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Many misconceptions about a commercial pilot’s job relate to the fact that there are two of us seated at the controls. Who’s doing what — and when and why? The answers are a function of both rank and role.
At my airline, like most, one pilot — who wears four stripes on their jacket sleeves and epaulettes, and sports a somewhat blingier hat — holds the rank of captain. The other — bearing only two or three stripes — ranks as first officer. Bear in mind, however, that “co-pilot” is another term for first officer (a confusing one, as all of us are pilots) and that some other airlines term their newest pilots “second officers”.
Most pilots want to become captains (though no rule says we must), promotion to which depends on seniority and the completion of a command course. As colleagues retire and new ones join, a pilot’s seniority rises, allowing us to bid against colleagues for different aircraft types but also for “a command”. Eventually, our bid on our chosen aircraft type will be successful — as mine was last autumn on the Boeing 787 — and we are assigned a command course.
The course that will transform first officers into captains has little to do with our flying skills or with our technical knowledge, both of which we’ll have demonstrated from our first day as first officers. Instead, the training captains who undertake command training focus on helping new captains assume responsibility for “all aspects of safety, security and customer service” — ie, for everything, from the first moment we step on board. And it’s why the courses place such an emphasis on leadership skills, structured decision-making, and the professional development of first officers.
A command course is recognised as the most challenging time in a pilot’s career. Mine began with four days in a classroom at British Airways’ corporate headquarters, days that were packed with modules on topics such as security and aviation law.
Next came six days in the full-motion flight simulators at our training base to the east of Heathrow. All pilots undergo two days of simulator checks every six months, but these “command sims” were more challenging than any previous training I’ve ever undertaken. Some involved complex or cascading failures that were impossible to resolve with a single checklist. Others combined malfunctions — a loss of a hydraulic system, for example — with a non-technical issue such as a critically ill passenger. In these scenarios we’re often advised to hand the flying over to the first officer, freeing us to concentrate on decision-making.
Another change we must accustom ourselves to is that, while our flying skills were long ago honed as first officers in the right-hand seat, captains sit on the left — hence our transformation into captains is informally known as a “seat change”. After two decades of manoeuvring the Airbus A320, the Boeing 747, and then the Boeing 787 with my right hand and controlling the thrust with my left, at first it felt mighty strange to swap. Perhaps I had it easier, however, as like a disproportionate share of the pilot community I’m left-handed.
The simulator phase is followed by training trips in the left-hand seat — otherwise ordinary flights during which we’re paired with a training captain in the right-hand seat pretending to be a first officer. (My first job was to remember to introduce myself as the captain on the PA.) These are followed by exam flights where the training captain again acts as a first officer while another eagle-eyed training captain — one of the handful authorised to conduct command checks — observes from the jump seat. After parking the 787 at the end of my last exam sector, during which I had flown from a foul autumn night in JFK to an almost impossibly bright morning in London, the examiner shook my hand, gave me a card signed by all the cabin crew, and passed me a set of four-stripe epaulettes, smiling as he helped me attach them.
This, then, is rank. There are also our roles. Before each flight, the captain will either assume the role of P1, or delegate it to the first officer. P1 is responsible for inspecting the aircraft exterior, initiating briefings, calling for checklists, and performing most of the actual flying. The other pilot, P2, is tasked with supporting P1 by setting up the flight deck, completing the procedures that precede each checklist, dealing with most of the paperwork — it’s nearly all digital now, on our trusty iPads — managing the radios, and monitoring P1’s flying.
Two aspects of this bear emphasis. First, the division between P1 and P2 roles — essentially, they’re two different jobs, which is why exams like a command check typically involve two flights — is one of commercial aviation’s bedrocks. It’s reflected in the design of the flight deck, the format of all our e-manuals and even our language, most of which is based on role-specific challenges and responses.
Second, while the captain may choose to be P1 in adverse weather conditions such as strong winds or low visibility, and always retains full responsibility for the flight even when they’re acting as P2, first officers are expected to take responsibility for managing their P1 sectors. This may include leading the briefings with cabin crew, liaising with engineers and ground staff, initiating decision-making processes, and making every announcement to customers. So, regular travellers, take note: half the time it’s the first officer, not the captain, who’s just steered you safely across the world.
Mark Vanhoenacker is a Boeing 787 pilot for British Airways and the author of ‘Imagine a City’ (Chatto & Windus/Knopf). Follow Mark on X, formerly Twitter, @markv747 or email him at mark.vanhoenacker@ft.com
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