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cycle and accelerate to flying speed. This part of the flight envelope was tested at Edwards in an F-16 with a spin chute attached. Today I’ll be doing the test naked (no spin chute).
When you reach the point where the flight control com- puter steps in to “help,” you’re supposed to get a tone in your helmet followed by something like a stick-pusher in a civilian jet. The stick in the F-16 is unaffected, but the stabalateron moves. You fly the test by pulling the jet into a 60-degree climb at low power, then watch what happens. If you maintain a constant 60-degree angle of climb using the flight path marker in the HUD, the AOA (angle of at- tack) increases as the speed bleeds off. As an FCF pilot, you have to let the jet go all the way to the edge of the envelope just in case that’s the point at which the computer is set. If it exceeds the critical AOA, it not only fails the FCF but you’re very close to a deep stall as well.
Falling Through 13,000 Feet
My enthusiasm for this FCF drops to zero when my AOA reaches the point where I should have heard the tone. An instant later, the nose drops, and for a split second, I think the computer has pushed it over and just failed to give me the tone. Not this time. The nose pitches back up, un-commanded. I’m in a deep stall. This test maneuver is started at 15,000 feet for air data computer testing param- eters. The minimum altitude for ejection when the airplane is uncontrolled is 10,000 feet. I’m out of control and falling through 13,000 feet. The emergency procedure for out-of- control has only four steps.
First, release the controls. In the F-16, that’s pretty simple: stop applying pressure in any direction to the stick. Step two is MPO switch: override and hold. Third, stick: cycle in phase. That means try to increase the amplitude of the pitch motion in both the up and down directions. And finally: eject at minimum uncontrolled altitude. When the nose first pitched down, I had already released control pressure, and now I’m holding the MPO switch. At the second pitch-down, I glance at the altimeter to decide if I should push the stick forward or pull the ejection handle. I push forward on the stick. I’m comfortable with the capabilities of the ACES II ejection system. I’ll ride it to 10,000 feet. The nose hesitates on the down cycle, and just at the point I expect it to pitch back up, it falls through to straight down and I begin to ac- celerate. Almost as quickly as I entered the stall, I was out of it. Yeah, right – in dog years. It seemed like 10 minutes of falling. As the airspeed hits 200 KIAS, I start pulling back and bottom out at about 10,001 feet.
I finish up the rest of the FCF checklist and take the jet back to base with a failed AOA limiter to be entered in the maintenance log. I’ve used up 6,100 pounds of fuel in 42 minutes and another 0.7 hours goes into my logbook. Most of my F-16 time was accumulated 0.5 to 1.5 at a time. Almost all of it was very intense, fun flying – FCFs, dropping bombs and fighting against jets from the Fighter Weapon School (Top Gun) or Aggressor squadron.
Fighter time doesn’t include ground time either, only flight time. It’s not surprising that when employers look at flying time, fighter time means something different.
June 2022 / TWIN & TURBINE • 23