✈️ Throttle Up: My First Flight in the T-6 Texan II

There’s no easing into flying when you’re learning to become a U.S. Air Force pilot.

The first time I strapped into the T-6 Texan II, it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff — helmet tight, heart hammering, and 1,100 horsepower rumbling beneath me. Every part of me buzzed with adrenaline. This wasn’t a simulator anymore. This was real. And I was in the front seat.

The T-6 looks sleek on the ramp, almost like a sports car for the sky. But it’s not just built for looks — it’s designed to push you, to test your instincts, and to show you exactly where you need to get stronger. That first day, I found out just how serious it was.

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The Start Line: Pre-Flight Jitters

Walking out to the aircraft with my instructor felt surreal. Even with weeks of academics and chair-flying behind me, nothing truly prepares you for the moment you touch the real stick and throttle.

The T-6 cockpit wraps around you like a glove — tight, clean, full of dials and glass screens. The harness locked me in so snugly I could barely move, and the helmet sealed the world outside into a muted hush.

There was a quick canopy check. “You ready?” my instructor asked casually through the intercom.

“Ready,” is what I was hoping I clearly said, but that was muted by my heavy, awkward mouth breathing into the mask.

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Throttle Up and Wheels Up

The throttle slid forward. The T-6 came to life.

Acceleration pinned me back against the seat as we barreled down the runway, the nose lifting sharply toward the cloud peppered Mississippi sky. The mains lifted, and suddenly — I was flying.

We flew off to a training box in the sky, my instructor calmly said the words I’ll never forget:

“Alright, ready for G’s?”

The G-forces hit me like a sledgehammer — 3, maybe 4 Gs. Everything went from vibrant color to dulling gray in an instant. My instructor came over the intercom with “4 G’s feeling good…” My response:

“4 uh, G’s, feeling something!”

After a brief reprieve to regain my composure, it was time to roll and pull, to see what this aircraft was capable of. The trees, clouds, and sky all spun together. For a moment, all I could do was laugh inside my oxygen mask. This was real. This was happening.

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Learning to Think While Flying

It wasn’t just aerobatics for the fun of it, though — every move had a purpose.
In UPT, they start you in aerobatics to teach you energy management: how to control your aircraft’s speed, altitude, and attitude intuitively. It builds instincts that later translate into formation flying, emergency recoveries, and combat maneuvers.

Even basic maneuvers like loops and barrel rolls quickly led into more complex tasks:

• Practicing recoveries from unusual attitudes
• Holding precise airspeeds in climbing and descending turns
• Coordinating stick and rudder through slow flight
• Staying ahead of the aircraft, mentally and physically

Each sortie wasn’t just about surviving the ride — it was about processing faster, thinking further ahead, and tightening up every movement into something deliberate and smooth.

Flying fast is easy. Flying smart? That’s what UPT is really about.

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First Lessons, First Humbles

By the end of the flight, I was drenched in sweat.

I’d missed a few radio calls. I’d fumbled through a G exercise. I probably looked like a confused octopus trying to work the radios, the stick, the rudder, the power settings all at once.

But I was smiling like an idiot under my oxygen mask because I was flying, and nothing could touch that feeling.

That first sortie cracked open a whole new world. Every flight after layered new skills on top — building the building blocks that would eventually lead to formation flying, instrument approaches, and low-level navigation. Each block mattered. Each sortie counted.

It was the beginning of what would become, truly, a journey of Clear Skies and Wild Rides.

And as tough as it was, I knew even then: I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

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Next Up:

➡️ “Weathering the Storm: Tornadoes, Snow, and Ice at Columbus AFB” — where bad weather wasn’t just an obstacle… it became part of the training.