Carrier Pilots

By Chucky
1989
A recent invitation to fly the S-3 simulator at NAS North Island provided a long awaited opportunity to answer a number of questions that had formulated since flying as an S-2 Aircrewman for three years culminating in l966 and the subsequent ten years experience as a crop-duster and twin engine charter pilot.

Having experienced over 100 cat shots and carrier landings as an Navy aircrewman, but from the back seat, I had no idea really what challenges were involved in landing an aircraft aboard a carrier. As my experience as a charter pilot expanded I began to regret never having had the opportunity to land aboard a carrier as a pilot, and still, even though I had accumulated nearly 4000 hours of flying time, had not the slightest idea of a typical approach or the physical and technical loads required for such an operation.

After discharge from the Navy I hung around San Diego long enough to graduate from State, get married, divorced and generally make a mess of my life before deciding to start over by leaving town. Eventually I found flying and then dropped back into maintenance, but that's another tale. Beech Aircraft assigned me to their site at North Island, and thats where I was when I met an S-3 pilot who was leaving the Navy and got temporarily assigned to our unit as a KingAir jock. We began swapping flying stories and when he invited me to a session in the S-3 Viking simulator I jumped at it.

The S-3 simulator at North Island, is an exact copy of the cockpit of the aircraft and it is mounted on a three axis, full motion platform. It was so realistic that, after the first few minutes I felt that I was flying the real thing. Not surprisingly it was light years ahead of the old S-2 sim I had flown in as a Radar/Sonar operator at the exact location 20 years before. We began by my getting acquainted with the instrument layout, and the picture out of the window. The computer is programed with a variety of local IFR approaches in addition to presenting a believable local area night VFR picture through the cockpit glass. After doing a few touch and goes at North Island and taking the scenic tour, which included flying under the Coronado Bay Bridge my lieutenant friend hit a button and lined the aircraft up on final approach of a carrier deck. The S-3 aircraft is equipped with auto-throttles. In the auto-throttle mode airspeed is controlled with power and altitude with pitch. I began the first approach in this mode toward the deck by watching the angle of attack doughnut and keeping eyes out the cockpit. On the first approach the deck began rising so fast that I experienced a ground rush and eased back on the stick. Zoom! Right by. He set me up for another approach. Ready for the effects of ground rush and determined not to let it cheat me out of a deck landing I approached, and at his signal, hit a button on the stick to deploy the spoilers. Still too late. Hit the deck, but didn't catch a wire. The aircraft became airborne again. I half expected it to dribble off the end of the deck, but it didn't, thanks to the auto-throttles I suppose. It certainly wasn't the result of an action on my part. He didn't hit a button to line me up again and instructed me to actually fly the aircraft around for the third approach. After some solid IFR the deck lights became visible once again in the distance.

According to my Navy Pilot tutor, the approach profile for ultimate touchdown on an aircraft carrier is identical for every type of Navy aircraft.
Initially the approach is started at 5 nm, checklist complete. Descent is begun from 1200 feet at three miles at a rate of between 400 to 500 fpm. Approach airspeed for the S-3 is around 120 kts.

The aircraft on final is flown using an angle of attack indicator, positioned on the cockpit combing and backed up with a gauge on the instrument panel. The correct AOA is about 15 degrees, which is indicated by a white arc on the panel instrument and a doughnut shaped light with red and green arrows on the combing; a red light indicating nose low and the green denoting nose high. Additionally there is a ball stationed on the stern of the carrier's port side. (the meatball) The meatball should be held in the center, indicating that the aircraft is on the center of the glide path. In the old days this job was handled by a brave fellow called the Landing Signal Officer. The LSOs job was to guide the aircraft on to the carriers deck, or to signal a wave off if it appeared that the chances of a successful landing were becoming remote. I remember a net slightly outboard he could jump into in case the approach got over interesting in a hurry.

During instrument conditions the aircraft can be landed by an extremely accurate system called a CLS or Carrier Landing System. Much like an ILS--two radio beams transmitted from the carrier are translated into cross hairs on the pilots attitude indicator.

There is no landing flair. The aircraft is flown at flying speed right on to the deck. In case of a bolt (missed wire) the aircraft already has takeoff airspeed. Thus precluding end of deck dribbling off of.

The ride answered quite a few of my questions that I had nostalgically pondered from time to time through the years. I became acquainted with the flight parameters of the aircraft, but more importantly I learned a bit about the stress that a carrier plot is required to endure. My ride in the simulator was under ideal conditions. No cross winds, no weather, and no fatigue due to the vagaries of a possibly difficult mission. I made the deck and caught a wire on the third try, albeit with a lot of coaching from my tutor, and felt very proud of that, but came to realize why carrier piloting is a young man's game. My eyes really gave out after the third approach. The strain was too much after two hours of night flying for the precision required for carrier deck landings. I can imagine how it could have been trying to land under difficult weather conditions after a real mission.
I suppose that answers another question that I have had for a number of years: Why the top brass fliers let the young guys have all the fun? Maybe it is because that by age 40 plus, not only have they usually been promoted to additional decision-making responsibilities, but the simple fact is that, except for the occasional flight to keep their finger in, they probably have physically fallen below what is required to do this type of flying on a regular basis. Unlike airline flying, where a senior captain at age 60 is able to function effectively, a carrier pilot has physical and emotional stress handling demands that are simply not needed in the cockpit of a 747. That is my opinion anyway. Additionally, I wonder if complacency doesn't become an inhibiting factor after thousands of hours of successful operations. It pays to be just a little scared. A little anxiety is a good thing in flying. It keeps the senses at attention and concentration sharp. Young pilots have sharp edges; at least the one's that remain alive do.

I spoke to a Navy fighter pilot recently who quit flying because of his complacency. It had almost killed him on a practice bombing mission. He realized the problem and corrected it by grounding himself. He had too much experience. It had actually become too routine for him. Good pilot, and a live one. He had recognized his limitations and took corrective action. During British ATP training at London Polytechnical Institute in England some years prior I had the opportunity to speak at length with a British fighter pilot. He made the point that a fighter pilot, carrier or otherwise, begins to lose his effectiveness after about age 25; by that time he has typically married and begun a family and questions start materializing in his mind as he is hugging the terrain, screaming toward the horizon with a load of ordinance at 750 knots--questions without solutions, such as "What are my wife and kids going to do if I'm killed"? So he eases back on the stick and gives himself another 10 feet and he eases back on the power and initiates a gradual and inchoate deviation from killer to survivor. The result is a loss in combat effectiveness. To be sure, this is predictable and inevitably built into the military's computer model for combat pilots. It is certainly a young man's game. Young men with ample portions of brains and nerve, probably a little more of the latter than the former.