Jet pilot in six months
Flying alone to Del Rio, Texas, gave me plenty of time for reflection. Austin's track selection ceremony would take place five years to the day after he left home to attend the Air Force Academy. Now he'd completed his first phase of Air Force pilot training. I shed tears back then and probably would again today if not preoccupied by weather. Massive thunderstorms squeezed the 20-mile-wide funnel between restricted airspace north of El Paso and the Mexican border. After battling headwinds for two nail-biting hours I ran the gauntlet unscathed. Still it was slow going; five hours after takeoff I finally landed at Del Rio International Airport.
To my delight Austin greeted me there in his flight suit. Driving to nearby Laughlin Air Force Base, he recounted his experiences flying the Raytheon T-6 Texan II trainer, a single-engine turboprop. I got a particular kick out of his first practice-area solo restrictions:
No stalls allowed, but loops, aileron rolls, and split-Ss approved and encouraged.
Having completed T-6 training, Austin and his fellow officers would now advance to one of four specialized training tracks. T-38 pilots would end up in fighters or bombers. Those assigned to T-1 Jayhawks (military version of the Raytheon Beechjet) could expect tanker or transport assignments; T-44 Pegasus pilots (Raytheon King Air) were destined to fly the four-engine Lockheed C-130 Hercules turboprop, and future helicopter pilots would train in the Bell UH-1 Iroquois. Assignments are based on a combination of preference bids, training performance, and instructor recommendations. "I'll take anything so long as I get to fly," said Austin nonchalantly, but clearly the T-38 was his goal.
Another young lieutenant joined us for dinner that night. Keith Ashford would be training in T-1s to pilot gigantic Lockheed C-5 Galaxy transports for the Tennessee Air National Guard. "There's more to a Jayhawk than painting a Beechjet in Air Force colors," he explained. Among other modifications, the T-1's ailerons are disabled--with only spoilers for roll control, the small business jet handles more like the heavy aircraft its graduates will fly.
Having seen Del Rio's sights, I talked Austin the next morning into driving along the Rio Grande to Eagle Pass, where the movie Lone Star was filmed. That bustling border town feels like it's across the river in Mexico--signs and conversation are in Spanish, and ranchero music fills the air. Store windows showcased Mexican wedding dresses and men's suits coordinated with boots and straw cowboy hats.
Back at the base that afternoon Austin had arranged a treat--a T-6 simulator session. Under the tutelage of instructor Fred Rinaldi, Austin taught me aerobatic maneuvers and the Air Force overhead traffic pattern, more complex than what we civilian pilots fly. I did OK on landings and aced an instrument approach, but bungled formation flying, never closing with the virtual lead plane I was to join. "Good work, Dad," said Austin afterward, patting my back. "In fact, you had me worried for a minute. As long as it took me to master formation flying, I'd feel pretty bad if you'd nailed it on the first try."
The long-anticipated track selection ceremony took place the following afternoon. Austin's graduating class consisted of two 13-pilot "flights," the Guns and the Jokers. It's amazing how quickly military pilots train. When I last visited four and one-half months earlier, Austin had begun ground school and sim training but had yet to pilot a real T-6. Since then, he'd passed primary, instrument, aerobatic, and formation checkrides. A slide presentation detailed the six-month program: Student pilots average 225 hours of academic instruction, 16 emergency procedure quizzes, 60 stand-up emergency drills, 45 simulator missions, and 65 aircraft sorties--including six solo flights--for a total flight time of 95 hours. First solo in the "mighty Texan II" occurred after an average 18 flight hours.
Up front the young officers squirmed and joked--after all, the next few minutes would determine their future careers. Following instructor awards, the squadron commander announced track assignments. As cheers and gasps punctuated the reading of each name and associated track, I clenched my teeth in hopes that every young officer would earn his or her dream assignment. "Austin 'Honey' Brown," proclaimed the squadron commander, "will fly the T-38 Talon."
No sooner had the ceremony ended than Austin and his T-38 compatriots were spirited away by unsmiling officers for "boldface" emergency checklist tests. No wonder military pilots complete training so quickly. There was just time for my son to high-five me and toss his car keys so I could drive myself to the airport.
I boarded the Flying Carpet totally wound up. Along with sharing Austin's elation about achieving his goal, I'd monitored growing thunderstorms all morning on his laptop. Filing an instrument flight plan, I bypassed rain showers near Marfa and ogled thunderstorms still menacing El Paso. Thankfully the doom-and-gloom forecasts never reached their full potential. I even enjoyed a tailwind on the way home.
Austin phoned upon soloing the T-38 a few weeks later. "It's mighty cool, Dad," he said. "The 250-knot speed limit below 10,000 feet is too slow for T-38s at heavier weights, so we fly at 300. Entry speed for loops is 500 knots, and 10,000 vertical feet is required to complete one." Wow! Seems that the ol' Flying Carpet is surfing our son's supersonic wake.
Greg Brown was the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year. His books include Flying Carpet, The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, Job Hunting for Pilots, and You Can Fly! Visit his Web site.
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