Once I'd dealt with the Medical Clearance issue, my next obstacle was overcoming my fear of flying itself. The morning of my first training flight in a TH-55A (Osage) training helicopter is a day forever burned into my brain. Your first flight in flight school with your instructor is called "The Nickel Ride". It is tradition, that on your first training flight, you give your instructor a nickel minted in the year of your birth. This first flight is also the only "freebie" you get while in flight school. There is no grade, no expectation, no criticism, just a fun time getting familiar with the helicopter, your instructor & the landscape of southern Alabama.
My "Nickel Ride" started out with high expectations, as I'd been waiting to fly for 9 months while on "Medical Hold" status working as a clerk in the company supply room. I met my instructor, Mr. Hugh Rhodes, at our desk in the flight briefing room. He introduced himself, & we went downstairs to operations, checked the weather forecast, & got our aircraft assignment & keys. The weather was good, partly cloudy, minimum ceiling of 10000 ft, 39 Degrees F & a light wind from the southwest. We walked out on the tarmac & for the first time I got to see up close 300+ Orange Bubble canopied helicopters.
We located our bird, & began our pre-flight inspection. I could hardly control my excitement & concentrate on my following Mr. Rhodes around the helicopter paying close attention to how he performed the inspection. The pre-flight completed, we strapped into the helicopter. We'd had one discussion about the helicopter configuration, fly with the doors on, or with the doors off. Since we were both wearing jackets, we opted for doors off. Mr. Rhodes read off the checklist while I performed the startup steps & soon we had the engine started, the rotors turning & I turned the controls over to Mr. Rhodes. Transfer of the controls is done verbally with 3 steps, then followed by a visual check. (ME) "You have the controls." (Hugh) "I have the controls." (ME) "You have the controls." Then I look & confirm he has hold of the controls while I let go of them. My mission at this point was tuning the radio frequencies for Ground Control & Tower & to enjoy the show.
My excitement was building, Mr. Rhodes radioed for taxi clearance & we were cleared to the nearest takeoff helipad on the west side of the airfield. It took about 5 minutes as there were numerous other TH-55a's all trying to leave at the same time. Finally, we're hovering just short of the helipad & we frequency change to Tower. Tower clears us unto the pad, gives us the current wind & altimeter information & clears us for takeoff & a departure from the airfield to the Northwest. We're hovering at about 3 feet, & Hugh starts us moving forward & at about 15 miles an hours, the helicopter starts to climb. The takeoff path is over pastures & we fly over fences & cattle as we continue the climb-out. As we pass through about 50 feet, I have a revelation. I'm scared of heights. This isn't just being nervous, I'd been nervous all morning. This is irrational, overwhelming, total panic. This helicopter is SO SMALL, there is SO LITTLE to it, it seems SO FRAGILE, I have no confidence in the aircraft at all. The design of the helicopter is very basic, a bubble canopy, on top of a 6 cylinder air cooled engine (Similar to a Volkswagen engine) 2 skids & the tailboom. The entire craft, passengers, fuel & all weigh a MAXIMUM of 1570 lbs.
We climb up to our cruising altitude of 600ft AGL (Above Ground Level) & are flying generally north bound & I'm trying hard to suppress my fear. I haven't said anything to Mr. Rhodes & he seems unaware of any problems I'm having. The flight itself is simplistic, straight & level flight, simple standard rate turns, nothing aerobatic or unexpected. In short, nothing to fear, just a walk in the park. Hugh is pointing out landmarks I'll need to learn for navigation, & for a moment I'm not too scared, as I'm astonished about how FLAT southern Alabama is when seen from above. Then I looked down, (bad idea), as I could look between my feet & see the ground. Cattle look like ants. Railroad tracks look like thread. Fear rears it's ugly head again.
While I'm dealing with renewed panic, Mr. Rhodes decides it's time for me to take the controls. I'd been warned that on the 1st flight, the instructor might have you steer using the cyclic control, or use the pedals to maintain the aircraft trim, or the collective control to maintain altitude. Hugh says: "You have the controls." I reply: "Which one?" Hugh says: "All of them." then repeats "You have the controls." Slowly, with great trepidation, I ease my feet onto the pedals, grasp the Collective/throttle with my left hand, grasp the Cyclic with my right, & squeeze the intercom trigger & say: "I have the controls." Hugh says: "You have the controls." At this point he lets go & I am flying the aircraft. Hugh, sits back & Crosses his arms! Ahhhh!
I'm amazed that we haven't died yet. I've maintaining straight & level for the most part & even manage a couple slow turns left & right. We fly on for 8 maybe 10 minutes (It seems like forever) without major mishaps. We do encounter on effect that is to say the least, unnerving. The TH-55a has a horizontal stabilizer opposite the tail rotor. It is about 2 feet long, & angled upwards 30 degrees. This has the disconcerting effect, when you have a tailwind from the Left-Rear, of causing the aircraft to porpoise up and down if you aren't pro-active in preventing it from occurring. We got into this effect twice, each time Hugh would put his hands on the controls just long enough to stop the oscillations, then sit back again.
While all this is occurring, Hugh is complementing me on my calm demeanor, & how measured my actions are while flying. Finally, I can't take it anymore, & tell Mr. Rhodes that what he is perceiving as calm, cool, & collected, is actually a controlled panic! I'm too scared to move. He takes pity on me, takes the controls & has me try & site back & relax for the balance of the flight. The flight is soon over, we complete our post-flight inspection, & return to the briefing room for the debrief. All my classmates are yelling & screaming & excited, while I'm quite & depressed. I'm wondering "What did I get myself in to this time?" After a long day of reflection, long into the early morning hour the next day, I decided to give it 2 weeks to see if I could deal with the fears that had overwhelmed me. After 2 weeks, it wasn't so bad, the fear was still there, but the panic was gone. Fear I could & did learn to deal with as a pilot, though I'm still afraid of heights to this day.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
My adventures in becoming an Army Helicopter Pilot
I've been told, that I need to write down some of my experiences, because they need to be published. I find that a bit of a stretch, but I'll try & do it anyway.
Most of my "interesting tales" have to do with my experiences as a helicopter pilot in the United States Army. I guess the first of such tales should be how I became a helicopter pilot in the first place. I was a sergeant in Alpha Battery, 1st Battalion of the 37th Field Artillery, 172nd Light Infantry Brigade (Arctic), stationed at Fort Richardson, Alaska. The year was 1986. I'd always wished I could be a pilot as long as I could remember, & had been especially interested since 1984 when my older brother Richard had tried to become a helicopter pilot. (In a sense, he blazed the trail for me, but that is later) I was reading a post newsletter & read an article that reported that the Army was accepting applications for the Initial Entry Rotary Wing Aviator Course (IERWAC) "Helicopter Flight School" in English, & that I had one window of opportunity to apply before I would be too old to go to the school. This was a rhetorical comment since my wife Anna had stated years earlier that she'd never be married to a pilot. To my astonishment, she told me to apply for the school. She said (Accurately) that if she stopped me from trying, that this issue would forever be between us. So she said, increase your life insurance & apply for flight school.
After taking the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) a 4th time, taking & passing the Flight Aptitude Selection Test (FAST) & the most grueling physical I've ever had, I submitted my packet to the Department of the Army (DA), then I waited. The waiting seemed to go on forever, but eventually, I was informed that I was selected for training, & was given orders to report for Duty in April 1987 to Fort Rucker, Alabama. Between my acceptance & my departure from Alaska, I was notified that my flight physical has some irregularities & needed to be repeated. This was done with a little trepidation, but no big deal, since I'd already done it once. The physical is a big deal becoming an aviator, as failing the physical is the way most people who are otherwise qualified are booted from the program. In preparation for my reporting for duty as a Warrant Officer Candidate, I started an increased physical training regime with the Scouts in my new unit (I had been transferred from the Artillery to the 5th Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment during the application process). The Infantry Scouts are the most elite of the infantry in Alaska, & their physical training routine was very intense. They allowed me to train with them & by the time I left Alaska I was in the best shape of my life. Little did I know how much I'd need it.
Arriving in Alabama in April after leaving Alaska in March is traumatic. My last day in Alaska was -20 degrees (that was the High) my arrival in Alabama it was 70 (That was the Low). The change in climate was grueling. I had to pass a Physical Training test (PT Test) within 30 days of arrival. Acclimatization to the southern Alabama climate was a bear. I passed the test the 29th day, at age 29 at sic O'clock in the morning. My next challenge was the Warrant Officer Entry Course (WOEC). WOEC was the 1st six weeks of the 9 months I was going to spend in flight school training. I'd already spent an additional two weeks as a "Snowbird" awaiting an active training class. (Students are assigned to the snowbird platoon as a holding assignment until there is space in an active training platoon. Classes start every two weeks & there can be up to 250 people assigned as snowbirds.) One lesson I learned quickly was that any time on hold was in addition to the nine month total for the training course. More on that later.
There were three platoons in rotation (Red, White & Blue) in the entry course. My training platoon was the Blue Platoon. I'll discuss details of WOEC later, but I managed to graduate WOEC without any major problems one way or another. Oh yes, did I mention that once you got to Ft. Rucker, you got another Class 1 flight Physical? Seems the flight school staff doesn't trust physicals done at other locations, even though they were reviewed by the medical staff at Ft. Rucker. This 3rd flight physical nearly ended my flying career.
I reported to Bravo Company (the flight training company) after finishing my WOEC at Alpha Company. I was now part of the Rainbow platoon. (Rainbow is the same status in B Co. that Snowbird was in A Co. Waiting to start training) The first thing that I learnt upon my arrival in B Co. was that I'd been placed on Medical Hold. I was told this was no big deal (about 10% of students get at least 1 medical hold) & they are usually resolved in a week or two. The biggest disappointment of this hold, was that most of my friends I'd made in WOEC were now starting training ahead of me.
Medical hold ended up being a nine-month endeavor of its own for me. I had been flagged due to my blood & urine chemistry being abnormal. Specifically, high blood & urine calcium. four months of testing, & three trips to Eisenhower Army Medical Center in Ft Gordon, GA. Finally resulted in a diagnosis of 1st Degree Hyperparathyroidism (isn't that a mouthful). This determination was made after 90 blood tests, A nuclear scan (Inconclusive) & evaluation by the Endocrinologist. What was the treatment? Exploratory surgery of my neck! Needless to say, I wasn't excited by this prospect. My throat was basically going to be cut from ear to ear, then opened up to expose the Thyroid Gland. On the back side, at each corner, is a pea sized parathyroid gland. The surgeon would look for a tumorous gland, & remove it.
I spent Friday night (after being admitted as an inpatient) & the entire weekend trying to research the condition I'd been diagnosed with to help me make my decision to have the surgery. I'd already upset my intern (Dr. Tuttle) when he was telling me the surgery & it's risks when I'd mentioned that if I was still in the hospital on Tuesday morning, they could do the surgery. As luck would have it, cable TV came to my rescue. The Learning Channel had a program called Surgery Update & of all things that week, the topic was Hyperparathyroidism. It seemed unbelievable, but it is the truth. The show told me all I'd been trying to learn in vain (my access to information was quite limited in the hospital & there was no Internet in 1987. My condition was normally found in Women over 50, rarely seen in Men, almost never seen under 30. Only one treatment, SURGERY. Now all I had to deal with was possible complications. Just little things, a 10% chance of losing my voice, a 50% chance of a major change in my voice & of course the ever present I might die in surgery.
It is hard to describe the terror I felt those four days. I’d had surgeries before and the process of going through a surgery wasn’t the issue. This was the first time that I didn’t have a cut and dried prognosis of a remedy to my need for surgery. Hernia repair, that is pretty clear. Having a small tumor removed from the bicep, again, pretty clear. The was no assurance with this surgery on either what they would find nor if the procedure itself would cause me other problems. My army career also depended on the results of this surgery. (More than I knew at the time, but that is addressed a bit later.) But I was laying there, away from my wife and family. This was before the Internet and cell phones and easy long-distance communication. I was isolated and feeling very alone sitting in a four-man ward on the 11th floor. I both dreaded Tuesday’s arrival but also welcomed the end of the waiting.
Surgery went well, voice intact & blood chemistry normal. I then had 90 days of postoperative testing to confirm I have been cured, then, since I'd never finished my third flight physical, it was time for a fourth. After passing the fourth flight physical, I was finally given the cherished "UP SLIP" officially known as a medical clearance to fly. Armed with this, I was assigned to Royal Blue Flight, & began my flight training.
Three and a half weeks later, I received a message to visit the Consult Clerk at the hospital. This was a fairly routine event as I'd visited the clerk (Mrs. Barnett) about once a week for 9 months to pick up test results for Ft. Gordon to be placed in my medical file. This visit was different. As I entered her office, her normally bright smile disappeared as soon as she saw me enter. I looked at her and said: "I've been medically DQ'd haven't I?" She told me that I had & went on to explain that I should have never been given flight clearance at all, since the tumor I'd had was clearly a disqualifying condition. She showed me the regulation, just one sentence. "Any history of an Endocrine condition" is class 1 disqualifying. The rest of the conversation was friendly but a bit muted, & as I turned to leave she made the comment: "it's just too bad that you haven't flown yet." I halted in the doorway hearing her comment, smartly performed an "About-Face" drill movement, & smiled like a Cheshire Cat. She saw me grinning from ear to ear behind my aviator sunglasses, and she asked if I'd flown yet. I replied that I had twelve hours of flight time & was nearly knocked to the floor as she ran from her office her skirt flying in the breeze as she ran down the hall. Two minutes later, she walked back in the office smiling & told me: "Never mind, your waiver will come to you in the mail." As it turns out, once you fly, you don't have to meet Class 1 flight standards, but Class 2. In class 2, my condition could be waived. So with my waiver in hand, flight training continued.
Most of my "interesting tales" have to do with my experiences as a helicopter pilot in the United States Army. I guess the first of such tales should be how I became a helicopter pilot in the first place. I was a sergeant in Alpha Battery, 1st Battalion of the 37th Field Artillery, 172nd Light Infantry Brigade (Arctic), stationed at Fort Richardson, Alaska. The year was 1986. I'd always wished I could be a pilot as long as I could remember, & had been especially interested since 1984 when my older brother Richard had tried to become a helicopter pilot. (In a sense, he blazed the trail for me, but that is later) I was reading a post newsletter & read an article that reported that the Army was accepting applications for the Initial Entry Rotary Wing Aviator Course (IERWAC) "Helicopter Flight School" in English, & that I had one window of opportunity to apply before I would be too old to go to the school. This was a rhetorical comment since my wife Anna had stated years earlier that she'd never be married to a pilot. To my astonishment, she told me to apply for the school. She said (Accurately) that if she stopped me from trying, that this issue would forever be between us. So she said, increase your life insurance & apply for flight school.
After taking the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) a 4th time, taking & passing the Flight Aptitude Selection Test (FAST) & the most grueling physical I've ever had, I submitted my packet to the Department of the Army (DA), then I waited. The waiting seemed to go on forever, but eventually, I was informed that I was selected for training, & was given orders to report for Duty in April 1987 to Fort Rucker, Alabama. Between my acceptance & my departure from Alaska, I was notified that my flight physical has some irregularities & needed to be repeated. This was done with a little trepidation, but no big deal, since I'd already done it once. The physical is a big deal becoming an aviator, as failing the physical is the way most people who are otherwise qualified are booted from the program. In preparation for my reporting for duty as a Warrant Officer Candidate, I started an increased physical training regime with the Scouts in my new unit (I had been transferred from the Artillery to the 5th Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment during the application process). The Infantry Scouts are the most elite of the infantry in Alaska, & their physical training routine was very intense. They allowed me to train with them & by the time I left Alaska I was in the best shape of my life. Little did I know how much I'd need it.
Arriving in Alabama in April after leaving Alaska in March is traumatic. My last day in Alaska was -20 degrees (that was the High) my arrival in Alabama it was 70 (That was the Low). The change in climate was grueling. I had to pass a Physical Training test (PT Test) within 30 days of arrival. Acclimatization to the southern Alabama climate was a bear. I passed the test the 29th day, at age 29 at sic O'clock in the morning. My next challenge was the Warrant Officer Entry Course (WOEC). WOEC was the 1st six weeks of the 9 months I was going to spend in flight school training. I'd already spent an additional two weeks as a "Snowbird" awaiting an active training class. (Students are assigned to the snowbird platoon as a holding assignment until there is space in an active training platoon. Classes start every two weeks & there can be up to 250 people assigned as snowbirds.) One lesson I learned quickly was that any time on hold was in addition to the nine month total for the training course. More on that later.
There were three platoons in rotation (Red, White & Blue) in the entry course. My training platoon was the Blue Platoon. I'll discuss details of WOEC later, but I managed to graduate WOEC without any major problems one way or another. Oh yes, did I mention that once you got to Ft. Rucker, you got another Class 1 flight Physical? Seems the flight school staff doesn't trust physicals done at other locations, even though they were reviewed by the medical staff at Ft. Rucker. This 3rd flight physical nearly ended my flying career.
I reported to Bravo Company (the flight training company) after finishing my WOEC at Alpha Company. I was now part of the Rainbow platoon. (Rainbow is the same status in B Co. that Snowbird was in A Co. Waiting to start training) The first thing that I learnt upon my arrival in B Co. was that I'd been placed on Medical Hold. I was told this was no big deal (about 10% of students get at least 1 medical hold) & they are usually resolved in a week or two. The biggest disappointment of this hold, was that most of my friends I'd made in WOEC were now starting training ahead of me.
Medical hold ended up being a nine-month endeavor of its own for me. I had been flagged due to my blood & urine chemistry being abnormal. Specifically, high blood & urine calcium. four months of testing, & three trips to Eisenhower Army Medical Center in Ft Gordon, GA. Finally resulted in a diagnosis of 1st Degree Hyperparathyroidism (isn't that a mouthful). This determination was made after 90 blood tests, A nuclear scan (Inconclusive) & evaluation by the Endocrinologist. What was the treatment? Exploratory surgery of my neck! Needless to say, I wasn't excited by this prospect. My throat was basically going to be cut from ear to ear, then opened up to expose the Thyroid Gland. On the back side, at each corner, is a pea sized parathyroid gland. The surgeon would look for a tumorous gland, & remove it.
I spent Friday night (after being admitted as an inpatient) & the entire weekend trying to research the condition I'd been diagnosed with to help me make my decision to have the surgery. I'd already upset my intern (Dr. Tuttle) when he was telling me the surgery & it's risks when I'd mentioned that if I was still in the hospital on Tuesday morning, they could do the surgery. As luck would have it, cable TV came to my rescue. The Learning Channel had a program called Surgery Update & of all things that week, the topic was Hyperparathyroidism. It seemed unbelievable, but it is the truth. The show told me all I'd been trying to learn in vain (my access to information was quite limited in the hospital & there was no Internet in 1987. My condition was normally found in Women over 50, rarely seen in Men, almost never seen under 30. Only one treatment, SURGERY. Now all I had to deal with was possible complications. Just little things, a 10% chance of losing my voice, a 50% chance of a major change in my voice & of course the ever present I might die in surgery.
It is hard to describe the terror I felt those four days. I’d had surgeries before and the process of going through a surgery wasn’t the issue. This was the first time that I didn’t have a cut and dried prognosis of a remedy to my need for surgery. Hernia repair, that is pretty clear. Having a small tumor removed from the bicep, again, pretty clear. The was no assurance with this surgery on either what they would find nor if the procedure itself would cause me other problems. My army career also depended on the results of this surgery. (More than I knew at the time, but that is addressed a bit later.) But I was laying there, away from my wife and family. This was before the Internet and cell phones and easy long-distance communication. I was isolated and feeling very alone sitting in a four-man ward on the 11th floor. I both dreaded Tuesday’s arrival but also welcomed the end of the waiting.
Surgery went well, voice intact & blood chemistry normal. I then had 90 days of postoperative testing to confirm I have been cured, then, since I'd never finished my third flight physical, it was time for a fourth. After passing the fourth flight physical, I was finally given the cherished "UP SLIP" officially known as a medical clearance to fly. Armed with this, I was assigned to Royal Blue Flight, & began my flight training.
Three and a half weeks later, I received a message to visit the Consult Clerk at the hospital. This was a fairly routine event as I'd visited the clerk (Mrs. Barnett) about once a week for 9 months to pick up test results for Ft. Gordon to be placed in my medical file. This visit was different. As I entered her office, her normally bright smile disappeared as soon as she saw me enter. I looked at her and said: "I've been medically DQ'd haven't I?" She told me that I had & went on to explain that I should have never been given flight clearance at all, since the tumor I'd had was clearly a disqualifying condition. She showed me the regulation, just one sentence. "Any history of an Endocrine condition" is class 1 disqualifying. The rest of the conversation was friendly but a bit muted, & as I turned to leave she made the comment: "it's just too bad that you haven't flown yet." I halted in the doorway hearing her comment, smartly performed an "About-Face" drill movement, & smiled like a Cheshire Cat. She saw me grinning from ear to ear behind my aviator sunglasses, and she asked if I'd flown yet. I replied that I had twelve hours of flight time & was nearly knocked to the floor as she ran from her office her skirt flying in the breeze as she ran down the hall. Two minutes later, she walked back in the office smiling & told me: "Never mind, your waiver will come to you in the mail." As it turns out, once you fly, you don't have to meet Class 1 flight standards, but Class 2. In class 2, my condition could be waived. So with my waiver in hand, flight training continued.
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