P Qual

Author: Clod Sullivan

After a C-130 thing in SEA, Tweets at Vance and Mather, I found myself at the USAF Survival School. I was supposed to feel blessed as the new Wing Commander, Colonel Buck Allshouse, a B-17 ball turret gunner in WW II who worked his way up through the ranks, said he’d make sure we (He "hired" 3 captains) got good assignments when we PCS’d. After three years of eating park benches, assorted droppings from unknown beasts in the woods, and sleeping in things similar to garbage bags complete with sand fleas, ticks, and vegetative nuances I was ready to escape. Some guy from MPC calls me up one day and asks me what I want to go fly. I ask him what is on the table. He says, “your records have been flagged and you can have anything you want, anywhere you want to go!” No shit? Yup. So, I told the gentleman that I want to fly the A-10 and go to Woodbridge/Bentwaters in the UK. A week or so later I get a stack of orders to Bentwaters in the A-10! But first I need to go to fighter lead in training at Holloman AFB, NM flying the AT-38. I show up on the appointed day and after meeting my desk mates and IP I find that I was supposed to be there a couple of weeks earlier to get Pilot Qualified (P Qual) in the jet as I had not flown for three years and my last flight in the T-38 was in October of ’69 - this is March of 80. The IP goes in the back room comes out and says, no problem. We have an open jet this afternoon, let’s go fly. Out we go, preflight, run a checklist or two, sorta remember a couple of things here and there, we get it started, taxi out, and once cleared for takeoff I find that my brain is somewhere back on the ramp. Damn, did this thing really go this fast? What do you mean I was late retracting the gear – I was still trying to remember how to steer it onto the runway. About four or five minutes later I finally catch up. Stalls and falls, a little acro and we head back to the pattern. Get in five or six full patterns, a couple of closed patterns and we are out of gas. Next morning, we pretty much repeated the same scenario. That afternoon the Flight Commander tells me that I am going solo and that if get back I’m pilot qualified in the T-38. I didn’t bother to ask what would happen if I came home via rescue helicopter…. Gotta love the white rocket!