Are You Pissed? He Asks.
At age 22, I graduated college, was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the USAF, drove my first out of town trip (longer than 70 miles) to Vance AFB, Oklahoma, drove through the main gate for my first salute as an active duty officer, and began USAF UPT (Undergraduate Pilot Training). After weeks of ground school, simulator training, and briefings, I began flying the Cessna T-37 Tweet, side by side, primary jet trainer, commonly referred to as the “6,000 lb Dog Whistle” because of the obnoxious high pitched noise it made on the ground with the engines running. Quite a few significant life events for a guy of the ripe old age of 22.
All of this early training was to culminate in being cleared for the first Tweet solo flight. On one of my dual training flights with an IP (Instructor Pilot) the objective was for me to demonstrate the ability to safely recover from a stall. Not just any stall. A series of stalls in clean configuration at idle, at takeoff power, and in the the landing configuration with power at idle, approach, and takeoff settings with various angles of bank.
My IP today is a highly experienced FAIP (First Assignment Instructor Pilot), meaning he graduated UPT, went to instructor school, and then to a UPT base as his first assignment. Not only is he highly experienced, he is highly burnt out from being a Tweet Instructor for nearly four years. He knows the mistakes a student pilot is going to make before stepping out to fly the jet. His patience is permanently worn thin from too much time “teaching” in the Tweet. His reputation precedes him with dread every time one of us “studs” sees his name next to ours on the flying schedule. He is known for profuse cussing and screaming at his “stud’s” performance, even to the point of reaching over, grabbing the “stud’s” oxygen mask and shaking it to gain the attention of his charge.
Once airborne and in our assigned working area, he directs me to do a clean, idle power straight ahead stall. Simple enough. Especially for a “highly” experienced Private Pilot with about 200 hours of flying time in Cessnas, a Citabria, a Piper Cherokee, and a Super Cub. So, I do clearing turns, roll out on his directed heading, reduce the throttles to idle, and apply back pressure to increase angle of attack in preparation for the impending stall. As we were taught to expect, the airframe vibration from air disruption over the wings goes through the expected “Pebbles, Rocks, and Boulders” sensation and the Tweet stalls, then drops off slightly to one side because I don’t have the rudder perfectly centered at the time of the stall. As I am correcting that simultaneously with pushing the stick and throttles forward to recover from the stall, he is ranting and raving interlaced with choice profanity. I break the stall, increase flying speed, and almost recover in the allotted amount of altitude. Of course, true to his reputation, there’s no level of “instruction” going on, just nearly out of control rage.
Next, he tersely demands a straight ahead approach to landing configuration (landing gear and flaps down) stall. This guy definitely doesn’t foster a learning environment. I complete the required clearing maneuver, extend the landing gear and flaps, and set the throttles to the required percentage. This many years later, I don’t remember what that exact number was but, I do remember setting them perfectly the same, 2% off what was required. Not a word from him as I apply back pressure on the stick to increase the angle of attack, and then his tirade starts. He isn’t telling me what’s wrong, doesn’t say to stop doing what I’m doing, and then starts pounding aggressively on the glare shield as I feel the progression through “Pebbles, Rocks, and Boulders” and the subsequent stall. In the midst of this, he screams something about the engine rpm setting. By now I’ve had enough of his out of control rage. As the nose of the Tweet breaks through the stall I hold back pressure on the stick and control wing rock with judicious application of rudder keeping it in a quasi stall, steep descent. He screams “Recover!” I ignore him. He screams “RECOVER!!” I ignore him as we continue the semi controlled steep descent. He then asks, in an almost civil tone, “Are you pissed?” In my best available military bearing, I reply “Yes Sir!”, and promptly complete the stall recovery. We are still well above the minimum altitude for stall initiation and recovery but, I’ve completely blown through the minimum required stall recovery altitude loss, and don’t much care at this point. At this point I have lost interest in this guy and his inability to recover from self induced “Out of Control” emotions. As my extremely higher than normal adrenaline rush starts to subside, it occurs to me, WTF have I just done?! More than likely, I’ve just busted this ride and will have to redo it. A greater worry is how is my flight commander going to react to this? To say the least, my “IP” has induced a great deal of unnecessary distraction into this less than ideal learning situation. Fortunately, we are done with the area work and it’s a matter of returning to base, landing, taxi back to our parking spot, and shutting down. It’s a fairly quiet flight back interlaced with a few of his usual caustic inputs. I can not wait to get out of this jet.
We sit down for the debrief and his toxic blast begins. All of my classmates in the flight room either distance themselves or egress the room. Everyone has either self experienced or heard this guy’s debriefings. I am still so pissed at his behavior, most of his debrief is not getting through my glazed over ear drums. I just want him outta my face so I can go talk with my flight commander. He finally quits talking and hands me the grade slip. To this day, I don’t remember if he busted me on the ride or not. It didn’t matter then, nor does it now. There was no instruction going on during that ride at all. Most importantly, I got to log the flying time.
So, we stand up, exchange salutes, and he leaves the flight room. My next stop is the flight commander’s office (a senior Captain). I knock on his door, he welcomes me in, and asks what’s up? I ask to close the door and he approves. After explaining what has transpired on the ride, I tell the boss that the ride was far from a learning experience and that I refuse to fly with the rage master again. The boss is receptive and appreciative for my debriefing. He is aware of this guy’s technique and reputation. He thanks me for the input, and dismisses me.
Returning to my assigned student table, I am immediately surrounded by several of my classmates wanting to know what just happened. I explain what transpired on the ride and in the Flight Commander’s office. Amazed at my refusal to fly with this IP, everyone gathered starts revealing their similar experiences with this guy, to include him grabbing their oxygen mask hose and jerking their head around as an attention step. Over the next couple of days, four of my classmates go to our Flight Commander with similar stories and refuse to fly with him. Shortly thereafter, the IP is reassigned out of our flight to the Wing Flight Safety Office where he flys only occasionally with the T-37 flight sections as an attached IP. He never flys again with our flight section for the rest of our time in Tweets.
It took awhile. But, I almost (I said almost) felt sorry for the guy when thinking about the level of burn out he reached. On the other hand, there were IPs who had been flying the Tweet much longer than this guy, and were a pleasure to fly with and learn from.
Regardless, an unintended valuable lesson to be aware of in the future.
Next, on to the T-38 Talon, or “White Rocket” where I really come into my own as a future Fighter Pilot. Compared to the cumbersome feeling Tweet, the “White Rocket” fits like a glove and is a dream to fly.
