers of North America, Inc., in Burbank, California, at 818/842-8732.