I have an account around here, somewhere.
Found it.
Oldman’s Aerial AdventureHeh heh. They'll have to pry the grin off my face with a chisel.
Background, for those who didn’t catch it before. In celebration of Oldman’s attainment of the age of 50 years, an achievement which many thought to be impossible, a very good friend gave me a day at Air Combat USA.
http://www.aircombatusa.com/ The organization is based on the Left Coast, but takes its show on the road. This appointment was for Saturday, 2 November 2002, at Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They brought two of the SIAI Marchetti 260s to Lancaster. One instructor, one dweeb in each.
I leave home at 6:15 - in a cloud of snow. Not a good sign, but soon the sun pops out and life is good. I get to the airport after about 1.25 hours travel time. A bit later, my opponent pulls up to the FBO in a late-model fire engine red pickup truck, saunters out, age about 30, good looking. One glance at me, you could see "breakfast" go through his mind.
This is definitely an ex-Navy operation; all three instructors (they rotated) were retired Navy or Marine; all former A4 pilots in this case. My instructor, believe it or not, was call sign “Buzzard.” Got the briefing, learned the parachute, walked out to the planes, took off.
Drill was for the pickup truck guy (who we will call Honcho for purposes of this missive) to lead while I practiced flying at his low 4:00. Immediate overcontrol problems on my part; looked like Gomer Pyle in an airplane. Finally got it so I could hold it within 50 feet up-down-sideways. Blue Angels will not be calling me soon.
Then follow Honcho through some 20-30 degree turns, left, right, left right. Practice low yo-yos, high yo-yos. Things are going good. Time for Honcho to drop into trail, follow me through some turns. One turn to the left. One turn to the right. Then Honcho's instructor comes on over the radio:
"Uh...I think we have to go back to base. He's not gonna make it."
My instructor is appalled. "Whaddaya mean he can't make it??" (He's an ex-Marine, remember.)
"He's really sick."
"Can't you just do a merge or two so I can work on the yo-yos?"
"Well...uh....ok, maybe some easy ones."
So I practiced that for a bit, but we were all acutely conscious that we were torturing poor Honcho, who by now had barfed, not once, but twice, all tied up in nice little plastic bags with twist ties. So it's back to the airport, this time we're lead. I look down to the right, see Honcho's helmet lolling against the canopy. He looks dead. He probably wishes he was.
Landed. Honcho apologizes, looks around to see if there's a gun nearby that he can use on himself, ultimately takes his fancy truck and drives back to Maryland. What to do for an opponent for the surviving dweeb? Nothing for it but to use Honcho's instructor, call sign Pygmy, 35 years in the Navy starting in 1955, 4000 hours just in A4s, 183 combat missions over Viet Nam. You can see that he's worried.
So up we go in the afternoon. One of the guys in the flight before us has also barfed, big man, pale as a ghost, but not suicidal like the Honcho. I am feeling so superior.
Practice the formation flying on the way out....still not getting any calls from the demo teams. Practiced some lag rolls (fun!), then it was time for COMBAT!
Pygmy about one mile out on the left; both planes turn toward each other, speed up to about 180 kts each, closing at 360, meet co-alt, wings level (these were the rules of engagement - no lead turn stuff). I go up and left in an easy immel, Pygmy circles down to the left, I'm still overcontrolling, plane is shuddering, my instructor is saying "ease back ease back ease back," the nose goes down as Pygmy comes back up. Up and down after each other like this, Pygmy decides to reverse and give the Oldman an easy shot, which the Oldman happily takes. Smoke trails from Pygmy, the crowd cheers.
On the second flight Pygmy has decided to let the Oldman know that the first kill was because of easy treatment. This time the turns are probably 3g (interesting that the speed bleeds off so quickly that you can't get more than that before you hit stall), I'm overcontrolling as always, shuddering in the stall, Pygmy is on me within a few seconds, and I'm trailing smoke, which is also filling the cockpit. Time to open the hood a few inches, let some of that cool fall air (-22 C) into the plane. OK, so he got me, big deal, there's always fight number three.
To compress this story, it is enough to say that I am doing a very good job at situational awareness, a pretty decent job at staying in his rear quarters, overcontrol is my big problem. Of the six fights, I am victor in four, although we all know that Pygmy is not perceiving this as a fight for his life. On my first pullout from a dive, looking straight up through the canopy at Pygmy, my head suddenly weighs 4.5 times its normal fathead self, and I think it is going to pop off and land in the luggage compartment behind me. Still sore (just a little) today. Otherwise, its just like the computer games.
On the way home, oddly enough, the Oldman begins to feel a bit queasy himself. Would not do to barf after all the fun we've been making of the Honcho, so I busy myself looking at the scenery. Amazingly, I'm able to hold a pretty good formation by this time, which is fortunate, because I find that watching Pygmy’s plane makes me feel sicker.
Land the plane, the queasiness goes away instantly, I am my old confident self and am also walking two inches above the surface of the pavement. Shake hands with Pygmy, who is, to my surprise, not a real happy camper. My instructor thinks it's because he had to work too hard. I wonder if it’s because I almost hit him. I don't care. I could do this all day, unless I were to get sick like the weak people.
Plainly one of the best days of my life. Am wondering how I can afford to buy two of these planes, at $500k each.
Observations from the AW/AH perspective:
My Real Airplane experience was very much like the transition from AW to AH. The general maneuvers, SA and techniques are the same. But the plane takes getting used to. A lot more getting used to than I could do in a couple of hours.
First impression: I need Big T to set the stick scaling. I doubt that the top of the stick ever moved more than two inches during any of my maneuvers, and usually lots less than that, and I was still overcontrolling. It really is just a matter of the amount of pressure you apply. The joysticks on these planes, FWIW, were, exactly, the old Thrustmaster FCS, complete with hat switch (which I never thought to ask about) (although I’m pretty sure it didn’t control the views).
Second impression: The combat looks just like it does with the early war planes in AH. Same speeds, same distances, visually, at least. I was very comfortable with that.
Funny impression: You think of it the way you think of the game. When I was looking up, I thought, distractedly, “Hey, this is the 5-key view.” When I was communicating, I though “Intercom is button 3, radio is button two.” After we passed on the merge, I though “Raise head, look kp 2-4.”
There was much less feel to the planes than I expected. I never did really get a sense of when I was about to hit the stall, until the plane began to shudder. My instructor actually got a bit agitated about this. Marines, what are you gonna do with them?
Main computer sim impression: Flying AW and AH helped a lot. You know what you want to do, and, pretty much, the plane does it, just like in the game. I was complimented on my ability to keep the other plane in sight (thank you, HR, for your post long ago on the AOL boards) and to stay (usually) (well, a lot, at least) behind him. I didn’t have to think about what I should do next, it came naturally because of all those years of virtual reality practice.
And let me tell you, playing AH is a lot cheaper than playing the real thing.
- oldman
