Ride of my life in an F-16

  • Published
  • By Andrea V. Mason
  • 388th Public Affairs Office
HILL AIR FORCE BASE, Utah --  "Okay, Andrea, are you ready?" asked Col. Rick LeBlanc, vice commander of the 388th Fighter Wing, just after the bubble canopy locked into place and we took to the runway.

Was I ready? I sure felt ready. I'll admit, I grew up repeatedly watching Top Gun, formerly worked for the Navy and now for an Air Force fighter wing, and I spent the last couple weeks physically and mentally preparing for the flight.

I was ready, but felt a bit on edge. Why did I, a public affairs specialist, get to fly in a state-of-the-art fighter jet? Because it's important that I understand what the wing does for our nation's defense.

The tower cleared us for takeoff. The F-16's afterburner was blazing, and suddenly I felt as though I was sitting atop a rocket ship. It was surreal.

As we steadily soared out to the Utah Test and Training Range to perform an air-to-ground support mission, I reflected on all it took to get me here, and it wasn't just that afterburner.

My F-16 experience began with a medical examination by the 75th Air Base Wing's flight surgeon to ensure I was capable of handling the rigors of flying in a high performance aircraft. They suggested I hydrate well, deter from any greasy and dairy foods and practice G-force breathing by taking in short, sharp breaths every two seconds with a pronounced "k" sound.

The physical went well. The flight surgeon, Lt. Col. Daniel Smith, talked with me and examined my ears and lungs.

"You're good to go," he said. "Now go enjoy the ride of your life," he said.

Next on the agenda was training that would prepare me for a worst case scenario, ejection training, which I think was more frightening than the flight itself. I climbed into a makeshift cockpit wearing a harness that's connected to a parachute, a flight helmet and oxygen mask. I was strapped in with a series of seat belts, buckles and harnesses and familiarized myself with the inside of the cockpit.

The trainer pointed to the yellow handle between my legs. When pulled or if the pilot pulls his, you'll shoot out of the cockpit and a parachute will fly open.

The command to pull the yellow handle is, "Bail out, bail out, bail out," and those words I'll never forget since it means to quickly eject from the jet.

Equally compelling was learning about how to escape the jet while on the ground. That cue is, "Egress, egress, egress."

I was shown how to release all of my belts and connections with a two-one-two-one approach. Taking the oxygen mask off was hard enough; let alone making sure my parachute lines aren't crossed, but eventually I did it.

Largely unseen is the careful preparation required before an F-16 leaves its blocks.

"You can see we just don't go out there and jump in the jet," LeBlanc said.

Each aircraft has a crew chief. Even in Utah's blazing hot or freezing cold temperatures, the maintenance team must carefully check around the jet searching for any cracks in the fan blades after a flight.

When the crew chief strapped me in, he assured me the jet was in great shape to fly; it felt really satisfying hearing those words.

There are also lengthy briefings and planning sessions before each mission, a review of videos afterward, as well as strategy sessions, intelligence sessions and training sessions.

The mission we performed, close-air-support, requires excellent coordination with the ground forces.

I noticed how clear, concise communication was vital during this mission and said to Col. LeBlanc that it seemed our airpower was very dependent upon the ground forces directing him to the hostile target.

On the flip side, he said, it shows just how dependent they are on what we do up here; if they can't succinctly talk us to the target, we can't pull the trigger.

"Close-air-support is a team effort, and working together is critical," LeBlanc said.

After the mission, he took me out to a cleared airspace to show me the capability of the viper.

Soon, we flew sideways and upside down, did a few barrel rolls, loops, and he gave me the stick just for a moment and let me fly on my own.

The control stick of an F-16 is so sensitive that it moves only an eighth of an inch. I try to maneuver it like a joy stick, do a couple barrel rolls, and then I quickly passed it back to the pilot to avoid testing out my bail out skills.

My favorite portion of the flight was when we slowed to about 300 knots, or about 360 mph, and only 600 feet above the earth. Then, in just a few quick seconds, we rocketed to about 11,000 feet into the sky. My head snapped back, but the smile on my face remained. Roller coasters will never be the same.

Lastly, we pulled 7Gs - or seven times the force of gravity - and I was suctioned to the seat but somehow remembered my breathing. Since G forces swiftly draw blood away from the head and toward the ankles, this can lead to G-LOC, or gravity induced loss of consciousness. To counter the force, I clenched my arm, leg and stomach muscles and did the G-force breathing.

After an exhilarating 90 minutes in the air, we landed. It was a smoother landing than I anticipated, and I was thrilled to complete the F-16 flight without and having to use any disposable, airsick bags in my G-suit.

Throughout the years, I safaried in east Africa, snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef, explored the Roman Coliseum, skied double-black diamonds, zip lined through a tropical forest in Hawaii, but surely nothing compares to the simultaneous excitement, fright and awe of flying in an F-16.

Now when I hear the sound of the jet zooming by my office window, I find myself beaming. It's not just that because I flew in it, but it's because I really get it, much more than I did before.

There's so much more behind that roar - it's the awesome power of the jet, and the disciplined teamwork of everyone it took to get that jet up in the sky. To me, it's the sound of freedom, and my backseat ride of a lifetime showed me that we're ready to defend that freedom anytime.

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