Training the Best

A Top Fuel driver, Eddie Hill, once said after completing a sub five second 300+mph quarter mile pass "Man, if people only knew how much fun this was, they'd sell their houses and buy themselves one of these cars." I know what he was talking about. Earlier this afternoon, as I broke through the cloud layer at 5,000' and was greeted by a beautiful blue sky I thought, "This makes it all worth it."

I had just taken off from NAS Corpus Christi under a pretty nasty layer of clouds after a less than stellar brief and was not feeling particularly good about myself. I thought I was prepared for the brief but there were several things that my IP asked that caught me off guard. It hadn't started well because the duty last night told me that my brief time was 1100, but as I was driving to the base at 1005 I got a call from my IP asking where I was. I was a little shocked to say the least. He wasn't mad, but it put my routine all out of whack and got me started on the flight off balance.

But man, once I was at the controls and flying across the water at 170 knots and 500' it was all better. I felt confident and in control of the plane. I knew where to go and knew how I was going to get there. We reached our first checkpoint and I picked the nose up to start my climb to 2,500' and she responded like it was no big deal at all to add on 2,000' of elevation. If you wanted to do that in a Cessna, you'd apply full power, calculate the density altitude, calculate your best climb velocity and break out the bag lunch because it's going to take a while. Not so in my new ride.

I was still not really enjoying myself, the weather was crappy and the skies were gray. I knew there was blue sky above us, but if we didn't find a hole in the clouds we couldn't get up there to see it. My instructor did some fancy flying to get us around a few cloud formations and finally we found our hole. Full power and on up to 7,500'.

Even 5,000' of altitude didn't take that long. Before I knew it we were cruising along in the blue with a pillowy white layer of clouds beneath us. I completely forgot how crappy the brief was and how crappy the weather down below was. I thought to myself "I don't think it would matter if the instructor was yelling and throwing things at me right now, I would still be loving this."

We did a couple of maneuvers that all went well and even further bolstered my confidence. I remember doing 45 degree angle of bank turns in the Cessna and feeling like the plane was going to fall out of the sky, like that was too much for the little plane to handle. The T-34 wants to climb; it had no trouble handling the 45 degree angle of bank turns.

After that fun, we headed back down out of the clouds and on to Aransas County Airport, one of the outlying airfields we use to practice touch and go landings. It's a civilian run field, but the majority of the traffic is Navy T-34s. Unfortunately today there was a Cessna in the pattern who jacked things up for us big time.

He didn't start off well, he wasn't making many of the customary radio calls you make when doing touch and goes at a field that is so popular with training aircraft. When I first saw him he was less than half a mile off our port side (left) heading right at us 200' below our altitude. If he had been on the same altitude we would have collided.

The Navy break and landing pattern is much tighter than the civilian landing pattern. Civilians fly a big box, with gentle 15 degree angle of bank turns and a wide pattern that takes a loooooong time to complete. You could make a sandwich and eat it in the time it takes to fly a civilian touch and go. We fly a tight oval with 30 and 45 degree angle of bank turns. You'd barely be done deciding what kind of bread you wanted in the time it takes to fly a Navy break and landing. Combined with the fact that he flies his pattern at 80 knots and touches down at 70 and we fly ours at 100 and touch down at 85, he was a pain in our ass. Several times we had to extend our legs and go wide to maintain separation from him. At one point we had to offset our take off because he was lifting off so slowly that we were concerned that we might hit him. It wasn't easy for me especially because on top of all of the things I had going on in the cockpit I had to keep a constant lookout for his slow ass so I didn't lose sight and have him reappear just before we made his tail a few feet shorter with our propeller.

But I got some good landings in and flew the landing back at home almost 100% by myself, so I was satisfied. I even remembered the shades this time.

I lifted this from a friend's blog because she quite succinctly sums up what I think most of us are afraid of. She is a Second Lieutenant just starting Primary at Whiting Field in Pensacola, so she's about a month behind me. We became friends during IFS which she did just after me.

I am excited at the prospect of learning my trade while at the same time wrought with angst at the very thought of screwing it up. I know that I will mess up on flights and will undoubtedly perform maneuvers in a manner which my instructor will cause my instructor to question my parentage. This is not what I fear. What enervates me is the thought that this is my one shot at achieving my dream. However, I know me. I've managed to accomplish everything to which I've ever set my mind and full extent of determination. I'm not going to break that record anytime soon.

- 2nd Lt Eileen Donovan


One of my instructors said once that as student naval aviators we are so alike in how we think that it is scary. We were chosen because of the way we think; the Navy saw to it through testing and the selection process that they selected people who think the way we do so that we have the intelligence, determination, and ability to complete the hardest school the military has to offer.

Okay, we did not fly this morning due to low ceilings and the threat of thunderstorm activity in the area so I got to go back to sleep and I'm now taking a study break. The studying never ends, even if you've got the next flight down cold, you need to be studying two or three flights ahead so that you are not scrambling the night before.

I was, of course, nervous as hell yesterday morning. Not nervous about the flight, my instructor had told me he would do most of the flying, I was nervous about the brief. Before every flight we brief the flight. You sit in a room no bigger than a medium sized closet with a table and two chairs and discuss the flight you are about to take. Mostly it is the instructor's chance to grill you and find out if you really know what you are doing. You will talk about every maneuver you will do on the flight, every emergency procedure that you will practice, actual emergencies, procedures, and any "discuss items" that are listed for that flight.

The reason for the nerves in the brief is that if you are jacked up in the brief and the IP doesn't think you are ready to go fly, you get a ready room "down", which is very bad. A ready room down is an express ticket to see the CO to explain why you are not prepared for your flight and why you are wasting everyone's time because you are too lazy to study. Bad news.

As it turns out, I was fully prepared for the brief, at least as much information as my IP wanted, and it went fine. The first brief was really basic anyway, kind of an introductory brief. I've learned about myself that I constantly worry that I am not prepared enough. I hate the feeling of not being prepared, like forgetting something you needed, or not knowing something you are supposed to know. It works for me sometimes because it makes me over prepare, but it's not good for my sleeping schedule. You get some really whacked out dreams when you are worried about something the next day.

After the brief I headed out to my plane. The IP had to go get his flight gear, so I walked out alone. It is pretty damn cool walking across the flight line with your gear on, helmet bag in hand. Not quite as cool as they portray it in Top Gun, but close.

Preflight went well until we got to the engine bay. There was about two tablespoons of oil in the bottom of the engine compartment. I initially glossed over it, I guess that comes from years of driving cars that leaked oil like it was cool, but my IP didn't like it. We called maintenance over and, as my IP predicted, they wiped it up with a rag, checked a drain hose, and said "We'll check it when you get back." He predicted what they'd say word for word, it was pretty funny. There was oil on the bottom of the plane too, from what had leaked out of the engine compartment, which I pointed out to my IP. He took a look at it and said "It's not really dripping; it's mostly dried; that's what we have PELs for!"

A PEL is a precautionary emergency landing, which is what we would have been doing if the engine had crapped out in flight. For the most part we would have been alright; we had altitude and speed in our favor. If worse comes to worse, we would have just climbed to 1,200' and bailed out. It sounds like a long way, but 1,200' is not a whole lot of time to bail out of a stricken plane.

So preflight done, we climbed in and strapped in. I've never said that I was huge, or had a particularly large chest, but whoever designed that parachute definitely did not have me in mind. You have to fasten it over your CMU, and that was an ordeal. It took about a minute of fighting to get that damn chest strap clipped in. Then I had to fasten the restraint harness over that. After I got all this fastened on I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to fly the plane. I felt like I was back in TBS wearing a flak jacket; unable to move normally, with my functional reach reduced to what was directly in front of me. Forget reaching the fuse panel on the right bulkhead and slightly aft of my right shoulder; I was doing well just to see the damn thing. Fortunately, after just one flight, I was able to move around a lot better.

The checklists went well but the predicted brain fade set in as soon as the engine started. I didn't screw up too bad, just went a little more slowly than I had wanted and got lost once or twice. Many people have said that your IQ drops twenty points when that engine starts and they are true. There is so much fear of doing something catastrophically wrong and not only damaging equipment but also possibly killing someone that you second guess yourself constantly. If you don't know your procedures cold you will hesitate on steps in which there is no time to hesitate and then things just start to snowball. You screw one thing up, which puts another thing out of sequence, which further distracts you, and next thing you know the IP has to take the controls because you are about to do something stupid.

I tried to taxi the plane out, but I went back to my Cessna days. The Cessna 172 has nose wheel steering, which means that when you press the rudder pedal to the right, the nose wheel turns right. So I taxied out with my right leg fully extended and the damn plane still wanted to turn left. I couldn't figure it out. It wasn't until later that I asked my instructor and he told me that the T-34 doesn't have nose wheel steering; you have to steer on the ground by tapping the left and right brakes. I felt kinda sheepish on that one; I should know that, I just hadn't put two and two together. It worked fine for the rest of the taxiing, because I was using the brakes and once you build up a little bit of ground speed the rudder will steer a bit. My taxi out was a little ugly, but I was starting to get the hang of it.

Time for takeoff. The T-34 is no rocket ship; it only has 550 horsepower, of which we are limited to use 425 of unless it is an emergency. But this thing is almost five times as powerful as the Cessnas I flew before and it showed on takeoff. It really sets you back in the seat when you give it full power. I'd compare it to riding in a muscle car with the throttle pegged, you have to fight to keep your head forward and you can feel it press you back into the seat. In no time we were airborne and climbing out.

The weather wasn't great, the clouds were "observed" at 4,600', but on our climb to 2,500' we had to avoid a few of them hanging out low. For most of the flight I could not see the horizon, so I wasn't allowed to do much flying. For the most part we flew around while he showed me the training areas and corresponding checkpoints on the ground. He did have some fun with me too, snatching on some Gs with little warning. "So Greer, what altitude are we supposed to be at over that bridge?" "1500 feet sir" "Ok, Gs coming on now, now, now" He said that last part so fast that by the time I figured out what he said he had already yanked the stick back and we were in a 2.5G climb up to 1100' It took us about two seconds to gain that 600' before he relaxed the stick pressure and made an easy climb up to 1500. He jokingly added that he just wanted to check the Marine's G tolerance. Fine, bring it on. I can't wait for Precision Aerobatics, where we get to pull 4.5 Gs while doing loops and split s maneuvers.

The landing break is one of the coolest things we get to do as Naval Aviators. To approach a landing field, you fly over it at 1000' until the end of the runway then you flop into a 45 degree angle of bank turn and head back the way you came. The maneuver is based in carrier aviation, so that you can over fly the carrier and get a look at the deck before coming back around to land. Also, that steep turn allows you to bleed off speed quickly so that you can fly up to the carrier quickly and then just as quickly get down to landing speed. Of course the break involves some Gs, which makes it so cool. My instructor did a short break, which only IPs are allowed to do, and really put on some Gs I'm guessing we did around 3 Gs.

I'm starting to ramble and I've gotta get back to the studying so I'll summarize. It was exciting as hell, but I know that I have a lot of stuff to learn. Everything happens very fast and you not only have to fly the plane, you have to make radio calls and do checklists while you are doing so. A lot of new student pilots get sick on their first couple of flights, and with no visible horizon, I was set up to puke all over the place but I held it down. I did get kind of queasy a few times but it passed. I'm excited to get to the point where I can fly this plane as well as my instructor can.

Walking away from the plane felt a little more like a Top Gun moment. I was kinda sweaty from the ride and was feeling a lot better about my proficiency in the airplane so I had a bit more of a strut. I forgot to put on my issued Tom Cruise shades though. I'll have to remember those next time.

Well this morning I got my first flight in the T-34C Turbo Mentor. It was very exciting, mixed with some nausea (no puking though!) and a lot of confusion. I'd love to tell you guys all about it, but I've got three hours to study before I hit the rack for a 0610 brief for tomorrow's flight.

It most likely won't happen, the weather is looking pretty bad tomorrow, but I don't want to be unprepared if there's any chance we might fly. I'll just have to update everybody tomorrow.

Finally, after less waiting than I had expected but more than I had wanted, I met my on-wing and did Fam 0. It's official designator is C1001, but we still call it by it's old designator which is short for Familiarization Flight 0. It's 0 because it's not actually a flight and it starts off the Familiarization phase of Primary. With the change to the new multi-service program a few year ago, the Fam block became the Contact block; contact with what I have no idea. Hopefully not the ground!

In Primary Flight Training, your on-wing is your primary instructor pilot. Out of the first twelve flights before you solo in the T-34, you will fly eight of them with your on-wing. He will be the one who shapes you as a pilot and has the greatest effect on your training here.

My on-wing is Lt. Gilkison. He's a Navy P-3 pilot (large 4 engine transport plane) and he's getting out of the Navy in July. He won't be around for me to finish Primary, but by the time he gets out I'll be onto the stages in which I am flying with a different instructor every flight. I'm his 11th on-wing (we're called on-wings for them, they are on-wings for us) and possibly his last. He is a really laid back, cool guy, and is reputed to be genersous with the grades. Things look good.

Fam 0 is basicaly a chance to meet your instructor and get acquainted with the routine of briefing, getting a plane, getting your flight gear, preflighting the plane, and strapping in. It was 50 degrees and drizzling on Thursday so we didn't go out to a plane but we did get to do a pre-flight.

A lot of what he told me was stuff that I had been told by three people already (gotta love the redundancy of the military) but some was new. Some of it was technique or personal preferences for the way he wants me to do things, some of it was just his little bits of wisdom on that particular aspect of the flight.

When Lt. Gilkison had originally called me he had said that we might not get to do a pre-flight and we might just do a briefing and talk about the maneuvers. That kinda pissed me off. I had the pre-flight down, I was counting on that as my chance to impress and show him that I knew what the hell I was doing. I did not yet have the maneuvers memorized and wasn't sure how well that would go.

The briefing went well, he didn't ask me any tough qeustions at all and we headed out to the hangar. Maintenance designates a plane every day for students to practice pre-flight inspections on; most of the time it is out on the flight line, but this day it was parked in the hangar, my lucky day.

Fam 0 preflight consists of the student walking the student walking the instructor through a pre-flight inspection and then instructor peppering him or her with questions about just about everythingon the plane. "What are you looking for on that flap?" "What vents are leakage allowed from?" "What is the battery rated at?" The engine bay is the most intense, there are more than fifty components in there that you have to be able to identify, know the purpose of, and know the operating ranges of. I think I did pretty good, I identified everything he pointed out and at one point he said "Damn boy, you know your shit." I did forget the amp-hour rating (2400 amp hours) on the battery, but that was the only screw up.

So Fam 0 is over and it's on to Fam 1, my first flight in a Navy plane on Monday. The instructor will do most of the flying, but I will do the taxiing and a little flying. Then on Fam 2 I'll do the takeoff and departure, and Fam 3 is landings. Things move very quickly here; twelve flights and you are ready for solo flight.

When I first arrived here, one of the things on my list to do was stop by the local bike shop and get the scoop on road biking groups, routes, and mountain biking trails. I had been dissapointed with the trails in Pensacola, but I was hoping that there would be a good mountain biking trail hiding somewhere here in Corpus Christi.

I wasn't pleased by what I heard.
"Mountain biking? No, there's no trails anywhere around here. I heard about one up near
Austin."

I hoped that maybe he just didn't know what he was talking about, but a check of the internet gave me pretty much the same results. There were a few trails listed in San Antonio, but the reviews didn't excite me and I've learned that unless the review is absolutely gushing, I am going to be dissapointed. Maybe it's because I started riding on one of the top 20 trails in the country and have ridden one of the top 10 (both in North Carolina.) Maybe it's because the people who wrote these reviews don't really know what a good trail should be like (a "big climb" in Pensacola almost inspired fits of laughter when I finally saw it in person). Whatever the case, unless I see some awesome reviews I'm not driving the two hours to San Antonio to ride it.

The Rocky Hill Ranch in Smithville, Texas got some pretty good reviews so I decided to make the three and a half hour drive to check it out. I wanted to go ride it two weeks ago, but just didn't muster up the energy to make it happen. This weekend Aaron wanted to go too so there was no backing out this time.

Aaron Bomar is a Navy lieutenant (0-3) who did some time in the Army as an infantry officer before deciding that he wanted to give Naval Aviation a try. He's a pretty cool guy and we have a lot of the same interests so we hang out quite a bit. He's also a Duke fan but I don't hold that against him.

We started out at 0600 on Saturday for the trail. The trip didn't start well; about thirty miles into the drive Aaron realized that he forgot his helmet. I didn't want to turn around, it would mean losing an hour and a half of driving time and I hate backtracking. Thankfully, before I could find an exit to turn around he decided that he would just buy a new helmet at a sports store along the way. Phew.

Then, about an hour and a half into the drive the skies started to darken. I realized that I hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast for Smithville. Crap. As we got closer it only got worse; a drop here and there developed into a slight mist and by the time we got to the trail it was fully raining. I was highly pissed because in North Carolina this kind of rain meant the trail would be closed and I was pretty sure that would be the case on this day.

When we walked into the trailhead/bike repair shack the guy not only told us that the trail was open, but he would waive the $8 fee on that day because the weather was crappy. He explained that once you got through the first mile the soil was on high ground and was a sandy/rocky mix that would not form mud like most soil. They gave us directions to ride the trail a little backwards at the start to avoid the muddy parts and even loaned Aaron a helmet. Things were looking up.

We unloaded the bikes in a light rain and I wasn't really feeling good about the ride. Riding in the mud always sucks. Even if you can keep your tires, drivetrain, and brakes clear, the trail is very slippery and slow. We also got the directions wrong and started off in the direction of the worst mud. Within a half mile both of our bikes were so bogged down in mud that we couldn't even move. Two or three times we repeated the cycle of riding until we couldn't ride anymore, getting off, clearing the mud as best we could, and trying again. I was furious.

Aaron and I reached a water/map stop on the trail and determined a different way back to the car which might have less mud. We did encounter less mud and when we got to the car, Aaron suggested that we had ridden in the wrong way the first time and maybe we should give the trail another try.

Our second try worked out a lot better. The trail was still wet and the mud that was already in the drivetrain made it shift like crap, but I was mountain biking and I was happy. We rode the majority of the trail until our legs just couldn't take anymore and I felt pretty good about that. None of the trail was spectacular, there were some interesting parts with come cool drops, some fast sections, and more than a few tight pinches. There were more than a few places in which I wasn't sure that my handlebars would fit. That can be a little scary when you're moving along at speed.

All in all, I would rate the trail a 7 on a 10 point scale. Not as good as Catawba Riverfront trail and certainly not anywhere near Tsali, but worth an hour drive I guess. Not three, so I probably won't be going back, but I'm glad I went.

After the ride we stopped in Lockhart to eat at a pretty cool barbeque restaraunt called Smitty's that Aaron had eaten at before and was crazy about. It is one of three in the town that have all been operating since 1900.

You walk into the front door and directly into the smokehouse, which I thought was pretty cool. You walk up to a counter in front of the barbecue pit and order by the pound what you want; pork ribs, fat brisket, pork chops, many more choices than I can remember. The cook slices off a couple hunks, places them on brown wax paper and you continue on into the restaraunt. The whole thing has a rustic feel to it without trying. It's as if they decided a long time ago that this was the simplest way to do things and there's no sense in dressing it up.

Once inside you pick up your drinks, cole slaw, avacados, whatever you desire and continue to long wooden tables. Unfold your papers and chow down. Very simple, but very good food. The ribs were great and the brisket even better. If it wasn't three hours away I'd definitely go
back.

I think the theme of this post is that there are some great things in Texas, but they are too damn far apart! Makes me miss the east coast, where everything you want is within a couple minutes.

The trailhead shack at Rocky Hill Ranch. There's a bike repair shop in there, loaner helmets, maybe some dead animal skulls, who knows what they've got in there. The whole trail was decorated with broken bikes, rims, tubes, and tires, usually after or before particulary difficult sections. 

The mess that was my bike after riding. It was much worse, at one point there was so much mud caked on my front tire that it locked the tire up on a descent.  

I got a comment from Bela about the changes to the blog and thought I'd take this chance to clarify something that may not be immediately apparent.

Yeah, I did change the template and the color scheme, but that's not what I'm talking about. I just got a wild hair and decided that I wanted some change in the old blog.

You may have noticed the new headline "Training the Best." Every place I've been, I changed the headline to suit the training environment. First it was Trees, Bugs, and Snow for The Basic School. Then it was Sun, Clouds, and Av Gas (aviation gasoline) for IFS. The Cradle of Naval Aviation is the nickname for Pensacola, Florida because that is where naval aviation was started.

I struggled a bit for one for NAS Corpus Christi. There really is nothing special about it. They only started training naval aviators here in 1942 so there isn't really much history. Locals only know of Corpus Christi as the place college kids go to get hammered on the beach during spring break. I tried to think of something witty with "Don't mess with Texas" but didn't manage anythying.

Training the Best is the motto of Training Wing 4, the Navy command in chage of all the squadrons here. I could have gone with "The Foundation Builders", the motto of VT-28, but that is even more lame. I guess I'll just have to hope for something more inspiring when I get to my next squadron.

So now, after cramming for a week of CPTs and rushing to get up to speed on all my procedures/checklists/emergency procedures, I have about a week to wait until I start flying. As much as I complain that I need a break when I'm balls to the wall all the time, breaks are bad for training. You get lazy, you forget stuff. I'm doing my best to remain focused and disciplined, but it's difficult when there isn't a looming deadline. I've learned that about myself, I perform best when the pressure is on.

So now I wait and study. I've got phone watch tomorrow night and likely another practice CPT on Thursday. Man, this week is flying by.

This is the high speed new oxygen mask that I get to wear. The helmet in the center is the same model that I wear (The HGU-68/P). The one on the right is mounted with night vision goggles (I won't get those for some time), and the one on the left is just for a different angle. The 23 is much more comfortable and less fatiguing to breathe through than the older 17 model which they are slowly phasing out.

The CMU-33 AIRSAVE survival vest and integrated lifting (rescue) harness. This is the newer of the vests we wear while flying the T-34. At first I thought I lucked out in getting one of the new ones. After trying to squeeze into the cockpit this morning and put parachute and seat harness straps over it, I'm not so sure.

It seems that every military school I have gone to has been preceded by rumors of how unbelievably hard it is going to be, mostly from people who have never been to the school or people who like to dramatize everything.

I was told that the three week ground school before you start flying in Primary was twice as hard as API, with three times the information and half the time to learn it. Yeah, it was a lot of information, but it was well taught and not that hard to learn. I got a 100% on the systems test and 98% on weather.

CPTs followed. Cockpit Procedure Trainers are events designed to test our knowledge of checklists and emergency procedures. The simulator building contains seven simulators which are fully functioning T-34 cockpits which are connected to computers so that your inputs cause the instruments to react as they would in the airplane. There are no screens to simulate the outside world so they are not used for visual flight training, but we will come back to these simulators to learn instrument flight.

The simulators are run by employees of Lockheed Martin who are 90% retired military pilots. Most of them are in their 60s and above and are really nice guys. They've all got good stories and if you are nice to them, they will be nice to you. All except the Four Horseman, but more on that later.

Actually, most of the employees here are civilians. There is no reason for the Navy to train enlisted men to maintain planes which are non deployable when it's much cheaper to hire a civilian contractor to do the job. There are no Navy enlisted personnel in my squadron, all the admin stuff and maintenance is taken care of by civilians. Corpus Christi Army Depot is here too, which is the depot level maintenance facility for Army and some Marine Corps and Navy helicopters. The most shot up and most damaged helos come here to be rebuilt. Combine that with the Customs Agency border patrol aircraft squadron and I'll bet that civilians outnumber military personnel on this base.

CPTs were reputed to be exercises in frustration, with the instructors constantly nitpicking your every word and aggressively correcting the smallest mistake. In reality, if you are prepared and know your shit they are not bad at all.

All events in Primary are graded on a five point scale. One means the maneuver was only demonstrated. Two means the student was unable to perform the event at all (completely forgot the procedure or lost control of the aircraft when attempting to do a maneuver in the plane.) Three means that the student was able to do the event with some minor mistakes. Four means the student performed the maneuver/procedure with confidence and proficiency. Five means that the student was just amazingly impressive; he or she couldn't have done it any better. Throughout my five CPTs I scored 85% 4s, a couple threes, and the rest fives. Not really a big deal.

I mentioned the Four Horsemen. I know the names of two of them: Jeter and Payne. I had Jeter for a CPT5 practice that the squadron scheduled for us because we didn't have anything else to do and they had already booked the time. Jeter was definitely critical, and if I had shaky confidence he might have broken me, but I know how to handle criticism.

The problem with Jeter is that he expects you to know your shit forwards and backwards without fault and when you don't, he really comes down on you. I understand that, Naval Aviation is not the place to be imprecise and unknowledgeable, but we are just learning and it's a bit unrealistic for him to expect me to know every nut and bolt of the plane when I just started learning about it. I got all fours from him, so I'm pretty proud of that.

So ground school is over, I'm now waiting for my first flight, and my blog is caught up, Whoo!

Well I'm finally part of a squadron, the VT-28 Rangers. V is a Navy and Marine Corps designator for a fixed wing squadron (H is for helicopters) and T is for training. There are two T-34C squadrons here, the Rangers and the VT-27 Boomers. VT-28 is reputed to be the more laid back of the two squadrons; we don't stand watch 24 hours a day, we don't have to put on our service charlie uniforms for watch (we wear flight suits), and things are apparently more relaxed. I kinda chuckled to myself when a Navy guy told me that 27 was "hardcore", I mean how hardcore is any Navy run squadron going to be?

I did find out that I am restricted from flying the EA-6B Prowler due to my sitting height; I don't fit safely in that aircraft's ejection seat. In our Aviation Training Jacket there is a NACES (Naval AirCrew Ejection Seat) report which lists the aircraft we can not fly. The Prowler is not really a sought after aircraft and their aren't many spots out there anyway. Unfortunately, for much the same reason my old roommate and friend Leah is most likely going to be an ECMO in the Prowler. She is a small statured woman and many of her classmates are bigger men. They can not fit in the Prowler, so they have to get Hornets. There are only two options for NFOs so she will likely fill one of the seats in the Prowler.

Squadron check in was long and boring, as most are. One brief after another and more information than we wanted to or were able to take on board. There comes a time when your brain just can't effectively take in any more information and any more talking just sounds like the teacher in Peanuts.

After finishing the first two weeks of ground school, we did paraloft check-in. The paraloft is the section responsible for maintaining all of the flight crew's equipment from the parachute all the way down to what kind of boots we are wearing. In a combat unit this would be staffed by Navy and Marine Corps enlisted personnel, but here it is staffed by Lockheed-Martin employees. They took the lot numbers of all my issued equipment; my boots, my gloves, flight suits, jackets, kneeboard, etc., apparently to let me know if any of it shows up on a recall. I can just imagine that call "Umm, Lieutenant Greer we need you to bring in your flight suits for exchange, apparently they aren't as flame retardant as we first thought." Government contractors, gotta love them.

A few of us were fitted for the new CMU-33 AIRSAVE vest. The Navy is phasing out the old SV-2 vest and rolling this one in. It is much more adjustable and versatile than the older system because you can move the pockets around to wherever it is most comfortable. Helo crews apparently love them, and I can see why they would in those aircraft, but they aren't very convenient in the T-34. We have to wear this vest, then on top of that we wear a parachute, and on top of that we wear a seat harness. It's a lot of stuff to arrange and it will likely take some time to get used to.

The first guy who tried to fit me was a little suspect. First of all, he wanted me to tighten down my leg straps until they were about to cut off circulation. If I ever get lifted by this harness, sure, I'll tighten the leg straps down, but I am not flying around every day with no feeling in my legs. So after asking him about it, he acquiesced and said that I could loosen them. The same thing happened with the chest strap. What we were fitting for is velcro tabs that they sew onto the straps to hold the excess strap in place. When I check out my gear, I will just step into the leg straps, I won't adjust them every time. The chest strap has to be tightened every time, but there still needs to be a velcro tab to hold the excess. After going through this I was a little concerned about getting my oxygen mask and helmet fitted.

Fitting for an oxygen mask and helmet was a pain in the ass. As you may be aware I am blessed with a large romanesque nose. While this may be good for attracting the ladies ;)- it's not so good for fitting oxygen masks. I have always had troubles with any kind of masks. The M42 gas mask, the one the US military uses, really cut into the bridge of my nose. So I wasn't suprised when the standard oxygen mask, the MBU-17 (the style in Top Gun) didn't fit. They messed with different sizes, moving the mounting points around, noting worked. They debated amongst themselves many different ways of adjusting the straps and moving the mounting points before finally admitting to themselves what I had already told them, it just wasn't going to work.

So they fitted me for an MBU-23. The 23 is almost exactly the same mask as the Combat Edge mask (MBU-24), part of a system which involves an air bladder around the pilot's chest, a bladder in the helmet, and a positive pressure breathing system designed to help the pilot stay conscious longer with less strain in high g maneuvers. It's the future of tactical aviation. The MBU-23 sounds a little different when you exhale and is easier to breathe through as well. The best part is that it's made with a softer rubber and fits me much better. They tentatively agreed that I should go with the 23, but said that I should come back a little later when Mike came in. Apparently he was the duty expert on the subject matter.

Mike is indeed the duty expert. I've always said that no matter what job I am doing, whether it is working hardware at Home Depot or flying an airplane, I want to be the best at it and know as much as is possible about it. Mike is the same kind of guy. He was previously a parachute rigger in the Navy and is very knowledgeable and professional. Within ten minutes he had my mask situation figured out and adjusted the mounts on my helmet to get everything matching up perfectly. Made me a little peeved that the other yahoos didn't know what the hell they were doing, but I was happy that I was now in the hands of somebody who knew what he was doing.

Just this week (a week after my initial paraloft check-in), Mike did my second fitting on my CMU. He went right to work, just about having to rebuild my CMU because someone else had jacked it all up. But in the end, everything fit right and felt good. I'm gonna have to take this guy with me to my next unit.

So, with checkin complete, flight gear issued and adjusted, I am getting close to my first flight. Don't expect pictures, there is a very strict Navy rule against us taking pictures in the cockpit while flying. I'll just have to wait until they give me my own plane to sneak some pics in ;)

So we decided to spend the night in Houston; there was no rush to get to Corpus and I didn't want to drive for twelve hours straight. I figured the truck would appreciate the break and so would I.

We stayed there on a Monday night, and everyone we asked said we were SOL for finding a party that night. The bellhops at the hotel, the bartender at the restaurant we went to, everybody. I know it was a Monday night, but in a city as big as Houston you should be able to find something! My first experience with Texas was kinda disappointing.

So the next morning we set out for Corpus. More flat land. As I approached Corpus, it became clear that I was heading to a far outpost of civilization. There really is nothing within 3 hours of Corpus Christi. The open plains are pretty in the early morning, and I can enjoy it for a short time, but I don't see myself missing this place when I'm gone.

Check in to our apartment was uneventful, the place is pretty nice and our apartment is big. Unfortunately, a lot of my bedroom is taken up with a huge bathroom and closet; clearly designed for a woman. I have this huge garden tub and all kinds of space to walk around in my closet. The closet space is appreciated, but I'd gladly trade that tub for a shower stall, a toilet, and a small sink in order to get some room space back.

Check in to NAS Corpus Christi wasn't too bad, but it was the same hassle that checking into any new command is. You drive all over the base, getting signatures and stamps on your check in sheet from fifteen to twenty different agencies, many of whom aren't in their offices when you get there or don't know exactly what you need. That's an entertaining moment.

You - "Hi, I'm checking in."
Dumfounded Civilian Behind Desk - "Ok, what can I do for you?"
You - "Well I'm checking into this command and I am supposed to check in with you"
DCBD - "Umm, ok"
You - "Could you just sign this sheet?"

So that's what you do, walk around and collect signatures for no apparent reason other than to say you did. You check in with admin, get your travel claim done, they take thirty bucks from you for a patch which you will wear on your flight suit for two days, a coin, and a t-shirt which you will never wear and comes only in extra large. I've always wondered why the hell anyone ordering t-shirts for marines would order extra large. If you require an extra large t-shirt you probably shouldn't be in the Marine Corps. But I digress.

We didn't really get anytime to breathe when we got here. I waited sixteen weeks in Pensacola to start API; I got six days here in Corpus, which wasn't even really six days. We had to attend in-briefs on Tuesday and Wednesday, got Thursday off, and checked into my training squadron on Friday.

Most of the in briefs were the standard, boring fare, but there was one exciting one. A police officer from the Corpus Christi Police Department came to brief us on the laws unique to our new duty station. Most pertained to the beach, which you can drive on, build bonfires on, drink on, shit I don't think there's anything you can't do on this beach.

The most entertaining part of the brief pertained to a city called Laredo and its sister city across the border, Nuevo Laredo. Apparently there is a big drug war going on in this little border city between warring cartels and the local authorities. A new sheriff was elected on a platform that he was going to crack down on this crime and run the drugs out. He was assassinated two hours after being sworn in.

As you might expect, this city is off limits for all DoD personnel stationed in Corpus Christi. I have to say, before this brief I hadn't even thought about visiting that city, but now I want to go just to see what all the fuss is about. I still most likely won't, but I think their brief had the opposite of their desired effect.

I woke up early to head out for Corpus Christi. My new roommate and API classmate, Richard Carmean, was meeting me at Waffle House for breakfast at 0900.

As a military member I have the option of having the military pay for movers to come and get my stuff or moving it myself and getting paid to do so. Since I didn’t have much furniture I decided to rent a U-Haul trailer and move it myself. In true U-Haul fashion, they rented me a piece of crap. I tried to inspect the lights when I signed for it, but the fuse in my light hook up was blown so I had to take it without testing. Of course, they were all jacked up. It took about thirty minutes of diagnosis with a voltmeter/ohmmeter and trail and error to get those damn lights working. After all that work, all I had was parking lights on both sides and a brake/turn light on the left side. No light at all on the right. By the time I figured this out it was too late to take the trailer back, I had to be out of the old apartment that night and the U-Haul place was closed already. Lesson learned, be prepared to inspect anything you rent.

On top of this hassle, this was going to be the first time I had ever towed a trailer. It seemed easy when dad did it, but I knew there were differences and dangers with towing. I thought the trailer would be light, but it turns out I have more stuff than I thought I did. Empty truck weight was 4,190lbs. Weight with trailer fully loaded was 6,790lbs. That might explain the 10.8 miles per gallon. Carmean got a chuckle every time I had to pull over for gas. His Mustang, even though it was a 4.6 liter V8, was sipping gas at about 29 miles per gallon. I still contend that he owes me a few bucks for the draft I created.

So on a sunny Monday morning we caravanned through Florida, then Alabama, then Mississippi, and Louisiana. Alabama looks pretty much like Gastonia (from the highway anyway), but once we got into Mississippi things got weird. It’s hard to explain, but there are just visual cues that let you know you’re a long way from civilization as you’ve previously known it.

Louisiana was interesting too; we were traveling on I-10, in the southern most part of the state and going through a lot of swamp land. At one point west of Baton Rouge, we were on a part of the highway that was elevated about twenty feet above the water level for miles and miles. On both sides were trees, but it was nothing but swamp land. I really would like to go back and see it in the spring, I’m sure it’s beautiful. There was a sign just before the Texas border for an alligator farm. If I wasn’t on a timeline and not hauling all my worldly possessions with me I might have stopped.

Funny thing, traveling with all your stuff, it makes you single minded; you just want to get there. There’s a lot more security when your stuff is in an apartment or house. It may or may not be any safer, but it makes you feel better.

Texas is flat. That is the best way I can explain it. JT once remarked how the east coast felt claustrophobic at times since she had been in Texas. I now know what she meant by that. You can see to the horizon in both directions almost all the way from the border to Houston. You know that mirage effect that they dramatize in the movies when they are set in the desert? When the objects on the horizon look like they are floating a few feet above the horizon? I’ve now seen that without the help of a telephoto lens.

The frustrating thing about that flatness is the wind; especially here on the coast. The wind is ridiculous. It is almost constant and it is intense. Probably two days out of the week the wind is so bad that you have to walk with your head down to avoid losing your cover (hat for you civilian types.) Maybe it’s just because it’s March, but even for March this is intense.

Well that catches me up to our overnight stop in Houston. I’m tired and have another long day tomorrow so I’ll update later.

Ok, I know it's been a while since I updated. When I finished API, I didn't have much to write about. Then I got to Corpus Christi and had too much to do. Unlike my arrival in Pensacola, I have not had the huge vacation to settle in and sample the local culture. I checked into Training Wing 4 on the 10th of February and started Primary on the 17th. Apparently all that waiting at Pensacola was so that there would be no more waiting for me the rest of flight school. I'll believe it when I'm done, but so far they weren't kidding; there was no wait at all.

I spent Super Bowl weekend in Pensacola hanging out with my former roomies Leah and Jen. Well mostly Leah, Jen hasn't really been one to hang out with us that much, she hangs out with Pete all the time. Oh well, her loss.

Leah and I decided to go for one last bike ride on the Sunday before I left. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, it was about 70 degrees, and a light breeze was blowing. Even better, Leah's new place is right outside the front gate of NAS Pensacola so our ride was 80% on base. Being a Sunday this meant very little traffic and no crazy drivers.

I figured that it wasn't worth the trouble to dig out my spare tube, patch kit and pump. I hadn't had a flat on the road bike yet and hadn't had one on the mountain bike in years so I decided to risk it. Of course, I got a flat. It was exactly halfway into our 20 mile ride. I'm not kidding; we had just reached the back gate and were turning around when it went flat. Well I didn't have a spare and it would take Leah forever to get all the way back to the house and get my truck so I decided to ride it back. Ten miles on a flat tube isn't fun. We went from our 18-20mph pace down to a 7mph pace. Do the math; it took a long time to get home. I was pissed, but what can you do but laugh about it? I'm never leaving home without a tube and inflator again.

So after watching the Super Bowl (who won? Ahh hell, who cares) and spending one last night on Leah's couch I headed out for Corpus Christi.

API Class 0610. Every class has to take a class picture for posting in the halls of the API building. Most are lame posed shots by the F/A-18 in front of the building. We took this just before jumping into 42 degree water for the helo hoist. I'm in the second row on the far right. Carmean, my roommate is behind me. Mario Singletary, (yes, he's related to that Singletary) also in my Primary class, is to his right.