At the risk of offending the world I will share my conviction that there are essentially three kinds of pilots in TACAIR – tacticians, show-offs and engineers. Well, there are also plumbers and farmers, but my tale does not concern them.
Most of the engineers look at flying as an exceptionally complex mathematical problem. They know that if they could only control for all the decision variables and fully understand the constraints, that the linear application of force “x” will always result in desired output “y.” They get a distant, dreamy expression in their eyes when they talk about things like “mean aerodynamic chord line,” and the “Reynolds number.” Discussions on the implications of Bernoulli’s Law can send them into raptures, but they never quite understand why – despite their superior understanding of the machine and the fluid in which it operates – they so very often end up defensive in a 1v1, looking over their shoulder as their adversary closes to guns. Engineers pray at the altar of Test Pilot School.
Many showoffs live for the glamor of flying, their joy comes in the joy they give, the excitement that reflects back upon them by their acts of aerial derring-do. A showoff always needs an audience and if he does not have one, he will either create one in his own imagination – “if they could only see me now” – or he will practice for the time when he does have one: “Wait ’til they see this!” They are very often excellent aviators because they are always on stage, always performing, even if only in their own minds. Showoffs pray at the altar of “dynamic air demos” at air shows, and the very best, most motivated and most affable will end up as high priests at the temple of the Navy Flight Demonstration Squadron – the Blue Angels.
Finally we come to tacticians. A true tactician lives only to fight, he devotes himself to the art and science delivering precisely aimed ordnance – whether it be air-to-air or air-to-mud – exactly upon the point of maximum effect. Tacticians tend to be somewhat boring, fixed and even grim devotees of arcane knowledge – they bury their heads in the employment manuals, spend hundreds of hours analyzing the threats, learn how to maneuver their airplanes and those of others to optimize their lethality. They’re smart and they’re hard and they can be tricky bastards: They’ll scratch and claw for the slightest advantage, attempt to get into your head from thirty miles away just to mess with you and they’re not above cheating because they know deep in their hearts that in combat there are no points for second place, and that you will fight like you have trained. Tacticians worship at the altar of their typewing weapons schools, and their high priests are the shaolin monks who stride the prestigious halls of the original: The Navy Fighter Weapons School – TOPGUN.
There are no engineers in the showoff cohort, and damned few showoffs are actual tacticians, although some will for a time pretend to be. And while there is some cross-over between the engineer and tactical pools, I only ever knew of one man who was first a tactician – and TOPGUN instructor – before achieving the eminence of showmanship: He became a Blue Angel. His callsign was “Cato,” and I guess you could say that his flying career was blessed. He was a Marine FA-18 pilot at the school back in the early 90′s, built like an Adonis with piercing eyes and a Buzz Lightyear jawline. Women tripped over themselves to get next to him and men wanted to be his friend. He was a damned good pilot and instructor too. It almost wasn’t fair.
There was a deep undercurrent of tradition at TOPGUN, a reverence for those who had gone before, taking at least 5 enemy aircraft with them to earn the coveted title of “ace.” There was an equal opportunity pantheon of dashboard saints to which the Jedi masters and their paduan learners made obeisance: Israeli Air Force fighter pilots had equal billing with World War I German aces, and the words of each of them, and all the others, had an almost mystic power over the school’s devotees. For many years after the Phantom had gone into the night, but before the Hornet had ascended to the throne, the place was run by Tomcat pilots and RIOs, guys who could take lethal shots into bad guys at such long ranges that the bandits themselves wouldn’t even be in radar range to know that they were in trouble. But deadly as the F-14 might have been at a distance, the jet was a beast in a close-in fight, especially the vanilla F-14A model. It was awkward, underpowered, and had terrible slow speed handling qualities, a series of deficiencies only remedied when they re-engined the jet for the A+, B, and D versions. And all of them had huge visual signatures, a distinct disadvantage in a turning fight.
But fighter pilots who want to win – and there aren’t any other kind – don’t blame their gear for holding them back, they find a way to succeed despite it. And so it was that one of the more famous quotes to grace the halls of the school to somber approbation was this one by the Red Baron himself, Baron Manfred Von Richtofen:
“The quality of the box matters little. Success depends upon the man who sits in it.”
You saw it on photographs in the hallway, on lecture screens and heard it in conversation during debriefs. It was as close as you could come to dogma. The attitude behind those words explained a great deal about why good F-14 crews could be as successful as they were in training and when the opportunity arose to execute in combat. They believed in themselves because they had to – you want that spirit in your fighter pilots.
Back in the mid-90′s, when TOPGUN instructors flew as bogeys they had two choices, the powerful and shark-like F-16N or the trusty A-4F Super Fox, or “Scooter.”
Now, the Viper pretty much had it all: Thrust-to-weight, digital flight controls, reliable engine, clamshell canopy and a reliable, if relatively underpowered radar. It was a handful when flown by a competent pilot, and the TOPGUN instructors were thoroughly competent. The Super Fox on the other hand, was sneaky mean. It had a huge engine for a small airplane – it had been re-purposed from the much heavier EA-6B line – and was an exceptionally agile slow speed jet in good hands, although you had to respect the jet. It would gladly break a plumber’s neck, throw him to the curb and snarlingly spit on his corpse. But most of all, it was a pilot’s airplane: You got out of it what you put into it and there were no flight control computers to make Mongo look good.
One day Cato was out flying red air against some students in the class, and, having completed the first hack, the bandits were marshalling for the second push. He didn’t show up at the rendezvous, and neither the flight lead nor the bandit range control officer could contact him on the radio – they assumed that the A-4′s somewhat brittle radios had crapped out forcing Cato to work his way clear of the fight and back to Yuma for a comm-out approach and landing. It wasn’t until they’d finished the second hack and were heading back to get set up for the third that one of the bandit sections saw the oily smoke and ground fire characteristic of an jet airplane crash.
The lead bent his jet around and slowed it down, looking around the wreckage, looking for some sign of life. On his second pass of the crash site, he saw Cato standing like an oak tree a couple hundred yards away from the fire with his legs spread and his helmet tucked under his arm, not a hair out of place. A sheriff’s truck was barreling down a dirt road to pick him up. He was OK.
It turned out that as he was clearing the first merge, he’d turned hard to engage a Tomcat that hadn’t even seen him. His jet had recently come out of maintenance for an engine replacement, and somehow the mechanics had contrived to re-assemble the jet improperly. It broke in two under his g-application, right at the fuselage joint. One moment he was crossing a Tomcat’s tail with an advantage, the next moment he’d left his wings and engine behind and was tumbling through the air, encased only in a suddenly uncomfortable cockpit. Ejection made good sense, and fortunately he wasn’t much barked up by the experience. The sheriff even took a picture of him standing in front of the still-burning wreckage, a smile tickling the corners of his mouth.
That photo also graces the halls of the prestigious Navy Fighter Weapons School to this day, unless I am much mistaken. On the matte is this quote:
“The quality of the box matters little. But it does matter.”
True.
The officers at Topgun were many things-but being a monk was not one of them.
Well, yessir, obviously it does matter. If I may share another quotation, which I saw on “Yes, Minister”, years ago:
“Everything is connected to everything else.” – Lenin.
Meaning, that whoever put that airplane back together after working on it should have been more careful, and why wasn’t he more careful, and…
Oh, on the “types.” I damn betcha that the tacticians with engineering (borderline autistic) tendencies are both more likely to come home alive, and also more likely to do horrendous execution upon the Enemy. The social show-offs, not so much. Of course you don’t need to show off if you are objectively really good at what you do.
On,on the Reynold’s Number: I had an interesting conversation with a urologist, one time (his bachelor’s degree was in aeronautical engineering) about laminar flow and turbulence in the urine stream. I think we were discussing leaving the seat up, or down, depending on the viscosity of the liquid, and whether, and how much, splash there would be.
If you drink enough beer, the laminar flow goes all the way to the bowl. Assuming you can hit it, at all.
Oh, TAWNS! (The above was no sh*t!)
Long read, but great punchline!
Wonderful story…Question for you, Lex:
How are the Union’s plans coming to forestall the introduction of UCAVs? I mean, you’re gonna have to get to this issue quickly, while the momentum is still on the side of you and Cato’s stories like this.
Somehow, a picture of a 4 eyed “kid” in front of three 30″ wide screen LCD displays, virtual reality (MILSPEC grade) helmet clearly on the desktop, next to the “spaceball” 3D controller, with several empty Redbull cans and a few pizza boxes in the trash can just don’t seem right for the future of Fighter Weapons School Hall of Fame Ace pictures…Ya know what I mean?
How about give us the gouge on the inside track of how that battle is going? You know the engineers want to be you guys…and that’s how they might achieve parity…:)
My favorite Red Baron quote:
“Those who are afraid to take the next step will have wasted their entire previous journey.”–Baron von Richthofen
That and something about ‘overcoming the inner schweinhund’…
Call it Prussian Zen
Cool post.
Would I be correct to assume you tend to fall into the Tacticians camp?
Oh, sure. Blame the mechs!
Oh, sure. Blame the mechs!
How many g’s?
BTW Lex, one of my former XO/CO’s was CO of TOPGUN very early on. You probably know him or have heard of him. Hawk.
No worries, Curt. I do believe that real-world experience will always trump lamplit study, as long as there are actual humans in charge on each side of the fight. You should hear the stories I get from my sweety. She’s a classically trained (pencil and ink) draftsman, who later got into the CAD thing. She talks of younger people who have no skills of visualization in the real world who make horrible mistakes when it comes time to build things they have “drawn”, having no idea of actual physical objects and how they can’t occupy the same space at the same time. (Really!)
Now, if the nerd at the keyboard is replaced by a really sharp, fast computer, advised by a nasty devious old fighter pilot, well then we’d have the best of both worlds
Oh, and there’s no reason the old aviator can’t ride along, he being in charge of minute-to-minute strategy, the ‘puter handling second-to-second tactics.
Except, well, robots can pull 12g and stay conscious, and humans can’t. The robot can always turn inside you.
I think you might have overlooked the most pernicious and detestable type of TACAIR aircrew. This type is actually not limited to TACAIR, but rather is seen in all military communities, and in civilian life too.
I refer, of course, to the Politician. For him/her, flying airplanes is simply a means to an end. Their only concerns regarding flying is their own survival, and the only thing that excites them about it are the career opportunities it opens up for them. Documented test results and inspection summaries are what drive them, and the altar they worship at are the Battle E, Safety S, and those other awards given, not for excellence, but for successfully gaming the system.
Cap’n,
While I heartily concur with FbL, there is just one small thing I can add.
Even TOPGUN’s best get nervous when SPY-1 and SPG-62 start tossing SM-1s at them. Thus, my humble saying:
‘There are only 2 types of aircraft: those that fall out of the sky and those I haven’t shot at yet.’
Cap’n,
I say the above with all due respect.
Sir.
*snicker*
With my flying career safely behind me, I feel entirely safe in saying that I never met the SAM I couldn’t beat
JTG;
I concur, but somehow technology seems to overtake conventional wisdom…I presnt for consideration: We couldn’t build a BB now, because every one gave up on “enough” armor, so the capability faded…
I recall about 15 or so years ago hearing someone commenting on the demise of analog engineers, as the “new kids on the block” were all getting trained in digits…and look where that has taken us…
Yea, and roger on pilots not being able to take the Gs…but also consider dumping all the life support (O2, E- Seat, etc), with the weight and/or space savings…
Oh, and for the politicians….the initial argument for Tomahawk: No captive pilots to be paraded around the front pages…
Then…the technical edge of much lower radar signatures…
So…the Union needs to be on their toes, and have a “way forward” real soon now…
Sir,
Where would Col. Boyd fit into the fore mentioned categories?
I’d have to say that Boyd is one of those rare engineers who was also a tactician. Or maybe vice-versa – he developed the philosophy of the EM diagram, which is definitely an engineer’s approach to understanding air combat. But from what I’ve read, he was also a great stick, earning the moniker “Forty second” Boyd, for how long he took to vanquish an adversary.
And ProwlerGuy – a “politician” may fly fighters, but whether he believes it or not, he is no fighter pilot. Just the “man who sits in it.”
I wasn’t a showoff, FbL. Nor yet an engineer. So that leaves, what? Plumber? Farmer?
Nosce te ipsum
Lex,
Like I said, tactician.
what are plumbers and farmers, or did I miss that?
My reading of Boyd is that he was a tactician (and a show-off early in his career, witness the “Forty Second Boyd” deal) who became an engineer in order to figure out why he was such a good tactician – and how to be an even better one. But his engineering was always done with tactical aims in mind.
He was a pretty good philosopher, too.
Plumbers are guys with good attitudes but bad hands. They usually seek alternative employment.
Farmers? They gouge up the dirt. The hard way.
Great post. Though not of the lawn dart lineage I have visualized your categories.
Agree with prowler on the politician type. They don’t much care much for flying (means to an end) and they can be identified early as LTs when they utter to ya: “The Skipper says…”
C’mon Lex. I’ll bet you started off as a wannabe, too DIGNIFIED for that routine, showoff who moved on to tactician. On the other side of the coin, if you hadda suffered through TPS you would have made that transition to engineer status easily-under duress o’course.
I’ve found Naval Aviators in general to be adaptable to anything!
BTW, last night I ate dinner in a restaurant where I saw a bubba from olden times who holds the US Navy record for traps. One of the true “multi-skilled” characters of Naval Aviation. Like you. Yep- I’m on a road trip and I got to observe a bunch o’JOs being JOs. Made me feel 20 years younger..well, at least 10! As you always point out, things have changed, but not that much!
Curt- as long as I can still vote, ain’t no UCAV flying over the top o’my piece of CONUS!
B2
Lex as a plumber? Or a farmer? Yeah, right – thanks for the chuckle! Me thinks you’re right, FbL, a tactician, no doubt …. with perhaps a touch of show-off thrown in?
I knew it! I knew it!
It appears we have a Friend of Lex here! Perhaps he has some good stories that might be able to shed light on our mysterious scribe.
But then again… As Lex has informed us, he was a “Perfect Knight” as a JG, has won all battles (mock or otherwise), and was so loved by his men as a squandron XO/CO that he was never even the victim of a practical joke. So I suppose there aren’t any good stories after all…
The man is looking into the mirror, I swear. I was a plumber compared to him, and there are very few stories.
That you’d want to hear.
Chilly Winter?
I love him like a brother.
Lex, I have but one more comment on the “Categorize Lex as a TACAIR pilot” debate: They don’t send plumbers to NFWS as either students or instructors. M’kay?
Glad we understand each other.
And yes, I’m overly snarky tonight. I’m gonna go to bed before I get myself into further trouble.
G’night!
One other note about the showoffs — they also provided grist for the FNAEB mill…
- SJS
Boyd did blossom as an engineer later in life. Got all nerdy, let his grooming and uniform go to hell, was seen chewing on his hand… now that’s letting yer inner autie out!
Truth to tell, he always was a bit awkward socially, like the time he gratuitously scared those poor boys in the B-52 by sneaking up behind them and shouting Guns Guns Guns at them on the radio.
He was weird, but he got away with it by always being able to prove he was right.