Rotary Wing Flight Lesson

Before we begin, I have to get some things off my chest. I am hurt, hurt, hurt, that someone would call my helicopters ugly and that they only fly because the earth rejects and repels them. My IP’s taught me it had to do with smoke and mirrors, and I believe them. I think there was mention of rubber bands, too.

Someone evil in me just can’t resist this, DW—most fun: flying, anywhere, not only for free, but getting paid to do it!

Now, on to our instruction…

Lesson 1: Terminology

I know it can be difficult, but practice saying “rotary wing” until it flows off your tongue without sounding like “roarroarreering.” It’s much more impressive to say “rotary wing” than “helicopter.” Then, when someone asks you why it’s called a rotary wing, you can say it’s because the wings aren’t fixed, like, say, a fixed-wing.

When you become as experienced or tongue-tied as I am, we old-timers call them a helicopter. Not “chopper,” as to be confused with a Hog. Or, you could say, “I’m in a Chinook unit.” My understanding is that CH-47 Chinooks got their name from an Indian tribe and word meaning “wind.” I guess they were also called “Hooks” because in addition to the troops and cargo DW mentioned, they could also sling loads with the cargo hook. I never heard anyone in an aviation unit call us (or me, even) a “Hooker.” Of course, there weren’t many of us (wimmen folks) flying them back then, and I guess the guys might have taken offense to it. Hmmm, matter of fact, Hubby would probably knock someone flat on their behind if someone called him that, even jokingly. Anyway, when you get really, really good, you just say “I’m a –47 driver.” Everybody that’s anybody knows what you mean.

Back in my day (when dinosaurs roamed the earth, as Holly would say), we still had Huey-drivers. Those of us that hadn’t transitioned into the Chinooks yet were constantly told that “skids are for kids.” Ha ha. When I went to flight school, we were first taught on a TH-55. They look very similar to what Dave Berry was describing. (By the way, there really is an organization called the “Whirly Girls.” I had a chance to become a charter member back when I was young and inexperienced. Should have taken them up on the offer so no one would question my orders.) It was a two-seater, and anyone with claustrophobia hoped their training was in the summer so the doors would be off.

“T” stood for “training,” and “H” was for “helicopter.” You know the military, everything has to be designated something. So there’s A for Attack, B for Bomber, C for Cargo, F for Fighter, U for Utility. (And all this time you thought A was for Alpha, B was for Bravo, C was for Charlie…) We had a lot of good stories in flight school: There I was, in my AH-55, 5000 feet, the enemy hot after me…

Ok, I think that’s enough information for now. I don’t want to overwhelm myself, I mean, you, with too much all at once.

BossMan says it’s time for me to get my behind over to the house and get to cleaning. The Inspector is coming tomorrow and the Appraiser on Tuesday. Boss is getting a touch hespis and wants things perfect. (Gee, I sure hope it doesn’t make any difference if the place still isn’t completed.)

Flight instruction will resume……some day.

Flo