By the fall of 1983, I had finished primary flight training at Whiting Field, near Pensacola, Florida. We moved up to Meridian, MS for jet training: Ground school, simulators, back seat ride for basic instrument training “under the bag”, and – finally – FAM 1. My first front seat ride in a jet aircraft.
My flight instructor for the first five or six flights – my “on wing” – was maybe a year or two older than me. A “selectively retained graduate”, or SERGRAD. A guy that had done well enough to finish in the top third of his class without being the number one graduate, the one guy promised to get exactly what he wanted. Kept behind from the fleet in order to fill gaps in the line, what with fleet pilots bailing out left, right and center for to pursue the greener fields of commercial airline flying.
It wasn’t like we were at war or anything, and the fleet bubbas had lived through some pretty austere times. The post-Vietnam drawdown had left enduring marks that Reagan’s defense buildup had yet to heal. One of my IPs had been on a nine-month deployment. In peacetime.
They’d also seen some goofy stuff, like the Bekaa Valley strike against arty tubes in Lebanon. The timing of which had been diddled with by EUCOM more to satisfy the domestic news cycle than for tactical advantage: The A-6s and A-7′s had been tasked to fly into the rising sun, attacking targets shrouded in the darkness by mountains to the east. Air defense targets. Hell, some of the strikers didn’t even have bombs under their wings, most of them weren’t really even briefed for the mission. Just get up and go, get some, good luck.
They all went. The guys with bombs to try and root around down low for small targets hidden in the shadows, targets that could bite back. The guys without bombs went right in there with them, to draw fire. Two of them got shot down, a pilot killed, another crewman captured. It was a goat rope.
I didn’t blame the instructors from bailing. Not when our gear was all broken, our people treated like commodities, the airlines hiring, and promising high six figure salaries with never a cold shower to boot. But that left me with my SERGRAD on wing. Who was kind of a jerk.
As he briefed me for my first front-seat hop, he made sure to tell me what I might do that would constitute a “down” – two or three of those and you’d be on your merry, looking for new work. “Always say ‘clear’ before opening or raising the canopy.” “Never cross the hold short without the canopy down and locked.” “Call ‘flaps clear’ before raising or lowering them, and never in more than 1/2 flap increments.” “Clear the gear going down, never report landing checklist complete without visually verifying three down and locked.”
And so on. Basic stuff, really. The kind of thing meant to keep the wind out of the wetware. But negative, always negative. Guy never smiled unless he was telling you what you’d done wrong. Like there wasn’t enough inherent stress in having an O2 mask strapped to your face, or strapping into an ejection seat atop twin turbojet engines after a mere 70 hours in single-engine turboprops.
Checklists checked and re-checked, I somehow got her started and made my way to the hold short. Triple checked that we were good to go, said the obligatory “clear canopy” on the intercom, received a “canopy clear” in return. Made double sure that the Canopy Unlocked light went out, paused, prayed, made my radio call: “Tower, Shad Niner Seven Niner, Take-off”
“Shad 979, Tower, cleared for take-off runway one nine right, winds light and variable, switch Departure.”
“Shad 979, cleared for take-off, switching.”
Throttles up, creeping forward, ready to cross the hold-short line – Boom. The throttles were slapped out of my hands to idle, the brakes abruptly applied, my instructor’s voice on the intercom, venomous: “Never take the runway without checking final for traffic.”
Geez, another “never.” And oh-so-sweetly added to the mound of “always” and “nevers”, too. I dutifully craned my head to the right, verified that there was no traffic – tower would never have cleared me for take-off if there’d been traffic about to land – and took the runway, blasting off into my future.
–
Yesterday I had Adam in the back of the wee Varga 2150, hizzoner being a young electronics technician second class from the USS Decatur, that ship homeported at 32nd Street, Naval Base San Diego. Hit the run-up area at the hold short to runway 28R, went through my checks: Throttle to 1800 RPM, check magnetos, carb heat, controls free and correct, flaps up. IFF to RPT, fuel boost on, fuel selector valves on, right and left. Noted absently – but noted – that there was a Bellanca doing touch and go’s in the pattern, heard Tower inform a Cirrus on the practice ILS approach that the Bellanca was in his crosswind turn before clearing the Cessna ahead of me for a right downwind departure.
“Tower, Top Dog One, take-off two in turn, two-eight right, straight out departure to the west.”
“Top Dog 1, Tower, cleared for take-off, runway 28R.”
“Top Dog 1, on the go, 28R,” my wingman on my shoulder. As I taxied out of the ground run-up area towards the runway, saw the Cirrus on final at a half-mile. Climbing. Completing his missed approach procedure.
“All set to go?” on the intercom, I asked of my back-seater.
“All set!”
Taxied up to the hold short, checked final for traffic – an old habit – and found the Cirrus there, looming large, moments from landing. Hit the brakes abruptly. Looked over at my wingman, who shook his head sadly. Took a deep breath, took another, keyed the radio, “Tower, I thought you’d cleared Top Dog flight for take-off?”
“Top Dog 1, hold short runway 28R!”
“Top Dog 1, hold short.” No kidding.
“Top Dog 1, complete readback, hold short runway 28R!” The Cirrus well down the runway now.
“Top Dog 1, hold short runway 28R.” Prick. After trying to kill me.
–
It’s been 25 years nearly to the day since LTJG Dave Harmon jumped on my brakes at the hold short line to runway 19R, NAS Meridian, MS and hissed at me to always check final prior to taking the runway. In all those years since, I have never once failed to do so. In over 4000 hours flying time I never once saw traffic there. Until yesterday.
Harmon’s voice has echoed in my head for 25 years, abjuring me never to trust on faith what I could verify with my own two eyes. Yesterday he reached across a quarter century and saved two lives, and for that I thank him.
Although I still think he was kind of a jerk.
He might of been a jerk, but part of it might have been his own fears, in those early days of his flying career, that he was out of his depth. Trying to teach something that he was still learning himself. Trying to write absolute rules to define and control everything in a situation where you could do everything right and still die.
Control everything you can, and leave the rest to Providence. Life is like that, too.
Great story….
My favorite never, “If you never walk through prop arc, you will never get hit by a prop.”
Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it can’t–or wont. Checklists and SOPs are usually (although God knows I’ve seen some unGodly exceptions) there for a reason–often formed by bitter experience.
Great story, lex. With your permission, I’d like to make some copies of this and distribute them to my crews, because the lesson is just as applicable in my business (railroading) as it is in yours.
Harmon’s voice has echoed in my head…and saved two lives, and for that I thank him.
Although I still think he was kind of a jerk.
Sounds about like what the Marines/Soldiers I know say about their DI/DS…
P.S. So very glad you’re safe.
And how often do we just mash down on the accelerator when the light turns green without bothering to look and see if everyone really stopped? Great lesson Lex…Thanks!
Not commented upon by Lex in his preamble about the state of the Service at the time of the Bekaa Valley Strike was that lowest of low points when the surviving captured A-6 B/N had to be “rescued” by the all knowing Jesse Jackson (Jackson the Merciful) as an “Ambassador of Goodwill” in a P.R. stunt which allowed the bad guys to bask in the light of all the “good-will”
they showed by releasing him and helped further hype Jackson’s public personae while simultaneously making the B/N personally and the Armed Forces in general look like simmering whimps. I’ll never forget that picture taken through the car window of Jackson and the slouched down, subdued B/N in the back seat being “repatriated.” A sight sickening enough to make even a Jackal wretch……
Good story, Lex. I echo Fbl’s comment and am very glad you and Adam are here today.
Great story, Lex. Yesterday, I went flying in a little-used 60′s-vintage rental Piper Cherokee, and dutifully drained the three sumps as I’ve been doing for 17 years. Lo and behold, from the left tank, a little bubble of something-other-than-fuel there at the bottom! First time I had ever seen anything but auto-or-avgas in the tester. Later, on my return leg, I smelled avgas right after takeoff, looked out at the right wing, and there was steady stream of blue fuel from the (fully tightened) fuel cap! Back to the airport, where the mechanic skillfully fashioned a replacement fuel cap gasket for me so I could get home.
Learned a bit about Pipers and their raised fuel caps on that trip, and silently thanked the guys who trained me, too. One of whom is the author of this blog, even if only through his occasional written thoughts on matters flying.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve told FNGs to the shipyard that every safety rule is written in some elses blood…try hard not to make a new chapter, or repeat some previous stupidity, because that ink also will be in blood….your blood.
I went to North Palm Beach County airport for the first time ever yesterday. I had never heard of the place, much less noticed it on the sectional so I had no expectations. To my delight, a flight school has a J3-Cub and gives dual instruction. I had always wanted a tailwheel endorsement. The instructor happens to be an airshow pilot and overall good guy. We did some ground school then out to the airplane. After a pre-flight of the unique parts of the taildragger, we did a full checklist and started to taxi using S-turns as the view out the front is all cowling during taxi. We tried a few 180-270 and 360 turns on the ground to demonstrate rudder and brake feel, the effects of a crosswind on aft of the mains CG and how a ground loop starts. The lesson was to never get to a point of no return.
The air work was exacting. It is somehow hotter in the front seat when I’m trying to learn a new airplane, the panel, throttle, trim and what the horizon looks like, maintinaing altitude, coordinated turns, dutch rolls, the usual stall series and so on.
In the pattern the instructor was kind of like Lt. Harmon, nothing was quite good enough.
Bottom line is he will make me better. The taildragger endorsement counts as a bi-annual. Earning l my seaplane rating in J-3 Cub two years ago doesn’t count towards the taildragger endorsement althoug it helped prepare me for the air work.
With nine more hours in the airplane, they will rent it solo. Can’t wait.
Rivet: very true. Had someone do that to me – run thru a green light while I was still in the intersection, right in front of him. I went thru on a green but the light was notoriously quick back in 1981. He broadsided my 1973 Cougar convertible with his 1971 Chevy Impala.
It was not pretty. He hit me so hard he cracked his engine block – miracle he lived thru it as he should have gone thru his windshield. Gravity must have kept him in the car. My car was spun up a hill for about 3 revolutions – hit me hard enough to snap off one of my side view mirrors. I got tossed around a bit but, like him, escaped without major injury.
He confessed at the scene that he never slowed down – he came barreling up a hill to the intersection at about 40-45mph and never even paused, even though the light was red as he approached. It turned green just as he got to the line and he kept going.
Pays to at least pause and look – no matter what kind of vehicle you are in.
Did I see you flying south in formation past La Jolla Shores ~ 1430?
Great read.
Chicago Midway tower had cleared me for a visual approach for runway 31C. I was OK with that but didn’t hear that a 737 was using it for the same approach. Didn’t see the jet until I turned base (they have parallel runways). I called tower for the correction and they were more helpful than usual.
My IP always taught me to watch for oncoming traffic on the approach and this time I was glad I did.
Just love reading your sea/air stories, Lex. The words pull me along with anticipation of the resulting lesson in life.
Oh, if more drivers would “check their six”, look left and right, well… I wouldn’t be paying the number of claims we do. Rivetjoint has the right idea, that’s for certain.
…more sea/air/training stories, please.
Kevin @13, that was us, young Adam in the trunk and your correspondent having passed the lead.
Small world, innit?
That’s good stuff, right there.
You’d kind of hope the guy on final would realize someone was cleared to takeoff on his runway.
BTW–>Didn’t you know? ALL SERGRADS were jerks.
I almost learned the stop and look lesson the hard way a long time ago. I was taking my driving test and got to a stop light. Light turns green, I wait, look and look, and the H.P. officer doing the test is grumbling about that’s not good driving. About then, a car breezes through the intersection. Cop was like, “Oh, Sh!T!” and told me to turn right and see if I could get behind him to get the plate number. Stood on that sucker, for sure, since it was the only legal time I ever got to do it
Seriously, that’s saved my cookies a lot of times over the years. If I’m first in line, I don’t stand on it when it’s green.
Great read again Lex. I took an Oath that I would not die in an airplane from something I did or failed to do. That includes doing my best to look out for the other guy but there is a certain amount of luck and risk inherent there. Because of the location of my home strip, I do a lot of flying beneath the outer floor of Class C. No electrical system and no transponder in my ’46 ragwing taildragger. Currently flying LSA but I always tune in to Approach so as to get a read on the traffic around as they will call me out as “traffic type and altitude unknown moving very slow.” I keep a pattern for the controllers anyway as I habitually follow the same routes in and out, staying out of the Class C at 1700 feet in the foothills. Two months ago I was coming back home, not two miles from the strip when a light twin came over the mountains and passed purpendicular in front of me about three hundred yards away at the same altitude headed for the main airport. As a ragwing, apparently my radar signature didn’t get picked up this time as Approach never called me out nor did the twin see me. I didn’t see him until he was at two o’clock as he came smokin’ thru. I heard Approach talking to him but had no idea as to where he was in relation to me. As a result, I am looking for a viable battery powered strobe to mount on either the fuselage or tailfeathers. That and coming up on the handheld radio with Approach.
Defensive driving pays in my little town. Very few drivers seem to follow any kind of rules. I stop at the same intersection/traffic light/side street every morning on the way to work and I can’t count the times people have sailed right on through the red light on the State Hwy I’m waiting to enter. I tend to mumble about their ancestry.
Lex:
You are spot on with your description of the goat rope attact on Lebanon. As I recall, it was an attact on the western slopes of the Chouf mountains and not the Bekka. The Bekka would have been in bright sun light. Nevertheless, the results are what happens when higher authority gets involved and wants the results on the evening news. My CAG was one of those shot down and fortunately rescued. Immediately after the outcome, ADM Tuttle asked who the senior CO in the Wing was because CAG was in sick bay with back problems. I gingerly raised my hand, hoping not to be seen. Tuttle eyed me and pronounced that I was acting CAG, and “you better stick close enough to me that if I fart, you better smell it.” I was never so happy to see CAG out of sick bay and assuming his rightfull duties.
IIRC, the Lebanon strike that won Goodman an all expense paid vacation courtesy of Syria was also the prime impetus behind the formation of Strike University at Fallon. Think TOPGUN for attack guys.
Another traffic light story. I was sitting at a red light one day with a large pickup/SUV type vehicle next to me, obscuring my view to the left. Light turns green, I roll off – and broadside a car that had blown through the red light from my left. No injuries, fortunately, but I suddenly understood why the truck hadn’t moved. Now I always check for oncoming traffic even after my light turns green.
I’m glad your jerk of a SERGRAD was looking out for you. Then and now.
Hey Nose, I thought Lex was a SERGRAD, no?
Great story, Lex.
This gives me pause for thought.
I look at the last line of this post, and the last lines of your ‘worst day ever’ post, and note the coincidence.
Perhaps the coincidence is my own occasional concerns. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I fear that in some cases, being a beneficial jerk is the best I can do.
One of my instructors a few months back mentioned that tower controllers were often Russian.
“Huh? Really?”
His reply: “Remember; trust, but verify. Always.”
Several comments:
Nose — my “on wing” in VT-24 was a SERGRAD, and a great guy. Unfortunatly, got F-4s on the Midway and FNAEBed, while his brother is now a four star….
Virgil — RAG instructor when Goodman was “rescued” — started the running blackboard jokes about who in the RAG would be rescued by whom. Token flaming liberal (now with FedEx, and still liberal — dating the ugliest RADM in the Navy) — rescued by Phil Donohue. Consensus was that Jerry Falwell would come get me.
SteveH — when I was a RAG student, the CO said he never wanted to hear us say “sir” to a controller. He wanted to instill the attitude that everyone outside our a/c was intent on killing us, and too much respect to a controller could lead to complacency. Thought it picayune at the time. After thousands of hours, not quite so sure.
Lex — great read, although I would be interested in reading what your students said about you. I was a prick as a RAG instructor, and always wanted to duck years later when guys would come up to me and say, ” You probably don’t remember me, but I was a student…..” Usually led to me shuffling my feet, and a few humble words on my part. Which were usually returned with something along the lines of “You were just trying to make us better. Now, LT XXXX, he was a prick.”
Michelle-
I’d reckon that’s the point…. after all, if you can’t take the piss…..
Besides, our man is retired now
Yeah, yeah – and all of that was a very long time ago, when yer host was a very different person.
Had an instructor at Whiting when I was in T-28s that always told me to do a quick mental calculation of traffic I saw and heard, and if I couldn’t keep track of them then how the hell would some controller be able to keep track? That and always listen to the F___ Angel of Death. Paid off in Atsugi Japan flying C-12s with a bunch of CAG 5 bubbas in the back. Tower clears us runway 19 break, cleared for LEFT break. LEFT? Break? I’m a twaddlin C-12 can you repeat? Japanese controllers verified REFT BREAK!! Well ain’t normal course rules but Okey-dokey, I’ll give the BoysInBack a good 45 degree shit hot C-12 break. cleared to land, weather a little hazy, listening to tower calls and can’t see P-3 he is talking to. About the 90 the little hairs stand up, the FAD is talking, dip the wing to see wing lights on JMSDF P-3 straight in. ACK – WAVE OFF. Typical day where the Japanese are trying to get rid of us one kill at a time. Course that is better than getting your A-6 shot out from underneath you by a Jap destroyer as some poor VA-115 bubbas learned!
G-Man:
“…better than getting your A-6 shot out from underneath you by a Jap destroyer…”
That is just the great cosmic payback for this:
That “unnamed a/c” belonged to VA-196. Best story I heard was that the Gunner in 196 took max gas over the Mk-82 that hit and didn’t explode.
Lex:
If that never happened to you, then I shoulda given you one of my three similar incidents at NKX. Only with me, tower missed a C-9 on final versus a Cirrus. At least I didn’t get the pithy “complete readback” call, though.
Lex, my “LTJG Dave Harmon” was one Col Jim Santa Anna, WWII bomber pilot and veteran of the Berlin Airlift. Jim left us last year, having taught uncounted numbers of fledglings the same lesson you described. I was lucky and honored to fly with him.
Glad you cleared left and right!
Of course, if you would have blindly followed the voice of authority in your headphones, we would be reading about a mishap involving “Pilot error”
Not like there isn’t enough real pilot error to go around, but it seems that a lot of the controller errors get whitewashed and blamed on the pilot, especially if said pilot and aircrew is no longer around to speak on his/her own behalf.
They do, but remember, the pilot in command is Captain. He’s personally responsible for everything…and has the authority to toss the whole rulebook in the trash and do whatever is needed for safety of flight. See FAR 91.2b.
Two takeoffs today, two glances over to check finals after receiving takeoff clearance. As our esteemed host says, check every time.
Did see a G4 who was in a hurry once compress his nose gear fully when I asked him (uncontrolled field) on very short final if he’d like us to go around for him?
You can be a jerk, and still be right.
I’m guessing the controller got a bigger fright than you did.