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This incident, time wise, occurred in the
period 1951-52. The 50th FBW was located at Toul-Rosieres,
France. As the Commander of the 50th, I was required like
every else to renew my instrument rating as a pilot.
As I recall the incident, the day was
sunny, warm with little or no wind. The instrument rating
flight would take place in a T-33. I knew, and was well
acquainted with the flight instructor, a captain in the Wing.
We did the walk-around inspection together, and picked up no
deficiencies.
With the captain in the front seat, and
myself buckled in the rear we taxied to the current runway and
took off. Everything about the flight was normal as we
climbed to 10,100 feet.
At level-off, the captain asked me to get
under the hood for some normal maneuvers. Any pilot would
be familiar with them, i.e., a forty-five degree bank in either
direction; a climb of five hundred feet; followed by a descent
of the same to level off at 10,100 feet once again.
At this point the captain asked me to close
my eyes preparatory to his executing an unusual attitude with
the T-33. I did so (how many others cheated?), and was
told to recover the aircraft. It was a relatively mild
“unusual maneuver”, and in short order I returned the bird
to level flight.
The captain obviously was not content to
let it go at that, so he really went through several gyrations
(I had me eyes closed), and then turned the T-33 over to me.
Well, maybe it has happened to every pilot at one time or
another, but when I first saw the attitude instrument, I
immediately assumed we were in a steep climbing turn. In
other words, I mistakenly switched the horizon with the
miniature aircraft. The procedure to recover was obvious.
I pushed the stick forward fearing a stall and leveled the
wings. Subconsciously, I heard the passage of air past the
cockpit increase rapidly.
At that point, the captain said, “I have
it, colonel!” I immediately released control of the aircraft
and experienced what I would estimate to be about a 9 to 10g
pull-out. Of course, I came out from under the hood to see
what was happening. We were straight and level at about
four thousand feet. The captain advised over the
interphone, “Well, that wraps it up sir. We may as well
go in and land the bird.”
That was fine with me – feeling secure in
the knowledge that I had passed the instrument test.
We landed; taxied to a parking spot on the
ramp; cut the engine after the crew chief chocked the wheels.
He climbed up on the wing and asked the captain, “What
happened, sir. The wings have pretty deep wrinkles through
the landing gear area on both sides.” I will never
forget the captain’s answer. He said, “Well, during
the instrument check ride I gave Colonel Ascani an unusual
maneuver, and then he gave me one!”
A PostScript: the T-33 went into the modification hangar for
major repairs |