“No, Admiral. I just eat a lot of hot dogs. I survived on them all through flight school. Admiral, you ever flown in a Tomcat before?”
“Never:”
“Let’s get you in the cockpit, first, sir.”
Shearson pointed Pacino to the wheeled ladder to the cockpit high above the concrete. Pacino looked down over the top of the wings of the two-engined craft with its twin tails, the wings extended outward but designed to be pulled in tight into a delta-wing configuration. It was astonishing how big it was. Pacino swore it was bigger than his twelve-passenger Gulfstream. He looked down into the cramped cockpit, the seat little more than an olive-drab section of canvas stretched across aluminum tubing. A flight helmet sat on the seat, shiny and new, two silver stars across the top, the words PATCH engraved in black letters. “Compliments of the squadron boss. Captain Tomb, sir. He said he knew you at the academy.” Pacino smiled, remembering. “Tell him I said thanks.”
“If you’ll climb in, sir. That’s good.”
Pacino stepped into the cockpit, feeling like he was stepping into an electronic canoe, the side consoles and front display bursting with toggle switches and function keys, the display glowing electronically green. Pacino was careful to avoid hitting any of the electronics of the consoles, and found himself sitting deep inside the airplane, the sills of the cockpit rising all the way to the top of his shoulders. He felt like a child in an amusement park ride, too short to see out. He was completely surrounded, enveloped, by the consoles and screens and displays of the rear cockpit. He pulled on the flight helmet at Shearson’s prompting, further sucked into the tight world of the aircraft. Now that he was here, he thought, the interior of a nuclear submarine would always seem roomy by comparison. “Now, sir, let me strap you in. This is a five point harness. The release mechanism is here.
Now, see this lever here?” A red ribbon attached to a pin was attached to a yellow and black striped lever set deep into the bulkhead opposite Shearson. “I’m pulling the pin out of it. It’s armed now, sir, so be careful not to touch it. That’s the manual canopy release, just in case we need to eject and the automatic sequence doesn’t blow off the canopy.
There are two ways to eject, Admiral. The first way, the better way, is to pull that cord above your head. See it?” A yellow and black bungee cord was wrapped into the ejection seat headrest, two loops of it extending out on either side of Pacino’s helmet. “Can you grab that for me? Good sir. If we need to punch out, you pull that cord down to your crotch, all the way down, and the curtain in the headrest will come down over your head. The curtain protects your face and head while it keeps your elbows in tight.”
“What’s the other way?”
“See the D-shaped ring by your crotch? You can pull that up, but it’s not as good. Your oxygen mask and helmet would be ripped off in the slipstream, and there’s no guarantee for your face.”
“Why is it here then?”
“If we’re in a high-g spin, even Hercules? might not be able to lift his arms up to the curtain cord, so the second one is down low.”
“Comforting thought.”
“Yes, sir. Now, if you pull the curtain down, count to fifty by thousands and you’ll be out of the plane. It only takes three seconds, which is how long it would take you to count to fifty when you’re pumped up with adrenaline.”
“Okay.”
“Now, if I want you to punch out, I’ll call ‘eject, eject, eject,’ and out we go. If you’re unconscious, you’re going anyway.”
“Great.”
“Water bottle is here, snack pack is over here, and this is the urine bag. You put this tube around your thing and let go, then seal it like this. It goes into this pouch when you’re done.
Just make sure the velcro holds it in the outer pouch, sir. Spilled urine can mess up the avionics.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Last piece of advice, sir. If you have gas, there’s no such thing as being polite aloft. I recommend you try to fart out anything you feel, as hard as you can. Otherwise the altitude will give you one hell of a bellyache.”
“I can handle it.”
“Vomit bags are in this pouch. Whatever happens, do not throw up in your oxygen mask. The rule is, you have to clean up your own, even flag officers, sir. Sorry.”
Pacino laughed. “Let’s go.”
