Many of my tales about flying have some link to what went wrong — some misfortune, some lucky break. But every now and then, I did something right, and taking my brother flying in a CF-18 Hornet was one of those choice moments.
Clarke Flynn was an Olympic bobsledder and competed in the 1984 Olympics in Sarajevo. During my years flying CF-18s based at CFB Baden-Söllingen, Germany, Clarke and his teammates would spend their winters also in Europe, competing on the bobsled circuit.
1984 Canadian Olympic 4 Man Bobsled Team
I was so busy flying my ass off and learning to be a fighter pilot that I never took the time to travel to the bobsled tracks to watch them compete. It was one of those losses of perspective as a young man, where I missed what was a very special time in our lives.
My brother moved on beyond competing and became a CBC broadcaster during subsequent Olympics for the sport. As many know, the Canadian teams got better and better over the years, ultimately winning a gold medal at the 1998 Nagano Games in two-man bobsled. Dave McEachern was the brakeman on that team, which brought back the first bobsled gold medal to Canada since 1964.
Pierre Leuders / Dave MacEachern – Nagano 1998 Olympics
In that same time frame, I was the Commanding Officer of 441 Tactical Fighter Squadron, an operational CF-18 squadron based in Cold Lake, Alberta. We hatched a plan — I’m sure I asked permission at some point — to bring the gold medal to Cold Lake for our men and women to see. We would give CF-18 flights to the three guys who came up north: Dave McEachern, Chris Lori (who had raced in the same era as my brother), and Clarke. The quid pro quo was that some of our folks would be invited down to the Calgary Olympic bobsled track to ride it.
Self, Clarke Flynn, aviation historian and author Larry Milberry, Dave MacEachern, Chris Lori…all smiles before actually flying!
We planned a day of flying, then an evening event with our squadron to host them and show off the gold medal.
Everyone who has ever flown in a fighter knows the stats: 97% of all humans get sick on their first flight in a fighter jet. Wearing strange flight clothing, strapped into an ejection seat, helmet and oxygen mask on, crammed into a tiny cockpit, very claustrophobic for most amid the violence and aggressiveness of flying a supersonic 7.5-G jet — it can be too much for virtually everyone. Most of us get past the uneasiness after a couple of flights, but when you only get one flight, it’s a crapshoot whether you’ll be sick or not.
I remember the night before the flights, after the guys arrived up north, hosting them at a local restaurant and explaining all of this. I told them what would happen and reminded them to keep the bravado in check. But these were Olympic athletes, and there was a lot of testosterone flowing.
I warned them, and they didn’t listen. The day consisted of breakfast, then fitting flight clothing, safety briefings, and mission planning. My young son, Bret, four at the time, was there with his uncle. It was a fun day for all, overflowing with bravado.
I was going to take Clarke flying — a once-in-a-lifetime event — and I told him what we’d accomplish: supersonic flight, loops, rolls, some air combat, super-low flying, pulling 7.5 G, and formation flying with the other jets. This wasn’t my first rodeo; I knew all the hero shots had to be taken before the flight. It was unlikely these guys would look that good after getting wrung out in a CF-18 for an hour and a half.
Hero shots BEFORE flying including with 4 year old Bret Flynn
Photos done and strapped into the jet, we headed off to fly. There was a planned sequence, with plenty of explanation of what we were doing — then aerobatics, then quiet in the back seat, which we all know meant Clarke was not doing well anymore.
Our trick is to have the passenger fly the jet himself, to give him something to concentrate on — often helpful, but sometimes too late, as was the case with my brother. He was past feeling okay and was basically trying to hang on and not die. Yet we still had 7.5 G to accomplish, and aerobatics. Warnings given, advice unheeded, but a profile to execute: 7.5-G turns, loops, and rolls. Clarke was awake but not talking much by the end.
Although not sick, he was pretty green by the time we landed and shut down. One of his peers wasn’t so lucky and managed to paint the rear cockpit of one of the jets with his breakfast — and, unfortunately, didn’t know that whoever gets sick has to clean it up afterward. That lesson was learned later that day and once it was explained to him, he wisely bought our groundcrew 24 beers as a thank-you for their help.
In the end, we got all three back on the ground, cleaned them up, and let them rest before our planned evening event. Clarke spent the afternoon comatose on the couch in my office, unable to move. Flying the jet kicked his ass…all bravado was gone that afternoon.
These were very big, tough athletes — bobsledding is an extremely fast and often violent sport. Yet having them with our squadron, seeing a gold medal, especially alongside such an extraordinarily humble and gracious man as Dave McEachern, was very special for all. That alone was worth the effort — a truly unique, once-in-a-lifetime event.
The payoff for our squadron was two sets of trips from Cold Lake to Calgary so our men and women could ride the bobsled track. One of our drivers was up front, my brother Clarke in the back as brakeman, and our folks squeezed into the second and third positions of the sled. Everyone loved the ride and explained it to me like this: the first 30 seconds of not much, then 30 seconds of impressive speed, and the final 30 seconds of absolute terror — we-are-going-to-die speed. It left a mark on every one of our fellows who rode the track.
I never did ride the bobsled track myself; that treat was saved for my personnel. But I got to fly a fighter jet with my brother. It was very special exposing my brother to the magic of flying a fighter. We can talk about it all day long, but sharing it is something else entirely. And for Clarke, with a father who was also a fighter pilot, he got a one time look into the world that he grew up around.
Every now and then, I made the right choice. The gold medal ride was one of those times.
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