Chapter 3 Part 1 Charlie's Check Ride

Bryce Canyon, Utah - photo by JoAnn Sturman

by S.R. Oberst

Charlie Crown, the ultimate unleader and a pilot of marginal ability, has been set up by pilots in his unit. The squadron flight evaluation officer, SK, has been told Charlie's piloting abilities are without peer, so he has flown from headquarters to see how good Charlie really is.

We never said a word to Charlie about arranging to have SK give him a surprise check ride. When it was announced that the Squadron Chief of Flight Evaluations would arrive in November for check rides, Charlie seemed nonplussed.

Time for another Un-Leadership Moment: Most Un-Leaders do not have any real friends. If they have a friend, it tends to be someone just like them, which means it is someone who is looking out for “me” first. Virtually every pilot in the entire squadron knew that a check ride with SK was something to be taken seriously, which meant hit the books and take some training flights to get ready. 1) as mentioned earlier Charlie had a disdain for training; 2) Charlie had no friends; and 3) his non-friends were rooting for SK.

The evaluation cycle alternated every six months for pilots depending on their birth month. One of the evaluations was basic flight operations including emergency procedures. The other, for which Charlie was due, was an instrument flying and search and rescue evaluation. Most pilots would admit that the Huey is not exactly an ideal instrument platform. This is why most would usually avoid flying in the clouds. This included Charlie, who was known to brag that he once hovered downward in the “cone of confusion” over a VOR in order to descend through clouds from above.

A note to the reader: A VOR is a VHF Omnidirectional Range ground station used for instrument flight navigation. The cone of confusion is the area directly over the VOR evidenced by the swinging of the bearing pointer until the aircraft passes over the VOR and the bearing changes 180 degrees.

Strangely on the day of THE Check Ride, many of the other pilots in my unit had sinus infections, an easily obtainable diagnosis from the Flight Surgeon as an excuse for not flying. So, guess which “dummy” got to be Charlie’s copilot for the evaluation? Me, of course.

SK arrived mid-morning and THE Check Ride was scheduled for a 1:00 PM takeoff. Charlie was at his best talking, so he did a marvelous job of conducting the pre-flight briefing for a simulated instrument flight with two instrument approaches followed by a simulated search and rescue mission for a lost hiker in the mountains west of the base. Charlie was wise enough not to use his standard intimidation tactics on SK and all was going well as we headed for the aircraft. Weather was fairly typical for a November day in the Dakotas with a 1,000 foot level of overcast, temperature about 40 degrees F, and winds of 20 knots gusting to 30 knots. No precipitation was forecast, and the freezing level was about 3,000 feet above ground level.

After we did a pre-flight check of the helicopter, call-sign Beaver 72, Charlie’s problems began. For most pilots who flew a lot, it mattered little whether you were in the left or right seat. Charlie flew very little, but when he did, he always flew from the left seat. When he attempted to get in the left side, SK told him that the aircraft commander must fly in the right seat. I could tell Charlie was not happy, but SK was not about to bend the rules. Usually if pilots had difficulty transitioning between seats it was when practicing emergency procedures. EPs were not planned for this evaluation, so I thought to myself “no big deal”.

Charlie fumbled his way through the start checklist, and we contacted the Air Traffic Control controller on the radio. Charlie’s plan was to fly to the VOR and get clearance for his two approaches. He also planned to stay below the clouds and fly under visual flight rules (VFR). Charlie lifted off and immediately struggled against the wind. It was a sloppy hover from the hangar area to the helipad, but we managed to get there and takeoff. Charlie again contacted the controller and asked for clearance to the VOR. “Roger Beaver 72, climb to 2,000 feet and proceed to the Northern VOR and hold. We’ll get to you in about 15 minutes” said the controller. Charlie was caught off guard. He did not want to go into the clouds, especially on a checkride, so he replied, “This is Beaver 72, negative! Request climb to 1,000 feet.” The controller responded, “Negative Beaver 72, climb to 2,000 feet.” After some more pleading, Charlie finally agreed to the higher climb. Then, of course, he told me to take the controls, climb to 2,000 feet and head for the VOR while he got out the instrument flight book to plan for his unplanned holding pattern.

I focused on the instruments and did a reasonable job of flying in the clouds to the VOR. Just before we get to the VOR, Charlie took the controls back to enter the holding pattern. Holding patterns are shaped like a race track and depicted on various flight instrument charts. The idea is to adjust your outbound flight time so that the distance of the outbound leg equals the distance of the inbound leg. This meant Charlie needed to adjust for the wind. I watched as Charlie proceeded on his outbound course for 1 minute directly into the wind. As the copilot, I appropriately suggested a longer outbound leg due to the winds. Charlie responded “I know what I’m doing, Dummy!” and ignored me. When he turned right to go inbound to the VOR, we were immediately over it. Remember those 20 knot winds back on the ground? Up 2,000 feet they were more like 60 or 70 knot winds. I alerted Charlie that we were over the VOR. Seemingly surprised, he started to turn left, caught his mistake and made a steep turn back to the right. Steep turns are not a smart thing to do in the clouds with a helicopter. Charlie struggled to stay on his altitude, airspeed and heading. Once again he went outbound for only a minute. To make this story shorter, we were over the VOR for 15 minutes before the controller mercifully cleared us for an ILS approach to runway 30 at Northern. Charlie never came close to executing a holding pattern. The ILS approach was so erratic the controller asked if we needed assistance. All the while, SK sat in the jump seat observing but not saying a word.

Next: Charlie's troubles continue