Stand BY-Y-Y to Start Engines

by Daniel V Gallery

  "Then I poured on the coal, kicked right rudder," he said, "and ..."

  At this point Lieutenant Peabody strolled up to the table looking like a cat full of canaries au gratin. "Hello, hotshot," he said. "What are you intrepid birdmen cooking up now? Something us ordinary fliers wouldn't even understand, I suppose."

  "Hello," grunted Curly, who was one of the host of naval pilots who were rabid dis-admirers of Percy.

  "You ought to take time out now and then from your looping, swooping, and sideswiping," observed Peabody casually, "and explain some of the facts of life in a military organization to that ragtime bunch of sailors you've got in your outfit."

  "Whaddya mean by that?" demanded Curly.

  "I had to put another one of your flathats on the report this afternoon," said Peabody smugly.

  "Yeah?" said Curly. "Who? What for?"

  "A first-class by the name of Kennedy for being out of uniform. He was driving back here from Corry wearing coveralls."

  Curly's tailpipe temperature began creeping up into the red sector. "Hell, everybody does that," he said. "I should think you could find enough to do keeping your own people in line. Kennedy is my plane captain. Best jet engine mechanic in the Navy. Why don't you let me handle this?"

  "Too late now," said Peabody. "I already turned in the report Sorry... Well ... I'll be seein' ya. Fly 'em low and slow and stay within gliding distance..." and he strolled off.

  "That son of a bitch," said Curly fervently.

  "Gutzon Borglum oughta carve that on a mountain," agreed Joe.

  "That's about the sixth one of our people he's put on the in the past couple of months," said Jim. "He does it because he's griped about not making our team, so he takes it out on our enlisted men. One of these days I'm gonna put ground glass in his mashed potatoes."

  "Yeah," said Jim. "He takes it out on the cadets too, especially on formation checks. Somebody was telling me the other day --"

  "So, he's tough on formation checks, is he?" interrupted Curly with a shrewd glint in his eye. "That reminds me of a little hanky-panky I was thinking about some time ago. We might pull it on him."

  "Oh-oh!" said Jim. "Fasten your seat belt, Joe. Here we go again." (Curly's hanky-panky always produced high blood pressure in its victims and, as already related, sometimes caused ace aviators to hit the panic button.)

  "I wouldn't pull this on any regular guy," said Curly, "because it might put him in the bughouse. But that's where Peabody belongs anyway. It's a sure-fire way to drive a flight instructor plumb screaming crazy."

  "With Peabody," observed Jim, "that wouldn't be a drive, just a short putt. Give out, Curly. What's the pitch?"

  "I've listened in a couple of times on the voice radio," said Curly, "when Peabody was giving formation checks. He yells at the cadets like a big bad wolf, trying to show 'em how tough he is. But actually he's as oopsy as a mouse at a cat show up there. He's scared stiff that something will happen while he is responsible. He's trying to make admiral, you know. So he's a nervous Nellie when anything unusual happens. He don't give a damn how many cadets wind up in the meat wagon when they are on their own. But he don't want it to happen when he's in charge."

  "So... where do we go from here?" asked Jim.

  "Well, suppose he went out someday for a formation check with three cadets, and things got sort of out of hand. Suppose they started doing crossover turns, Dutch rolls, spinning in formation, and stuff like that there. That would shake him up, wouldn't it?"

  "It would jar his dandruff loose," said Joe. "But it probably would splatter blood-guts-and-feathers all over the countryside, too. We would be shy three cadets at the next muster."

  "Not if you pick the right 'cadets' we wouldn't"

  "But those guys he checks are all brand-new primary students. None of 'em are good enough to do that kind of stuff."

  "But we could do it. Couldn't we?" asked Curly.

  "Sure. But what's that got to do with... hmmm... hah!... well, I'll be dipped in gook! Of course we can do it! Say hey!! Let's kick the idea around a bit."

  "It will be as easy as a straight-in approach on the main runway with the sun behind you," said Curly. "After he gets through briefing his cadets for their formation check, we intercept them on the way to their planes and tell them to get lost. Then we get in the planes and give him the business."

  "It will be wonderful," breathed Joe. "I can just see old Percy with his big mouth wide open and his eyes popping out like a tromped-on toad's. In five minutes we can have him crazier than a gooney bird. He'll blow his main gasket and pee in his pants."

  "Not only that," agreed Curly; "we can have our boys tune in on our own ground radio and tape the whole thing. If it turns out the way I think it will everybody in the Navy will want a copy. It will be Number 1 on the hit parade. He'll never live it down even if he gets to be CNO."

  Next day Peabody was briefing the three cadets he was about to check out that morning.

  "Now you guys take off in V formation, head for Area B and climb to 6000 feet. I'll be right behind you and I'll tell the leader what I want you to do. You men in the No. 2 and 3 spots, never mind what I say. Just watch the leader and take your signals from him. Standard distance is two wing spans cockpit to cockpit. Don't try to pull any fancy stuff. Just plain, conservative, straightaway flying. STAY OUT OF THE CLOUDS. For guys at your stage of training, flying into a cloud can be just as bad as flying into a mountain. The leader is responsible at all times for avoiding other aircraft whether I see them or not. Also for not executing an order that would be dangerous. Any questions?"

  There were none.

  "Okay. Man your planes. Wait for me on the warm-up strip at the end of the runway - and try to show me that you're not as dumb as the three of you look."

  A few minutes later three training planes manned by Curly, Joe and Jim taxied out to the warm-up strip. The three Blue Angels ran through their checkoff lists and throttled down to wait for Percy. Presently he came rolling out and said on the voice radio, "Okay, mister leader. Get your aces up in the air."

  Curly and his boys taxied out, assumed a loose V formation, and took off into the wild blue yonder, followed immediately by Percy.

  It wasn't much of a takeoff. The two wing men straggled badly, and before long Curly was far ahead of them and there was no semblance of a proper V formation.

  We shift now to the Blue Angels' mobile ground radio station, where a large group of pilots and enlisted men are expectantly gathered around a receiver tuned to the frequency on which Peabody will transmit. Soon after takeoff the following comes in:

  Peabody: "Come on, you guys. Close up. That was the lousiest takeoff I've seen in a long time."

  (Curly keeps boiling straight ahead, climbing at full gun, and the others continue to lose distance.)

  Peabody: "Throttle down, No. 1. This isn't the National Air Races. How can these other guys catch up when you blast off that way?"

  (Curly slows down, almost to stalling speed. The others pour on the coal and close in rapidly. But they overshoot him, and, to get back astern of him again, instead of throttling down, they go into 360° turns. Jim goes right and Joe left, thus scattering the formation all over the sky.)

  Peabody: "That did it! Now we got to take time out and rendezvous all over again. Hold your altitude, No. 1, and go into an easy turn to the left. Just keep on circling where you are until those other guys join up. All cadets acknowledge."

  (Curly, Joe and Jim roger promptly and for a minute the air is silent Then the following comes in:)

  "Number 2 to No. 1, Where are you?"

  "Number 1 to No. 2, I'm over Corry Field at 5000."

  Peabody: "No, you're not, stupid. You're over Milton at 5500."

  No. 2: "Oh, okay. I see you now. I'll join up right away."

  (A minute later, No. 2 comes swooping down headed right at Peabody, chops off the gun at the last possible instant, fishtails violently, and drops into No. 2 position on the chase plane, which is tagging al
ong a couple of hundred yards behind Curly. The slambang join-up nearly scared the drawers off Percy.)

  Jim: "Number 2 joined up and in position now, sir."

  Peabody: "Like hell you are. You've joined up on me. Get out of here and get up there ahead where you belong... and don't do it like a bulldozer in a crockery store."

  Jim: "Oh! Excuse me, sir. My mistake."

  Peabody: "Chase pilot calling No. 3. Chase pilot calling No. 3. Come in."

  Joe: "Number 3 to chase pilot. Hear you loud and clear. Go ahead, chase plane, sir."

  Peabody: "Just where in the wild hell are you?"

  Joe: "Over the lighthouse, sir, at 6000 feet circling to the right. I can't see you anywheres."

  Peabody: "Over the lighthouse! What makes you think there's a lighthouse at Milton? It's ten miles inland! Come on, now, get over here. We'll circle at 6000 and wait for you."

  (There follows about a minute's silence and then --)

  "Joe: "Number 3 to chase pilot. Where is Milton, sir?"

  Peabody: "Good grief. Where is Milton? How long you been around here, mister?"

  Joe: "I'm sorry, sir. I don't have a map."

  Peabody: "You probably couldn't find it on the map even if you did have one! Everybody who isn't feeble-minded knows where Milton is. Can you read a compass, mister?"

  Joe: "Number 3 to chase plane affirmative, sir."

  Peabody: "Then steer zero four five, that's northeast to you, for about five minutes, at 6000 feet. We will watch for you and try to take you by the hand and lead you into position."

  Joe: "Roger. Wilco. Thank you, sir. Taking departure now from lighthouse."

  (Five minutes later Joe comes barging up and joins the other three planes circling over Milton. He takes station to the right of Curly in the No. 3 spot, roughly abeam of Jim, who is flying in the No. 2 position - except that he is at a distance of about ten wing spans - much too far out. As Joe settles down in "position," the eager crowd in the radio shack hear the following from the loudspeaker:)

  Curly: "Number 1 to chase pilot. Section is rendezvoused, sir. Ready to proceed with check."

  (By this time the crowd around the Blue Angels radio is almost rolling on the deck laughing at the comedy of errors coming out of the speaker. But one of the insiders on the deal remarks, "You guys ain't heard nothin' yet. The real act is just about to begin.")

  Peabody: "The hell you are ready to start the check. You're hardly within sight of each other. Close up."

  (Joe and Jim cautiously close up to about nine wing spans.)

  Peabody: "Come on. Come on. Get in there where you belong."

  (Joe and Jim gradually ease in to eight wing spans.)

  Peabody: "What the hell's the matter with you guys? Two wing spans is the right interval. Get in there, goddamn it."

  (Jim and Joe now barge in on Curly and settle down with their wingtips almost touching his tail in the Blue Angels regular close-order formation in which a slight bobble would mean disaster.)

  Peabody: "My God... look out!... don't overdo it!... open out... open out!"

  (Jim and Joe open out about half a wing span and. stay there.)

  Peabody: "You're still way too close. Get back! Two wing spans is proper distance. Open out."

  (Jim and Joe finally drop back to the proper interval and Lieutenant Peabody gets ready to go on with the business of putting them through their formation check.)

  Peabody: "Aw right now. Let's see if you guys can do anything right. Go into left echelon."

  (Jim starts pulling up and sliding over to the right.)

  Peabody: "No. No. No. Hold it. I said left echelon."

  Curly: "I thought you said right, sir."

  Peabody: "No, I didn't. I said left echelon."

  Curly: "You want left echelon, sir."

  Peabody: "That's right."

  Curly: "Oh, excuse me, sir. Right echelon?"

  Peabody: "No. Negative. Dammit, get the feathers out of your ears and put your section in left echelon. Acknowledge."

  Curly: "Aye, aye, sir. Left echelon. Wilco. Out."

  (Curly gives the execute signal and Joe performs the maneuver very cautiously. He pulls up slowly about twenty feet, throttles down just a touch to lose distance gradually, and inches across to his new position at the end of the echelon. Before the maneuver is half over Peabody is yelling at Joe to speed it up, putting the blast on him in rather impolite language. Finally Joe makes it to his new position and, except for the snail's pace at which it was done, the maneuver was well executed.)

  Peabody: "You did that like an old lady crossing a slippery street on a windy day. Let's put more snap into it.... Now let me see a ninety-degree turn to the right."

  (Curly goes into a very shallow turn to the right)

  Peabody: "Come on. Bank it up... more... more... there, that's about right. Hold that."

  (Curly keeps right on banking till his wings are almost vertical. The others stay with him in exact position. By the time the bank gets to 60º Peabody is screaming at Curly to come out of it.)

  Peabody: "That's too much... too much... level out."

  (Curly straightens out on the new course. They are still in left echelon. At this point Peabody gets ready to pull his gambit of booby-trapping them into starting a turn against the echelon.)

  Peabody: "Aw right now. Mr. Leader, you're on your own now and you wanna make a ninety-degree turn to the left. Lemme see how you do it... but take it easy."

  (To turn left, the leader should first shift the formation into right echelon.)

  Curly: "Ninety-degree left turn. Wilco. Out."

  Peabody (a few seconds later): "Good Gawd Almighty... look out!... holy cow!"

  (Curly had suddenly whipped into a vertical bank against the echelon and his pals had done a double crossover turn. In this maneuver, the leader noses down and the others pull up to avoid hitting him as he crosses in front of them. As No. 2 crosses over the leader, he whips around to the new course, and No. 3 crosses over both the leader and No. 2 before he does.

  (This is a difficult and dangerous maneuver. Even good fighter pilots are apt to have a mid-air if their timing is just a little off. It was used in World War I but was abandoned afterwards. Pilots all agreed it was a hairy way to make a living and there was no future in it. But, of course, for the Blue Angels a double crossover is all in a day's work.

  (In the time it takes to tell about it, the three planes were rolling back to level flight, 90° to the left of their former course, in perfect echelon formation but now [due to the crossover] right echelon instead of left.)

  Peabody: "Oh... oh... oh... [there followed a lot of language that cannot be repeated here and should never be used on the air]... You poor saps are lucky to be alive. Get that maniac out of the lead spot. Number 2 take the lead and No. 1 take No. 3 spot."

  Curly: "Roger. Turning the lead over to No. 2."

  (The proper way to do this when in right echelon is for the leader to slide out to the left, slow down, and then ease over to the right, winding up in the tail-end spot of the echelon. The man who was No. 2 is now leading and No. 3 has graduated to the No. 2 spot. The way Curly did it was to haul back on the stick, going into a tight loop, sliding over to the right while upside down, and dropping smack into the No. 3 spot as he completed the loop.)

  Peabody: "No... no... no... NO -"

  Curly (interrupting): "Sorry, sir. The stick slipped out of my hand and I lost control for a minute. I can do it better than that, sir, if you want me to try it again."

  Peabody: "Good Gawd, no... NEGATIVE... you'll never fead a lormation - I mean, lead a formation - again if I've got anything to say about it."

  Curly: "Rajah, sir. Over and out."

  Peabody: "Now s-s-s-settle down, you g-g-g-guys... and don't g-get excited. See if you can't do things right in the time we got left."

  Joe (who is leading now): "Rajah. Go left. Wilco. Out."

  (They go into a normal 30° bank left turn.)

  Peabody: "Hell,
no. I didn't mean turn left. I was talking about the time left. Straighten out."

  (Joe rolls out of the turn headed straight at a towering bank of cumulus cloud about a quarter of a mile ahead. The base of the cloud is at 5000 feet. The formation is at 6000.)

  Peabody: "No! No! Keep going to the left. Stay away from that cloud. Go left."