I can remember like it was yesterday the first time I climbed on top of a Tomcat to preflight my first flight in the jet (VF-124, Miramar, 1990). I had just passed my final FAM (familiarization) simulator where the instructor is another pilot who signs off on me being able to fly the jet and THEN has to put his money where his mouth is and ride in the back seat. Bear in mind there was never a "T" (trainer) model of the Tomcat. Two seats, one stick, so the GIB (Guy in Back) has no way to control the airplane. Some instructors were VERY reluctant to do these "trunk rides", one guy to the point that during your final check simulator he'd give you an unrecoverable emergency on takeoff (split flap one way, stuck spoilers on the other side) and you'd simulated "augur in " just past the runway, he'd give you a "pink sheet" (a downing flight/bad grades). Naturally, I got that guy. So "Jethro" did the above to me and I was pretty upset since my performance had been really good up until that point. And this was a big deal; two "pinks" and you were gone. So I go back to the squadron to tell the Ops O ("Flex") to give him my pink sheet, ready to get savaged. I walk into Ops and get his attention, handing him the pink sheet (it was the pink page of a carbon copy stack, so actually pink). He looks at it, sees it's signed by "Jethro", crumples it up and throws it in the shit can saying ("Ffffff.........Jethro."). I was rescheduled for the next day with "Stainless", passed the check simulator and was on the schedule the next day for my first flight. Nervous as hell but ready, the big idea for this flight is to man the jet up, get it started, get through all the post start checks (a legendarily daunting task....takes an hour your first time), get the beast airborne, do some maneuvers, come back for some touch and goes, and in general just don't fuck it up. Good plan. So Stainless and I climb on top of the jet (for my first time) and says "This is why it's called the flying tennis court." The view was spectacular! This thing was HUGE compared to my last jet (T-A4J Skyhawk; length 40 feet, wingspan 27 feet and a wing area of 260 square feet). The Tomcat is 62 feet long, a max spread wingspan of 64 feet, and a wing area of 565 feet (in addition to the massive fuselage). A veritable MONSTER in comparison. We'd learn a little later in the RAG how formidable that little A-4 could be in the hands of those (f**king) bogey drivers! And little did I know at the time, but I'd eventually be a RAG instructor myself, doing the very same "trunk rides". They were actually kind of fun, really. You got a chance to play with all that RIO shit, and the young pilots generally knew what they were doing by that point. And anyway, if it all went to shit I could always pull the "give-it-back-to-the-taxpayer handle". I really valued my opportunity to show a young pilot his or her first view of "the flying tennis court." #TomcatTuesday

I recently built some new shelves for display of various brick sets. It’s set into window alcoves in our upstairs playroom. Pictures taken at dusk to show the lighting effects and the floodlight on the Endurance.

It is done. The USS WASP (LHD-1) is leaving the shipyard 10 days early. 5,220 pieces. 70 construction hours. Best. Build. Ever.

This day marks your entry into a unique fraternity of warriors. Congrats, Brother.

I think that’s true but at the time with almost no experience to judge, I was just along for the ride! Now my Dad told me some “back in the day” stories from his early years as a Naval Aviator in the late 50s about hydraulic (vice steam) catapults. Apparently there was very little in the way of “metering” the acceleration like with steam. Hydraulic catapults were just a BANG type of jolt. Any older farts out there have any experience to relate?

Fu*cking BEAST!

When I went to the boat for the first time in the T-2 Buckeye in 1989, the Lex was getting some maintenance done so it was the JFK. Talk about a little T-2 disappearing on the enormous JFK flight deck…. TA-4J traps were on Lex.

Oof. Hit Alpha.

#TomcatTails Number 87 #TomcatTuesday “A Simple Level Turn to Downwind….Sort Of.” “Snapper” Bull was one of my best friends and squadron mates in the VF-24 Renegades and the VF-101 Grim Reapers. He’d come to VF-24 sometime in 1994 as a former A-6 BN that had left the Intruder community as it was slowly de-commissioning squadrons. We immediately hit it off and flew together quite a bit. He brought extensive knowledge of the Air-to-Mud mission just as the Tomcat community was ramping up that mission set. And he, like me, was a bit of a Liberty Risk in CONUS and overseas. The term “Liberty Risk” is normally used to designate Sailors that had conducted themselves in a……less than exemplary manner while on Liberty, shall we say. So when Snapper and I went on Liberty, we’d typically have a really good time (just short of Law Enforcement being involved). And in a foreign country on Liberty it was something like this: Corky on Liberty: “Uh oh.” Snapper on Liberty: “Oh shit.” Corky AND Snapper on Liberty: “Alert the consulate.” At any rate, we flew together quite a bit and shared a similar “aggressiveness of spirit” in the jet. Nothing ever stupid, nothing ever unsafe, but if we faced a limit (speed, altitude, etc.) you’d find us snuggled up right against that limit. We were on a cross country at one time, flying a VF-101 jet out of NAS Oceana to somewhere. One of the stops we’d filed for was some Air Force base, since AF bases typically had great turn around services. As we arrived near our destination and descended toward the Initial Point we were directed to switch to tower frequency and check in. We were about 5 miles from the AF base descending toward 2,000 feet and the following conversation happens: Snapper: “Tower, Rage 102 checking in, IP inbound for the overhead, request carrier break.” Tower: “Roger that Rage 102, your cleared for the overhead. What’s the carrier break?” Snapper: “Tower, Rage 102, a carrier break is an 800-foot level turn to downwind.” Tower: “Rage 102, copy that. Cleared for the carrier break.” Snapper (to me): “It’s on tape…cleared weird dude.” This particular AF base, like many, was out in the boonies with miles of open land surrounding it, so I simply lowered the nose and got to about 450 knots and 800 feet a couple miles from the runway. Then I thought better of it. Breaking at 800 feet and descending to 600 feet is like two steps; kind of complicated. Maybe it’d be more safe if I just executed the break at 600 feet. Hell, the 90° position is 450 feet. Let’s do it at 450 feet……ish. Meanwhile, Snapper has his arms on the canopy rail, just enjoying the show. We came zorching over the runway wings back at 400 feet (ish) at about 450 knots. I took it all the way to mid field, so more people could enjoy the show… I mean be safety observers. A nice smooth parade roll left to 90° angle of bank, and lay on a punishing 6.5G pull as I went to full zone 5 on both engines, sweeping the burner cans across the entire airfield, bathing the base in the Sound of Freedom (and probably setting off all the car alarms in the parking lots). Decelerate, speed brakes and wings out, gear down, flaps down, turn to final and land (right on the nice shiny white runway numbers to make some skid marks on them because we can). As we rolled out, tower called us: Tower: “Rage 102, Tower.” Snapper: “Go ahead, Tower.” Tower: “That was……impressive. Cleared to switch ground.” Yes, it was, Tower. Yes, it was.