An Army pilot greeted my father and me, explaining that there was a chopper available if I cared to go up for a ride. I jumped at the chance and was even more surprised when I was told to take the left seat. My instructor buckled in on the right side of that two-seater.
"Ever fly one of these, Lieutenant?" my pilot inquired. I shook my head and replied that I've never had the pleasure. "Well," he said, "Let me show you how the Army does it."
We took off and buzzed around the training areas, even making several auto-gyro practice emergency landings. Then my pilot demonstrated flying under the trees, deftly clipping off pine cones with the rotor tip. I was impress with his flying skills, but not sure that demonstration was a good idea. It was all very exciting and I was having a ball.
Then the major said, "Okay, young fellow. It's your turn." He motioned for me to take the controls. Soon I was flying that little chopper, carefully following his verbal instructions. I had a great time and got the hang of it quickly. He even talked me through a few landings. Boy, for a navigator that was terrific.
On the ground, after we'd parked the chopped on the flightline, I thanked him profusely for the ride and the chance to actually fly a chopper. But then I made a terrible mistake, by adding that for a navigator it had been an extra special treat.
The pilot's expression quickly revealed clear disappointment that he had not been dealing with a fellow pilot, albeit an Air Force type. A navigator? How revolting. Ah well, it was still a treat for me.