Page 68 - Never Fly Solo

OVER-G | 41
I cringed as I pondered what my wingmen at Vance would
think of me. Waldo, the slacker. Waldo, the hotdogger. What
a punk. I don’t want to fly with that guy.
And then I thought to myself, what if my twin brother
were to fly that jet tomorrow and the wing fell off? What if
my best friend in the squadron got into a spin he couldn’t
recover from and had to bail out? Would the seat eject prop-
erly? Or were the ejection rails bent just enough to cause a
malfunction? What if I caused a hairline crack in the airframe,
invisible to the eye, that would cause the plane to break apart
in flight? My choice became instantly clear. But trust me, that
didn’t mean it was easy to act on.
I declared the emergency.
“State nature of emergency,” the tower controller replied.
“Uh, over-G,” I replied with a slight pause. I had a feeling
they knew I had messed around in the jet.
I nervously pondered my demise as I landed and slowly
taxied back to the parking area. I debriefed the maintenance
crew and operations officer and was directed to the office of
my squadron commander, where I had a very intimate “come
to Jesus” meeting (a rather big deal for a Jewish guy!).
Let’s just say Lieutenant Colonel Stallworth wasn’t
pleased.
My actions were irresponsible and showed a serious lack
of discipline. I had also put myself and others in an unsafe
situation. Not only was I severely reprimanded, I was
grounded from flying for two weeks, the length of time the jet
would be out of commission. I also had to present a briefing
to the squadron on the twenty-five-thousand-dollar mainte-
nance procedure necessary to inspect the jet for structural
damage. Fortunately, the inspection revealed no damage to
the aircraft. Still, I had cost my wingmen valuable training