On September 23, 1998, the US Air Force allowed me to take one of it's $180,000 jet aircraft up all alone! Here’s my story:

Unlike in the civilian world, military student pilots can pinpoint with some certainty the day and flight on which they're going to initial solo. It is scheduled to occur on the 16^th flight in the training syllabus – or, more appropriately, after they’ve completed the 15^th flight and have been deemed safe for solo.

To best understand the magnitude of what it means to let a student fly a T-37 all alone after merely 15 flights (about 18 hours), consider the following: the USAF’s basic trainer is the Cessna T-37B "Tweet," a twin-engine, 2-seat jet built in the late 1950s. Its jet engines generate just under 2,100 lbs. of total thrust and give it a top speed near 300 KIAS (350 MPH). It is fully aerobatic and can sustain 6 positive and 3 negative Gs. It has the highest G-onset rate of any aircraft in the Air Force at 17 Gs per second -- that's enough to knock you unconscious in less than half a second if you pull back on the stick hard enough.

I began USAF pilot training as a 90-hour Private Pilot with time in the C-150, C-172, and PA-28-140. There were other students with FAA ratings in my class,too – one was even a 4,000 hr ATP who flew Embraer EMB-120s for Continental Express – but most had no flight time at all. Regardless of our civilian flying backgrounds, we all faced a big challenge in learning to fly a "high performance" jet like the Tweet. We endured 6 weeks of academic study and 12-hour flying days filled with high-stress emergency procedure training on top of actually learning to fly the mighty Tweet. Early training flights were filled with power on and off stalls, basic aerobatics, and lots of time learning the traffic pattern. They call it "drinking from a firehose," because there’s so much to learn about flying and procedures that you can’t possibly learn and assimilate it all in the time given. For me, it was the most difficult 18 hours I’d ever spent in the cockpit of an aircraft.

Needless to say, initial jet solo is a major milestone in the life of every student pilot. Like a civilian solo, the flight is very controlled and consists only of traffic patterns and landings. The 15^th (pre-solo) and 16^th (solo) flights are conducted back-to-back on the same day in the same airplane.

My journey to solo in the T-37 begins on September 23^rd, nearly an hour prior to the scheduled takeoff time, at the pre-flight briefing. Every military flight sortie begins with a preflight briefing—the briefing before this 15^th sortie is more in-depth due to the fact that the second half of the flight (#16) will be my solo. During the briefing my Instructor Pilot (IP) and I discuss all aspects of the flight, from the planned maneuvers to "what if" emergency scenarios. Following the briefing, I walk down to the operations desk to "sign out" an aircraft from the squadron Operations Officer. He quizzes me on a few procedures then, satisfied that I am prepared, releases me to fly solo. After checking weather and NOTAMs, I walk into the life support shop and inspect my flight equipment. When I soloed as a civilian pilot, I wore a t-shirt and jeans—the most expensive piece of equipment was my shiny, new David Clark headset. This day, however, I am literally the "million dollar" pilot that the taxpayers expect me to be. I inspect my parachute, HGU-55P helmet, and oxygen mask, then double check that I have everything I need to go out the door: chute, helmet, checklist, in-flight guide, kneeboard, gloves, earplugs, instrument approach plates. I stuff everything into my helmet bag and my IP and I step out to the airplane.

For the presolo flight I am required to satisfactorily perform 3 touch-and-go landings, a go-around, and a VFR pattern breakout. Most civilian pilots won’t be familiar with the concept of "breaking out" of a VFR pattern, but it’s a way of leaving the flow of traffic if a conflict occurs. I am nervous on my pre-solo flight and end up not flying as well as I believe I can. Nevertheless, I complete the required tasks well enough that my IP, Lt. Tim Murphy, believes I am safe to give it a go alone. After landing, we taxi back to the parking area and, like with any traditional solo, the IP gets out, leaving the wide-eyed, scared student (me!) strapped in the jet. It's military tradition that the IP switches flight suit nametags with the student before he goes solo so the student will wear his IP's wings (you can't fly without wings, right?). As Lt. Murphy walks to my side of the jet, he rips the Velcro wings from his flight suit and slaps them on mine. "I want these things back in one piece, you hear me?" he says with a smile. I can’t find the right words to reply with so I just nervously smile and nod. After the crew chief secures the safety belts on the instructor’s seat to my right, it is time for me to go. I crank the engines, check ATIS again, then request taxi clearance.

"WINGS 44, taxi with information Bravo"

All initial solo students at Columbus AFB take to the skies with a "Wings" callsign, so everyone knows there’s an initial solo coming out when they hear it. This tends to frighten some, but mostly it just makes the controllers aware of the situation. I am completely terrified taxiing out to the active runway thinking, "how the hell am I going to be able to do this ALONE?" I keep a certain degree of sanity by going over my pre-takeoff checklists over and over again. By the time I am waiting #1 for takeoff, I have calmed down significantly. Now my goal after taking off is simply to fly around the pattern and perform as many landings as I can until getting low on fuel.

"WINGS 44, winds 240 at 5, cleared for takeoff"

I point myself down Columbus AFB runway 31L, run up the engines, and release the brakes. The only thing on my mind now is flying the jet! While the Tweet never "throws you back in the seat" like you might expect from a twin-engine jet, I am surprised at how much better the Tweet performs with only one person on board. Soon I am turning downwind in the pattern and as I look at the VFR pattern entry point (clearing for traffic), I notice the empty seat beside me. This is the first time I realize I am soaring the Wild Blue skies of northern Mississippi all alone! I smile to myself and decide it would be appropriate to whistle a few bars of the Air Force song right then. To my surprise, I can barely muster a sound under my mask...my mouth is so dry I can’t even whistle! I turn my attention quickly back to flying the "overhead" pattern. Given the fact that you can have up to 12 jets in the pattern at once, things can get pretty confusing, so you have to follow the pattern procedures and know the radio calls perfectly! Flying a high performance jet in this environment also requires you to fly the airplane differently than in a civil pattern. For example, you don't need to turn your average Cessna 172 up to 70° of bank and pull 3 Gs to make a traffic pattern turn like you do in the Tweet!

After clearing for straight-in traffic, I point my mighty Tweety bird up initial, flying directly over the runway at 1,000’ and 200 KIAS. Halfway down the runway, I chop the throttles and bank 60° left into a break turn. Rolling out on "inside downwind," I lower the gear passing 150 KIAS and continue to slow to my final turn airspeed of 110. I arrive at the "perch point" (1/4 mile off the end of the runway at a 45° angle) on-speed and on altitude. At the perch, I select full flaps and roll into 30° of left bank. The "final turn" is a descending 180° turn from which I roll out on a ¼ mile final. Halfway through the turn I check my gear and flap positions and report "gear down" to the controller. I roll out on final perfectly lined up with the runway and aim my jet at the "piano keys"—the markers painted on the first 500’ inside the runway threshold. As I get down close to the runway, I flare a little early resulting in a firm touchdown. Whew! First solo landing! At least now I knew I could put it on the deck alone! I push the throttles back up to military power (full throttle), and soon I am leaping back into the skies to do it all again.

I manage to safely make 7 trips around the traffic pattern, each time gaining more confidence in my ability to fly alone. Though I have to "go around" on two approaches, I make 5 landings in without getting "shot down" by the Runway Supervisory Unit (RSU-- a mini control tower). On a solo flight, the RSU can direct solo students to make their next landing to a full stop. This means that the student screwed up (like forgot to retract his flaps or landing lights) and more than likely that student will fail the flight. We students like to think of it more like being shot down by a surface-to-air missile, except it's a surface-to-air unsatisfactory, or UNSAT. Overall on my flight I have a great time. By the time I’m on the landing roll, I am wishing I had more fuel on board so I could keep flying.

When I taxi back to the parking area, another bit of fun begins. Tradition says that when a student solos a jet for the first time, his classmates throw him in a dunk tank of dirty, stagnant water to celebrate the rite of passage. The flip side of the coin is if the solo student makes in back into the squadron building without being dunked, his 'mates have to buy him the drink of his choice. The class comes out in force to greet me at my jet to ENSURE I don't get away. I have no chance to escape! I put up a little fight, but mostly I accept the dunking with honor.

After all, I'd just flown a jet alone!

Capt Randy Haskin is an F-15E Strike Eagle pilot at Seymour Johnson AFB, NC. He is a graduate of USAF pilot training at Columbus AFB, Mississippi. You can read about his experiences as a student military pilot at his website called "The Road To Wings."