The other fighter plane comes almost head-on into me and passes to the left. I pull on the stick, go vertical, craning my neck up in order not to lose sight of the enemy. On top of the half-loop, almost weightless, I roll the plane and dive on the EA which breaks hard left in front of me. No way to come into his six now, a series of manouevres is developing.

The San Gabriel mountains on the horizon spin wildly and during dives you seem to go straight into the supertankers in the pacific which are heading for Long Beach. "Now turn inside him" comes the advice from the Co-Pilot and thats what I do. Loaded with adrenaline I disregard the shaking of the stick when breaking too hard. "Gentle, don't buffet the plane" comes the Co-Pilot and I push the stick a bit forward.

We are now behind the enemy in a 80° left bank, but not in a firing position. I crank my machine into a Low-Yo-Yo and when pulling up, the G-forces take a brutal grip on us. I shrink in my seat, my head with the helmet weights tons, looking up through the canopy to the enemy is difficult. He has literally vanished in the glare ot the sun. "Here he comes, knock him off" goes the excited voice in the headset.

Yeah, I zoom up from the enemies 8 o'clock low, I can see him now, close through the spinning disk of the prop in front of me. "Tracking, tracking" comes from the headset as I put the gunsight on him. I pull the trigger and after a two second burst the plane is trailing smoke and breaking away. As we glide through his smoke-trail and prop-wash, I let out a cry of excitement, thriumph, relief and hear a "whowh, this was beautifull, we will have some great guncam footage" in the intercom.

My mind still has problems catching up with reality: Here I am, in the first REAL dogfight of my life and its AWESOME !! Welcome to Air Combat USA.

Background

When I first heard about it, years ago on german TV and flight magazines, I knew I had to do it. With Air Combat USA (Los Angeles) you fly WWII style dogfights in little Marchetti prop trainers (remember them from Janes FA?) without the need for a pilot license. For us ordinary flight simmers its the only way to come closer to the reality behind our favourite pastime.

When driving up Fullerton Airport you already see the handful of SF260 trainers in their blue-grey camo on the flight line. I walk up the office and introduce myself to Mike Blackstone, founder and president of the company. He tells me what packages you can book ("just don't think about the costs" he says), shows me around an airplane and gives me some background.

Being an accomplished aerobatic pilot, he came up with the idea of public dogfighting, invented an optical tracking device, which is used instead of real 50cals and started the outfit in 1986. Now they have done 18000 fights and are expanding.

You fly with an instructor on your side-seat, he makes take-off and landing, but will leave you to fly the dogfights, giving advice if necessary. Three on-board cameras record the flight on a videotape which you carry home. Instructors are former military pilots from all branches with thousands of hours experience. You can sign up for different fight packages starting at $395 and from here only the sky is the limit.

Enlisting

I decide for a basic 6-dogfights-pack lasting appr. 50min and Mike asks me about my flight experience. Well, I have only once in my life flown a plane: stick time was 10min out of a 25min aerobatic joyride with a Pitts Biplane a while ago in New Zealand. I was doing some basic manoevres there, loops, rolls, cuban eights. From this I'm confident that I won't puke, that I can go to 6 G without greyout and that I won't be disoriented. Sounds good, says Mike and I ask about my "adversary".

Somehow confident in the thousands of simulated dogfights under my belt, I don't want to go against the ordinary guy who gets this as a birthday gift from his wife or an incentive from his Company (apparently that's the majority of their customers). Mike has an open slot for a fight against an instructor the next day. It is a former USAF Phantom pilot who is currently training to qualify as an AIRCOMBAT USA side-seater. "Do you really wanna do it? Boy, it will be the fight of your life" goes Mike, and I think to myself "you asked for it" and give it a go.

Michael E. Blackstone - ('Mav'erick)

Mike graduated from California Polytechnic State University, Pomona, CA with a Bachelor of Science Degree majoring in Aerospace Engineering. Mike has 32 years of experience in aviation, including 21,000 hours of flight time, most of which he accumulated in his 16 years as an airline Captain. Mike has logged 3000 hours of aerobatics time; 1500 hours in a Pitts, and 2,000 in the SIAI Marchetti SF260, used by Air Combat USA. Mike currently flies the Boeing 757/767 for American Airlines and is President of Air Combat USA, which he founded in 1986.

Preflight

Next morning I'm introduced to my adversary pilot ("good that you do it, it's the best thing you can do with your clothes on") and the two instructors. The guy allocated to me is Dooley Jackson, a veteran of Vietnam and of 2000 AIRCOMBAT USA fights. With those toy-planes-on-a-stick he goes through the briefing: Safety, BFM etc. Safety means not to come too close to the other plane, to keep a good distance from the ground and to avoid spinning out of the sky. But its Dooleys job to take care of that.

BFM: well, for my basic ride the teaching is mostly the different pursuits, yo-yos, energy management. All this and words like "Lose sight, lose the fight, be aggressive" - sounds all too familiar to me. Dooley demonstrates how to breath under high Gs and gives some general advice: "Move the stick very gentle, everything up there is much smoother than in the movies." And what about flight sims, I think?

We put on flight suit, parachute, mae west and I get instructions how to bail out (WWII style: "climb onto the wing, jump, but avoid the tail" - there is no CTRL-E keyboard command which pops a Martin-Baker here) and what to do after a splash into the sea. With the knowledge that it had never happened here I stay cool. We are ready to go, and I feel suddenly not so cool about the fight anymore: will I be toasted by the other guy? I'm definitively not in the gung-ho Tom Cruise mood which we all know is required from fighter jocks. "Relax, you will have fun," smiles Dooley and we walk to the flight line.

Click to continue . . .

It's one of these wonderful California autumn mornings, visibility unlimited, just some high cirrus clouds and contrails, a perfect day for flying. We strap in, a last thumbs up to the "enemies" in the other SF260 and Dooley taxies along the runway, taking off with the other Marchetti in trail.

The First Fight

We climb out over Disneyland and are "feet wet" soon. On the way out the "aggressor" takes the lead, flying some wide s-turns so I can familiarize myself with the plane. The stick fits like a glove: its exactly the same as my Thrustmaster at home, but holy smoke, this thing is sensitive! I jink the SF260 all over the sky and Dooley has to intervene "Gentle, man, gentle!" Slowly I get used to it and we separate for the first combat.

The start is always the same: head-on with the enemy staggered to the left and after the pass the fight is on. I follow Dooleys advice: roll left 45° and pull up. The bandit was breaking horizontally, expecting probably a two-circle turning engagement. We turn and Dooley calls out "Low Yo-Yo". I roll the plane and down to the ocean we go. Instinctively my head turns to look straight forward. BIG Mistake: "You lost sight, I take control" hollers Dooley.

Damn, everything is happening so fast. But I know where the bandit must be: "2'clock high, I got a visual". The instructor straightens the plane, "you have control" and I pull up. We go through some turn-and-burn, I have lost track of the textbook-things, just try to put my lift-vector to the enemy, but I can feel that I have an advantage. The head swivels, G-forces come and go and the horizon spins.

WHOWH !! Its incredible, its exactly what I expected and its MUCH more. Adrenaline is pumping like mad and still you feel that you are in control. Together with the hunting thrill its an experience which is almost impossible to describe, even difficult to remember from hindsight.

My first kill comes unexpectedly fast and I have the impression that the other guy was holding back, keeping some aces up his sleeve. The next fights are similar, except that Dooley can more or less leave me up to myself but for one thing: I'm pulling G's like there is no tomorrow and he has to call out his "don't buffet, don't jerk it, don't over-G" many a time (after 6G the Marchetti has to go into inspection!). We are doing more 3D stuff in subsequent fights and I get the hang of it.

Sometimes the enemy is above you, glinting in the sun, seconds later you are the hun out of the sun boring down on him. Everything is going fast but smooth and the fights play out rather quickly, actually too quickly for my liking. If you gain an advantage, the bandit is dead soon, period. There is nothing of the "hold on, I have him in 15 seconds" movie stuff.

The unbelievable happens: In rapid succession I win five fights and lose the last one only because during a dive, I come too close to the ocean, out of the safety envelope and that's an automatic kill for the other pilot. He never came anywere close to my cone of vulnerability. I'm so pumped up that I even forget to ask Dooley if I can do some victory rolls before we are on the way home. This must have been the most intense 30 minutes of my life (with my clothes on at least...)

I'm allowed to fly a very close formation which is a good way to calm down before Dooley makes a perfect touchdown on the tarmac. "This was some great flying, you will love the video" he says. "It was worth every single buck, I could do that all day long," I reply.

Debrief

We climb out and the other instructor shouts at me from their cockpit: "Man, you really humbled that air force jock" (he is probably former Navy), "those were some Gs up there!" (it was 5.3 max). My adversary pilot climbs out of the Marchetti grinning and we do a shake-hands: "Congratulations, this was a helluva fight, you are an ace now," he says. I feel proud and awkward at the same time and we walk to the shack to see the video.

Watching the reel, we go through the combat again with Dooley explaining what was going on. I realized how much I was flying purely on instinct, but the three others got it all: "here you tried to counter his move with ..." Unlike normal combats we have only my video, normally both customers tapes are shown simultaneously. After that, Dooley says a quick good-bye, leaving me with the Phantom driver for a chat over a Coke.

He happens to be a real nice guy, nothing of the Superhero-Fighter-Jockey type. He left the Air Force in 1991 after a decade or so in the Phantom for the better pay of the Airlines. The excitement in the USAF was just not there to compensate for the money gap, too much paperwork, not enough flying, not to mention air combat. "That's dogfighting, that's real fun," he says, pointing to the Marchetti, standing in the hangar. And that's why he is flying with AIRCOMBAT USA.

Go to Part II