Training for Combat

Many military aviators have probably felt a tinge of sympathy as they follow the story of the EA-6B that clipped a cable in Northern Italy, sending several passengers in a cable car to their deaths. The story will cause many pilots to reflect on their own activities in the air, with some recollections of temptations, close calls, and lucky or unlucky breaks. Only the crew involved in that accident and the investigators know the full story concerning the objective of the flight and the ensuing consequences. It is a real aviation tragedy which calls up again thoughts about realistic training — training to prepare for the high risks of combat flying. How does one prepare aviators for the combat environment without taking risks that jeopardize safety?

It would be hard to deny that most members of the Naval Aviation fraternity, at some time in their youth, have not had a great desire to show off. "Look Ma, no hands" is probably quite representative of a youthful characteristic of those who want to move on and do a "no hands" thing in an airplane. There have been some exuberant showoffs such as Alan Shepard, who parlayed his talents and aggressive approach to aviation into a spectacular career as an astronaut.

People who like to show off are often good candidates for military aviation. Showing off represents a characteristic that often pays off in combat. But how do you hone that characteristic so that it produces a professional mature airman, one who can operate on the fringe of his potential performance envelope, and do it safely? The task presents a challenge to the leaders of aviation units — a challenge that requires some ingenuity and a lot of thoughtful preparation, plus some decent facilities for practice.

Training Like You Fight
I have in mind some training programs that were used by the Navy during the Korean War. Anyone who got involved in that flap remembers that the terrain was hairy. Pilots used three dimensional maps on their knee pads in order to count mountains and valleys in the location of their targets. Avoiding flak during and after a combat run could not be practiced in Korea. You had to start someplace else before arrival in the combat arena.

One unit flying F9F-5s, the hot carrier airplane of that war, came up with a couple of pretty good training exercises in the Moffett Field area of California. To help locate targets, the air intelligence officer and the skipper of the squadron cased the hills and mountains to the east of Moffett, a rather desolate area in those days. Targets of varying size and ease of identification were chosen — things such as power plants, lakes, old mine shafts, small bridges and the like. Each target became more difficult to locate as the number of flights increased.

The target for the final flight in the target location phase was one of those old Foster and Kleiser signboards located at the intersection of a couple of narrow dirt roads, out in the boondocks. The regime required the pilot to report to the squadron skipper after the flight and tell him the words that were printed on the signboard. There was no way that you could read the big orange letters on that sign without dropping wheels and flaps, dragging the terrain at very low level and a slow speed while trying to read the sign. Several pilots took more than one hop to graduate. The words were "Orange Crush," and were one of the best-kept secrets of Naval Aviation. No one was going to reveal the answer to a teammate. It took some training and a bit of courage to learn those words, and the exercise presented the kind of challenge that tailhookers enjoy. Having that flight on the agenda satisfied some of the desire to show off. It was an exercise directly related to dragging targets in Korea to validate their value and to assess damage. The squadron learned the techniques with legalized showing off maneuvers in California as part of the regular combat training syllabus.

High Speed, Low Altitude
Another program was designed to prepare air group pilots for rescue operations of downed pilots. An area was scooped in the foothills east of Moffett. Permission was obtained from appropriate authorities to fly at any altitude in the area, while the pilots exercised rescue procedures that included the use of colored panels, mirrors and walkie-talkies. Also included were "enemy" planes who harassed those attempting to support a rescue effort. That meant flying at high speed at low altitude around the valleys and ridges of the area. It provided an opportunity for the kind of showing off that most pilots like to do, but it was performed in a professional manner under supervision, and with the objective of surviving in combat.

A third program involved instrument flying. There were relatively few night operations in the Korean War for general-purpose carrier aviators. That task was left to specialized teams trained for the purpose. But there was a lot of klag, clouds, rain and foul weather in that theater, particularly in winter months. To operate in the daytime required a good instrument flying capability. Conducting appropriate training in the busy metropolitan area of San Francisco was difficult. A simple yet effective night syllabus flight was designed to ensure that each pilot had perfected his ability to fly instruments in the combat arena. After takeoff, the pilot with a chase plane proceeded to the Pacific Coast near Moffett and headed due west at low altitude and high speed for about 20 minutes. Then came a climb to high altitude followed by any acrobatics the pilot desired to try. Lastly was a nice leisurely return to Moffett with an instrument letdown to a landing. Anyone who has flown far out to sea at night knows that there is no horizon, that you are in a black hole and that frequent reference to the cockpit instruments is essential for successful completion of a flight. This training flight was a simple yet legitimate test of instrument flying capability, and it provided an opportunity while under observation to fly as low as you wanted and perform any acrobatics desired, in a black hole. It satisfied some of the showoff urges of several.

Operating at the Fringe of the Envelope
Flying in combat is serious business. Preparing for that eventuality is mandatory. The challenge in training for combat is to do it safely. Realistic training programs designed to push a pilot to the fringe of the performance envelope won't guarantee an elimination of all showoff maneuvers, but it can certainly reduce the number and provide some realistic training — and fun — at the same time.

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding the fate of the EA-6B pilot and his crew involved in the cable car incident, most members of the Tailhook community, at least, will be filled with feelings of regret and a sense of brotherhood. One of the fraternity is in trouble, for whatever the reason. Could it have been avoided with some realistic program that taxed the individuals involved and satisfied the urge to show off? Could the training program have been better designed? Who knows, but if the incident causes others to reflect on their own combat training programs and improve their quality, something good will come from the incident, typical of most aviation mishaps.

Flying at the fringe of the envelope is a necessary experience in preparation for combat and it satisfies the "showing off" urge, but it must be incorporated into a formal training syllabus, not left to the temptations of the moment.

Ed. Note: VADM Miller is a frequent contributor to The Hook and is one of Tailhook's most ardent supporters. He has commanded a jet fighter squadron, an ammunition ship and USS Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVA-42) as well as Carrier Division Three in Vietnam.

VADM Miller later commanded 2nd Fleet and NATO Striking Force, Atlantic, as well as 6th Fleet and NATO Striking Force, Mediterranean. He is a longtime supporter of Tailhook, and recently served as the Ramsey Fellow in the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in Washington. He is now a research associate working on the publication of books for the Smithsonian, the first dealing with carrier aviation and nuclear weapons.

He currently lives in Oakton, Va., and is active in the business world. He was a founder and senior officer of the Association of Naval Aviation and the Naval Aviation Foundation.