Leaning conspiratorially across the counter, Bennett whispered, "Listen. I wouldn't want this to get around, but I applied for the Marines myself back in Pensacola."
Bear squinted suspiciously. "Oh?"
"Yup. But when they found out my parents were married I was disqualified on the spot." Both men laughed. It was an old joke, probably as old as the Corps.
"All right, Skipper. What can I do for you?"
"I got caught up with my paperwork and figured I'd combine a proficiency flight with a look at how one of the cadets performs. They're all soloed now from Class One."
Bear reached back to the wall, pulled a clipboard off the rack, and scanned the pages. "Once an ops officer, always an ops officer," he said with a moan. He had the operations desk this month, an assignment held in rotation by those IPs not yet flying with students full-time. "Sure, you could put in some time with one of the boys in an extra hop. You'll have to make it clear it's not a checkride. A lot of these Arabs get real skittish about that sort of thing." He put down the first clipboard and thumbed through the aircraft availability chart. Two-seat F-20s still were arriving, and the allotment was not yet filled. "I'm not sure there's a B model available right now. Maintenance is busy with the new birds, checking them out."
"Well, my lad, how about 001? You remember-the bird our employer, His Highness in Riyadh, so kindly purchased for my sport and amusement? Last time I flew her, she still had my name on the canopy rail."
Barnes bowed and touched his forehead. "I hear, your magnificence, and I obey. I'll have the wrench-benders put 001 on the ramp for an 0630 launch. Any particular student you want to fly?"
"Anybody who's not slated for academics. I want to fly with at least three students per class from now on. Which section is free in the morning?"
Barnes flipped through yet another clipboard. "Second section is off. The section duty officer is Halid; alternate is Hamir."
"Good. I'll take Rajid Hamir. I hear good things about him." Bennett walked into the ops office at 0545 next morning, already dressed in flight suit and boots. He carried his G-suit, torso harness, and helmet bag, preferring not to wear them until ready to fly.
Rajid Hamir was already there, scratching earnestly at his paperwork on the table provided for flight planning. He rose when Bennett entered, and stood at attention.
"Good morning, Mr. Hamir. Ready to fly?"
"Yes, sir. I am preparing the forms now."
Bennett smiled, setting his baggage on a chair. "You know, about the time I got out of the Navy, we said that you couldn't fly until the paperwork equaled the empty weight of the airplane. I like it better here, where all we need is a flight plan and takeoff data."
"Sir, I am computing the takeoff roll and weight-and-balance figures. "
Bennett looked over the student's shoulder. The flight plan was complete, with each square neatly filled in. Noting the youngster's circular computer, Bennett sat down and tapped Rajid's calculator watch. "You go ahead and finish the density altitude, but I'll show you its effect when we're airborne."
Density altitude was especially important to flying in the Middle East. In hot climates, basic physics dictate the amendments to the law of gravity. The molecules in warm air expand apart from each other, contrary to cold-air molecules, which crowd together for comfort. Consequently, hot air generates less lift than cool air because the molecular density is not as great.
This phenomenon is called density altitude. An aircraft taking off from an airport at I,100 feet above sea level, with a temperature of I15 degrees Fahrenheit, uses the, same length of runway as during a standard day at over 5,000 feet. But not only takeoff is affected. Every flight regime-climb rate, dive recovery, turn radius-is similarly affected.
Fifty minutes later the two-seat fighter was airborne, tucking its tricycle landing gear neatly away and accelerating into the cooler upper air. Flying in the front seat, Rajid demonstrated what he had learned thus far: turns, climbs, and descents. Bennett noted the boy's movements usually were smooth and precise. There was little tendency to overcontrol, despite the Tigershark's sensitive boosted controls.
"All right, Mr. Hamir. I've got it." Bennett wiggled the stick in the instructor's cockpit to indicate he had control. "You remember what we learned about density altitude? Well, watch your altimeter. We're at fourteen thousand five hundred feet, straight and level at three hundred fifty knots. Ordinarily the airplane will complete a split-S in about five thousand five hundred feet under these conditions. Here we go."
In one fluid movement Bennett rolled the Northrop on its back and pulled the stick into his stomach. The little fighter plummeted downward, recovering into level flight on a reciprocal heading from its entry. "What does your altimeter say?"
"Seven thousand six hundred feet, sir."
"Correct. That was a three-and-one-half-G pull-through, and we lost about seven thousand feet. So you see the effect of density altitude, even up here in cooler air." Rajid's helmet bobbed up and down, indicating comprehension.
"Very well," Bennett said, "take us home."
Rajid looked over his left shoulder, clearing himself for the port turn. He reefed it in tighter than the standard-rate turn he had been taught.
Bennett was pleased. Kid likes to pull Gs. Outstanding.
They entered the traffic pattern on a forty-five degree angle into the downwind leg. Rajid lowered gear and flaps, set up his approach speed, and hit his turning points for base leg and final within fifty feet of prescribed altitudes. "This will be a touch-and-go," Bennett radioed.
The tower acknowledged.
Rajid's touchdown was within the first third of the runway, slightly right-hand tire first. He let the mains settle on, allowed the nose to settle slightly, and advanced the throttle. Lifting off, he accelerated into a nose-high attitude, retracted gear and flaps, and turned left onto the crosswind leg.
Bennett shook the stick again. "I've got it this time. I'll show you something about this bird's slow-flight characteristics. Now, what controls airspeed?"
Rajid thought for two seconds. "Pitch and power."
"Right. If you have zero pitch, or angle of attack, what happens?"
"You fly faster. For the same throttle setting you fly faster. If you reduce power you lose altitude."
Bennett turned onto the downwind leg, leveling off at pattern altitude.· "Now, you know that you can maintain a steady rate of descent at a given power setting with a certain pitch angle. Like you do on final approach to landing. But you can also fly slowly while maintaining altitude with a bit more power."
Rajid just nodded, uncertain where this was leading. Bennett had discussed the situation with Rajid's instructor, being careful not to upset the boy's training. Now he demonstrated his point: Anyone can fly fast. It takes an aviator to fly as slowly as possible.
"Mr. Hamir, I'm pulling the nose up thirty degrees. We'll start to settle at this reduced power setting, won't we?"
"Yes, sir. Unless we add more throttle."
"Exactly right! So here we go." Bennett carefully jockeyed stick and throttle until the F-20 settled into a nose-high attitude, maintaining level flight. "We're doing about a hundred and thirty knots, and I'll see if we can keep that speed all the way down." At each ninety-degree turn he lowered the nose slightly, avoiding the natural tendency to bleed off airspeed in the corners.
"You see there? By leaving the throttle alone, we're controlling our airspeed and rate of descent with pitch. If I set this up right, we'll maintain this rate of descent onto the numbers."
With the nose cocked up, the Tigershark came around on final with the gear and flaps still retracted. Bennett extended the wheels and flaps immediately after rolling out on final approach, adjusting stick and throttle to compensate for the increased drag. He maintained the nose-high descent almost to the runway lip, flying the airplane onto the white-painted numbers well below normal landing speed.