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Nestled deep in a corner of an old packing shed in Dareton, New South Wales a special RAAF aircraft restoration project is taking shape. After two years of painstaking work, volunteers at the Dareton Men's Shed have unveiled the result of their efforts; revealing a magnificent, freshly painted 1954 RAAF CA-27 Sabre Fighter Jet. The next step in the restoration of the Sabre is the wings, which require extensive repair.(ABC Mildura-Swan Hill: Jennifer Douglas) Beneath dust-filled rays of sunlight, the restored metallic fuselage has been transformed by a couple of retired panel beaters who had no previous aviation experience. The Sabre, with its iconic nose cone, is the culmination of the expertise of a dedicated team of retired tradies who meet regularly at their local men's shed. Retired panel beaters Neil McDonald (left) and Greg Wood combined their efforts to restore the Sabre.(ABC Mildura-Swan Hill: Jennifer Douglas) Dareton Men's Shed volunteer and replica Spitfire pilot John Waters says the restoration project is a great example of what the many skilled men's shed members can achieve. "The Sabre's new paint job looks better than it would have straight out of the factory," Mr Waters said. The tail fin and horizontal stabiliser await the final touch — a tiger to represent the squadrons that flew the Sabre.(ABC Mildura-Swan Hill: Jennifer Douglas) Fighter in a sorry state Despite a few missing pieces, namely the wings and cockpit cover, volunteer Greg Wood is proud of how far the project has come. "It was in a fairly basic state when it arrived here in pieces," he said. "It had been dismantled completely. You pretty much couldn't have taken much more off it." The restoration is a collaboration between the Dareton Men's Shed, the Mildura RAAF Memorial and Museum, and the Mildura RSL. The huge undertaking began when local philanthropist and RAAF historian John McLaughlin made a winning blind bid for the warbird at an Australian National Aviation Museum aircraft auction. "I was pleased to have won the bid for the CA-27 Sabre," Mr McLaughlin said. "It was certainly a leap of faith, but my hope is that it will be part of a permanent static aircraft display at Mildura's RAAF museum." The CA-27 Sabre's restored canopy is nearly complete after being used as a rabbit hutch for many years.(Supplied: Greg Wood) Parts of several Sabres have been sourced for the restoration, including a replacement for the perspex canopy that was broken during a pilot ejection. Phil Roeszler is a retired motor mechanic who was tasked with the canopy restoration. "The original canopy had been in a wreck where the pilot had ejected, but the canopy didn't, so he actually went through the canopy and amazingly survived," he said. Mr Roeszler was able to find another canopy that had been used as a rabbit hutch. It has taken hours of polishing, but it is almost finished. Phil Roeszler and the Sabre's restoration team have dedicated hours of polishing to restore the canopy.(ABC Mildura-Swan Hill: Jennifer Douglas) A piece of the Cold War The Sabre's link to Mildura's wartime service is through the World War II air force training base, the Mildura Operational Training Unit (2OTU). After the end of WWII, the unit relocated to Williamtown air base at Newcastle, NSW and in 1952 reformed to begin training fighter jet pilots. The squadron changed its name to 2OCU, or Operational Conversion Unit. The CA-27 Sabre was Australia's first fighter jet able to travel at supersonic speeds, and provided frontline single-seat fighter aircraft defence in the 1950s and 1960s. Several major parts of the restored Sabre served in Australia's Cold War efforts with the 77th and 79th Squadrons at Butterworth air base, Malaysia, and at the Ubon air base in Thailand. The planes were deployed as part of Australia's South-East Asia Treaty Organisation, mobilised to defend Thailand against attack from its Communist neighbours. Sabre's final landing The restoration team is hard at work on the final phase of the static Sabre display, drilling thousands of wing rivets to repair extensive damage to the wings and undercarriage. Repairs to the Sabre's damaged wings required thousands of rivets to be replaced.(ABC Mildura-Swan Hill: Jennifer Douglas) Paul Mensch from the Mildura RSL Sub Branch said he was impressed with the progress of the restoration so far. “It’s all credit to the thousands of years of combined expertise provided by the men's shed volunteers that have made this restoration such a success," he said. "It's going to be a fantastic asset to the Mildura RAAF Memorial and Museum and a great drawcard to tell Mildura's wartime history."

We ran through an “Airplane!” scenario with the aviation department at the University of North Dakota file_1280x720-2000-v3_1.mp4 Less than a minute into a flight to Omaha, alarms started blaring. From the cockpit, the pilot uttered one worrisome word: “Yikes.” He gripped the side stick, unwittingly disengaging the autopilot, and the plane shot into the clouds. It was a dangerous maneuver for any flight crew member, especially one without any experience. “I have no clue what’s going on,” said Brett Daku, his voice barely registering over the din. Suddenly, WAPO Flight 123 fell silent. Help was on the way. Nick Wilson, an associate professor of aviation at the University of North Dakota, appeared from what would have been first class had we been flying a real plane. He approached the 19-year-old finance major and explained what had happened. “A high-altitude stall is a dramatic event and is broadly avoided,” Wilson said. “You can’t recover from it.” Unless, of course, you are in a flight simulator. Unlike real life, the high-tech training device that replicates the mechanics and challenges of flying has a reset button. It also does not judge or cause harm, except to your ego. In March, we published an article about surveys that showed many Americans think they could land a plane if they had to step in for a commercial pilot. Pilots and aviation experts were less sanguine, though they didn’t outright dismiss the idea. Brett Venhuizen, professor of aviation and chair of the aviation department at the University of North Dakota, in Grand Forks, suggested a way to test the aspirational pilots’ bravado: Stick them in one of the school’s flight simulators. Patrick Miller, a participant in the simulator test at the University of Dakota in Grand Forks, has never flown a plane before. (Andrea Sachs/The Washington Post) Setting up the simulator test At the university’s John D. Odegard School of Aerospace Sciences, students pursuing their pilot’s license log hours in the virtual reality machines. As commercial airline pilots, they will earn their type-rating certification on simulators modeled after specific aircraft. Every six months, they must demonstrate their capabilities to the airline through practice runs in a simulator. For our simulation modeled after an Airbus A320, which typically seats 140 to 170 passengers, our recruits had one objective: to successfully land the aircraft and save everyone onboard. Venhuizen was in charge of rounding up the participants. He chose four men and two women, ages 19 to 67. Four people had zero pilot experience. However, three members of the group (Patrick Miller, Meloney Linder and Daku) had played around with flight simulators and one (Alexa Vilven) had watched YouTube videos of pilots landing planes. We also had two pilots on board: Aaron Prestbo, a physician and recreational pilot from South Dakota, and Brian Dilse, a former airline pilot who worked for a major carrier in Dubai and now teaches at UND. Each participant was separated from the group until their turn, so no one could pick up any tips through observation. At the start of the exercise, Wilson handed each person a boarding pass (Washington Post Airways Flight 123 from Duluth, Minn., to Omaha, a 90-minute flight) and described the scenario: The aircraft’s two pilots were incapacitated for unexplained reasons, and the passenger would have to guide the plane to safety using all the tools available on the flight deck. For the sake of time, he said we would hopscotch over a few steps, such as accessing the code to the locked cockpit, removing the pilots’ bodies and adjusting the seat. He dropped an important hint: The pilots may or may not have been wearing some type of head gear. He was referring to the headset, an essential piece of equipment for communicating with ground personnel. Everyone entered the scene at the same point in the flight and with identical conditions. The plane was flying level at 20,000 feet, with overcast skies at 1,000 feet, calm winds and no rain in the forecast. The sky was eerily empty. And with that, Wilson wished the pilots good luck. How the novices did in the simulator Unlike nearly a third of the respondents in a YouGov survey from January, none of the novice pilots in our experiment claimed to be confident they could land a plane. Miller, a 67-year-old communications editor at UND, said his interest in World War II plane simulators might help, but he worried that he would crumble during landing. When asked if he would jump up to assist in an emergency, Daku, the college student, said he would see if another passenger would volunteer first. If no one did, he’d step in with low expectations. “Probably I will end up crashing the plane,” he said, “but who knows?” Miller was the first to fly and he immediately started asking questions, even though he had not put on the headset. Wilson and Matt Opsahl, a UND instructor, broke scene to reply. Eventually, they ceased all communication. “You’re not answering any of my questions,” Miller said, as he squinted at the primary flight display. “I’m fully on my own.” Miller porpoised through the clouds, ascending and descending several thousand feet. Thankfully, the simulator didn’t have the full motion feature, or at least one of us would have needed a bucket. Alarms shrilled and chirped after he disengaged the autopilot and hit the service ceiling, preventing the plane from flying any higher. Wilson entered the cockpit with the bemused-but-patient expression of a pee-wee coach. “This could go on for as long as we have fuel,” he said, “which could be four or five hours.” To move the test along, the instructors programmed the coordinates to the Minneapolis airport, the site of our emergency landing. Below, the flat Midwestern landscape fanned out to the fake horizon. Miller switched to manual and the plane wobbled like a baby bird thrown from its nest. The aircraft thumped to the ground but continued to roll over another runway and into what appeared to be a field. “It’s unlikely that the gear would be intact,” Wilson said. But on the bright side: We would have all survived. Result: Success Meloney Linder takes a seat in the flight simulator. (Andrea Sachs/The Washington Post) Linder, a 51-year-old vice president of communications and marketing for UND, made several smart decisions from the get-go, such as slipping on the headset and, for the most part, remembering to press the radio transmitter button when speaking. “WAPO123, this is Minneapolis ATC,” Opsahl said in his role as an air traffic controller. “We noticed that your altitude is deviating a lot. If you’re on comms, respond please.” She also made several mistakes, including a biggie that ended the game. “Oh, crap!” she exclaimed when an automated message warned, “Stall, stall, stall.” “I’m crashing.” In addition to deactivating the autopilot, Linder stalled, meaning the wings can no longer produce a lift, and banked, or caused the aircraft to list to one side — a hopeless situation. “I have so much respect for my pilots right now,” she said. Result: Fail Watching YouTube tutorials paid off for Vilven, a 31-year-old accountant for the university. Without missing a beat, she reached for the headset and called for help. Air Traffic Control: “Is there an emergency?” Vilven: “I believe so.” Air Traffic Control: “Are you able to fly the aircraft?” Vilven: “Uh, no.” Air Traffic Control: “WAPO123, we’re going to do our best to help you.” Vilven: “Gotcha.” Opsahl and Wilson, who was pretending to be a pilot sharing the same airspace, provided Vilven with the altitudes and air speeds needed to approach the Minneapolis runway. With their guidance, she lowered the flaps to slow the aircraft and dropped the landing gear. When she was within shouting distance of the runway, they advised her to deactivate autopilot. “I think I’m too high,” she said, as she missed the runway and the plane started to ascend. “I’m going up. I’m in the clouds.” A warning system activated: “Bank, bank, bank.” Air Traffic Control: “We don’t know what WAPO is doing.” Result: Fail Brian Dilse, a commercial airline pilot who teaches at UND, was a pro in the cockpit. (Andrea Sachs/The Washington Post) How the recreational pilot did in the simulator Before entering the simulator, Prestbo, a 47-year-old physician, said he would volunteer to land a plane in emergency, just as he would raise his hand to help an ill passenger. But he had a few concerns, which he later admitted had caused his leg to shake inside the simulator. “I am more confident about flying versus landing,” said Prestbo, who earned his private pilot’s certificate in 1997 and flies single-engine planes for fun. He was also worried about the unfamiliar dials, switches and levers in the cockpit. “This is out of my comfort zone,” he said as searched the panel for the radio. Luckily, he found it and connected with air traffic control and the other pilot. The pair fed him information each step of the way. Less than a half-hour into the flight, the sky started to brighten and the ground materialized below. A few miles from the runway, he disconnected the autopilot. “Okay, I have control, such that it is,” he said. “It’s real now.” The plane swayed slightly, but two minutes later, it was solidly on the ground. It took much longer for his leg to relax. Result: Success How the commercial pilot did in the simulator Dilse, who has cargo and passenger flight experience, was the one participant who had every right to be confident. And yet he wasn’t. When presented with the imaginary scenario, the 39-year-old responded, “Hopefully there is someone that actually worked for the airline and was more experienced than me with the airline. I’m not going to be the first one to jump and say, ‘I’m here to save the day.’ I’m not going to be a superhero.” He was also uncomfortable with the idea of flying solo. “You need two pilots to operate this aircraft,” he said. “So when you ask if I feel confident, I’d be lying if I said yes.” Even so, he approached the mission with a high level of professionalism and self-possession. He practiced the guiding principles of flying — aviate, navigate and communicate — and followed the advice of a British Airways instructor who recommends taking five seconds to sip “your tea” to avoid making any rash decisions. Dilse’s advanced aviation skills allowed him to tap into the plane’s sophisticated navigational and technical systems. Unlike the other pilots, he also considered a multitude of factors that could influence the outcome, such as the amount of fuel, the weather at the Minneapolis and Omaha airports, and the maximum landing weight. For his own safety, he wondered what had caused the pilots to fall ill. Depending on the answer, he might need to wear a gas mask or avoid the chicken entree. He also requested medical services to meet the plane on the runway. When he could see the ground, he set the autobrake and informed air traffic control that he could take it from here. “I’m pretty comfortable with what’s happening now,” he said. Dilse landed the plane as smoothly as a butterfly alighting on a leaf. He stopped the aircraft and cut the engines. Then he activated the PA system and spoke to the passengers. “Ladies and gentleman,” he said calmly, “everyone please remain seated.” Result: Success Takeaways from the simulations Based on our simulator experiment, no inexperienced traveler should ever volunteer to land a plane in an emergency. Even with a prodigious amount of guidance, which Wilson said was highly improbable in a real-life scenario, our recruits still cratered. However, if there are no other options, remember these invaluable lessons. Never disengage the autopilot (don’t move the side stick or press the red button). Put on the headsets and hold the switch when you speak. And take five seconds to sip your proverbial tea. The private pilot, who flew the plane with a clear head, deft hand and trembling leg, surprised the experts. “I didn’t think it was gonna go that well at all,” Opsahl said. As expected, the former airline pilot aced the test. “He did all the things that you would expect a professional aviator to do,” Wilson said, “and that led to a successful, honestly, relatively boring sequence of events compared to our other participants.” In the event of an airplane emergency, we can all hope for boring.