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Basic Training

n January 1956 the NavCad Choir was flown from Pensacola to Los Alamitos, California in a four engine R5D transport. This was my first trip with the choir. The itinerary included singing at Disneyland and

the Tennessee Ernie Ford TV show. Brand new Disneyland was enchanting and the TV show enlightening. Mr. Ford was a genuine gentleman, unlike many Hollywood-type phonies. As soon as the red light winked out on the front of the TV cameras, their animated faces became gloomy. Each cadet was given an autographed record of Mr. Ford’s hit song, Sixteen Tons, and his picture taken with the celebrity.

Sixteen Tons We returned to Pensacola on Sunday, 22 January, 1956, my 21st

birthday. Had I been in a British possession that day, I could have claimed

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dual citizenship. Since the British Empire was unraveling, there was little advantage to be gained.

Flight orders were signed on 18 February, transferring me to NAAS Whiting Field near Milton, Florida. Whiting had two airfields, North and South. The cadet barracks was a wooden building midway between. North Field was primary training field using old North American SNJ, WW II advanced trainers. I was looking forward to flying that big noisy machine!

Primary

SNJ ground school was completed and procedures memorized. The

engine failure mnemonic is still in my memory bank: Glide, Gas, Gear, Grass, Prop, Top, Trim, and Hymn. The procedure was: (1) establish the best engine out glide speed, (2) switch gas tanks, (3) extend the landing gear, (4) identify landing field, (5) set the prop in low pitch, (6) open canopy, (7) trim aircraft to fly desired glide speed, and (8) sing for help with a “May Day” call.

Winter weather created a training backlog. After breakfast we marched to the hangar and waited. We fueled airplanes when they returned, but most of the time just waited. Steel tables in one corner of the hangar were converted into checker boards with masking tape. Bottle caps were our checkers. This passed the time of day.

Once a week we were required to run around South Field, about four miles. I ordered a pair of dumbbells just to keep in shape. This lasted about five weeks. One afternoon I was walking from the hangar to the barracks. Just as I passed the chapel, who should step out but the clean liver hater? He called, “Hey, Downing, wait up.”

I said, “What’s up?” He replied, “I just did something I should have done a long time ago.” “What was that?” I replied. “I just went to confession.” I learned later that he had come from a

Catholic university up north. Sometimes the Lord lets you know He has used you as a witness in the “courtroom of life.” That was the last episode of the clean liver story.

The week before our instructors were assigned, plans were changed. Instead of the SNJ, we were to be trained in the new Beechcraft T-34B. Doyle Fife and I considered this a “revolting development.” Not only did it mean going through another ground school, the airplane was a joke. The engine was half as big as the SNJ, and adding insult to injury, it had two

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mufflers. The SNJ was more than twice as heavy and could go 25 miles an hour faster. The T-34 had tricycle landing gear which took the challenge out of taxiing. We should have been happy with a newer, better airplane, but we wanted the more demanding, noisier one. The ultimate indignity was wearing a green back-pack parachute that made you look like a two legged beetle. Our attitude made absolutely no difference… we learned to fly in the Beechcraft T34 Mentor.

Ensign Goetz was my instructor. Usually Ensigns are young commissioned officers, but Goetz had been one of those rare enlisted pilots. He had been a Chief Petty Officer, with many hours as a multi-engine driver. My first flight was an hour and half long on Monday, 26 March, 1956. After 23 hours of flight instruction, I soloed 52 days later. I will never forget the feeling of three dimensional freedom, taking off at Pace Field, a big mile square grass airdrome. The customary rite of passage was to cut off your black necktie. I was now authorized to wear a solo bar above my left breast pocket.

One of the program’s requirements was learning Morse code. Once a week, for choir practice, a bus took the NavCad Choir members into Pensacola. Spending this travel time spelling out the road signs in code actually worked.

The flight syllabus of simulated engine failure, slow flight, precision landings, acrobatics, wingovers, inmelmans loops, and half Cuban eights were introduced. This was all fun.

That summer a young lady from my Uncle Ed’s church drove from Uniontown, Pennsylvania to Pensacola with two girlfriends. Two cadets I’d met at the Officers Christian Union (OCU) and I spent a pleasant week-end with these young ladies. NavCad Choir trips slowed my progress through the program, so these two men moved to another base where they were involved in a multi-plane mid air collision. One of these guys died. Flying can be dangerous.

My last primary flight was on 9 July, 1956, and Ensign Goetz put me up for “student of the week.” My certificate stated: “In recognition of his outstanding performance of duty in flight, academic, and military areas of training as a Student Naval Aviation, Primary Stage, Basic Training, NAVCAD G. H. Downing having been selected from a group of 1,032 candidates, is hereby named Student of the Week for the week of 9 July, 1956.” God’s plan was definitely good.

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Basic Instruments

Corry Field, within a few miles of Mainside, Pensacola was the next base. Ground school on a new airplane was the first order of business. The Navy’s T-28 with 1,425 hp. was much more powerful than the Air Force version with only 800 horsepower. It was over six times more powerful than the T-34. This would to be a handful! I should have been pleased to have flown the T-34, since the T-28 was so much more ‘airplane.’

Before flying this new machine, the NacCad Choir was sent to Long Beach, California to perform at the Miss Universe Beauty Pageant. Friday afternoon, 20 July, 1956, we attended a rehearsal at the three million dollar Long Beach Municipal Auditorium. Later, with time to kill, I bought a ticket for a roller coaster ride. Before leaving the gate, the attendant suggested I take off my frame cap. Nonchalantly, I complied and enjoyed the ride. The only problem: my hat was squeezed so tightly it was never again quite right!

The choir sang that evening. The program introduced us with a half page ad stating:

This acappella group of… male voices will be featured on the stage at the

Miss Universe Beauty Pageant on Friday, July 20th. It is difficult to realize that most of these young men have had no professional vocal training. Singing is a voluntary, off-duty pastime and is not their primary goal. Each is mastering a much different job… each is a future flying officer of the United States Navy.

These cadets are a cross-section of American youth. They come to Pensacola, Florida from colleges and universities throughout the United States to participate in a seventy-thousand dollar aviation education. They leave Pensacola wearing Navy Wings of Gold, ready to take their places aboard the aircraft of our fleet.

Saturday evening we were scheduled to escort the contestants to the

Coronation Ball and banquet. NavCad Al Weslesky and I were strolling along the golden strand waiting for 7:30 P.M., the time of the banquet. Dressed in our white uniforms we neared one of those wedding chapels by the sea. A gentlemen approached us from the door, and asked a favor. A sailor, with a time constraint, was to be married that evening, and his wedding party was delayed. Would we witness the wedding and sign the

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license? Al, always ready for new adventure, agreed with me, and in we went. Al was the “bridesmaid” and I was the “best man.” The minister reached behind, and turned on a record player with the wedding march.

Shari Lewis – Miss Nebraska

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The service was read, we handed over the rings at the appropriate time, and the couple was married. Al and I signed as witnesses and were on our way again. Our good deed couldn’t have taken more than 15 or 20 minutes!

It is customary to dance at a ball, which had been verboten on the mission field. Al tried to show me a few steps, but I had to muddle through with what Fred Astaire instructors call “the penguin waddle.” Fortunately my date, Shari Lewis (Miss Nebraska,) was very gracious and understanding. Actually cadets were just uniformed stage props for a feminine spectacle. This was an exhilarating moment for this callow cadet from Kenya.

Flight training continued after returning to Corry Field. My first flight was 6 August, 1956. The most vulnerable part of any flight is on take-off. The aircraft is heavy, and must accelerate to take-off speed. When airborne, an immediate climb is required to clear the traffic pattern. In order to accomplish this maneuver, all 1,425 horse power was used. Unlike the T-34, the T-28 had no mufflers and the snarl of all that power was intimidating. Things happened much faster than any previous flight. In fact, the aircraft was 1,000 feet in the air, and my mind was still back on the runway. It didn’t take long to get used to that power. Ten days later, with 10 hours of experience, I soloed.

Basic instrument flights began two weeks later. This involved flying the aircraft from the back seat with a tent over your head. There were six basic instruments that had to be cross-checked systematically to control the aircraft three dimensionally. When things began to go wrong it was easy to “lock up” on one instrument and ignore the other five. The key was trimming the pressures off the controls with trim tabs, so you could supervise the flight rather than physically drive the airplane. The “yoke” pattern was an exercise that required frequent changes in heading, with constant rate turns and altitude changes at constant rates of climb and descent. It was very demanding, requiring memorizing power settings and keeping oriented in the pattern. One nice thing, the T-28: when trimmed properly, was very stable. The big bugaboo was vertigo, when your inner ear was telling you a different story than the instruments. You ignore your sensations and believe the instruments. Crossing the eyes and shaking the head occasionally helped.

Training was interrupted by another choir trip to Atlantic City on 5 September, 1956 for the Miss America Pageant. The brochure of this pageant read:

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The nationally famous Naval Aviation Cadet Choir from Pensacola, Florida… will appear nightly at the Miss America Pageant, and escort the Miss America contestants to the ball at The Claridge on Saturday night.

…the Miss America contestants, who will be escorted by these young men to the glamorous ball following the coronation of Miss America, will have to await that night before they are introduced to each other. The ball, as in the past five years, will be held in Trimble Hall of the Claridge Hotel.

Parenthetically, did you know that the Miss America contestants are not permitted to talk to any man – not even father, brother, or fiancé’ – from the time of their arrival Monday evening until the ball on Saturday night? The only exception is made when the Atlantic City hostess gives her permission and the conversation takes place in her presence.

At midnight on Saturday, these restrictions are lifted. Then Miss America of 1957, the four runners-up, and all the other lovely contestants spend a few happy, thrilling hours dancing in the arms of the afore mentioned singers, smartly groomed in their traditional formal whites. By the way, the young couples will be paired with height as a factor and geographical background as a consideration.

I was paired with Dorothy Moreau, Miss Canada. She was the oldest

contestant, a point she made at the banquet. She attended Carol University of Quebec – cours superieur in singing. The Miss America pageant was more than “cheesecake.” Character and real talent were also in the mix. Once again, this African rustic was out of his element.

Formation and Tactics

The basic instrument phase was completed by mid-September, and I

was transferred to Saufley Field for Formation and Tactics. Saufley, about eight miles north of Mainside, Pensacola, and about six

miles from Corry Field, was opened in August of 1940. Since that time Pensacola has been known as the “Cradle of Naval Aviation.” The emphasis at Saufley was formation flying in the T-28, which required a keen perception of relative motion. There were cues taught which could only be learned by seeing the real thing. Initially an instructor showed the student, who watched, and then was coached through his own attempts. Later on, the solo student was coached by the instructor from the lead aircraft. Soon this became second nature, since most tactics used two plane sections as the operating elements.

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Formation was the most interesting and satisfying phase. I thoroughly enjoyed flying close formation! Two sections made a division of four planes. In normal flight the flight leader’s wingman was on one wing, the section leader on the opposite wing, and the section leader’s wingman on the wing away from the formation. The flight leader positioned the flight with hand signals. On landing, the flight flew over the runway at 1,000 feet. When over the landing end, the leader broke away smartly from the echelon with a sharp turn, and began slowing to landing speed. The second, third, and fourth aircraft broke sequentially at pre-determined intervals. The goal was to have the same interval between each aircraft. This was really interesting and challenging.

Once, on a cross-country flight, my friend was flying the lead, and I was on his wing. He signaled a cross over into echelon. There wasn’t much room between the division leader and the section leader, so I stayed in close. As I passed behind and below, my big prop sucked his elevator down slightly and caused his nose to drop. The young instructor, a “plowback”353 from flight training, had never seen that before and was convinced I was going to clip a tail someday. I never did!

Al Weslesky was certain that I needed a girl friend. He had gone to a military academy in Pennsylvania and courted a girl for some time before becoming a NavCad. Though marriage was forbidden, Al figured the Navy had enough invested in him, that they would look the other way. So they had an open wedding in a Pensacola church and yes, he did get away with it. He was so satisfied that he thought I should have female companionship. He arranged a double date with a girl in his church; and the four of us drove to New Orleans. Being away from Pensacola, I bought a sport shirt to wear with my uniform trousers. We stopped at an amusement park and rode the roller coaster, because pilots like motion excitement. Al and his wife were in the seat ahead. Just as we topped the first elevation, my date turned and grabbed a mouthful of my new shirt. She clamped down on that shirt for the entire ride. Roller coasters were hard on my attire!

Two significant events occurred during my time at Saufley. The first happened at a movie at Mainside Pensacola. While eating popcorn, an incisor that had a root canal performed in Nairobi, broke off. My two front teeth were broken during a motor scooter mishap, so were unusable for a bridge. A Navy dentist pulled all four incisors to bridge between the

353 Plowback - A recently graduated pilot whose first duty is a flight instructor.

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canines. I looked like a hockey player and vividly remember my diet that day: strawberries and cottage cheese. I could sing, but didn’t do much smiling!

Navy dentists have the reputation of being the best trained dentists of any service. My gold bridge with porcelain steeles facings has lasted for 55 years. Dentists all over the world have admired this bridge.

The second event was a hurricane. The instructors flew the aircraft inland, and the cadets spent the day in the chow hall. The cadet barrack was a frame building and considered vulnerable. The chow hall, a one story masonry building, was our refuge in the time of storm.

Gunnery and Carrier Qualification

The T-28C, used for carrier qualification, was just being built in late

1947. So the old SNJ would to be my aircraft for that phase. Finally, I was going to fly that venerable old workhorse. My last flight at Saufley was on Thursday, 8 November, 1956. The next duty station was Barin Field, just across the border in Foley, Alabama.

A Mcllwain Church party was held at the pre-flight gym on a week-end. One of the church members, an instructor, made the arrangements. It was fun playing with the equipment without being graded. During the course of the evening, I was doing a full dismount from the high bar. Seated on the bar, you swing backwards with arms extended, when under the bar you straighten your legs, releasing the bar and land on your feet. I had done this many times. That night my sweat pants wrapped around the bar preventing leg release at the right time. I attempted to break my fall with my hands, and broke bones in both wrists. Suddenly flight training came to a screeching halt. I was grounded for two months!

It didn’t take long to decide why this happened. My bitterness about not flying the SNJ in primary was a mistake. The Father used this accident to correct my misconception about what was best for me. God is a Father who can be approached with any request. However, He is Sovereign. There are no buttons to push to manipulate Him. He filters everything that touches His children. Since He is a good and loving Father, everything we experience is for our good and He deserves our thanks. It was a tough lesson, but I haven’t repeated that mistake. “My son, do not think lightly of the Lord’s discipline, or be discouraged when He corrects you; for whom the Lord loves He disciplines; He chastises every son whom He acknowledges.” (Hebrews 12:5&6 - REB)

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On 8 February, 1957, I flew the SNJ for the first time. It was everything I had hoped. It had been three months since my last flight in the T-28. The most significant difference was conventional landing gear. The low tail wheel elevated the engine restricting forward visibility on the ground. S-turns, left and right, were required in order to see what was ahead. I flew 11 hours of dual training in four days, and soloed on the fifth.

Weather must have restricted flight training from February through March. Three gunnery flights were flown between 21 February and 9 April. Flight operations picked up the last half of April, and I finished Aerial Gunnery on the 25th.

Gunnery was really interesting. The instructor took off dragging a target sleeve on a long cable. A four plane flight of students then got airborne. One of the students flew escort on the target. The other three followed at a higher altitude. The whole flight proceeded out over the Gulf of Mexico. When well over the water, the chase student joined the other students in the perch position abeam354 and above the tow plane.

Reversal

When cleared by the instructor, the student would manually arm his

gun, which was mounted just below the canopy on the right side of the cockpit. This was a 30 caliber machine gun that had a timing mechanism, allowing it to fire through the prop arc. Occasionally the timing mechanism would malfunction, and a round would penetrate the prop. Mechanics smoothed the hole and sent it out again. These props made a distinctive whistling sound taxiing on the ground.

When cleared in “hot,” the first airplane on the perch rocked his wings, added full power, dropped his nose, and turned toward the tow plane, accelerating to firing speed. After turning 90 degrees towards the target, the turn was reversed and tracking began. A gun sight compensated for the required lead, and when in range, the trigger on the stick fired the gun. The pursuit arc required a “G” load355 to track the target. Now things were happening quickly. At just the right moment, the wings were leveled to fly over the target sleeve and an immediate turn to parallel the tow cable. When abeam the tow plane, the nose was raised to climb back up to the perch. This was really quite exciting!

354 Abeam - abreast of the tow plane on a parallel course. 355 G-Force - Pulling back on the stick.

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Multiple passes were made sequentially throughout the flight. When firing was complete, the instructor returned to the field, one student flying escort on the target. The cable was released parallel to the runway, and the whole flight landed. Ground personnel retrieved the target, and holes were counted. Each student had different colored paint on his bullets so scores could be kept. There weren’t many holes!

Gunnery was completed after 10 flights. The last phase of Basic Training was aircraft carrier qualification shortened to “carquals.” This began on 9 May, 1957, and six landings on the USS Antietam completed 19 days later. In that period, more than 80 Field Carrier Landings were made. The Navy was very particular about who was qualified to land on their ships. The precision required for carrier landings demanded concentrated, repetitive practice. A Field Carrier Landing (FCL) was much different than a normal approach. A normal landing began at 1,000 feet at the 180 degree position356 descending, and slowing to approach speed throughout the turn. The FCL began at 500 feet in the landing configuration, with approach speed at the 180 degree position. Approach speed was 60 knots and the airplane stalled at 58 knots. Ground thermals required constant power adjustment throughout a level turn.

With 45 degrees of turn to final, the Landing Signal Officer (LSO) could be seen. This was the man who controlled the landing with two fluorescent pink paddles. If the paddles were extended at shoulder height the plane was where it was supposed to be. If the paddles were low, the plane was low. High paddles meant the plane was high.

The Antietam was the first U.S. carrier with an angled deck. This was a British innovation that permitted simultaneous landings and take-offs. The landing deck was angled to the left of the ship’s axis.

On 17 May, 1957, flying my third FCL flight, as I was approaching the 45 degree position, the windshield was suddenly covered with oil. I could see the LSO out the side, since all carrier operations landed with open canopies. I was given appropriate signals, and continued. When the LSO gave me the “cut” signal, I was told to stay on the ground. After touch down, I was told my airplane was on fire! I stopped, set the parking brake, and went through the stopping litany: gas, battery, and switch-Off. I unlatched shoulder harness, seat belt, and stood up. The SNJ had a seat pack parachute which hit you behind the knees when walking. I slipped on the oil-covered wing, but was able to step off the trailing edge. Fire trucks

356 180 Degree Position - Heading down wind 180 degrees from the landing runway.

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surrounded the airplane, but the fire was extinguished when the engine shut down. An oil seal on the prop governor failed, but nobody seemed too excited. I rode back to the hangar in a ground vehicle, and since it was Friday afternoon, had the weekend off. There was no aircraft damage so no accident report was necessary. Monday FCL training continued as usual.

When a carrier is first sighted from the air, it appears much too small to land an airplane. Our flight of four was led by an instructor. At 500 feet we flew parallel to the ships course, just right of the island. After passing in front of the ship, the flight leader broke left and began slowing. At pre-determined internals the rest of the flight broke and ended in a straight line with proper spacing down wind.

The major difference from field landings was the ships movement. Consequently, to compensate, the 180 degree turn began abeam the bow of the ship. Things became more familiar from the 45 degree position when the LSO was sighted. At the proper cut point and with the signal from the LSO, power was cut and the nose dropped momentarily, then rotated up. The aircraft banged the deck, and I was suddenly restrained by seat belt and straps as I decelerated.

With relative movement stopped, a man in a yellow shirt rapidly signaled me to stay off brakes. As I was rolled back, wire was disengaged, brakes applied, and hook raised. I was vigorously directed across the foul line to clear the deck for the following aircraft. Another director had me hold brakes and power up my engine. When satisfied that I was ready for take-off, I was cleared and rolled toward the bow. The wind across the deck made a short take-off roll, and I was airborne for my second approach. After six traps, I was released back to Barin Field for my final basic landing, a qualified “hook” pilot!

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SNJ on Carrier