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A Hard Look at Cockpit Software
By Roger Rose
Aviation International News,January-February 1990 and first publication by author
My beginnings as an aviation professional were inauspicious. Which is to say, they were much like everyone else’s. Flying from small fields with basic aircraft, I gradually became versed in that indescribable but essential skill known as airmanship.
I have vivid memories of my first aviation employment, as a loadmaster on a Fokker F27, while seeking the optimum transition from Cessna 150’s to the “big iron.” On hot summer cargo flights to the Bahamas, I devised the strategy of consructing a sleeping space atop 5,000 lbs of cold milk. The very effective trap was set to lure the copilot out of his seat, into which I would then insert myself. During these impromptu lessons in flying the larger plane, I found the flight director invaluable.
The Captain (one Churchill Hungerford); however, was another story. In the aircraft Captain Hungerford had been schooled in, a flight director was unheard of. I can still hear his tenor voice complaining that I was using the command bars to excess.
“You never know, “ he would say, wagging his finger in that maddening way.
But his message was clear: Once I allowed myself to become dependent upon the command bars, I’d never be able to fly with the same confidence. I’d never be sure the thing wouldn’t quit just when I needed it most.
Having recently received my Gulfstream GIV type rating, I’ve been newly reminded of the wisdom of Captain Hungerford’s philosophy. In the 20 years since I piloted my first small Cessna, our working environment has radically changed. The Gulfstream IV is arguably the most advanced civil aircraft and promises to set the standard for years to come.
But, as my grandfather used to say, “Fleas can live even on a highly bred dog.”
At first sight, the unpowered flight displays of the Gulfstream IV are dark and foreboding. Once powered up, they become colorfully foreboding, like an unfamiliar video game. The initial problem is that they deluge the pilot with information.
After a few deep breaths, we see that this is largely the same information we’ve used for years, but in a highly compacted form. Within a few hours of exposure to the basic flight director modes, most pilots are delighted with the simplicity of these primary flight displays.
The flight management system (FMS) is not nearly as friendly, offering the new pilot a bewildering complex of navigational and display possibilities. But within 10-20 hours, most pilots are able to master the essential functions.
The primary flight displays (PFDs) easily permit manual flying of the aircraft to finer tolerances than might be expected of conventional instrumentation or even conventional EFIS. Since the critical flight information is compacted, the pilot’s scan is greatly simplified. Even the airspeed and altimeter tape displays, which initially cause confusion, rapidly prove superior. No longer is it necessary to gather information from one location to another.
In fact, it is all so simple that the pilot experienced in the up-to-the-minute technology may experience discomfort upon returning to conventional instrumentation. Obviously, when all aircraft have incorporated the same standard, this will be less of a problem. But until then there are bound to be some difficulties in those flight departments that operate several aircraft with significantly different flight displays and technology.
So seductive are these new displays that pilots in simulator and flight training show a tendency to become so engrossed in the FMS that they neglect other important concerns. We all have a stong instinct to assist when another pilot is having difficulty in a work situation, and when our stations are nearly identical and our goals inseperable, it may be hard to remember that it is still an airplane operating near other airplanes and / or hazards.
In instrument approaches, most of us are conditioned to routines, “I’m on the gauges and you’re outside” has worked for years. However, with these new technologies, simple crew coordination and discipline are more essential than ever to ensure that both pilots are not transfixed by the computers.
Six years of flying corporate aviation’s “big iron” have led me to reaffirm Captain Hungerford’s warning against excessive reliance upon automated flight. I’ve witnessed far too many instances of mundane automated flight hours punctuated by adrenalin-charged takeoffs and sweaty approaches.
Undoubtedly, automation has its place in our profession and ultimately contributes to flying safety. However, since we “never know”, we must never allow our basic skills to deteriorate to the point where our using them causes us additional stress. Should our advanced technological systems fail, we will need to feel comfortable with the fundamentals.
Ask any pilot who has witnessed a “black” glass cockpit.
I do not mean this cautionary advice to be a call to panic. Software and human factors engineers endeavour to design flight displays that allow the easiest pilot interpretation. Our avionics staff will toil to keep it all working, and the potential for lawsuits guarantees that there will always be a gimballed “iron” horizon, airspeed and altimeter available if the rest goes “black”. So if we maintain our entire range of skills, from bailing wire and cloth to composites and microprocessors, we have little to fear.
The new technology, like the old, is no better than the pilot who uses it. Neither panacea nor pariah, it can be a useful tool for the intelligent airman who acknowledges its limitations while making full use of its strengths.
About the Author (in 1990)
Roger Rose, ATP/GIV/G1159/G159/DA20/F27, has spent the last 12 years living and working in Europe and the Middle East. He has recently returned from Geneva and is employed by the Golden Goose Company, a Part 135 carrier operating Gulfstream I and Gulfstream IV aircraft world-wide from Austin, TX.
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 23 October 2008 )
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