Get Out: My date with ’Bert

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

By Benjamin R. Bombard

A fellow journalist and I were walking across the apron at Fanning Field Airport in Idaho a couple weeks ago.

“Ya know, you live your life and certain things come your way that you find yourself doing,” I observed, “and you never had the slightest notion that you’d ever do that thing in your life. That right there was one of those things.” My colleague was in total agreement.

We’d just deplaned from a C-130T at the Idaho Falls Air Show on July 25, and we were still heady from the experience. Basically, the Lockheed C-130 is a four-engine turboprop transport plane used by militaries around the world: Think a Boeing 737 with the seats ripped out, a retracting rear hatch, turboprops instead of jet turbines and complimentary puke bags instead of peanuts.

This particular C-130T bears the sobriquet Fat Albert, or ‘Bert, and he provides logistical support for the famous U.S. Navy Blue Angels flight demo team. ‘Bert was piloted by a pair of dapper Marine Corps pilots wearing sleek blue flight suits that inspired as much envy in me as they did lust in my special lady friend when I showed her pictures later.

Before boarding ‘Bert, I and six other intrepid journalists were debriefed out on the apron by USMC Captain Ben Blanton. Blanton is blessed with the ability to maintain perfect diction while speaking at the rate of a hog auctioneer. Here’s a little taste of his debriefing: “We’re going to do a low transition, max power, and climb to simulate taking off from a short runway.

I’m gonna accelerate the airplane until we reach flying speed and I’m gonna take it flying about five feet off the ground [with the landing gear up!]. I’m going to continue to accelerate and once I’ve got it to almost 200 miles per hour, I’m gonna pitch up at 45 degrees into a dramatic climb, I’m gonna trade that airspeed for altitude and you’re gonna feel that as the Gs come on. Then, as we rapidly approach stall speed, I’m gonna push over and you’re gonna feel zero G.”

Like clockwork, we boarded the plane at 14:30 and strapped ourselves into the blue cushioned seats lining either side of the plane’s otherwise hollow fuselage. The only thing holding us down was a single waist-strap seatbelt. Meanwhile, the three U.S. Navy guys keeping watch over us civilians during flight were secured by absolutely zilch, just standing there, holding onto the wall.

We shot down the runway and then pulled up, and, just like Blanton said, the Gs came on, two or three of them. When Blanton pushed ‘Bert over the Gs went negative, the soldiers floated perpendicular in space. Any fear I had before taking off must have left a mark there on the apron. Flying in ‘Bert at 370 miles per hour above a crowd of 40,000 people, rolling and pitching and yawing through Idaho Falls airspace, watching landlocked features scream by outside the window as we banked and flew just 60 feet off the ground – all that was a rush on par with sky diving or sticking my hand up a girl’s shirt for the first time.

Blanton pushed ‘Bert to his maximum capabilities for 10 full minutes, and the props thrummed at a frequency and volume that seemed to churn the blood in veins. Stumbling off the airplane after landing, my shirt soaked through with sweat, I shook Blanton’s hand with all the gratitude my tiny hands could muster for a ride I had never dreamed of taking. JHW

Courtesy photo
Fat Albert Airlines at the Idaho Falls Air Show.


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Get Out: My date with ’Bert | Planet JH News Article: Sports & Recreation

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