Sky Spy, Memoirs of a U-2 Pilot

by Jim Carter

  One of the scenarios our instructors drilled into us was the unexpected student maneuver. A typical one follows: your wingman is on your right side and you set up for a pitchout and rejoin. Your student gives the pitchout signal but then attempts to turn into the wingman instead of away. If allowed to happen, this is disastrous for both airplanes. The instructor must anticipate by watching and listening to the student. From the moment they enter pilot training, students are constantly reminded to “clear” the area. This means turn and look where you’re going prior to turning the airplane into that space. As I watched my instructor, who was playing a student, I noticed he cleared to the right even though he’d be turning left. Because of this I tightly guarded the stick ready to take corrective action and, sure enough, he tried to turn into the wingman. Because I watched and anticipated, I prevented a mid-air collision. We were taught never to push the safety envelope but we had to let the students go far enough in order for them to learn. If we were too overprotective no progress would ever be made.

  I felt very confidant and well trained by the time I graduated from PIT in January of 1974. Now it was time to go back to Alabama to face some real students.

  Chapter 5

  Undergraduate Pilot Training (UPT) is a yearlong program that trains new officers how to fly jets.

  Prior to beginning the primary, or T-37 phase, all applicants had to prove themselves through a 30-hour flight program in the Cessna 172. The Cessna program was staffed with civilian instructors. The purpose of this program was similar to the ROTC flight program I completed in college. It weeded out candidates who didn’t have those qualities the Air Force deemed essential to becoming a successful pilot. This was a very cost effective way to eliminate the most obvious nonstarter candidates. Students who were consistently airsick or just plain scared were quickly eliminated; the same for the uncoordinated or those who cracked under pressure. But just getting through the Cessna program was no guarantee that you would be able to go all the way and get your wings. About 1/3 of all candidates were eliminated over the course of a year, most of them in the T-37 phase. The T-37 was a short, squat, two-engine jet with side-by-side seating. The engines produced a loud, highpitched whine. The airplane was known as the “Tweet” or the “Dog Whistle.”

  The students in our program were an elite bunch. All were college graduates and some were graduates of the service academies. All met strict selection criteria and were highly motivated. When our students reached the T-38 phase they had accumulated about 120 flying hours, 90 in a low-performance jet (T-37), and 30 in the Cessna program. Now we were to take these students with low experience and pair them with a high performance aircraft.

  My squadron, the 52nd Flying Training Squadron, had four different flights (student groups): “F,” “G,” “H” and “I.” There was also a Standardization/Evaluation section. This group administered check rides to the instructors. A separate Check Section gave check rides to the students. The T-38 training phase lasted six months. The four Flights or groups ran the gamut of training. “F” flight, for example, would be in the beginner, or instrument phase. “I” flight, ready to graduate, was in the four ship formation phase.

  I had been assigned to “H” flight and they had just begun the formation phase when I arrived. The students each had three or four rides and had not soloed in formation yet. Soloing in formation was a major accomplishment in the T-38 program; second in importance only to the initial solo in the contact phase.

  Captain Doug Collert was our Flight Commander. My fellow line instructors were: Lt Greg Barrett, Lt Rob O’Connell, Lt Cal James, and Captain Stan Sparks. All the instructors, except Stan, were FAIPs. This was Air Force speak for “First Assignment Instructor Pilots.” This was their first assignment after graduating pilot training. Stan, like me, had come from a previous aircraft. He was a C-141 pilot. He had done a lot of traveling in the 141 and he wanted to stay put with his family for a few years. All the IPs had three students assigned to them but since I was coming into their program late, I got to share two students, one from Stan and one from Greg.

  Chapter 6

  My first ride with a real student was a formation ride. I was paired up with Greg and two of his students. These students were both good but with only three formation rides each, were not that comfortable in formation. I started out as lead. We followed a standard profile for this phase including: takeoff, departure, normal maneuvering in fingertip, pitchouts and rejoins, area departure, traffic pattern entry, followed by single ship landings. Since I hadn’t flown with this student before, I would demonstrate the first maneuver, and then let him try it. We flew half the ride as lead, then swapped positions with Greg and took the wing. Some of those “what if” scenarios in PIT came true on my first ride with an actual student. This student was a former navigator with the rank of Captain. I think he may have been nervous because he hadn’t flown with me before. Flying with a fellow Captain may have spooked him since his regular instructor was a First Lieutenant. Whatever the reason, his flying suffered because of it.

  He made several of the classic errors I had been warned about. Once we got into our flying area, I gave him control of the airplane and told him to set up for a straight-ahead rejoin. By the time he set up the maneuver we were heading out of our area into the adjacent one. I took the airplane back, got us back into our area, and set up for the pitchout and rejoin. When this was done, I gave him back the airplane and the go-ahead to do the maneuver. Our wingman was on our right. My student looked at the wingman, gave the signal, and then cleared right. I knew what was coming. He attempted to turn the wrong way right into our wingman. I was ready for him, however. As soon as I felt the first input on the stick I took over and rolled left. I asked him why he was trying to kill us but he couldn’t answer.

  We did a couple of pitchout/rejoins each then we practiced some G loaded wing work. We instructors constantly pushed the students to improve. A simple way to do this in formation was through G loading. Normal straight and level flying resulted in 1 G (force of gravity). A 60-degree bank level turn produced 2 Gs. A 500-knot loop started out at 5 or 6 Gs. These high G maneuvers pushed your blood supply from your head into your core and legs. To counter this, we wore G-suits, which were inflatable chaps-like devices worn around the mid section and legs which responded to G forces by filling with air. The G-suit would squeeze the legs and stomach and keep the blood supply from moving downward. Without restricting the blood flow, a high G maneuver could cause a blackout; not a good result in a high-speed airplane.

  Greg and I let the students fly and they were staying in position but they weren’t pushing their limits. It was our turn. Within a few minutes we were doing four and five G turns around cumulus clouds. In this kind of workout, we were all breathing hard and sweating. About 15 minutes of this back and forth was enough and we gave the airplanes back to the students and they practiced for a while.

  My student finally relaxed enough to fly up to his potential and I learned a valuable lesson that day. Some students can be easily intimidated so it was important for me to put them at ease before we flew. To the student, the instructor was a powerful figure that could crush your dreams of a flying career so it was important for the student to trust and not fear the instructor. Only by being relaxed and at ease could the student perform up to his potential. This approach to instructor-student relationships was starkly different from the prevailing attitude when I went through pilot training. Back then, the operative words for the instructors’ treatment of students were: fear, sarcasm and ridicule. Things were certainly changing for the better.

  Chapter 7

  The instrument phase was the start of the T-38 program. Before we even began this phase we gave the students a freebie. It was called a “Dollar Ride” because the student would give their instructors a dollar for the privilege of the first T-38 ride. The money went into a kitty to fund squadron parties. Prior to this first ride the students had been to ground school and learned all about the airplan
e. They were required to master all the systems, learn the limitations and the emergency procedures. After completing ground school, they were given a simulator ride to familiarize them with the cockpit layout. The Dollar Ride was fun for both the student and the instructor. They got to see the capabilities of the aircraft and we got to show off a bit. Part of the ride included a supersonic run. None of the students had ever broken the sound barrier before, but after this ride they were members of the Mach 1+ Club.

  Most of the students did well in the instrument phase. They would preview the aircraft lesson in the simulator so there were no surprises. If they had problems in the simulator, they would try it again until they got it right. They also had experience flying on instruments from the T-37 phase. The T-38 had different instrumentation but they at least knew how to build their scan, or instrument cross-check. Once the student mastered the lesson on the simulator, they would then try it in the airplane.

  Flying on instruments in any airplane required building a “scan” for that particular plane. Building this scan meant locating which instruments to crosscheck in order to keep the airplane where you wanted it. A proper crosscheck or scan centered on one main instrument, usually the Attitude Director Indicator or ADI, with quick systematic looks to the other gauges. A typical scan would start with the ADI, then a glance at the airspeed gauge, back to the ADI, to the vertical velocity gauge, to the heading or course, then back to the ADI. The scan had to be systematic and it had to keep moving. The purpose of this back and forth was to see trends and correct them on the ADI. If you spotted a gradual climb while you were supposed to be level then a change had to be made on the ADI. If you stopped too long on one of the gauges, bad things usually followed. Concentrating on the airspeed could mean an unintended climb or descent. Watching just the heading could jeopardize your speed control.

  Chapter 8

  The flight line routine was split into morning and afternoon sessions, and the groups would alternate. “H” flight, for example, would be on mornings this week and on afternoons next week. The morning sessions started at 6:00 a.m. and went to 1:00 p.m. The afternoon sessions started at noon and went to 7:00 p.m. The only exception to this schedule was when we practiced night flying.

  Every flying day was structured the same way. The day began with a weather briefing and student quizzing. Students would be called at random to stand up and recite the steps required for certain emergency procedures. The students had to know these cold, without hesitation or omission. If they forgot a step, or got the wording wrong or hesitated, they wouldn’t fly that day. After the emergency procedures quiz was completed, individual flight briefings started. An instructor and his students occupied a table. When the instructor briefed a student, the rest of his students would listen in.

  Students sat in the rear cockpit, under the hood, for instrument rides. The rides began with basic maneuvers like maintaining straight and level flight. Speed variations would be added. Once a skill was mastered, a new task was added. Turns were introduced, then climbing and descending turns, then speed changes during turns and so on. Mastering these individual skills was building the student toward the ultimate goal of instrument flight: flying instrument approaches through the weather to a safe landing. At the end of the instrument phase, the student would be able to safely fly every type of instrument approach available in the T-38. Once the student passed his instrument phase check ride, he would move on to the contact phase.

  The contact phase was make-or-break time for most students. The key elements of this phase were takeoffs and landings. Other topics covered in this phase were: taxiing, departure, climb, area entry, aerobatics, radio procedures, area departure, traffic pattern entry, single-engine and no-flap landings, checklist usage and ramp procedures (how to get in and out of a parking spot). If the student progressed normally, he would be eligible to solo after six to eight rides. T-38 solo was a major milestone. 95 % of students who soloed would go on to successfully complete the program. The other 5 % would stumble on the formation phase.

  For these first few contact rides the students were behind the airplane. We would be entering the area for maneuvers and they would still be thinking about the takeoff but gradually they would catch up. Our goal was to get them planning their maneuvers ahead of the airplane. One of the reasons why this was so important was fuel usage. The average contact mission lasted about an hour and fifteen minutes. The student had to be able to get to his assigned area, sequence his maneuvers and figure out when to leave the area so he could arrive back in the traffic pattern and practice a few landings. After all this he had to arrive back on the ramp with a safe amount of fuel.

  Chapter 9

  At civilian airports, the tower controls traffic. At student pilot training bases, the Runway Supervisory Unit (RSU) controlled the traffic. The RSU was a small trailer-like structure on stilts that was situated along the side of the runway about 1500 feet from the approach end. It was fully airconditioned and radio equipped. It also had hardwired phone lines installed and flare gun ports for emergencies. An Instructor Pilot (IP) and three students manned the RSU. IPs wishing to be controllers underwent a rigorous six — week training program before being allowed to direct traffic. One student acted as a recorder writing down takeoff and landing times as well as controller comments. A second student, a spotter, acted as the eyes of the unit. He faced the approach end of the runway using binoculars to call the oncoming aircraft configuration for the controller. This spotter assured the controller that all approaching aircraft had landing gear, flaps and lights in the proper position. The third student faced the departure end of the runway. He would warn the controller of any impending conflicts on his end of the runway.

  The controller acted like a maestro. He would safely sequence all the airplanes in the pattern. He had to know where every aircraft was all the time. The maximum number of airplanes allowed in the pattern was twelve. These twelve included dual ships (instructor and student aboard), solos, and formation flights. Radio calls were used to keep everyone aware of each other’s position. A call had to be made when entering the pattern from the area, when entering initial, pitching out, the final turn, go-around and requesting a closed pattern (a short cut allowing you to by-pass the outside downwind). Everyone had to call, and to make the system work properly, everyone had to listen-up. Only by listening could you know where everyone else was.

  Some problems arose when aircraft would cut off each other’s radio transmissions. Sometimes the students would forget their call sign or just get so zoned in on landing the airplane that they weren’t listening. This is where the flares came in. On more than one occasion, a student tried to land gear up and I had to fire a flare because he was not acknowledging my instructions on the radio.

  Back in the mid 1970’s we trained quite a few Saudi and Iranian student pilots. Some of them were very good but several were really bad. These students came from very wealthy, even royal families. Language was just one of the barriers they faced. Their major hurdle was the technology gap. They were at a tremendous disadvantage compared to their American classmates. Growing up in Saudi Arabia or Iran did not prepare them well for the high-tech world of jets. These students were under the ultimate pressure to succeed. If they washed out, they would be returned to their homes and were rumored to be executed for their failure. Their high motivation didn’t always lead to graduation.

  Most had a good understanding of English but throw in the jargon of flight school and things started to crumble. Their ability to speak and understand English was inversely proportional to the amount of stress in a given situation. I had taken one of my Iranian students, Ahmed, on a cross-country flight. Our destination was Ellington AFB in Houston one Friday afternoon in June. The weather was not that bad but there were several thunderstorms along our route of flight. The thunderstorms were generating a lot of lightning and turbulence.

  I was sitting in the rear cockpit and Ahmed in the front. We saw three or four large lightning strikes off ou
r left wing and I could tell Ahmed was getting antsy. Despite my reassurances about our safety, I could hear Ahmed muttering to himself in Farsi. When the next lightning bolt flashed, Ahmed unstrapped from his ejection seat, turned around and kneeled down on the seat facing backwards. He then began to pray. I was dumbfounded, and busy. When Ahmed decided to take his prayer break, he had been flying. Since he was no longer in a position to fly the airplane, I took over and tried to figure out what this crazy bastard was up to. He was praying because he thought he was going to die, regardless of what I told him. I guess the stress brought on by the weather shut down his ability to understand English. Once we cleared the line of thunderstorms, he stopped praying, strapped himself back in, and soon sounded like his old self.

  After we landed we had a long discussion about weather, aircraft control and basic safety (not unstrapping in flight). He seemed to understand what I was telling him. Eventually Ahmed washed out of the program. He couldn’t fly in formation so he was sent back to Iran and was never heard from again.

  The most important part of the contact training phase was the traffic pattern, which included takeoffs and landings. The traffic pattern consisted of specific points that all planes had to navigate over. Aircraft leaving the pattern had to follow a specific ground track. The same was true for entering the pattern. Everyone operated on the same radio frequency and called when reaching key points in the pattern. By listening, a pilot in the pattern knew where the other aircraft were. The RSU controller had the big picture. The controller issued landing clearances or go-around instructions. The ultimate responsibility for separation from other aircraft lay with the pilot. In the traffic pattern, you always kept your head moving around and your ears open. The RSU controller paid special attention to the solo students. As a controller, I knew the dual aircraft would usually do the right thing but I watched the solos and waited for them to do the wrong thing. The solos could get in trouble in any number of ways. The majority of the solo students did a fantastic job and flew without incident. It was the exceptions that warranted close scrutiny. They occasionally forgot to configure the airplane prior to the final turn, even though “gear check” was a mandatory radio call in the turn.