As a child, I grew up dreaming of being a pilot. When I got older I satisified my hunger for flight by becoming an accomplished Radio Control pilot. My interests in R/C modeling were well rooted in high performance aerobatic aircraft, with the Pitts Special and the late Art Scholl's DeHavilland Chipmunk being my favorite models. My airplanes flew very fast and rarely remained upright.Lately, I have become a computer flight-sim junkie, and have "flown" everything from Fokkers to Yaks to Hornets to Warthogs. For a long time, I've only been able to imagine what it was like to "bank, yank, pull a few G's" for real. My participation as the Superbatics '95 official photographer changed all that.
After the Halcones finished their "Press Show" the day before the real show opened, members of the press, special visitors and others were asked if they'd like a hop with the Halcones. I was walking around the planes on the flightline, shooting photos of the interaction of the Chilean visitors and the Combat Air Museum staff when the Chilean Group Commander, Lt. Col. Osvaldo Bahamondes asked me if I'd like to go flying with the Halcones!
Once I got my breathing back under control, I uttered an excited "Yessir!" He directed me to the VIP tent where they were about to start a briefing for the pilots and guests. Col. Bahamondes directed me to the group and announced in spanish to the assembled pilots that I was going on the hop.
After giving me the eye, several of the pilots acquired rather grim looks and a discussion ensued in rapid-fire spanish. Though they were speaking in a foriegn tongue, the topic of the discussion was obvious... I am a big man; being 6'2", and over 250lbs. The discussion was undoubtedly touching on such concerns as aircraft gross weight, center of gravity positioning, wing-loading, fuel consumption, rates of climb, horsepower-to-weight ratios, probably even tire inflation pressure, and any other number of things that might be effected by putting a behemouth such as myself in the front seat of their little Extra 300.
Behind me, back at the aircraft, the Chilean Air Force enlisted ground crews were apparently having the same discussion, holding up a parachute harness, and visually measuring the length of the straps as compared to my girth.
It was decided, however, to give it a go, and I was assigned to the number four aircraft. I was introduced to my pilot, Major Duncan Silva.
"So, Mieeke, you are goeeng to be my co-pilot!" he exclaimed in heavily accented english. I enthusiastically shook his hand and agreed. I noted mentally that he was obviously the smallest of their bunch. So much the better to keep the flying weight down, I supposed.
During the quick briefing on what was going to take place during the flight, I learned that we would be doing a formation take-off and climb out. We would then do a couple of formation maneuvers before breaking off for some solo aerobatics. Cool.
Mounting up was interesting. The crew chief told me exactly where to step when climbing aboard, wincing outwardly as I stepped up onto the left wing. I'm sure he was hoping against hope I wouldn't collapse the wing, or worse, capsize the aircraft. I made it into the tight forward cockpit without any untoward events occuring, however.
The crew chief had enough forethought to loosen the straps on the parachute harness to their maximum length, and even then, we had to compress my large thighs significantly to fasten the lower part of the harness. After exhaling profusely, and condensing my abdomen as much as possible, the shoulder harness fastened in place with a satisifying "click".
Then began my first-ever parachute briefing; in spanish and highly accented english. My crewman kept pointing to my lower left abdomen and saying something unintelligible. After he then made several sharp, upward, pulling motions I began to gather what he was referring to. I said, "D-Ring!... Si!" and acknowledged I had figured out where the rip cord was and how to use it.
We next fought the Battle Of The Four-Point Harness. When the lower straps and the shoulder straps refused to come closer together than an inch or two to each other, I was instructed to rise from the seat as far as possible. On doing so, the crewman reached under me and removed the seat cushion. With this slight spacer gone, we were able to fasten the harness. At the time, the removal of the cushion seemed a small sacrifice for getting fastened in.
Just when it seemed things were progressing nicely, the crew chief asked Major Silva to move the joystick through its full range of motion. This action set the forward stick thrashing about my ample legs and thighs, and touched off yet another spanish debate as to whether the control throws were adequate for our safe passage through the air. Fortunately, the lower parachute straps prevented the most painful injury to my person by stopping the stick at full up elevator before it could inflict any injury.
It was finally decided (with only minor bruises to my inner thighs) that the control throw range was adequate. Partly as a joke, one of the ground crew handed me a little baggie. Duncan chuckled as I made a show of tucking it some place close at hand.
On a signal from the lead aircraft, all canopies were closed simultaneously. The interior tempurature instantly shot up to about 350 degrees or so. My Chilean pilot kept keying the intercom and asking, "Eeets, hot, Mieeke, Si?"The signal was given to start engines and the prop began to swing through. A hint of a breeze began to blow through the airliner-bathroom-vent sized ventilator located on the instrument panel. Unfortunately, the engine only sputtered then died. After a couple more cranks, the battery died with it.
"The eengeene ees hot, Mieeke, Si?"
A jumper battery was soon wheeled up to the aircraft and after a short struggle, the motor finally caught and ran up nicely, creating a refreshing 150 degree breeze through my little vent. "How about a little airco, Duncan, Si?" I asked. A muffled laugh the only response.
The Halcones perform every flight as though they are in front of a crowd. All six planes (the number 6 spare was rolled out to allow an additional press hop) piroetted in unison and began a staggared formation taxi towards the departure end of runway 13. Duncan would gently feed in alternate rudder to allow vision past the nose and stay in tight to the number 3 plane on our right. Even taxiing was impressive for it's precision.
As we approached the run-up area, I heard the request go out to the tower for clearance to take-off. The radio work was done by Mike Sherburne, passanger in the number 2 plane. He is a local instructor pilot, who helped with the airshow (he flew the jump plane for the parachutists that opened the show).
"Halcone flight of 6, cleared to runway 13 for take-off," came the clearance from the tower and numbers 1 through 4 taxied out for take-off.
We arranged ourselves in a finger-four formation, with #2 to the right of the lead, #3 to the left, and us in #4 to the right of #2. With a steady, slow throttle advance, we began our takeoff roll. If I had been paying sole attention to the aircraft to our left, I might not have had any sense of motion, as we held perfect position throughout the take off and climb out. Once airborne, numbers 5 and 6 joined up and we were a 6 plane diamond, soaring into the beautiful Kansas sky.
After I overcame the fasination at our remarkably close formation, I began to fear it. I had been keeping my gaze fixed on the cockpit of the plane ahead and left. As we continued to climb, I looked straight over the front and realized that our prop was going to chew off the right wingtip of the number 2 plane at any moment. Additionally, our left wingtip was swirling about the right horizontal stabilizer on the number 2 plane like the swords of two fencers about to lunge. The two airplanes couldn't have been more than 2 or 3 feet apart. I swear.
As we continued to climb out, we made a couple of gentle turns to steer us towards the area where we were cleared for aerobatics. Some light turbulence added to the excitement as Duncan tried his best to hold formation. As we were third from the lead, we were like the tip of a whip. The large amount of additional inertia I added to the physics he had to put up with forced him to work extra hard to hold position. Despite the fact he was working the throttle like a lumberjack would a two-handed saw, he held close enough formation to spook me, but good. I had to keep reminding myself, "this guy does this for a living.. he's got 2,700 hours in the air... he's been with the Halcones for 3 years..."
Finally, the number 5 and 6 planes left the formation, and we slid into the slot position of the diamond; behind and below the leader. As we were changing position, I felt better about our prospects of avoiding a midair, until we settled into our place. It was then apparent we were about to cut off the tail of the leader with our prop! Duncan did seem to have a better time with holding our formation, however.
"Hold on to your camera, Mieeke!", Duncan called from the back as the formation began a shallow dive to pick up speed.
We then began a 3G pull into a formation loop. The only problem was we were much heavier than the others, and the formation left us behind! We were about a quarter loop behind the formation as they pulled back to level flight, and we came screaming up behind them, our momentum on the backside of the loop much greater than theirs. This did allow us to return to formation quite rapidly, and again I was staring at the rivets on the bottom of the leaders plane.
We next did a formation roll that was really pretty tame, following which the numbers 1 and 2 flipped upside down and flew above our heads in a mirror formation for awhile. While that was interesting and all, I was certainly glad I wasn't the one about to fall through the Saran-wrap canopy!
After everyone had righted themselves, the formation broke apart for some solo aerobatics.
"Now for some preeseesion aeerobateecs, Mieeke!", said Duncan, "First a barnstormer's loop!" He then pulled us into a much tighter loop than we had flown before. During the short periods of multiple G, I began desiring the seat cushion we had left on the ground!
"Next, a sloooowww roooolll...", and yes, he drug it out like that for effect.
Duncan dove the plane for speed and pulled up slightly above the horizon, then began a nice gentle roll. As we came almost inverted, it was apparent the nose was beginning to drop (me and my baggage, I suppose) and he had to push some negative G's to hold the nose up. I found myself hanging by my seat straps, and praising those good old German canvas makers! What a ride!
"Now for a hammerhead!"
Again we started a dive to pick up speed. Out the front of the aircraft I could see we were diving towards a high school practice football field, covered with young gridders. We pulled vertical and began to loose speed rapidly. Duncan kicked left rudder and we pivoted ass over tea kettle. We were soon diving straight down next to our own column of smoke. Through the prop, I could see every vivid detail of the ground as it rushed up to meet us. The football practice had stopped, and every helmeted head was pointed straight up.
As the coaches were about to blow their whistles to clear the field, Duncan pulled us out in what he told me later was a 5G pullout. I wouldn't know. I was in LaLa-land. The effects of the G's overwhelmed me quickly and my vision went away.
"How are you doeeeng, Mieeke?" Duncan asked over the intercom.
"I think I've had enough aerobatics for today, Duncan, lets just fly around straight and level for awhile." I replied, as I held up a thumb for him to see behind me. I was also checking to see if my little baggie was still handy. Just in case...
The intercom must have been broke because he said, "aileron roll!" and as quickly said it was done. Man, can that Extra churn!
Fortunately, as we finished the roll, the call came in from the lead to join back up for the flight back to the field. The Halcones like to finish every flight with a 5 plane formation loop with a WWII style break to landing, with all planes going different directions on the break and establishing their intervals for landing. There was some discussion about whether to do the loop or not, most of it in spanish. As I heard the word "Quatro" used frequently, it was obvious Duncan was concerned about us holding formation in the loop leading to the break. It was decided to forego the loop and just do the break.
Clearance was given and all six planes dove on the field in a beautiful formation with smoke on. It was exhilerating to be a part of such a beautiful bit of aviation odyssey.
We landed uneventfully and taxied to the ramp again in formation. We then got to experience first hand the precision exhibited by both the pilots and the ground crews as we parked and shut down in unison and with precision steps.
After crawling from the plane, I was given a nice "Diploma de Honor" commemorating our flight with the Halcones. I then made a show of cerremoniously returning my baggie to Duncan, unused.It was an unforgetable experience, and I shall cherish the certificate, the photos and the memories forever.