All posts by Pierre

Leadership

Over-G

All the aircraft we fly have certain restrictions based to their flying capability. These limitations really must be heeded by the pilot, for immediate and long-term aircraft viability and safety. For example, one limitation might be the maximum airspeed the aircraft can fly.   Unfortunately,  in 2002, a test pilot’s F-15 disintegrated over the Gulf of Mexico doing a high speed test, killing the pilot.   The basis of the investigation reduced the maximum speed of the F-15 to 1.8  . He was pushing Mach 2.0 when the vertical stabilator dismantled.    I feel fortunate that this had not happened to me one time when I pushed the jet to almost Mach 2.0 (the mach meter just couldn’t quite reach the 2.0 limit) in a high altitude dive when our adversaires cancelled our fight.  I tried the same thing once as a young Lieutenant while at Bergstrom flying the F-4.    It was basically suggested by my WSO (to remain nameless) that we should try to get above Mach 2.0; which I enthusiastically and naively embraced.   We put it the jet in a low gravity dive at about 35,000 feet with full afterburner.    The jet started shaking as we (literally) plummeted to the earth.    (All phantom drivers know that the F-4 has the aerodynamic characterics of a flying brick, and that day we just let the brick drop).    For me, the funniest part was that after I selected full afterburner, I kept feeling the throttles bumping forward, knowing the backseater was ensuring we got every ounce of thrust we could out of those J79s.

Another story I outlined earlier happened in regard to material stress at the following link.

So, beyond airspeed, one of the most critical and difficult restrictions to meet was the G-limit on the aircraft. The G-limit is how many times the weight of gravity you could pull (the stick) in a turn before permanently damaging the aircraft. When studying “materials” in college, I remember that there is designated amount of force that can be put on a material that doesn’t cause it to bend or break permanently. Of course,  another limitation is how many times that material can be stressed before it fatigues, weakens, cracks, or other generates another unpredictable issue challenge.

The amount of G-s one could pull is dependent (physics) on the altitude and airspeed of the aircraft. From the equation below, density (related to altitude) and velocity squared (airspeed), effect the amount of Lift (or G-load). I apologize for getting so technical; but I really never get to use any of my Bachelor’s degree information.

The challenges is that whenever dogfighting, the goal is to either “shoot” your opponent, or to not get “shot” by your opponent. An aircraft making a tighter turn (with other geometric advantages) usually has the advantage. Getting the advantage often meant pulling more G’s. Therefore, to win meant to fly the jet to its limit but not over the limit.

Over the limit meant “Over-G”

If you Over-G’d the aircraft, you had to stop the fight, have someone visually check out the aircraft and confirm nothing obviously broken, and then fly home without maneuvering to a straight-in approach. The rest of your angered flight would have to either escort you home or do an alternative mission.

You also created a major burden for maintenance, since (dependent upon the amount of Over-G) they would need to examine panels, test the force bearing structure, look for cracks and damage (using X-ray and dyes), and potentially reducing the flight life of the aircraft.

While flying, the trade-off of avoiding maximum performance was getting shot (and killed in combat) by the adversary.

To know how many G’s you were pulling, you had a G-meter in the aircraft and displayed on the “Head’s Up Display” which is recorded for post-flight viewing and verification. Also, “Bitching Betty” the verbal cue in the aircraft starts beeping when approaching the G-limit and gives a steady beep when at the limit. If you exceed the limit, Betty says “Over-G, Over-G, Over-G” usually followed by a few swear words from the pilot.

In the debrief, if a pilot flew their jet to the steady beep, but did not exceed it, they would be lauded. Some of our most talented (Weapon’s School Graduates or Nuts) would ride that beep steady. I was often too afraid to Over-G to go into the steady beep and hope to hit the beeps.

So you can see the incentive for young pilots is to get to the steady beep in order to be praised by their elders. But, because of this youthful exuberance, it often resulted in an “Over-G”. One time, our Operations Officer “Popeye” got a rash of frustration from the maintenance leadership. They told him the excessive number of Over-Gs are forcing their people to focus on inspections instead of preparing jets for flight.

As can be expected from our hierarchal gun-slinging leaders, I got a quick fix to this “technical” problem. (FYI, it was not a technical problem that could be solved with a simple mandate)

Popeye announced to the squadron that if anyone “Over-Gs” they would be fined $5.00 (the $5.00 rule) in the bar on Friday, and anyone that “Over-G’s” twice would spend the day grounded as a bathroom attendant. We all snickered and laughed at the prospect.

So, a couple of weeks later, I arrived in the operations part of the squadron and went into the bathroom prior to my briefing. The bathroom smelled like lavender with carefully placed soaps, fragrances, poo pourri, shaving cream around the sinks. After using the “loo” I washed my hands and turned around and Popeye handed me a towel.

I think we both started laughing as I knew what must have happened. He set the ultimatum and was the first to Over-G twice. But “he owned the crime and did his time; and did it exceedingly well.”

Great job Popeye! After his incident, the number of Over-Gs dramatically decreased equal to the increase in the admiration and respect for him. Popeye’s next assignment was as squadron commander of the world’s greatest fighter squadron.

Dailies, Leadership, Pilot Story

The “Ping” Putter

62-3632, Northrop AT-38B Talon, United States Air Force

Near the end of my AT-38 tour, my additional duty was as “Chief of Weapons” and responsible for coordinating the combat preparation or training activities of the squadron. This is normally a fairly esteemed position in a fighter squadron but has less acclaim in a fighter “training” squadron. All of my early mentors were Weapons Officers and they lived in the weapons shop, so nonetheless, it was a job that I had aspired to.

While training Taiwanese pilots, we had extra funds to entice a front-line fighter squadron to train two weeks with us. It was good for them to fly against a “MiG-21” type aircraft. We were small and visually challenging for fighting. For the Taiwanese, it was a chance to practice against a fourth-generation fighter. For us, it was the opportunity to mix with our old buddies and try to beat them up with our limited trainer and huge amounts of bravado. We invited an F-15C squadron from Alaska to visit warm Southern New Mexico as they also prepped for further training during the winter in the lower states.

As the Chief of Weapons, it was my job to coordinate the visit and prepare the training materials and tactics to maximize the two weeks event. After coordinating with the Alaskan squadron, I developed a five-page training program and circulated it through the different offices and then the commanders in the squadron. The day before the “Eagles” arrived, I made about 50 copies of the program and placed it on the operations desk for our pilots, students, and visitors to review prior to their in-briefs.

Then I went out on an uneventful training sortie.

When I got back, a couple Captains told me to watch out, our Squadron Commander, the boss (Lt Col squadron commander), was on a rampage. “Watch out, he is out for your head.” I quickly reviewed everything that happened on the sortie and over the previous few days and couldn’t imagine what I did to make him upset. Ugh!

When I walked into my office, it was covered with my training booklets. They were torn into quarters and strewn across every open piece of space in the room. “S@#$, what did I do?” There was one piece was taped onto my whiteboard that said in big back Sharpie “LUCKY – SEE ME!”

I meekly entered the command office, and the secretary looked sad for me. She said “He is really pissed-off!”

“Dang, time to face the music.”

“Sir?” I peaked my head around the corner of his door, ready to spring away if something was thrown at me.

“Dagnabit Lucky, What the $#@# were you thinking? Do you know who the Chief of Weapons is in this Squadron?” (Clearly a loaded question that I was too scared to recognize).

I said very humbly, “me?”

“Are you an idiot? I am the Chief of Weapons and every other job in this squadron, nothing gets decided or printed until I approve it, do you understand?” he said with spit sprewing out of this mouth.

I mumbled a quiet “yes.” Wondering if he was going to ground me or something worse.

“Next time you organize weapon and tactic procedures, you coordinate it through me, do you understand?”

“Uh, yes Sir, but … I did, and here is your signature.” I pointed out.

“What? Let me see that, God Damn it, he stalled … Hmmmm, you know the first time I
was reviewing it for grammar, you should have sent it through a second time.” He said flabbergasted.

We both knew at this point he was full of crap and calling him out at that moment was a bad idea. Better to cut bait and run.

“Yes Sir, my bad, I will coordinate properly next time,” I stated, with a more serious and attentive snap to attention.

And, I immediately reprinted the brochure and brought it to him for coordination which he signed without any substantial input.

Obviously, I didn’t know if he was struggling with something else, but I immediately said to myself, “I will never be that kind-of commander”. One that leads through fear and ridicule, one that creates compliance but never inspiration, loyalty, or trust. One that yells, spits, and doesn’t know how to say “I’m sorry,” which for me was the only acceptable response if he ever wanted to regain trust and credibility.

That was the “old guard.” And the Air Force was fraught with this type of hierarchal leader. It just was how it was.

So, as any self-respecting fighter pilot does, I packed up all the torn brochures and stuffed them in a garbage bag; and put them under my desk awaiting the next opportunity.

A few months later, the boss was moving on and we were getting a new commander. I volunteered to prepare his going away gift. I called his wife and asked if there was something special he would like, and she said he has been “eyeing” a new Ping putter. I told her not to let him buy it and we will get him it as a going-away present.

I called the Ping factory and had a putter made individually for him, with his name and callsign engraved onto the top of it. They sent it to the squadron. And, wanting to be a good steward and not waste paper, I pulled out my garbage bag of torn brochures and wrapped that putter up in them. It took a lot of tape with a bunch of frayed paper. Even the “LUCKY, SEE ME” earned a place of prominence in the wrapping.

At the going-away party, I had the opportunity to give him his gift. In truth, the boss had done me well, given me opportunities, and set me up for future promotion. But, he also had a tendency to lose his temper and yell at subordinates.

I think his words that night were something like “Lucky, you son-of-a-bitch.” I don’t know if I built a bridge or tore one down, but I thank him for helping me know what kind of leader I wanted to be.

Dailies, Leadership, Pilot Story

Post Air Force flying

Flying over New Hampshire – like riding a bike

Yesterday and Today, my brother-in-law James took me flying in his Cirrus SR-22 aircraft. James started flying a few years ago, and he is all in. He is making his way through all the flying certifications and currently building his hours. He owns a beautiful plane and has a hanger at a local field about 10 minutes from his home. As we discussed his commitment to flying, he told me his lifestyle has had to change to accommodate this new hobby. To build and maintain his skills and his aircraft flight status, he must log about 100 hours a year. That probably means flying once or more every week. He told me he has new circles of friends who fly, he travels with other pilots and goes to aviation events with them. At home, he and his wife get together and socialize with other aviators. It is exciting to see his all-in commitment.

People ask me why I don’t still fly, and I’ve never been able to answer that question. I have loved flying and it was my sole purpose when I was younger. But, rather than becoming a commercial pilot, I wanted to foray into business. My old F-15 pilot friends say “I used to LIVE to Fly and now I Fly to LIVE” after their transition to the airlines. (While recognizing what a great job it is). Another F-15 pilot sent me a card after flying for a couple of years with Southwest. I loved it when he asked “Hey Lucky, how many G-s did you pull this year? – I thought “The F-15 can pull 9 times the weight of gravity when turning” and his response was “Well, I pulled over 100” – a reference to his much more lucrative salary.

When I think in terms of Whitney Johnson’s learning adoption curve, it makes a little more sense.

For the first few years, I was significantly challenged with constant learning, upgrades, and transitions to new aircraft. As I got older, perhaps senior Captain to young Major, I was ramping up the curve and working toward mastery of my flying skills About the time I/we fell really good about our skills, the Air Force asks us to do other things, and flying becomes and additional duty versus our primary duty. Sometimes, we are asked to take positions with no flying responsibilities but with new and exciting challenges.

This crossroads requires the pilot to decide, “do I want to stay flying” or do I want to pursue other opportunities.” I didn’t know that I had passed this intersection, when I discovered that my career flying opportunities were limited. As I noticed that I was excelling at other opportunities, flying disappeared into the rear-view-mirror. It wasn’t a predetermined choice, it just came and went. Unfortunately, as is my nature, I kept looking toward the next thing. By the time I recognized what had happened, that opportunity had “flown the coop.”

Today, we flew over the forests of New Hampshire and admired the fall foliage. James let me fly most of the route and I did three landings and before you ask, “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing!” The Cirrus is an amazing general aviation aircraft, often called the Ferrari of propeller aircraft (and that metaphor extends to cost as well). It compensated for my 15 year hiatus; but flying truly felt like riding a bike.

I have a yearning to keep flying. But I also have a yearning toward writing, lifting & obstacle racing, off-piste skiing, tennis, golf, travel, adventure and continued leadership development and support.

As I noted, I also recognize that I am often looking toward the next thing and miss the moment. My “soul’s” goals are in the future now, with new adventures and obstacles. I will definitely fly more in the future, but that life has moved on for me; and nobody will let me fly an F-15 again.

Thanks James for helping me remember what is like to be air “born,” and it was glorious!