CARRIER APPROACH IN A CESSNA
by William Thomas
The closest I ever got to flying off carriers as a fledgling midshipman was sitting in the front seat of a grounded F-4 Phantom (which seemed as big as a B-25 and probably was). And later walking Yorktown's flight deck at dawn while covering Marquette’s NROTC drill team during Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
The only overhead carrier-style approach and landing I ever flew was in a Cessna…
Flying into Victoria International Airport one blue sky afternoon, the tower broke into my fat, dumb and happy reverie to ask if I could "expedite your landing for commercial traffic on long final."
Since I was still on my downwind leg and had not yet turned towards the runway a thousand feet below my right wing, this was an interesting request. The proper response would have been a laconic Steve Canyon, “Roger”.
But having reacted immediately to the tower’s interrogative, I was already too busy for chit-chat. Even as I clicked the mic button twice, I was pulling on carb heat, chopping power, and raising the nose to bleed off airspeed to safe flap lowering speed.
I was also rolling the always-willing 150 into a steep descending right turn, titling the ground below like a funhouse ride and courting yet another fatal classic stall-spin crash as the Cessna’s drastically increased angle-of-attack (to the onrushing airstream) sent the airplane’s stall speed rocketing upwards to match my current velocity.
No worries. Because at the same time I was pushing the yoke hard forward, shoving that bright red cowling toward the Earth rotating under me.
Still holding Two Two Tango’s nose down to prevent the sharp pitch-up and possible stall that must otherwise follow sudden flap extension, with my right hand I reached down to the long lever on the floor beside my seat, depressed the lock, and pulled it all the way up like a buggy brake.
Whoa Nelly! The airplane sagged as if it had flown into an invisible air bag in the sky. (This “old fashioned” instant and precise flap response was why I preferred Two Two Tango’s “obsolete” flap handle to her rental sister’s more “modern” — and slower — electronic flap switch.)
Like a startled thoroughbred, the two-seat trainer tried to pitch up. Only to find a firm hand on the reins.
Things were happening fast and while staying relaxed, I had to keep up. In a normal “right downwind” approach, you fly toward the end of the runway and start letting down before passing the runway threshold. Then pull on the carburetor heat to prevent icing and a gut-churning sound of silence (Yup, even on a summer day, if there’s enough condensation in the air.)
Oh, and while you’re doing all this, don’t forget to set an initial 10-degrees of flaps.
Keep going. And mind that crosswind drift wafting you toward or away from the runway. At an appropriate distance beyond your landing spot — a turn point determined by student pilot guesswork and prayer — commence a descending 90-degree turn toward the runway you dare land on.
Still in that descending glide, level the wings. Maintain this base leg until the runway starts to slide toward the righthand side of the windscreen. Then repeat another more or less right-angle turn, rolling out with the runway — hopefully — somewhere over the nose. If you‘re too high or low, adjust. Then, without further fuss or drama, simply continue flying the airplane on down to the terra firma it normally shuns. Remembering not to crash, of course.
Easy peasy, right?
I’d always wanted to try a circling, carrier-style approach, in which the landing aircraft commits just abeam the flight deck’s “round down” and commences a nearly continuous circling descent.
Now I was being asked to go for it for real!
Yeah, baby. Forget flying the standard “square” base-leg and turn to final. I was as busy as a one-armed paper-hanger keeping airspeed, rate-of-descent and bank angle within limits as the ground rushed and rotated towards me.
Sideways.
With those big Fowler flaps extended all the way aft and down, (increasing wing area and drag, while drastically lowering stalling speed), the baby Cessna came down like a dive bomber at Midway.
Did I mention that things were happening at the double-quick? All at once, in multiple dimensions? Having waited so long for this opportunity, my body knew what to do. Aiming well short of the runway, I leveled off just shy of the weeds and crammed on full power, dragging the “draggy” airplane toward the fast-approaching tarmac.
Clattering over the approach lights on their sturdy raised metal stanchions, I started the flare just as the runway’s raised lip passed beneath my wheels. Definitely not a standard — or even a carrier — approach. But hey, I’d been asked to “expedite”. And a seriously short field landing seemed called for.
Leveling off perhaps six-inches above the fleeting concrete (hidden behind Two Two Tango’s nose), I chopped the power. Barely hanging on its prop, the Cessna 150 instantly stopped flying.
A sharp jolt and we were down. Through sheer blind luck and the grace of the humoring gods, I’d dropped the airplane onto the runway well short of the numbers. Rumble rumble went the wheels. A wonderful sound after such an action-packed denouement to another hour aloft.
Feeding in left aileron to compensate for a slight left crosswind, I pulled the yoke into my stomach to unload the nose gear and I jabbed both toe brakes hard — released — and got on the binders again. At the same time, having nothing better to do, I reached down and fully retracted those big beautiful Fowler flaps.
The airplane was all done flying. As Two Two Tango quickly slowed to a walking pace, I made the first turn-off, which was not intended for normal airplanes already landing past it from this direction. But hey. A fledgling’s gotta do what’s he’s been asked.
The airline whose twin commuter jet had been fast overtaking me saved a ton of money, time and passenger unhappiness by not having to go around.
Best of all was the attaboy broadcast over the tower frequency for everyone in the area to hear. Professional controllers rarely compliment pilots. Except when one of them pulls off a near-flawless short field approach and landing on special request.
Five decades later, this sweet feeling of accomplishment still warms my memories.
Photo-Captions
Landing a Cessna on an aircraft carrier -youtube.com
Short field approach -boldmethod.com