Chapter 2 The Set Up

Burro in Morocco - photo by JoAnn Sturman

by S.R. Oberst

The next few months went by quickly. I was flying about 100 hours a month and getting great training from the senior pilots. Fortunately, Captain Charlie Crown avoided flying as much as possible, logging maybe 8 to 12 hours a month. Flying with him was another form of Hell, for he thought he was the greatest pilot on earth and would frequently expound on his heroic flying exploits in Vietnam. He would impart aviation pearls to any listener and describe them as – “tricks I learned in Nam”. One such gem was to adjust the pilot’s seat as far forward as it would go. One of the first times I flew with Charlie I felt the cyclic, the primary flight control of a helicopter which is attached to the floor of the cockpit between the pilot’s legs, as it hit him in the chest while I was pulling it toward me during a modest flare during an approach to landing. This really screwed up the approach, and I had to overfly the helipad. Charlie quickly berated my flying skills, but from then on, if I got stuck flying with him, I planned approaches knowing full well his huge gut would be too close to the cyclic.

Let’s pause again for some Un-Leadership insight: Most Un-Leaders are not really very good at their chosen profession. They tend to look down their noses at training or learning more about their job. However, they generally claim to be very good at what they do. Charlie’s confidence in his flying abilities knew no bounds. He never went on training flights except to get in his minimum flight requirements. Un-Leaders believe they can intimidate their way through every situation.

Every six months the squadron check pilot from headquarters flew to our base and gave the operations officer and commander a check ride. The squadron check pilot, Captain Bill Pansy, must have given them the easiest evaluation flights possible, because neither could fly very well, yet both passed every time.

It was October before I got to leave the local flying area on a cross-country flight of nearly three hours to our squadron headquarters. I was co-pilot for the trip, and Captain Dave Evalman was the pilot. Dave was our detachment’s Chief of Flight Evaluations and had to report to headquarters to get his checkride with the squadron’s Chief of Flight Evaluations, Captain Sebastian K. Reamer, otherwise known as “Skinny Kid” or “SK” for short. I was assigned to be Dave’s co-pilot, and SK would sit in the jump seat between us and evaluate both of us.

SK was infamous in the squadron for giving incredibly difficult checkrides. Few pilots ever passed their first check flight with SK. There were ten detachments in the squadron, and I’ll bet every one of them had one or more pilots that SK had failed. Dave was not one of them. He was so good, that even SK admired him. After a grueling 2.5 hour checkride, SK was so impressed by our performance that he invited us to join him for a couple of beers at the end of the day. I knew Dave was a great pilot and a good guy, but that night I witnessed his diabolical side.

As they chatted over beers and as a 2nd Lieutenant I dutifully listened, SK complimented Dave on his piloting skills and stated it had been a pleasure to evaluate us. Dave politely accepted the compliment and responded, “Thanks, SK, but if you want to see a really top notch pilot, you should fly with Charlie Crown. He is an amazing pilot who has done it all. I am not even in the same league with him.”

I quickly realized what Dave was up to and somehow managed to not choke on my beer. SK was intrigued. Dave then proceeded to describe Charlie as the helicopter equivalent of Chuck Yeager. SK was hooked. The next morning, as we prepared for departure, we saw SK standing in front of his pilot evaluation scheduling board. “Look!” he said, “Your detachment commander and ops officer have check rides due next month. Captain Pansy has been up to your unit the last couple of times. I’ll come up this time.”

Dave merely shrugged an okay, and we calmly walked to our chopper and took off for home. Once in flight, Dave looked over at me with the biggest grin possible and said, “Oh my, what did I just stir up?”