The simple stuff
Ask yourself ‘what am I messing up?’
My flight lead/instructor, who also happened to be our squadron leader, caught me in the escape and was understandably confused, then angry. I had wasted a lot of precious jet fuel in my buffoonery. And the day had begun on such a positive note.
Unbeknownst to me, I was flying with the squadron commander because I was in consideration for top graduate honors in the six-month F–15 upgrade training program. My supervisor paired me with our commander on the final intercept sortie—the phase check—so the boss could gain exposure to my flying that would help confirm his selection for the number-one graduate. I didn’t think much about why I might be paired with the squadron leader. I was head’s down, grinding each day and enjoying some obscurity.
My strong performance in the notoriously challenging F–15 program brought more relief than reward. After graduating U.S. Air Force Undergraduate Pilot Training with distinction, I had stumbled and almost “washed out” of Lead In Fighter Training (LIFT) in the AT–38. I arrived at Luke Air Force Base for F–15 upgrade training on what would be analogous to a performance improvement plan. My gradebook was outlined with a colored stripe—as was my name badge on the scheduling board—which annotated my struggles in LIFT for all to see. The only thing missing was a big scarlet letter to wear on my chest. Thanks largely to superb instruction, I excelled in the F–15 course from the start, and after the punishing Basic Fighter Maneuvers (BFM) phase, had my colored badges removed, while others in my class had them applied.
Intercept sorties taught different styles of intercepts on dissimilar types of targets: fast mover; slow mover; high-to-low; low-to-high; radar lock; no-radar lock; pure horizontal offset and pure vertical offset. Figuring out aspect angles, closure speeds, collision antenna train angles (CATA), and heading crossing angles was mentally challenging. Students had to demonstrate mastery of all these concepts while maneuvering to an offensive position.
This phase check started fine. En route to the working area, the instructor sent me to tactical formation—one mile spacing, line abreast, and level. Entering the area we executed G-awareness maneuvers, then the boss split me off to the “south” point. The south point. Every other instructor had sent me to the north point for our intercept drills. I selected the north point in my navigation and called, “South point ready.”
“Nickel One’s at the north point. Turn in, fight’s on,” called my instructor. I turned in and immediately grew anxious. My instructor—the target—should have been about 50 miles off my nose in the heart of the F–15 radar range, but I couldn’t find him. He couldn’t find me either. “Knock it off,” he barked. “Return to the south point and call ready.” We turned inbound again, neither of us detecting the other. Knock it off. “Two, confirm your INS programming and that you are at the south point.” Returning to the north point—but still believing I was at the south point—I glanced up and saw an F–15 Eagle a couple thousand feet above me.
Then it dawned on me. I had mentally flipped the map and I was actually at the north point. We couldn’t see each other on radar because we were on top of each other, headed the same direction. I lit up the afterburners and tried to run south before he caught on, but the wing flash and afterburner caught his attention and he saw me on the run. Busted.
After piecing together my mistake, the commander went silent on the radio. I was expecting him to call, “Safe it up, join it up, we’re going home,” which would signal my first busted ride in the program. But he didn’t. He sent me to the south point, and I flew a set of good intercepts, using aggressive angles since I was low on fuel and couldn’t rely on afterburner for speed overtake. The boss closed the final intercept by rocking me into close formation, glaring at me long enough for me to notice, and leaving me there for the entire flight home. A clear demonstration of his annoyance.
In the debrief, I had no answers for why I flipped the map in my head. Habit? Expectation bias? I did learn though, that when something isn’t right, first roll back to the simple stuff. Ask yourself, “what am I messing up?” Most of the time, that line of inquiry will solve your problem. It did many times in my F–15 career.
My intercepts overcame the orientation blunder. He passed me on the ride with a parting comment that my navigational wandering should earn a new call sign…Magellan.
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