I brought the jet back

Flying Safety, April, 2004 by Gregory Newman

"Just bring the jet back." Those were the words I got from my Instructor Pilot (IP), a quirky Brit and great stick, as I headed out of the door for my initial area solo in the "Mighty Tweet."

"Just bring the jet back." I still think about those words from time to time because I almost didn't "bring the jet back."

There I was (isn't that how all great stories are supposed to start), strolling out to the Euro-NATO Joint Jet Pilot Training Program flightline in early fall of 1990 to get into the T-37 and go to the Military Operating Areas (MOAs) all by myself. Oh yeah, I was supposed to practice my basic acrobatic work: loops, rolls, and all that jazz, but what I really wanted to do was "pull Gs!" I mean, come on, I wanted to be a fighter pilot so what better place to "pull Gs" than on my first area solo?!? Does this sound like a mishap waiting to happen? It should!

Now, if you remember back to Undergraduate Pilot Training, the "limits" for the T-37 are G-limits: -2.67 to 6.67; Max Allowable Airspeed: 275 KIAS (due to longitudinal instability and rudder flutter); Structural Limit Airspeed: 382 KIAS.

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My plan that day was to get into the airspace and pull the maximum G that the Tweet allowed me to pull. I was going to implement my plan by entering a slight dive, accelerate to around 320-330 KIAS, and then pull on the stick. Sounds simple, and I figured I was perfectly OK to do this. I mean, 320-330 KIAS isn't anywhere near the 382 KIAS Structural Airspeed Limit, so what's the problem? This is what we call poor Operational Risk Management (ORM).

It was a beautiful day. I got established in the MOA and accelerated beyond 300 KIAS. I then proceeded to plant the stick in my lap ... and everything went black ... immediately. What do I do now, I thought? I can distinctly remember hearing everything going on around me. The wind noise was loud, other flights were making radio calls, you know, the usual stuff, but I had no vision whatsoever. Complete tunnel vision.

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After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality what was probably only a few seconds, I remember thinking to myself, "Am I going to be able to find the ejection handle without being able to see it?" And, "How am I going to explain this one to my IP? All he told me was "just bring the jet back."

"Just bring the jet back. Just bring the jet back. Just bring the jet back." I can remember hearing those words as I reached for the ejection handle. But, just before my hand got there, I regained my vision. After analyzing the situation, I put the throttles to idle, extended the speed brakes, and recovered my Tweet from a nose low dive out of the bottom of the airspace. And this was the first "maneuver" I'd performed in the MOA! Needless to say, after gangloading my regulator and climbing back into the airspace, I trimmed the aircraft out and flew straight and level, back and forth in the MOA until my area time was up. I then returned to base and did a successful overhead to a full-stop landing. No acrobatics in the MOA; no pattern work at home base. I figured since I couldn't get my legs to stop shaking by the time I did my first pattern, I had no business trying anymore landings. All in all, it was a wasted training sortie. Or was it?

On that day almost 13 years ago, I made all the wrong decisions. I was wrong and yet for some reason, I'm still here. Looking back, I made three mistakes that day.

Mistake number one was violating Technical Order (T.O.) guidance. Dash-1 limits are established for a reason ... most of them have been written in blood. They're not just good advice. They're the law!

Mistake number two was thinking I was invincible. I was a big Tweet solo student gunning to be a fighter pilot! "There's nothing I can't handle," or so I thought. I was wrong.

And mistake number three ... well, mistake number three was not telling my story about this until now.

Besides being an integrity issue, in my current job, that of a mishap investigator for the HQ Air Force Safety Center (AFSC), I too often see the results of T.O. noncompliance, bad decisions, breaches of flight discipline, and poor ORM to name a few. If you're lucky, you only lose an aircraft. If you're not, you may lose your life or someone else's.

I was lucky that day. It's a sortie I've never forgotten. Believe me. I tell you all about it now in the hopes that some young, "dumb" pilot won't make the same mistakes I did way back when. I don't want to get the call at AFSC that we've had a mishap. And I really don't want to be notified that I'm the AFSC representative on a fatality-involved mishap. Follow the T.O.s, know your Dash-1, listen to IP and flight leads, and only do what is briefed. And if you're an IP, don't be afraid to share your scary stories with young pilots. They can learn from your past buffoonery. These are only a few of the foundations which will help you "just bring the jet back."

MAJ GREGORY NEWMAN

HQ AFSC/SEFF Kirtland AFB NM