@CcibChris Can confirm. It works. Causes a split second delay as an easily killed target that is belly up and turning away is briefly considered a safety threat as it’s turning straight into you.
Canada uses this among others.
@ImmortanZit@hockeyislife79@Timcast No. He. Nobody cares what he thinks he is. He’s obviously male. You don’t get to force people to participate in your delusions.
@B1B_Lancer@MaxQHellcat Between the throttle and where the EAGLE handle would be. Never he remembered, he dropped both stick and throttle and pulled the ACTUAL handle which is between ones legs in the Viper. This is HIS testimony confirmed by the video.
@MaxQHellcat Then why in the mishap investigation did he say he forgot he was in an F-16 and reached for the Eagle handles? Come on dude. Stop it. You have no idea what you’re talking about.
This is childish hype that you have fallen for. Neither unit is capable of combat deployments. Both sets of aircraft need tons of work and both sets of aircrew are not current or training to the latest TTPs.
But technically, after a quick refresh that might take a few months, either set of aircrew could deploy.
@BenMcCombe Don’t forget who this guy works for. Pete didn’t say it wasn’t unsafe. If don’t say it was fine. He simply trusts the local commanders to handle it at the lowest level instead of at the media level or the president or some other leftist bullshit.
You have no idea what you are talking about. He blew the maneuver, yes, starting the split S below the required altitude, but he didn’t guide anything. If you watch the video, you can see him trying to eject for several seconds before remembering he was in an F-16 and not an Eagle. He’s lucky to have survived his stupidity.
@MaxQHellcat Dude, he was CLIMBING. Look at all the angles.
Nobody was deaf. Nobody was hurt. It was a small error that likely won’t happen again on your lifetime. By the way, I guarantee somebody got hurt driving home from this event.
In Georgia I entered a Chick-fil-A drive-thru line of forty cars.
I turned off my engine. I prepared to wait the way my ancestors waited out a siege.
Six minutes later I was holding chicken.
I do not know what happened to the other thirty-nine cars. The line moved like water that had somewhere to be.
A young woman walked between the cars taking orders on a small tablet, on foot, in the sun, smiling like the sun was her idea.
I said thank you.
She said, "My pleasure."
I did not think about it then. I should have.
At the window I thanked the young man for the food.
"My pleasure."
I thanked him for the sauce.
"My pleasure."
I thanked him for thanking me—
"My pleasure."
I want to be clear about what was happening.
This was a duel.
In Japan I trained in courtesy for forty years. Bowing angles. Seasonal greetings. The correct depth of apology for seventeen distinct situations.
I was a white belt in that drive-thru.
I escalated. I used my most formal English. I thanked him on behalf of my entire family line.
He said, "My pleasure," and gave me extra sauce.
Extra sauce. Unprovoked. A counterattack.
I returned the next day to reclaim my honor.
It was Sunday. The restaurant was closed.
All of them were closed. In the entire country. They close every Sunday, and they have closed every Sunday since the beginning, because the founder made a promise, and the promise did not expire when he did.
I stood in the empty parking lot and understood I had lost twice.
Once to a teenager with sauce.
Once to a man I will never meet, who kept his word so long it became a building.
In my country we say a samurai's word is his life.
I had never seen a restaurant say it back.
I returned Monday. I ordered. And this time I said it first, before she could.
"My pleasure."
She smiled and said, "It sure is."
America, I surrender.
It was my pleasure.