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SIMULATOR TALKOne of the two Concorde Flight Deck simulators is at Filton, where the Training School originally instructed both aircrews and ground crews for the development as well as the in-service activities. As simulation techniques developed in parallel with the aircraft itself, so too did the images of the environment seen through the aircraft windscreen. Originally a screen picture showed the results of a camera shot from a camera being “flown” over a countryside model of the approach to an airfield. Later there were virtual images depicting the details of the layouts and environs of significant major airports world-wide. Within the flight deck the instruments, lights and controls are faithfully reproduced. Thus, in conjunction with the hydraulic actuators moving the complete unit up, down and sideways in response to the pilot’s controls, the experience is very close to reality. |
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As in most occupations those in an instructive capacity develop their own line of patter to alleviate their own feelings of irritation at the incompetence of their charges, as much as to amuse or impress those who seek knowledge. Those in charge of large aircraft simulators are no exception. Week in, week out they instruct their charges, putting them into adverse hazardous situations in a safe environment in order to ensure that, in a real situation, they would carry out the correct procedures, instead of driving themselves and their passengers further into the mire. For several years the yearning to have a go on the simulator had been building up inside my head, but pressures from more relevant areas had deflected a specific request. However, following a close encounter with the manager of the Training School, the question popped out. It was met with a ‘why have you waited so long?’ response. The first attempt to ‘land the Concorde’ in a simulation of Kennedy Airport in New York, hovered between bad and awful. It would have made world headlines if it had been for real. “Bloody awful” said the technician in charge “Try Kai Tak. It’s horrendous! Past the hills, mind the skyscrapers and stop before you hit the sea!” There was something twisted with the logic here, especially as he had changed the picture to that for simulating landing in the opposite direction. After the first failed attempt on a relatively easy target, the simulator technician appeared to be enjoying himself. Kai Tak appeared on the virtual display and the flight deck settled itself comfortably at about 3000ft on the approach path. From there on the approach went well and the touchdown was near perfect. “Dunno why, but it seems to work out that way nearly every time!” said a very satisfied technician, “Must be the shock of messing up the first one” “Can you do any better?” I asked the equally desk bound sceptic. Without a word the display was reverted to the approach to New York Kennedy airport. Following a steady descent he broke off from the final flare and turned towards the skyscrapers. As they approached realistically close the aircraft banked from side to side, weaving its’ way between the larger buildings and finally climbing out. Throughout the manoeuvres, I had been weaving in my seat in the opposite direction in an effort to miss the windows of the virtual buildings as they flashed past. The experience was so realistic that I fished out a handkerchief to wipe my sweating palms. “I see that you can!” I said. This non-pilot technician could probably fly the simulator better than any qualified one. Sometimes visitors from outside would occasionally be accommodated, especially if they are important. “Ted, there’s a V.I.P. visiting the simulator. Would you be on hand to fly with him and fend off the more technical questions?” It was an instruction rather than a request and it came, as usual, at a very inconvenient time. “I can’t fly it. Can’t we get a real pilot? My licence to fly swept-wing aircraft was limited to Tiger Moths and expired years ago!” “British Airways will supply the pilot. You just look after the technical side!” And so the next day a small group met in the boardroom at Filton House deliberating on important matters like protocol. As no one had been briefed, all were experts. Conversation was cut short by the door being thrust wide open by a smartly dressed athletic person, closely followed by a second. The first one, the one with his right hand inside his jacket fixed everyone with a short, sharp inspection and then looked quickly behind the door. At this point the second one overtook him and turned left into the dining room. Number one then did a quick tour of the boardroom table, bending to look underneath to check for slumbering board members. Finding nothing more suspicious than an old picture of a Britannia they left, nodding to a figure standing in the corridor outside. The tall, erect, bearded figure of the Prince entered through the door and shook hands all round. Protocol disappeared with the detectives as the conversation restarted in new directions and continued throughout the lunch. However it was soon time to go “flying” in the simulator. After settling him in the left hand seat and running through the preliminaries, the BA pilot asked “From which airfield would you like to take of, Sir?” After a silence the pilot explained that he could choose one of several. “Oh, if that is the case, let us chose Heathrow” ...which was the response that the BA pilot had hoped for. Within seconds the windows of the Heathrow Concorde Departure Lounge could be seen through the flight deck windows. Following more preliminaries the engines were started and the sense of the aircraft being towed backwards and thence under its’ own power to the perimeter track was felt in the seats of our pants. The flight deck responded to a slightly uneven virtual surface activating the imaginary long nose wheel leg situated way behind the pilots’ position. The cabin nodded up and down as the virtual remainder of the fuselage flexed under the input. With this V.I. P. on board there was no delay to departure and the aircraft lined up for take-off. The take-off was straightforward with the aircraft (and hence the Prince) responding magnificently. However, as the aircraft continued in a noise reduction climb, heading towards the West, the BA pilot’s voice registered a note of concern. “A bit more to the right, Sir!” And again, “A bit more to the right, Sir!” “Why all this ‘a bit more to the right’ business?” “Well, Sir, you are passing rather close to Windsor Castle and we would not like to receive another letter from Prince Philip!” “Lord, no! One must not upset Philip!” The memory of this incident returned years later when Mike (No.1 Son) invited the family to an open day at Lyneham, the base for the Hercules transport. Apart from a flight in one of the aircraft at low level, with the rear loading door open, the attraction was a flight in the Hercules simulator, simulating an approach down to the runway. The family took it in turns at the controls. Dad, applying his Tiger Moth experience of forty years previously, tried to lose height by side slipping the aircraft towards the runway threshold. They made the centre of the runway, on the centreline, but six feet below it. “We won’t need a burial party!” said the Instructor. Mother, with one son at her side giving ‘up or down’ instructions and the other behind her saying ‘right or left’ managed to land on the runway, but slightly across it. The instructor looked at her and said “I think we are in the NAAFI. Would anyone care for a cup of tea?” Now it was Richard’s turn. Like his mother he had never flown anything before. However, his landing was at runway level, on the runway centreline, but unfortunately a mile short of the threshold. The Instructor looked at the virtual image and then at Richard. “Shall we take a taxi from here?” he asked. These experiences with just one family must have made his day, but no doubt he had only broken the surface over the depths of his store of one-liners Ted Talbot
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