Back Home by Chris Hardie
Author’s note: One experience that I will never forget was when I flew with the Navy Blue Angels in 2000. The Blue Angels are in La Crosse for this year’s air show, so I am sharing a first-person story I wrote about my 2000 flight.
Yes, those intense G forces explain a lot of things….
Rule No. 1: Don’t touch anything
There are three rules when you fly in an F/A-l8 Hornet fighter jet.
■ No. 1: Don’t touch anything unless you’re told to – especially that yellow handle that says “eject.”
■ No. 2: Don’t bring anything into the cockpit – what isn’t strapped down will move freely around the cockpit, guaranteed.
■ No.3: You’ve got to have fun.
Such was the advice from Navy Blue Angels Crew Chief Roy Pierson during a briefing Wednesday at the La Crosse Municipal Airport. The Blue Angels are one of the highlights of this year’s Deke Slayton Airfest 2000.
A two-seater training version of the jet arrived In La Crosse Wednesday to generate interest in the show and to provide rides for some members or the media. I was among the chosen three. My turn came first.
“I’m going to talk about flight physiology, equipment and ejection,” Pierson said. I definitely experienced physiology and the equipment. Never got to that third point, I’m thankful to say.
The Blue Angels were organized in 1946, when Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Chester Nimitz ordered the formation of a flight demonstration team to showcase naval aviation. Since 1986, the Blue Angels have toured the country in the Boeing F/A-18 Hornet, which is powered by two 16,000-pound thrust engines and is capable of speeds surpassing 1,200 mph or Mach 1.7.
In technical terms, mach is a number that represents the ratio of the speed of an object to the speed of sound in the surrounding medium. In real terms, it represents sheer, unadulterated speed.
Mach I, or the speed of sound, at sea level is 760 mph. Pilot Lt. Scott Kartvedt approached 620 mph during my flight, stopping just short of breaking the sound barrier. It’s probably not good public relations to shatter Coulee Region windows with sonic booms.
The speed was fantastic. I wish I could say the same about the physiology. Despite taking a motion sickness pill, several times during the flight I availed myself of the opportunity to use what Pierson called “party bags,” which I held on to tightly. After all, I didn’t forget rule No. 2.
When you’re flying upside down and looking up at the beauty of the land, it’s easy to see why some call this God’s Country. And during this temporary state of euphoria, it’s also easy to forget that there are laws or physics that cannot be denied. Like gravitational forces called Gs.
Pierson aptly described Gs.
“Positive Gs is blood leaving your head. If you weigh 100 pounds, at 7 Gs it’s like a 700-pound man on top of your head.” At my weight of 160 pounds, 7 Gs equals 1,120 pounds.
Pierson said the key to surviving Gs is to take a deep breath, put your hands under your leg restraints and tense your muscles while saying “hook” with force.
“Even if you can’t see anything, don’t give up. Say ‘hook’ and release and you’ll come back and say ‘ I’m a G monster.’”
I’m probably more like a G wimp. I tensed and said “hook” about three times during a tight maneuver pilots do before they land on the aircraft carrier. I think I slipped into unconsciousness during the fourth attempt as we leveled off at 7.2 Gs, but came around after a second or two.
The “World Book” encyclopedia says pilots can lose consciousness starting at about 5 Gs and can survive a force of 9 Gs for only a few seconds.
I’m glad Kartvedt hasn’t read the World Book lately because he was just fine.
The highlight of the 40-minute flight was when I took over the controls of the $28 million machine. “That’s stripped down, without the guns and electronic stuff,” Pierson said.
“Hey Chris, you’re a natural,” Kartvedt said as we soared somewhere over Jackson County by my best guess. I didn’t tell Kartvedt that I once drove a ’74 Bonneville without power steering. Steering this finely tuned piece of aerial hardware was a piece of cake compared to that land task.
I even did one roll, dipping the stick sharply to the left and sending us tumbling in the wild blue yonder. “Hey, that one’s for your wife. Do you want to do two more for your kids?”
“No thanks,” I replied, feeling my stomach crawling up into my throat.
Sorry, kids.
But sick or not, it was the flight of a lifetime. And yes, I observed rule No. 3.
Chris Hardie spent more than 30 years as a reporter, editor and publisher. He was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and won dozens of state and national journalism awards. He is a former president of the Wisconsin Newspaper Association. Contact him at chardie1963@gmail.com.
