Hitching a Ride With a Blue Angel : Childhood Dream Soars Into Reality

The crew chief snapped the last of 11 straps and assured me that the wide belt across my lap would hold me in place when the F/A-18B flew upside down.

“Now, remember what I told you,” said Marine Sgt. Don Reid in his reassuring manner. “Grunt when you make the heavy-G turns. You’ll enjoy the ride better if you don’t pass out in every turn.”

Ever since I was 7 years old, I had dreamed of riding in a jet fighter plane.

I had my chance Wednesday to fly with the Blue Angels, but as the moment arrived, my 46 years of experience were telling me that this might be a mistake.

As the clear glass canopy locked down I stared at the strange instruments and the three small video screens in front of me. I exchanged final glances with the people outside as we taxied away.

We briefly sat at the end of the runway at El Toro Marine Corps Air Station, and I savored the moment. Then it was too late.

Blue Angel Seven was cleared for takeoff.

I knew the moment I asked Blue Angels aviator Lt. Matt Seamon how fast the aircraft accelerated during takeoffs that I had made my first mistake of the day.

“I’ve never timed it,” he answered, “but we’ll find out. I’ll start with the afterburners and see what it can do.”

Acceleration Beyond Wildest Dreams

The supersonic F/A-18B lurched forward, firmly planting my body to the back of the narrow seat. The acceleration was greater than my wildest dreams. Seamon reported that we hit 100 m.p.h. in just 5 seconds. The sensation was overpowering, a numbing, pleasant pressure on my chest that locked me into the machine.

At 300 m.p.h. and still just a few feet above the runway, we abruptly started our climb. The jet went from horizontal to what seemed to be vertical and climbed to 12,000 feet in seconds.

I missed part of it. As we started our ascent, the maneuver produced a G force 5.5 times greater than that of the earth’s gravity. The blood rushed from my brain to my feet. I lost my vision. The next thing I remembered was looking straight up at my feet as we broke through the clouds like a runaway missile.

I hadn’t followed Sgt. Reid’s advise.

The trick, he had said, to remaining conscious and enjoying the ride is to push as hard as you can on your stomach while tensing your upper body muscles. This somewhat unusual exercise slows the movement of blood from your head to your feet during high-speed turns and maneuvers. It is not uncommon to temporarily lose your sight or consciousness during heavy G-force turns. Sometimes your sight leaves you, but you can still hear what’s going on. Other times, if the force is severe enough, you black out.

Fearful that I would embarrass myself, I tried to concentrate on something pleasant.

‘Flight of the Intruder’

Of all the possibilities screaming through my mind, I came up with a passage from the book “Flight of the Intruder” by Stephen Coonts. The main character, Jake Grafton, was flying a Navy A-6 attack jet during the Vietnam War and had the ship’s doctor, Mad Jack, alone for a ride. A mock dogfight started between Grafton and his roommate, who was flying along in another A-6.

A crucial paragraph kept flashing through my mind:

The doctor rode in silence, enduring a ride worse than that of any roller coaster. This was a job for a younger man with a cast-iron stomach. Mad Jack managed to remove his oxygen mask, but the little bag he had thoughtfully placed in the lower leg pocket of his G-suit was beyond reach. He ripped off his left glove and vomited into it.

That’s enough of that, I thought. Stop it.

I had spent the better part of a week convincing myself that I would not do that. But I had this feeling that the aviator sitting just a few feet ahead of me and controlling one of the most technologically advanced and hottest fighter/attack jets anywhere could probably make me do whatever he wanted. With a flick of his wrist, he could make the blood drain from my head and pour into my feet. He could flatten my brain to sides of my skull. He could temporarily rearrange my innards.

Headed Toward Islands

We leveled off and headed west toward San Clemente Island. It was a sunny day with some scattered high clouds. From the cockpit there was almost a 180-degree view through the canopy. Santa Catalina Island was off to the right. A stream of big ships headed for Long Beach.

“What do you think?” Seamon asked through the intercom that connected the aviator with his apprehensive passenger.

Even though we had leveled off and were flying smoother than airliners, I was still jarred by the violent change of directions that got us from sea level to 12,000 feet. Seamon said we had ascended at about a 45-degree angle, but it felt as if we had gone straight up.

As we flew out over the ocean, Seamon--who has been flying since his high school days and is one of the most experienced F/A-18B aviators in the Navy--explained the various numbers, diagrams and maps that continually popped up on the three small display screens in front of me.

The F/A-18B, nicknamed the Hornet, is a high-performance tactical aircraft designed to be both a fighter and an attack jet. It will eventually replace the A-7 Corsair and the F-4 Phantom in the Navy and Marine fleets. The Hornet’s combination of high power and light weight give this highly sophisticated aircraft its maneuverability, rate of climb and acceleration. It stands 15 feet high and 56 feet long, with a wingspan of 37 feet. It can go 1,360 m.p.h., with a ceiling of 50,000 feet.

Replaces Navy’s Skyhawks

The Blue Angels began using the Hornet in their demonstrations in 1987, replacing the A-4F Skyhawks. They will be flying over Orange County this weekend when the Navy precision flying team performs in the air show at the El Toro base. Seamon, who is the “7th man” in the Angels unit, will be narrating from the ground.

“Do you know what a diamond roll is?” Seamon asked. The Hornet slowly turned 360 degrees. The sky and the ocean became indistinguishable.

Seamon described several maneuvers that the Blue Angels do while flying inverted. Here it goes, I thought, he’s going to ask whether I want to fly upside down.

“You want to fly inverted?” he asked. “It’s just like when you hung upside down from the jungle gym when you were little.”

I tried to sound confident. “Sure. Let’s do it.” I grabbed the two handles on each side of the canopy and waited.

“Now we bring the nose up a little, and now we roll her over,” Seamon said calmly.

Like Being Suspended

I closed my eyes tightly, thinking that it would all go away. But we stayed upside down. I opened my eyes slowly when I realized I was not going to drop out of the plane. The world looked much different from this vantage point. It felt like being suspended from the ceiling. I didn’t hate it, but I was looking forward to getting right-side up.

We did some turns and rolls and got close to 700 m.p.h. I took Sgt. Reid’s advice on grunting when Seamon took the plane from 500 feet straight up to 18,000 feet.

This time, I didn’t pass out. I was gaining confidence. I started to lean with the turns and stopped anticipating the next movement of the aircraft. I had more than 30 minutes under my belt, and I was feeling my oats. But it was all about to end.

“We have two choices going in,” Seamon said. “We can go straight in or we can do a carrier-type landing where we fly over the field and cut away and land. This one involves some Gs.”

Traditional Landing Ordered

I chose the carrier landing, but the air traffic controller nixed it: Low clouds over the air station necessitated a traditional landing.

The runway at El Toro grew larger and larger as we approached straight in. The landing was fast: A quick jolt and a screech of tires signaled our return to earth.

Sgt. Reid unhooked the harnesses and straps. I wobbled as I felt my way down the narrow ladder. My shirt was wet with perspiration. But I was exhilarated, like leaving a fast roller-coaster ride.

When I got back to the newsroom, some of my cohorts wanted to know how it went.

Piece of cake, I replied.

WEEKEND AIR SHOW

The Navy’s free air show in El Toro is on Saturday and Sunday. Page 2