Basher Five-Two Read Free

wing was an air-to-air missile along with a 500-pound laser-guided bomb; each wingtip held another air-to-air missile. In the fuselage was a 20-mm Gatling gun, for use if an enemy plane came within close range or if I had to fly low to fire at a land target. Since our missions over Bosnia were more defensive than offensive, and because we wanted to be as light and as fuel efficient as possible, we didn’t carry the four additional 500-pound bombs an F-16 normally held. They were hardly necessary. While I wasn’t looking forward to combat, I knew I was ready for any hostile situation.
    One unique feature of the F-16 was the one-piece bubble canopy that sat over the entire cockpit. Its sleek shape acted as a perfect windscreen, and it allowed a pilot clear views in almost all directions. For strength and resilience the canopy was made of a high-tech material called polycarbonate. If an unfortunate bird was to find itself on collision course with the canopy—a common problem inthe sky—the polycarbonate wouldn’t shatter dangerously the way the old cast-acrylic canopies had. Instead, it would absorb the impact of the bird by bending inward, then magically reshape itself. It may sound silly, but to make sure the polycarbonate canopies were “bird safe,” the aircraft manufacturer tested them by shooting four-pound frozen chickens out of a high-speed cannon, hitting the canopies at over 300 miles per hour! While safe from a shattering canopy, a pilot in the air still faced the danger of the momentary dent left by the flying bird. If a plane was moving at 500 miles or more, a good-sized turkey vulture could actually hit the canopy hard enough to knock out a pilot. That’s why it was necessary to maintain some distance—the size of your fist, at least—between your head and the bottom of the canopy.
    The cockpit of the F-16 was not exactly designed with extra luxury room. As I climbed in and straddled my legs around the center instrument console, I placed my feet on the rudder pedals and strapped myself in. The snug cockpit fits like a glove. It also makes you feel as if you’re part of the sky. Unlike the cockpits in other fighters, the F-16’s cockpit projects out and over the front of the plane, so most of the fuselage is below and behind you. With the gorgeous views from the one-piece canopy, sometimes you’re tempted to forget you’re even in a plane.
    I plugged my air hose into my G suit. When I startedmaking sharp turns in the sky and the G forces kicked in, the air hose would automatically turn on and fill the various pockets or bladders of my G suit—two on each leg and one at my stomach. Filled with air, the G suit was another way to help keep blood from flowing from my head into the rest of my body. After inserting the air hose, I hooked my shoulder harness clips to my parachute risers. Clipped to my hips was a canvas package that contained a survival rucksack, a deflated life raft, and a small “hit and run” secondary survival kit. This package was part of the seat pan on which I sat. If I ever had to eject from the plane and use my parachute, the seat pan, along with my entire seat, would fall away, but the canvas package would stay clipped to my hips. It contained the gear that, if the parachute landed me safely, I would need to survive.
    After fastening my lap belt, I put on my helmet and oxygen mask. With a thumbs-up signal to the ground crew chief to pull away my cockpit ladder, I made a final review of my lineup card, which detailed my flight mission information.
    “Fore and aft clear … fire guard posted … chocks in place?” I asked over the intercom to the crew chief. Chocks were blocks that were placed in front of the wheels so that the plane wouldn’t roll.
    “Roger,” he answered. “All ready for run-up.”
    I turned on two switches, one for electrical power andthe other to start a small engine that would, in a few moments, turn over the main jet engine. My left hand moved the