Riding the White Rocket; A Flight in the T-38A

Author: Buck Wyndham

The T-38 is one of those rare airplanes that, in my opinion, looks perfect from every angle. When I was

a child, I built a plastic model of it, and I spent many happy hours making it swoop, roll and dive its

way through my house. One of my dreams was to fly this beautiful airplane for real. Years later, I got

the chance to do so, first as a student pilot, and later in my career, as an Air Force Instructor Pilot for

two active-duty tours and two Reserve tours. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it wasn't a

dream. I'd like to share with you a detailed description of flying the "White Rocket."

Let's start with a walkaround inspection. Access to the T-38 cockpit is usually gained by use of a sturdy

ladder that hooks over the edge of the canopy. (There's also an internal step system, for use on crosscountry

missions, but using it requires some sense of balance and careful placement of your feet, lest

you fall off and bust your butt.) After climbing up and storing your in-flight publications and

instrument approach plates in the map case on the right cockpit sidewall, you hang your helmet on the

right canopy rail where it will be out of your way until you get strapped in. Still standing on the ladder,

you lean into the cockpit and turn on the battery, then check the fuel and oxygen quantity, landing gear

lights, and cockpit warning lights. You turn the battery switch off, then you check the aircraft's

maintenance forms to ensure the plane is ready to fly. Everything looks good, so you stow the forms

under the seat. Since you'll be doing a little bending and stooping during your preflight inspection, you

take off your parachute and lay it on the ramp to make sure you don't damage it or accidentally catch

the D-ring on something.

The walkaround begins at the left engine inlet and continues clockwise. You check the usual airplane

items, paying special attention to the condition of the honeycomb-composite flight control surfaces and

wingtips. These items can be easily damaged, and are often the first things that show cracks or buckling

from being over-stressed. Other areas of interest are the wing attach points and landing gear side-brace

trunnions, both of which are left unpainted so they can be inspected for cracks. At airshows and other

public showings of the airplane, many civilians notice that the tires look as though they're worn out and

frayed. This is because the tires are made of multiple layers containing white-colored cords, with the

final, inner layers containing red cords. After a couple of landings, multiple layers of white cords are

exposed. This is completely normal, and the tires may be safely used until the first red cords are

showing. Pilots leave the landing gear doors and speedbrakes open after each flight so the next pilot

can inspect the hydraulic actuators and other items in these areas.

As you walk around, you remove the landing gear safety pins and pitot tube cover, and store them in

the fueling access panel below the left engine inlet. You remove the Angle-of-Attack (AOA) vane

locking-device (about the size of your fist) and store it in the left-hand cockpit storage compartment.

Lastly, you make sure the grounding wire is unplugged from the nose and moved away from the

airplane.

Before you climb into the airplane, it's fun to walk to a spot in front of the nose and look at the overall

"Big Picture." You do this not only as a final check of the condition of the plane, but also because you

really enjoy looking at the sleek lines of the machine that is about to launch you into the blue. It's hard

to believe that the Talon was designed more than 60 years ago. Its tapered waist, razor-thin wings and

long, graceful fuselage are timeless design features, and it will always be a prototypical "fast jet" image

in the minds of many airplane lovers.

The excitement level begins to mount as you put on your parachute and climb the ladder. You step onto

the seat cushion, then you lower yourself into a sitting position in the small but comfortable cockpit.

The crew chief helps you strap in, connecting your G-suit while you thread the shoulder straps, crotch

strap, and parachute "key" onto the tongue of the right lap belt. The tongue is inserted into the

receptacle on the left lap belt until it clicks, then you tighten everything down. Your helmet goes on

next, then you connect your oxygen hose and communication cord. You and the airplane have become

one.

You adjust the rudder pedals, then turn on the battery and run through your cockpit instrument and

system checks. Since the plane is so simple, this only takes about one minute. Most of the switches are

already in the proper position; you're just verifying that they're correct. You turn on the radio and call

Clearance Delivery for your departure clearance, then monitor Ground Control for the engine start.

The T-38 has no self-start capability; it needs a supply of pressurized air to rotate the engines. This air

is supplied by a "huffer" unit, which is connected via a large hose to a manifold on the bottom of the

airplane, near the left engine. During start, the ground crewman must manually switch the air to the

other engine after the first one is started. You're ready to start, so you give the crew chief the "air"

signal by raising your arms over your head, making a fist with your left hand and slamming it into your

right palm. The air rushes into the right engine, and a rising whine begins as the RPM increases. At

14% RPM, you signal to the crew chief that you're ready to start. You reach down with your left hand

and press the right engine start button, then move the right throttle to idle. Light-off and spool-up are

quick, and the engine is stable at idle RPM less than eight seconds after ignition. The crew chief moves

the air diverter valve to the left engine, and you start it the same way. You check the caution-light panel

to make sure the engines and related systems are operating correctly, then the ground crewman

disconnects the air hose.

Next, you run through a series of flight control checks with the crew chief. He insures the control

surfaces move the way they're supposed to, the main landing gear doors have closed, the speedbrakes

close properly, and the horizontal stabilator moves to its proper takeoff setting. This completed, you

check the flight instruments, cockpit indicators, and navigation gear. The ground crewman removes the

wheel chocks on your signal, and it's time to taxi. Ground Control clears you for action.

The T-38's nosewheel steering system is activated by holding down a stiff pushbutton at the base of the

stick. As you add power to start rolling forward, you squeeze the button hard. Full pedal deflection

turns you smartly away from the parking spot, and you check the heading indicators to make sure

they're turning the correct direction. While taxiing out to the runway, you review the Takeoff and

Landing Data (TOLD), which you previously wrote on your knee-mounted data card before leaving the

squadron building. Specifically, you look at four numbers and commit them to memory:

1. The Minimum Acceleration Check Speed (the speed at which you should be traveling when you're a

certain distance down the runway, usually 2000 feet. This number validates all the other numbers, and

ensures you have a normally-performing airplane).

2. The Go/No-Go Speed (where you decide to continue the takeoff or abort).

3. The Refusal Speed (the highest speed you can attain and still theoretically stop in the remaining

runway length).

4. The Single-Engine Takeoff Speed (the minimum speed you need in order to take off after an engine

failure.)

The need to know these numbers for each takeoff comes from the military's many years of operational

experience with the Talon, and from the experiences of many pilots no longer with us—whose

ignorance of these numbers lead to their demise.

You're at the end of the runway, and Tower clears you for takeoff. You reach up with your left hand and

grab the edge of the canopy frame, lift it slightly, then pull it down as your right hand moves the right

sidewall-mounted locking lever forward. The canopy locks with a satisfying clunk, and the red

"Canopy" light on the instrument panel extinguishes. Almost immediately, you feel a slight "fullness"

in your ears as the cabin pressurization system goes to work. Taxiing into position on the runway, you

turn on the pitot heat and transponder, and check the heading system again. Now the fun begins.

You point the nose down the runway, letting the plane roll forward slightly until the nosewheel is

exactly straight. Now you stop and pump the brake pedals a few times before standing on them as hard

as you can. You push the throttles up to the Military Power setting and wait impatiently for the engine

instruments to stabilize. The brakes require a lot of effort to hold to hold the T-38 stationary at MIL

power, and after 5 seconds, your legs are already beginning to tire from the effort. A quick check of the

gauges, and it's time to blast off. You simultaneously release the brakes and shove the throttles past the

MIL power detent and into Afterburner. The plane jumps forward, somewhat slowly at first, then with a

sudden kick as the 'burners ignite. The initial acceleration in afterburner is about like that of a high

performance sports car, but once past 90 knots, the acceleration rate greatly increases. Like most jets,

"the faster it goes, the faster it goes faster." There is little or no engine noise in the cockpit. During the

takeoff roll, you note the passing of each of the critical performance numbers, each one a milestone

toward liftoff. At 135 knots, you begin applying back pressure to the stick, and at 160 knots, you lift

off. The acceleration continues.

Immediately after liftoff, you raise the gear and flaps to avoid over-speeding them. The cockpit air vent

spits small chunks of ice into your chest, but you ignore it. The acceleration continues. 240 knots

comes quickly, and you pull the engines out of afterburner, slowing the acceleration somewhat. You

keep the nose low, only 3 or 4 degrees up, until 300 knots, then raise the nose to 12 degrees nose-high

to keep the speed at the 300-knot legal maximum below 10,000 feet. (The T-38 has a waiver to the

usual 250-knot limit.) At this point, the altimeter begins a rapid upward climb. On cold days, using only

the normal non-afterburner climb schedule, you'll see a sustained climb rate of over 12,000 feet per

minute for the initial portion of the climb. A full-afterburner climb at 300 knots results in an initial

climb rate of 30,000 feet per minute. At that rate, the altimeter needle spins one full rotation every two

seconds. The controls are well-harmonized and glass-smooth, responding to the slightest movement in

a natural, pleasing way. Pitch forces are fairly heavy in the Talon, especially at higher G levels, but this

trait helps to prevent inexperienced student pilots from over-"G"ing the airplane any more than they

already try to do.

Leveling off at 16,000 feet in your designated practice area, you check the oxygen system,

pressurization, fuel quantity and balance, G-suit and altimeter. Everything looks good, so it's time to

have a little fun. You push the throttles to MIL and lower the nose to build airspeed. The wind noise

around the canopy increases steadily, as does the pitch sensitivity of the stick. At 10,000 feet and 500

knots indicated airspeed, you squeeze your leg and abdomen muscles, then smoothly bring the stick

back until the G-meter (or your backside) says "5." The stick force required to do this is approximately

30 pounds. The Gs press you into your seat and the blood tries to drain out of your brain. As the nose

slowly tracks up past the vertical position, the altimeter is spinning like a fan and the Gs begin to

subside as the airspeed decreases. You're over the top, inverted, at 20,000 feet, with an airspeed of 200

knots. You've just gained 10,000 feet in about 15 seconds. You pull the nose down to the 45-degree

nose-low point, unload to about zero G, roll rapidly upright, and pull up to level flight at 400 knots,

completing half of a "Cuban Eight."

How about an aileron roll? You raise the nose 5 degrees and move the stick to the side about 4 inches.

The world rotates smoothly around over your head and back below you again. Next, you do the same

thing again, only this time you move the stick hard against your leg, to its full deflection, causing your

head to snap violently the other direction as the roll rate increases almost instantly to 720 degrees per

second. At two rotations per second, it is very difficult to time the aileron neutralization to arrive

perfectly wings-level again. You overshoot by 30 degrees, but there's a wide grin forming under your

oxygen mask.

The T-38 can be flown throughout its performance envelope, from aerobatics to patterns and landings,

with barely any use of the rudder. With the landing gear retracted, only 6 degrees of rudder deflection is

available, and in the landing configuration, 30 degrees is available.

Like an arrow, the Talon goes where it's pointed, not where it's banked. This means that aggressive

turns are accomplished by rolling in the desired direction (thus placing the lift vector where the plane

needs to go) and pulling the nose to the desired point. To lower the nose to gain airspeed for an

aerobatic maneuver, it is simpler and more comfortable to roll the plane upside down, pull the nose

down to the desired pitch, then roll it upright again.

Stalls are a bit unconventional in the Talon. Unlike most training airplanes, the T-38 does not exhibit a

normal "stall break" and nose-drop at the stall. Instead, the pitch attitude remains almost level, and the

Angle of Attack and airframe buffet both increase dramatically. If the stick is held aft, and the recovery

is not initiated, the plane enters an un-commanded "wing rock" of up to 60 degrees of left and right

bank. In this level, wing-rocking attitude, the airplane sinks nearly vertically at decent rates of well

over 6,000 feet per minute. Proper recovery takes full afterburner, a good deal of pilot finesse to stay

out of the buffet, and plenty of altitude. Because of this unusual stall trait, student pilots in the Talon are

given plenty of instruction in recognizing and recovering from the approach-to-stall. The T-38 is not

approved for spins.

Supersonic flight in the T-38 is almost a non-event. Usually, you enter it from a shallow dive beginning

at approximately 32,000 feet. Although it's possible to exceed Mach 1.0 using Military power in a steep

dive, it's far more expeditious to use afterburner. You set up a 10-degree dive, then ease the throttles

forward over the hump. You observe the nozzle position indicators swing, indicating the 'burners have

lit, and watch the Mach window on the airspeed indicator. 0.91...0.94...0.97... The airplane is stable and

smooth as it passes through the transsonic regime. Somewhere around 0.98, the vertical speed

indicator, airspeed indicator and altimeter briefly rise and fall, spiking "out of synch" with their

previous trends. This is evidence of the bow wave passing over and moving aft on the pitot tube. Next,

as the Mach increases from 0.99 to 1.03, there's a subtle change in the way the stick feels. It becomes

slightly more stiff, as if an autopilot servo had become engaged somewhere in the control system. This

vague stiffness remains constant as you accelerate. You're now supersonic, barely. You look around,

half-expecting to see or feel... something. But all is calm and quiet. No warped stars. No Elvis sighting.

But it's still special and rare, especially for students. For them, it's a rite of passage that moves them

that much closer to their silver wings, and enters them into a special club they'll never forget, regardless

of what aircraft they'll fly later in their careers.

While the manual states that the aircraft is capable of approximately Mach 1.3, the aircraft is blasting

across the practice area at an amazing clip, so you limit yourself to Mach 1.15 for 60 seconds or so,

feeling out the stiff controls and analyzing how the airplane feels during a steep turn and an aileron roll.

The far end of your reserved corridor of airspace is rapidly approaching, and you're out of room for

anything more. You gingerly pull each throttle out of afterburner, one at a time to avoid a flameout,

then raise the pitch to 10 degrees nose-high. Decelerating through Mach 1.0, you note the same brief

fluctuations in the pitot-static instruments. And then it's over. You're back to the drab, plain world of

subsonic—the world everyone else in the world lives in. The fuel gauges show that it's time to go

home. During the descent, you extend the speedbrakes and pull the throttles to idle, resulting in a

descent rate of over 15,000 feet per minute at 300 knots.

The landing pattern is entered from "initial," an upwind leg over the runway at 1,500 feet and 300

knots. At midfield, you crisply roll into a 65- to 70-degree bank and pull the airplane around a 180-

degree turn, losing 70 knots of airspeed and arriving on the downwind leg with approximately one halfmile

spacing from the runway. Abeam the landing zone, you lower the landing gear and flaps, then

push the power up to maintain around 200 knots. At the "perch" point, 45 degrees past the runway

threshold, you roll into a 45-degree banked turn, lower the nose about 5 degrees, and begin pulling the

airplane around the final turn. The T-38 has an unusual airframe buffet at its optimum final-turn Angle

of Attack. New Talon pilots must develop a feel for this phenomenon, and they have to learn that you

must carefully cross-check your airspeed, AOA, and vertical speed carefully to avoid developing a

dangerous sink rate during the final turn. Once established on final, you adjust your speed to 155 knots,

plus one knot for every 100 pounds of fuel in excess of 1,000 pounds. For example, with 1,800 pounds

of fuel on board, the desired final approach speed is 155+8, or 163 knots. This speed is adjusted

upward for gusty winds, or no-flap configurations. (The speed for no-flap approaches is 170 knots, plus

the additions mentioned above.)

There's another oddity you'll notice when landing the T-38: On final approach, your initial aimpoint

must be approximately 450 feet short of the runway threshold. Approaching the threshold, you shift this

aimpoint ever so slightly to a point about 500 feet down the runway, smoothly bring the throttles to

idle, and flare very slightly. This technique results in a threshold crossing height of about 20 feet, and a

landing approximately 500 to 800 feet down the runway. Once on the ground during a full-stop landing,

you raise the nose slowly (and carefully, to avoid hopping the aircraft off the ground) to a 12 degree

nose-high aerobrake attitude. This is a more effective way to slow down than using the Talon's rather

weak wheel brakes. You lower the nosewheel to the runway at 100 knots. The normal landing distance

is between 4,000 and 7,500 feet, depending on pilot technique, condition of the runway, and flap

position. A heavyweight no-flap landing on a wet runway can easily consume more than 9,000 feet of

runway, a fact that severely limits your options under such conditions. Most T-38 bases have a "rabbitcatcher"

web barrier on at least one of their runways, which gives significant peace-of-mind to pilots

who might, due to various factors or malfunctions, expect a long landing roll.

Back at the parking area, the Crew Chief places chocks around your main tires, and signals for shutdown.

You release the throttle gate, pull up on the finger-lifts, and pull the throttles to the 'cutoff'

position. As the engines spool down to a graceful stop, you take off your helmet and let the warm

breeze blow across your face. You don't want to climb out quite yet, so you linger for a moment,

savoring the view of the pointy nose ahead of you, and the petite wings protruding from the fuselage

far behind you. The Crew Chief smiles, but doesn't ask any questions.

The Talon is truly one of the great airplanes of our time. It is a timeless beauty, and has performed

superbly for over six decades as an advanced trainer in several air forces around the world, as well as a

test support aircraft, chase ship, companion/proficiency trainer, light attack/fighter trainer, airshow

performer, and privately-owned personal rocketship. While not a complex or difficult airplane to fly, it

nevertheless has some unique flight characteristics that demand absolute precision and discipline from

its pilot. More than 72,000 student pilots have received their Air Force wings in the Talon—over

55,000 of whom flew the classic A-Model.

Big changes have occurred in the world of the Talon since most of us flew it. In the early 2000s, the

Talon was refurbished and reborn as the T-38C. While still a legendary ride, it lost a bit of its speed, a

bit of its range, and it can't normally fly outside the MOA above FL280 due to modern RVSM

(Reduced Vertical Separation Minima) requirements. In addition, students no longer experience a

“zoom and boom” ride during UPT. The jet's role as a UPT advanced trainer is now only experienced

by half of any given class. GPS and iPads have radically changed how pilots navigate. And the old,

dreaded fix-to-fix exercise, using only the HSI, is no more. Perish the thought.

But those of us who experienced the thrill of flying the original A-Model T-38 can gratefully sit in our

“I Love Me” rooms, sip a Scotch, and smile as we look at our photos and memorabilia, knowing that

we were truly blessed to live in the era of the White Rocket.