Some of the "Different" things that people do in Flight school

There was always an ever present anxiety for candidates in flight school that you might "Wash Out' or get "Recycled" during training. Washing out is a pretty accurate description of managing to fail in training so severely that you are removed from the course all together. If all the schools I attended in the military, the flight school attrition rate was the highest I encountered. I was in flight school twice as long as the average candidate (as noted in previous posts) due to a medical hold and I saw a lot of people depart the program without graduating. Some couldn't take the pressure and resigned (One of these was apparently a natural pilot who couldn't deal with fear of flying.) others trying to stick it out and failed due to inability to meet the training criteria. (I almost made that list too.)

Getting recycled, like it implies means you restart part of the training. This can be due to several factors like failing a checkride, getting injured or like me a medical hold keeping grounded so you cannot fly. Some of these can be avoided, some things you can gut it out and others like medical hold have to be endured. One of the badges of distinction in getting recycled is the accumulation of colored flight (platoon) baseball caps as you move from one flight to another flight behind you in training to retake that section of training. I think the record while I was there was a candidate who was a member of 5 different flights and still graduated.

I was supposed to be in Light Blue flight (class 87-09 I believe) and ended up in Royal Blue flight class 88-02 after cooling my heels on medical hold and assigned a make work job in the training company supply room when I wasn't temporary duty (TDY) to Fort Gordon, GA for tests, surgery, and more tests. During this stay on hold, I started my interest in personal computing which eventually resulted in my post army career.

I digress, as the idea of this post is about some of the things we did to avoid getting recycled. The easiest way to flunk a Department of the Army (DA) school is to fail the physical training (PT) test. I will be the first to admit that I have never been an athlete. But at times I have been fairly athletic when I had sufficient motivation to be so. I did more physical training prior to flight school than I had for any other even in my life. Once I was in the Warrant Officer Entry Course (WOEC) I felt a lot of pressure to lose weight and to get in better physical condition. Part of that I did inadvertently getting tasked as the Administrative Officer for my training flight which required me to go to the headquarters building 8 times a day, and that resulted in my doing 64 pull ups a day minimum (4 4-count pull-ups going in, and 4 more going out. You had to do pull-ups any time you based the pull-up bars conveniently located just outside the building.). I dropped from 215 lbs and from being close to  my MAX weight to a svelte 184 lbs. (I was 6 foot 3 inches at the time.) Likely the best shape of my life. The other thing I did to help my conditioning was run road guard during PT.

Running in formation is boring, If you are above the average height, it can also be painful as it limits your stride. There are two ways you can run PT and not be in the block formation during the run. You can call the cadence that the formation is singing or you can run road guard and stop traffic at intersections during the run. I have done both, but in this training environment, since I was focusing on conditioning, road guard better suited my plan. There were 6 road guards in the PT formation giving me better odds for one of those opportunities.

I preferred the front road guard position, and we quickly established who would run each position. As we got in better condition, we changed things up out of boredom by doing something extra before we took our position to stop traffic. We would go off to the grass and knock out a quick 10 pushups then get up and move into the intersection and stop traffic. This worked out well until I stepped into a concealed hole an sprained my ankle.

Any injury that resulted in a "Profile" (an exemption from XXX task). Your profile could last no more than 72 hours without major consequences. If you were on profile for a longer period, you had to say goodbye to you teammates, because you were getting recycled and you got to start making all new friends in a group that has already gelled into a fairly cohesive group. If that sounds like being an outsider, you get the correct impression. I got lucky in that my injury occurred on a Friday morning. My ankle sprain was severe enough that I was placed on "Quarters" and had to return for a re-eval of the injury in 72-hours. Quarters is the army equivalent to getting sent to your room. No training and the only time I could leave the barracks was to go to the dining facility. I got lucky at lunch as one of my classmates brought me a sandwich so I could stay in my bunk and keep the ice on my ankle. Dinner that night and the weekend meals ensured that I got practice with my crutches as walking on that ankle wasn't an option and the dining facility was 500 yards away from the barracks.

Monday was my day of reckoning, I had to get off profile and be returned to training. So that morning, I strained to get that foot into my Corcoran Jump Boot, and laced that thing as tight as humanly possible, then I proceeded to use those crutches until the last moment, when I went in to see the Flight Surgeon for re-eval. He was impressed as I strolled in and hopped up on the exam table and took the boot and sock off. The ankle was all sorts of black, blue and purple and he moved it all around and asked me how it felt. I said it was a bit tender but generally it looked much worse than it felt and I was returned to normal duty. The pain was horrid, but I wasn't going to admit that and dealt with it and nursed it through the rest of the week. The following Monday I was back at PT road guard, and paid better attention to where I stepped.

About 8 months later, a buddy (Mark) and I were nearing graduation and we played 1 on 1 basketball as PT due to flying on Night 1 (Sundown to Midnight) or Night 2 (Midnight to Dawn) schedules and that meant getting PT on your own. We played a fairly physical game of basketball with Mark on the perimeter playing guard and I played the post based on our speed and builds. Mark was always faster than I was and that lead to me reacting slow to a fake he made moving to my left. As he came around on my right I hit him in the forehead with my elbow and laid him out flat. We didn't think much of it until he stood up and noticed a 10 centimeter vertical gash in his right eyebrow. I grabbed a rag and he put on his eyebrow to stop the bleeding. We jumped into my car and off to the emergency room (ER) at the base hospital we went.

When we arrived at the ER, the doctor evaluated him and as we feared, he needed stitches. Since we were actively flying, Mark's concern was getting grounded. The 72-hour rule applied as anytime you are given an anesthetic, you are grounded for a 7-days. Faced with the option of getting recycled, he opted for stitches, without anesthesia. The doctor was a bit taken aback, but he understood we were Warrant Officer Candidates (WOCs) and I'm sure he'd seen similar stunts. Mark was sewn up without further incident (he didn't make a sound during the procedure.) and he related that he'd experienced worse things, but he couldn't think of one offhand. Our flight training continued without further incident. Mark and I both graduated in the same flights that we were initially assigned to when we started out flight training and avoided the scourge of being recycled (Just barely).

Basic Combat Skills

Basic Combat Skills (BCS) was arguably my favorite period in flight school. I'd just finished Advanced Instruments and gone through a rest period where I had two classroom classes over a two week period and no other flight school assignments. This was fortunate as my wife's Mustang had spun a bearing and I used that time off to overhaul her engine. (That car and same engine are sitting in the garage behind me 39 years later?) Regardless, I was ready to fly again and have some fun.

The main learning task of BCS is land navigation, at a low altitude at 90 knots. Southern Alabama looks entirely different less than 100 ft. above the trees and figuring out your 90 knot finger as you follow along on the map is a learned skill. There are few landmarks that you can readily identify at a glance in the training area. The Northwest corridor from Lowe Army Heliport ended at a distinctive hill called Ringtop. It was so named because the contour elevation lines on the map were concentric rings. It was also just about the only natural landmark you could see at a distance. Most other landmarks were water towers, radio towers and power lines. All of which you generally wanted to avoid.

BCS was also a change in how we were taught. We were three students per instructor instead of the two we'd had previously and our instructors were now active duty Army instructor pilots, not Flight Safety civilian instructors. My Stick buddies had both come from Air Force enlisted ranks to be Army pilots. Their names were Tyrone Winkler and Tim Sahagan. Our instructor was Chief Warrant Officer 2 (CW2) Mike McCurdy. Mike had most recently been assigned to I Corps in Korea where he was the pilot for the commanding general. Mike was a very personable fellow and could be quiet amusing. He had a very laid back style and treated us all like fellow pilots and most like someone he was testing. It was very refreshing. He made the training fun, not easy mind you but fun.

The typical training flight was 4 hours, and we all got roughly 80 minutes flying, 80 minutes navigating and 80 minutes as a passenger. When flying, like always we were in the right pilot's seat (Generally designated the co-pilot's seat) because that side had better instrumentation configuration than the left seat. Outside of a training environment, the Pilot in Command generally chose the left seat and the co-pilot who actually did most the flying sat in the right. When you were navigating, you sat in the crew chief seat, directly behind the center console and between the two pilot seats. As a passenger, you got to side in the door well on either the left or the right side, depending on where the auxiliary fuel cell was placed. UH-1D/H series aircraft had options for two extra fuel cells in the door wells on the left and right sides. Our aircraft were only equipped with 1 and the passenger sat on the opposite side to help improve the off center weight and balance of the aircraft.

Each student had been taught how to make a map book of the training area, that folded neatly and allowed you to move from one map sheet to the next adjacent map just by turning the page. We also had to check daily for updates to the master hazards map in operations before every flight to ensure we knew where all the hazards were in the training area. The training area we flew in was 95% public land, so the Army had no control about what was done and new hazards to navigation were always appearing. I can attest that a 500 ft. tall radio tower can appear overnight. Makes for a bad experience when you fly into one.

We were tasked with learning how to fly at high speed and low level from one point to another using the terrain as cover and concealment to try and hide our presence. Navigation was often from one open field in the woods to another open field 50 miles away. These remote training areas were also marked on your map and had 2 circles drawn around them 1 kilometer and 3 kilometers in diameter. Each landing area had a code name and a FM radio frequency assigned to it. When approaching, you made a radio call to everyone (a call in the blind) announcing what you were doing in the area, You could be landing heading 180 degrees. You could be taking off heading 090. You could also be passing the LZ and you wold state passing north of it for example east to west. If you heard a call when you were in one of these areas, you would respond with your location and if you had a Tally Ho (you could see) the other aircraft. The training area was over 100 square miles, but with a density of 60 to 90 aircraft zipping around hugging the valley contours you had to be careful. Mid-air collisions are not pretty.

In landing areas, we practiced all kinds of hover work. Making forward observer observations where you would hover up behind a tree line, then pop up above the trees for 1 to 3 seconds then drop back down to your 3-foot hover and move away before something unfriendly arrived at that location like a theoretical mortar shell. Then you'd talk about what you saw, and discussed how to better do the maneuver (two pilots, you divide the area into sections, each scans their section, this way you get a better observation of the area. The rest of the training was either flying at low level from one place to another or being the navigator for such flights. If you were the passenger, you just tried to remember when your buddies goofed.

My most memorable day in BCS started with Tim, riding as passenger, Tyrone navigating and I was playing pilot. Mr. McCurdy was in a playful mood and we took off from Lowe and headed out toward Ringtop to enter the training area (On the map it is shown as the Rose Hill Military Operations Area [MOA]). We headed to the south simpler by Mr. McCurdy telling Tyrone lets go to thes LZ (I can't remember the name) but it was in the southeast part of the training area. I mentioned water towers earlier and here is why they were important. If you flew near a water tower, you were near a town. Flying over towns in southern Alabama is considered rude by the populace and gets many annoyed callers complaining to the Fort. So flying over populated areas in so say the least frowned upon. The basic rule is, if you see a water tower, turn away.

Tyrone is a great guy, and he was a pretty fair pilot, but he sucked at land navigation. Now the terrain in that area isn't too helpful, as the main landmarks are subtle. The pea river flows south through the area to the gulf. But the river is very flat and wide and has few distinctive features. To make things worse, Indian Creek is a tributary that flows into the the Pea River and is nearly as wide and is almost due south, (it is 200 degrees, Pea River is 180 degrees) so it isn't too hard to momentarily mistake one for the other, until you look around a bit. Apparently in the Air Force, land navigation isn't a oft used skill, in the Army this is a different story. My worst score on any land navigation course I've ever tested on was 100%. Land navigation and map reading are may best skills. And I can generally remember what the map says after I've related it to the ground I'm navigating. It is hard to get me lost.

Mike (The instructor you remember) has already figured out that I'm good with a map and a decent pilot at a minimum. We've been at this for more than a few days and our check rides will be coming up soon. Today he is much more interested in teaching Tyrone to read maps and he doesn't seem real concerned with what maneuvers I'm doing in route to whatever field he's told Tyrone to find. So we're zipping around the southern edge of the MOA and he send Tyrone heading north to RT210 or such. Creeks and rivers are the low areas, so in low level flight, these are our highways in the sky, just very low highways. Tyrone has me flying up the Pea River and I can already tell he is lost and confused as he isn't really giving me any navigation guidance. I tell him I'm flying 020, (just slightly right of due north) and he replies "Continue". Since I'm on the right side of the river, and Indian Creek branched off to the right, and the Pea River is the left side heading 355 (just slightly left of due north)  I know Tyrone has to tell me to turn if we are going to head toward our destination and avoid other things. I mention there is a split in the river and I need to go left or right and he says "Go right stay 020". I look over at Mr. McCurdy with a plaintive look an he just gives the barest shake of his head letting me know I am to follow my navigator and keep my mouth shut.

So here we go, heading up Indian Creek and Tyrone is clueless. As a general practice, the pilot mentions landmarks as they are approached so I start picking out ones I KNOW are not on the Pea River hoping to give Tyrone a clue, but it is hopeless. I mention a dam and lake on the left. I mention another landmark over to the right, and finally I mention a water tower at 12 o'clock. Again I look over at Mike, and again the barest shake of his head "No" and Tyrone says "Continue". About 30 seconds later, I'm blasting over Andalusia Alabama at about 100 Ft. above the ground. Mr. McCurdy signals me to climb and has me make a right turn and head back down Indian Creek. As we go down, the creek, Mike has me point out thinks Tyrone should have seen and I explain where we are on the map as we get back to the Pea River and I make a lazy right turn and head of the river.

We fly in to refuel and do the student change, Tyrone Flying, Tim navigating and I'm not a passenger along for the ride. This portion was fairly typical and started with low-level cross country, a pass through the nap of the earth course, (low and slow skids almost in the trees kind of stuff and then hover work, concealment and spot observations practice. Then we landed in the LZ and rotated positions again. Tim flying, Tyrone in the right side bay passenger and I was the navigator.

Normal housekeeping when you were the Navigator was to place you map book between one of the pilot seats and the center console that contained all the avionics (Communication radios, navigation aids and intercom equipment). Since we were already in the LZ, we started with the hover work and excepts for spot observations practice where everyone participated, I was pretty much a passenger while Tim was getting his training from Mr. McCurdy. finally it was time to return to base and Mr. McCurdy told me to take us home. I reached forward for my map book and Mike said "What are you doing? You are Sky King the Navigator, you don't need a damn map!" looking at me over his right shoulder with a big grin. Never being one to back away from a map reading challenge, I put the map back and told Tim "Fly heading 120".

Now this wasn't a really difficult route back, it was more or less a fairly straight shot southeast to Ringtop where we would enter the northwest corridor back into Lowe. The challenge to me was could I warn Tim of all the obstacles ahead of him, remember what training LZs were ahead and the FM radio frequencies he had to monitor while passing the locations. The 1st challenge was a set of electric high power transmission lines just after the crest of a hill we were flying up. I told him the wires were just past the crest and to go over the wires at the tower (When crossing wires, you always go over a tower/pole as that assures you of crossing it at the highest point ensuring you don't hit a wire). We passed three designated landing areas and about 5 Km out from each I gave Tim the LZ name and frequency and how we were passing it "Approaching LZ Delta, 70.15, passing to the east of the LZ north to south" was a typical example.

This was a uncharacteristically quite flight back to the airfield with only the sounds of the helicopter and the radios. Usually Mr. McCurdy was pointing out one thing or another or providing feedback on how the student was flying. But it was the end of the day, we were heading to the barn and Tim was a good stick and needed little direction on how to maneuver a UH-1H. After passing the last LZ and 2 or 3 minutes short of Ringtop, Tyrone keys his microphone and starts a conversations:

Tyrone: "Don, you make me sick."
Me: "Why?"
Tyrone: "There you sit, giving Tim perfect directions. You know where every LZ is, you know all the frequencies and you are doing it from memory. I can't doing ti and I'm using my map!"

What could I say? So I told Tim to switch to the northwest corridor frequency and make a call that he was approaching Ringtop from the northwest. and thus ends the tale of my being christened "Sky King" by my instructor.

Thoughts about a friend from long ago

I first met Jim "Zog" in flight school where he was my roommate in Bravo company. It was an interesting pairing as Jim was the youngest Candidate in the flight and I was the oldest. Jim was the most experienced flyer in the flight as he'd arrived @ age 18 with a private pilot license and had been a member of the Civil Air Patrol, I had ridden in a Huey twice and my fixed wing experience was limited to 4 legs as a passenger on commercial airliners. I was married with 2 (soon to be 3 kids) Jim was of course single.

Sharing a room in flight school is similar to sharing a dorm in college except a lot cleaner and neater. Socially I think it was more like living in a Fraternity. In a way, Jim and I became "Brothers from another Mother" as my sons have said about some of their associates. I pretty much owe my staying in flight school to Jim. He spent what I'm sure was one of the longest nights of his life talking with me in our barracks room which I figured out if I could man up and overcome my newly discovered fear of heights. His youth and energy offset my more conservative ways of thinking and he made some profound impressions upon me that guided me to the correct decision to stay and face what I feared.

I cannot ever recall seeing Jim flustered. He was very analytical yet he had an incredible sense of humor. His humor got me through a lot of hard times during the 10 weeks we were roommates. His standard voicemail on his home answering system was spoken in Russian. He seemed quite fluent though I have no clue how well he actually spoke it since I don't know the language. But it sounded good to me and he spoke it with the ease that only someone comfortable with the language can do.

Like me, after finishing flight school, Jim (2nd in our class ranking) was awarded a CH-47D "Chinook" qualification transition. Jim due to his high class standing, was able to choose his aircraft from the list available, I was awarded mine through dumb luck and a good aircraft preference list. Out flight was allocated 6 Apaches, 2 Blackhawks and 3 Chinooks. The top 10% of the class got to choose their transition (1 Apache, 1 Chinook and the 2 Blackhawks) then the 5 remaining Apaches were assigned and I, ranked 11, got the 2nd Chinook. This was important as this brought Jim and I together again at Fort Campbell KY.

When I arrived at the flight line at Alpha Company, 7th Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment, I found "The Jims" (James Herzog & James Housand) in the "Pilots lounge" aka the ready room at the hangar. I quickly went through my initial readiness training only to stop and help prepare our portion of the unit for the Division Ready Brigade (DRB) deployment to the Gulf War August 12, 1990. Both Jim Herzog and Jim Housand were part of the deployment team and I didn't see them again until I too deployed September 9th.

During the buildup in Saudi prior to the ground war in February 1991, we spent a lot of time waiting in the Desert. It takes time to setup infrastructure and while things were better for me then it was for the team Jim was sent over with, it was much to be desired. Due to our work assignments, I didn't work with Jim but we did see each other in the company area. Our wives were friends and that helped on both ends as my wife was an experience military spouse herding 3 kids and his wife was new to the Army and needed some guidance dealing with the military. Six weeks after I arrived in Saudi (Roughly mid-October) our mail service was upgraded to allow packages and that was the focus of our noon meetings.

When you are deployed, mealtimes are a focal point. You have to eat, and meals are always a social event in the military. The meal service had just been upgraded to "B" rations when I arrived in theatre (B Rations are canned foods in large rectangular service pans that were heated in 55-gallon immersion heaters) and are quite a step up from individual Meal, Ready to Eat (MRE) rations. But B Rats still left a lot to be desired and were tolerable, but there were better things.  Better things came in the mail, and we shared the wealth. Jim suggested we get together at lunch and see what we all had to share thus started a lunch club of sorts. Jim always had some good ideas. We made it through the Gulf War unscathed mostly due to lack of any qualified enemy in the 101st area of operations and we were returned to the states in April of 1991.

One thing that I found unusual was that Zog and I only flew together once, in flight school, during basic combat skills where we had 1 student Solo flight (Zog & I no Instructor) and we cruised around southern Alabama on a fairly nice day. In the 101st, we often studied and did non-flying jobs together but we were both NVG Pilot's-in-Command which kept us from flying the same aircraft. We rotated turns as Air Mission Commanders and he was part of a training flight I was in charge of taking 4 Chinooks full of Infantry to Fort Benning Georgia. Like all missions, once you left the planning table things went to hell and we ended up flying as 4 single ships making instrument flights to Benning.

Most of my memories of Zog center around pilot studies (He was almost always at the flight line unless he had duties elsewhere) and Foxx’s Sub Shop where he preferred his meals vs the dining facility.

I guess it was about a year after our return from Saudi that Zog announced he was taking an early out. He had applied for early release and there was a Reduction in Force (RIF) brewing so the Army approved his request. All too soon, Jim and his Wife Darlene moved to Bowling Green Ohio where she had a job and Jim went to school on his GI Bill. I think we might have gotten a Christmas card or two, but like so many military friendships, ours just drifted away. Both of us were in school, I was soon assigned overseas again and I never heard from Jim again. From time to time, I would try and locate several of my past comrades and I was usually unsuccessful. Until recently.

Earlier this year, Jim Housand looked me up, and since then we've tried to stay in touch and Jim has been the main impetus in my continuing this blog. One of the things we talk about is some of our comrades and he would on occasion mention Zog. So last night I again was searching around the Internet (I learn more every day about finding information and people) and I stumbled across an item that floored me:

James "Jim" A. Herzog

Resident of Santa Clara

Age 42, died on April 14, 2010 at the VA Hospice in Palo Alto.

Jim is survived by his beloved wife and soul-mate, Andrea; his father and step-mother, John and Janet; his mother, Fran; his sister and brother-in-law, Patricia and Scott Inscho; their 2 children, Philip and Todd; his brother and sister-in-law, Stephen and Carol; their 2 children, Allisyn and Andrew; his step-brother and his wife, Mark and Andrea Schaefer; their 2 children, Torri and Cohen; his step-brother Matt Schaefer and his partner Serena, and their 2 children Ashton and Braxton.

Jim is a veteran of the first Gulf War, where he served with honor as a CH-47 helicopter pilot. After returning from the war, Jim graduated at the top of his class at Bowling Green State University, and then completed a Master's degree at Stanford University. Jim rose from engineer to director of an engineering group in his brief career. His wit, humor, and leadership at Ariba and in life will be sorely missed.

A memorial service will be held at the Palo Alto VA hospital on April 24 at 11:00am. Funeral service and inurnment at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, DC will follow on a future date. In lieu of flowers, please consider donations to UCSF Cancer Center for colorectal cancer, website http://cancer.ucsf.edu/howtohelp/.

My ole buddy Jim, the youngest guy in our class dead, 6 years ago, apparently of colon cancer, the same fate my father had met in 2001. The first thing I did was message my new old buddy Jim Housand and let him know Zog had died. The next thing I did was just sit and think. I've been to Arlington once, for my Uncle's interment, it just seemed kinda right Zog ended up there. It just doesn't seem right that he is gone. Damn!

I have a hard time dealing with my own mortality and the fact that way too many of my family members left this plain of existence well too soon, and this was just another blow that came from left field. Jim was born a decade after me and I've already outlived him by 16 years? His passing so young is hard for me to fathom. One thing this did cause me to do was start again in earnest to try and locate some of my past comrades that I might want to communicate with at least one more time. So far I have found three, and established some communication with one. We'll see how this all pans out.

Time for more coffee then some work. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something more upbeat to relate.

The Bi-Weekly celebration in the dining facility

Every second Friday was the Celebration of the Senior flight's departure from Bravo company and the TH-55a. This was at the dinner meal and was the only time you would see beer in the dining facility (I know I was surprised). This was one of the time honored traditions and it was a great stress reliever. Each class attended bringing with them their class cup) Tea size plastic tumbler of the flight color with the flight logo on it (One of the many things that the car washes paid for) and the best part of the evening was the skits.

Every celebration required a short skit about flight school presented by each flight. Like most skits, they were crass, vulgar and generally forgettable. But one skit stands out in my mind. The Maroon Flight TAC was Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall had a reputation for being a real hard ass. He was bad enough to Maroon Flight, but he was death to candidates from other flights, if you encountered him in your daily duties in the company area. He was most known for putting you in the "Rocker" as punishment. Face down on the ground, arms and legs extended and back arched rocking back and forth till Mr. Hall tired of messing with you. (He was a very patient man is seemed.)

Our skit this night was about Mr. Small chewing out our largest candidate (Todd Pryby). Todd stood six-foot six-inches and was a body-builder. 240 lbs. and all muscle. Mr. Small was played by David Guido. David was minimum height (five-foot four-inches or so, he was just barely the minimum height.) but what he lacked in stature he made up with swagger and voice. This made him the perfect person to play a TAC officer.

Like most TAC/candidate encounters, this skit involved Todd being chewed out for some infraction. It was hilarious, Todd played a trembling candidate perfectly (Like any of us couldn't) and at one point with Todd braced against the wall, David took a huge army stock pot (it stood at least 2 feet tall) turned it over and used it as a step to stand on to yell at Pryby eye to eye. The entire room was in hysterics, except Mr. Hall who walked out of the room. These celebrations lasted till 7:30 or so, then of course we cleaned up and congratulated the departing class.

Ramblings of the typical Warrant Officer Candidate flight school experience

Army flight school when I attended it, was divided among two groups, Commissioned Officers [from West Point, Reserve Army Training Corps (ROTC) and Officer Candidate School (OCS)] who were getting their basic branch training (Aviation) and the Warrant Officer Candidates (WOCs). The main difference between the two groups was the Commissioned Officers had already completed their initial officer training and were awarded their commissions before they started flight training. If they flunked out, then they were just transferred to a different branch and they went on being Officers.

Aviation Warrant Officer Candidates on the other hand, had to get your wings to get your bar (Warrant Officer Commission). Because the WOCs were still in training, we were treated differently through the initial portions of our training. For our 1st 10 weeks of flight training, we were assigned to Bravo (B) Company and lived in barracks, subject to the will and discretion of our TAC Officers, much like basic training, only magnified. Few people wash out of basic training, while washing out (failing) was an ever present danger for WOCs. There were so many hurdles to overcome:  Primary Flight, UH-1 Transition, Basic Instruments, Advanced Instruments, Basic Combat Skills and let us not forget Night Vision Goggle qualification. Bravo company was Primary Flight, if you managed to survive you moved to Charlie Company and if you were married, you won the honor of moving off post with your wife and family,

B Company had some interesting events that were associated with traditions passed down from flight to flight through the years. One of these traditions was the windsock in the company area. Every two weeks, the most senior flight graduated from B Company and a new Junior flight was brought into flight training. As part of the chaining of the guard, the Senior flight took down the windsock of their flight color and the new senior flight put theirs up. This required the assistance of the post engineers and a bucket truck that was scheduled every other Friday, at least until my flight, Royal Blue Flight, became the most junior flight.

When we were given our flight assignment, and color, as a group each new flight had to quickly determine their Flight Name, Motto and Guidon (Unit flag individual to each unit). At the time, Levi's 501 Blue button fly jeans were popular, so we adopted the name "501 Blues" as a name, "501 Blues, Heroes at a Hover!" as a motto and our Guidon was made out of Indigo Blue Denim. While having our Guidon made, we also had our flight's windsock made, again out of denim. We had also conspired to have the windsock ready when the Senior flight (Light Blue) took down theirs, just in case the other flights were not prepared to install theirs. Thusly, for the entire 10 weeks that the 501 Blues were part of B Company, our windsock flew over the company area. Officially, this was the was the first a many pranks that were the calling card of the 501 Blues.

Pranks were a staple of the WOC experience at Bravo Company. The interesting part is that the pranking was a very formalized process. Once the flight had an idea for a prank, I as the Administrative Officer had to submit a memorandum for approval. Generally, the final approver was the junior member of the chain of command of the person we targeted with the prank. If our target was The Senior TAC officer, Mr. Oden (The Royal Blue TAC Officer) was the final approver. If it was the Company Commander, the Senior TAC Officer was the final approver. (The Senior TAC was also the approver for pranks on Mr. Oden.) If we pranked the Battalion Commander, the Company Commander approved. Since we were pranking the chain of command, there were "Rules of Order" that had to be followed and these were part of the WOC guide. The general gist of the rules of order were:

No one could be hurt.

No property damage was allowed

Nothing that could be considered against the good of the Army would be considered

All pranks had to be Approved via the chain of command.

The Highest ranking person we pranked was the Aviation Training Brigade Commander (We replaced the shoelaces in his running shoes with Royal Blue Laces then invited him to run with us during our next Physical Training (PT) run (He accepted). We were never successful in getting the Brigade Commander to approve a prank on the Commanding General, but several were submitted and rejected by one level of the chain of command or another, but that didn't stop us from trying.

We pranked the Company Commander in Bravo Company twice. First we gained intelligence that he was an avid golfer, so we turned his office into the Royal Blue driving range. We had about 500 golf balls strewn about his office (all Royal Blue of course) his desk was the tee and the flag target was at the far end of the room. The second one we turned the door into his office into a museum display of a "Cubical Rat". We had Plexiglas covering the entire inside of his doorway, and had placed three, three-foot-wide walls making a tiny square room inside his office to make the "Display" There was a desk and chair from one of our barracks rooms and a live WOC inside the display wearing his PT uniform while feverishly polishing his boots. "Cube Rat" was a name given to a candidate that spent too much time working on his personal area of inspection "His Cubicle" and tended to avoid maintaining all the common use areas we had to also keep inspection ready at all times. The candidate in the display was actually a volunteer and we all made sure his personal area was up to snuff since he was trapped in the Commander's office until he came to work and saw the "Display".

Some pranks were beautiful in their simplicity. Our next junior flight was Gray flight. When we aligned in formation in the company area, Gray flight was on our immediate left. When we came to attention we shouted out motto: "Royal Blue Button Fliers, Heros at a hover! Da Da Daaaaa!" Then Gray flight would come to attention and shout: "Generic Gray, the Econo-flight! Brother can you spare a dime!" So this prank was simple, as Generic Gray finished sounding off, we did a silent three count and then we each tossed a dime over head to the left and you could hear 40 dimes going "cling, cling etc." all around the Generic Gray formation.

Our favorite target for pranking was our own Mr. Oden. Mr. Oden had made a tactical mistake during our initial briefing when he became our flight TAC officer. While going over all the rules and his expectations for Royal Blue flight he mentioned that he'd never been pranked by his own flight, the gauntlet had been thrown. If memory serves me correctly, we pranked Mr. Oden 11 times in 10 weeks. Some were simple and easy to stage, and execute, others took massive planning, coordination with civilians and sometimes, a good bit of money.

Simple pranks were done just about once a week. Here are some examples:

Filling every cubic foot of his office with crepe paper (Blue and White of course)

Placing his coffee cup upside down on his desk plotter with 500 BB's in it.

On simple prank involved a task every candidate was required to do for their personal area of inspection. You had to polish the inside of the lid to your Kiwi boot polish can to a mirror finish. (This took roughly 8 to 10 hours with the equipment we had readily available.) The standard was "I can see myself in it" when the TAC would open the lid and look inside it. We took this to heart with a prank scheduled the day our wives and girlfriends toured the barracks with Mr. Oden. Mr. Oden had just started the tour by taking them (Roughly 10 wives) into the barracks room I shared with my roommate. (We didn't know which rooms would be shown so all our rooms were prepped for the prank.) Mr. Oden was showing how our beds were made, (Hospital corners on the sheets, Army Blanket in a "White Collar" configuration, bounce a quarter off the bed, standard stuff we'd been doing since Alpha Company and WOEC.) Our wall lockers, and everything spaced evenly and our rolled underwear in the drawer, and finally our desk displays. He reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and grabbed my boot polish can, removed the lid and showed the ladies the highly shined inside of the lid. What he didn't know was that we Xeroxed his photo and cut it to fit and taped his photo in every boot polish can on the floor. Needless to say when he said he could see his face in the lid, he really could. We received some TAC officer retaliation on that one, when we returned to the barrack that evening after chow, all of our sheets and blankets were draped from the ceiling s all throughout the halls of our area. It was worth the extra work that night to get everything back in place.

Our "Coup de Gras" was a master stroke of both genius and coordination. And it got the entire flight a weekend pass to boot. Every weekend, passes were granted on the basis of how well you had performed for the week. The Premium pass was an Outstanding Plus (O-Plus) pass. An O-Plus was good from 6 PM Friday night until 5 PM Sunday evening. It was the only pass that also granted authorization to wear civilian clothes. All other passes (Outstanding, Satisfactory Plus, Satisfactory, Satisfactory Minus, Marginal etc.) required you to wear your Dress Class A Uniform.

The Setup. We set Mr. Oden up big time. We enlisted the help of his wife, our spouses, the manager of a local Domino's pizza (one of the spouses worked there) and of course the Senior TAC officer. The plan was twofold, get all the flight's candidates an O-Plus pass and surprise Mr. Oden with the biggest and best prank yet.

Location: Mr. Oden's home in Enterprise Alabama (just west of post)

Day: Friday Night

Time 7:00 PM (Just after dark)

All 60 members of Royal Blue participated (40 candidates, 20 Commissioned officers) and their families (As many family members as possible.) Mr. Oden lived in a 2-bedroom house a on a quiet street and we coordinated to park in a nearby parking lot. We all hid in the shadows of the front porch light, bushes, boats and anything else that provided concealment and waited for the appointed time. At 7:00 PM a Domino's pizza delivery arrived. The driver gets out (A spouse of one of the female candidates Mr. Oden hadn't met) and walked up to the door with 20 large pizzas and a bill for $277.00. Mr. Oden's wife had convinced him to stay home feigning that she wasn't feeling well, which kind of had him annoyed to begin with, and add to that a few Friday night brews and the stage was set.

The doorbell is rung, and Mr. Oden answered. When presented with the bill for pizza they didn't order, he saw all the pizza and then the bill and flipped out. He was FURIOUS and he knew he'd been setup and stuck with this huge bill he really could not afford to pay. The driver feigned no knowledge but that the phone number was called and the order confirmed and of course the order showed Mr. Oden's PHONE NUMBER. Let's just say that his response was not one that would have aired on public television and he got out his checkbook and started writing a check ranting about how he was going to get us back because we had gone too far! The payout was our queue for action, and 120 people or so, Candidates, Officers, spouses and families all jumped out and yelled SURPRISE! Along with the people, Beer, and Soda filled coolers, chips and other snacks all appeared and we were all invited in to his house for a pizza party. Now do the math here, 122 people (one of which is a pretty well-lit TAC Officer) and a 2 bedroom, 1 bath house. We were wall to wall people, which made it all better. We fessed up to the setup and also gave him a copy of the prank memorandum and also showed where the flight had actually paid for the pizza. Introduced our conspirators and of course we ate the pizza and drank the beer.

Like all pranks, we also cleaned up our mess, and left his house with a befuddled TAC officer who had a belly full of pizza and a couple more beers. We had designated drivers so that no one drinking had to worry about Driving While Intoxicated (DWI was one of the fastest ways to end your career as a pilot, or more especially a Candidate). We even took out the trash to the delivery truck so that Mr. Oden had nothing to complain about except being pranked, and we had approval for that. This also left the flight with all of us on a full weekend pass which was awesome for morale.

I'd also like to give a few kudos to the 20 Commissioned Officers who while part of Royal Blue flight class, they were not part of the barracks group who called themselves the 501 Blues. But they were very supportive of us. Some candidates held a grudge that the Officers had it so much better than the Candidates. Most of us felt that this was the system and we couldn't change it. (Just so you know, later it did, and after WOEC, all WOCs became Warrant Officers before they were assigned to B Company, giving them more parity with the Commissioned Officers) What the Officers did though that helped mitigate this is they supported the WOCs, both in spirit and with some money.

Part of the WOC experience was we had to raise money for various activities Guidon and Windsock, and endless group expenses like pizza & beer and other things that the class treasurer took care of. This was done with car washes and a variety of other fundraisers. When we had a car wash, you could pretty well bet that 20+ cars showed up with an Officer Post decal on it, and a generous donation. And a lot of their friends. 20 of the candidates also had a commissioned officer as a stick buddy (I was one) and again they were very supportive and tried to avoid talking about living at home, their kids and other privileges we only had on weekends. They also showed up when we graduated and got our bars. We were a pretty cohesive group. 

My First Solo in a TH55A

If nothing else, Army flight training is a sequence of surprises. One of those surprises was your first solo flight. You'd been flying for two or three weeks. Almost every day with exceptions for days when you didn't have weather or an occasional required event where you could not go the flight line. Days at the flight line started the same, a safety briefing then two on one table talk with your instructor and your stick buddy about various topics like emergency procedures, or just what the instructor had planned for the day. Who flies first because if you don't fly first, you take the bus to the stage field.

In a lot of ways things were the same. You had a list of maneuvers you practiced and you were almost always with the same instructor unless your instructor was out for the day for some reason. But a lot of the standard was different every day, like the aircraft you flew. There were 300 TH55a helicopters at Shell Army Heliport and the odds of getting the same one twice in 50 hours of flight time were fairly slim. Due to this, you had to get used to looking for your tail number on the dash while flying just so you'd know what number to give when calling tower.

Well, I was in my third week of training and a few members of the flight had completed their first supervised solos. You could tell this because they now wore a baseball cap that had a set of wings on it. We all wore colored baseball caps and we bought two, one without wings and one with wings. You kept the wings one in your helmet bag that contained your flight gear and after your first solo you swapped hats (Then you had wings sewn on the 2nd one too.) So in that regard, you were prepared for your solo. What you didn't know is when your supervised solo would occur.

The day started out normally for me, my stick buddy had soloed the week prior, but he had an advantage over the rest of us. He had a civilian helicopter rating and had been flying Hughes 500s before he joined the Army, so of course he soloed early in training. I was roughly in the middle of the pack. Mr. Rhoads put me through the regular training routine practicing all the required maneuvers I would need to know to pass my checkride, finishing up with hover work on one of the pads near the tower. Then he did something different. He took out his pencil, drew a Z behind the call letters on the control panel, told me to fly three traffic patterns then return to parking. Surprise, you are flying solo!

I was both honored that he felt I was ready to solo and I was also terrified that I would kill myself in a horrible crash. But I figured Mr. Rhoads knew what he was doing so I got myself composed, radioed tower and requested taxi clearance for 01DZ. Entering the flying portion of the stage field was always the same, you were directed to lane 1 at the closest of the approach pads (1, 2, 3 or 4) then you would hover forward as traffic ahead of you moved forward. Eventually you would get to the end of the lane, then you would radio the tower for takeoff clearance. "Hooper tower, 01DZ lane 1 requesting permission to take off, left traffic." The reply would be something like "01DZ you are clear for takeoff, beware crosswind traffic from lanes 2 and 3, report base." In English I was good to take off but make sure someone wasn't approaching from the right (I would be making a circuit to the left kinda like the Indy oval) and when I was turning from the downwind leg of the circuit (Parallel to the runway going the other direction, turning to get back over to the lanes) call the tower back to find my landing assignment.

I was happy that all happened pretty quick because my hovering sucked and from the time I left the landing pad till take off was less than a minute. I could hover easy for short periods, but the longer I had to stay in one place, the shakier I got when made me tense which made me shakier etc. So I eased the cyclic forward and applied a little power and a little left pedal to compensate for the power increase and started moving forward. The airspeed indicator is unreliable under 10 knots so you barely see it start to move before you go through effective translational lift (ETL for short) and start to climb. Simply put, when you pass through ETL, you move into undisturbed air and the effectiveness of your rotor system improves roughly 25% and you start to climb. Our climb out airspeed target was 40 knots, our cruise was 60 knots and do not exceed speed was 64 knots (I'll get to that more in a bit)

Once you made it to 200 feet, you made a 90 turn to the left (the crosswind leg) and continued to climb to 600 ft above the ground (AGL) which was nominally 1000 ft. on your altimeter as the mean sea level (MSL= height in feet above the average sea level of the planet) altitude of Hooper Stage field is 365 ft. MSL. When the altimeter read 1000 ft, you again turned left 90 degrees and accelerated to 60 knots heading 040 degrees on the compass and roughly paralleling Andrews Avenue which goes next to the stage field. It was pretty easy because you were essentially following the leader as there were roughly 30 helicopters there and at any one time 15 to 20 were in the traffic pattern. There were 2 helicopters in front of me on downwind so I just stayed behind them at the same altitude and same airspeed which made it pretty easy. As I turned again 90 degrees left to the "base leg" I called the tower and reported base for landing. Tower assigned me Lane 3 pad 2.

There are 6 lanes at Hooper and we were using 1, 2 and 3 (the other 3 lanes would be used soon). Lane 3 was nice as I had more time before I had to turn to final (Approaches to Lane 1 were a bit trickier as you had to turn almost immediately after clearance to land.) but pad 2 was bothersome as it meant I had to hover 1200 ft. up the lane and wait for the 2 birds in front of me to takeoff. Hovering forward was easy, hovering in place on a pad waiting, not so much. The good thing about Lane 3 is once you get to the takeoff pad at the end, you don't have to wait for crosswind traffic on your right side because you are the right most lane turning left (Lanes 4, 5 & 6 fry right traffic) because you are always taking off into the wind, and the wind is almost always from the south at Ft. Rucker.

I was lucky, most of the birds ahead of me were moving at a decent pace so I didn't have to hover long. I got my takeoff clearance and started my climb out and turned crosswind following the leader as before. I turned downwind and accelerated to 60 knots and leveled off at 1000 ft. when I noticed something a bit wrong. The bird in front of me was flying heading 080 instead of 040 at 1000 ft. I hesitated for a moment as I was supposed to fly 040 but I was also supposed to fly behind the bird in front of me. I decided to follow the leader even though she seemed a bit lost (Both on our 1st solo, mistakes are made) and while I was distracted with this, I failed on my instrument cross check (you scan all the instruments every 5 seconds or so) and failed to notice I was still accelerating after leveling off because I hadn't reduced power enough while fretting about what direction to fly.

You'll remember I mentioned the 64 knots do not exceed airspeed, here is why it is important. Every helicopter has a max airspeed and it is determined by a specific limitation. Most are limited by retreating blade stall. You are flying using a rotating wing. At hover, all forces are equal, and it is no big deal. In forward flight, the blade moving forward on your right side "Flaps Down" and reduces pitch on the blade to compensate for the increased speed of air going over the wing added due to your forward airspeed. The retreating blade "Flaps Up" increasing pitch on the blade to increase life as the forward airspeed is subtracted from the speed of the air going over that blade. Eventually, you reach a point where the retreating blade stalls from too steep an angle of attack. The blade loses lift and that portion of the rotor (left rear quadrant in this case) becomes a dead zone. Since the front right of the rotor disk has essentially too much life, the nose of the helicopter rises and the aircraft rolls left toward the stall. Immediate action is required because you have maybe two seconds before events are unrecoverable. Lower the collective which reduces pitch on all of the rotor disk and gently pull back on the cyclic to slow below 64 knots.

While I was wondering what in the hell the helo in front of me was doing, I felt the nose start to rise and I glanced at my airspeed (68 knots) OOOPPS!!! I dumped quite a bit of collective and slowed to about 55 knots then pulled power back in to get back up to 1000 ft. as I'd dropped to about 850. WHEW! I'd cheated death for the first time in a helicopter. That wasn't the last time, not even in a TH55a. Finally, the gal in front of me turned to base and I had to slow a bit to left her pass in front of me. I never exactly followed her but kinda split the difference and had flown 060 while nearly killing myself. I turn to base and make my call and get Lane 1 pad 1 (Arrggghhh) so I had to immediately turn and start my decent and make my approach. I came in way too steep (overarched the approach) and actually came to a hover about 20 feet past pad 1 (Close enough). Now I had 4 helicopters in front of me (pads 2, 3 4 & the takeoff pad) and they were also having to wait on traffic from lanes 2 and 3. Meanwhile, my composure was shot from having nearly killed myself and I was hovering in place, which I did badly to begin with. Each time someone took off from lane 1 was a reprieve as I could hover forward and relax a bit until I had to stop and try to force that bird to stay in one spot again. It took nearly 5 minutes to get to the takeoff pad and then I had to wait for both Lanes 2 and 3 to takeoff before I was granted clearance as they were ready before me.

My 3-foot hover was generally within 20 feet of the center of the pad and oscillating from 2 to 10 feet instead of the nominal 3-foot hover. I was losing control and I nearly decided to set it down on the pad when I finally got clearance for my last traffic pattern. I quickly completed my before takeoff check and started my climb out. I was extremely careful on my turn to downwind and acceleration at 1000 ft. 55 knots was plenty for me. No one in front of me was straying this time and I made sure to keep an eye on the airspeed. As expected, on my turn to base I was assigned lane 1 pad 3, taxi to parking. Once parked, my instructor came out, and we completed the shutdown, then I got to go to the bus and wait. I had soloed, I had nearly killed myself but I soloed. Little did I know, there were more adventures to come.

As previously noted, my primary flight training was conducted in the TH-55A (Hughes 300) trainer. The helicopter itself is not very inspiring and I had to overcome my doubts about both it and my capability to fly it.

Primary Flight Training

My saga of what I had to overcome to get to flight school is likely the more interesting part of this memoir, that being said, I'm going to continue to try and continue logging my exploits in the slim chance someday someone will actually care to read it.

As previously noted, my primary flight training was conducted in the TH-55A (Hughes 300) trainer. The helicopter itself is not very inspiring and I had to overcome my doubts about both it and my capability to fly it.

As you can see it is basically a bubble on skids with a rotor attached, but it is actually a fairly rugged if not very basic aircraft. An altimeter, airspeed indicator, Vacuum gauge and tachometer are the instruments. The turn and slip indicator was a 2-inch piece of yarn on a straightened paperclip mounted on the center-line of the canopy at eye level. Door were optional, in cold weather we generally opted for 1 door on and one off as even at 40 degrees Fahrenheit it was better to be cold than not to have fresh air in the cockpit.

Another note is that this little bird is little, it was not designed for someone 6 foot 3 inches tall. My flight helmet rested on the back of the bubble and the vibration was not conducive to my control touch. Lucky for me the back of the helmet has Velcro loop attached for when I'd need to attach an NVG battery pack later in training and I was able to attach a large piece of 1/8 in foam rubber to act as a pad between my helmet and the bubble.

One of the first orders of business is learning how to hover. The best way I can describe this task is to take a straw broom (The old fashion kind, wooden stick and straw and heavy) hold it vertical bristles up, then try to balance it in the palm of your hand. You'll find it is easy to do for 5 or 10 seconds then it starts to wobble, then you overcorrect and then eventually it succumbs to gravity and hits the ground. This is pretty much how it feels to try and learn to hover. For 1 thing you are doing a minimum of four control movements at the same time, 

You have the cyclic pitch control (The Stick) in your right hand. At a hover, it is movement left and right, forward and back. Pretty simple in theory. Next you have the pedals, these allow you to pivot around the axis of the main rotor and you use this to point the aircraft the direction you intend to go. This is kinda a nominal idea initially as the aircraft seems to have other ideas. Left pedal, increases pitch on the tail rotor turning the nose to the left, right pedal decreases pitch on the tail rotor and you turn right. Seems pretty simple, then you take into effect that more pitch on the rotor requires more engine power, if you don't add more power, besides turning left you will also descend as you are using more power. Conversely, by using right pedal, if you don't reduce power, you'll initiate a climb. One thing I'll also note here, is that the pedals are cable connected to the swashplate of the tail rotor and it is a direct link connection. This means that when there is drag induced to the tail rotor, if causes feedback on the left pedal requiring you to keep pressure upon it to hold your position. If you relaxed your left foot, the helicopter would automatically start turning right as the tail rotor always wanted to have the blade at flat pitch to eliminate drag. This also meant for all intents and purposes, that you could take your fight foot off the right pedal as the feedback provided all the right pedal pressure you ever needed, I was chided more than one by my instructor to get my right foot back on the pedal after I'd take it off the pedal to relax a sore knee.

The last two controls are combined. The collective pitch control (Up and Down and airspeed control) is held in you left hand. With it is a twist grip throttle control much akin to that of a motorcycle, just in the other hand. As you would pull up on the collective, you also in synchrony twisted the throttle away from you in an overhand motion. When you lowered the collective you relaxed the throttle. The goal was to maintain appropriate rotor RPM that was indicated by a secondary needle on the tachometer, the other indicating the engine RPM which I seem to remember would generally be about 2650 RPM when flying. 

So I hope this clarifies a tad bit how operating this device is a balancing act. You are trying to convince this thing to 1. Defy gravity. 2. Defy wind (Oh my how clam days were appreciated.) and 3. Defy your own attempts to kill yourself and your instructor.

Hover practice was done is large fields throughout southeastern Alabama. Farmers would rent these fields to the Army and keep them free of major debris and allow things like a hover marker to be placed in the field. (An old tire with a reflector in the middle in the center of the field.) Hovering requires you to have a relaxed control touch and mostly practice relaxing while holding your life in your hands. Since most Warrant Officer Candidates are generally spring loaded to the Gee Whiz position, this takes some effort. Yes, it requires effort to relax when learning to fly. Generally, it talks about 3 to 5 hours of practice to get the basics of hovering down. Me, it took a bit more I believe.

It was a nice day, sunny and 40s or so, when Mr. Rhoads took me to this familiar 150-acre field we'd been spending an hour or so a day in for most the week, He was less than impressed with my skills at hover and was determined that this was the day that I would figure it out. It was. We were at a 3-foot hover facing due south (180 heading on your compass) and the tire marker I mentioned was in front of the nose of the aircraft. We did the normal 3-way transfer of controls (Mr. Rhoads said "You have the controls", I grasped my controls and I replied "I have the controls", then he replied "You have the controls" and sat back and crossed his arms and watched.

To my amazement I was hovering. This lasted maybe 15 seconds before I started to drift. The next 45 minutes, we pretty much covered all the 150 acres of that field, I can recall at one time getting at least 100 feet in the air, and I suspect at one point was moving in excess of 40 knots in various directions including backwards. All this time, Mr. Rhoads made no offer to assist me and somehow I never did anything so absolutely dangerous that he would take the controls. I requested he take the controls back and he quietly replied that when the aircraft was back where he'd given me the controls and in the same attitude, he would, until then I was on my own.

Eventually, with the minimum of suggestion from my instructor, I figured out that I was "Over-controlling" the aircraft. All control inputs had to be done with a delicate touch, and you had to wait momentarily, because there is an ever so slight delay in just about every control input. In this little bird, it is almost imperceptible, as it is mostly the throttle response of the 180 HP engine that accounts for the lag. I also think that sheer exhaustion was a contributing factor. Regardless, I finally was managing to herd this craft in the general desired direction and eventually achieved a 3-foot hover, in a generally southern facing direction, when a tire out in front of the aircraft. Mr. Rhoads took the controls and I just about collapsed in my seat.

Other days in the first couple weeks of flight school were completed at Hooper stage field. Hooper always had a place in my heart as it was the closest stage field to Ozark, Alabama. Where I was renting a house. As a matter of fact, the house was in the downwind leg of the traffic pattern for lanes 1, 2 & 3 of the stage field. Hooper like most the stage fields, had 6 lanes. Each lane was a paved tarmac (Aviation term for blacktop) and was 1600 feet long. At 400 ft. increments there were pads 1 through 4 and a takeoff pad at the far end.

Near the road were parking pads the tower and bleachers were the second session students waited for their turn. (Two students per instructor, we each flew for about an hour a day then swapped out). After an average of 7 to 9 hours you get to fly your first supervised solo flight. I'll tell that tale the next blog entry.