Posted on 10/30/2003 6:45:39 AM PST by BenLurkin
EDWARDS AFB - The weather was pristine; the pilot, one of the best; and the crew exuded confidence that I, Heather Lake, was going to have a great time. I got to fly Friday with a member of the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds.
Within minutes of meeting the team's crew members, I was sent to put on an olive green flight suit and a very cool pair of lace-up black boots.
Tech Sgt. Ron Ruzek, who has been with the Thunderbirds for six months, proceeded to explain to me what it was I would be experiencing in the F-16C, what I would be wearing and how I should help my body adjust to what it was about to encounter.
Over the flight suit went a G-suit, which is a little cumbersome if you are a person who likes to stand up straight. But as they promised me, once you are reclined in the aircraft, it's no problem.
It's what the suit does in flight that is incredible.
When the pilot begins to "pull G's," gravitational forces do really weird things to your body. Negative G's send the blood rushing to your head. Positive G's send the blood rushing to your feet. From the sheer force of gravity, the suit inflates and deflates in accordance, squeezing your body from the waist down to stop all the blood from going to your head or your feet.
Though the body can compensate for a few degrees by exercising the anti-G straining technique of flexing and squeezing the muscles in the lower torso, with more than three or four G's, your body needs help.
That's where the suit comes in.
I won't lie. Around five G's the pressure from the suit hurt my abdomen. At nine G's (actually 9.2, but who's bragging?) I am certain a little more blood slipped by than should have because I felt my eyes roll back. But I have never fainted in my life, and I wasn't about to start now.
Hence the pre-flight instruction that included learning to help out the G-suit by flexing and tightening all my lower-torso muscles.
Next, I was fitted with a torso harness.
"This is what's actually going to hold you in the seat," Ruzek said. Sounded good to me.
Then came the sobering part of what had thus far been a really exciting pre-flight experience.
If by chance I heard the pilot say, "bail out, bail out, bail out," or "eject, eject, eject," I could rest assured he wouldn't be kidding, Ruzek told me.
The back and the front of the two-seater are equipped, unmistakably, with bright yellow ejection levers right between your legs. You can bump it, kick it, even sit on it, but if you pull on it with 40 to 60 pounds of force, off comes the canopy and "you are going for the second ride of your life."
Meet Capt. Dann Carlson, my pilot.
He inferred that under normal emergency circumstances he would be doing the pulling, but if, say, I saw smoke in the cockpit or if we were hurling to the ground and he was unresponsive, "By all means (I should) pull it."
At that point the canopy would fly off and we would be ejected in our seats, parachutes built in, from the aircraft so fast there would be no time to worry about what was happening. I think I would have found a split second, however, to panic. I organize my time well.
But I was assured that Carlson, 35, was the best of the best. A 1989 graduate of the US. Air Force Academy, he has been flying since before he was old enough to drive.
"We have nothing to worry about," he said. And I believed him.
Then I met her, sleekly dressed in white with red and blue stripes - "The little sports car of fighters," as Carlson put it. The modified F-16 is equipped with avionics and abilities to surpass all other aircraft. This versatile flying machine is the only one that can pull nine G's.
Most used because of its advanced capabilities, Carlson called the F-16 the "bread and butter of the Air Force."
He had demonstrated with a model all the maneuvers we would be completing that day, provided I could hold up. They looked impossible.
"If you feel sick, it's normal," Ruzek said.
Normal? Maybe. Pleasant? Hardly.
In my head I remember thinking; "Maneuvers?" Call them what they are - stunts - and only daredevils pull stunts.
That said, I must admit I am prone to a little adrenaline-fueled frenzy, but I was in it till the end.
To say experiencing nine G's was nice would be flat out wrong, though I appreciate the awe it generates from a technical perspective.
But we seemed to sail through Cuban 8s and half-loops, a little maneuver in which the craft stops suddenly at each point on the compass during a full-circle spin, was not as smooth - but it went off without a hitch.
The aircraft flies upside down and sideways, and if I didn't know better, I'd say inside out. During the air show, all this, and much more, is done in formation with other F-16Cs only feet away.
All this is amazing to see and the opportunity to experience a private sampling Friday was a once-in-a-lifetime experience I will never forget.
But technicalities aside, hear this.
There's an undeniable and overwhelming camaraderie on a military base, an unsurpassed solidarity that can be both encompassing and divisive.
I met several unique individuals from the Thunderbirds crew on Friday. From photographer Staff Sgt. Chris Gish, who seemed to take a morbid but humorous delight in filling me in more graphically on how my body could respond, to the flight surgeon, Capt. David Steinhiser, who checked me out to make sure I was in good enough shape to fly, each member of the nearly 140-person team has a job equally important to the overall success of the team. They are the ultimate in team players.
As I reclined in the aircraft, surrounded by controls and levers and blinking screens, the anxiety that had built up to that moment dissipated.
At the risk of going surreal on you readers, flying in that thing was what I would imagine an out-of-body experience is like. I felt as if I were floating. Whether I was upside down, sideways or spinning in a circle, up there it all made sense and the earth and the sky were simply irrelevant perspectives, neither more logical than the other.
I remembered Ruzek saying earlier not to "disconnect" from the craft, to "visualize" the maneuvers as they were demonstrated. That was good advice.
I had no true concept of speed, no sense of imminent danger and I felt, well, serene in my own virtual reality.
As Carlson commented on the quality of the take-off, which races straight out and then practically straight up, and the relative success of certain maneuvers, I found myself telling him the truth.
"I don't have anything to compare it to," I said. He understood.
Most likely, I never will experience anything that comes close to that flight. But I will always have those 35 minutes when it was just me, Carlson and a pesky little moth who stowed away on the aircraft.
And there's more.
What I also have is a renewed admiration and respect for the men and women who protect our country and do it with such meticulous diligence and unwavering pride.
Since returning to the Antelope Valley a year ago, I find myself looking, sometimes craning, skyward in the morning to see various aircraft. I regard them in awe and, adrenaline junkie that I am, with envy, and sometimes feel a little twinge of something that never made sense before.
Now it does.
I wasn't afraid anymore because I felt completely sure it was Carlson and not the craft who would be calling the shots with the best military technology in the world to back him up.
I confirmed something about myself, too. There is a reason I fall asleep when someone is driving me over winding roads; apparently I am prone to motion sickness when I am not the one behind the wheel.
Despite the excitement of the adventure, when Carlson said, "Are you ready to go back?" I couldn't bring myself to say "No."
"You're the driver," I said. "I'm the driver," he retorted. And back we went.
Would I do it again? You bet.
After all, how many people can actually say they have flown with the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds and experienced nine G's while flying over the desert landscape, or maybe over the sky?
Regardless of how a person feels about the military, to deny that they are the bravest, most talented this country has to offer would be unjust.
As exciting as it was to be given that opportunity Friday - to see my name printed on the side of an F-16C, to see for myself how targets are tracked from thousands of miles above, to participate in maneuvers to which no roller coaster ride could ever compare and to be the envy of so many- there was something bigger.
I learned the pilots aren't reckless daredevils after all. Far from it.
As I drove home afterward, I was in a state of physical, emotional and mental shock, wondering how to begin describing what I had experienced and worrying that I had missed something.
But when I woke up the next morning it was crystal clear.
I remembered seeing a woman and child wave to us as we taxied by for take-off, and seeing the other officers standing formidably at attention when we came safely back. I hadn't missed anything.
More than a thrill-it was a honor.
And I came away with something I didn't expect to feel.
On Friday, I, Heather Lake, got to fly with a hero.
"-BIRD THRILLS - Valley Press reporter Heather Lake climbs into one of the planes Friday for a pre-show spin as Sgt. Chris Gish takes her photograph. The Thunderbirds know how to treat a guest - Lake's name is printed on the canopy next to her." GENE BRECKNER/Valley Press
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.