Tallyho, with you, any traffic please advise, I heard them all. As an instructor, teaching correct radio phraseology is an uphill battle; my students hear so many bad examples on the frequency. Many pilots don’t understand that it is not only a safety-of-flight issue but also in their own best interest. When a controller hears a crisp, to-the-point readback or a correctly formulated request with only what he needs, but all that he needs, he is more likely to grant the request. This article is born out of my frustration and endless explanations of why correct radio phraseology matters. It is not exhaustive by any means, as that would take up more space than is available; it just covers a few issues that frustrate me.
Parrot Pitfall
We learn to fly by following what others do: first, instructors; then, other pilots. It works great, except for the radio. There are so many bad examples that you can hear, things that are never corrected, that it is no surprise that bad habits perpetuate. As an instructor, I also need to choose my battles, sometimes correcting phraseology must be postponed, because more important issues need to be addressed first. And round and round it goes.
Other than the usual culprits, which I will get to in a minute, my biggest frustration is with pilots who repeat every word the controller says verbatim. Every. Single. Word.
“Cirrus 3AB, turn left heading 150, expect vectors to final”. And here it goes: “turn left heading 150, expect vectors to final, Cirrus 3AB” comes a perky reply. Yes, she could say “left 150, Cirrus 3AB”, but the reason for my frustration is less that it takes time on the frequency, but more that it increases the risks of miscommunication. Word-by-word repetition is mechanical and can be done without understanding what you are saying. “Cirrus 3AB, slow down to 70 knots, you are following a Citabria on 3 miles final” and the reply comes … Yes, you guessed it, word for word, and the pilot happily continues at 120 knots on downwind. He never heard 70 knots; he understood that he was following someone and mechanically read back the rest.
When a person repeats instructions exactly, they often use phonological looping—a function of short-term memory that stores sounds without necessarily attaching meaning to them. For example, you can repeat a sentence in a language you don’t speak if you can mimic the sounds. Exact repetition stays at the “surface” of the language. To truly understand, the brain must move from syntax (the order of words) to semantics (the meaning of concepts).
By repeating the controller’s exact words, the pilot reduces immediate mental effort but increases the risk of misunderstanding the instruction. Repeating “turn left heading 150” is a linguistic task; understanding that the turn will put the aircraft on the final approach course intercept is a spatial task.
In aviation, a “read-back” is only half of the safety loop; the other half is the “hear-back.” A pilot may repeat “climb and maintain 4000” while their brain is actually primed for “6000.” He says the correct numbers because he just heard them, but he may still dial the wrong altitude into the altitude selector.
Verbatim read-backs provide a false sense of security. If the tower asks you to “report over the cement plant” and you read it back, she assumes you know where the cement plant is and how to fly there. It may seem obvious that you shouldn’t say that if you don’t know where the cement plant is, but I’ve seen many pilots so used to word-for-word readback that they do it, then frantically look at the charts to find it.
What’s worse, if a controller is busy, she may hear the pilot’s voice and rhythm and assume the readback was correct. This is called expectation bias—hearing what you expect to hear rather than what was actually said.
If you develop the discipline of reading back only the required items, you will understand ATC instructions better and be better prepared to follow them. You will also be able to remember and read back instructions with multiple items (heading, altitude, clearance), because they are no longer abstract symbols in your mind; they have meaning.
I have him on fish finder
Oh, the traffic calls. According to the pilot-controller glossary, there are only two replies when the controller says. “Traffic 3 o’clock, 2 miles, same altitude”. You can say “traffic in sight” or “negative contact”. Many pilots substitute “looking for traffic” for the second one. When you say, “traffic in sight”, it means that you see it with your own eyeballs, not with some electronic gizmo. When pilots reply, “I have him on ADSB”, that uses frequency for no good reason, the controller will keep pointing out the traffic until you confirm you see it.
It was a nice weekend day, a day when it seemed that everybody with a pilot’s license was in the air. The frequency was packed, and a controller was issuing instructions and traffic calls without any breaks. He pointed traffic to a Cessna, to which a lovely baritone voice, in a real Chuck Yeager style, replied, “I think I see him.” This was followed by silence and an exasperated reply: “Sir, you don’t think, you either have traffic in sight, or you don’t.”
If you replied that you have traffic in sight, the separation is now on you, and it reduces controller workload. If you replied, “negative contact,” and then spot traffic, use your best judgment and common sense to inform the controller. Keep in mind that the controller may turn you if there is a risk of collision, so it is in your best interest to let him know. If the traffic had already passed and the frequency is very busy, I wouldn’t bother.
Forbidden words
I was giving a flight review to a proficient and current pilot, and we were flying his Cirrus N21AB (not a real call sign, but it was 4 characters long). The controller issued the instruction: “Cirrus 21AB, turn left heading 050,” and he read back “left to five zero, for two one alpha bravo”. Do you see the problem? Does he turn 250 or 050?
I pointed this out to the pilot, who agreed with me enthusiastically and vowed to ban the word “for” forever from his vocabulary. (Do you see what I did here?). This lasted about four transmissions (here it goes again), when he started “foring” and “toing” again. Upon realizing what he had said, he slapped himself in the face, saying this was his method for fixing problems like that. The pattern repeated itself a few times, and the pilot’s face was red when we landed.
Instead of saying “3AB, leaving 3000 for 2000”, you can say “3AB, 3000 descending 2000”. Instead of “turning left to five zero”, you should say “left 050”. If you are a student pilot or still have only a few hundred hours, force yourself to drop these words, ask your instructor, or record yourself. It is easy to fix these issues early on. When you have a few thousand hours when you try, you may end up with a red face.
Untowered airports
I could easily write a novel on this subject. “Cirrus 123AB, at the river and the bridge”, “Cessna 7SP by the high school”, “Piper 8AC over the hospital”. All that is great for locals, but a transient pilot must now fetch Google Maps to find it. Sometimes I’d like to ask, “You mean the one we went to with Charlie, or the one where Alice was?” Larger geographical features that everybody can see are fine, but how am I supposed to know where the hospital is?
“Cirrus 123AB, turning crosswind, 3AB”. Which runway, please? What airport? Did you notice that people who start transmission with their call sign often end it with the call sign? Repetition is not completely wrong, but it should be “Podunk Traffic, white Cirrus 3AB, left crosswind runway 30, Podunk”.
Some flight schools have cute FAA-approved call signs, such as “Bay Flight 23”. It is cute, but it is a bad idea, because we don’t know anymore if it is a low-wing or a high-wing airplane. The FAA recommends using call signs rather than colors; I say both because it helps people recognize me. The name of the airport should be followed by the word “traffic”, and the transmission should terminate with the name of the airport without that word. That makes it easier for people who heard only part of it.
“Podunk traffic, Cirrus 3AB, straight out 30, last call”. Here is what my friend Chat says about it:
“Last call” is not approved phraseology because it is non‑standard, adds no operational information, can be ambiguous, and needlessly occupies frequency time that could block more critical traffic advisories.
“Podunk traffic, Cirrus 3AB, upwind 30, departing to the West, Podunk” is nice, crisp, and says all that needs to be said.
Say what you want
“N123AB, say approach request”, and a pilot replies, “Approach, we will take what is best for you”. This pilot wants to be helpful and make it easy for the controller, but in reality, he is just chewing frequency and brain cycles. The controller asked a question; he wanted a reply. It is as simple as that. He is not paid to figure out what approach works best for you; he only wants to know what you need. If you don’t know yet, say “standby”, figure it out, and get back to him.
You fly a practice instrument approach to an airport with a very long runway, and the FBO is close to the end. After the touchdown, the tower tells you to roll till the end, which you dutifully read back and continue. Once there, you are switched to the ground, and you ask for a 2-mile taxi back. You can almost hear somebody laughing in the background. Before you got there, you should have studied the airport diagram, realized the controller might assume you wanted to go to the FBO, and been ready to request an early turnoff.
Radio lessons
There is nothing more frustrating than yelling or open conflicts on the frequency. We fly with a pre-solo student pilot, practicing patterns and landings when an unhelpful call comes in: “Cirrus on the downwind, you shouldn’t be flying that wide pattern”. There are a few ways to handle this. You could start to argue that the pattern is just fine, that it is a student pilot practicing, or that it is none of your business. None of which would calm the situation, get the arrogant master of the sky off your back, or calm your student. You could ignore it; that could be an infuriating response to the professor, and if he is in a bad mood, he might continue. Or you could thank him for the advice, without any sarcasm in your tone. I tend to ignore such calls; the last option exceeds my tolerance level.
Pilots are not the only ones at fault; controllers sometimes launch pilot education campaigns. We had a local TRACON controller who took it upon himself to educate every single pilot that replying “3AB” isn’t the approved phraseology, you must say “Cirrus 3AB”. He was correct, according to the pilot-controller glossary, but that is not the time and place for such comments. Unlike in pilot transmission, I don’t ignore such comments; I thank them. Well, most of the time. 😊
Say something
Every controller transmission should elicit a reply from the pilot, if only to acknowledge the reception. A debatable exception is a request to ident, because the ident itself serves as the acknowledgment. A simple reply “Ident, 3AB” takes two seconds and guards against equipment failures, compensates for radar sweep delays, and for ambiguity. I would only skip it if the frequency is very congested.
If you want to acknowledge, “Roger” with your call sign works, or even just the call sign, but you must say something; otherwise, the controller will need to repeat the transmission. The controller’s bible, order 7110.65, says in chapter 2-4-3 that “Until a pilot acknowledges a controller’s clearance or instruction, a controller cannot know if a pilot will comply with the clearance or remain as previously cleared.”
I flew with a primary student, who was very good on the radio. That was unsurprising, I trained him. 😊 One day, ground tells him to follow another aircraft to the runway, and he double clicks in reply. When I asked him why he did that, he said he had heard other people doing it on the radio. Here we go again, don’t be that guy.
If you don’t know what to say or are not ready, reply with “Standby”. If you didn’t understand it, “Say Again”. If you’ll follow the instruction, you “Wilco”. Just don’t double-click.
Call Signs
AIM section 4-2-4 discusses aircraft call signs and says:
Call signs should never be abbreviated on an initial contact. This doesn’t mean the first radio call of the day; it means the first call to a new controller.
ATC may initiate abbreviated call signs by using the prefix and the last three digits/letters of the aircraft identification after communications are established. The pilot may use the abbreviated call sign in subsequent contacts with the ATC. It is, however, common to use an abbreviated call sign in read-backs and subsequent calls even if not initiated by ATC.
Pilots should state the aircraft type, model, or manufacturer’s name, followed by the digits/letters of the registration number. It is preferable to say “Cirrus 123AB” instead of “November 123AB”. I do, however, say Cirrus November 123AB when flying outside the United States.
Two ears, one mouth
And this is why we use our ears twice as much as our mouths. At least twice. When you switch to a new frequency, don’t start talking immediately; wait a few seconds so that you don’t jump in the middle of the conversation. Most radio exchanges are spread over multiple transmissions; you will step over somebody if you do.
With controller shortages, it is increasingly common for a controller to operate multiple frequencies. In that case, you will sometimes hear him talking, but not other pilots’ replies. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out when the reply is needed and how long it should take. Wait that time before jumping in.
A variation of that situation occurs at airports where the same controller works both ground and tower frequencies. Here you can monitor the other frequency to know when to talk. Even if you don’t monitor it, dial it in the second radio and watch the Rx annunciation to know if anybody is talking.
Writing things down
I do write down IFR clearances when they are given, but not much else. That sometimes backfires when I hear, “Cirrus 3AB, turn right heading 320, climb and maintain 10,000, contact approach on 125.1.” This is when being able to read back only numbers is very helpful. “Right 320, 10 thousand, 125.1, Cirrus 3AB”. I am already twisting the heading bug and the altitude bugs as I say this, but it does occasionally happen that the frequency is lost. Reading back the numbers commits them to short-term memory, which is why I put my call sign at the end, because that’s the one item I don’t need to remember.
This kind of instruction, however, is an exception; most controllers avoid cramming too many things into one transmission, as they know they risk a “say again”. I sometimes fly with pilots who dutifully write down each instruction. “Cirrus 3AB, contact approach on 125.1”. At this point, the pilot starts looking for a pen, picks it up, finds a spot to write it down, enters the new frequency into the com radio, and finally reads it back. You can easily see how everybody on the frequency quickly becomes frustrated. I read back the frequency, which commits it to my short-term memory; enter it into the radio; flip to the new frequency; write it down; and then call. Writing it down is an old habit that is probably unnecessary these days, but it also serves the purpose of waiting a few seconds before calling on the new frequency.
Anticipate
“Cirrus 3AB, you are 6 miles from IPDEW, turn left heading 320, maintain 2000 until established, cleared for ILS 29R Stockton”. That takes about 10 seconds. Now comes the pilot. “Cirrus 3AB, we are, 5, ahhhh 6 miles from IPDEW, uhhh, turn left 320, maintain, ahhh maintain 3000 until established, ahhhhh, we are cleared for …… (looking at the approach chart)…. ILS 29R Stockton.” That takes 20 seconds, followed by another 5 seconds for the controller to correct the altitude, and 10 seconds for the pilot to acknowledge it. In the 45 seconds, the airplane flew about 1.5 nm, and the pilot crossed the localizer before he started to turn.
This is an example of a PTAC: position, turn, altitude, clearance, a standard phraseology when vectored to final. Learn it and use it as a scaffolding, you only need to hang numbers of it to read it back with no effort: “left 320, 2000 until established, cleared ILS 29R, 3AB”. You should start turning while, or even before, you read it back. Moreover, you should know when you will get it, it will be about 1.5 nm from the localizer, and what heading you will get, which will be about 20°-30° from the localizer course to ensure smooth intercept.
This is just an example of anticipation. With experience, you will know what the controller will say before he says it. I sometimes play this game while instructing, when and what will he say next?
Don’t mind what I say, mind what I mean
I want to finish with a positive subject, an aspect of radio phraseology that I find endearing and polite. You hold short of the runway waiting for a VFR takeoff clearance, and there is nobody in the pattern. You are still holding short. Holding short…..Instead of an annoyed bark, “Tower, how long are we going to wait here?”, you say, “N123AB, holding short runway 12”.
Cruising along on an IFR flight, you check in with the new controller, who says, “N123AB, Delta altimeter setting 29.82, maintain 10,000”. You read it back, there is moderate chatter on the frequency, and ten minutes later, the same controller comes back “N123AB, Delta altimeter 29.82”. He could say “N123AB, verify altitude”, but the altimeter setting is a gentle reminder.
Tally-ho on a fish finder, I am with you, and any traffic on the frequency, please advise.
