Posts tagged ‘aviation’
WALT TRIZNA: PILOT TRAINING, AN END AND A BEGINNING
I thought I would use the next series of posts to relate my experience while a member of the United States Air Force (1969-1973). I found my experience in the military to be rewarding. We will begin with my entering pilot training. For those who find these posts interesting you might want to read a past post about my time in college posted on 10/17/2025. This post leads into my time in the air force.
PILOT TRAINING, PART I
It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The class was loaded onto a bus and headed toward the runway. But there was no flying today. And we were headed not for the runways but to the grassy area between the runways.
It was parachute time.
The way this was accomplished was by putting a parachute harness with an exposed parachute on your backs. A couple men would hold the parachute open so that it would fully open when the 500-foot rope attached to the front of the harness and the other end attached to a jeep and the jeep began to move. When the jeep did start to move you ran for about two or three steps and up you went.
Before I went aloft one guy hooking up my harness looked into my eyes. They must have been fully dilated because he asked me if I was scared. I was scared shitless.
The ride up once the parachute was inflated was great. When you stopped gaining altitude and came to a stop, the view was fantastic. Then the rope was released from the jeep, and you were on the way down. This part was terrifying.
I remember looking down and thinking that I don’t want to impact the ground. How do I avoid impacting the ground? Of course, this was an extremely stupid thought for the ground was rapidly coming up to meet me. And before I knew it we did meet, and I didn’t break anything.
Now to the problems I had with flying.
To start off, when you were on the runway in the T37, before you took off, you ran the engines, holding down the brakes which were also the rudder pedals, up full. Turns out the engines were stronger than my legs and the plane would ever so slowly turn to the left. After straightening the plane, we took off.
My next problem was the windshield which, in the jet, had a different shape than the two propeller planes I flew. My mind could not make the change between the two types, so I was flying with the image of the prop plane in my mind. Therefore, I was constantly flying with a slight bank to the left. A simple look at my instruments could have corrected this. Didn’t do it.
Then there was the trim.
The trim was meant to make it easy to control the aircraft. There were small flaps on the tail trailing edges controlled by a button on the top of the stick. If you had the plane trimmed up right you could let go of the stick and the plane would not change the attitude in which it was flying. My instructor could let go of the stick while making a turn and the plane would just continue making the turn. He had the plane trimmed that well. If I was flying and let go of the stick we would have crashed. Never got the hang of the trim.
Now the major problem I had with the difference between the prop plane and the jet with power control.
With the prop plane, when you needed power you pushed the throttle forward and power was instantly available. In the jet you pushed the throttle forward and it took some time for the engine to wind up and provide the power you needed. You had to be able to anticipate your power needs. In fact, in the T37 there were thrust attenuators which came out behind the engines when you were set up to land. So, if you ran into trouble when landing you raised your landing gear, the thrust attenuators were retracted, and you instantly had more power.
With all these deficiencies it was determined that a check-ride was called for. That ride was scheduled for Labor Day, 1969. This flight would determine whether or not I should continue in the pilot training program.
Before you took off, you first had to complete the preflight checklist. I walked around the plane checking what needed to be checked. As I was about to climb into the plane, stepping onto the ejection seat the instructor was already sitting in the right seat. He looks at me and holds up a pin with a small red flag attached. Now, this pin was inserted in the bottom of the ejection seat to ensure that you did not accidentally eject yourself from the aircraft as you climbed in. I forgot to check the pin. The instructor had removed it and I didn’t notice it was missing. So, in reality I had probably failed the ride before I had even left the ground. The ability I demonstrated during the flight further sealed my fate.
To confirm what I was sure was true, while walking away from the plane the instructor asked, “Well, Lieutenant Trizna, what else would you like to do in the air force?”
WALT TRIZNA: PILOT TRAINING, PART II
I thought I would use the next series of posts to relate my experience while a member of the United States Air Force (1969-1973). I found my experience in the military to be rewarding. We will begin with my entering pilot training. For those who find these posts interesting you might want to read a past post about my time in college posted on 10/17/2025. This post leads into my time in the air force.
PILOT TRAINING, PART II
Every day we went to a classroom. We were tested on emergency procedures and then waited for out turn to fly. When not flying we also spent hours sitting in the cockpit of a T37 on the ground. The purpose was to facilitate ourselves with the location of all the instruments. This was so, that in a glance, we could see what was happening with the plane.
Along with classroom training on the ground there was a host of other training activities. One task was learning how to release yourself from a parachute harness when landing on a windy day. I think the enlisted men loved this training because they got to drag an office all over the ground. This training was done wearing an empty parachute harness with a rope attached. The other end of the rope was attached to a jeep being driven by an enlisted man the jeep began moving and off you went. The jeep did not go very fast but bumping along. The uneven ground was not much fun and did not make the release easy.
There was training conducted in an altitude chamber. They let us experience rapid decompression. They then let us become hypoxic. We teamed up with both of us wearing oxygen at an altitude where they would be required. One guy would take off his mask while the other kept an eye on him. After he passed out he would put his partner’s mask back on. This was so you got a feeling for what it was like when you were about to pass out from lack of oxygen.
Another bit of training was jumping into a swimming pool wearing your flight suit and swim to the edge of the pool and get out. Thankfully you were allowed to wear sneakers instead of the combat boots you would normally wear while flying.
Then there was the ejection seat experience. There was an ejection seat mounted on a vertical rail. Now in the T37 there was something like a large shotgun shell to get you out of the plane. The next trainer was the T38, a supersonic jet and this plane had a rocket attached to the ejection seat. You could eject on the ground if you had enough forward speed.
There was another difference between the two trainers. The T38 stood taller than the T37. There was a set of cables at the end of the runway because in the event you could not stop the plane the cable would stop you. This was only for the T38. You see the T37 was a lot shorter than the T38. If you were headed for the cables in a T37 you were instructed to run the plane off the runway. You see, because the T37 was much shorter than the T38 the cables would not stop the plane. Rather, they would roll over the nose of the plane and shear off the canopy, along with the head who was unfortunate enough to be sitting in the cockpit.
Then there was parachute training. The first step was learning how to fall. This was done using a platform about three feet off the ground into a pit which looked like a mixture of sawdust and mulch. You stood on the platform and jump, falling the way you had been instructed. I think in this training I used neck muscles I had never used before because when I woke up the next morning I could not raise my head.
Next came a touch of reality in parachute training.
WALT TRIZNA: PILOT TRAINING, PART I
I thought I would use the next series of posts to relate my experience while a member of the United States Air Force (1969-1973). I found my experience in the military to be rewarding. We will begin with my entering pilot training. For those who find these posts interesting you might want to read a past post about my time in college posted on 10/17/2025. This post leads into my time in the air force.
PILOT TRAINING, PART I
Not many days after graduation from Oklahoma State University I was instructed to report for pilot training at Craig AFB outside Selma, Alabama.
The class was made up of twenty to twenty-five, and the number steadily decreased as time went on. Most were air force second lieutenants with one Marine first lieutenant and three Iranian officers.
This was 1969 and this country was training Iranian pilots. There was one thing different with their future than with the Americans. They entered pilot training as officers with a career commitment. If they washed-out they still had a career commitment but as enlisted men.
The leader of the class was Captain Rotella. He had been a navigator and now wanted to be a pilot. I heard that after he graduated from pilot training he was assigned to C130 training. He was on an orientation ride on a C130 when an engine fell off the plane. The plane crashed and all aboard were killed.
The first plane we flew in pilot training was the T41 which was a Cessna 172. A four-seat plane slightly larger than the two-seat Cessna 150 on which I learned to fly. Interestingly, we went to a civilian airport where the planes were kept and were taught by civilian instructors. This makes a lot of sense because you wouldn’t want students flying prop planes while there were jets, also being flown by students, zooming around.
Since most of us already knew how to fly we were soloing in no time.
There is one incident I recall while flying solo in the T41 that was rather unusual. I was flying in the traffic pattern on the downwind leg when I received a radio call to exit the traffic pattern. Turns out there was an Iranian student also in the traffic pattern who was radioed to leave the pattern a couple of time and did not respond. They told me where he was, and I looked behind me to my left and a little below and there he was. We were flying in formation in the traffic pattern. With, of course, no knowledge of how to fly in formation. Things would have gotten very interesting when it came time to bank and enter the base leg. I exited the traffic pattern immediately.
Once we completed our T41 training it was on to the T37. This was a small twin engine straight-winged jet and flight training was now at the base. I found that flying a jet was much different than flying a propeller plane. More on that latter.
WALT TRIZNA: COLLEGE AND LEARNING TO FLY
Recently I’ve been posting chapters of my memoir started 25 years ago remembering my childhood in Newark, New Jersey. Now I’m going to share some memories of when I was much older.
COLLEGE AND LEARNING TO FLY
Previously, I listed my two dream professions, science and writing, and along the way you will see how things worked out.
One benefit I see in old slowly becomes apparent as the years progress. oh, there are all the aches and pains. Not being able to do the things you once did or want to do. But now you have time to think and reflect on your life. Looking at what you accomplished and failed to accomplish.
Let me say now that there is nothing I wanted to do in life that I did not do. My disappointment is not achieving the level in my accomplishments that I had hoped for.
One dream, which I mentioned earlier was learning how to fly.
Upon entering Oklahoma State University I enrolled in Air Force ROTC. One of the enlisted men working in the unit said those initials stood for ‘rapers of tiny children’ demonstrating a certain lack of his respect for future officers and probably what most enlisted men thought of second lieutenants. After taking a written test and having a physical, I found that I had qualified for pilot training. When you qualify the government pays for 36 and ½ hours of flight training during your senior year.
I was going to learn how to fly.
Now, Oklahoma can be rather windy at times. I flew twice a week. Once in the early morning and once in the afternoon. In the morning the air was like silk. The afternoons were another story. At times I felt as if I were one with the little two-seat Cessna 150 I was flying during those morning flights.
After about six hours of instructions, I was flying with my instructor shooting touch-and -goes when he had me stop on the runway got out of the plane and I was on my own flying the traffic pattern. Now, my instructor was not a big guy, but as soon as I took off I notice how different the little plane handled.
Now, about flying in the afternoon, conditions were quite different than my morning flying. In the afternoon thermals were beginning to develop. You would be flying over land and then over a lake and you and your plane got quite a jolt because of the thermals developed over both types of surfaces.
And the wind!
One windy day I came in for a landing. Tried as I might, I could not keep the plane over the runway. It was that windy. Finally, I had to go around, enter the traffic pattern, and try again. I might mention that on the runway where I was trying to land I had seen a Boeing 707 land.
There was another incident worth mentioning. I have no sense of direction. My family kids me about that. I was flying solo cross-country. Just a short flight of maybe a hundred miles or so. Shortly after taking off, I felt my instrument I was using for direction was wrong and decided to depend on my instincts. Big mistake. I had my map on my knee and soon there were lakes on the ground which weren’t on the map. Something told me those lakes were not formed since the map was published. I was lost. I saw a small town with a water tower. These towers usually have the name of the town on them. Not this tower. Finally, I saw a small airport. Looking at my map and the configuration of the runways I was able to identify the airport and now knew my location. I also noticed that railroad tracks ran from the tow to the route I was supposed to be on. So flying over the tracks I was back in business.
MY NEED TO FLY, FINAL PART
MY NEED TO FLY, FINAL PART
The thoughts behind the birth of this piece is that my love for aircraft still remains and I read extensively about the subject. My reading includes a great deal of reading about World War II. I had been reading articles about German pilots during that war and could not believe how they could fly for that monster, Hitler. How could they do that? Then I realized they were flying because of their love for flying, not for Hitler. I came to this conclusion upon studying my own experience with flying.
I was learning to fly during the Viet Nam War. And never once considered the merits of that war. A war which many, back then, thought to be unjust. And how history has proved them to be right. But I wanted to learn to fly, and that desire clouded my thoughts about the situation the country was involved in during that period. So, in reality, I came to realize that there is little difference between me and those German pilots. The desire to fly was primary.
BACK TO BASICS
My blog is returning to stories both personal and of the mind.
MY NEED TO FLY, PART I
Ever since I can remember I have been in love with airplanes and flight. Reading about their history and current developments along with learning about famous pilots in the past kept my interest alive.
In my youth I began on the road of becoming a voracious reader with comic books. The genres I loved the most were superheroes and horror. If you read my short stories you would see that my love for horror continues.
One thing I remember about comic books back then was the back page. Most of the time there were ads. One of the common ads was of some wimpy guy having sand kicked into his face by a muscular Heman. With the help of this ad, you could become a muscular Heman, and I guess kick sand into a guy not as well-developed as you.
Now I’m talking about the early 1960s, less than 20 years after the conclusion of World War II. The country still had a massive amount of military equipment. You could find ads at the back of comic book for some of this equipment for sale. Of course, readers of comic books had plenty of money to make purchases of these items. For sale were army jeeps for $99. A lot of money back then. I am shocked at the price of cars these days. I bought my first Volkswagen Beetle in late 1969 for slightly over $2000. The only reason it was more than $2000 was that I wanted a radio, AM. There were also ads for crated airplanes from World War II with no indication whether they were bombers or fighters.
This was way before the War Bird movement for restoring and flying such aircraft came into existence. Now these same planes are for sale for millions of dollars. I recall reading a story, not long ago, of a Hellcat, a navy carrier aircraft, being flown cross-country to a school where these aircraft were used for instruction. The plane ran out of fuel and the pilot made a perfect emergency landing in a farm field. When it was time for the farmer to plow, the plane was offered by the government for free to whomever would tow it away. Obtained for free was an aircraft which would cost millions today/
It was no surprise that when I was in high school these ads caught my attention. I, along with some friends of mine who were also crazy about airplanes decided to buy one. Where money would come from was caught up in our dreams.
Now, we planned to buy an airplane. Did we have any tools to accomplish the construction of said plane? No! Did we have any of the skills required to accomplish this task? No! Did we have a place to do the work? No! Of course, nothing came of this plan, but for a very short time, we dreamed
My interest in airplanes never wavered and was carried into college where I enrolled in Air Force ROTC. I took a gamble that I would qualify for piolet training, and I won. When you qualify for piolet training, the government pays for 36.5 hours of flight instruction during your senior year.
I was going to learn to fly – for free.
I still look back on those days of flight training fondly. Of the day when I was shooting touch and go landings. My instructor had me stop on the runway, got out, and I was on my own rejoining the traffic pattern.
I flew twice a week and remember one morning when the air was like silk, and the plane and I became one. Now, this flying was taking place in Oklahoma where it can be rather windy. One afternoon I was flying solo in the little Cessna 150 being used for flying lessons and the wind was blowing hard. I came in for a landing on a runway long enough to land a Boeing 707. I flew the length of the runway but couldn’t stay over the runway long enough to land and had to go around.
Then there was the time I was lost flying solo. I have no sense of direction and did not believe my instrument used for direction. But that’s another story.
Even with a few speedbumps I enjoyed every minute I spent learning to fly.
THE READING WORLD WAR II WEEKEND
The World War II weekend at the Reading Airport is now history. A short time ago I posted a piece describing the event and providing the date. Along with the information I included my first published short story centered on that weekend event.
After working the mornings of all three days of the event this year, I would like to share some observations.
We had quite a few veterans of that war, along with more recent wars, in attendance. I watched the World War II veterans, mostly in wheelchairs or supported by walkers, make their way through the gate to relive their youth. Although there was one spry 94 year old, who could have passed for 70, come to enjoy the show and I’m sure relive a time long gone. I tried to imagine what life was like when they were young men, in a foreign country, facing death any day. And what life must have been like for the civilians. In this day and age, could we muster the dedication on the scale to defeat the evil foe of that era?
These gallant men, participants belonging to the great greatest generation, rapidly dwindling, need to reveal their experiences. If you know a participant of that war, gently try to persuade them to talk of their experiences. Some are just waiting for someone to ask.
Also, if you know someone who lived during that era on the home front, ask them to share their experiences during that stressful time.
Their history needs to be preserved while we can still touch it.
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