![]() ![]() (Image credit: USAF)ĭuring that year I was, along with the two Academy classmates that had been selected with me, an “ascaro”: that was the nickname that was given to the new guys. Two other possible destinations were in Europe: the École du Personnel Navigant d’Essays et de Réception (EPNER) in Istres, France, withe the Armée de l’Air, and the Empire TPS in Boscombe Down, with the Royal Air Force. At that time the Italian Air Force was sending its people to the United States, either to the USAF Test Pilot School, in Edwards AFB, California, or to the USNTPS, in Patuxent River. So the routine was, and still is, to spend about a year, give or take a few months, waiting for a slot at one of the Test Pilot Schools to which the RSV would send its newbies. When someone joins this elite outfit he does so not being yet qualified as a test pilot. I was based in Pratica di Mare AB, near Rome. I went through War College, in Florence, and then I was enrolled in the 311° Gruppo Volo of the RSV, the flying arm of the Italian OTC. I got the news that I had been chosen to join the prestigious RSV just few days before the tragic Frecce Tricolori’s incident in Ramstein. I was flying the old F-104G, the howling one, and having the time of my life. At that time I was a 27 years old lieutenant: a combat-ready fighter pilot of the 28° Gruppo (Squadron) “Streghe” (Italian for Witches) of the 3° Stormo (Wing), out of Villafranca Air Base, Italy. ![]() I was selected to join the Reparto Sperimentale Volo (RSV), the Italian Air Force Official Test Center (OTC) in late spring 1988. An Italian on the BUFF at the USAF Test Pilot School. ![]()
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