I Learned about Flying from That Contributed by Greg Matte, GM

I Learned about Flying from That VFC General Manager BGen (Ret’d) Gregory C.P. Matte, CD, PhD

GM Corner There’s a fine line between fear and overconfidence when it comes to flying. In my last article, I spoke of the “danger zone” and the point in which a pilot’s overconfidence can become detrimental to their airmanship, and even possibly a risk to their life. In this article, I’ll explore the other end of the spectrum…the fear of flying, or returning to flying, as a result of a significant experience.

By now, most of you are aware of the unfortunate accident that occurred with GINH on the morning of Tuesday, February 18 th , 2020. Although the cause of the engine failure remains yet to be determined, the outcome was that a young pilot by the name of Ryan McCall and his father Warren suddenly found themselves in an emergency situation that required an immediate forced landing. If you are aware of the accident, you are also aware that this fine young man demonstrated remarkable flying skills and outstanding airmanship in executing a forced landing into a field within the Blenkinsop Valley in the western shadow of Mount Doug. The fact that he and his father walked away from the inverted airplane (as a result of snagging a set of wires in a blueberry patch on “final” to his chosen field of landing) confirms unequivocally my previous observations on his abilities as a pilot.

That said, my biggest concern after learning of the details of the accident and visiting the accident scene was to prevent Ryan from

MARCH 2020 potentially becoming drawn into the insidious world of guilt, fear and PTSD. As a side note, “survivor guilt” is one of the worst forms of PTSD, but in this case, I wanted to ensure that Ryan would be able to go forward in his life without the albatross of guilt or shame that he had done something wrong on the fateful day that GINH’s engine decided to suddenly quit in mid-flight. As such, after I met him and his father and completed the necessary interview to capture the details of the accident, I made a point of reassuring him and his father that not only had he demonstrated remarkable airmanship in the most difficult of circumstances, but that he also had absolutely no responsibility in the engine failure or the damage that resulted with GINH as a result of the forced landing. I also wanted to ensure that he hadn’t lost the fear of flying, and encouraged him to “get back up” as soon as possible… something that he did two days later with one of his most trusted Flight Instructors at the Victoria Flying Club, Bryan Taylor.

Something that few people know is that I harboured a deep-seated fear of flying for nearly two years before I commenced my Primary Flying Training on the CT-134 Muskateer at CFB Portage la Prairie during the summer of 1983. This fear had been the result of a flight with a high school friend during the summer of 1981. This same individual had recently completed his Private Pilot Licence, and had minimal experience. It was a warm summer’s day with thermals and gusty breezes. After the third attempt at landing, he finally managed to land the Cessna 152… barely. The experience infused within me a deep-seated fear of flight, a secret that I harboured for two years, but revealed to no one, as this was my career path into military college and onwards within the Canadian Armed Forces.

When I arrived at CFB Portage la Prairie in the summer of 1983, my anxiety was acute. However, my anxiety vanished the day that I undertook my first training flight in the CT-134 with my assigned instructor. The reason my anxiety (and deep-seated fear) vanished was due in large part to the professionalism, knowledge and empathy that my instructor displayed in the pre-brief classroom, then demonstrated in his thorough walk-around, flying skills and overall highly effective instructional methodology. As such, with this one flight my fear simply vanished!

Fast forward five years, and I found myself as a newly minted, combat ready CF-18 fighter pilot on 433 (ETAC) Squadron in Bagotville,

Look out for further articles in the next Patricians!

Quebec. During this era, Canada was still deeply immersed in the decades-old “cold war” with the former Soviet Union, given that Canada was a partner in NORAD and founding member of NATO. 433 Squadron was, at that time, a designated “rapid reactor” squadron within Air Command, which meant that we had to be trained to supplement our sister CF-18 Squadrons based at CFB BadenSoellingen in the former West Germany. At that time, most strategic planners in NATO expected that if the USSR attacked, they would do so through the Fulda Gap, which was within Canada’s Area of Operational Responsibility (AOR) with its NATO allies. In addition to this area, most of the inter-German border zone was known as a phalanx of sophisticated anti-aircraft defenses; everything from anti-aircraft artillery, through infrared missiles to highly lethal radar-guided anti-aircraft missiles. Our greatest defence against this formidable anti-aircraft phalanx was to fly as low as possible to avoid radar detection, thereby optimizing the element of surprise. Consequently, our training emphasized low-level tactical missions, often at 100 feet AGL and at speeds of 420 to 510 KIAS.

By the summer of 1988, I had been well trained in low-level tactical flying in both the CF-5 Freedom Fighter as well as the CF-18 Hornet whilst conducting my conversion training with 410 Squadron at CFB Cold Lake, Alberta. Once I was on 433 Squadron, the majority of my tactical flight training was conducted at low level. As such, I grew increasingly comfortable and confident flying this marvelous machine at 100 feet AGL (and below). As with my previous article about the “danger zone” and over confidence, I too became quite zealous in my flying, and incurred a few too many near-death experiences. However, the bolder I became in the cockpit, the more frequently I experienced a recurring nightmare in which I found myself flying the Hornet low level over a farmer’s field with a stand of trees at the far end. In each dream, I’m aware of the trees, but delay my pull-up resulting in a tree-strike…at which point I always awoke, usually in a cold sweat.

Naturally, the recurring nightmare bothered me, but I was unable to shake it. It wasn’t until the following year when I spoke about it with a stranger at an airshow that I came to understand the nature and meaning of this recurring nightmare…it was my subconsciousness warning me of the dangers of what I was experiencing each time I flew low level, and the requirement for me to respect the inherent dangers. When my conscious mind came to understand that my sub-conscious mind was continuously wrestling with the thin margin of error that accompanied high speed, low-level flight, I was finally able to bring the nightmares to an end. I had finally found the balance between fear and overconfidence as I made my way through my own personal "danger zone." The overriding lesson that I learned was that one must never become complacent to the inherent dangers of flight, but rather to fly within one’s own comfort level and to remain one step ahead of the aircraft.

Good airmanship includes recognizing the limits of one’s own skills, currency and comfort with the aircraft and the flying environment, and to avoid things such as “get home-itis” which will be the subject a future article. The bottom line is that flying can and should be safe as well as fun. The biggest variable in the safety equation is the pilot, with good airmanship being the mitigating factor to overcome fear and to fly safe.