“And nothing else?”
“Nothing at all”, Tougoushy answered seriously to our common laughter.
My turn has come. “May I board?” I asked the instructor. Miroevskiy gave permission with a nod, and I climbed into the cockpit, buckled up the belts, and attached the hose of the intercom.
“Ready?” The instructor asked me impatiently, watching me in the mirror.
Trying to shout down the engine’s roar I yelled “Ready!”
I receive directions through the speaking device: the instructor will be doing everything himself during the flight and I will just hold the levers softly and memorise the turns.
“Try to take note of the flight heading, and the landmarks for turns. We’re taking off!” I hear his order at last.
When we are in the air only the instructor talks, “The start is towards the south-west. On the right is Golitsyno, Bol’shie Vyazemy, on the left the Malye Vyazemy train station. We’re making the first turn.”
I am all attention. I do my best to remember what is below, lest I miss the turns…
“We’re over the Malye Vyazemy station. Here is the second turn, memorize it”, Miroevskiy continues insistently. When we were flying over ploughed fields the plane lurched heavily. Abandoning the levers I reached for the fuselage with both hands but it was as if the instructor hadn’t noticed me move.
“Altitude is 300 metres, flying straight. Steer the plane!”
I had not expected that at all. But there was no choice — I began operating the pedals, the steering column, the throttle. And then the quietly horizontally flying plane began listing from one side to another, lifting its nose above the horizon or lowering it like a horse under a bad rider. The machine wouldn’t obey my inexperienced hands! And it seemed to me that a whole eternity had gone by before the instructor took over the controls. The plane immediately calmed down and I gave way to despair: “My flying days are over! I am no good at it, and a coward to boot…” I wanted only one thing — that no-one find out about my disgrace: my inability to handle the plane even in straight flight! My hopes of becoming a pilot were dashed…
But the instructor Miroevskiy tells me about the third turn as if nothing has happened, asks me to keep my eye on the airstrip “T” point and whether we are flying parallel to the sign. Having finished the third turn he slows down and, descending, we approach the last, the fourth, turn. I hold the control levers but not so as to impede the instructor. Now he switches the craft to gliding, then hovers and lands on three points.
“That’s it”, I hear his voice in the headphones. “We’ve made it back! Now taxi to the parking lot.”
And I interpret it my way: “My flying days are over. He’ll cross me off as incapable”. Having taxied the machine to the spot himself Miroevskiy turned off the engine and began to climb out of the cockpit. Having unfastened my seatbelts I clumsily got out onto the wing and jumped down on the ground.
“Ready to have my knuckles rapped” I said quietly, not raising my head.
“What’s wrong with you, Egorova? You’re not going to cry, are you?”
“I’m a failure!”
“But who succeeds on the first go?” Miroevskiy laughed. “Moscow too wasn’t built in a day”.
7. I’m a pilot!
The first Sunday of June was ordinary. A day like any other: bright, warm, summery. At dawn quaint palaces of white clouds were still hanging on the horizon but by the time flying started they had dissipated and the sky had cleared. The weather was just right — aviation weather. Truth to tell, the breeze was playing up a bit but not too much. The aerodrome woke up early from habit, and when the disc of the sun rose up above the treetops our tall and thin instructor Miroevskiy was already inspecting the line of trainee pilots. It was as always, like many a time before that, but for some reason today he was looking us over very carefully as if we were soldiers on parade, and checking our flying gear. And no less cordially, with his pleasant, unexpectedly low voice he announced “Egorova will be the first to fly with me if there are no objections.”
The very idea! I took a step forward and my whole posture expressed full readiness.
“May I board?”
“You may…”
I deftly jumped up on a wing and then threw myself into the rear cockpit. That was how it should be. The front one was for the instructor.
“Taxi out!”
The obedient U-2, waddling from side to side like a duck, rolled towards the airstrip on the stiff grass. “Take the controls!” Miroevskiy ordered.
“Aye-aye, taking the controls…”
It was a routine dual training circle flight. As usual we took off, landed and taxied to the parking lot… Then the instructor’s seat was occupied by the flight commander and we took off and landed again. And at this moment I was surprised by the inopportune appearance of the club Flying Service commander. The flight commander was already unbuckling his seatbelts and threw his leg overboard. It was time for me to get out too. But the flight commander made a sign with his hand as if to say: ‘stay there’. There was a smile on Miroevskiy’s kind long face. It meant that everything was alright — he was pleased.
In the meantime the aeroclub’s Flying Service commander was already heading for the plane, doing up his helmet on the way and pulling on his leather gloves. Flying Service commander Lebedev was a simple, cordial and benevolent man. We, the trainee pilots, had never seen him blazing up, yelling at anyone, degrading anyone’s human dignity even under stress. He always listened attentively to us, his subordinates, made his remarks tactfully, gave useful recommendations. When lecturing he would instil in us that a man in the sky doesn’t learn just flying skills. He builds his character and his outlook on life in the skies. “For his success each pilot is obliged not so much to his natural disposition and abilities but rather to his diligence”, he used to say. “All your flying days are still ahead of you. So gather all the best you have inside: courage; self-control; love for your trade, and work! That’s the only way you will earn the gratitude of the people…”
And Lebedev was an excellent pilot too. They said that he had been awarded a Chinese medal for his excellent training of Chinese pilots in a combined aviation school in Urumchi. What skill must he have attained to train the Chinese pilots, illiterate, not knowing the Russian language, not having seen a plane in their lives?
All of us trainee pilots were eager to be examined by the flying unit commander himself and not by the head of the aeroclub. “Are they really going to let us fly on our own?” the presumptuous and thrilling thought flashed through my mind. However, I was ashamed of it straightaway: “How did that get into my head? No one has flown on his own yet…”
“Something’s up!” I thought and the Flying Service commander climbed into the front cockpit.
“Fly a circle. Altitude’s 300 metres, then land on the landing T on three points inside the boundary”, I hear his voice through the speaking device. I repeat the order and ask for permission to taxi out.
“Taxi out and take off!” — The commander ostentatiously put his hands on the sides of the cockpit, thus showing that now I would have to do everything myself and he was almost an bystander here and was not going to interfere with the controls.
Well, if I have to, I will. I have been flying the plane for a long time, and the presence of an instructor has been somewhat soothing. After all, you know that if something happens he’ll be sure to help. I gradually rev up and take off, doing everything the way we’ve been taught. Here is the last straight line of the ‘box’ — the most crucial one. I glide, set the levelling altitude, pull the lever to me with a barely perceptible movement — and the plane lands on three points near the T-point of the airstrip.
“Taxi in!” I hear the Flying Service commander’s order.
When the plane stopped Lebedev ordered me to stay in the cockpit and headed towards Miroevskiy. The latter said something to him and then the instructor called for a sandbag to be put in the front cockpit. I immediately remembered that this used to be done to keep the plane aligned when a trainee flyer was flying on his own. And so it turned out. The instructor said, looking into my cockpit, “You’ll be flying alone now. Do everything you just did with the Flying Service commander”.
That’s when my mouth went dry and my palms got sweaty! I wanted to thank the instructor for having me taught to fly, for letting me fly the first in my group, wanted to find many kind and good words but not saying
