The air traffic controllers in the Circus Airport Tower were friendly, with one exception. A guy that we nicknamed Mr. Miserable had a tone on the radio that contained all the warmth of a high school principal talking to the kid who had set fire to the school. He was working the day I checked out Melville Passmore in one of our Cherokee 140s.
Melville looked like a Melville: short, round, a little grubby but farmer friendly. He hooked his thumbs under his coverall straps when he talked and left his tongue hanging out between sentences.
Melville was a good pilot but he didn't like talking on the radio. For him it was like public speaking. It terrified him. To transmit, Melville pressed the microphone button, took a deep breath, looked both ways, licked his lips as he hauled in his tongue and then spoke from a pre-written script on a kneeboard. He pushed the words up from his boots like a belch. When he was done transmitting, he'd look at me. If I nodded my approval, he'd release the mic button.
When we were ready to taxi, Melville went through his routine: mic on, breath in, look both ways, lick lips, tongue in and talk, "Circus Ground, this is Cherokee Charlie India Romeo Charlie Uniform Sierra, request taxi instructions for circuits." He looked at me. I nodded. He released the button.
There was no response. We waited; still nothing. I tested the receive volume with the squelch. It was up. Melville looked at me to see what to do next. Before I could say anything, the voice of Mr. Miserable in the tower boomed through the aircraft cabin speaker.
"Charlie India Romeo Charlie Uniform Sierra, did you copy?"
The controller had obviously talked before Melville had released the mic. We had missed it. His sharp tone struck instant fear into Melville.
"Say, 'Say again.'" I said.
Mic on, breath, look, tongue, "Say, say again," Melville said. He looked at me, I nodded, mic button released.
The controller growled, "Charlie Uniform Sierra, I said, 'Did you copy the taxi instructions?'" This time the tone was beyond strict. It was threatening.
Melville looked at me. "Say, 'Negative,'" I said.
Melville went through his routine and then said, "Negative." He looked at me and I nodded. When he released the mic, the controller was part way through the instructions again.
"... altimeter three zero one zero, taxi via Charlie, Bravo."
I looked at the windsock. It showed the wind favored Runway 24 so I decided we could guess the rest of the clearance and leave the controller training for another day.
"Acknowledge with 'Charlie Uniform Sierra.'" I told Melville.
"Charlie Uniform Sierra?" he asked into the open microphone. I nodded. He let go.
"In future, Charlie Uniform Sierra, listen on the frequency for a reply after you make a transmission," the controller snapped.
Melville's eyes grew large as saucers.
Illustration by Francois Bougie
"Don't reply," I advised him, "he's having a bad day."
We taxied out and did the pre-take-off checks. Melville asked for a take-off clearance. The controller launched into his reply before Melville released the mic button.
"... call on the downwind," was all we heard.
We could have guessed that it was the end of a take-off clearance but I didn't want to make a mistake with Mr. Miserable.
"Ask him to 'Say again,'" I said to Melville.
He didn't want to. Before he could depress the mic button the controller jumped on him.
"Did you copy the clearance Charlie Uniform Sierra?"
Melville went through his routine and said, "Say again, Circus tower."
This time the controller read the take-off clearance slowly and loudly. Each word dripped with impatience.
Melville answered him, "Charlie Uniform Sierra." He looked at me. I nodded. He released the mic button.
"At least now he's working at our speed," I said to relieve some of the tension.
We did two circuits with touch and go landings and takeoffs with each one. Melville flew them perfectly. I picked up the microphone on the third downwind leg and said, "Charlie Uniform Sierra, downwind Runway 24, request Alpha."
"Charlie Uniform Sierra cleared touch and go Runway 24, wind 250, five to ten."
"Charlie Uniform Sierra."
"Request Alpha" was a code between flying schools and control towers that I had learned at my instructing job in the City of Derry. It meant that I wanted the controller to give Melville instructions to overshoot when he was on final approach to the runway. Using the code made it a surprise practice emergency procedure for the student.
Melville started on a base leg, set up a descent and then turned on final. I waited for the overshoot instruction. It never came. Melville executed another perfect touch and go. I decided that the controller must have forgotten to give it to us.
On the next downwind leg, I worked the microphone again.
"Charlie Uniform Sierra, downwind Runway 24, request Bravo."
"Charlie Uniform Sierra cleared touch and go Runway 24, wind 240 at ten."
"Charlie Uniform Sierra."
"Request Bravo" indicated to the controller that I was going to pull the power back after the next takeoff to simulate an engine failure in the climb out. There was nothing for the controller to do. The code just warned him that the airplane was not experiencing a real engine failure so he didn't need to call the emergency vehicles.
Melville set up an approach. On final it looked like he was going to nail another good landing.
Illustration by Francois Bougie
"Charlie Uniform Sierra, pull up and go around, pull up and go around!" the controller barked, then he added, "practice only." His sour tone made it realistic.
Melville obeyed and executed a good missed approach. I thought it was a neat trick by the controller to wait an extra circuit before issuing the overshoot. He even had me surprised.
When the Cherokee was climbing off the far end of the runway, I reached for the throttle lever and pulled it back to idle.
"Practice engine failure after takeoff," I declared to Melville.
The little farm boy pushed the airplane's nose down, set up a glide and leaned forward to look for an open area for landing. He headed the airplane toward a suitable piece of pasture close by.
"Charlie Uniform Sierra, are you experiencing a problem?" The controller demanded over the cabin speaker.
I thought it was exceptionally realistic of him to add that transmission to our practice. Melville looked at me.
"What would you do in a real situation?" I asked.
"Fly the airplane."
"Correct, so fly the airplane."
Melville lined up on the field. The approach looked good. As we descended through 200 feet, I reapplied the power.
"Nice job, Melville. Rejoin the circuit and we'll practice a short field landing for a full stop."
"Charlie Uniform Sierra, are you experiencing a problem?" the controller demanded again.
The voice was so demanding I knew the transmission wasn't part of the practice emergency procedure.
"Negative," I replied.
"Is that Charlie Uniform Sierra responding?" the controller barked. There was no other traffic. He was being very picky.
"Affirmative, the 'negative' is from Charlie Uniform Sierra," I replied.
"Call downwind," he said sharply.
"Charlie Uniform Sierra."
I let Melville call for a full stop landing. He was cleared to land. He nailed a full flap, short field landing on the runway numbers. When we had turned onto the taxiway, Melville called ground control for clearance to the Circus ramp. It was the same controller working both positions. He cleared us in and then added sternly, "The pilot is to call the control tower when he gets in the office."
Melville looked at me. His eyes were at full wide. He had been around flying schools enough to know the controller's statement was bad news.
"In this case, Melville, I'm the pilot, you're the student."
I phoned the tower from the office. The controller was shouting mad.
"It didn't matter when you asked for an engine failure after takeoff and didn't do it but I had a big problem when you did it on the next circuit without asking!" the controller yelled. I held the telephone receiver away from my ear. Melville winced. Mr. Miserable continued his tirade. "I'm here for your sake, not for mine," he bellowed. "When an airplane goes down without indicating a practice, I'm obligated to call out the emergency response teams. I had my hand on the hot line when you pulled up from your practice."
While he was raging, I was running the sequence of circuits and procedures through my head. It was obvious to me that either he or I had the codes switched.
"If I had called for a response, you would be in bigger trouble, mister!"
He was making a mountain out of a molehill.
"Where I come from," I offered as calmly as possible, "an 'Alpha' is a request for a practice overshoot and a 'Bravo' is a notice of a practice engine failure after takeoff."
"Well you're not where you come from!" the controller said with a blast. "Here an 'Alpha' is a requested practice engine failure and 'Bravo' is a requested overshoot."
"That's good to know," I said, "thank you."
"Go ahead your name and pilot licence number," the controller demanded.
That could only mean one thing: a violation. The guy was being unhelpful and unreasonable. It was my turn to be angry.
"Get stuffed," I said and hung up.
Melville looked like a deer caught in transport truck headlights.
"Pretend you didn't hear that," I said.
