"Phineas Pinkham" wrote:


"Ed Rasimus" wrote in message

The first pilot
time requirements reflect a recognition of the difference between
small airplanes where an aviator is flying and multi-place airplanes
where an aviator is observing.


Ed Rasimus

What a childish comment from an immature arschloch.
Reflects the mentality of single seat numb-nuts versus the professionalism
of multi-engine Pilots.


I guess the difference in time requirement 2000 vs 1300 and 3000 vs
2300 was an adjustment for the delays built in waiting for the
assistant pilot to respond to those checklist challenges.

Here's an excerpt from book 2, in draft, regarding my time in droning
airplanes with passengers in back--checking out in the T-29 at
Randolph AFB while assigned to Hq.:

"Check-out in the airplane was a disaster. It started with a local
orientation flight. Half a dozen staff types loaded onto an airplane
and over a four-hour flight we sat in the airline-style seats reading
magazines and waiting for a chance to take the controls for a period
ranging from fifteen minutes to an hour. I was eventually called to
the cockpit where I was directed into the left seat. The view was
pretty good, but the big steering wheel was clearly converting flying
into an unnatural act. The throttle quadrant was between the seats,
requiring power control with the wrong hand, and there were a
profusion of knobs and levers on the quadrant that implied the
airplane had a lot more than the two engines I knew were out there on
the wing. Trim wasn't through an electrical thumb switch, but rather
with a large wheel mounted vertically on the side of the throttle
pedestal. My first attempt at a slight turn met with no result. It
quickly became apparent that the fingertip flying of high performance
jets wasn't the mode of operation for reciprocating engine trash
haulers. It took considerable muscling to get the airplane to move out
of straight and level. Control pressures weren't the solution, brute
force manipulation of the wheel was.

After the chuckles of the instructor pilot and flight mechanic over my
control technique subsided, we entered the traffic pattern. "We're
going to do a couple of visual touch-and-goes," the IP said. "Call for
the before landing checklist."

"OK" I responded. Nothing happened.

"Call for the before landing checklist," he repeated.

"Right. Give it to me," I tried again. Still nothing.

"You have to say the words," he scolded. "You have to say, 'before
landing checklist.'"

"You're kidding aren't you? OK, before landing checklist," I intoned.

"Props?" The flight mechanic opened his greasy yellow checklist and
began reading. I looked quizzically at the IP. He pointed to two of
the knobs at the top of the throttle quadrant. Then held them down for
about eight seconds until the RPM of the engines magically, without
moving the throttles, moved to 2400. "That sets the props to proper
pitch," the mech explained. "You're supposed to do that and then say,
'2400, set.'"

"Flaps," the flight mechanic continued then looked expectantly at me
again.

I looked out the window on my side of the cockpit and determined that
I couldn't see any flaps. Without a clue about what was needed, I
said, "OK, set them."

"No," the mech warned, "You're supposed to say fifteen degrees."

I'm nothing if not a quick study. "That sounds right. OK, set the
flaps." Nothing happened.

The IP was now beginning to glare a bit impatiently. "You have to say,
"fifteen degrees, then the copilot will set them while you fly the
airplane."

Determined to play the game, I say, "fifteen degrees." Now there's
action from the IP who fiddles with a little lever and leans
myopically forward to stare at the flap position indicator setting it
to exactly fifteen, not fourteen, not sixteen, but precisely fifteen.
He's gotten where he is today by being precise.

The flight mech continues down the list. "Mixture?" I ask what the
proper response is. The IP says to set the red levers to full forward
or rich. I ask who is authorized to do that and the IP motions to the
flight mechanic sitting between us and hovering over the throttles. I
tell him to go ahead.

"Sir, I can't do it unless you say 'full rich,' then I move the
levers." The enlisted mechanic is frustrated by my manifest
incompetence.

I'm in an airplane that barely responds to control inputs, that
requires some sort of Gilbert and Sullivan duet to get anything done
and which apparently is dependent upon an exaggerated "simon says"
game before anything happens. Frustrated, I ask the IP "why, if
everyone here but me knows the answer, do we have to ask the
questions? If I ask for the before landing checklist, and now you know
that's what I want, why don't you just do it?" He shakes his head at
the ignorance of this former single-seat, single-engine fighter pilot
who is now adrift on his many-motored, trash-hauling turf. It begins
to dawn on me that I'm dead meat in this game of aeronautical
one-upmanship. I'm learning about something called crew coordination."


Ed Rasimus
Fighter Pilot (ret)
***"When Thunder Rolled:
*** An F-105 Pilot Over N. Vietnam"
*** from Smithsonian Books
ISBN: 1588341038