Solo by Clyde Edgerton

Author:Clyde Edgerton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2005-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

AN AIR FORCE PILOT automatically accrued the informal status of the aircraft he flew. While the status of any particular aircraft can be argued about endlessly, a general ranking went something like this: fighter pilots were at the top of the heap, along with pilots of the A-1E, an old single-engine tail dragger. The A-1E could sustain hits from ground fire, was slow enough to have a low-radius turn, and could make many gunnery passes in a short time, and it was thus used regularly in efforts to rescue downed pilots in Southeast Asia. The tier below fighter pilots included pilots of Gooney Birds—the old C-47s from World War II, a big tail dragger with twin engines (like the airplane you see at the end of Casablanca). One of the pilots in my Laredo pilot-training class who finished high enough to choose a fighter, chose a Gooney Bird instead. It was a sentimental favorite. There was buzz about a new airplane designed for the war in Vietnam, the OV-10. It was a small, powerful turboprop aircraft with a cockpit designed like a fighter jet’s. It was used for reconnaissance and directing air strikes, and in a pinch it could transport up to six soldiers in a cargo bay.

In the next echelon were big cargo planes, and at the top of that batch was the C-130, designed to make low passes over jungle strips and drop cargo from the rear of the fuselage.

At the bottom of all mental lists that I ever knew about was the B-52, mentioned earlier.

Beneath all pilots (in the eyes of the pilots) were navigators, regardless of the aircraft they navigated. Most pilots who washed out of pilot training went to navigator-training school, and there was no shortage of navigator jokes. Navigators, on the other hand, considered themselves the brains of any flying mission. They left the steering to the dummy called the pilot, and they had their jokes too.

Backseat F-4 pilots held a unique position. Most were lieutenants just out of pilot training who’d been promised a quick upgrade to the front seat. But about the time I came along, the promise of an upgrade to front seat after six months became a joke. In most cases it didn’t happen, and then by the time it did, an extra two-year commitment (beyond the basic five years) came with it.

Because backseaters often flew the aircraft (I flew most of the formation flying during my flights), we were afforded fighter-pilot status, but among F-4 front-seat pilots we were merely GIBs—the guy in back. The back-seater’s standing joke was, “Remember that GIB spelled backwards is BIG.”

Backseat was a worthwhile position for a young fighter pilot. I navigated, controlled the radar, and was able to learn from the front-seater. Though I normally flew with the same front-seater, I occasionally flew with someone new, giving me the opportunity to observe a range of flying styles and talents.

At one time or another, most of us had occasion to take an F-4 up for a test flight.

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