The Thunderbirds swoop into town for a display of aerial thrills

Kimberley McGee

Friday, May 5, 2000 | 9:22 a.m.

What: Air Show 2000.

When: 8 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday.

Where: Nellis Air Force Base.

Cost: Free.

Information: Call 652-2750.

For many, there is something romantic, enticing and mysterious about airplanes. The gleaming metal machines portray quiet power and strength as they sit on the tarmac. In the air, they are a show of what man is capable of building and achieving.

For those who feel the mystique of sky travel, the Air Show 2000 on Saturday at Nellis Air Force Base is a chance to get up close and personal with military jet fighters, antique aircraft and state-of-the-art flying machines.

A highlight of the show is a performance by the United States Air Force Air Demonstration Squadron, better known as the Thunderbirds, which is based at Nellis. The red, white and blue jets of the six-man squad will shake, rattle and roar at breathtaking speeds, at times a little more than 100 feet off the ground in an aerial ballet for the crowd.

The show also will feature demonstrations by the Canadian Skyhawks, Toyota Air Demonstration Team, America Online Air Demonstration Team and other world-class flying teams.

Maj. Dean Wright, lead solo pilot for the Thunderbirds, said that air shows are a looking glass into the flying arena.

"An air show gives you that insight," Wright said. "It's as close as you are going to get to these planes."

These days the Thunderbirds fly F-16C Fighting Falcons, which will be on display. The supersonic streamlined combat machines can fly at speeds of 1,500 mph and cost about $20 million per plane. The one-man craft stands 16 feet tall and just over 49 feet long.

"It's a powerful machine strapped to your butt," Wright said. "There's a feeling of responsibility to Uncle Sam and the public."

The Thunderbirds debuted in 1953 at the 3600th Air Demonstration Unit at Luke Air Force Base, Ariz.

"Then, the public was scared," Wright said. "They thought it was something out of Buck Rogers."

The Thunderbirds were a way to allow the public to learn how advanced the Air Force was and to instill the feeling that they could sleep safe and warm during the Cold War.

"The mission of the Thunderbirds is unique because it is not to go to combat, but to show the public what the Air Force is capable of," Wright said. "We are not demigods -- an average Joe can do this."

An average Joe with a college degree, more than 1,000 hours of flying time (which takes more than four years to accumulate) -- and the reflexes of a cat in a dog pound.

"We learn not to flinch, it's just something you have to have," Wright said.

The jets fly in a diamond formation with wing tips 18 inches apart -- about the distance from the tip of the tail to the tip of the nose of an average small dog. From there, pilots can perform a number of choreographed maneuvers.

For instance, a pilot will roll 360 degrees from a standard diamond formation, fly in front of the crowd, roll in a complete circle in front of the gape-mouthed guests, reverse his direction and roar back past the stunned audience in a maneuver that is called a Split S -- at 400 mph.

The maneuvers that impress the crowd are the same ones that fighter pilots are trained for; however, they are completed in tighter formation, lower to the ground, and with background music to jazz it up for the fans on land.

"I fly upside down at 150 feet in front of a crowd and do an inverted role," Wright said. "It's incredibly different than (most) flying. It's a rush."

Under normal conditions, pilots must fly a minimum of 5,000 feet above the ground and maintain a multitude of rigid safety rules. But that's for the birds.

"You don't get the same sense of ground rush at 5,000 feet," Wright said. "There's not the same feeling of danger (and) the potential of danger is there. It's an adrenaline rush."

To achieve that rush with a minimum of danger, pilots train at their comfort level of flying and inch closer and closer to the other planes in the formation until eventually they are within a few feet of each other.

Although he is confident in his ability and those of the other pilots, Wright is aware of the gamble he takes each time he climbs into the cockpit of his Falcon.

"There is always a risk," he said. "I say a prayer every time I go up that God blesses the reaction time of the pilots."

The squad travels more than 200 days a year to 55 shows around the country. That's a lot of time to spend away from the home fires in a tiny plane with up to nine times the gravity force pushing on your chest. For this reason, pilots can get burned out and are therefore only allowed two years on the squad. The positions also prompt vigorous competition with more than 30 applicants for the three available spots open each year.

The top 10 percent of Air Force pilots may fly fighter aircraft. The average Thunderbird pilot has logged more than 2,000 hours of time, or about 10 years of flying.

"There's a lot of stepping stones to get there," Wright said.

His journey to the hot seat began as a young boy in Austin, Texas, where he experienced his first air show. He was impressed with the powerful jets and the men who sat beneath the plane's shining glass canopies.

"It left quite a mark on me," he said. "They all looked real sharp. (The pilots) struck me as role models. I thought they were the coolest guys out there."

That memory strayed to the far corners of his mind as he grew up. But the young boy never forgot.

"You know how kids are, it's kind of a pipe dream," he said. "It's not something you carry out."

By the time Wright hit high school, though, he decided to aim high.

"I thought I should go for it," he said. "I'd always dreamed of being a Thunderbird."

Although he has fulfilled his little-boy fantasy, Wright sometimes loses sight of why he became a pilot. But he still sees it through the wide eyes of the smitten 7-year-old he was that day in Austin.

"Sometimes I have to take a step back and remind myself that this was a dream I had as a kid, otherwise it might pass me by in the blink of an eye," Wright said. "It's a style of flying I'll never have the opportunity to do again."

The glory of the ride can go to his head, but his wife, Andrea, and their son, Jack, keep him, well, grounded.

"I still have to pooper-scoop my yard and change the diapers -- and cook every once in a while," he said. "It's a very romantic, thrilling type of profession."

Each pilot carries a 3-by-5-inch photo of his family to remind him of what he is there for, Wright said.

"It's an ego thing up there -- you want to push yourself beyond your limits," he said. "You want to see if you can get closer (to the ground) but that picture is there to say 'Hey ... come home.' "

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