The first time we “hit the boat, as you might imagine, was exciting. Shipboard sailors hate it when we call the carriers “boats”, but that why we smug aviators did it. Those first carrier landings are preceded by a week of Field Carrier Landing Practices (FCLP) where an outlying airfield has been equipped with a mirror system, like the one aboard the carrier.

The mirror reflects lights mounted on the stern of the ship and the reflection appears as a round ball—called a meatball—that moves up and down in the mirror depending on the aircraft being high or low during its landing approach. The FCLPs do not have arresting gear. The first time a pilot experiences that rather sudden stop is when the tail hook catches one of five cables strung across the deck and the plane comes to a rather sudden stop. Oh boy, you bet! And incidentally, those first carrier landings are flown solo.

A fellow student pilot by the name of Thomas D. Callahan III, or TD as we called him, had an interesting experience when making his first carrier landings. We flew out to the carrier in a formation of four aircraft and TD was number one in our formation.  TD was an excellent pilot and had a pilot’s license before entering the Navy.

The other three pilots in the formation, all experiencing nervous stomachs, couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw ol’ TD was so relaxed he was smoking a cigarette on the flight out to the boat.

That cigarette was about TD’s undoing, however. In order to reach the cigarette pack kept in the sleeve pocket of his flight suit, TD had to undo his shoulder harness. Once in the pattern at the ship all those procedures we had been practicing for days took over, but no where in the procedures did it suggest to reattach the shoulder harness. TD said, “Man, I came down that glide slope like I was on a rail. Meatball in the center of the mirror the whole time.” And then the hook caught, the airplane stopped, but ol’ TD didn’t.

When his face hit the instrument panel, fortunately the lowered visor on his flight helmet protected his eyes, but the bottom edge of the visor cut a neat gash across each cheek and over the bridge of his nose. With blood pooling in his lap, TD thought, “Wow, these carrier landings are tough!” Then he figured out his oversight and went on to qualify.

My first carrier landings were rather interesting as well. We were to make 6 arrested landings. My first two traps were fine, no problem. But then on the third attempt, I had a bolter. A bolter is when the tail hook bounces over the cables and the aircraft flies off the angled deck of the carrier.

The Landing Signals Officer (LSO), seeing the tail hook miss the cables, announces very enthusiastically, “Bolter, Bolter. Power and Go!” The pilot has 60 feet of drop before he hits the water.

A bolter, according to the pilot is just an unfortunate bounce and bad luck. However, the fact is good pilots don’t have bolters. The first of my bolters was an exciting experience. I darn near shoved that throttle through the firewall getting that plane back in the air. Unfortunately, that first miss was followed two more. Somehow, I was just holding the plane off the deck. I was finally waved off and sent back to base.

The next day I was assigned to do more FCLPs for practice and then the following day scheduled for another carrier qualification attempt.

Turns out that was a wonderful circumstance. I now knew what to expect and went through the routine without a hitch, making six successful arrested landings.

Prior to launch that day, we learned a class of Naval Academy cadets would be aboard the carrier observing the landings. The pilots in my formation decided to have a little fun. We all wore silk scarves and after our last landing, flipped the tail of those scarves out of the open cockpit, blowing in the prop wash. How cool we were.