Finding balance

It was a dark and moonless night about 80 miles off the coast of Norfolk, Virginia, as the Air Wing was conducting night carrier qualifications. This was my third trip to the USS America as a young lieutenant assigned to my first squadron, and I had about 40 “traps” under my belt. To monitor and improve safety, every landing aboard an aircraft carrier is graded by specially trained landing signal officers (LSOs), and per tradition in the Navy, these grades are displayed in the squadron ready room on the “greenie board.” A green tile is earned after an “OK” landing with a grade of 4.0. Yellow tiles represent a “fair” landing with a grade of 3.0. Brown is a “no-grade” with a grade of 2.5. Red signifies a “wave-off,” with the grade dependent upon why the pilot was waved off by the LSO—usually 1.0. And finally, the dreaded “cut” pass, which is earned if the pilot performs “an unsafe act inside the wave-off window” and carries a grade of zero. The typical squadron greenie board is a mix of green and yellow tiles with the occasional no-grade or wave-off.

My line on the squadron greenie board was adorned with mostly yellow tiles and the occasional no-grade. After 10 “Fair” landings in a row, I grew frustrated that I could not break into the ranks of those who were consistently earning green tiles. Enter the self-imposed pressure. Night after night, I would mentally prepare for the instrument approach and landing, and each night I increased my focus to avoid past mistakes. I thought my performance was improving, but the yellow tiles kept appearing. Then one night I scored a brown tile—a no-grade for 2.5 points. The LSO’s debrief stated that I dropped lineup from my scan and drifted left of centerline on landing. Not good in my trusty S–3 Viking, with its 70-foot wingspan and a 100-foot-wide landing area. My grades were going in the wrong direction. Now, the self-imposed pressure really grew—until it backfired on me in a spectacular fashion.

Not wanting another no-grade, my next night approach was hyper-focused on keeping the ILS needles centered, my airspeed on speed, and the aircraft perfectly trimmed. All I had to do was maintain a centered meatball, centered lineup, and on speed all the way to touchdown—and of course not disregard the centerline as I had the previous night. The approach was flawless, and my focus was intense. As I crossed the fantail, I detected a slight drift to the left, and I entered a right-wing down correction to stay on centerline. Certainly, a green landing was coming my way. But when the LSOs came to the ready room to debrief me, their somber expressions foretold a different grade. Apparently, my “little” wing dip performed to stay on the centerline was so aggressive that my right wing tip slammed onto the flight deck as the right main touched down. And the Viking is a high-wing jet! My lack of awareness of the growing pressure to improve my grades resulted in a damaged wing tip and a cut pass worth 0.0 points. Not only did I overcontrol the aircraft and risk catching the four-wire with the wing tip (which would not have ended well), but the squadron skipper pulled me from the schedule for three days to “think about my landings.”My lack of awareness of the growing pressure to improve my grades resulted in a damaged wing tip.

Those three days of reflection on that fateful night taught me to be happy with the grades I got and not try to be better than I was. Yellow landings were fine, and I began to trust that my grades would improve with experience. I also learned to improve my cockpit stress management by adopting simple habits. I started drinking water instead of coffee before flying. I got more sleep at night, and I made it a point to improve my diet while deployed. These stress management techniques and my decision to be happy with the grades I was getting really helped. By the time we deployed two months later, I was seeing a healthy mix of green and yellow tiles on the greenie board.

Stay focused and stay safe!

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