On the bow cats, the lieutenant junior grade saw a yellow-shirted director walk up to his jet, with a single light want pointed up: “Is your jet up?”
The JG took his red-lensed flashlight out of his chest harness, fumbled for a moment before turning it on and then moving it in a rapid circle: “Up jet.” The director responded with an upward thrust of his wand, followed by brushing motions across his forearms: “Off chocks and chains,” followed by crossed wands over his head: “Hold brakes.” The young pilot felt his heart jump in his chest. He’d heard that in the old days, during Vietnam, there had been an experiment wherein the attack pilots were wired to measure their pulse during combat, as a way of determining their stress levels. It had surprised the flight surgeons to discover that, almost to a man, all of the pilots had manifested higher pulse rates during their approach to land aboard the carrier at night than they had during final attack run of a defended target under flares, with the terrain rushing up to meet them as they refined their targeting solutions in 45 degree bomb runs, the altimeter unwinding crazily even as the SAMs and AAA rose up to meet them. He didn’t have any idea how that might have felt, the JG reflected. But he knew that his heart rate had to be at least a hundred and twenty just at the signal to break down the jet’s chocks and chains. Once he started rolling forward, he’d be committed to the cat. Once on the cat, he’d have to launch. Once airborne, he’d have to land. And he hadn’t been landing very well lately. He knew he didn’t have many more chances to prove that he could. You either hack it or you don’t, he thought. Sooner or later, non-hacks get scraped off. Nothing personal. Just business.
A Hornet rattled down Cat-3, afterburners shouting in the darkness. ‘departure, 304 airborne,” said his commanding officer.
“Roger 304, passing angels two-point-five, switch Red Crown, check in.”
“304.”
The squadron CO rolled to Red Crown, the check-in frequency for the strike group’s air defense commander, “Red Crown, Dragon 304 up for a parrot/India.”
‘stand-by Dragon,” came the controller’s reply, followed shortly by, ‘say posit?”
“Red Crown, Dragon 304 is Mothers, ah…” looking down at the horizontal display between his g-suited legs and verifying the TACAN data, “Mothers 340 for 7, passing angels six.”
‘dragon 304, Red Crown, sweet and sweet, cleared to proceed.”
“304.”
Back on the flight deck the JG raced through as much of his take-off checklist as he could with the wings still folded:
‘sEAT” ” Armed, the ejection seat was a handle pull away from blowing the canopy off over his head, catapulting him into the sky before the rocket motor fired, vaulting him further in to space before the ballistic firing of his drogue “chute, which in turn would pull his main parachute out of the headbox behind him. This would carry him safely back to the flight deck, where in 25 knots of wind he would be dashed against something sharp or unyielding, or flung into a propeller, or into the waiting sea below, ensnared in his parachute lines and gasping for air. No, he though. Let’s don”t eject on deck if we can avoid it.
“RADALT” ” set at 40 feet. If the radar altimeter went off and he wasn”t positively climbing it’d mean he’d somehow lost thrust or taken a soft shot ” it’d be time to stroke the blowers and jettison external stores, maybe even eject depending upon the rate of descent. Which was always hard to tell at night.
“TRIM” ” trim set 16 degrees nose up on the stabilators, rudder and aileron neutral, rudders check for 30-degree toe-in. The nose up trim sets the rate of capture for optimal flyaway angle of attack. With a properly trimmed jet, it would be a hand’s-off cat shot, with the flight computers setting the climb attitude.
“HARNESS” ” check locked. The FA-18 cat shot is a rowdy ride, and if he wasn”t strapped in he’d be sitting sideways at the end of the stroke and there was the yellowshirt with lighted wands beckoning to him, “Come Ahead,” followed by “Turn Left,” and “Harder” finally “Hold left brake!” and the jet sharply pivoted down the starboard side of the bow, the wind over the deck helping to push his aircraft’s nose through the darkness before “Hold Brakes!”
Knowing what was coming next the JG quickly flipped a switch to cool the AIM-9M sidewinders on his wingtips and now another series of signals from the director, ‘spread wings,” “Hook down,” and finally “Hands up.”
With the wingspread engines shaking the jet slightly he selected IR missile on the stick-mounted weapons select switch to hear a reassuring, sibilant hiss in his headset, the sound of a cooled seeker head, before throwing the hook handle down and raising his hands and arms above the canopy rail. There would be troubleshooters under his jet, manually checking his tailhook prior to launch, and his raised hands were their guarantee that the hook would not be raised while they were entangled, maiming them.
An ordnanceman passed a red-capped mag light in front of first his starboard, then his port missiles, and each of them agreed with a hearty growl that the sight was highly attractive to them, even worth dying for, if that was asked.
Everything in order, the director cleared the troubleshooters out from under before signaling, “Fold wings,” “Hook up,” and once again, “Come ahead.”
The JG re-commenced his checklist at the last confirmed step, “HARNESS” before proceeding down to “ANTI-SKID” ” Off for carrier ops, one less thing to fail and leave him in a tight spot, and anyway the only time he’d be moving fast enough to need anti-skid he’d be landing, and stopping the jet was what the tailhook and arresting wire combination was designed to do.
“LIGHTS” ” Check all rheostats dialed up to nighttime settings, but still off, controlled by the Exterior Lights Master Switch located outboard of his left throttle. “Lights on deck” indicated a brake failure for an aircraft not on the catapult and in tension, and if he turned them on now, there would be a pandemonium of hustling plane captains and tractor drivers and God-knows-who else throwing chains around his main mounts and chocks beneath his tires, desperately trying to stop the ostensibly runaway jet before it plunged into another aircraft or over the side. No, the lights master switch would wait until he was on the cat, in full tension with good engines and flight control checks. Once there, they would signal his readiness to launch.
“FLAPS” ” Half for take-off. Full flaps would provide more lift, but also more drag, and if he lost an engine on the cat shot he’d never get her flying with full flaps deployed.
“CONTROLS,” “WINGS” and “LAUNCH BAR” he’d have to wait for, wait until he was on the catapult and could spread his wings.
The Fly-1 yellowshirt, looked over his shoulder back aft and found the Fly-2 Leading Petty Officer waiting impatiently with a single lit wand in the air. With a throwing motion, Fly-1 passed taxi control of the JG’s jet to his Fly-2 counterpart, extinguished his wands and raced back forward to take control of the next fighter in the queue.
As the JG cleared the densely packed bow, there was more room to taxi between the island structure and the waist catapult foul lines, so the Fly-2 director gave him a more rapid “Come forward” signal, signaling him to move faster. The JG, like most nugget pilots, thought that he was moving towards the catapult plenty fast enough, the sense of time compression and haste was buzzing in his head. So he stolidly continued at the same speed. The yellowshirt emphasized his desire for speed with a single twirling wand, “Kick it up!” before raising the boom mike of his radio set to his lips with his other hand.
Talking to the Air Boss in the tower no doubt, the JG thought to himself, squirming a bit and momentarily flicking his eyes up to the darkened windows of the Air Boss’s domain. The Air Boss was another of the men who would decide his fate; between his CO, the Air Wing Commander, the ship’s Captain and the Air Boss was a hundred years or more of aviation experience. The JG could imagine the Boss hearing the report of a laggard on the waist, flicking his eyes up to the status board and reading the JG’s name next to the side number 311. Remembering from the night before, the long, long recovery that seemed to go on and on. Ah yes, he would think – our problem child.
The JG bumped the power up a bit, moving faster now, thinking, There’s famous and infamous. Some guys get to be both, but not lieutenants junior grade. JG’s were either one or the other.
Another pass, this time to the Fly-3 Petty Officer all the way aft, who took control and immediately gave the JG the ‘slow down” signal. Wish you guys would make up your mind, he thought as he stood on the rudder mounted brakes, but then a hard ‘stop ” hold breaks!”
The fully loaded FA-18 skidded on the greasy, sweating flight deck, only coming to a complete stop when the nose tire hit the number four wire, still facing aft. The JG could see his new yellowshirt dancing and cursing in anger and disgust. The wire would serve as a kind of chock to the nose tire, and he’d have to clear out all the space behind the FA-18 in order to get her pilot to throttle up enough to get over it. At that kind of power setting, men could be blown over the side and loose equipment hurled through space, it was dangerous, and it would take time. With the JG being the last jet but one to launch (and that last one launching off the bow cat), the lights of the first jet on the next recovery visible at five miles, time was not on his side, the yellow shirt fumed. A foul deck wave-off in the making.
He gave the JG a “Come forward” signal, followed by “Throttle up.” The JG bumped the throttles forward, sweating in the darkness, bumped them again. Seventy percent RPM. Still no movement. His director emphasized, “Throttle up!” but the JG knew he was at his Squadron Operating Procedure taxi limits, keyed the radio mic, called the Boss, “Boss, 311 stuck on the four wire.”
‘stand-by 311,” and the JG could imagine the shouting on the 5MC, the Air Boss screaming for everyone to get the hell out from behind the stalled Hornet on the waist, to be heads up. Once again the JG imagined the Boss checking the number “311″ on his status board against his name, adding another grain of sand to the pile on the balance scale. The JG’s face reddened, thinking about it. I followed their instructions. It isn”t fair.
“Follow your director 311″ came the Boss’s strained voice on the radio, and with Fly-3 gesturing madly for him to add power he bumped the throttles up to 75% – the sound was madly loud on the flight deck – before the jet finally leapt over the arresting wire.
‘slow down!” and “Hard right turn,” before passing him to the Cat-3 taxi director. “Come forward,” and ‘small right turn,” “More,” getting his jet aligned with the catapult track, small head motions accompanying the lighted wands, ‘slow down,” and ‘stop.”
The JG looked past the cat director into the inky darkness and could feel his heart thundering in his chest, looked around the cockpit for a moment wildly, almost hoping to find a fault, some reason to not go flying, this thing he had dreamt of doing since he was ten years old. Fought down a wave of what he preferred to think of as nausea, but knew in his secret heart was a combination of professional and physical fear.
“Launch bar down,” and ‘spread wings,” his director signaled as an EA-6B Prowler roared overhead in the landing configuration, wheels, flaps, slats and hook down. A foul deck wave-off the JG thought. Now he”ll have to do it all again. My fault. Stupid.
“Come forward” and the JG bumped the throttles up again, felt the fighter’s nose twitch right, the launch bar now steering it down the cat track to the waiting shuttle. Beneath him he knew, a green shirted cat crewman was hooking up the hydraulic holdback fitting that would keep his jet from rolling once at full power and in tension with the brakes off ” only when the cat fired would it regretfully release its clutch, but none of this could he see, it was out of his field of view and anyway he was mesmerized by the moving wands, come forward, come forward, come forward.
Crossed his wands above the director’s head – ‘stop.”
The yellow shirt looked forward ” angle deck clear, looked aft, jet blast deflector raised, looked to the deck edge ” “thumbs up” from the deck edge operator.
As though it was the most natural think in the world, the director casually uncrossed one wand laid it flat forward, pointing towards the end of the cat ” ‘deck edge take tension,” the other wand straight up ” “Full power – Off brakes.” The JG slammed the throttles to the military power stops as the jet squatted lower under the catapult load, the launch shuttle at war with the holdback fitting, everything in a shrieking, shaking state of uncertain balance with most of all the engines howling for release.
Another signal from the director, “Launch bar up!” and it’s not going anywhere, not with the shuttle grasping at it and the JG was back to his checklist, shouting in his own head to hear himself think above the whirlwind of noise, the shaking of barely restrained violent forces, his own breathing harsh now, echoing through his O2 mask, “CONTROLS” ” FREE AND CORRECT!, “WINGS” ” SPREAD AND LOCKED, and now his eyes flicked over to the engine panel ” Exhaust Gas Temperature in the Green, RPM nominal, Oil Pressure good, Nozzles closed, good hydraulics, no cautions or warnings and now it could not be delayed any longer, now was the time. He looked outside to see that the yellowshirt had passed control to the Catapult Officer who stood there with seemingly endless patience as the FA-18 screamed in the darkness like a trapped beast in a snare.
It was such a little thing to do, and so he did it: Reached over with his left pinky to flick the External Lights Master Switch to the on position. Thinking with wry humor that a night cat shot was a kind of IQ test ” you turn your lights on and you fail.
Committed now he rested his helmet back against the seat box, braced the throttles up against the stops with his left arm, raised his right hand to the canopy rail handle and waited for the shot which came, as it always did, with unexpected, almost unimaginable violence.
In a screeching mist of noise and steam, shaking and bouncing in the cockpit like a rag doll as the jet went from a standstill to 165 MPH in two and a half seconds, he fought against the acceleration to look at his HUD, hoping to see three numbers in the airspeed box. With three numbers he could fly, said a prayer so abbreviated that the only word in it was “God” and finally she fell off the edge, released by the catapult and he was flying, flying, flying. A good shot.
“311 airborne.”
“311, Departure, roger. Passing angels 2.5 switch Red Crown, check in.”
“311.”
Excellent as always.
I understand about trimming an aircraft but what does “rudders check for 30-degree toe-in” mean?
Thanks, Lex. I needed that.
I am watching TOPGUN….It is so bad its good. I HATE Tom Fuze…Waddya THink ? I used to roadrace M/C’s and I hate Tom Cruise in that racing movie, you must hate this movie more than stink.
Lex,
Once again..no one is better at capturing the moment..
Absolutely tremendous..
Wow! Thanks for the taste of your world. I almost felt like I was there….
Balancing ball on nose, clapping flippers- arf, arf!
I reckon technology has superseded the lighted weight board at the cat track.
I remember well that 700 millisecond lag after the shot before the RADALT and VSI catch up to the jet- it’s called “faith”!
B2
Shipmates,
That’s some damned fine writing. I can close my eyes and catch of whiff of JP in the salt air….
Lex, for what it’s worth, I can fully understand the butterflies of a night approach, heck, of just making sure the bird was gonna fly when it was thrown off the deck.
It was also a tad bit nerve-wracking sitting behind the Pilot in an S-3, with just a small little window to see the world from and listening to the approach controller’s voice in your helmet.
What’s fun these days is taking a commercial flight, and being able to pretty well guess which pilot was Navy trained:) Get over the numbers and drop it on the deck, hit the thrust reversers and take the first turnoff… still get that adrenaline rush, although I DO SO hate riding in the back of the bus sans chute and hardhat… sigh …
It’s interesting, that I can forget so many things as I get older, but than I can close my eyes and still hear the sound of an Allison or APU spooling up, smell the JP-5 and feel the seat. I can still hear, and taste, and feel so many things, and sometimes it’s just some little thing, some word or a crackle on the radio, or even a momentary splash of color
that brings it back to life. Thanks for posting this. It’s really great stuff.
Respects,
AW1 Tim
(former)
Outstanding(!!!) segment Lex – I especially like the line about turning on the lights being the sign of failing an IQ test.
As an E2 NFO – which has a bit of a different training track then some of the other communities – my first time out on the boat was with my operational squadron and I was too new and lacking in professional knowledge (read ?
Outstanding(!!!) segment Lex – I especially like the line about turning on the lights being the sign of failing an IQ test.
As an E2 NFO – which has a bit of a different training track then some of the other communities – my first time out on the boat was with my operational squadron and I was too new and lacking in professional knowledge (read “stupid”) to really understand just how dangerous what we were doing was – especially at night. Having dreamed about being in that environment all my life (even after having my eyes go to 20/200 on me) it was all just so very cool – at first.
I got over that pretty quickly, though. I used to think thoughts similar to your JG’s when the cat went into tension at night, “After wanting to be here all my life, after all the hard work and sweat to get here…you know, I really DON’T want to be here right now.” It got worse when the cat fired, and peaked at the end of the stroke when the there was that moment of truth and the ship had done all she could for you and you waited for the props to get a good bite and pull you into a positive rate of climb.
Then it went away for a while, until you were back at the top of the stack with a push time that afforded you the luxury of listening to pretty much the entire recovery before you started down the chute yourself. A quiet night on the LSO channel usually meant things were OK, but when there were lots of calls you knew it was going to be ugly. The typical prayer went something like “Dear Lord, please grant me a calm sea and a commander’s moon, for my plane is so big and the deck is so small, and that nugget in the left seat has no confidence.”
I can still remember just how good the firm tug of the wire felt after a night that included a bad pass, then a hook skip, then a seat swap to get the hapless nugget out of the seat so the PIC could get us down.
Thanks for bringing it all back in Technicolor! What happens next?!
Well, glad you all liked it. (And no B2 – they still do the weight board – I forgot. Oops!)
Idaho Joe, the rudders of an FA-18 tail inwards for take-off and landing. Lesse: Hold your hands up in front of you, say six inches apart, palms facing each other – a mini “touchdown” sign, if you will. Now rotate your upper forarms and wrists so that your thumbs get closer to each other, while your pinkies move further away from each other. Do this for 30 degrees and you are now visualizing (from behind) the rudder toe-in of an FA-18, the rudders of course being the trailing edge moveable surfaces of the fixed vertical tails.
The toe in helps to rotate the nose up – actually it pushes the tail down, but the effect is the same – on a bolter. Gets you flying again more quickly.
A possible typo (and a question)
“Knowing what was coming next the JG quickly flipped a switch to cool the AIM-9M sidewinders OR his wingtips…”
Lex, if you have a chance, I would be interested in your opinion on this article.
“Noting over half a century of U.S. Army success with warrant officer program, the U.S. Navy has decided to try it. Sort of. The navy has asked interested sailors to apply for 30 flying officer slots in patrol, electronic warfare and helicopter aircraft. These pilots would remain pilots their entire careers. ”
http://www.strategypage.com/htmw/htlead/articles/20060206.aspx
thanks for another great installment.
Thanks for a good catch, Scott.
I’ve noted the flying warrant officer issue, and even commented upon it over at The Middleground. I’m a little loth to discuss it here, since I’m not entirely sure I approve of what I take to be the motivation behind it – saving money.
Shipmates,
Well, the Navy used to have a number of enlisted pilots, used not only for support but combat as well. The last one retired, I believe, in the 1970′s. I would fully support a return to that program, not the least of reasons to save money.
For example, I was an AW, an “Anti-Submarine Warfare Operator”. I was also a Petty Officer First Class (an E-6 for the non Navy types). My job was to operate airborne sensor systems including passive and active sonar, radar and ecm/esm systems, camera systems, FLIR, and anything else that could be slung on the aircraft to help locate track and fix a target.
In addition, I had a collateral duty as a rescue swimmer on plane guard duties. Other jobs also included (with P-3 Orions) fueling, helping to load expendable stores, preflighting my systems, and removing all the plugs and ribbons, plus putting them back when we put the bird to bed.
I also had to attend the briefing and debreifings, maintain currency for NATOPS, keep up with all the intel briefs, and attend refresher schools on a regular basis.
In every other Navy of the world, this job was done by a Commissioned Officer, but in the US Navy, it was an enlisted man, and we did some damned fine work.
My roommie, at one command, not only was also an AW1 like me, but had a commercial multi-engine rating as well, through prior civilian training.
The aircrew went through the same survival courses as the Officers, the same SERE school, Water Survival, etc. The only difference was in the pay scales and the responsibility invested through Commission that the Officer had.
The only reason I did not get into the Enlisted Commissioning program and obtain an NFO slot was that I busted up my back and legs in a loading accident and that permanently grounded me. It also caused me to be discharged due to injuries. Ah well…
What I am saying is that there is no reason to NOT trust an aircraft to an enlisted man, providing he has the same skill sets (physical emotional and inyelligence) that the Officer has. We trust these young men and women to maintain them, to service them, and arm them and fuel them. They become brake riders, NATOPS evaluators and division LPO’s and CPO’s. Why not let them become pilots as well?
Respects,
AW1 Tim
(former)
Thanks for the clarification Captain. I guess you tip your vertical stabilizers out and you end up with some of the force being in the pitch axis in addition to yaw. Kind of like a Beech Bonanza with added horizontal stabilizers.
Aren’t airplanes cool?
I’ve always had a passion for aviation, and great admiration/respect for Naval aviation. I was 13 years in as a Supply Corps officer, but my dream had been to fly. (Color vision ding on the FALANT test). I resigned my commission three years ago to pursue my own business, but I stay in tune w/ my Navy buds as much as I can.
After a submarine tour and my first shore tour, I had the best time aboard USS NIMITZ (CVN-68) as the S-8 officer, followed by S-1 officer. Vultures row was my favorite place, and my stateroom was 03-180-4-L right under the 3 & 4 cats, next to the VS-33 guys. If I could do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat. I’ll never forget the power, and sensations of cats & traps on deck as a spectator… just wish I could have experienced it all from the left, right, front or back seats (depending on T/M/S).
Thanks for “putting me in the cockpit” with the thread above… On the outside, I’ve earned my private/instrument/commercial/multi-engine, and am now going for my CFI, but there can’t be any comparison to carrier ops.
I’ll never experience Naval aviation it first-hand in the cockpit at this point, but that’s a regret I’ve had to learn to live with, beyond my control. My thoughts are with you guys though… Fair winds & following seas.
-Tom
re- “warrant officer program”
I’m retired and can “shoot off my yap about most anything”.
Short version- I read the announcing message and the rationale behind it.
Another stunt.
There are literally thousands of well qualed and prime age aviation candidates out there- some who read this blog I’d wager.
We’ve done this with officers before- remember the LD program of the 1980′s? (didn’t work-few made 0-5) How about the the regurgitated NAVCAD program . Worked good for a while, while the airlines were hiring. The only program that worked was the NESEP program but that cost too much (college tuition) and the bar was too high (candidates had to major in hard science or engineering)
This on the other hand, IMO, isn’t warranted base on attrition or accesions. The way I see it the navy Shoe leadership looked around at the Army (they have warrant helo pilots), did a cost benefit (salaries) and because they were Shoes they said do it. The senior aviators probably don’t like it but they said is it worth lying down intraffic for 30 slots? (if they can fill ‘em) and rolled over….Ask the Marines if they are going to emulate it.
Stunt.
Just a forerunner for the future UAV/UCAV dream out there. Mark my words, carrier aviation will be killed by those within our own organization not the USAF.
(donning kevlar vest and carrying broadsword)
B2
Lex, magnificent story telling, once again… got my heart racing.
Thanks everyone for the comments about NCO pilots.
FWIW, I see no problem with qualified NCOs flying (I’m also a civilian and not a pilot so what do I know).
I thought the interesting question was, is it necessary for pilots to also be leaders.
In reply to Scott’s interesting question… and in response to badbob’s comments on NCO flying, this won’t be a popular rebuttle, but it is just my own humble opinion:
“Is it necessary for pilots to also be leaders?” Well, if we’re paralleling the word “officer” with “leader” then I think we’re heading down the road on a false premise. Now, don’t get me wrong, because I was an officer myself… and by the time I reached Lieutenant Commander, I’d like to believe that I was a leader. (Based on some of the challenges I’d faced and overcame along the way, I think I can assert that I was.) But that’s not to say that the NCO’s (or even some of the junior enlisted, for that matter) aren’t leaders.
In fact, I have seen some of the STRONGEST leadership in the Navy come from the Chief to Master Chief ranks (E6 to E9 ranks, for non-Navy). Many times, some junior officer “leader” applied their lack of common sense or experience to a situation, had to turn to their LCPO, give the panicked “help me” look, and recover. Part of that is from inexperience, and is overcome with time/age. But you can’t teach common sense.
Many (most) of the Navy is made up of younger folks. So when a LTjg or new LT is in the cockpit, they still may not have developed characteristics we define as part of leadership.
Along that line, acting as Pilot in Command (PIC), they may have a small flight crew to be in charge of, but it’s not the same as having a department of 130 men and women to lead. So is leadership what defines who should be a pilot? Or is it the ability to handle and airplane, follow instructions, and apply situational awareness/common sense? To a large extent, I believe it’s the latter group of traits.
When you’re talking about handling a squadron, wing or group, it can be a different story, but then again, you’re also talking about more seasoned pilots (hence older and more experienced) being in those leader roles.
So, personal opinion, if an NCO (Warrant) is handed an airplane and can fly it, why not? It does go against Navy tradition, and it does pose a job security threat to the officer community… but let’s address those questions/issues separately– the ability to put ordinance on target and handle an airplane is not something indigenous to the officer community… and neither is leadership.
Great thread, all.
-Tom
IMHO, the Navy has quite enough “classes” already, between airmen/seamen/firemen (apprentices), petty officers (journeymen) , chief petty officers (masters), junior officers, senior officers and flag officers.
Now we’re going to create a class of senior petty officers, chiefs and warrants that are pilots but not officers. They will be equal in the air (eventually even “pilots in command”) of other officers, but will not have their career opportunities. They will be quite literally doing the same job but being paid less for it. It’ll be ‘B2′ and ‘Lex’ in the air, but Chief and Lieutenant on the ground, “see you after I get out of the wardroom and how was the food in the CPO’s mess?”
In that CPO’s mess there will be those who fix airplanes and now, those who break them.
In the TACAIR community at large we will have squadrons which are “too good” for enlisted pilots, since we are making commanding officers with flag potential. And then there will be those “other,” support squadrons. You know: The ones with no real potential.
And we’ll save a little money on retirement costs. Chiefs are so much cheaper than captains to retire.
Just can’t call me a fan, I guess.
Re: the class system
How was it when the Navy did have enlisted pilots, back before WWII?
>How was it when the Navy did have enlisted >pilots, back before WWII?
here is a good Korean era perspective…
http://www.usgennet.org/usa/topic/preservation/journals/pegasus/peg-pro.htm
I have been traveling the last couple of day but, I wanted to thank everyone for the follow-ups to my question.
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