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The first solo spin of Fred Burlingame, Jr. in December, 1943Fred C. Burlingame, Jr. was champing at the bit at Smethport High School after America entered World War II. He was anxious to enlist but his mother refused to sign his enlistment papers. As soon as he could he enlisted and entered the US Army Air Corps as an aviation cadet reaching for his longtime goal of becoming a pilot. The following is his own account of a day in December, 1943 when he flew an Air Corps training plane for his first solo spin -- a required maneuver for cadets in training. The young pilots at Bruce Field in Ballinger, TX were compelled by their instructors to understand just how to recover from a potentially deadly aircraft spin by practicing recovery procedures. The student pilots, after practice, would fly solo up to 5,500 feet, push the aircraft into a spin and then recover by pointing the nose down and diving to the ground. This quickly gained airspeed and provided lift for the wings which gave the pilot flight control again. The above photo is the cover of the yearbook for cadets in Fred Burlingame's cohort -- Cadet Class 44-F.
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MY FIRST SOLO SPIN
By Fred C. Burlingame, Jr.
As an Aviation Cadet in Class 44-F, I had arrived at Bruce Field, Ballinger, Texas a few weeks previous for Primary Flight Training. The field was supplied with the Fairchild PT-19, a low wing, two place, tandem, open cockpit trainer with a six cylinder, in-line, inverted 165 HP Ranger engine. It was rugged, stressed to + or – 9 G’s and was easy to fly. I made my first Solo Flight at Johnson Auxiliary Field on December 10, 1943. At the time I had 8.5 Hours Dual Instruction. After my Solo, I flew with my instructor, E. P. Hendricks, Jr., until he got sick and missed work. At the time, I had 12.0 Hours. Until he reported back to work, I continued to fly unsupervised solo running my total time up to 20 Hours.
I did not see Mr. Hendricks until 4:00 PM the day he returned. His first words were, “Did you do your solo spin, yet?” I answered, “No, Sir.” He said, “Why not?” I explained that I hadn’t had any instruction since he left. “Well, can you do it?”, he demanded. He asks me, the World’s Greatest Aviator, answer to the maidens’ prayers,who can do anything, if I can do a Solo Spin? YES, SIRRR! “Okay! I’ll get you a ship and you go up and get that out of the way today.”
I got a chute and we went out to the airplane. It was Field Number 31 and had a faded blue fuselage and faded yellow wings. The later versions had been painted silver and Field Numbers were running in the 200’s, so this old girl was a veteran. Mr. Hendricks cranked the engine and when it started he stowed the crank in the baggage compartment.I taxied out, did my run-up, cleared traffic and took off heading for the practice area. As I recall we were to have 5,500 feet for a dual spin and 6,500 feet for a solo spin. Leveling off at 6,500 feet, I looked over the side and said to myself, “Boy, that ground looks awfully close.” At 7,500 feet I said, “Another 1,000 feet wouldn’t hurt” and at 9,500 feet old Number 31 had reached her absolute ceiling and I had run out of excuses.
So, clearing turns, left and right, carburetor heat “ON”, Close the throttle, pick out the house, ease the nose up and, just before the stall, stick full back and full left rudder for a nice, gentle over-the-top entry. Neat! The house went by, 1-2-3. Swap rudder, count 1-2, bring the stick forward well past neutral and the house went by, 4-5-6. Well I need to be more positive. Hold full left rudder, push hard on right rudder, forcefully swap rudders, more positive on the forward stick and the house went by, 7-8-9.
Well – I’ll get ‘er out this time. Full left rudder, stick full back. Really bang the rudder over, take my left boot heel and kick the stick forward. I was ill prepared for what happened next. The airplane stopped spinning and tucked under, inverted. I was partially thrown out with my butt on the coaming and the seat belt (no shoulder harness installed) very tight just above my knees. I couldn’t reach anything to try to pull myself back into the seat. By now we are going down – vertical with not very much time left to impact. Speaking to myself again, I said, “Kicking that stick got you into this mess. If you can kick it again maybe you can get out of it”
So using my left foot, I started trying to kick the stick and soon made contact. This resulted in an abrupt pitch up and slid me back toward the seat. In better position now, I kicked it again and slid back into the seat. We were still going straight down like the mill tales of hell and I had two thoughts in mind. One was popping a panel (pulling a wing off with too many G’s) and a high-speed stall and mushing in. See how much I knew at 20 Hours? So I sat there gently rounding out of the dive and at last I could see green grass passing back under the nose. Soon I saw blue sky and out loud I said, “Okay, God. I think I can handle it now.”
Being hungry for altitude I opened the throttle and the Tach went off the dial. Power back, Dummy – you want to blow the engine? Airspeed is still off the dial. As the airspeed passed through 140, I began to add power and climbed to the burble approaching a stall. The altimeter was unwinding furiously trying to get down to our altitude. When the altimeter stopped, we had 1,500 feet actual altitude. I must have been within 500 feet of the ground when I stopped my descent. TOO CLOSE!!
At last things appeared to be normalizing and I was starting to relax when the adrenaline kicked in and I got the shakes. Held me hand up and my fingers looked like a picket fence. I knew I couldn’t land in that condition so I flew around for perhaps 15 to 20 minutes calming down. The landing was normal, but I was the only airplane out there.
I parked, tied down and walked into the Ready Room, parachute over my shoulder. My instructor, wearing his shearing lined, one piece leather flying suit, Mickey Mouse flying boots and shearing lined leather flying helmet and goggles, with his shearing lined leather flying mitts clasped behind his back was pacing the floor. When he heard the metal door bang shut, he pivoted on his left foot and bellowed, “Where in the Hell have you been?”
I said, “Sir, I had a little trouble.”
He said, “What do you mean you had a little trouble?”
I said, “Sir, the airplane wouldn’t come out of the spin.’’
He told me all you have to do is let go of the controls and it will come out by itself. He asked me if I was scheduled to fly the next morning. When I said I was, he said we had a date – first period and he would prove it would come out by itself.
At 0755 hours my instructor and number 31 and me were sitting in take off position waiting for the engine oil to warm up. I was amused when he looked up in the mirror on his windshield and told me that if he told me to bail out I should get out because he wouldn’t be there to tell me again.
Out in the practice area at the proper altitude, Mr. Hendricks looked in his mirror and asked which way I entered the spin. I indicated to the left and, having done clearing turns, he entered a spin to the left. The house went by, 1-2-3, my instructor swapped rudder and popped the stick and the spin didn’t stop. He reversed the controls and repeated the recovery and the house went by, 4-5-6. At that point he applied a copious amount of power and broke the spin. He made a bee-line for the airport and after landing taxied up to the hangar. Stopping the engine on the roll, he stuck the nose of the airplane right in between the partially open hangar doors and braked to a stop. He crawled out of the cockpit, went over the leading edge of the wing and lifted a poor, startled mechanic up off the floor, by grasping his coveralls with one hand and bellowed, “ What are you trying to do? Kill my Cadets? I want this airplane re-rigged right now”
I never heard another word about it and was afraid to ask.
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