“Go around.” 

I really did not want to hear those words from my T-37 instructor pilot.  It meant he felt my landing attempt was unsalvageable. 

“Roger.  Going around.”  I pushed the throttles forward to full-mil (100%), raised the nose of my T-37 jet trainer slightly, and aborted the landing.  I kept my aircraft pointed down the runway and began to climb.  I cleaned up the aircraft (raised the landing gear and the flaps) and accelerated.  Then I re-entered the traffic pattern and circled around to set up for another landing attempt. 

Once we were safely level at 1500 ft. AGL (Above Ground Level), the IP (Instructor Pilot) told me what I had done wrong.  “You were drug in and slow.  And you were too far down the runway.”  Translation: I was too low to the ground, coming in at too shallow an angle (“drug in”), my airspeed was too low, and I had let too much of the length of the runway pass before attempting to land the aircraft.  “There is nothing more worthless,” he said, “than altitude above you and runway behind you.  You need to recognize that, Belt.” 

The year was 1984, and I was a very new, very young USAF student pilot at Columbus AFB in Mississippi.  I hadn’t landed the T-37 (or any aircraft) very many times, so I was expected to make mistakes, but I should have been the one to recognize that the landing wasn’t going to work.  I should have been the one to say, “I’m going around.”  Instead, my IP had to tell me to do it. 

I was frustrated and embarrassed, not so much for making a mistake, but for failing to recognize that I needed to abort the landing and try again. 

But on the other hand, that was why I had an instructor: to help me see that I needed to reset and start over.  Even when I flew solo, there were instructor pilots on the ground watching my landings.  These earth-bound observers were stationed in a small building next to the runway.  This shack was called the RSU (Runway Supervisory Unit).  An IP in the RSU would watch each landing through binoculars, and if he saw something amiss, he would radio, “Go around.”  For example, if a student pilot attempted to land without lowering the landing gear (and yes, that happened more often than you might think), an IP in the RSU would say, “Short final, gear.  Go around.”  And hopefully, the chagrined student pilot would go around before become a flaming crater on the runway.  Hopefully, he would live to learn from his mistake. 

In my particular case, the situation was all my fault.  I was the one who came in too low, too slow, and took too long to attempt the landing.  In other words, my problem was entirely self-inflicted.  Other times, however, that wasn’t the case.  Sometimes you have to go around because of factors beyond your control. 

The textbook example is known as “the bus of nuns and orphans.”  This scenario is typified by a bus filled with the proverbial habit-clad women and unfortunate children suddenly pulling onto the runway in front of you, forcing you to abort your landing attempt.  Other scenarios might involve an unexpected wind-shear (a sudden drop in airspeed caused by a rapid shift in the wind), a flock of birds flying over the runway, a dog running onto the runway, a sudden malfunction (such as an engine light) or a landing gear indicator going out, or any number of unforeseen obstacles.  In each case, it was critical that you recognize the situation and “go around.” 

What you must NEVER do is try to salvage an unsalvageable landing.  In other words, you have to recognize that it’s time start over and never let your pride get in the way of a safe return to earth. 

“Going around” doesn’t erase the original situation.  It is, however, an opportunity to learn and grow (and live to fly another day).  If the problem was self-inflicted, you need to learn from your mistake and don’t repeat it.  If the problem is forced upon you in spite of your best efforts, you still have the opportunity to learn and grow.  If you recognize the problem yourself, great.  If you don’t recognize the problem, there are others to help you recognize what you cannot see or are too inexperienced to discern.  In aviation, that’s why we have instructors, co-pilots, aircraft commanders, and the RSU.  When we’re in the “cockpit of everyday life,” that’s why we have parents, bishops, home-teachers, and true friends.  These people love us and want us to return home safely.  That’s why they tell us sometimes that we need to “go around.”