PAGE THREE
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John Church was one of the
first to field a civilian Bearcat. The tall tail identifies this
as a -2. |
I reduced power to a normal climb setting and kept going up until I
had 10,000 feet. I set up a low cruise combination of 31 inches and
1900 rpm, and as soon as I lowered the nose, the airspeed leaped ahead
to 200 knots, finally stabilizing at 215 knots. At that altitude that
was 275 mph TAS!
The airplane is everything you could hope for. The controls
are all light, as light as many aerobatic birds, and incredibly responsive.
Normal flight is more a matter of thinking than moving,
and rolls are a simple matter of putting the stick to one side.
The first time I rolled it, I dived (at 275 mph, I don't know why)
and pulled the nose up above the horizon. I picked up 700 feet in the
entry and another 700 in the roll. Four points, eight points, whatever
I wanted—they were all razor sharp. I could almost hear it squeak
as it came to a halt in a knife-edge position for a four-point roll.
Talk about unlimited maneuverability! Here were the controls and the
power one needed to go anywhere, do anything. I went screaming around
corners at 5 Gs, sneaked up to 350 knots in a dive, pulling up into
chandelles that ate up 4,000 feet or more. It was absolutely beautiful!
From the flying standpoint, it was head and shoulders above the Mustang—and
remember, I have a real love thing for Mustangs.
I had expected it to be a real performer at high speeds, so I pulled
back the power to see what it did at the other end of the spectrum.
It takes a long time to get rid of that much speed, and I gained a
couple thousand feet in the process. For that matter, I gained 1,000
feet every time I did anything! I tried the first stall clean, with
nothing hanging out. As I came down through 100 knots, the stick shook
violently once, and a wing dropped immediately. It was every bit as
bad as the Mustang. Lowering the gear and flaps, the stall speed came
down under 75 knots, with the same superbrief shudder preceding
the stall—and the stall was something else! The buffet doesn't
give you enough time to do anything about it and the nose drops hard,
twisting violently left. I initiated recovery immediately, but the
wings still approached vertical. The big rudder is tremendously effective
in controlling the stall, but it seems to me if you stalled this airplane
anywhere in the pattern, you might as well forget recovery.
I wasn't sure how much gas I had aboard, and I knew I was guzzling
about 100 gallons an hour, so I regrettably headed back to the airport.
I have been fortunate enough to fly a tremendous number of different
airplanes, but I don't remember feeling this badly about having
to give a man his airplane back. It has to be the original pilot's
airplane. See a cloud you want to inspect—add a few inches of
manifold pressure, and squirt over it. Want to see 300 knots on the
gauge? Just drop the nose slightly. Want to peg the rate of climb at
6,000? Just pull when coming out of a dive. It's the most impressive
performing airplane I've ever been in. The Mustang is going to have
to settle for second place in my heart.
I always seem to have trouble getting airplanes like this
down from altitude in a reasonable length of time, so this
time I played with it a little. Even at low, low airspeeds, it didn't
come down very fast, and I didn't want to dirty up, just to lose altitude.
At 170 knots, I moved the prop pitch up to 2700 rpm and it was just
as if I'd thrown out an anchor. Those big fat blades flattened out
and I was actually thrown forward against my straps. In nothing flat
I was down to pattern altitude.
I dropped the gear and flew the pattern exactly as I had before, but
this time I was determined to get the nose high enough on touchdown.
In an effort to head off the building stick pressures at flare-out,
I trimmed just aft of neutral. It worked, because I accidentally made
as good a landing as I've ever made. I purposely staved off the brakes
to see how long it would roll—it came to a dead stop in front
of the first intersection, which means it used less than 2,200 feet
in a no-brake landing! I had a pretty good wind to help slow me down,
but it was just the opposite of the Mustang, which just doesn't want
to stop.
My overall impression of the airplane is one of total amazement. The
performance is beyond anything we civilian types can understand. The
aerial handling is an absolute dream come true, but at the
same time, the takeoff and landing characteristics make
me think it should have been named Pussycat instead of Bearcat.
This may be one of the most dangerous aspects of the aircraft. It is
so stable and relatively easy to fly that you could become overconfident
and get yourself sucked into a corner your talent can't get you out
of. There are certain things that you just don't do with that much
power up front. You don't let it get close to stall, because there's
no warning buffet or partial stall. And you want to treat the throttle
with the same respect you'd give a hand grenade. When such a small
airplane is hooked to such a big engine and propeller, all power
changes should be on the timid side. Even though it shows no torque
when flown gently and correctly, I have a hunch you'd only forget
the tailwheel lock once. That power would also break you of any
habit of lifting the tail too soon. In my rather limited experience,
if you treat the airplane with respect, it's possibly the easiest
flying fighter ever built.
The great Al Williams, who flew a Bearcat as the last of his famous
Gulfhawk series of airshow airplanes, once said, ".... if you
bail out of a Bearcat, it'll head for the nearest airport and land." And
I'm inclined to agree.
It's really too bad the Bearcat is a little on the homely side when
compared to such things as the P-51 or the Spitfire, because
it's head and shoulders above them in pure pilot excitement. Funny
thing, through—it doesn't look nearly as homely once you've flown
it. BD
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lots more pilot reports like this one go to PILOT
REPORTS
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