Casey had no idea what to expect as she walked into the flight room the next morning at 0315 hours. She might have gotten her wish to fly with Captain Hard-Ass and gone right from the frying pan into the fire. She looked at the schedule board. She was flying with Captain Hardesty in exactly one hour and fifteen minutes. She sat at her table with Mike and Jeff. Mike was flying with Carter first period, and Jeff was flying with him second period.
“Why are you flying with Captain Hardesty again, Casey?” Mike asked.
“I guess they didn’t have any one else to fly with me.”
“Well, she can’t be any worse than Carter. He’s been passing me on my rides, but I don’t know why. I feel like I can’t do anything right because he screams and swears at me so much.”
“He does?” For some reason, she assumed he only screamed at her, not the other guys.
“Does he scream at you too, Jeff?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, all the time, but I’m used to it. I used to be in the Marine Corps. We’re used to people screaming at us. You guys are just whisky deltas.”
“What’s a whisky delta, Casey?” Mike whispered.
“It means ‘weak dick,’” she answered.
“Jeff’s as bad as Carter sometimes.”
The room was called to attention as the IPs walked in for the morning briefing. Carter sat at his table and didn’t even look at Casey. He started briefing Mike and Jeff on their flights, then she sensed Captain Hardesty standing behind her.
“Let’s brief up in the flight commander’s office, Lieutenant Tompkins.”
Carter glared at both Casey and Captain Hardesty as she got up from the table.
“Casey, I’ll be real honest with you, you’re way behind where you should be for this stage of training.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know, and I really appreciate you flying with me today.”
“You may regret saying that. I didn’t get the call sign ‘Hard-Ass’ for nothing. I’m not cutting you any slack just because you’re a woman. I’m going to do my best to get you up to speed, but ultimately, this is on you. What’s the main problem with your landings?”
“I’m not sure. They just don’t seem to be very consistent.”
“What pitch picture are you using in the final turn?”
“Pitch picture? I’m setting the power at seventy percent and flying at one hundred and ten knots.”
“Do you know what pitch attitude you should be seeing in the final turn?”
“I’m not sure I do, ma’am.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. You’re not looking outside when you fly. You’re only looking inside at the instruments. Okay, this is going to be a pattern only ride today. I’m going to demonstrate the first pattern and landing for you and tell you exactly what you should be seeing out the windscreen. Do you remember from your dollar ride what I told you about hearing and feeling the plane when you fly?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’re going to work on that today. You don’t have to look at the RPM gauges to know the power setting. You just have to set the throttles in the correct position and listen for the sound of the engines. If you set the right pitch attitude in the final turn by looking out the window, you’ll be exactly on the correct glide path at the right airspeed. We are going to beat up the pattern until you get it right.”
This made so much sense to Casey.
When they walked together across the ramp to the airplane, Casey was more at ease already than in her previous flights. This ride would be tough, but she was optimistic for the first time.
“Casey, I’m going to fly the initial takeoff and the first pattern and landing. I want you to put your hands on the stick and throttles and follow along on the controls with me. The most important thing I want you to do today is look out the windscreen. Look at the picture of where the horizon is during the climb, as we slow down, the final turn, final approach, and the flare during the landing. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Casey’s hands were connected to Captain Hardesty’s hands as she felt her move the stick and throttles. Energy flowed between them into her hands from Captain Hardesty as she flew the jet.
“Tango 76, request closed pattern,” Captain Hardesty transmitted over the radio.
“Closed approved,” replied the runway supervisory unit.
She rolled the airplane sharply into a turn, pulled three Gs as she climbed up to traffic pattern altitude, and leveled off at precisely the correct altitude.
“I’m checking my spacing. The runway should look like it’s under the Air Force star on the wing.” Casey understood what she was looking for. The spacing from the runway was perfect.
“When we are abeam the runway numbers, power idle, slow to one hundred twenty knots, and trim, trim, trim.” She pulled the power to idle and flicked the trim button on the top of the stick with her gloved thumb several times as the airspeed decreased to final turn speed.
“Look back over your left shoulder. The runway touchdown point should be on a forty-five-degree line behind us. This is the perch point.” She extended the speed brake, put the landing gear down, and lowered the flaps.
“Tango 76, gear down, touch-and-go.”
“Tango 76, cleared touch-and-go,” the RSU replied.
“I set the pitch attitude at one-third sky, two-thirds ground, thirty degrees of bank. Remember this picture. Bring the power back one knob width, this is seventy percent RPM, and trim off the stick pressure. Don’t look at the end of the runway yet. Imagine there is a football goalpost off the end of the runway and we are going to fly right through it like we’re a football. As we approach the ‘goalpost,’ start to look for the threshold of the runway. That’s what you’re aiming at. Check your runway aim point is one-third the way up the windscreen, then glance at your airspeed. It should be pretty close to one hundred knots. Cross-check aim point, then airspeed, and make small corrections. When the beginning of the runway starts to go under the nose, landing is assured, bring your head up and pick up the horizon. Power idle and start your flare for landing. Bring the nose up just slightly, hold that picture as the speed comes off, then touchdown.”
Her words were perfectly timed with her actions as Casey watched Captain Hardesty fly a flawless pattern and landing.
“Your turn, Casey. You have the aircraft.”
“Roger, I have the aircraft.”
She requested a closed traffic pattern and tried her best to make it look just like Captain Hardesty’s. Casey performed the landing sequence just like she’d seen and was amazed when she rolled out on final exactly on speed and on glide path. She focused on her aim point and her airspeed and saw out of the corner of her eye that Captain Hardesty had her hands near, but not on, the controls. She pulled the power to idle, held the landing attitude, and touched down smoothly for the first time. She wanted to whoop out loud.
“My airplane, Casey.”
“Roger, your aircraft, ma’am.” Casey wondered what she did wrong.
“That wasn’t too bad. You lost a little altitude before you started your final turn because you’re not quite trimming enough. Every time your power or speed changes, you have to re-trim the aircraft. Good touchdown. Let’s try it again.”
The ride continued with Casey flying, Captain Hardesty giving her critiques and corrections to fix her landings, and no yelling. After a few tries, Casey was flying simulated single engine landings, no flap touch-and-go landings, left and right overhead patterns, traffic pattern breakouts and re-entries, and she even greased on one landing. I’m getting this. I think I’m actually getting this.
“It’s my turn to fly, Casey.”
Captain Hardesty yanked the jet into a ninety-degree banked turn, pulled hard on the stick with five Gs of force, ripped the throttles to idle, slammed the landing gear handle down, and rolled the plane into a very tight descending turn to the runway.
There’s no way she’s going to make this landing.
She rolled out on a very short final approach with the power still at idle, perfectly on glide path at exactly the correct airspeed, then gently touched the airplane down with a slight squeak from the tires.
Wow. So that’s how it’s done.
*****
When they went back into the flight room for the debrief, Lieutenant Carter was sitting at his table already debriefing Mike. Carter was scowling and muttering under his breath as Mike was nodding with a very dejected look on his face. Casey could only cringe at what Carter might be saying to him.
“Captain Arnau, do you mind if we debrief at your table?”
“Sure, Captain Hardesty, it’s all yours.” Even though they were friends, Casey noticed they always addressed each other with their military ranks in front of the students.
“Casey, I saw improvement in your flying today. You still have a long way to go, but if you keep this up, I think you’ll be able to solo.”
A weight lifted off Casey’s shoulders. She felt encouraged for the first time.
“You were getting too bogged down in the details and not looking out the window at the big picture. You know the correct sight pictures and you know the procedures. You need to chair fly the landings as much as you can. When you are doing this, close your eyes and visualize in your mind the images you saw today as you were flying. Move your hands just like you’re flying, especially using the trim button, and this will come together for you. I also want you to go out to the RSU and observe the traffic pattern. Listen for all the radio calls and look at where the planes are in the pattern. This will help with your situation awareness. For the next ride, I need to see more improvement, show me that you can consistently land the airplane safely, and that you can handle any situation in the pattern. Overall grade, Good.”
Captain Hardesty handed her grade sheet to Casey as she stood to leave. Casey stared at the individual grades for a long time: normal overhead pattern—good, single engine overhead—good, no flap landing—fair, normal landing—good. I earned these grades. I think I can really do this.
*****
The next morning, Casey was energized and excited about flying. She’d practiced the maneuvers in her room several times, chair flying exactly as Captain Hardesty told her to. She’d taken the photo of the instrument panel from her flight manual and had it enlarged so it was life-sized and propped it up on her coffee table. She used her tennis racket handle as the aircraft stick, and she put her racquetball racket between the couch cushions to use as the throttle. She was able to picture flying perfect landing patterns seeing the correct pitch attitudes and moving her hands at exactly the right time. She was ready to show Captain Hardesty that she could fly this jet.
The pre-brief was short and sweet.
“Same as yesterday, Casey, except we’re going out to the practice area for stalls, slow flight and spins, then into the auxiliary field for landings and back here for more landings. I’m not saying much today. I expect you to make all the decisions, correct your own errors, and fly like you are solo.”
Casey walked out to the airplane with a new confidence. She moved her hands swiftly over the gauges and switches as she completed her preflight checks. She made a good takeoff and departure to the practice area. She went through the practice maneuvers without hesitation. Captain Hardesty sat next to her without saying a word and her hands in her lap. The traffic pattern was busy as she descended into the aux field. She listened on the radio for the call signs of the other planes to figure out where they were located in the traffic pattern.
She flew up to the initial point at two hundred knots, one thousand feet above the ground, cleared the airspace to her right, snapped the airplane into a sixty-degree banked turn, and pulled hard on the stick. The three Gs of force on her body felt familiar and comfortable now as she rolled out on altitude with proper spacing from the runway. Her movements were almost automatic—gear, flaps, speed brake, trim, radio calls—as she looked out the big windscreen. She knew exactly what pitch picture to set and talked to herself out loud as she really felt the airplane for the first time. “A little high, lower the nose. A little fast, power back.” She rolled out on final on centerline, on glide path, on speed. Her focus was on the end of the runway. “Aim point, airspeed, aim point, airspeed.” She held the stick lightly with just her fingertips, trimming off even slight pressure. “Landing assured, power idle.” She brought the nose up for the flare. “Hold that picture, hold that picture,” she told herself as the jet settled to the runway for a smooth touchdown.
The rest of her landings went equally well until the airplane in front of her flew a “bomber pattern.” They were too wide and delayed their final turn too long until it was obvious she didn’t have the proper distance behind them to land.
“Tango 61, going around,” she called as she added full power, brought the landing gear up, and retracted the flaps. She couldn’t fly over the other plane, so she banked to offset her jet from the runway to keep them in sight. She departed the pattern and flew back to Willie for some more landings until the fuel gauges showed it was time to land. Captain Hardesty hadn’t said a word to her the entire flight. Her silence was disconcerting, and Casey hoped she hadn’t messed up too bad.
Casey completed her shutdown checklist, filled out the aircraft logbook, and walked back into the parachute room in silence with Captain Hardesty next to her. Casey was dying inside. She had to know how she did.
“Well, Casey, you showed me today you can fly the jet by yourself. Good job.”
Casey wanted to scream out loud. Instead, she maintained her composure as she listened to the rest of the debrief, looking intently at Captain Hardesty.
“Your landings were consistently good, and you were analyzing and correcting your own errors. You showed good judgment when you decided to go around at the aux field. The guy ahead of us screwed you over by flying a bomber pattern, and you handled that situation exactly as you should have. I expect you to do that tomorrow when you solo, and every other flight from now on. For your solo flight tomorrow, we’ll fly together for the first pattern and landing. Assuming that all goes as well as it did today, we’ll taxi back in, I’ll jump out of the jet, and then you’re on your own. Do you have any questions about your ride today?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You did well today, Casey. Don’t fuck up tomorrow.”
When she got up to leave the flight room, Kathryn put her hand on Casey’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
There was a little electric tingle that ran down from Casey’s shoulder to her spine.