Viper Pilot_ A Memoi..

decided that we were in an F-16 today and we’d do it my way.
He swore he understood.
But, just to make sure, I actually squirmed around enough in the back to wedge
my boot under the gear handle. There was no way the sucker was coming down.
As the Gs hit during the break and my knee connected with my chin, I felt the
handle bump against my boot.
“Heh, heh, heh,” I managed to gurgle from my pretzel-like position, feeling
pretty proud of myself.
Then it happened.
“WHUMP . . . WHUMP . . . WHUMP.”
Sonofabitch. As we rolled out again, I saw that he’d blown the gear down with
the Alternate Gear Handle. This was an emergency system only to be used when
the wheels wouldn’t lower any other way. Doing it now could cause all sorts of
problems. In fact, as I took the jet to land, my main hydraulic system failed.
Language was always an issue. Another day, in another D-model two-seater, I
was trying to teach a kid how to land. The Egyptians conducted all their RTU-type
training in their line squadrons, something we would never do. This was another
Russian idea that didn’t work but they insisted on it anyway.
This particular pilot, named Moshen, had also come from MiG-21s and was
doing his best to kill us both every time we came around to land. There’s a position
in the overhead pattern, called the “Perch.” This occurs when you’re abeam the
end of the runway about a half-mile away, and you begin to turn to final. In a
fighter, this means dropping the nose and flying the jet around in a descending arc,
so you roll out on a one-mile final. Every time is different, and you simply play the
stick, throttle, and your eyes to make it happen. It’s a Zen thing.
This kid didn’t have it. He’d dive for the end of the runway with no concept of
speed, distance, or death. Our conversation went like this.
“Moshen . . . pull your nose up.”
“Sir”
“Pull the nose up . . . see the men on the ground running away That’s bad.”
“Sir”
“I got the jet.”
And I’d recover control, go around, and we’d have our three-language
discussion. He’d swear he understood and I’d give him control back.
“Pull the nose up.”
“Sir”
“Pull your nose up . . . we’re too steep and we’re going to die.”