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Story Time
Started by socalgold at 02-20-2007 5:24 PM. Topic has 9 replies.
  
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 02-20-2007, 5:24 PM
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socalgold
 
Joined on 01-25-2006
Fighting for Miners Rights & Our Civil Liberties
Posts 2,007
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Below is an article written by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. He details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a F-14 Tomcat. If you aren't laughing out loud by the time you get to "Milk Duds," your sense of humor is seriously broken. Enjoy it C-17A in your cushy jet.
"Now this message is for America's most famous athletes:
Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have . John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity...
Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do .
Do Not Go!!!
I know.
The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.
Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting ..." Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We have a liftoff"
Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.
"Bananas," he said.
"For the potassium?" I asked.
"No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down."
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left ***. (No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot .. But, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.
A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.
Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14.
Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.
We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.
And I egressed the bananas.
And I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that.
I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade.
I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff that never thought would be egressed.
I went through not one airsick bag, but two.
Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.
I used to know 'cool'. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know 'cool'. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.
A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me Said he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit.
What is it? I asked.
"Two Bags."
I Love My Country
It's the government I'm Afraid OF
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02-20-2007, 5:44 PM
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twig/al
Joined on 01-24-2006
Gadsden, Alabama
Posts 4,627
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socalgold, I think that is what I would do!!!!
Alabama Prospecting Supply
www.alabamaprospectingsupply.com
Email: tom@alabamaprospectingsupply.com
Southeast Treasure Hunters Forum
www.southeasttreasurehunters.com
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02-22-2007, 8:51 PM
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fireman93514
Joined on 01-25-2006
Bishop CA
Posts 189
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I'll try anything once. Wellll almost anything.
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03-03-2007, 5:32 AM
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JOE S (INDY)
Joined on 01-12-2007
Indiana (Winter) & Alaska (Summer)
Posts 46
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After I returned from Saudi, and while still on Active Duty from my voluntary activation for Desert Storm, I was able to fly in one of my "Air Guard" unit's fighters. Not the sleek and neat, big bruiser of an F-14 but rather a much more humble A-7.
I learned the week before I was to fly, that I had been chosen to receive the "Incentive Flight" I had requested over a year before. The fact of the matter is that I had been in the Air Force and the Air National Guard almost 30 years at that point, but I really was glad to finally be getting the "Incentive". ("Know what I mean, Vern?"). while not a stranger at all to military flight (I even have a pilot's license of my own and had once before flown in a spotter aircraft, an O-2 at another duty station.) I was thrilled to "Strap on one of the big 'ole Oil Burners" that I had worked around for so long.
For over a week I had watched the weather forecasts and hoped that this chance of a lifetime wouldn't evaporate for some quirky reason. I went to the "Survival Shop" and was fitted with a spare flight suit (probably used to belong to someone who crashed). I went through Egress training, which meant what to do when every thing went really sour. I learned how to dangle from a parachute and how to, carefully, pull the rip cord (I already knew that one, but re-training never hurts).
Finally 'The Big Day' arrived and I leisurely left the Bomb Dump (where I worked) and casually, oh so casually, drove over to "Ops". I climbed into the flight suit so very matter-of-factly (after all, I had already put it on once before - just the other day in fact) and headed over to "Weather".
I met the pilot who I was to fly with in Weather and after a redundant weather briefing (we 'ole flying types always check the weather maps and forecasts when you first "hit the door") strolled over to a small side room to get acquainted.
While I didn't know the PIC (Pilot in Command) very well, I had seen him on the Flight Line many times before. He carefully began to size me up as we talked. He was politely interested in learning that I worked in "Ammo" and that I had flown on my own before. He was a little more interested in my own flying in Cessnas in Africa and England and even, grudgingly, was pleased in some of the answers I made to his probing questions on what I expected from our upcoming flight.
Finally, it was time to walk over to the 'Bird" - The venerable A-7, an Attack type of fighter. We did a walk around (I had watched hundreds of pilots, for years, doing them, and had done many myself, so I was not at a loss there). Since I was a daily fixture on the flight line all my friends were waving and giving me the secret little encouragements you would expect.
Finally, it was time to climb inside. Now I was getting into unfamiliar territory. The "GIB" (Guy in Back) seat, just like the "GIF" seat was not designed for lots of room. I'm designed for lots of room. Thankfully the Crew Chief, a buddy, was easily able to help me fold in three places at once to squeeze in. If I had been a smaller size it would have been so much easier - fo' sure.
Then the GIF fired up the engine. It was much more impressive sitting a few feet above and forward of that honkin' engine than just watching from my usual 50 or 100 feet away. Since we were a "Flight of One”, we didn't have to co ordinate with other aircraft and so we were able to start taxing out to take off. Since it was late summer, the canopy (half of a greenhouse - right) was kept open until just before take off. At the last minute in the taxi, BAM! it was down.
The pilot asked if I was ready and I gave him an enthuastic "You Bet!” He firewalled it. I had never felt such power before and we were Zinging along as fast as you could possibly imagine while firmly plastered to the back of the seat due to the acceleration! A heartbeat or two later we were off the ground and the adventure began.
I had studied maps of the areas that we were to fly in, so I had some conceptual familiarity, of sorts, with different landmarks. While helpful to have some of those landmarks in my head the excitement made them all jumble together. I hoped that I wasn't making a fool of myself.
Up we flew, down we dove, Rolls, Split S's and Loops, many Loops with lots of G's and the flight suit pressurizing me so I wouldn't pass out. Fortunately, I had enough experience to have eaten just the minimum and just the right kinds of food so as to not need the barf bag(s). One thing I knew from long ago was to stay away from bacon, sausage and bananas since they make the unwary new fighter jock a bit queasy.
I flew headings and practiced turns (well I practiced - the GIF was an airline pilot when not in fighters). I Powered Up and Powered Down, I Flew Fast and I Flew Slow, I Dove and I Climbed, I did a passable roll or two, a pretty good couple of loops and then, the
GUAHR RON TEED to make you sick
------- "Split S."
Dive to get up a little speed and then pull back on the stick to start a loop. At the top, and inverted, level off and roll to right side up. Screws up the inner ear of those who don't do it often and I could feel the start of something bad down deep. I sweated while the captain complimented me on a pretty good first one. He slyly asked how I felt and I mentioned that while a bit twisted up I was doing ok (it wasn't really lying - right?). THE FEELING passed (a little Oxygen straightened me right out) and off we went for some more grand' flyin'.
All too soon, it was time to return. I had heard from other pilots that sometimes the return to earth can be a really disorienting factor that creeps up on an unwary pilot. I usually heard that just after a seasoned pilot was done barfing on the grass next to his just parked aircraft on the flight line. I was a bit nervous about barfing in front of the GIF and all my flightline buddies so I controlled my breathing, watched distant points outside the cockpit, thought good thoughts and waited for the wheels to chirp down.
At last, we were on the ground, the canopy up and taxing back to our parking spot. After we shut down my buddies all crowded around as I dismounted and they all hung on the answer to the only asked question - "Did'ja puke?"
They were all disappointed in the pilot who couldn't get "Ammo Joe" to review his caloric intake.
JOE S (INDY) or TSgt. Joseph J. Scheckler, USAF (Ret.)
Never Let Common Sense Get in the Way of Determination
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03-03-2007, 7:36 AM
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socalgold
Joined on 01-25-2006
Fighting for Miners Rights & Our Civil Liberties
Posts 2,007
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Awright you guys, you're making me jealous. Great story Joe. Enjoyed it very much. Too old now to do those things and even years ago, I probably would have been a 2 or 3 bagger. Bad enough going through some tropical thunderstorm I couldn't get over in my old bird QE-5 a P5M-2 Matrin Marlin. Don't think I had what it would have taken to fly one of these modern jets.
Great story Joe.
I Love My Country
It's the government I'm Afraid OF
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03-03-2007, 10:50 AM
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JOE S (INDY)
Joined on 01-12-2007
Indiana (Winter) & Alaska (Summer)
Posts 46
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Herschel,
You reminded me of my lifelong buddy, Don, years ago at RAF Station Bentwaters when we both were on Active Duty long ago.
Don is a good friend who, it seemed, wanted to go flying with me.
We met at the Aero Club mid morning in the late spring of '71 to go out and punch some holes in the air. Don was a first-timer in little birds so I was determined to make the ride as easy as possible for him. Just a short hop to the civilian airdrome near by, a quick stop for a 'cuppa and then a slow, easy flight over the local British countryside.
The Cessna 150 was a real beauty! Relatively new, it had been lovingly cared for by the members of our club who considered it to be a labor of love. Both of us were in our mid 20’s and we just couldn't get enough of life. What an adventure we were going to have on his first flight!
We took off into the beautiful, lightly clouded sky and enjoyed the bright sunshine and even greater view. The bright sunshine became a problem. Turbulence.
Bouncing, dropping down and popping up, with one wing and then the other rising abruptly made the 20 minute flight to the Ipswich Airport a thrill a minute for me - and an agony for Don. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't seem to find a ‘sweet spot’ altitude to stop the roller coaster ride. I apologized and Don said that it was ok. I apologized again and Don said it was ok - again. Don stopped talking. Finally, the familiar sod field came into sight and I stole a glance over at Don. Like a green snowman, he sat there with his face drained of all blood and teetering on the edge of gastro-distress. Bounce, bounce, slide, wiggle, swoop, dive, Up Down, Sideways, Get 'er level, Keep 'er level ... all the way down to the runway until finally we 'greased 'er in with a picture perfect landing in calm air.
Just as we touched down Don let out a little "tell tale" sound and I shouted to open the window to get a lot of air to wash over his face and possibly distract his thinking on the inevitable. (Cessna side windows hinge at the top and open outward.) Ba Boom! In a flash the deed had been done and the prop wash completed the process - all the way to the tail. Jeez, I felt bad.
As we were taxing up to the wash rack, I offered to rinse down the fuselage but Don would have none of it. He explained that he understood just how hard I had been trying to make the flight smoother for him and he really appreciated it. He felt it important to do his duty to clean up after himself - and so he did.
After we rinsed down the bird I taxied out of the way and we went inside the canteen to sip down a ‘cuppa tea and a biscuit. After 20 minutes or so Don mentioned that he had taken my advice to eat a light breakfast - but - had somehow forgotten that he really shouldn’t eat a banana.
So finally, after ‘everything’ settled down I asked Don if he wanted to continue the sight seeing trip or just head back. He reluctantly admitted that it was best to return, and so that’s just what we did.
The trip back was a little better. An uneventful, yet still bumpy, setup to a landing on the 2 mile long runway went just fine. On Final Approach, at about 80 feet above the runway I heard “THE SOUND”.
By this time Don was much more familiar with the Cessna and so, rather than take a chance with ‘blow back’ through the opened window, he made a command decision on the spot. Rather than opening the window, he opened the door on his side about a foot or two and held it open into the wind. Perfectly logical to a non-flier the ‘purging action’ should have been much more efficient (and it was) – however ……….
A wing creates lift by its shape and by the air passing over that shape. The fuselage is symmetrically shaped to not create any sideways lift to the body of the aircraft. Opening a door makes for an instant squirrelly, random, sideways crabbing of the airplane because we just installed a flapping ‘wing’ on the side of the aircraft.
WOAH ! ! ! we were instantly all over the sky. My feet and hands danced to correct the sudden changes – and then – with ‘the action’ complete Don quickly closed the door. Undo Everything!!! I believe I mentioned that we were on “final” approach when this all started, and not too high above the ground. Wheeeee what a ride!!
A little power slowed our decent to give a bit more time to calm down and then, once again, we landed so gently that it was hard to tell we were on the ground.
After we rinsed off the airplane, again, I asked Don just why he had opted to open the door instead of the window. He said …… well, ...... yea, you know what he said ![Indifferent <img src=]() " src="/forum/emoticons/emotion-8.gif">
Joe
Never Let Common Sense Get in the Way of Determination
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03-03-2007, 11:48 AM
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Herschel
Joined on 01-30-2006
Monterey, Louisiana
Posts 3,149
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Joe, I can relate.I been there and got that t shirt. "Moderate" (where'd they get the "moderate"???) turbulence will kick your butt all over the sky.
Herschel
"Chief Instigator"
Stop "Poly-Ticks" in Washington!!
(definitian)
Poly: many
Ticks: blood suckin' insects
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Gold Grubbin' C... » Administrators » Story Time » Re: Old Two Bags
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