By: J. B. Stokley
I have been asked, from time to time, how I got to fly warbirds for the Commemorative Air Force, and how can the average (if there is such a thing) general aviation pilot can get into flying warbirds. The stock flippant response to both questions is that a large investment of time and money play a very large role. Granted, not a very satisfying answer, but it usually lets me move on to other questions about the specifics of the airplanes themselves, which are much easier to answer. Every pilot and his circumstances are different, so I can't offer a specific list of things you must do then guarantee that you can fly a warbird, but I can offer some advice and suggestions about what I think a pilot today should do to get himself ready to fly WWII era warbirds, and ultimately fighters.
If you've got a real hankering to fly WWII era airplanes, the very first thing you have to do to prepare is to get yourself checked out in taildraggers. You can pretty much count the number of single-engine American nosewheel type WWII military airplanes on one hand. The Bell P-39 Airacobra, and P-63 King Cobra are the only ones that come quickly to mind. There were a few more multi-engine aircraft with nosewheels, but with the exception of the P-38 Lightning, the P-61 Black Widow night fighter and the Grumman F7F Tigercat they were bombers. The types of airplanes I'll be talking about are the much more common and well known single engine tailwheel types like the AT-6, the P-40 Warhawk, P-47 Thunderbolt, P-51 Mustang, the Grumman Wildcat, Hellcat, Bearcat and the Chance-Vought F4U Corsair. There are some absolutely delightful to fly nosewheel airplanes out there, such as the T-28 and Navion L-17, but those are post-WWII airplanes. With few exceptions, if you want to fly single engine WWII warbirds, you're going to be flying a taildragger.
Through the early part of WWII, the most common training sequence for an Army Air Corps aviation cadet was to start in a Civilian Pilot Training program (CPT) school in something like a Cub. From there, the cadet would be formally accepted into the service and would proceed to fly one or more of the PT (Primary Trainer) series of aircraft, such as the Stearman PT-17, Fairchild PT-19 or PT-23, or Ryan PT-22. After successfully completing training in the PT-series, he would advance to the BT (Basic Trainer) series, of which the most recognized today is the Vultee BT-13 Valiant. The final type a cadet would fly before earning his wings was the AT (Advanced Trainer) series, of which by far the most widely used was the AT-6 Texan. This sequence of aircraft types provided the cadet with a progressively more complex, powerful and capable aircraft to fly and in which to learn progressively more complex and demanding maneuvers and procedures. It is not a bad plan, even today.
Let's assume you are already a pilot with a few hundred hours in typical GA airplanes. Perhaps you've even moved up to complex GA singles like a Bonanza or Cessna 210. Now you've got this powerful urge to challenge yourself and honor history by flying WWII airplanes. Where do you start? As I said earlier, you need to get yourself a tailwheel endorsement and get relatively comfortable flying a tailwheel airplane. It's not that hard, but it is a different skill set than you're used to using and I personally found it to be a lot fun. You can fly airplanes like a Cub, Champ, Citabria or Decathalon, to name just a few, and all of them will teach you a lot about how to fly. Most people stop there, or move into more complex or specialized tailwheel airplanes like a Pitts if you love aerobatics, or maybe a Staggerwing Beech if you want to travel in vintage style. There are dozens of types to choose from, all with their own style and personality.
If you've still got that hankering to fly warbirds, you need to decide if you want to move on to more complex types or stay with the L-Birds for a while. The Aeroncas, Cubs, and Stinsons became L-3's, L-4's and L-5's during WWII. They have their own valued place in history, their own type clubs and their own training organization for getting formation qualified (Joint Liaison Formation Committee). They also have the advantage of being the most affordable of all the warbirds. I know many folks that fly L-birds (or as they are sometimes affectionately called "warbugs") exclusively and are completely satisfied doing so. There is a fine sense of community within the L-bird part of the larger warbird world. They are welcome at airshows, have a valuable story to tell, and some of them can be a handful in their own right. L-birds are a fine choice particularly for the pilot with budget considerations.
CAF L-4 Photo Nigel Hitchman
The PT and BT series of ex-military airplanes is also a good choice for those with some budget considerations. There is no reason you couldn't get your tailwheel endorsement in one of these airplanes, and like the L-birds, they too have their own sense of community. Today, the two most common types in this class of warbirds are the Stearman and the BT-13. There are several other airplanes available in this group, but I believe the Stearman and BT-13 represent the rest very well. The Stearman, of course, is the ubiquitous biplane equipped most commonly with a 220 hp Continental radial engine. It served as a primary trainer for most of the war, and thousands of aviation cadets of all branches of service flew these airplanes. I personally don't have a lot of Stearman time, just a few hours, but I found the airplane to be fun while still being quite challenging to fly. Old-time warbird guys have told me that the Mustang makes a good trainer for the T-6 and the T-6 is a good trainer for the Stearman. Now that I've flown them all, I'm not real sure they were joking. A stock Stearman has two ailerons to move all that wing, so it's not exactly sprightly on the controls, and the fact that it sits tall on fairly narrow landing gear combined with limited visibility can make it a challenge to handle on the ground. It's hard to beat the cache of flying an open cockpit bi-plane, though, and those loyal to the Stearman are almost rabidly so. It is a robust airplane, fairly hard to break, and the Continental engine is very reliable.
US Navy Stearman N2S variant Photo by JB Stokley
The BT-13 at first glance looks a lot like it's more numerous cousin the T-6. It sits fairly high on a widely spaced fixed gear and the cockpit configuration closely resembles a Texan's. The tall tail and fixed gear is a give-away that this isn't a T-6, though. Powered by an almost bulletproof 450 hp Pratt & Whitney R-985, the BT-13 offers decent performance and good flying characteristics. It's mostly metal skin makes maintenance and upkeep a little easier than that of the fabric covered airplanes mentioned earlier. All the BT-series airplanes are a bit more rare in today's world than either the PT or AT series airplanes. They were the first eliminated in the training sequence mentioned above, and there just weren't as many of them built as the others. If you wind up flying one of these, you'll always be welcomed at airshows, and you get your FAST formation training in the same category as a T-6 or a fighter.
CAF BT-13 Photo by Chuck Gardner
For many, owning a T-6 is the ultimate goal in warbird flying. I fit that category for a long time, and I have owned one for the past 17 years. Even after 950 hours in the seat, I still find that it can be a challenge to consistently fly the airplane well. It is not a man-eater as some have claimed, but it does require you to be aware of what you are doing most of the time. Very few have an autopilot, and the T-6 doesn't respond well to inattention. That said, no other airplane I've ever flown has taught me more about the right way to fly an airplane or brought me more pleasure while flying it. If you get comfortable and competent (not necessarily the same thing) in a T-6, moving on to more powerful and faster warbirds will not be a problem. I can do just about anything in the T-6 I can do in a Mustang, I just do it a little slower and with a little more thought toward energy management. There were over 15,000 airframes of various designations built between 1938 and the last Canadian built Harvard Mark 4 variants built in the early 1950's. While there are subtle differences between the variants, with only a few exceptions they all have a P&W R-1340 engine rated at 600 hp, a fraction over 42 feet of wingspan and the same fuselage shape. The Navy called them SNJ's, and the Brits and Canadians called them Harvards. It's all pretty much the same airplane.
The T-6 was designed as an easy to maintain advanced trainer, and even today it fulfills that role admirably. Yeah, maybe I'm a little prejudiced toward them since I've owned and flown one for so long, but I can't think of another warbird that can do everything a T-6 can do as economically as a T-6 can do it. OK, so it burns 30 gallons per hour at cruise power and with the cost of fuel doing what it is today that is a major consideration, but otherwise, it doesn't cost any more to maintain than most any high performance GA single. I'd even say it compares favorably to the Bonanza and Cessna 210 types. The trick these days is to find a mechanic who knows something about radial engines. There are still some real good ones out there, but they are getting fewer and fewer, unfortunately. There are several places around the country where you can get instruction in a T-6, and if flying warbirds of this type or faster is something you want to do, I heartily recommend that you go buy an hour or two of dual in a T-6. After that, you'll either be hooked big time, or decide that maybe this isn't for you after all. I'm betting on the former. You should also join the North American Trainer Association, or NATA, to take advantage of a deep pool of knowledge about the T-6 type airplanes (as well as T-28's, P-51's and B-25's). You'll get a great bi-monthly magazine that will help keep you up to date on the goings on in the T-6 world, and usually contains some real good maintenance information. You'll also get a membership directory that can put you in contact with many of the movers and shakers of the warbird world.
T-6 Photo by Randy Morgan
In my opinion, you're going to want to get at least a hundred hours of good, quality, experience-packed time in a T-6 before you go out and buy yourself a fighter. That's a bare minimum, too. Before you can fly a fighter for the Commemorative Air Force, you're going to need at least two hundred hours in a T-6. What should you be doing during that time, you might ask? First and foremost, learn to land the thing! Learn to do 3 point landings and wheel landings, and be able to do either one on purpose in a reasonably strong crosswind. Only then can you decide which you prefer in any given situation. Be able to say, "I meant to do that" and mean it. Learn to land on short fields and grass fields. The T-6 loves grass as a runway, and it doesn't take as much room to take-off or land as you might think. I've been flying my airplane off a 2400' grass runway at my home for many years, and have found that to be plenty of room. Go to a couple of formation clinics sponsored by a FAST signatory organization (the North American Trainer Association -NATA-, and the Commemorative Air Force -CAF- are the two that come quickest to mind). Learn to fly formation and earn yourself at least a Wingman patch. You're probably going to be asked if you want to fly formation at various events, and if there is waivered airspace successful completion of this training as evidenced by a current FAST formation card is mandatory. It's also a lot of fun once you start to get the hang of it, and knowing what kind of training the guy flying 10 feet off your wing has had is comforting as well. Get yourself some good dual instruction in aerobatics. You don't have to be able to fly aerobatics to fly a T-6 or a fighter, but you're going to want to. It's just too much fun to pass up. Besides, it makes you much more comfortable in the cockpit, and attitude and bank extremes that might make your skin crawl now will become just another mode of flight after you've taken some good instruction. If you're going to yank and bank, even for fun, you need aerobatic instruction. I'm sure you've heard the saying that being self-taught in aerobatics is not conducive to pilot longevity. It's true.
Now that you've got some good T-6 time in your logbook, and you've checked your wallet and found it overflowing, you're ready to move into fighters. The simplest way to get into a fighter cockpit is to buy the airplane, but it sure ain't cheap. A high six digit number is the best you're going to be able to do, and seven figures is probably more like it for the most popular fighters today. The good news is that it's a pretty good investment. None of them are going down in value if you take care of them and don't break it. To get dual training in a fighter, one of course needs a two-seat fighter. There aren't too many of them. The Lauderback brothers at Stallion 51 in Kissimmee, FL offer instruction in their TF-51 Mustangs, Crazy Horse. That's not a misprint. They have two, same name, one of which is currently undergoing restoration. That training isn't cheap either, but when calculated as a percentage of investment, it's chicken feed. It will go a long way toward helping you get insurance, too.
Another way to get into a fighter is to find someone who owns one and is willing to let you fly it. Can we say, "rare as hen's teeth?" If you find this person, drop me a note and let me know his phone number. I'd like to talk about a ride...
CAF P-51 "Old Red Nose" Photo by Don Burgess
One more avenue that might be available is to fly a museum aircraft. It worked for me. I joined the Dixie Wing of the Commemorative Air Force (CAF) in 2002. Later that same year, mostly because of my considerable experience in a T-6, I was offered the opportunity to fly the Dixie Wing's SBD-5 Dauntless. I took it. I would not have been offered that opportunity regardless of my experience if I hadn't been showing up at the Wing hangar, some 55 nauticals from my home, on a fairly regular basis and offering to help work on airplanes or sweep floors or do whatever else needed doing. Turns out my specialty is finishing concrete, but that's another story. Not long after I began flying the Dauntless, another opportunity presented itself, and because I was at the right place at the right time with the right qualifications, time and a thick enough checkbook (not as thick as you might think, however), I now find myself with a hundred hours of P-51 Mustang time in my logbook. I don't know of another organization other than the CAF in which opportunities such as I have taken advantage of even exist. Five years ago, I never imagined I'd be able to fly an airplane like the Dauntless, of which there are only 3 or 4 in the entire country that fly, and I figured my only Mustang time would be the couple of rides I had gotten in the back seat of Mustangs belonging to friends I'd met through having the T-6. If you want any kind of shot at flying high-dollar WWII airplanes without having to own them, CAF is about the only game around. Join it. Participate. Qualify in the trainers or whatever airplane is available at your local unit and captures your interest, then be patient. You may very well get your shot at a fighter. Even if you don't you'll share the company of other like-minded people and have a darn good time doing it.
CAF SBD-5 Dauntless Photo Beverly Stokley
